“Each one prevents every other.” “The girl will be left in the lurch,” said Kmita, “though in truth there must be white seeds in that pear yet.” Shurski opened his eyes, and bending to Kmita’s ear said very mysteriously,— “They say that she is twenty-five, as I love God. She was with Princess Griselda before the incursion of the rabble?” “Wonder of wonders, I should not give her more than sixteen or eighteen at the most.” This time the devil (the girl) guessed apparently that they were talking of her, for she covered her gleaming eyes with the lids, and only shot sidelong glances at Kmita, inquiring continually: “Who art thou, so handsome? Whence dost thou come?” And he began involuntarily to twirl his mustache. After dinner Zamoyski, who from respect to the courtly manners of Kmita treated him as an unusual guest, took him by the arm. “Pan Babinich,” said he, “you have told me that you are from Lithuania?” “That is true, Pan Zamoyski.” “Tell me, did you know the Podbipientas?” “As to knowing I know them not, for they are no longer in the world, at least those who had the arms Tear-Cowl. The last one fell at Zbaraj. He was the greatest knight that Lithuania had. Who of us does not know of Podbipienta?” “I have heard also of him; but I ask for this reason: There is in attendance on my sister a lady of honorable family. She was the betrothed of this Podbipienta who was killed at Zbaraj. She is an orphan, without father or mother; and though my sister loves her greatly, still, being the natural guardian of my sister, I have in this way the maiden in guardianship.” “A pleasant guardianship!” put in Kmita. Zamoyski smiled, winked, and smacked his tongue. “Sweetcakes! isn’t she?” But suddenly he saw that he was betraying himself, and assumed a serious air. “Oh, you traitor!” said he, half jestingly, half seriously, “you want to hang me on a hook, and I almost let it out!” “What?” asked Kmita, looking him quickly in the eyes. Here Zamoyski saw clearly that in quickness of wit he was not the equal of his guest, and turned the conversation at once. “That Podbipienta,” said he, “bequeathed her some estates there in your region. I don’t remember the names of them, for they are strange,—Baltupie, Syrutsiani, Myshykishki,—in a word, all that he had. Would I could remember them! Five or six estates.” “They are adjoining estates, not separate. Podbipienta was a very wealthy man, and if that lady should come to his fortune she might have her own ladies-in-waiting, and seek for a husband among senators.” “Do you tell me that? Do you know those places?” “I know only Lyubovich and Sheputy, for they are near my land. The forest boundary alone is ten miles long, and the fields and meadows are as much more.” “Where are they?” “In Vityebsk.” “Oh, far away! the affair is not worth the trouble, and the country is under the enemy.”