“Is that an easy thing? Though some one were to admit him to his escutcheon, the Diet would have to confirm the choice; and for that, time and protection are necessary.”
“I do not like this,—that time is needed,—for we could find protection. Surely the hetman would not refuse it to Azya, for he loves soldiers. Michael, write to the hetman. Do you want ink, pen, paper? Write at once! I’ll bring you everything, and a taper and the seal; and you will sit down and write without delay.”
“O Almighty God!” cried he, “I asked a sedate, sober wife of Thee, and Thou didst give me a whirlwind!”
“Talk that way, talk; then I’ll die.”
“Ah, your impatience!” cried the little knight, with animation,—“your impatience, tfu! tfu! a charm for a dog!” Here he turned to Zagloba: “Do you not know the words of a charm?”
“I know them, and I’ve told them,” said Zagloba.
“Write!” cried Basia, “or I shall jump out of my skin.”
“I would write twelve letters, to please you, though I know not what good that would be, for in this case the hetman himself can do nothing; even with protection, Azya can appear only at the right time. My Basia, Panna Novoveski has revealed her secret to you,—very well! But you have not spoken to Azya, and you do not know to this moment whether he is burning with love for Eva or not.”
“He not burning! Why shouldn’t he be burning, when he kissed her in the storehouse? Aha!”
“Golden soul!” said Zagloba, smiling. “That is like the talk of a newly born infant, except that you turn your tongue better. My love, if Michael and I had to marry all the women whom we happened to kiss, we should have to join the Mohammedan faith at once, and I should be Sultan of Turkey, and he Khan of the Crimea. How is that, Michael, hei?”