“No; let your grace remain with the ladies. If Ketling is alive, I will let you know.”
“For God’s sake! We are living in the house of that man!” said Makovetski. “We must find an inn somehow to-morrow, or even pitch tents in the field, only not to live longer here.”
“Wait for news from me, or we shall lose each other,” said Zagloba. “If Ketling is killed—”
“Speak more quietly, by Christ’s wounds!” said Pani Makovetski, “for the servants will hear and tell Krysia; she is barely alive as it is.”
“I will go to her,” said Basia.
And she sprang upstairs. Those below remained in anxiety and fear. No one slept in the whole house. The thought that maybe Ketling was already a corpse filled their hearts with terror. In addition, the night became close, dark; thunder began to roar and roll throu
