Then he turned to Rössel: “You are an old soldier; you have seen both armies, and you know our cavalry of old: what do you think,—on whose side will be victory?”
“If they meet you outside the trenches, on yours; but you cannot take the trenches without infantry and cannon, especially since everything is done there with Radzivill’s head.”
“Then do you consider him such a great leader?”
“Not only is that my opinion, but it is the general opinion in both armies. They say that at Warsaw the Most Serene King of Sweden followed his advice, and therefore won a great battle. The prince, as a Pole, has a better knowledge of your method of warfare and can manage more quickly. I saw myself that the King of Sweden after the third day of battle embraced him in front of the army and kissed him. It is true that he owed his life to him; for had it not been for the shot of the prince— But it is a terror to think of it! He is besides an incomparable knight, whom no man can meet with any weapon.”
“H’m!” said Volodyovski, “maybe there is such a man.”
When he had said this, his mustaches trembled threateningly. Rössel looked at him, and grew suddenly red. For a time it seemed that either he would burst a blood-vessel or break into laughter; but at last he remembered that he was in captivity, and controlled himself quickly. But Kmita with his steel eyes looked at him steadily and said,—
“That will be shown to-morrow.”
“But is Boguslav in good health?” asked Volodyovski; “for the fever shook him a long time, and must have weakened him.”
“He is, and has been this long time, as healthy as a fish, and takes no medicine. The doctor at first wanted to give him many preservatives, but immediately after the first came a paroxysm. Prince Boguslav gave orders to toss that doctor up from sheets; and that helped him, for the doctor himself got a fever from fright.”
“To toss him up from sheets?” asked Volodyovski.