“It will surely be difficult in the matter of horses,” answered Volodyovski. “A great number of the small nobility here will rally at the first summons, but they have only wretched little Jmud ponies, not very capable of service. For a good campaign it would be needful to give them all fresh horses.”
“Those are good horses; I know them of old, wonderfully enduring and active.”
“Bah!” responded Volodyovski, “but small, and the men here are large. If they should form in line on such horses, you would think them a squadron mounted on dogs. There is where the rub is. I will work with zeal, for I am in haste myself. Leave Kmita’s commission with me, as the hetman commands; I will give it to him. It has come just in season.”
“But why?”
“For he has acted here in Tartar fashion and taken a lady captive. There are as many lawsuits and questions hanging over him as he has hairs on his head. It is not a week since I had a sabre-duel with him.”
“Ai!” cried Kharlamp. “If you had a sabre-duel with him, he is in bed at this moment.”
“But he is better already. In a week or two he will be well. What is to be heard de publicis?”
“Evil in the old fashion. The under-treasurer, Pan Gosyevski, the full hetman, is ever quarrelling with the prince; and as the hetmans do not agree, affairs do not move in harmony. Still we have improved a little, and I think that if we had concord we might manage the enemy. God will permit us yet to ride on their necks to their own land. Gosyevski is to blame for all.”
“But others say it is specially the grand hetman, Prince Radzivill.”
“They are traitors. The voevoda of Vityebsk talks that way, for he and the under-treasurer are cronies this long time.”