“Michael,” said she, “it is so cold outside the windows for the soldiers, give command to let them have a keg of gorailka.”
He, being unusually jovial, fell to kissing her hands, and cried,—
“I would not spare blood to please you!”
Then he hurried out himself to tell the soldiers at whose instance they were to have the keg; for he wished them to thank Basia, and love her the more.
In answer, they raised such a shout that the snow began to fall from the roof; the little knight cried in addition, “Let the muskets roar there as a vivat to the Pani!” Upon his return to the room he found Basia dancing with Azya. When the Tartar embraced that sweet figure with his arm, when he felt the warmth coming from her and her breath on his face, his pupils went up almost into his skull, and the whole world turned before his eyes; in his soul he gave up paradise, eternity, and for all the houris he wanted only this one.
Then Basia, when she noticed in passing the crimson jacket of Eva, curious to know if Azya had proposed yet, inquired,—
“Have you told her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It is not time yet,” said he, with a strange expression.