"Who goes there ?" shouted several voices, and Taras beheld a number of warriors in full armour.

"We have been ordered to admit no one." "It is we!" cried Yankel; "we, by heavens, noble sirs!" But no one would listen to him.

Fortunately, at that moment a fat man came up, who appeared to be a commanding officer, for he swore louder than all the others.
"My lord, it is we! you know us, and the lord count will thank you." "Admit them, a hundred fiends, and mother of fiends! Admit no one else.
And no one is to draw his sword, nor quarrel." The conclusion of this order the visitors did not hear.

"It is we, it is I, it is your friends!" Yankel said to every one they met.
"Well, can it be managed now ?" he inquired of one of the guards, when they at length reached the end of the corridor.
"It is possible, but I don't know whether you will be able to gain admission to the prison itself.

Yana is not here now; another man is keeping watch in his place," replied the guard.
"Ai, ai!" cried the Jew softly: "this is bad, my dear lord!" "Go on!" said Taras, firmly, and the Jew obeyed.
At the arched entrance of the vaults stood a heyduke, with a moustache trimmed in three layers: the upper layer was trained backwards, the second straight forward, and the third downwards, which made him greatly resemble a cat.
The Jew shrank into nothing and approached him almost sideways: "Your high excellency! High and illustrious lord!" "Are you speaking to me, Jew ?" "To you, illustrious lord." "Hm, but I am merely a heyduke," said the merry-eyed man with the triple-tiered moustache.
"And I thought it was the Waiwode himself, by heavens! Ai, ai, ai!" Thereupon the Jew twisted his head about and spread out his fingers.
"Ai, what a fine figure! Another finger's-breadth and he would be a colonel.