“I prefer him to you, Pan Michael; for I could never endure May-bugs, nor soapy little fellows who at the sight of the first woman who comes along play antics like German dogs.”
“Or like those monkeys in the Kazanovski Palace, with which you were carrying on war.”
“Oh, laugh, laugh! You can take Warsaw without me next time.”
“Was it you, then, who took Warsaw?”
“But who captured the Cracow Gate? Who invented captivity for the generals? They are sitting now on bread and water in Zamost; and when Wittemberg looks at Wrangel, he says, ‘Zagloba put us here!’ and both fall to weeping. If Sapyeha were not ill, and if he were present, he would tell you who first drew the Swedish claw from the skin of Warsaw.”
“For God’s sake!” said Kmita, “do this for me,—send news of that battle for which they are preparing at Warsaw. I shall be counting the days and nights on my fingers till I know something certain.”
Zagloba put his finger to his forehead. “Listen to my forecast,” said he, “for what I tell you will be accomplished as surely as that this glass is standing before me— Is it not standing before me?”
“It is, it is! Speak on.”
“We shall either lose this general battle, or we shall win it—”
“Every man knows that!” put in Volodyovski.