Volodyovski grew sad on a sudden, for he remembered the nicknames which Zagloba used to give Anusia. She stood as if living before him there in his mind and memory,—her form, her small face, her dark tresses, her joyfulness, her chattering, and ways of looking. Both these were younger, but still she was a hundred times dearer than all who were younger.
The little knight covered his face with his palms, and sorrow carried him away the more because it was unexpected. Zagloba was astonished; for some time he was silent and looked unquietly, then he asked, “Michael, what is the matter? Speak, for God’s sake!”
Volodyovski spoke, “So many are living, so many are walking through the world, but my lamb is no longer among them; never again shall I see her.” Then pain stifled his voice; he rested his forehead on the arm of the sofa and began to whisper through his set lips, “O God! O God! O God!”
CHAPTER VIII.
Basia insisted that Volodyovski should give her instruction in “fencing;” he did not refuse, though he delayed for some days. He preferred Krysia; still, he liked Basia greatly, so difficult was it, in fact, not to like her.
A certain morning the first lesson began, mainly because of Basia’s boasting and her assurances that she knew that art by no means badly, and that no common person could stand before her. “An old soldier taught me,” said she; “there is no lack of these among us; it is known too that there are no swordsmen superior to ours. It is a question if even you, gentlemen, would not find your equals.”
“Of what are you talking?” asked Zagloba. “We have no equals in the whole world.”
“I should wish it to come out that even I am your equal. I do not expect it, but I should like it.”
“If it were firing from pistols, I too would make a trial,” said Pani Makovetski, laughing.
“As God lives, it must be that the Amazons themselves dwell in Latychov,” said Zagloba. Here he turned to Krysia: “And what weapon do you use best, your ladyship?”