After which Laskowicz again spoke in a gloomy voice:
"There is now no help for me. I will deliver these flowers and go wherever my eyes will take me."
But in the heart of the girl suddenly there awoke a great pity for him. Before that she was indifferent to him. At present she only saw in him a Polish student hunted, like a mad dog, by people whom she of old despised.
Therefore on her energetic and obstinate countenance, inflexible determination was depicted.
"Come what may, I will not desert you," she said, knitting her dark brows.
Laskowicz was suddenly seized with a desire to kiss her hand and would have done so if they were not on the street. He was moved not only by the hope of escape, but also by the fact that this girl, who hardly knew him, who did not belong to his camp, was ready to expose herself to the greatest dangers in order to come to his aid.
"What can the little lady do? Where will she hide me?" he asked quietly.
But she walked on with brows knitted by the strain of continuous thinking, and finally said:
"I know. Let us go."
He shifted the flower-pot to the left hand. "I must tell you," he said with lowered voice, "that the least punishment for concealing me is Siberia. I must tell you that! And I might cause your destruction, but in the first moments--the little lady understands--the instinct of preservation--there was no time for reflection."