The vice-chancellor half closed his eyes, and sat some time in silence; all at once he raised his head, looked at Zagloba, and began to speak slowly: “I thank God for having inspired me with the idea of knowing your grace. That is it! the son of the great Yeremi is alive,—a prince young and full of hope, to whom the Commonwealth has a debt to pay. Of his gigantic fortune nothing remains but glory,—that is his only inheritance. Therefore in the present times of corruption, when every man turns his eyes only to where gold is attracting, who will mention his name, who will have the courage to make him a candidate? You? True! But will there be many like you? It is not wonderful that he whose life has been passed in heroic struggles on all fields will not fear to give homage to merit with his vote on the field of election; but will others follow his example?” Here the vice-chancellor fell to thinking, then raised his eyes and spoke on: “God is mightier than all. Who knows His decisions, who knows? When I think how all the knighthood believe and trust you, I see indeed with wonderment that a certain hope enters my heart. Tell me sincerely, has the impossible ever existed for you?”
“Never!” answered Zagloba, with conviction.
“Still, it is not proper to advance that candidacy too decidedly at first. Let the name strike people’s ears, but let it not seem too formidable to opponents; let them rather laugh at it, and sneer, so that they may not raise too serious impediments. Perhaps, too, God will grant it to succeed quickly, when the intrigues of parties bring them to mutual destruction. Smooth the road for it gradually, your grace, and grow not weary in labor; for this is your candidate, worthy of your reason and experience. God bless you in these plans!”
“Am I to suppose,” inquired Zagloba, “that your dignity has been thinking also of Prince Michael?”
The vice-chancellor took from his sleeve a small book on which the title “Censura Candidatorum” stood in large black letters, and said, “Read, your grace; let this letter answer for me.”
Then the vice-chancellor began preparations for going; but Zagloba detained him and said, “Permit me, your dignity, to say something more. First of all, I thank God that the lesser seal is in hands which can bend men like wax.”
“How is that?” asked the vice-chancellor, astonished.
“Secondly, I will tell your dignity in advance that the candidacy of Prince Michael is greatly to my heart, for I knew his father, and loved him and fought under him with my friends; they too will be delighted in soul at the thought that they can show the son that love which they had for the father. Therefore I seize at this candidacy with both hands, and this day I will speak with Pan Krytski,—a man of great family and my acquaintance, who is in high consideration among the nobles, for it is difficult not to love him. We will both do what is in our power; and God grant that we shall effect something!”
“May the angels attend you!” said the prelate; “if you do that, we have nothing more to say.”
“With the permission of your dignity I have to speak of one thing more; namely, that your dignity should not think to yourself thuswise: ‘I have put my own wishes into his mouth; I have talked into him this idea that he has found out of his own wit the candidacy of Prince Michael,—speaking briefly, I have twisted the fool in my hand as if he were wax.’ Your dignity, I will advance the cause of Prince Michael, because it is to my heart,—that is what the case is; because, as I see, it is to the heart also of your dignity,—that is what the case is! I will advance it for the sake of his mother, for the sake of my friends; I will advance it because of the confidence which I have in the head” (here Zagloba inclined) “from which that Minerva sprang forth, but not because I let myself be persuaded, like a little boy, that the invention is mine; and in fine, not because I am a fool, but for the reason that when a wise man tells me a wise thing, old Zagloba says, ‘Agreed!’”