Here Pan Andrei cast a challenging look on the officers. But no one contradicted him, for all loved and respected Pan Michael; but Zagloba said,—
“This is a sulphurous sort of soldier; give him to the hangman! It seems to me that I shall have a great liking to you for the love you bear Pan Michael, for I am the man to ask first how worthy he is.”
“Worthier than any of us!” said Kmita, with his usual abruptness. Then he looked at the Skshetuskis, at Zagloba, and added: “Pardon me, gentlemen, I have no wish to offend any one, for I know that you are honorable men and great knights; be not angry, for I wish to deserve your friendship.”
“There is no harm done,” said Pan Yan; “what’s in the heart may come to the lip.”
“Let us embrace!” cried Zagloba.
“No need to say such a thing twice to me!”
They fell into each other’s arms. Then Kmita said, “To-day we must drink, it cannot be avoided!”
“No need to say such a thing twice to me!” said Zagloba, like an echo.
“We’ll slip away early to the barracks, and I’ll make provision.”
Pan Michael began to twitch his mustaches greatly. “You will have no great wish to slip out,” thought he, looking at Kmita, “when you see who is in the hall tonight.” And he opened his mouth to tell Kmita that the sword-bearer of Rossyeni and Olenka had come; but he grew as it were faint at heart, and turned the conversation. “Where is your squadron?” asked he.