After these words they wondered still more at him, and to no one did he seem less important because he was not a deputy, for all knew that among the audience were men who had more power than the deputies themselves. Besides, every senator, even the most eminent, had in mind that, a couple of months later, the election would follow, and then every word of a man of such fame among the knighthood would have value beyond estimation.
They carried, therefore, Zagloba in their arms, and stood before him with bared heads, even the greatest lords. Pan Podlyaski drank three days with him; the Patses, whom he met in Kalushyn, bore him on their hands.
More than one man gave command to thrust into the old hero’s hamper considerable gifts, from vodka and wine to richly ornamented caskets, sabres, and pistols.
Zagloba’s servants too had good profit from this; and he, despite resolutions and promises, travelled so slowly that only on the third week did he reach Minsk.
But he did not halt for refreshments at Minsk. Driving to the square, he saw a retinue so conspicuous and splendid that he had not met such on the road hitherto: attendants in brilliant colors; half a regiment of infantry alone, for to the Diet of Convocation men did not go armed on horseback, but these troops were in such order that the King of Sweden had not a better guard; the place was filled with gilded carriages carrying tapestry and carpets to use in public houses on the way; wagons with provision chests and supplies of food; with them were servants, nearly all foreign, so that in that throng few spoke an intelligible tongue.
Zagloba saw at last an attendant in Polish costume; hence he gave order to halt, and sure of good entertainment, had put forth one foot already from the wagon, asking at the same time, “But whose retinue is this, so splendid that the king can have no better?”
“Whose should it be,” replied the attendant, “but that of our lord, the Prince Marshal of Lithuania?”
“Whose?” repeated Zagloba.
“Are you deaf? Prince Boguslav Radzivill, who is going to the Convocation, but who, God grant, after the election will be elected.”
Zagloba hid his foot quickly in the wagon. “Drive on!” cried he. “There is nothing here for us!”