“He said nothing,” answered Zagloba, “and why he did not will appear at the end of my story; but now _incipiam_ (I will begin).” Here he told all as it had happened,—how he had brought the marshal to such a favorable decision. Charnyetski looked at him with growing astonishment, Polyanovski seized his own head, Pan Michael’s mustaches were quivering. “I have not known you hitherto, as God is dear to me!” cried Charnyetski, at last. “I cannot believe my own ears.” “They have long since called me Ulysses,” said Zagloba, modestly. “Where is my letter?” “Here it is.” “I must forgive you for not delivering it. He is a finished rogue! A vice-chancellor might learn from him how to make treaties. As God lives, if I were king, I would send you to Tsargrad.” “If he were there, a hundred thousand Turks would be here now!” cried Pan Michael. To which Zagloba said: “Not one, but two hundred thousand, as true as I live.” “And did the marshal hesitate at nothing?” asked Charnyetski. “He? He swallowed all that I put to his lips, just as a fat gander gulps pellets; his eyes were covered with mist. I thought that from delight he would burst, as a Swedish bomb bursts. With flattery that man might be taken to hell.” “If it can only be ground out on the Swedes, if it can only be ground out, and I have hope that it will be,” said Charnyetski, delighted. “You are a man adroit as a fox; but do not make too much sport of the marshal, for another would not have done what he has to-day. Much depends on him. We shall march to Sandomir itself over the estates of the Lyubomirskis, and the marshal can raise with one word the whole region, command peasants to injure crossings, burn bridges, hide provisions in the forests. You have rendered a service which I shall not forget till death; but I must thank the marshal, for as I believe he has not done this from mere vanity.” Then he clapped his hands and cried: “A horse for me at once! Let us forge the iron while it is hot!” Then he turned to the colonels: “Come, all of you gentlemen, with me, so that the suite may be the most imposing.” “And must I go too?” asked Zagloba. “You have built the bridge between me and the marshal, it is proper that you be the first to pass over. Besides, I think that they will see you gladly. Come, come, lord brother, or I shall say that you wished to leave a half-finished work.” “Hard to refuse. I must draw my belt tighter, however, lest I shake into nothing. Not much strength is left me, unless I fortify it with something.” “But with what?” “Much has been told me of the castellan’s mead which I have not tasted as yet, and I should like to know if it is better than the marshal’s.” “We will drink a stirrup cup now, but after our return we shall not limit the cups in advance. You will find a couple of decanters of it in your own quarters.” Then the castellan commanded to bring goblets; they drank enough for brightness and good humor, mounted and rode away.