“Tell me, Glovbich, why did the prince send you, and not a foreign regiment, to the execution?” “Because he wanted to disgrace you before the Poles. The foreign soldiers do not know you.” “And was nothing to happen to me?” “I had the order to cut your bonds; but if you tried to defend Soroka we were to bring you for punishment to the prince.” “Then he was willing to sacrifice Sakovich,” muttered Kmita. Meanwhile Prince Boguslav in Yanov, wearied with the fever and the toil of the day, had gone to sleep. He was roused from slumber by an uproar in front of his quarters and a knocking at the door. “Your highness, your highness!” cried a number of voices. “He is asleep, do not rouse him!” answered the pages. But the prince sat up in bed and cried,— “A light!” They brought in a light, and at the same time the officer on duty entered. “Your highness,” said he, “Sapyeha’s envoy has brought Glovbich’s squadron to mutiny and taken it to the hetman.” Silence followed. “Sound the kettle-drums and other drums!” said Boguslav at last; “let the troops form in rank!” The officer went out; the prince remained alone. “That is a terrible man!” said he to himself; and he felt that a new paroxysm of fever was seizing him. CHAPTER XXVI. It is easy to imagine Sapyeha’s amazement when Kmita not only returned safely himself, but brought with him a number of tens of horsemen and his old servant. Kmita had to tell the hetman and Oskyerko twice what had happened, and how it had happened; they listened with curiosity, clapping their hands frequently and seizing their heads. “Learn from this,” said the hetman, “that whoso carries vengeance too far, from him it often slips away like a bird through the fingers. Prince Boguslav wanted to have Poles as witnesses of your shame and suffering so as to disgrace you the more, and he carried the matter too far. But do not boast of this, for it was the ordinance of God which gave you victory, though, in my way, I will tell you one thing,—he is a devil; but you too are a devil! The prince did ill to insult you.” “I will not leave him behind in vengeance, and God grant that I shall not overdo it.” “Leave vengeance altogether, as Christ did; though with one word he might have destroyed the Jews.” Kmita said nothing, and there was no time for discussion; there was not even time for rest. He was mortally wearied, and still he had determined to go that night to his Tartars, who were posted in the forests and on the roads in the rear of Boguslav’s army. But people of that period slept soundly on horseback. Pan Andrei simply gave command then to saddle a fresh horse, promising himself to slumber sweetly on the road. When he was mounting Soroka came to him and stood straight as in service. “Your grace!” said he. “What have you to say, old man?” “I have come to ask when I am to start?” “For what place?” “For Taurogi.” Kmita laughed: “You will not go to Taurogi, you will go with me.”