Heavy steps were heard, followed by the gloomy rattle of spurs; and six soldiers, with Yuzva Butrym in front, entered the room.
“Take him!” commanded Volodyovski, “lead him outside the village and put a bullet in his head.”
The heavy hand of Butrym rested on the collar of Kmita, after that two other hands.
“Do not let them drag me like a dog!” said Kmita to Volodyovski. “I will go myself.”
Volodyovski nodded to the soldiers, who released him at once, but surrounded him; and he walked out calmly, not speaking to any man, only whispering his prayers.
Panna Aleksandra went out also, through the opposite door, to the adjoining rooms. She passed the first and the second, stretching out her hand in the darkness before her; suddenly her head whirled, the breath failed in her bosom, and she fell, as if dead, on the floor.
Among those who were assembled in the first room a dull silence reigned for some time; at last Billevich broke it. “Is there no mercy for him?” asked he.
“I am sorry for him,” answered Zagloba, “for he went manfully to death.”
To which Mirski said, “He shot a number of officers out of my squadron, besides those whom he slew in attack.”
“And from mine too,” added Stankyevich; “and he cut up almost all of Nyevyarovski’s men.”