“Forcing or not forcing, it is permitted you; and it is proper to assist a blood relative and an older man, who, if he had married your mother, might have been your father as easily as wink.”
“What relative are you of mine?”
“I am, for there are two stocks of Kovalskis,—they who use the seal of Vyerush and have a goat painted on their shield, with upraised hind leg; and they who have on their shield the ship in which their ancestor Kovalski sailed from England across the sea to Poland; and these are my relatives, through my grandmother, and this is why I, too, have the ship on my shield.”
“As God lives! you are my relative.”
“Are you a Korab (ship)?”
“A Korab.”
“My own blood, as God is dear to me!” cried Zagloba. “It is lucky that we have met, for in very truth I have come here to Lithuania to see the Kovalskis; and though I am in bonds while you are on horseback and in freedom I would gladly embrace you, for what is one’s own is one’s own.”
“How can I help you? They commanded me to take you to Birji; I will take you. Blood is blood, but service is service.”
“Call me Uncle,” said Zagloba.
“Here is gorailka for you, Uncle,” said Kovalski; “I can do that much.”