“Father is right!” said Pan Yan; “he could not come here.”
“Then why was he going to the Swedes?” insisted the stubborn Pan Michael.
“The devil knows, whether he is going to the Swedes; the devil knows what may flash into Kmita’s wild noddle. That is nothing to us, but let us take advantage of the warning, if we wish to carry away our heads.”
“There is nothing to meditate on here,” said Pan Stanislav.
“It is needful to inform with all speed Kotovski, Jyromski, Lipnitski, and that other Kmita,” said Pan Yan. “Send to them, Michael, news at once; but do not write who gave the warning, for surely they would not believe.”
“We alone shall know whose the service, and in due time we shall not fail to publish it!” cried Zagloba, “Onward, lively, Michael!”
“And we will move to Byalystok ourselves, appointing a muster there for all. God give us the voevoda of Vityebsk at the earliest,” said Yan.
“From Byalystok we must send a deputation from the army to him. God grant that we shall stand before the eyes of the hetman of Lithuania,” said Zagloba, “with equal force or greater than his own. It is not for us to rush at him, but it is different with the voevoda. He is a worthy man, and honest; there is not another such in the Commonwealth.”
“Do you know Pan Sapyeha?” asked Stanislav.
“Do I know him! I knew him as a little boy, not higher than my sabre. But he was then like an angel.”