“Don’t be frightened, gracious lady. The sun has not yet set; and even if it were night, Saint Ptolomeus will manage Walgierz.”
In the meanwhile, the unknown horseman, having mounted the top of the hill, stopped his horse and stood motionless. In the rays of the setting sun, one could see him very distinctly; his stature seemed greater than ordinary human dimensions. The space separating him from the princess’ retinue was not more than three hundred steps.
“Why is he stopping?” asked one of the rybalts.
“Because we stopped,” answered Macko.
“He is looking toward us as if he would like to choose somebody,” said another rybalt; “if I were sure he was a man and not an evil spirit, I would go and give him a blow on the head with the lute.”
The women began to pray aloud, but Zbyszko wishin
