“Let it be so. Wait at Pan Oskyerko’s quarters for a letter.”
Hearing this, Pan Oskyerko conducted Sakovich at once to his quarters. The hetman waved his hand as a parting; then he turned to Pan Andrei. “Why did you say ‘Woe,’ when he spoke of that man whom they seized?” asked he, looking quickly and severely into the eyes of the knight. “Has hatred so deadened your conscience that you really sent a murderer to the prince?”
“By the Most Holy Lady whom I defended, no!” answered Kmita; “not through strange hands did I wish to reach his throat.”
“Why did you say ‘Woe’? Do you know that man?”
“I know him,” answered Kmita, growing pale from emotion and rage. “I sent him from Lvoff to Taurogi—Prince Boguslav took Panna Billevich to Taurogi—I love that lady. We were to marry—I sent that man to get me news of her. She was in such hands—”
“Calm yourself!” said the hetman. “Have you given him any letters?”
“No; she would not read them.”
“Why?”
“Boguslav told her that I offered to carry away the king.”
“Great are your reasons for hating him.”