“I do not wonder at your venom. Have a care, though, that your anger does not choke your adroitness, for you have to deal with no common man. It is well that the king sent you hither. You will attack Boguslav for me, as you once did Hovanski.” “I will attack him better!” said Kmita, with the same gloom. With this the conversation ended. Kmita went away to sleep in his quarters, for he was wearied from the road. Meanwhile the news spread through the army that the king had sent the baton to their beloved chief. Joy burst out like a flame among thousands of men. The officers of various squadrons hurried to the quarters of the hetman. The sleeping town sprang up from its slumber. Bonfires were kindled. Standard-bearers came with their standards. Trumpets sounded and kettle-drums thundered; discharges from muskets and cannon roared. Pan Sapyeha ordered a lordly feast, and they applauded the whole night through, drinking to the health of the king, the hetman, and to the coming victory over Boguslav. Pan Andrei, as was agreed, was not present at the feast. The hetman at the table began a conversation about Boguslav, and not telling who that officer was who had come with the Tartars and brought the baton, he spoke in general of the perversity of Boguslav. “Both Radzivills,” said he, “were fond of intrigues, but Prince Boguslav goes beyond his dead cousin. You remember, gentlemen, Kmita, or at least you have heard of him. Now imagine to yourselves, what Boguslav reported—that Kmita offered to raise his hand on the king our lord—was not true.” “Still Kmita helped Yanush to cut down good cavaliers.” “It is true that he helped Yanush; but at last he saw what he was doing, and then not only did he leave the service, but as you know, being a man of daring, he attacked Boguslav. It was close work there for the young prince, and he barely escaped with his life from Kmita’s hands.” “Kmita was a great soldier!” answered many voices. “The prince through revenge invented against him a calumny at which the soul shudders.” “The devil could not have invented a keener!” “Do you know that I have in my hands proofs in black and white that that was revenge for the change in Kmita?” “To put infamy in such a way on any one’s name! Only Boguslav could do that! To sink such a soldier!” “I have heard this,” continued the hetman: “Kmita, seeing that nothing remained for him to do in this region, hurried off to Chenstohova, rendered there famous services, and then defended the king with his own breast.” Hearing this, the same soldiers who would have cut Kmita to pieces with their sabres began to speak of him more and more kindly. “Kmita will not forgive the calumny, he is not such a man; he will fall on Boguslav.” “Boguslav has insulted all soldiers, by casting such infamy on one of them.” “Kmita was cruel and violent, but he was not a parricide.” “He will have vengeance!” “We will be first to take vengeance for him!”