"He drove over to the neighboring village to bring a doctor for you."
"No harm has come to him?"
"You might have heard his voice through the window, when all was over. He could not come in, because the door was closed. His first care was to bring a surgeon for you."
The girl sighed.
"If he comes too late...."
"Don't fret about that. Your wound is not fatal; only be calm."
"I know better," said the girl in a flush of fever. "I feel that I shall not live."
"Don't worry, Czipra, you will get better," said Topándy, taking the girl's hand.
And then the girl locked her five fingers in those of Topándy, so that they were clasped like two hands in prayer.
"Sir, I know I am standing on the brink of the grave. I have now grasped your hand. I have clasped it, as people at prayer are wont to clasp their hands. Can you let me go down to the grave without teaching me one prayer. This night the murderer's knife has pierced my heart to liberate yours. Does not my heart deserve the accomplishment of its last wish? Does not that God, who this night has liberated us both, me from life, you from death, deserve our thanks?"