his room he tried to use his sword for pastime, and his success was not bad; the axe proved too heavy, still he thought that by using both hands he could wield it effectively.
At last, two days before Christmas eve, he gave command to make the sleighs ready and saddle the horses, informing the Cheh at the same time that they would go to Tsehanov. The trusty attendant was concerned somewhat, especially as there was a splitting frost, but Zbyshko said to him,—
"Not thy head commands here. There is nothing for us to do in this hunting-lodge, and even should I fall ill, there will be no lack of nursing in Tsehanov. Moreover, I shall not go on horseback, but on runners, up to my neck in hay, and under furs; only at the edge of Tsehanov itself shall I be on horseback."
Thus was it managed. The Cheh had learned already to know his young master, and understood that it would be ill for him to oppose, and still worse not to carry out a command quickly; so they started one hour later. At the moment of parting Zbyshko, seeing Sanderus enter a sleigh with his caskets, said to him,—
"But thou, why fasten to me like some burr to a sheep's fleece? Hast thou not said that thou wert going to Prussia?"
"I said that I wished to go to Prussia, but how could I go there alone in such snow? The wolves would devour me before the first stars came out, and here I have nothing to work at. For me it is more agreeable to edify people in a town by my piety, offer sacred wares, and save men from Satan's snares, as I swore in Rome to the father of all Christendom that I would do. Besides, I have conceived a wonderful affection for your Grace, and will not leave you till I set out for Rome, since it may happen me to render you a service."
"He is always ready, lord, to eat and drink for your sake," said Hlava, "and is most delighted to render such service. But if a great cloud of wolves fall on us in Prasnysh forest, we will throw him out to them at parting, for never will he be better fitted for another thing."
"But look to it that a sinful word does not freeze to your lips," retorted Sanderus; "for such icicles could be thawed only in hell."
"Oh, pshaw!" answered Hlava, reaching with his gloved hand to his mustaches, which had hardly begun to be frosty.
