“Where are my letters?” asked he.
“What letters?”
“Letters that I had on my body. They were fastened to my belt; where is the belt?” asked Pan Andrei, in haste.
“I unbuckled the belt myself, that your grace might breathe more easily; there it is.”
“Bring it.”
Soroka gave him a belt lined with white leather, to which a bag was attached by cords. Kmita untied it and took out papers hastily.
“These are passes to the Swedish commandants; but where are the letters?” asked he, in a voice full of disquiet.
“What letters?” asked Soroka.
“Hundreds of thunders! the letters of the hetman to the Swedish King, to Pan Lyubomirski, and all those that I had.”
“If they are not on the belt, they are nowhere. They must have been lost in the time of the riding.”