Both whispered prayers for a certain time, maybe asking for themselves a similar death, if only not at the hands of Prince Boguslav. At last Pan Michael said,—
“Father Pyekarski assured us that Roh went straight to heaven.”
“Of course he did, and our prayers are not needed for him.”
“Prayers are always needed; for they are inscribed to the credit of others, and maybe to our own.”
“My hope is in the mercy of God,” said Kmita, sighing. “I trust that for what I have done in Prussia, even a couple of years will be taken from me in purgatory.”
“Everything there is reckoned. What a man works out here with his sabre, the heavenly secretary records.”
“I too served with Radzivill,” said Kmita, “but I shall not be confused at sight of Boguslav. My God, my God! Prostki is not far away! Remember, O Lord, that he is Thy enemy too, for he is a heretic who more than once has blasphemed Thy true faith.”
“And is an enemy of the country,” added Pan Michael. “We have hope that his end is approaching. Zagloba, speaking in grief and in tears and as if inspired, foretold the same after that attack of the hussars. He cursed Boguslav so that the hair stood on the head of every man listening. Prince Michael Radzivill, who is marching with us against him, saw also in a dream two golden trumpets, which the Radzivills have on their shield, gnawed by a bear, and he said at once next day, ‘Misfortune will meet me or some other Radzivill.’”
“By a bear?” asked Kmita, growing pale.
“By a bear.”