“True, your worthiness, true.”
“Does the prince know that man?”
“He knows him. That is the sergeant Soroka. He helped me to carry off Boguslav.”
“I understand,” said the hetman; “the vengeance of the prince is awaiting him.”
A moment of silence followed.
“The prince is in a trap,” said the hetman, after a while; “maybe he will consent to give him up.”
“Let your worthiness,” said Kmita, “detain Sakovich, and send me to the prince. Perhaps I may rescue Soroka.”
“Is his fate such a great question for you?”
“An old soldier, an old servant; he carried me in his arms. A multitude of times he has saved my life. God would punish me were I to abandon him in such straits.” And Kmita began to tremble from pity and anxiety.
But the hetman said: “It is no wonder to me that the soldiers love you, for you love them. I will do what I can. I will write to the prince that I will free for him whomsoever he wishes for that soldier, who besides at your command has acted as an innocent agent.”