“Leave me even hope! Do you hear me?”
“I cannot! I cannot!” answered Krysia.
Pan Michael went to the window and pressed his head against the cold glass. He stood a long time without motion; at last he turned, and advancing a couple of steps toward Krysia, he said in a very low voice,—
“Farewell! There is nothing for me here. Oh that it may be as pleasant for you as it is grievous for me! Know this, that I forgive you with my lips, and as God will grant, I will forgive you with my heart as well. But have more mercy on people’s suffering, and a second time promise not. It cannot be said that I take happiness with me from these thresholds! Farewell!”
When Pan Michael had said this, his mustaches quivered; he bowed, and went out. In the next room were Makovetski and his wife and Zagloba; they sprang up at once as if to inquire, but he only waved his hand. “All to no use!” said he. “Leave me in peace!”
From that room a narrow corridor led to his own chamber; in that corridor, at the staircase leading to the young ladies’ rooms, Basia stopped the way to the little knight. “May God console you and change Krysia’s heart!” cried she, with a voice trembling from tears.
He went past without even looking at her, or saying a word. Suddenly wild anger bore him away; bitterness rose in his breast; he turned, therefore, and stood before the innocent Basia with a face changed and full of derision. “Promise your hand to Ketling,” said he, hoarsely, “then cease to love him, trample on his heart, rend it, and go to the cloister!”
“Pan Michael!” cried Basia, in amazement.
“Enjoy yourself, taste kisses, and then go to repent! Would to God that you both were killed!”
That was too much for Basia. God alone knew how much she had wrestled with herself for this wish which she had given Pan Michael,—that God might change Krysia’s heart,—and in return an unjust condemnation had met her, derision, insult, just at the moment in which she would have given her blood to comfort the thankless man. Therefore her soul stormed up in her as quickly as a flame; her cheeks burned; her nostrils dilated; and without an instant’s thought, she cried, shaking her yellow hair,—