CHAPTER XXIII.

LATE in the evening the army arrived in Rozlogi by
moonlight. There they found Pan Yan sitting on his
Calvary. The knight, as is known, had lost his senses
altogether from pain and torment; and when the priest
Mukhovetski brought him to his mind, the officers bore
him away and began to greet and comfort him, especially
Pan Longin Podbipienta, who for three months past had
been a popular officer in Skshetuski's regiment. Pan Longin
was ready also to be his companion in sighing and weeping,
and for his benefit made a new vow at once, that he would
fast every Tuesday of his life, if God would in any way
send solace to the lieutenant.

Skshetuski was conducted straightway to Vishnyevetski
at a peasant's cottage. When the prince saw his favorite
he said not a word; he only opened his arms to him and
waited. Skshetuski threw himself into those arms with loud
weeping. Yeremi pressed him to his bosom and kissed him
on the forehead, and the officers present saw the tears in his
worthy eyes. After a while he began to speak,--

"I greet you as a son, for I thought I should never see
you again. Bear your burden manfully, and remember that
you will have thousands of comrades in misfortune who
will leave wives, children, parents, and friends; and as a
drop of water is lost in an ocean, so let your suffering sink
in the sea of universal pain. When such terrible times
have come on our dear country, whoever is a man and has a
sword at his side will not yield himself to weeping over his
own loss, but will hasten to the rescue of the common mother,
and either find relief in his conscience or lie down in a
glorious death, receive a heavenly crown, and with it eter-
nal happiness."

"Amen!" said the priest Mukhovetski.

"Oh, I should rather see her dead!" groaned the knight.

"Weep, then, for great is your loss, and we will weep
with you; for you have come not to Pagans, wild Scythians,
or Tartars, but to brothers and loving comrades. Say to
yourself, 'To-day I will weep over myself, but to-morrow