“These are wonders,—such wonders that I cannot put them in my head,” said Kharlamp; “for letting alone that they are such dignitaries, they are arrested without judgment, without a diet, without the will of the whole Commonwealth,—a thing which the king himself has not the right to do.”
“As true as I live,” cried Pan Michael.
“It is evident that the prince wants to introduce Roman customs among us,” said Pan Stanislav, “and become dictator in time of war.”
“Let him be dictator if he will only beat the Swedes,” said Zagloba; “I will be the first to vote for his dictatorship.”
Pan Yan fell to thinking, and after a while said, “Unless he should wish to become protector, like that English Cromwell who did not hesitate to raise his sacrilegious hand on his own king.”
“Nonsense! Cromwell? Cromwell was a heretic!” cried Zagloba.
“But what is the prince voevoda?” asked Pan Yan, seriously.
At this question all were silent, and considered the dark future for a time with fear; but Kharlamp looked angry and said,—
“I have served under the prince from early years, though I am little younger than he; for in the beginning, when I was still a stripling, he was my captain, later on he was full hetman, and now he is grand hetman. I know him better than any one here; I both love and honor him; therefore I ask you not to compare him with Cromwell, so that I may not be forced to say something which would not become me as host in this room.”
Here Kharlamp began to twitch his mustaches terribly, and to frown a little at Pan Yan; seeing which, Volodyovski fixed on Kharlamp a cool and sharp look, as if he wished to say, “Only growl, only growl!”