He could speak no further. He had grown so weak that Pan Longin was obliged to raise him and place him on the bench; but it was evident from his looks that he had grasped at that hope as a drowning man at a plank, and that his pain had left him. The officers fanned that spark, saying he might find the princess in Lubni. Afterward they took him to another cottage, and then brought him mead and wine. He wished to drink, but could not, his throat was so straitened. His faithful comrades drank instead; and when they had grown gladsome they began to embrace and kiss him, and to wonder at his meagreness and the marks of sickness which he bore on his face.
"Oh, you look like one risen from the dead," said portly Pan Dzik.
"It must be they insulted you in the Saitch, and gave you neither food nor drink."
"Tell us what happened to you."
"I will tell you some time," said Skshetuski, with a weak voice. "They wounded me, and I was sick."
"They wounded him!" cried Pan Dzik.
"They wounded him, though an envoy!" added Pan Sleshinski. The officers, astounded at Cossack insolence, looked at one another, and then began to press forward to Pan Yan with great friendliness.
"And did you see Hmelnitski?"
"I did."
"Well, give him here!" said Migurski; "we will make mince-meat of him in a minute."