“When we drive out the enemy we shall come to the property. But the Podbipientas have property in other places,—in Jmud very considerable, I know, for I have a piece of land there myself.” “I see that your substance is not a bag of chopped straw.” “It brings in nothing now. But I need nothing from others.” “Advise me how to put that maiden on her feet.” Kmita laughed. “I prefer to talk over this matter rather than others. It would be better for her to go to Pan Sapyeha. If he would take the affair in hand, he could do a great deal as voevoda of Vityebsk and the most noted man in Lithuania. He could send notices to the tribunals that the will was made to Panna Borzobogati, so that Podbipienta’s more distant relatives should not seize the property.” “That is true; but now there are no tribunals, and Sapyeha has something else in his head.” “The lady might be placed in his hands and under his guardianship. Having her before his eyes, he would give aid more speedily.” Kmita looked with astonishment at Zamoyski. “What object has he in wishing to remove her from this place?” thought he. Zamoyski continued: “It would be difficult for her to live in camp, in the tent of the voevoda of Vityebsk; but she might stay with his daughters.” “I do not understand this,” thought Kmita; “would he consent to be only her guardian?” “But here is the difficulty: how can I send her to those parts in the present time of disturbance? Several hundred men would be needed, and I cannot strip Zamost. If I could only find some one to conduct her. Now, you might take her; you are going to Sapyeha. I would give you letters, and you would give me your word of honor to take her in safety.” “I conduct her to Sapyeha?” asked Kmita, in amazement. “Is the office unpleasant? Even if it should come to love on the road—” “Ah,” said Kmita, “another one is managing my affections; and though the tenant pays nothing, still I do not think of making a change.” “So much the better; with all the greater satisfaction can I confide her to you.” A moment of silence followed. “Well, will you undertake it?” asked the starosta, “I am marching with Tartars.” “People tell me that the Tartars fear you worse than fire. Well, what? Will you undertake it?” “H’m! why not, if thereby I can oblige your grace? But—” “Ah, you think that the princess must give permission; she will, as God is dear to me! For she,—fancy to yourself,—she suspects me.” Here the starosta whispered in Kmita’s ear; at last he said aloud,— “She was very angry with me for that, and I put my ears aside; for to war with women,—behold you! I would rather have the Swedes outside Zamost. But she will have the best proof that I am planning no evil, when I wish to send the girl away. She will be terribly amazed, it is true; but at the first opportunity I’ll talk with her touching this matter.” When he had said this, Zamoyski turned and went away. Kmita looked at him, and muttered,—