In fact, more and more foot-soldiers gathered around the envoys, looking at them curiously. The envoys were dressed so carefully in elegant and even rich garments, that they made an imposing appearance. Zagloba arrested most attention, for he bore himself with almost senatorial dignity; Volodyovski was less considered, by reason of his stature.
Meanwhile the officer who received them first on the bank returned with another of higher rank, and with soldiers leading horses. The superior officer bowed to the envoys and said in Polish,—
“His Royal Grace asks you, gentlemen, to his quarters; and since they are not very near we have brought horses.”
“Are you a Pole?” asked Zagloba.
“No, I am a Cheh,—Sadovski, in the Swedish service.”
Kmita approached him at once. “Do you know me?”
Sadovski looked at him quickly. “Of course! At Chenstohova you blew up the largest siege gun, and Miller gave you to Kuklinovski. I greet you, greet you heartily as a famous knight.”
“And what is going on with Kuklinovski?” asked Kmita.
“But do you not know?”
“I know that I paid him with that with which he wanted to treat me, but I left him alive.”