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region the only help is in stratagem. To Kamenyets he might go with a small squadron perhaps; but in Ushitsi and Mogileff Cossacks are surely stationed, for there are good winter quarters in those places, and in Yampol, where their nest is, it is necessary to go either with a division or alone.”

“And how do you know that he went specially in that direction?” asked Volodyovski.

“Because she is secreted beyond Yampol, and he knows it; but there are ravines, hollows, and reeds there so numerous that even for one knowing the place well, it is difficult to find the way, and what would it be for one not knowing? I used to go for horses to Yagorlik, and to lawsuits. I know all about the place. If we were together, perhaps we could succeed; but for him alone⁠—I have doubts. I have doubts, unless some chance indicates the road to him, for he will not be able to make inquiries.”

“Then did you wish to go with him?”

“Yes. But what shall we do now, Pan Michael? Follow him or not?”

“I rely on your prudence.”

“H’m! He went ten days ago⁠—we cannot come up with him; and besides he asked us to wait here. God knows too what road he took. Maybe through Ploskiroff and Bar along the old highway, and maybe through Kamenyets Podolsk. It is a hard question.”

“Remember, besides,” said Vershul, “that these are only suppositions. You are not sure that he went after the princess.”

“That’s it, that’s it!” said Zagloba. “Perhaps he went merely to get informants somewhere, and then return to Zbaraj; for he knows that we were to go with him, and that he might expect us at this time, since it is the most favorable. This is a difficult question to settle.”

“I should advise you to wait about ten days,” said Vershul.

“Ten days are nothing; we should either wait or not wait at all.”

“I think we should not wait; for what shall we lose if we move at once? If Skshetuski does not find the princess, God may favor us,” said Volodyovski.

“You see, Pan Michael, we must not overlook anything in this case. You are still young and want adventures,” said Zagloba; “but here is this danger: if he is looking for her by himself, and we look for her by ourselves, some suspicion will be easily roused in the people there. The Cossacks are cunning, and afraid that someone may find out their plans. They may have a secret understanding with the Pasha of the boundary near Khotím, or with the Tartars beyond the Dniester about a future war⁠—who knows? They will be watchful of strangers, particularly of strangers inquiring the way. I know them. It is easy to betray yourself, and then what?”

“The greater the reason to go. Skshetuski may fall into some difficulty where help would be required.”

“That is true too.”

Zagloba fell into such deep thought that his temples quivered; at last he roused himself, and said: “Taking everything into consideration, it will be necessary to go.”

Volodyovski drew a deep breath with satisfaction. “And when?”

“When we have rested about three days, so that body and soul may be fresh.”

Next day the two friends began to make preparations for the road, when unexpectedly on the eve of their journey Tsiga, a young Cossack, Skshetuski’s attendant, arrived with news and letters for Vershul. Hearing of this, Zagloba and Volodyovski hurried to the quarters of the commandant, and read the following:⁠—

“I am in Kamenyets, to which the road through Satanoff is safe. I am going to Yampol with Armenian merchants whom Pan Bukovski found for me. They have Tartar and Cossack passes for a free journey to Akerman. We shall go through Ushitsi, Mogileff, and Yampol with silk stuffs, stopping at all places along the road wherever there are living people. God may aid me in finding what I seek. Tell my comrades, Volodyovski and Zagloba, to wait for me in Zbaraj if they have nothing else to do; for by this road which I travel it would be impossible to go in a larger company by reason of deep distrust in the minds of Cossacks who winter in Yampol on the Dniester as far as Yagorlik, where they keep their horses in the snow. What I cannot do alone we three could not do, and I can pass more readily for an Armenian. Thank them, Pan Kryshtof, from the heart’s soul for their resolution, which I shall not forget while I live; but I was not able to wait, since every day was a torment to me, and I could not know whether they would come, and it is the best time now to go when all the merchants are travelling with goods. I send back my trusty attendant whom you will care for, as I have no need of him; but I am afraid of his youth, lest he might say something somewhere. Pan Bukovski vouches for these merchants; says they are honest, and I think they are, believing as I do that everything is in the hands of the high God, who if he wishes will show his mercy to us, and shorten our sufferings.”

Zagloba finished the letter, and looked at his comrades; but they were silent, till at length Vershul said⁠—

“I knew he went there.”

“And what are we to do?” asked Volodyovski.

“What?” said Zagloba, opening his arms, “We have nothing to go for. It is well that he is with merchants, for he can look in everywhere, and no one will wonder. In every country-house there is something to be bought, for half the Commonwealth has been plundered. It would be difficult for us, Pan Michael, to go beyond Yampol. Skshetuski is as black as a Wallachian, and can pass easily for an Armenian, but they would know you at once by your little oat-colored mustaches. In peasant disguise it would be equally difficult. There is no use for us there, I must confess, though I am sorry that we shall not

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