Page:Henryk Sienkiewicz - Potop - The Deluge (1898 translation by Jeremiah Curtin) - Vol 1.djvu/503

Rh "On your great mightiness is a senator's head, that is certain!" exclaimed Jendzian.

"Hei!" retorted Zagloba, rejoiced at the flattery, "and you are not to be imposed on, you rogue ! Soon it will be seen how I'll make you lieutenant, only let there be a vacancy."

"I thank your great mightiness humbly," replied Jendzian.

"This is my plan," continued Zagloba: "first to collect such supplies that we could stand a siege, then to make a fortified camp, and let Radzivill come with Swedes or with devils. I'm a rascal if I do not make a second Zbaraj here!"

"As God is dear to me, a noble idea!" cried Volodyovski; "but where can we get cannon?"

"Pan Kotovski has two howitzers, and Yakub Kmita has one gun for firing salutes; in Byalystok are four eight- pounders which were to be sent to the castle of Tykotsin; for you do not know, gentlemen, that Byalystok was left by Pan Vyesyolovski for the support of Tykotsin Castle, and those cannon were bought the past year with the rent, as Pan Stempalski, the manager here, told me. He said also that there were a hundred charges of powder for each cannon. We'll help ourselves, gracious gentlemen; only support me from your souls, and do not forget the body either, which would be glad to drink something, for it is time now for that."

Volodyovski gave orders to bring drink, and they talked on at the cups.

"You thought that you would have the picture of a commander," continued Zagloba, sipping lightly the old mead. "Never, never ! I did not ask for the favor; but since they adorn me with it, there must be obedience and order. I know what each office means, and see if I am not equal to every one. I'll make a second Zbaraj in this place, nothing but a second Zbaraj! Radzivill will choke himself well; and the Swedes will choke themselves before they swallow me. I hope that Hovanski will try us too; I would bury him in such style that he would not be found at the last judgment. They are not far away, let them try! — Mead, Pan Michael!"

Volodyovski poured out mead. Zagloba drank it at a draught, wrinkled his forehead, and as if thinking of something said, —