Ketling embraced Zagloba, who became really tender, and straightway gave command to bring the decanter, saying, “We will drink one like this every day on the occasion of your departure.”
And they drank. Then Ketling bade him good-by and went out. Immediately the wine roused fancy in Zagloba; he began to meditate about Basia, Krysia, Pan Michael, and Ketling, began to unite them in couples, to bless them; at last he wished to see the young ladies, and said, “Well, I will go and see those kids.”
The young ladies were sitting in the room beyond the entrance, and sewing. Zagloba, after he had greeted them, walked through the room, dragging his feet a little; for they did not serve him as formerly, especially after wine. While walking, he looked at the maidens, who were sitting closely, one near the other, so that the bright head of Basia almost touched the dark one of Krysia. Basia followed him with her eyes; but Krysia was sewing so diligently that it was barely possible to catch the glitter of her needle with the eye.
“H’m!” said Zagloba.
“H’m!” repeated Basia.
“Don’t mock me, for I am angry.”
“He’ll be sure to cut my head off!” cried Basia, feigning terror.
“Strike! strike! I’ll cut your tongue out,—that’s what I’ll do!”
Saying this, Zagloba approached the young ladies, and putting his hands on his hips, asked without any preliminary, “Do you want Ketling as husband?”
“Yes; five like him!” said Basia, quickly.