“How is Hassling?” asked he on the threshold.
“He is sick and imagines every folly,” answered Kmita.
“And you, my dear Michael, what do you want of Hassling?” asked Zagloba.
“Just as if you do not know!”
“I could not know that it is a question with you of that cherry-tree which Prince Boguslav has planted in his garden. He is a diligent gardener; he does not need to wait a year for fruit.”
“I wish you were killed for such jokes!” cried the little knight.
“Look at him, tell him the most innocent thing, and immediately his mustaches are quivering like the horns of a mad grasshopper. In what am I to blame? Seek vengeance on Boguslav, not on me.”
“God grant me to seek and to find!”
“Just now Babinich has said the same! Before long I see that he will raise the whole army against the prince; but Boguslav is taking good care of himself, and without my stratagems you will not be able to succeed.”
Here both young men sprang to their feet and asked,—