"You say, then, that you were in Rozlogi?"
"Yes, we were."
"So!" said Zagloba; and suddenly he seized the youth by the shoulder. "Ha! scoundrels, criminals, thieves! you are going around as spies, rousing the serfs to rebellion. Here, Fedor, Oleksa, Maksim, take them, strip them naked, and hang or drown them; beat them,--they are rebels, spies,--beat, kill them!"
He began to pull the youth about and to shake him roughly, shouting louder and louder every moment. The old man threw himself on his knees, begging for mercy; the youth uttered sounds of terror peculiar to the dumb, and Helena looked with astonishment at the attack.
"What are you doing?" inquired she, not believing her own eyes.
But Zagloba shouted, cursed, moved hell, summoned all the miseries, misfortunes, and diseases, threatened with every manner of torment and death.
The princess thought that his mind had failed.
"Go away!" cried he to her; "it is not proper for you to see what is going to take place here. Go away, I tell you!"
He turned to the old man. "Take off your clothes, you clown! If you don't, I'll cut you to pieces."
When he had thrown the youth to the ground Zagloba began to strip him with his own hands. The old man, frightened, dropped his lyre, his bag, and his coat as quickly as he could.