“Ah,” said Kmita, “another one is managing my affections; and though the tenant pays nothing, still I do not think of making a change.”
“So much the better; with all the greater satisfaction can I confide her to you.”
A moment of silence followed.
“Well, will you undertake it?” asked the starosta,
“I am marching with Tartars.”
“People tell me that the Tartars fear you worse than fire. Well, what? Will you undertake it?”
“H’m! why not, if thereby I can oblige your grace? But—”
“Ah, you think that the princess must give permission; she will, as God is dear to me! For she,—fancy to yourself,—she suspects me.”
Here the starosta whispered in Kmita’s ear; at last he said aloud,—
“She was very angry with me for that, and I put my ears aside; for to war with women,—behold you! I would rat
