“I will love you till death,” said Pan Michael.
Further conversation was interrupted by the coming of a new guest. The soldiers, occupied with Volodyovski, had not heard the arrival of that guest, and saw him only when he was standing in the door. He was a man enormous in stature, of majestic form and bearing. He had the face of a Roman emperor; in it was power, and at the same time the true kindness and courtesy of a monarch. He differed entirely from all those soldiers around him; he grew notably greater in face of them, as if the eagle, king of birds, had appeared among hawks, falcons, and merlins.
“The grand hetman!” cried Ketling, and sprang up, as the host, to greet him.
“Pan Sobieski!” cried others.
All heads were inclined in an obeisance of deep homage. All save Pan Michael kne
