“Where is Michael’s letter to me?” inquired Zagloba, interrupting the torrent of news given out at one breath by the worthy lady.
“Here it is,” said she, giving him a letter. “Because there was wind, and the people were at the fair—”
“How were the letters brought here?” asked Zagloba, again.
“They were taken to Ketling’s house, and a servant brought them here. Because, as I say, there was wind—”
“Do you wish to listen, my benefactress?”
“Of course, I beg earnestly.”
Zagloba broke the seal and began to read, first in an undertone, for himself, then aloud for all,—
“I send this first letter to you; but God grant that there will not be another, for posts are uncertain in this region, and I shall soon present myself personally among you. It is pleasant here in the field, but still my heart draws me tremendously toward you, and there is no end to thoughts and memories, wherefore solitude is dearer to me in this place than company. The promised work has passed, for the hordes sit quietly, only smaller bands are rioting in the fields; these also we fell upon twice with such fortune that not a witness of their defeat got away.”
“Oh, they warmed them!” cried Basia, with delight. “There is nothing higher than the calling of a soldier!”
“Doroshenko’s rabble” (continued Zagloba) “would like to have an uproar with us, but they cannot in any way without the horde. The prisoners confess that a larger chambul will not move from any quarter, which I believe, for if there was to be anything like this it would have taken place already, since the grass has been green for a week past, and there is something with which to feed horses. In ravines bits of snow are still hiding here and there; but the open steppes are green, and a warm wind is blowing, from which the horses begin to shed their hair, and this is the surest sign of spring. I have sent already for leave, which may come any day, and then I shall start at once. Pan Adam succeeds me in keeping guard, at which there is so little labor that Makovetski and I have been fox-hunting whole days,—for simple amusement, as the fur is useless when spring is near. There are many bustards, and my servant shot a pelican. I embrace you with my whole heart; I kiss the hands of my sister, and those of Panna Krysia, to whose good-will I commit myself most earnestly, imploring God specially to let me find her unchanged, and to receive the same consolation. Give an obeisance from me to Panna Basia. Pan Adam has vented the anger roused by his rejection at Mokotov on the backs of ruffians, but there is still some in his mind, it is evident. He is not wholly relieved. I commit you to God and His most holy love.