Kmita was somewhat confused, and began to throw up his hatchet. “I was,” answered he.
“Give peace to your hatchet,” said Tyzenhauz. “And what were you doing at the prince’s house?”
“I was a guest,” answered Kmita, impatiently, “and I ate his bread, until I was disgusted with his treason.”
“And why did you not go with other honorable soldiers to Pan Sapyeha?”
“Because I had made a vow to go to Chenstohova, which you will more easily understand when I tell you that our Ostra Brama was occupied by the Northerners.”
Tyzenhauz began to shake his head and smack his lips; this attracted the attention of the king, so that he looked inquiringly at Kmita. The latter, made impatient, turned to Tyzenhauz and said,—
“My worthy sir! Why do I not inquire of you where you have been, and what you have been doing?”
“Ask me,” replied Tyzenhauz; “I have nothing to conceal.”
“Neither am I before a court; and if I shall ever be, you will not be my judge. Leave me, then, that I lose not my patience.”
When he had said this, he hurled the hatchet so sharply that it grew small in the height; the king raised his eyes after it, and at that moment he was thinking of nothing save this, would Babinich catch it in its fall, or would he not catch it?