"And I am Yan Skshetuski, lieutenant of the armored regiment of Prince Yeremi Vishnyevetski."
"You serve under a famous warrior. Accept my thanks and hand."
The lieutenant hesitated no longer. It is true that armored officers looked down on men of the other regiments; but Pan Yan was in the steppe, in the Wilderness, where such things were less remembered. Besides, he had to do with a colonel. Of this he had ocular proof, for when his soldiers brought Pan Abdank the belt and sabre which were taken from his person in order to revive him, they brought at the same time a short staff with a bone shaft and ivory head, such as Cossack colonels were in the habit of using. Besides, the dress of Zenovi Abdank was rich, and his educated speech indicated a quick mind and social training.
Pan Yan therefore invited him to supper. The odor of roasted meats began to go out from the fire just then, tickling the nostrils and the palate. The attendant brought the meats, and served them on a plate. The two men fell to eating; and when a good-sized goat-skin of Moldavian wine was brought, a lively conversation sprang up without delay.
"A safe return home to us," said Pan Yan.
"Then you are returning home? Whence, may I ask?" inquired Abdank.
"From a long journey,--from the Crimea."
"What were you doing there? Did you go with ransom?"
"No, Colonel, I went to the Khan himself."
Abdank turned an inquisitive ear. "Did you, indeed? Were you well received? And what was your errand to the Khan?"