“They are regular places,” said Jendzian.
“In that case it is all right. But why go to those places? You can sell horses in Shchuchyn, where there is a great lack of them, and those which we took in Pilvishki are good for nothing; they are galled.”
“Every man goes where it is better for him, and we know our own road,” answered Kmita.
“I know not whether it is better for you; but it is not better for us that horses are driven to the Swedes and informants go to them.”
“It is a wonder to me,” said the tenant of Vansosh. “These people talk against the Swedes, and somehow they are in a hurry to go to them.” Here he turned to Kmita: “And you do not seem to me greatly like a horse-dealer, for I saw a fine ring on your finger, of which no lord would be ashamed.”
“If it has pleased your grace, buy it of me; I gave two quarters for it in Leng.”
“Two quarters? Then it is not genuine, but a splendid counterfeit. Show it.”
“Take it, your grace.”
“Can you not move yourself? Must I go?”
“I am terribly tired.”