Page:Sienkiewicz - The knights of the cross.djvu/554

116 "God gave me one," said Zbyshko. "A rich knight, and distinguished, though a layman—he is a foreigner."

The terrible commander put his hands at both sides of his neck, then made a gesture, as if pointing upward, and indicated a rope going from his neck in that direction.

"It will be thus for him," said he, "as well as for the others—this way!"

Zbyshko frowned.

"Hear me, Skirvoillo," said he. "It will not be that way for him, or any way like that; he is my friend and captive. Prince Yanush belted us at the same time, and I will not let thee lay a finger on him."

"Thou wilt not?"

"I will not."

And they looked each into the eyes of the other, frowning, wherewith Skirvoillo's face contracted and resembled the head of a bird of prey. It seemed that both might burst out in passion; but Zbyshko, unwilling to quarrel with the old leader, whose virtue he knew, and whom he respected, and having moreover a heart that was quivering from the events of the day, seized him by the shoulders suddenly, pressed him to his bosom, and asked,—

"Can it be possible that thou wouldst take him from me, and with him my last hope? Why do me an injustice?"

Skirvoillo did not ward off the embrace, and at last, sticking his head forth from between Zbyshko's arms, he looked at him from under his eyebrows, and panted.

"Well," said he, after a moment of silence, "to-morrow I shall give command to hang my captives, but if thou need one, I will give him."

Then they embraced a second time and parted in good feeling, to the great delight of Matsko, who said,—

"It is evident that with him thou canst effect nothing through harshness, but by kindness thou mayst mould him as wax."

"That is the nature of the people," answered Zbyshko; "but the Germans do not know it."

Then he gave command to bring to the fire De Lorche, who was resting in the hut; Hlava soon brought him, without his weapons, without his helmet, but in a skin coat, on which his armor had left traces, and with a red cap on his head. De Lorche had learned from Hlava whose prisoner he was; but for that very reason he came cold, haughty,