“Michael is thinking of nothing yet; and even if he were, Krysia has struck his eye more. Ah! God, whose ways are inscrutable, will decide this.”
“But if that bare-lipped youngster goes away with a water-melon,[12] I shall be drunk with delight,” added Zagloba.
Meanwhile in the two sleighs the fates of both knights were in the balance. Pan Michael was unable to utter a word for a long time; at last he said to Krysia, “Do not think that I am a frivolous man, or some kind of fop, for not such are my years.”
Krysia made no answer.
“Forgive me for what I did yesterday, for it was from the good feeling which I have for you, which is so great that I was altogether unable to restrain it. My gracious lady, my beloved Krysia, consider who I am; I am a simple soldier, whose life has been passed in wars. Another would have prepared an oration beforehand, and then come to confidence; I have begun with confidence. Remember this also, that if a horse, though trained, takes the bit in his teeth and runs away with a man, why should not love, whose force is greater, run away with him? Love carried me away, simply because you are dear to me. My beloved Krysia, you are worthy of castellans and senators; but if you do not disdain a soldier, who, though in simple rank, has served the country not without some glory, I fall at your feet, I kiss your feet, and I ask, do you wish me? Can you think of me without repulsion?”
“Pan Michael!” answered Krysia. And her hand, drawn from her muff, hid itself in the hand of the knight.
“Do you consent?” asked Volodyovski.
“I do!” answered Krysia; “and I know that I could not find a more honorable man in all Poland.”
“God reward you! God reward you, Krysia!” said the knight, covering the hand with kisses. “A greater happiness could not meet me. Only tell me that you are not angry at yesterday’s confidence, so that I may find relief of conscience.”
“I am not angry.”