"Then at least we will love one another. No one in this world loves us! No one!"
"No one! no one!" repeated they all in succession, mingling their wine with their tears as they said so.
"But she is sleeping up there!" added Yan on a sudden.
"She is sleeping, the poor little thing," responded Lukash; "she is lying down like a flower cut by the scythe, like a lamb torn by a villainous wolf. My born brothers! is there no man here who will take even a pull at the wild beast?"
"It cannot be but there is!" cried out Mateush, Marek, and Yan. And again they grew indignant, and the more they drank the oftener they gritted their teeth, first one, then another, or one of them struck his fist on the table.
"I have an idea!" said the youngest on a sudden.
"Tell it! Have God in thy heart!"
"Here it is. We have promised Pan Serafin not to cut up that 'stump.' Have we not promised?"
"We have, but tell what thou hast to say; ask no questions."
"Though we have promised we must take revenge for our young lady. Old Krepetski will come here, as they said, to see if Pan Serafin will not give back the young lady. But we know that he will not give her, do we not?"