"To-day, if I could, your Highness."
"Then set out to-morrow. You cannot go alone. I will give you three hundred of Vershul's Tartars to bring her home in safety. You will go quickest with them, and you will need them, for bands of ruffians are wandering about. I will give you a letter to Andrei Pototski; but before I write to him, before the Tartars come, and before you are ready, it will be to-morrow evening."
"As your Highness commands. I make bold to request further that Volodyovski and Podbipienta go with me."
"Very well. Come again to-morrow morning for my farewell and a blessing. I should like also to send your princess a present. She is of a noted family. You will both be happy, because you are worthy of each other."
The knight knelt and embraced the knees of his beloved chief, who repeated several times,--
"God make you happy! God make you happy! But come again to-morrow morning."
Still the knight did not go; he lingered as if wishing to ask for something else. At last he broke out: "Your Highness!"
"And what more do you say?" asked the prince, mildly.
"Pardon my boldness, but--my heart is cut, and from sorrow comes great boldness. What affects your Highness? Does trouble weigh you down, or is it disease?"
The prince put his hand on Skshetuski's head. "You cannot know this," said he, with sweetness in his voice. "Come to-morrow morning."