“Yes, and they will take oath on their swords, if you wish.”
“Let them take oath.”
“Come together, gentlemen, come together!” cried Volodyovski to the nobles who were standing under the walls and surrounding the whole house.
After a while all collected at the main door, and soon the news that Kmita wanted to blow himself up with powder spread on every side. They were as if petrified with terror. Meanwhile Volodyovski raised his voice and said amid silence like that of the grave,—
“I take you all present here to witness that I have challenged Pan Kmita, the banneret of Orsha, to a duel, and I have promised that if he puts me down he shall go hence in freedom, without obstacle from you; to this you must swear on your sword-hilts, in the name of God and the holy cross—”
“But wait!” cried Kmita,—“in freedom with all my men, and I take the lady with me.”
“The lady will remain here,” answered Volodyovski, “and the men will go as prisoners to the nobles.”
“That cannot be.”
“Then blow yourself up with powder! We have already mourned for her; as to the men, ask them what they prefer.”
Silence followed.