Then he opened his lips, and said in a very weak voice:
"I should like a drink of water."
Katharina made haste to fill the helmet again at her fountain.
"Thank you, sister."
"Look at me, Laczi bácsi;" commanded Katharina, in a cheerful tone. "Don't you know me? I am the woman who gave shelter to your wife and child. I am little Laczko's foster-mother."
The wounded man smiled faintly, and murmured: "Yes, yes—Laczko—Laczko is a fine lad! He came near—shooting me because—because of the maid."
"Tell me what you know about the maid," eagerly questioned Katharina. "Where is she?"
The wounded man opened his eyes, and seemed to be trying to recall something. After a pause, he said slowly, and with evident difficulty:
"You need n't—trouble about the—pretty maid. Laczko is a brave lad—and my wife—my wife is—an honest woman."
"Yes, yes, I know," returned Katharina. "A good lad, and an honest woman. But tell me, in heaven's name, where is the maid?"