“I do not.”
“There is an agreement between me and the prince voevoda that his daughter and his fortune are growing up for me. As a faithful servant of the Radzivills, you may know everything.”
“Thank you for the confidence. But your highness is mistaken. I am not a servant of the Radzivills.”
Boguslav opened his eyes widely. “What are you?”
“I am a colonel of the hetman, not of the castle; and besides I am the hetman’s relative.”
“A relative?”
“I am related to the Kishkis, and the hetman is born of a Kishki.”
Prince Boguslav looked for a while at Kmita, on whose face a light flush appeared. All at once he stretched forth his hands and said,—
“I beg your pardon, cousin, and I am glad of the relationship.”
The last words were uttered with a certain inattentive though showy politeness, in which there was something directly painful to Pan Andrei. His face flushed still more, and he was opening his mouth to say something hasty, when the door opened and Harasimovich appeared on the threshold.