"They were well when I came out."
"Praise be to God! They are great friends of yours, my master--But the priest won't let me talk."
Jendzian was silent, and for a time was working at something with his head. Thoughtfulness was expressed on his ruddy face. After a while he said: "My master?"
"Well, what is it?"
"What will be done with the fortune of Pan Podbipienta? Very likely he has villages and every kind of property beyond measure--unless he has left it to his friends; for, as I hear, he has no relatives."
Skshetuski made no answer. Jendzian knew then that he did not like the question, and began as follows:--
"But God be praised that Pan Zagloba and Pan Volodyovski are well. I thought that the Tartars had caught them. We went through a world of trouble together--But the priest won't let me talk. Oh, my master, I thought that I should never see them again; for the horde so pressed upon us that there was no help."
"Then you were with Pan Volodyovski and Zagloba? They did not tell me anything about that."
"For they didn't know whether I was dead or alive."
"And where did the horde press on you so?"