“Oh, I believe that!” answered the little knight. Meanwhile Sadovski turned to Kmita, and asked how he had not only freed himself from Kuklinovski, but put an end to him. Kmita told him in detail. Sadovski, while listening, seized his own head with amazement; at last he pressed Kmita’s hand again, and said,— “Believe me, I am sincerely glad; for though I serve the Swedes, every true soldier’s heart rejoices when a real cavalier puts down a ruffian. I must acknowledge to you that when a daring man is found among you, one must look with a lantern through the universe to find his equal.” “You are a courteous officer,” said Zagloba. “And a famous soldier, we know that,” added Volodyovski. “I learned courtesy and the soldier’s art from you,” answered Sadovski, touching his cap. Thus they conversed, vying with one another in courtesy, till they reached Grojytsi, where the king’s quarters were. The whole village was occupied by soldiers of various arms. Our envoys looked with curiosity at the groups scattered among the fences. Some, wishing to sleep away their hunger, were dozing around cottages, for the day was very clear and warm; some were playing dice on drums, drinking beer; some were hanging their clothes on the fences; others were sitting in front of the cottages singing Scandinavian songs, rubbing with brick-dust their breastplates and helmets, from which bright gleams went forth. In places they were cleaning horses, or leading them out; in a word, camp life was moving and seething under the bright sky. There were men, it is true, who bore signs of terrible toil and hunger, but the sun covered their leanness with gold; besides, days of rest were beginning for those incomparable warriors, therefore they took courage at once, and assumed a military bearing. Volodyovski admired them in spirit, especially the infantry regiments, famous through the whole world for endurance and bravery. Sadovski gave explanations as they passed, saying,— “This is the Smaland regiment of the royal guard. This is the infantry of Delekarlia, the very best.” “In God’s name, what little monsters are these?” cried Zagloba on a sudden, pointing to a group of small men with olive complexions and black hair hanging on both sides of their heads. “Those are Laplanders, who belong to the remotest Hyperboreans.” “Are they good in battle? It seems to me that I might take three in each hand and strike with their heads till I was tired.” “You could surely do so. They are useless in battle. The Swedes bring them for camp servants, and partly as a curiosity. But they are the most skilful of wizards; each of them has at least one devil in his service, and some have five.” “How do they get such friendship with evil spirits?” asked Kmita, making the sign of the cross. “Because they wander in night, which with them lasts half a year or more; and you know that it is easier to hold converse with the Devil at night.” “But have they souls?”