“Well, now, what did I say? Who has crushed Prince Boguslav? Maybe Pan Sapyeha? A fig for Sapyeha! Who will crush the Swedes in the same style? Who will exterminate traitors? Who is the greatest cavalier, who is the greatest knight? Pan Andrei, Pan Andrei!”
“What Andrei?” asked Olenka, growing pale suddenly.
“Have I not told you that his name is Andrei? He told me that himself. Pan Babinich! Long life to Babinich! Volodyovski could not have done better!—What is the matter, Olenka?”
Panna Billevich shook herself as if wishing to throw off a burden of grievous thoughts. “Nothing! I was thinking that traitors themselves bear that name. For there was one who offered to sell the king, dead or alive, to the Swedes or to Boguslav; and he had the same name,—Andrei.”
“May God condemn him!” roared Billevich. “Why mention traitors at night? Let us be glad when we have reason.”
“Only let Pan Babinich come here!” added Anusia. “That’s what is needed! I will fool Braun still more. I will, I will, of purpose to raise the whole garrison, and go over with men and horses to Pan Babinich.”
“Do that, do that!” cried Billevich, delighted.
“And afterward—a fig for all those Germans! Maybe he will forget that good-for-nothing woman, and give me his lo—”
Then again her thin voice piped; she covered her face with her hands. All at once an angry thought must have come to her, for she clapped her hands, and said,—
“If not, I will marry Volodyovski!”