empty; yes, and in the house itself there is hardly a bench, or a narrow straw-tick to lie down on. A sick man needs comfort. So, do you know what? Come with me. Stay at my house a short month or two; that will be to my heart, and during that time Yagenka will think of Bogdanets. Only depend on her, and let not your head ache about anything. Zbyshko will go to look after the management; I will bring to you the reverend abbot and you can reckon at once with him. The girl will take as much care of you, Matsko, as if you were her own father, and in sickness a woman's care is better than any other. Well, my friends, will you do as I beg you?"
"It is a known fact that you are a kind man, and have always been such," said Matsko, with emotion; "but, see you, if I am to die by this ugly iron in my ribs I prefer to die in my own house. Besides, at home, though a man be sick, he inquires about more than one thing, and arranges more things than one. Should God command me to that world—there is no help for it. Whether the care be greater or less, I shall not twist out. To hardships we are accustomed in war. An armful of pea-straw is pleasant to him who has slept for years on bare earth. But I thank you much for your kindliness, and if I shall not thank you sufficiently, God grant that Zbyshko will."
Zyh, really famous for kindness, and obliging in character, began again to insist and beg, but Matsko had grown stubborn. If he had to die he would die in his own house! He had suffered whole years through his absence from Bogdanets; so now, when the boundary was not distant, he would not renounce it for anything, even were it to be his last camping-place. God had been kind hitherto in even permitting "the old man" to drag himself that far.
Here he pushed away with his fists the tears which had risen under his eyelids, and looked around.
"If these pine woods belong to Vilk of Brozova," said he, "we shall arrive just after mid-day."
"Not Vilk owns them now, but the abbot," said Zyh.
The sick Matsko laughed at this and after a while added,—
"If they are the abbot's they may be ours sometime."
"Oh," cried Zyh, joyously, "a little while since you were talking of death, but now you would like to outlive the abbot."
"Not I would outlive him, but Zbyshko."
Further conversation was interrupted by sounds of horns
