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give me plenty to eat and drink, and they did; and wagons, too, for which I was glad; and I was always looking after my poor princess, lest she might give out after such great fatigues and terror. I tell you, gentlemen, that before we arrived at Bar she had recovered to such a degree that there were few people in Bar who didn’t gaze at her. There are many pretty girls in that place, for the nobles have assembled there from distant regions, but in comparison with her they are as owls to a jay. The people admire her, and you would if you could see her.”

“It must be they couldn’t help it,” said little Pan Volodyovski.

“But why did you go to Bar?” asked Migurski.

“Because I said to myself, I will not stop till I come to a safe place. I had no confidence in small castles, thinking that the rebellion might reach them. But if it should go to Bar, it would break its teeth there. Pan Andrei Pototski has built up strong walls, and cares as much for Hmelnitski as I do for an empty glass. Do you think that I did badly in going so far from the conflagration? If I had not, that Bogun would surely have pursued; and if he had caught up, I tell you he would have made tidbits of me for the dogs. You don’t know him, but I do. May the devil fly away with him! I shall have no peace till they hang the man. God grant him that happy end⁠—amen! And surely there is no one with whom he has such an account as with me. Brrr! When I think of it a chill passes over me; so that now I am forced to use stimulants, though by nature I am opposed to drink.”

“What do you say?” interrupted Podbipienta. “Why, my dear brother, you take up liquid like a well-sweep.”

“Don’t look into the well, my dear man, for you will see nothing wise at the bottom. But a truce to this! Travelling then with the baton and manifestoes of Hmelnitski, I met no great hindrances. When I came to Vinnitsa, I found there the troops of Pan Aksak, now present in this camp; but I had not put off my minstrel skin yet, for I feared the peasantry. But I got rid of the manifestoes. There is a saddler there called Suhak, a Zaporojian spy, who was sending intelligence to Hmelnitski. Through this fellow I sent off the manifestoes; but I wrote such sentences on the backs of them that Hmelnitski will surely order the saddler to be flayed when he reads them. But right under the very walls of Bar such a thing happened to me that I came very near being lost at the shore of refuge.”

“How was that? How?”

“I met some drunken soldiers, wild fellows, who heard how I called the princess, ‘Your Ladyship,’ for I was not so careful then, being near our own people. And they began: ‘What sort of minstrel is that? What sort of a lad is it whom he calls “Your Ladyship”?’ Then they looked at the princess, and saw she was as beautiful as a picture. ‘Bring her nearer to us,’ said they. I pushed her behind me into the corner, and to the sabre⁠—”

“That is a wonder,” said Volodyovski⁠—“that you, dressed as a minstrel, had a sabre at your side.”

“That I had a sabre? And who told you that I had a sabre? I had not; but I grabbed a soldier’s sabre that lay on the table⁠—for it was in a public house at Shipintsi, I stretched out two of my assailants in the twinkle of an eye. The others rushed on me. I cried, ‘Stop, you dogs, for I am a noble!’ Next moment they called out, ‘Stop! stop! Scouts are coming!’ It appeared that they were not scouts, but Pani Slavoshevska with an escort, whom her son was conducting, with fifty horsemen⁠—young fellows. These stopped my enemies. I went to the lady with my story, and roused her feelings so that she opened the floodgates of her eyes. She took the princess into her carriage, and we entered Bar. But do you think this is the end? No!”

Suddenly Sleshinski interrupted the narrative. “But, look! is that the dawn? What is it?”

“Oh, it cannot be the dawn,” said Skshetuski. “Too early.”

“It is toward Konstantinoff.”

“Yes. Don’t you see it is brighter?”

“As I live, a fire!”

At these words the faces of all became serious. They forgot the narrative and sprang to their feet.

“Fire! Fire!” repeated several voices.

“That is Krívonos who has come from Polónnoe.”

“Krívonos with all his forces.”

“The advance guard must have set fire to the town or the neighboring villages.”

Meanwhile the trumpets sounded the alarm in low notes. Just then old Zatsvilikhovski appeared suddenly among the knights. “Gentlemen,” said he, “scouts have come with news. The enemy is in sight! We move at once. To your posts! to your posts!”

The officers hurried with all speed to their regiments. The attendants put out the fires, and in a few moments darkness reigned in the camp. But in the distance from the direction of Konstantinoff the heavens reddened each moment more intensely and over a broader space. In this gleam the stars grew paler and paler. Again the trumpets sounded low. “To horse!” was heard through the mouthpiece. Indistinct masses of men and horses began to move. Amid the silence were heard the tramp of horses, the measured step of infantry, and finally the dull thump of Vurtsel’s cannon; from moment to moment the clatter of muskets or the voices of command were heard. There was something threatening and ominous in that night march, in those voices, murmurs, clatter of steel, the gleam of armor and swords. The regiments descended to the Konstantinoff road, and moved over it toward the conflagration like a great dragon or serpent making its way through the darkness. But the luxuriant July night was

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