The murmur became a loud bustle, in which were heard single words: “Devils!” “Thunders!” “Pagan service!”
Suddenly Kmita shouted as if they had been drawing him on to the stake,—
“Stop!”
The executioner halted involuntarily. All eyes were turned to Kmita.
“Soldiers!” shouted Pan Andrei, “Prince Boguslav is a traitor to the king and the Commonwealth! You are surrounded, and to-morrow you will be cut to pieces. You are serving a traitor; you are serving against the country! But whoso leaves this service leaves the traitor; to him forgiveness of the king, forgiveness of the hetman! Choose! Death and disgrace, or a reward to-morrow! I will pay wages, and a ducat a man,—two ducats a man! Choose! It is not for you, worthy soldiers, to serve a traitor! Long life to the king! Long life to the grand hetman of Lithuania!”
The disturbance was turned into thunder; the ranks were broken. A number of voices shouted,—
“Long life to the king!”
“We have had enough of this service!”
“Destruction to traitors!”
“Stop! stop!” shouted other voices.