“Quickly, for her head is burning!” muttered Zagloba.
But Basia, shaking her yellow forelock, said, “Not my head, but the hearts of those gentlemen are burning from sorrow.”
“No one will oppose your honest intention,” said Pan Michael; “but first we must hear Pani Boski’s story in detail.”
“Zosia, tell everything as it was, for I cannot, from tears,” said the matron.
Zosia dropped her eyes toward the floor, covering them entirely with the lids; then she became as red as a cherry, not knowing how to begin, and was greatly abashed at having to speak in such a numerous assembly.
But Basia came to her aid. “Zosia, and when did they take Pan Boski captive?”
“Five years ago, in 1667,” said Zosia, with a thin voice, without raising the long lashes from her eyes. And she began in one breath to tell the story: “There were no raids to be heard of at that time, and papa’s squadron was near Panyovtsi. Papa, with Pan Bulayovski, was looking after men who were herding cattle in the meadows, and the Tartars came then on the Wallachian road, and took papa, with Pan Bulayovski; but Pan Bulayovski returned two years ago, and papa has not returned.”
Here two tears began to flow down Zosia’s cheeks, so that Zagloba was moved at sight of them, and said, “Poor girl! Do not fear, child; papa will return, and will dance yet at your wedding.”
“But did the hetman write to Pan Zlotnitski through Pyotrovich?” inquired Volodyovski.
“The hetman wrote about papa to the sword-bearer of Poznan,” recited Zosia; “and the sword-bearer and Pan Pyotrovich found papa with Aga Murza Bey.”