“I have many relatives in Lithuania, and it is pleasant to know with whom one has to do.”
“No time for inquiries, but he is a fool who is ashamed of his name. I am Roh Kovalski, if you wish to know.”
“That is an honorable stock! The men are good soldiers, the women are virtuous. My grandmother was a Kovalski, but she made an orphan of me before I came to the world. Are you from the Vyerush, or the Korab Kovalskis?”
“Do you want to examine me as a witness, in the night?”
“Oh, I do this because you are surely a relative of mine, for we have the same build. You have large bones and shoulders, just like mine, and I got my form from my grandmother.”
“Well, we can talk about that on the road. We shall have time!”
“On the road?” said Zagloba; and a great weight fell from his breast. He breathed like a bellows, and gained courage at once.
“Pan Michael,” whispered he, “did I not say that they would not cut our heads off?”
Meanwhile they had reached the courtyard. Night had fallen completely. In places red torches were burning or lanterns gleaming, throwing an uncertain light on groups of soldiers, horse and foot, of various arms. The whole court was crowded with troops. Clearly they were ready to march, for a great movement was manifest on all sides. Here and there in the darkness gleamed lances and gun-barrels; horses’ hoofs clattered on the pavement; single horsemen hurried between the squadrons,—undoubtedly officers giving commands.
Kovalski stopped the convoy and the prisoners before an enormous wagon drawn by four horses, and having a box made as it were of ladders.