By this time the smaller room really had some warmth in it, in spite of the empty window frames; and the sack of straw was a most luxurious couch in Dora's eyes.
"What a splendid bed, Talabor!" said she, gratefully; "but before I lie down, one question—it sounds a very earthly one, though you have been an angel to me but—have we anything to eat? I am shamefully hungry!"
"To be sure we have!" said Talabor, opening his knapsack, and producing a piece of venison baked on the bare coals. "All we want is salt and bread, and something to drink, but there is plenty of snow!"
"Let us be thankful for what God gives us! Our good home-made bread! what a long time it is since we tasted it!"
"We shall again in time!" said Talabor confidently, as he handed Dora the one knife and the cold meat.
"Talabor," said Dora presently, "I am afraid we have come far out of our way."
"I am afraid so too," he answered, "but I don't think we could help it. There has been little to guide us but burnt villages and ruined church-towers. And then, when we have come upon recent traces of the Tartars, we have had to take any way we could, and sometimes to turn back and hide in the forest for safety. How far south we have come I can hardly guess, but we are too much to the east, I fancy."
"You have saved me at all events, over and over again: from wild beasts by night, from horrible men by day, from fire, smoke, everything! I shall tell my father what a good, faithful Talabor you have been! And now I am really not very sleepy, and I should so like to see you rest—you know you are my only protector now in all the wide world, and you must take care of yourself for me!"
"You must have just a little more rest yourself first, dear mistress, and then I will have a sleep."
"You promise faithfully? Then shake hands upon it, for you have deceived me before now, you bad fellow!"