"Yes, there were letters from Skshetuski to the princess and to you; but Bogun seized them, and from them learned everything. Then he struck down Jendzian at once, and set out to take vengeance on the Kurtsevichi."
"Oh, unfortunate youth! He has shed his blood on my account."
"Do not grieve; he will recover."
"When did this happen?"
"Yesterday morning. For Bogun to fell a man is no more than for another to toss off a glass of wine. And after the reading of the letters, he roared so that all Chigirin trembled."
Conversation was interrupted for a moment. Daylight had come. The rosy dawn, streaked with opals, bright gold, and purple, was glowing in the east. The breeze was fresh; the horses, now rested, moved gladly.
"Let us go on, in God's name, and quickly! Our horses have drawn breath, and we have no time to lose," said Zagloba.
They went again at a gallop, and rushed on for two or three miles without rest. All at once a dark point appeared ahead of them, which approached with amazing rapidity.
"What can that be?" asked Zagloba. "Let us draw up a little. That's a man on horseback."
In fact, some horseman was approaching them at full speed. Bent forward in the saddle, with face hidden in the mane of the horse, he continued to urge with a nagaika the stallion, which seemed not to touch the ground.