"I don't know! The princess says that somebody has thrown a spell over her."
"I am sure it is Lichtenstein! Nobody else,—only Lichtenstein—a dog-brother!"
"It may be he. But what can you do to him? Nothing!"
"That is why they all seemed to have forgotten me here; she was sick."
Having said this, Zbyszko began to walk up and down the room; finally he seized Macko's hand, kissed it, and said:
"May God reward you for everything! If you die, I will be the cause of your death. Before you get any worse, you must do one thing more. Go to the castellan and beg him to release me, on my knightly word, for twelve weeks. After that time I will return, and they may behead me. But it must not be that we both die without vengeance. You know! I will go to Marienburg, and immediately send a challenge to Lichtenstein. It cannot be otherwise. One of us must die!"
Macko began to rub his forehead.
"I will go; but will the castellan permit?"
"I will give my knightly word. For twelve weeks—I do not need more."
"No use to talk; twelve weeks! And if you are wounded, you cannot return; what will they think then?"