“That is our wish,—from heart and soul our wish! Long life to him! May he rule!”
The magnate rose with a face as red as purple. “I thank you, brothers,” said he, seriously.
In the hall it had become as suffocating and hot, from lights and the breath of people, as in a bath.
Panna Aleksandra bent past Kmita to her uncle. “I am weak,” said she; “let us leave here.”
In truth her face was pale, and on her forehead glittered drops of perspiration; but the sword-bearer of Rossyeni cast an unquiet glance at the hetman, fearing lest it be taken ill of him to leave the table. In the field he was a gallant soldier, but he feared Radzivill with his whole soul.
At that moment, to complete the evil, the hetman said,—
“He is my enemy who will not drink all my toasts to the bottom, for I am joyful to-day.”
“You have heard?” asked Billevich.
“Uncle, I cannot stay longer, I am faint,” said Olenka, with a beseeching voice.
“Then go alone,” answered Pan Tomash.