gaining presence of mind, he inquired in a loud voice, "What do you say?"
"We say good-night to you," said Basia.
"Ah! I know now we were talking of love. What was the conclusion?"
"The lining was better than the cloak."
"There is no use in denying that I was drowsy; but this loving, weeping, sighing—Ah, I have found another rhyme for it,—namely, sleeping,—and at this time the best, for the hour is advanced. Good-night to the whole company, and give us peace with your love. O my God, my God, while the cat is miauwing, she will not eat the cheese; but until she eats, her mouth is watering. In my day I resembled Ketling as one cup does another; and I was in love so madly that a ram might have pounded my back for an hour before I should have known it. But in old age I prefer to rest well, especially when a polite host not only conducts me to bed, but gives me a drink on the pillow."
"I am at the service of your grace," said Ketling.
"Let us go; let us go! See how high the moon is already. It will be fine to-morrow; it is glittering and clear as in the day. Ketling is ready to talk about love with you all night; but remember, kids, that he is road-weary."
"Not road-weary, for I have rested two days in the city. I am only afraid that the ladies are not used to night-watching."
"The night would pass quickly in listening to you," said Krysia.
Then they parted, for it was really late. The young ladies slept in the same room and usually talked long before sleeping; but this evening Basia could not understand Krysia, for as much as the first had a wish to speak, so much was the second silent and answered in half-words. A number of times too, when Basia, in speaking of Ketling, caught at an idea, laughing somewhat at him and mimicking him a little, Krysia embraced her with great tenderness, begging her to leave off that nonsense.
"He is host here, Basia," said she; "we are living under his roof; and I saw that he fell in love with you at once."
"Whence do you know that?" inquired Basia.
"Who does not love you? All love you, and I very much." Thus speaking, she put her beautiful face to Basia's face, nestled up to her, and kissed her eyes.
They went at last to their beds, but Krysia could not sleep for a long time. Disquiet had seized her. At times her heart beat with such force that she brought both hands to her satin bosom to restrain the throbbing. At times too, especially when she tried to close her eyes, it seemed to her that some head, beautiful as a dream, bent over her, and a low voice whispered into her ear,—
"I would rather have thee than a kingdom, than a sceptre, than health, than long life!"
CHAPTER XIII.
A few days later Zagloba wrote a letter to Pan Yan with the following conclusion, "If I do not go home before election, be not astonished. This will not happen through my lack of good wishes for you; but as the Devil does not sleep, I do not wish that instead of a bird something useless should remain in my hand. It will come out badly if when Michael returns, I shall not be able to say to him, 'That one is engaged, and the haiduk is free.' Everything is in the power of God; but this is my thought, that it will not be necessary then to urge Michael, nor to make long preparations, and that you will come when the engagement is made. Meanwhile, remembering Ulysses, I shall be forced to use stratagems and exaggerate more than once, which for me is not easy, since all my life I have preferred truth to every delight, and was glad to be nourished by it. Still, for Michael and the haiduk I will take this on my head, for they are pure gold. Now I embrace you both with the boys, and press you to my heart, commending you to the Most High God."
When he had finished writing, Zagloba sprinkled sand on the paper; then he struck it with his hand, read it once more, holding it at a distance from his eyes; then he folded it, took his seal ring from his finger, moistened it, and prepared to seal the letter, at which occupation Ketling found him.
"A good day to your grace!"
"Good-day, good-day!" said Zagloba. "The weather, thanks be to God, is excellent, and I am just sending a messenger to Pan Yan."
"Send an obeisance from me."
"I have done so already. I said at once to myself, 'It is necessary to send a greeting from Ketling. Both of them will be glad to receive good news.' It is evident that I have sent a greeting from you, since I have written a whole epistle touching you and the young ladies."
"How is that?" inquired Ketling.
Zagloba placed his palms on his knees, which he began to tap with his fingers; then he bent his head, and looking from under his brows at Ketling, said, "My Ketling, it is not necessary to be a prophet to know that where flint and steel are, sparks will flash sooner or later. You are a beauty above beauties, and even you would not find fault with the young ladies."
Ketling was really confused, "I should have to be wall-eyed or be a wild barbarian altogether," said he, "if I did not see their beauty, and do homage to it."
"But, you see," continued Zagloba, looking with a smile on the blushing face of Ketling, "if you are not a barbarian, it is not right for you to have both in view, for only Turks act like that."
"How can you suppose—"
"I do not suppose; I only say it to myself. Ha! traitor! you have so talked to them of love that pallor is on Krysia's lips this third day. It is no wonder; you are a beauty. When I was young myself, I used to stand in the frost under the window of a certain black brow; she was like Panna Krysia; and I remember how I used to sing,—
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