The prisoners turned their glances in the direction indicated, and amazement was reflected on every face. Under the burka, and in the cap of Zagloba, slept, with the sleep of the just, Pan Roh Kovalski; but Zagloba was not in the wagon.
“He has escaped, as God is dear to me!” said the astonished Mirski, looking around on every side, as if he did not yet believe his own eyes.
“Oh, he is a finished rogue! May the hangman—” cried Stankyevich.
“He took the helmet and yellow cloak of that fool, and escaped on his horse.”
“Vanished as if he had dropped into water.”
“He said he would get away by stratagem.”
“They will never see him again!”
“Gentlemen,” said Volodyovski, with delight, “you know not that man; and I swear to you to-day that he will rescue us yet,—I know not how, when, with what means,—but I swear that he will.”
“God grant it! One cannot believe his eyesight,” said Pan Stanislav.
The soldiers now saw what had happened. An uproar rose among them. One crowded ahead of the other to the wagon, stared at their commandant, dressed in a camel’s hair burka and lynx-skin cap, and sleeping soundly.