Bogun struggled with himself a moment. "Do not tell me such things," said he, with a hoarse voice.
"Do not speak to me of your love; it brings me shame and offence. I am not for you."
The chief rose. "And for whom, then, are you, Princess Kurtsevichovna? And whose would you have been in Bar but for me?"
"Whoso saves my life to give me shame and captivity is my enemy, not my friend."
"And do you suppose that the peasants would have killed you? The thought is terrible."
"The knife would have killed me, but you wrenched it from me."
"And I will not give it up, for you must be mine," burst out the Cossack.
"Never! I prefer death."
"You must and will be."
"Never!"