She lay for a time with closed eyes, then, opening them, looked into the face of the little knight, and asked—
“Michael, am I in Hreptyoff?”
“Yes, my love,” answered Volodyovski, closing his teeth.
“And are you really near me?”
“Yes; how do you feel?”
“Ai, well.”
It was clear that she herself was not certain that the fever had not brought before her eyes deceptive visions; but from that moment she regained consciousness more and more.
In the evening Lusnia and his men came and shook out of a bag before the fort the doctor of Kamenyets, together with his medicines; he was barely alive. But when he learned that he was not in robber hands, as he thought, but was brought in that fashion to a patient, after a passing faintness he went to the rescue at once, especially as Zagloba held before him in one hand a purse filled with coin, in the other a loaded pistol, and said—
“Here is the fee for life, and there is the fee for death.”
That same night, about daybreak, the spider of ill-omen hid away somewhere for good; thereupon the decision of the doctor, “She will be sick a long time, but she will recover,” sounded with joyful echo through Hreptyoff. When Pan Michael heard it first, he fell on the floor and broke into such violent sobbing that it seemed as though his bosom would burst. Zagloba grew weak altogether from joy, so that his face was covered with sweat, and he was barely able to exclaim, “A drink!” The officers embraced one another.
On the square the dragoons assembled again, with the escort and the Cossacks of Pan Motovidlo; it was hardly possible to restrain them from shouting. They wanted absolutely to show their delight in some fashion, and they began to beg for a number of robbers imprisoned in the cellars of Hreptyoff, so as to hang them for the benefit of the lady.
But the little knight refused.
XLIII
Basia suffered so violently for a week yet, that had it not been for the assurance of the doctor both Pan Michael and Zagloba would have admitted that the flame of her life might expire at any moment. Only at the end of that time did she become notably better; her consciousness returned fully, and though the doctor foresaw that she would lie in bed a month, or a month and a half, still it was certain that she would return to perfect health, and gain her former strength.
Pan Michael during her illness went hardly one step from her pillow; he loved her after these perils still more, if possible, and did not see the world beyond her. At times when he sat near her, when he looked on that face, still thin and emaciated but joyous, and those eyes, into which the old fire was returning each day, he was beset by the wish to laugh, to cry, and to shout from delight:—
“My only Basia is recovering; she is recovering!”
And he rushed at her hands, and sometimes he kissed those poor little feet which had waded so valiantly through the deep snows to Hreptyoff; in a word, he loved her and honored her beyond estimation. He felt wonderfully indebted to Providence, and on a certain time he said in presence of Zagloba and the officers:—
“I am a poor man, but even were I to work off my arms to the elbows, I will find money for a little church, even a wooden one. And as often as they ring the bells in it, I will remember the mercy of God, and the soul will be melting within me from gratitude.”
“God grant us first to pass through this Turkish war with success,” said Zagloba.
“The Lord knows best what pleases Him most,” replied the little knight: “if He wishes for a church He will preserve me; and if He prefers my blood, I shall not spare it, as God is dear to me.”
Basia with health regained her humor. Two weeks later she gave command to open the door of her chamber a little one evening; and when the officers had assembled in the room, she called out with her silvery voice:—
“Good evening, gentlemen! I shall not die this time, aha!”
“Thanks to the Most High God!” answered the officers, in chorus.
“Glory be to God, dear child!” exclaimed Pan Motovidlo, who loved Basia particularly with a fatherly affection, and who in moments of great emotion spoke always in Russian.28
“See, gentlemen,” continued Basia, “what has happened! Who could have hoped for this? Lucky that it ended so.”
“God watched over innocence,” called the chorus again through the door.
“But Pan Zagloba laughed at me more than once, because I have more love for the sabre than the distaff. Well, a distaff or a needle would have helped me greatly! But didn’t I act like a cavalier, didn’t I?”
“An angel could not have done better!”
Zagloba interrupted the conversation by closing the door of the chamber, for he feared too much excitement for Basia. But she was angry as a cat at the old man, for she had a wish for further conversation, and especially to hear more praises of her bravery and valor. When danger had passed, and was merely a reminiscence, she was very proud of her action against Azya, and demanded praise absolutely. More than once she turned to the little knight, and pushing his breast with her finger said, with the mien of a spoiled child—
“Praise for the bravery!”
And he, the obedient, praised her and fondled her, and kissed her on the
