"Do not say such foolish things; and let me help you back to bed."
Milena shook her head, and fixing her large and luminous deep blue eyes on the young girl, she said, wistfully:
"Listen, Frana. Uros is dying, perhaps he is dead! I must see him once more. I must go to him, even if I have to die on the way thither!"
"What! go to the Convent of St. George?"
Milena nodded assent.
"But what are you thinking about? How can you, in your state, think of going there?"
"I must, even if I should have to crawl on all-fours!"
"But if you got there, if I carried you there, they would never let you go in; you know women——"
"Yes, they will; that's why I've cut off my hair."
"I don't understand."