"Have not I told you, Uncle," asked Panna Aleksandra, "that we ought to flee as far as possible, for they would not leave us here undisturbed? Now my words have come true." "What's to be done, what's to be done? There is no remedy against force," cried Billevich. "True," answered the lady: "but we ought not to go to that infamous house of our own will. Let murderers take us, bind us, and bear us. Not we alone shall suffer persecution, not us alone will the vengeance of traitors reach; but let them know that we prefer death to infamy." Here she turned with an expression of supreme contempt to Kmita: "Bind us, sir officer, or sir executioner, and take us with horses, for in another way we will not go." The blood rushed to Kmita's face; it seemed for a time that he would burst forth in terrible anger, but he restrained himself. "Ah, gracious lady," said he, with a voice stifled from excitement, "I have not favor in your eyes, since you wish to make me a murderer, a traitor, and a man of violence. May God judge who is right,--whether I serving the hetman, or you insulting me as a dog. God gave you beauty, but a heart venomous and implacable. You are glad to suffer yourself, that you may inflict still greater pain on another. You exceed the measure,--as I live, you exceed it,--and nothing will come of that." "The maiden speaks well," cried Billevich, to whom daring came suddenly; "we will not go of our own will. Take us with dragoons." But Kmita paid no attention whatever to him, so much was he excited, and so deeply touched. "You are in love with the sufferings of people," continued he to Olenka, "and you proclaim me a traitor without judgment, without considering a reason, without permitting me to say a word in my own defence. Let it be so. But you will go to Kyedani,--of your own will or against your will; it is all one. There my intentions will become evident; there you will know whether you have justly accused me of wrong, there conscience will tell you who of us was whose executioner. I want no other vengeance. God be with you, but I want that vengeance. And I want nothing more of you, for you have bent the bow to the breaking. There is a serpent under your beauty as under a flower." "We will not go!" repeated Billevich, still more resolutely. "As true as life we will not!" shouted Hudzynski and Dovgird. Kmita turned to them; but he was very pale now, for rage was throttling him, and his teeth chattered as in a fever. "Ei! Try now to resist! My horses are to be heard,--my dragoons are coming. Will some one say again that he will not go?" In fact the tramp of numerous horses was heard. All saw that there was no help, and Kmita said,-- "Young lady, within the time that a man could repeat the Lord's Prayer twice you must be in the carriage, or your uncle will have a bullet in his head."