"Not knowing which saint's protection to ask for, I made a vow to her."
"You did well!" said the abbot, enthusiastically; "she is better than all the others, if one only dare beseech her!"
In a moment his face became flushed with anger, his cheeks filled with blood, his eyes began to sparkle.
They were so used to his impetuosity, that Zych began to laugh and exclaimed:
"Strike, who believes in God!"
As for the abbot, he puffed loudly, and looked at those present; then laughed suddenly, and having looked at Zbyszko, he asked:
"Is that your nephew and my relation?"
Zbyszko bent and kissed his hand.
"I saw him when he was a small boy; I did not recognize him," said the abbot. "Show yourself!" And he began to look at him from head to foot, and finally said:
"He is too handsome! It is a girl, not a knight!"