“I will drink with a gentleman!” said Kmita, rather abruptly.
Dovgird and Hudzynski began to puff, taking the answer as an expression of contempt for them; but they would not begin a quarrel at once in a friendly house, and that with a roisterer who had a terrible reputation throughout all Jmud. Still the insult nettled them.
Meanwhile the sword-bearer clapped his hands for a servant, and ordered him to bring a fourth glass; then he filled it, raised his own to his lips, and said, “Into your hands— I am glad to see you in my house.”
“I should be sincerely glad were that true.”
“A guest is a guest,” said the sword-bearer, sententiously.
After awhile, conscious evidently of his duty as a host to keep up the conversation, he asked, “What do you hear at Kyedani? How is the health of the hetman?”
“Not strong,” answered Kmita, “and in these unquiet times it cannot be otherwise. The prince has a world of troubles and annoyances.”
“I believe that!” said Pan Hudzynski.
Kmita looked at him for a while, then turned to the host and continued,—
“The prince, being promised assistance by the Swedish King, expected to move against the enemy at Vilna without delay, and take vengeance for the ashes of that place, which have not yet grown cold. And it must be known also to you that now it is necessary to search for Vilna in Vilna, for it was burning seventeen days. They say that nothing is visible among the ruins but the black holes of cellars from which smoke is still rising continually.”