The hetman himself took a seat at Kmita’s bedside. About midday Pan Andrei opened his eyes.
“Where is Boguslav?” were his first words.
“Cut to pieces. God gave him fortune at first; then he came out of the birch groves and in the open field fell on the infantry of Pan Oskyerko; there he lost men and victory. I do not know whether he led away even five hundred men, for your Tartars caught a good number of them.”
“But he himself?”
“Escaped!”
Kmita was silent awhile; then said;—
“I cannot measure with him yet. He struck me with a double-handed sword on the head, and knocked me down with my horse. My morion was of trusty steel, and did not let the sword through; but I fainted.”
“You should hang up that morion in a church.”
“I will pursue him, even to the end of the world!” said Kmita.
