"I do not believe," whispered Volodyovski, "that you can shake off everything in that way,--for example, love, which clings to the heart like a wood-tick."
"If love is genuine," said Pan Longin, "then even if you should wrestle with it as with a bear, it would throw you."
Having said this, Podbipienta relieved his swollen breast with a sigh which was like the puff of a blacksmith's bellows; but little Volodyovski raised his eyes to heaven, as if seeking among the stars that one which was shining on Princess Barbara.
The horses began to snort in the whole company, and the soldiers answered, "Health, health!" Then all was silent till some melancholy voice began to sing in the rear ranks:
"You are going to the war, my boy,
You are going to the war!
Your nights will be cold,
And your days will be hot--"
"Old soldiers say that horses always snort as a good omen, as my deceased father used to tell me," said Volodyovski.
"Something whispers, as it were, in my ear, that we are not going for nothing," answered Zagloba.
"God grant that some consolation enter the heart of the lieutenant!" sighed Pan Longin.
Zagloba began to nod and turn his head like a man who is unable to conquer some idea, and at last said,--
"Something altogether different is in my head, and I must get rid of the thought, for I cannot endure it. Have you noticed that for some time Skshetuski--I am not sure, maybe he dissembles--but still he, as it were, thinks less than any of us of saving that unfortunate lady."