“Oh, but he would get to know me in time. My voice, my looks, my way of speaking. If he has ever seen me at all, he will know me. He may have my description—do not be trapped by him. The wolf knows the color of the hare he pursues.”
“I told him how you looked——”
“What!” cried Michael. “You told him how I looked and you expect him not to know me?”
“How you looked twenty years ago, my father. And he did not know the difference.”
“That was to blind your eyes to his purpose,” said Michael.
“And I shall blind his,” said Katerin, with sudden resolution. “Wassili! Fetch me the cover of the pillow from the bed! And a knife—with a sharp edge!”
Wassili, with a puzzled look upon his face, turned away to obey her.
“And what is all this?” demanded Michael. “Am I to be wrapped like a mummy and put into a bundle? Am I to be carried about with a rope to my middle like a handle?”
“I shall make sure that the stranger does not recognize you—leave it to me, and we shall outwit this stranger and come to safety.”
“Then you had better take good pains with it,” said Michael, “for if he gives the glimmer of an eye that he so much as thinks I look like myself, I shall kill him!”