The father and Eva laughed at such readiness.
“Love is like death,” said Pan Adam: “it misses no one. I was still smooth-faced, and Pani Volodyovski was a young lady, when I fell terribly in love with her. Oi! dear God! how I loved that Basia! But what of it! ‘I will tell her so,’ thought I. I told her, and the answer was as if some one had given me a slap in the face. Shu, cat away from the milk! She was in love with Pan Volodyovski, it seems, already; but what is the use in talking?—she was right.”
“Why?” asked old Pan Novoveski.
“Why? This is why: because I, without boasting, could meet every one else with the sabre; but he would not amuse himself with me while you could say ‘Our Father’ twice. And besides he is a partisan beyond compare, before whom Rushchyts himself would take off his cap. What, Pan Rushchyts? Even the Tartars love him. He is the greatest soldier in the Commonwealth.”
“And how he and his wife love each other! Ai, ai! enough to make your eyes ache to look at them,” put in Eva.
“Ai, your mouth waters! Your mouth waters, for your time has come too,” exclaimed Pan Adam. And putting his hands on his hips he began to nod his head, as a horse does; but she answered modestly,—
“I have no thought of it.”
“Well, there is no lack of officers and pleasant company here.”
“But,” said Eva, “I do not know whether father has told you that Azya is here.”
“Azya Mellehovich, the Lithuanian Tartar? I know him; he is a good soldier.”