“What are you talking about, good Vasile! Is it possible!”
Vasile said no more. The boyar thought deeply, his hand on his forehead; then he said:
“That’s what I must do, Vasile! I know what I have to do! Bravo you, good Vasile!”
“If only I knew I was to get two ducats reward!” sighed Vasile, scratching his head.
And that evening Boyar Nicola kept his word. He mounted his horse, took with him five companions from among the grooms, and started out to Frasini.
The forest shuddered with the whisper of the breeze of the autumn night. The men rode silently. From time to time could be heard the trumpeting of the cock, coming they knew not whence. Beyond lay silence. At last the widow’s courtyard came into sight, black, like some heap of coal.
Like ghosts Nicola and his companions approached the wall; in silence they dismounted; they threw rope-ladders over the top of the wall, climbed up and over to the other side. The horses remained tied to the trees.
Suddenly they heard cries. Boyar Nicola was not afraid. He hurried to the door—the doors were not shut. He passed along the corridor.
“Aha!” murmured the Greek. “Now I shall have the darling in my arms.”
But suddenly a door was opened, and a bright sea of light illuminated the passage. Boyar Nicola was not frightened. He advanced towards the room. But he had scarcely gone two paces when there, on the threshold, stood the Sultana, with her hair undone, in a thin white petticoat and a white dressing-jacket. With frowning brows she stood in the doorway looking at the boyar.