Here he first noticed that the impression which these tidings produced on those present was entirely different from that which he felt himself. For all sat in silence, looking forward with uncertain glance. Some frowned; others covered their faces with their hands. Even courtiers of the hetman, even men of weak spirit, did not dare to imitate the joy of the prince at the tidings that Warsaw was taken, that Cracow must fall, and that the provinces, one after the other, would leave their legal king and yield to the enemy. Besides, there was something monstrous in the satisfaction with which the supreme leader of half the armies of the Commonwealth, and one of its most exalted senators, announced its defeats. The prince saw that it was necessary to soften the impression. "Gentlemen," said he, "I should be the first to weep with you, if harm were coming to the Commonwealth; but here the Commonwealth suffers no harm, it merely changes kings. Instead of the ill-fated Yan Kazimir we shall have a great and fortunate warrior. I see all wars now finished, and enemies vanquished." "Your highness is right," answered Shchanyetski. "Cup for cup, the same thing that Radzeyovski and Opalinski held forth at Uistsie. Let us rejoice, gracious gentlemen! Death to Yan Kazimir!" When he had said this, Shchanyetski pushed back his chair with a rattle, and walked out of the hall. "The best of wines that are in the cellar!" cried the prince. The marshal hastened to carry out the order. In the hall it was as noisy as in a hive. When the first impression had passed, the nobles began to talk of the news and discuss. They asked Pan Suhanyets for details from Podlyasye, and adjoining Mazovia, which the Swedes had already occupied. After a while pitchy kegs were rolled into the hall and opened. Spirits began to grow brighter and improve by degrees. More and more frequently voices were heard to repeat: "All is over! perhaps it is for the best!" "We must bend to fortune!" "The prince will not let us be wronged." "It is better for us than for others. Long life to Yanush Radzivill, our voevoda, hetman, and prince!" "Grand Prince of Lithuania!" cried again Pan Yujits. But at this time neither silence nor laughter answered him; but a number of tens of hoarse throats roared at once,-- "That is our wish,--from heart and soul our wish! Long life to him! May he rule!" The magnate rose with a face as red as purple. "I thank you, brothers," said he, seriously. In the hall it had become as suffocating and hot, from lights and the breath of people, as in a bath. Panna Aleksandra bent past Kmita to her uncle. "I am weak," said she; "let us leave here." In truth her face was pale, and on her forehead glittered drops of perspiration; but the sword-bearer of Rossyeni cast an unquiet glance at the hetman, fearing lest it be taken ill of him to leave the table. In the field he was a gallant soldier, but he feared Radzivill with his whole soul.