CHAPTER XVIII
THE CONVENT OF ST. GEORGE
When Mara reached the convent, it was with the greatest difficulty, and only through the persuasive influence of her uncle, Danko Kvekvic, that she was allowed to see her son. Uros, moreover, had to be transported from the cell into which he had been carried, into a room near the church—a sort of border-land between the sanctuary and the convent. Even there she was only allowed to remain till nightfall.
"Tell me," said Mara, to the ministering monk (a man more than six feet in height, and who, in his black robes, seemed a real giant), "tell me, do you think he might pass away during the night while I am not with him?"
"No, I don't think so. He is young and strong; he is one of our sturdy race—a Iugo Slav, not a Greek, or an effete Turk eaten away by vice and debauchery. He'll linger on."
"Still, there is no hope?"
"Who can tell? I never said there was none. For me, as long as there is a faint spark of life, there is always hope."
"Still, you have administered the sacrament to him?"
"You wouldn't have him die like a dog, would you?" answered the priest, combing out his long white beard with his fingers.
"No, certainly not."