"Thou art bleeding!" said he.
"That is nothing!"
"Glory to God if 'tis nothing! But I have had plenty, and here is my hand for you. You have acted like a genuine cavalier."
Stanislav greatly roused, but pleased also at these words, stood for a moment, as if undecided whether to make peace or fight longer. At last he sheathed his sabre and gave his hand then to Yatsek.
"Let it be so. In truth, as it seems, I am bleeding."
He touched his chin with his left hand and looked at the blood with much wonder. It had colored his palm and his fingers abundantly.
"Hold snow on the wound to keep it from swelling," said Yatsek, "and go to the sleigh now."
So speaking he took Stanislav by the arm and conducted him to the Bukoyemskis, who looked at him silently, somewhat astonished, but also confounded. Yatsek roused real respect in them, not only as a master with the sabre, but as a man of "lofty manners," such manners precisely as they themselves needed.
So after a while this inquiry was made of Stanislav by Mateush,--
"How is it with thee, O Stashko?"