180
SHORT STORIES FROM THE BALKANS
Pero had finished. We had reached his dwelling in the meantime. His thin features were white; upon them I read the greatness of his sorrow.
When two years later I read that he had been killed in the battle of Zajćar, I thanked God. But whenever I think of Naja, the peasant girl, hope brightens my heart. A nation that has daughters like her—such a nation need have no fear of the future.
