The soldiers noticed, too, that from under his kaftan gleamed the edge of chain mail, as if he were going to battle. He had his sabre also girt high, so as to seize the hilt more easily. His face was calm enough, but stern and threatening. Casting a glance at the soldiers to see if they were ready and armed properly, he mounted his horse, and throwing a ducat at the innkeeper, rode out of the place. Soroka rode at his side; three others behind, leading a horse. Soon they found themselves on the square filled by Boguslav's troops. There was movement among them already; evidently the command had come to prepare for the road. The horsemen were tightening the girths of the saddle and bridling the horses; the infantry were taking their muskets, stacked before the houses; others were attaching horses to wagons. Kmita started as it were from meditation. "Hear me, old man," said he to Soroka; "from the starosta's house does the road go on,--it will not be necessary to come back through the square?" "But where are we going, Colonel?" "To Dembova." "Then we must go from the square past the house. The square will be behind us." "It is well," said Kmita. "Oh, if only those men were alive now! Few are fitted for work like this,--few!" Meanwhile they passed the square, and began to turn toward the starosta's house, which lay about one furlong and a half farther on, near the roadside. "Stop!" cried Kmita, suddenly. The soldiers halted, and he turned to them. "Are you ready for death?" asked he, abruptly. "Ready!" answered in chorus these dare-devils of Orsha. "We crawled up to Hovanski's throat, and he did not devour us,--do you remember?" "We remember!" "There is need to dare great things to-day. If success comes, our gracious king will make lords of you,--I guarantee that! If failure, you will go to the stake!" "Why not success?" asked Soroka, whose eyes began to gleam like those of an old wolf. "There will be success!" said three others,--Biloüs, Zavratynski, and Lubyenyets. "We must carry off the prince marshal!" said Kmita. Then he was silent, wishing to see the impression which the mad thought would make on the soldiers. But they were silent too, and looked on him as on a rainbow; only, their mustaches quivered, and their faces became terrible and murderous. "The stake is near, the reward far away," added Kmita. "There are few of us," muttered Zavratynski. "It is worse than against Hovanski," said Lubyenyets. "The troops are all in the market-square, and at the house are only the sentries and about twenty attendants," said Kmita, "who are off their guard, and have not even swords at their sides." "You risk your head; why should we not risk ours?" said Soroka.