“To go with us to the voevoda of Vityebsk, who will fight for the country.”
“But when I have an order to take you to Birji?”
“Talk with him,” said Mirski.
“We want you to disobey the command,—to leave the hetman, and go with us; do you understand?” said Oskyerko, impatiently.
“Say what you like, but nothing will come of that. I am a soldier; what would I deserve if I left the hetman? It is not my mind, but his; not my will, but his. When he sins he will answer for himself and for me, and it is my dog-duty to obey him. I am a simple man; what I do not effect with my hand, I cannot with my head. But I know this,—it is my duty to obey, and that is the end of it.”
“Do what you like!” cried Mirski.
“It is my fault,” continued Roh, “that I commanded to return to Kyedani, for I was ordered to go to Birji; but I became a fool through that noble, who, though a relative, did to me what a stranger would not have done. I wish he were not a relative, but he is. He had not God in his heart to take my horse, deprive me of the favor of the prince, and bring punishment on my shoulders. That is the kind of relative he is! But, gentlemen, you will go to Birji, let come what may afterward.”
“A pity to lose time, Pan Oskyerko,” said Volodyovski.
“Turn again toward Birji!” cried Kovalski to the dragoons.
They turned toward Birji a second time. Pan Roh ordered one of the dragoons to sit in the wagon; then he mounted that man’s horse, and rode by the side of the prisoners, repeating for a time, “A relative, and to do such a thing!”