“We know,” answered they.
“By a million horned devils!” cried Boguslav, with an outburst. “Will you command these people to let me go, or not?”
“Your highness, I will order them to bind your arms behind your back; then you will be quieter.”
“Impossible! You will put my arms quite out of joint.”
“I would give orders to let another off on his word that he would not try to escape, but you know how to break your word,” said Kmita.
“I will give another word,” answered the prince,—“that not only will I escape at the first opportunity, but I will have you torn apart with horses, when you fall into my hands.”
“What God wants to give, he gives!” said Kmita. “But I prefer a sincere threat to a lying promise. Let go his hands, only hold his horse by the bridle; but, your highness, look here! I have but to touch the trigger to put a bullet into your body, and I shall not miss, for I never miss. Sit quietly; do not try to escape.”
“I do not care, Cavalier, for you or your pistol.”
When he had said this, the prince stretched his aching arms, to straighten them and shake off the numbness. The soldiers caught the horse’s bridle on both sides, and led him on.
After a while Boguslav said, “You dare not look me in the eyes, Pan Kmita; you hide in the rear.”