"Oh, you don't know him! I would swear that he knew she was in Bar. It cannot be but he has saved her from slaughter and taken her somewhere."
"You do not give us much consolation; for in Skshetuski's place, I should rather have her perish than fall into his scoundrelly hands."
"The other is no consolation; for if she has perished, she was disgraced."
"Desperation!" exclaimed Volodyovski.
"Desperation!" repeated Pan Longin.
Zagloba pulled his beard; at last he burst out: "May the mange devour the whole race of curs! May the Pagans twist bow-strings out of their entrails! God created all nations, but the devil created these sons of Sodom. May barrenness strike the trash!"
"I did not know that sweet lady," said Volodyovski, gloomily, "but I would that misfortune met me rather than her."
"Once in my life I saw her," said Pan Longin; "but when I think of her, life is a burden of regret."
"You describe your own feelings," said Zagloba; "but what do you think of me, who loved her like a father, and rescued her from that misery,--what do you think of me?"
"And what do you think of Pan Yan?" asked Volodyovski.