“The question was quick, for he is daring; but so was the answer, for I too am daring. Is it not true?”
“You acted splendidly! Let me embrace you! What did he say? Did he let himself be beaten off easily?”
“He asked if with time he could not effect something. I was sorry for him, but no, no; nothing can come of that!”
Here Basia, distending her nostrils, began to shake her forelock somewhat sadly, as if in thought.
“Tell me your reasons,” said Zagloba.
“He too wanted them, but it was of no use; I did not tell him, and I will tell no man.”
“But perhaps,” said Zagloba, looking quickly into her eyes, “you bear some hidden love in your heart. Hei?”
“A fig for love!” cried Basia. And springing from the place, she began to repeat quickly, as if wishing to cover her confusion, “I do not want Pan Adam! I do not want Pan Adam! I do not want any one! Why do you plague me? Why do you plague me, all of you?” And on a sudden she burst into tears.
Zagloba comforted her as best he could, but during the whole day she was gloomy and peevish. “Michael,” said he at dinner, “you are going, and Ketling will come soon; he is a beauty above beauties. I know not how these young ladies will defend themselves, but I think this, when you come back, you will find them both dead in love.”
“Profit for us!” said Volodyovski. “We’ll give him Panna Basia at once.”