The whole morning she had been occupied with watching and taking care of the sick woman, so that it was late when she could go to her prayers. Barely had she said the last “Amen,” when there was a thundering before the gate, and Olenka rushed into the room like a storm.
“Jesus! Mary! What has happened?” screamed Anusia, looking at her.
“Anusia, you do not know who Pan Babinich is? He is Pan Kmita!”
Anusia sprang to her feet: “Who told you?”
“The king’s letter was read—Pan Volodyovski brought it—the Lauda men—”
“Has Pan Volodyovski returned?” screamed Anusia; and she threw herself into Olenka’s arms.
Olenka took this outburst of feeling as a proof of Anusia’s love for her; for she had become feverish, was almost unconscious. On her face were fiery spots, and her breast rose and fell as if from great pain.
Then Olenka began to tell without order and in a broken voice everything which she had heard in the church, running at the same time through the room as if demented, repeating every moment, “I am not worthy of him!” reproaching herself terribly, saying that she had done him more injustice than all others, that she had not even been willing to pray for him, when he was swimming in his own blood in defence of the Holy Lady, the country, and the king.
In vain did Anusia, while running after her through the room, endeavor to comfort her. She repeated continually one thing,—that she was not worthy of him, that she would not dare to look in his eyes; then again she would begin to speak of the deeds of Babinich, of the seizure of Boguslav, of his revenge, of saving the king, of Prostki, Volmontovichi, and Chenstohova; and at last of her own faults, of her stubbornness, for which she must do penance in the cloister.
Further reproaches were interrupted by Pan Tomash, who, falling into the room like a bomb, cried,—