"Permit me, gentlemen, to draw breath," said Jendzian; "and I will close the window, for those wretches of nightingales are tearing away in the bushes at such a rate that it is impossible to speak."
"Mead!" cried Volodyovski to the servant.
Jendzian closed the window with his usual deliberation, then turned to the company and said; "You will let me sit down, for I am tired."
"Sit down!" said Volodyovski, pouring to him from the decanter borne in by the servant. "Drink with us, for you deserve it for the news which you bring. If you will only speak as soon as possible!"
"Good mead!" said he, raising the glass toward the light.
"May you be split! will you talk?" shouted Zagloba.
"You are angry at once, my master! I will talk if you wish; it is for you to command and me to obey, that's why I am a servant. But I see that I must start from the beginning and tell everything in detail."
"Speak from the beginning!"
"You remember, gentlemen, how the news of the taking of Bar came; how we thought then that the young lady was lost? So I returned to the Jendzians,--to my parents and my grandfather, who is now ninety years old--I speak correctly--no! ninety-and-one."
"May he be nine hundred!" burst out Zagloba.