She leaned on the saddle, seized the abbot's hand and lifted it to her mouth:
"Godfather, could you not send your shpilmen to Krzesnia?"
"What for? They will get drunk in the inn—that's all."
"But they may prevent a quarrel."
The abbot looked into her eyes and then said sharply:
"Let them even kill him."
"Then they must kill me also!" exclaimed Jagienka.
The bitterness which had accumulated in her bosom since that conversation about Danusia with Zbyszko, mingled with grief, now gushed forth in a stream of tears. Seeing this, the abbot encircled her with his arm, almost covering her with his enormous sleeve, and began to talk:
"Do not be afraid, my dear little girl. They may quarrel, but the other boys are noblemen; they will attack him only in a chivalrous manner; they will call him up on the field, and then he can manage for himself, even if he be obliged to fight with both of them at once. As for Jurandowna, about whom you have heard, I will tell you this: there is no wood growing for a bed for the other girl."
"If he prefers the other girl, then I do not care about him," answered
Jagienka, through her tears.