Barely a few courtiers were present, with whom Zbyshko was talking. Matsko made them acquainted immediately with De Lorche, but as they had no knowledge of German, he had himself to entertain the knight further. But every moment new courtiers came,—for the greater part splendid fellows, untrained yet, but large, broad-shouldered, yellow-haired, dressed as if for the wilderness.
Those who were acquainted with Zbyshko and knew of his Cracow adventure greeted him as an old friend, and it was evident that he enjoyed consideration among them. Some looked on him with that wonder with which people look on a man over whose neck the axe of the executioner has been lifted. Round about were heard voices: "Yes, the princess is here! Yurand's daughter is here, thou wilt see her at once, my dear fellow." "And thou wilt go to the hunt with us?" With that entered two guests, Knights of the Cross,—Brother Hugo von Danveld, starosta in Ortelsburg, or in Schytno, whose relative had in his time been Marshal; and Siegfried von Löwe, whose family had rendered service in the Order,—he was bailiff of Yansbork. The first was rather young yet, but fat,—he had the face of a crafty beer-guzzler, with moist and thick lips; the other was tall, with stern though noble features.
It seemed to Zbyshko that he had seen Danveld somewhere with Prince Vitold,—that Henry, Bishop of Plotsk, had unhorsed him in a tournament; but this recollection was disturbed by the entrance of Prince Yanush, to whom courtiers and Knights of the Cross made obeisance. De Lorche and the comturs and Zbyshko approached him; he greeted them affably, but with dignity on his beardless, rustic face, surrounded with hair cut evenly on the forehead, but hanging to the shoulders on both sides.
Soon trumpets thundered outside in sign that the prince was ready to take his seat at the table: they thundered once, twice, thrice. The third time the heavy door on the right of the dining-hall opened, and in it appeared Princess Anna, having at her side a marvellous golden-haired maiden with a lute hanging from her shoulder.
Seeing her, Zbyshko pushed forward, and putting his joined hands to his lips, dropped on both knees in a posture full of respect and homage.
At this sight a murmur rose in the hall, for Zbyshko's act had astonished the Mazovians, and some of them were even offended.
