“Do not weep. Kmita came to my mind only because that he at least would have been able to wrest us out of this Babylonian captivity. He would have given it to all the Brauns, Kettlings, Pattersons, to Boguslav himself! But they are all the same type of traitors. Weep not! You can do nothing with weeping; here it is necessary to counsel. Kettling will not help,—may he be twisted! We will do without him. You have as it were a man’s courage in you, but in difficulty you are only able to sob. What does Kettling say?”
“He says that the prince has given orders to guard us as prisoners of war, fearing, Uncle, that you would collect a party and go to the confederates.”
Billevich put his hands on his hips: “Ha, ha, ha! he is afraid, the scoundrel! And he is right, for I will do so, as God is in heaven.”
“Having a command relating to service, Kettling must carry it out on his honor.”
“Well! we shall get on without the assistance of heretics.”
Olenka wiped her eyes. “And does my uncle think it is possible?”
“I think it is necessary; and if it is necessary it is possible, though we had to let ourselves down by ropes from these windows.”
“It was wrong for me to shed tears; let us make plans as quickly as we can.”
Her tears were dry, her brows contracted again from thought and her former endurance and energy.
It appeared, in fact, that Billevich could find no help, and that the imagination of the lady was much richer in means. But it was difficult for her, since it was clear that they were guarded carefully.