"You will take Kmita's squadron," said the prince to him, "and command over all the cavalry. Kmita is going on a journey." Over the cold face of Ganhoff there passed as it were a ray of joy. The mission had missed him, but a higher military office had come. He bowed in silence, and said,-- "I will pay for the favor of your highness with faithful service." Then he stood erect and waited. "And what will you say further?" asked the prince. "Your highness, a noble from Vilkomir came this morning with news that Pan Sapyeha is marching with troops against your highness." Radzivill quivered, but in the twinkle of an eye he mastered his expression. "You may go," said he to Ganhoff. Then he fell into deep thought. CHAPTER XXV. Kmita was very busily occupied in preparations for the road, and in choosing the men of his escort; for he determined not to go without a certain-sized party, first for his own safety, and second for the dignity of his person as an envoy. He was in a hurry, since he wished to start during the evening of that day, or if the rain did not cease, early next morning. He found men at last,--six trusty fellows who had long served under him in those better days when before his journey to Lyubich he had stormed around Hovanski,--old fighters of Orsha, ready to follow him even to the end of the earth. They were themselves nobles and attendant boyars, the last remnant of that once powerful band cut down by the Butryms. At the head of them was the sergeant Soroka, a trusty servant of the Kmitas,--an old soldier and very reliable, though numerous sentences were hanging over him for still more numerous deeds of violence. After dinner the prince gave Pan Andrei the letters and a pass to the Swedish commanders whom the young envoy might meet in the more considerable places; he took farewell of him and sent him away with much feeling, really like a father, recommending wariness and deliberation. Meanwhile the sky began to grow clear; toward evening the weak sun of autumn shone over Kyedani and went down behind red clouds, stretched out in long lines on the west. There was nothing to hinder the journey. Kmita was just drinking a stirrup cup with Ganhoff, Kharlamp, and some other officers when about dusk Soroka came in and asked,-- "Are you going, Commander?" "In an hour," answered Kmita. "The horses and men are ready now in the yard." The sergeant went out, and the officers began to strike glasses still more; but Kmita rather pretended to drink than to drink in reality. The wine had no taste for him, did not go to his head, did not cheer his spirit, while the others were already merry. "Worthy Colonel," said Ganhoff, "commend me to the favor of Prince Boguslav. That is a great cavalier; such another there is not in the Commonwealth. With him you will be as in France. A different speech, other customs, every politeness may be learned there more easily than even in the palace of the king."