“He deserves both. If he will not save us, we perish,—in him is salvation.”
“He is nearer to us than Yan Kazimir, for he is our blood.”
Radzivill caught with an eager ear those voices, dictated by fear or flattery, and did not consider that they came from the mouths of weak persons, who in danger would be the first to desert him,—from the mouths of persons whom every breath of wind might bend as a wave. And he was charmed with those expressions, and tempted himself, or his own conscience, repeating from the maxims he had heard that which seemed to excuse him the most: “Extrema necessitas, extremis nititur rationibus!”
But when passing a large group of nobles he heard from the lips of Pan Yujits, “He is nearer to us than Yan Kazimir,” his face grew bright altogether. To compare him with the king, and then to prefer him, flattered his pride; he approached Pan Yujits at once and said,—
“You are right, brothers, for in Yan Kazimir, in one pot of blood there is a quart of Lithuanian, but in me there is nothing but Lithuanian. If hitherto the quart has commanded the potful, it depends on you, brothers, to change that condition.”
“We are ready to drink a potful to your health,” answered Pan Yujits.
“You have struck my mind. Rejoice, brothers; I would gladly invite hither all Lithuania.”
“It would have to be trimmed still better,” said Pan Shchanyetski of Dalnovo,—a bold man, and cutting with the tongue as with the sword.
“What do you mean by that?” asked the prince, fixing his eyes on him.
“That the heart of your highness is wider than Kyedani.”