“And who are you?” repeated that personage.
“A noble like yourself,” answered Pan Andrei, waking as if from a dream.
“What is your name?”
“What is my name? Babinich; I am from Lithuania, from near Vityebsk.”
“And I am Pan Lugovski, of the king’s household. Have you just come from Lithuania, from Vityebsk?”
“No; I come from Chenstohova.”
Pan Lugovski was dumb for a moment from wonder.
“But if that is true, then come and tell us the news. The king is almost dead from anxiety because he has had no certain tidings these three days. How is it? You are perhaps from the squadron of Zbrojek, Kalinski, or Kuklinovski, from near Chenstohova.”
“Not from near Chenstohova, but directly from the cloister itself.”
“Are you not jesting? What is going on there, what is to be heard? Does Yasna Gora defend itself yet?”