“That is my affair.”
“Ah, ha! your affair,” said Charnyetski. “You may give me that answer to other questions.”
Pan Andrei’s hands quivered, he fixed his eyes on the heavy brass bell standing before him on the table, and from that bell they were turned to the head of the questioner. A wild desire seized him to grasp that bell and bring it down on the skull of Charnyetski. The old Kmita was gaining the upper hand over the pious and penitent Babinich; but he broke himself once more and said,—
“Inquire.”
“If you are from Jmud, then you must know what is happening at the court of the traitor. Name to me those who have aided in the ruin of the country, name to me those colonels who remain with him.”
Kmita grew pale as a handkerchief, but still mentioned some names. Charnyetski listened and said, “I have a friend, an attendant of the king, Pan Tyzenhauz, who told me of one, the most noted. Do you know nothing of this arch criminal?”
“I do not know.”
“How is this? Have you not heard of him who spilled his brother’s blood, like Cain? Have you not heard, being from Jmud, of Kmita?”
“Revered fathers!” screamed Pan Andrei, on a sudden, shaking as in a fever, “let a clerical person question me, I will tell all. But by the living God do not let this noble torment me longer!”
“Give him peace,” said the prior, turning to Pan Pyotr. “It is not a question here of this cavalier.”