Midnight began to beat slowly on the great Dantzig clock standing in the hall.
“For God’s sake! ’tis time, ’tis time!” cried Kmita. “I may not stay longer. Do you love me, even as much as would go around your finger?”
“I will answer another time. You will visit me, of course?”
“Every day, even if the ground should open under me! May I be slain!”
Kmita rose, and both went to the antechamber. The sleigh was already waiting before the porch; so he enrobed himself in the shuba, and began to take farewell, begging her to return to the chamber, for the cold was flying in from the porch.
“Good-night, my dear queen,” said he, “sleep sweetly, for surely I shall not close an eye thinking of your beauty.”
“May you see nothing bad! But better, I’ll give you a man with a light, for there is no lack of wolves near Volmontovichi.”
“And am I a lamb to fear wolves? A wolf is a friend to a soldier, for often has he profit from his hand. We have also firearms in the sleigh. Good-night, dearest, good-night.”
“With God.”
Olenka withdrew, and Pan Kmita went to the porch. But on the way, through the slightly open door of the servants’ hall he saw a number of pairs of eyes of maidens who waiting to see him once more had not yet lain down to sleep. To them Pan Andrei sent, soldier-fashion, kisses from his mouth with his hand, and went out. After a while the bell began to jingle, at first loudly, then with a continually decreasing sound, ever fainter and fainter, till at last it was silent.