Milena would willingly have opened the door to see if Uros was only scratched, but she was in too great a trepidation to do so.
"Well," added she, "if you are not hurt, please go away."
"But are you not afraid Vranic might come back?"
"Well, and if he does? He'll find the door shut as before. Moreover, I'm by no means afraid of him, he is the greatest coward, or at least the only coward, of the town; therefore do not stay here on my account, you can do me no good."
"Then you do not want me?" said Uros, in a lingering way, and with a sigh.
"No; go," quoth she. "If you love me, go."
Uros turned his back on the cottage and wended his steps homewards. The moon was now rising above the hills in the distance. Milena went to the window and looked at the young man going off. Her heart yearned after him as he went, and she fain would have called him back.
Poor fellow, he had fought for her, he was wounded, and now she let him go off like that. It was not right. Was his wound but a scratch? She ought to have seen after it. It was very ungrateful of her not to have looked after it.
All at once Uros stopped. Her heart began to beat. He turned round and came back on his steps. At first she was delighted, then she was disappointed. She wished he had not turned back.
He walked back slowly and stealthily, trying to muffle his steps.