Meanwhile Basia was all on fire, that history of Mellehovich occupied her so much; but she was anxious that the end should be worthy of the beginning; therefore, shaking Eva Novoveski, she whispered in her ear, “But you loved him, Eva? Own up; don’t deny! You loved him. You love him yet, do you not? I am sure you do. Be outspoken with me. In whom can you confide, if not in me, a woman? There is almost royal blood in him. The hetman will get him, not one, but ten naturalizations. Pan Novoveski will not oppose. Undoubtedly Azya himself loves you yet. I know already; I know, I know. Never fear. He has confidence in me. I will put the question to him at once. He will tell me without torture. You loved him terribly; you love him yet, do you not?”
Eva was as if dazed. When Azya showed his inclination to her the first time, she was almost a child; after that she did not see him for a number of years, and had ceased to think of him. There remained with her the remembrance of him as a passionate stripling, who was half comrade to her brother, and half serving-lad. But now she saw him again; he stood before her a handsome hero and fierce as a falcon, a famous warrior, and, besides, the son of a foreign, it is true, but princely, stock. Therefore young Azya seemed to her altogether different; therefore the sight of him stunned her, and at the time dazzled and charmed her. Memories of him appeared before her as in a dream. Her heart could not love the young man in one moment, but in one moment she felt in it an agreeable readiness to love him.
Basia, unable to question her to the end, took her, with Zosia Boski, to an alcove, and began again to insist, “Eva, tell me quickly, awfully quickly, do you love him?”
A flame beat into the face of Eva. She was a dark-haired and dark-eyed maiden, with hot blood; and that blood flew to her cheeks at any mention of love.
“Eva,” repeated Basia, for the tenth time, “do you love him?”
“I do not know,” answered Eva, after a moment’s hesitation.
“But you don’t deny? Oho! I know. Do not hesitate. I told Michael first that I loved him,—no harm! and it was well. You must have loved each other terribly this long time. Ha! I understand now. It is from yearning for you that he has always been so gloomy; he went around like a wolf. The poor soldier withered away almost. What passed between you? Tell me.”
“He told me in the storehouse that he loved me,” whispered Eva.
“In the storehouse! What then?”
“Then he caught me and began to kiss me,” continued she, in a still lower voice.