“He was knocking his head against the wall and crying about disgrace. He was wriggling like a mudfish. He wanted to run after the Billeviches, but the guards would not let him. He drew his sabre; they had to tie him. He is lying quietly now.”
“Has the sword-bearer of Rossyeni gone?”
“There was no order to stop him.”
“I forgot!” said the prince. “Open the windows, for it is stifling and asthma is choking me. Tell Kharlamp to go to Upita for the squadron and bring it here at once. Give him money, let him pay the men for the first quarter and let them get merry. Tell him that he will receive Dydkyemie for life instead of Volodyovski. The asthma is choking me. Wait!”
“According to order.”
“What is Kmita doing?”
“As I said, your highness, he is lying quietly.”
“True, you told me. Give the order to send him here. I want to speak with him. Have his fetters taken off.”
“Your highness, he is a madman.”
“Have no fear, go!”