"You will not regret it!"
"I shall be thankful all my life to you."
"Tell me, Glovbich, why did the prince send you, and not a foreign regiment, to the execution?"
"Because he wanted to disgrace you before the Poles. The foreign soldiers do not know you."
"And was nothing to happen to me?"
"I had the order to cut your bonds; but if you tried to defend Soroka we were to bring you for punishment to the prince."
"Then he was willing to sacrifice Sakovich," muttered Kmita.
Meanwhile Prince Boguslav in Yanov, wearied with the fever and the toil of the day, had gone to sleep. He was roused from slumber by an uproar in front of his quarters and a knocking at the door.
"Your highness, your highness!" cried a number of voices.
"He is asleep, do not rouse him!" answered the pages.
But the prince sat up in bed and cried, —
"A light!"
They brought in a light, and at the same time the officer on duty entered.
"Your highness," said he, "Sapyeha's envoy has brought Glovbich's squadron to mutiny and taken it to the hetman."
Silence followed.
"Sound the kettle-drums and other drums!" said Boguslav at last; "let the troops form in rank!"
The officer went out; the prince remained alone.
"That is a terrible man!" said he to himself; and he felt that a new paroxysm of fever was seizing him.
