Olenka, it may be, did not see penitence in the face of the cavalier, but she saw pain and suffering; she saw that face pale as after sickness; therefore deep pity seized her, tears came perforce to her eyes, and she bent still more over the table to avoid betraying emotion. Meanwhile the banquet was becoming animated. At first all were evidently under a disagreeable impression, but with the cups came fancy. The bustle increased. At last the prince rose,-- "Gracious gentlemen, I ask leave to speak." "The prince wishes to speak! The prince wishes to speak!" was called from every side. "I raise the first toast to the Most Serene King of Sweden, who gives us aid against our enemies, and ruling meanwhile this country, will not leave it till he brings peace. Arise, gentlemen, for that health is drunk standing." The guests rose, except ladies, and filled their glasses, but without shouts, without enthusiasm. Pan Shchanyetski of Dalnovo muttered something to his neighbors, and they bit their mustaches to avoid laughter. It was evident that he was jeering at the King of Sweden. It was only when the prince raised the other toast to his "beloved guests" kind to Kyedani, who had come even from distant places to testify their confidence in the intentions of the host, that they answered him with a loud shout,-- "We thank you from our hearts!" "The health of the prince!" "Our Hector of Lithuania!" "May he live! Long life to the prince hetman, our voevoda." Now Pan Yujits, a little drunk already, cried with all the strength of his lungs, "Long life to Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!" Radzivill blushed like a young lady at her betrothal, but remarking that those assembled were stubbornly silent and looking at him with astonishment, he said,-- "That is in your power; but your wishes are premature, Pan Yujits, premature." "Long live Yanush I., Grand Prince of Lithuania!" repeated Pan Yujits, with the stubbornness of a drunken man. Pan Shchanyetski rose in his turn and raised his glass. "True," said he, coolly, "Grand Prince of Lithuania, King of Poland, and Emperor of Germany!" Again an interval of silence. Suddenly the company burst out into laughter. All were staring, their mustaches were dancing on their reddened faces, and laughter shook their bodies, echoed from the arches of the hall, and lasted long; and as suddenly as it rose so suddenly did it die on the lips of all at sight of the hetman's face, which was changing like a rainbow. Radzivill restrained the terrible anger which had seized his breast and said, "Low jests, Pan Shchanyetski."