Meanwhile they approached within a few steps, but could not see the men standing near the cabin, for the horses concealed them.
All at once Kmita stepped forward. Those approaching did not recognize him, however, for his face was bound up; they halted, and began to measure him with curious and unquiet eyes.
“And where is the other son, Pan Kyemlich?” asked Kmita; “he has not fallen, I hope.”
“Who is that—how is that—what—who is talking?” asked the old man, in a voice of amazement and as it were terrified.
And he stood motionless, with mouth and eyes widely open; then the son, who since he was younger had quicker vision, took the cap from his head.
“For God’s sake, father! that’s the colonel!” cried he.
“O Jesus! sweet Jesus!” cried the old man, “that is Pan Kmita!”
And both took the fixed posture of subordinates saluting their commanders, and on their faces were depicted both shame and wonder.
“Ah! such sons,” said Pan Andrei, laughing, “and greeted me from a gun?”
Here the old man began to shout,—