Doctor.—A strange thing. He was such a good marksman.
Jan.—He permitted himself to be killed. I saw that very plainly. He did not fire at Drahomir at all. He did not wish to kill Drahomir. Six steps—it was too near. It was dreadful to look at his death. Truly, I would have preferred to be killed myself. They had to fire on command—one! two! three! We heard the shot, but only one. We rushed—Pretwic advanced two steps, knelt and tried to speak. The blood flowed from his mouth. Then he took up the pistol and fired to one side. We were around him and he said to Drahomir: "You have done me a favor and I thank you. This life belonged to you, because you saved it. Forgive me," he said, "brother!" Then he said: "Give me your hand" and expired. (He wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.) Drahomir threw himself on his breast—it was dreadful. Poor Princess Stella. What will become of her now?
Doctor.—For God's sake, not a word in her presence. She is ill.
Jan.—I will be silent.
Doctor.—You must control your emotion.
Jan.—I cannot. My knees are trembling.
SCENE VII.
The same. The prince leaning on Stella's shoulder, and Mrs. Czeska.
Prince.—I thought Pretwic was with you. Jozwowicz, where is Pretwic?
Doctor.—I do not know.