"We must go to Skshetuski at once, and not let him off till he finds the girl."
"True, we will go at once; but now there is no way of getting to Zamost."
"That's all the same, if only God will favor us later."
Zagloba raised his glass. "He will, he will," said he. "Do you know, Pan Michael, what I'll tell you?"
"What is it?"
"Bogun is killed."
Volodyovski looked at him with astonishment. "Yes; who should know that better than I?"
"May your hands be holy! you know and I know. I saw how you fought; you are now before my eyes, and still I must repeat it to myself continually, for at times it seems as though I had only some kind of a dream. What a care has been removed! what a knot your sabre cut! May the bullets strike you! for God knows, this is too great to be told. No, I cannot restrain myself; let me press you once again, Pan Michael. If you will believe, when I made your acquaintance I thought to myself: 'There is a little whipper-snapper.' A nice whipper-snapper, to slash Bogun in this fashion! Bogun is gone; no trace, no ashes of him,--slain to death for the ages of ages; amen!"
Here Zagloba began to hug and kiss Volodyovski, and Pan Michael was moved to tears as if sorry for Bogun. At last, however, he freed himself from Zagloba's embraces and said: "We were not present at his death, and he is hard to kill. Suppose he recovers?"
"Oh, in God's name, what are you talking about?" said Zagloba. "I should be ready to go to-morrow to Lipki and arrange the nicest funeral for him, just after his death."