“For Pan Michael is a knight, Pan Michael is daring, Pan Michael is a soldier.”
“Krysia, you are my love!”
“Mich—” But Krysia had not courage to finish, and covered her face with her muff.
After a while Pan Michael returned to the house; they did not converse much on the road, but at the gate the little knight asked again, “But after yesterday’s—you understand—were you very sad?”
“Oh, I was ashamed and sad, but had a wonderful feeling,” added she, in a lower voice.
All at once they put on a look of indifference, so that no one might see what had passed between them. But that was a needless precaution, for no one paid heed to them. It is true that Zagloba and Pan Michael’s sister ran out to meet the two couples, but their eyes were turned only on Basia and Pan Adam.
Basia was red, certainly, but it was unknown whether from cold or emotion; and Pan Adam was as if poisoned. Immediately after, too, he took farewell of the lady of the house. In vain did she try to detain him; in vain Pan Michael himself tried to persuade him to remain to supper: he excused himself with service and went away. That moment Pan Michael’s sister, without saying a word, kissed Basia on the forehead; the young lady flew to her own chamber and did not return to supper.
Only on the next day did Zagloba make a direct attack on her and inquire, “Well, little haiduk, a thunderbolt, as it were, struck Pan Adam?”
“Aha!” answered she, nodding affirmatively and blinking.
“Tell me what you said to him.”