“I thought it was you, for I have been told that you were a man of advanced years.”
“I went to school in company with your highness’s worthy father; and there was such knightly impulse in him from childhood that he took me to his confidence, for I loved the lance before Latin.”
To Pan Stanislav, who knew Zagloba less, it was strange to hear this, since only the day before, Zagloba said in Upita that he had gone to school, not with the late Prince Kryshtof, but with Yanush himself,—which was unlikely, for Prince Yanush was notably younger.
“Indeed,” said the prince; “so then you are from Lithuania by family?”
“From Lithuania!” answered Zagloba, without hesitation.
“Then I know that you need no reward, for we Lithuanians are used to be fed with ingratitude. As God is true, if I should give you your deserts, gentlemen, there would be nothing left for myself. But such is fate! We give our blood, lives, fortunes, and no one nods a head to us. Ah! ’tis hard; but as they sow will they reap. That is what God and justice command. It is you who slew the famous Burlai and cut off three heads at a blow in Zbaraj?”
“I slew Burlai, your highness,” answered Zagloba, “for it was said that no man could stand before him. I wished therefore to show younger warriors that manhood was not extinct in the Commonwealth. But as to cutting off the three heads, it may be that I did that in the thick of battle; but in Zbaraj some one else did it.”
The prince was silent awhile, then continued: “Does not that contempt pain you, gentlemen, with which they pay you?”
“What is to be done, your highness, even if it is disagreeable to a man?” said Zagloba.
“Well, comfort yourselves, for that must change. I am already your debtor, since you have come here; and though I am not king, still with me it will not end with promises.”