He was terrified to see her covered with blood.
"Oh, no," said the girl: "see, the knife only went in so deep."
And she displayed the robber's knife, showing on the blade how far it had penetrated.
Lorand clasped his hands in despair.
"Here is a kerchief, press it on the wound to prevent the blood flowing."
"Go, go!" panted the girl. "Look after your own safety. They want to kill you. They want to murder you."
"Aha! let the wretches come! I shall face them without running!" said Lorand, whose only care was for Czipra: he quickly tried to stem the flow of blood from the wound in the girl's breast with a handkerchief. "Lie quiet. Put your head here. Here, here, not so high. Is it very painful?"
On the girl's neck was a chain made of hair: this was in the way, so he wished to tear it off.
"No, no, don't touch it," panted the girl, "that must remain there as long as I live. Go, get a weapon, and defend yourself."