“What does your grace command now?” asked Kyemlich.
“First, here are two letters, requiring quick delivery. Have you sharp men?”
“Where must they go?”
“Let one go to the prince voevoda, but without seeing Radzivill himself. Let him deliver the letter in the first squadron of the prince, and come back without awaiting an answer.”
“The pitch-maker will go; he is a sharp man and experienced.”
“He will do. The second letter must be taken to Podlyasye; inquire for Pan Volodyovski’s Lauda squadron, and give it into the hands of the colonel himself.”
The old man began to mutter cunningly, and thought, “I see work on every side; since he is sniffing with the confederates there will be boiling water,—there will be, there will be!”
“Your grace,” said he, aloud, “if there is not such a hurry with this letter, when we leave the forest it perhaps might be given to some man on the road. There are many nobles here friendly to the confederates; any one would take it willingly, and one man more would remain to us.”
“You have calculated shrewdly,” answered Kmita, “for it is better that he who delivers the letter should not know from whom he takes it. Shall we go out of the forest soon?”
“As your grace wishes. We can go out in two weeks, or to-morrow.”