Zagloba, returning, examined her carefully, and said,--
"God save me! more than one knight would willingly lay aside his armor if he only had such an attendant as you; and I know one hussar who would certainly. But we must do something with that hair. I saw handsome boys in Stamboul, but never one so handsome as you are."
"God grant my beauty may work no ill for me!" said Helena. But she smiled; for her woman's ear was tickled by Zagloba's praise.
"Beauty never turns out ill, and I will give you an example of this; for when the Turks in Galáts burned out one of my eyes, and wanted to burn out the other, the wife of the Pasha saved me on account of my extraordinary beauty, the remnants of which you may see even yet."
"But you said that the Wallachians burned your eye out."
"They were Wallachians, but had become Turks, and were serving the Pasha in Galáts."
"They didn't burn even one of your eyes out."
"But from the heated iron a cataract grew on it. It's all the same. What do you wish to do with your tresses?"
"What! I must cut them off?"
"You must. But how?"