CHAPTER XV.
Matsko waited a number of days patiently. Would some news come from Zyh's house? Would the abbot be pacified? At last he was wearied from waiting in uncertainty, and resolved to visit Zyh. Everything that had happened had happened without fault of his, but he wished to know whether Zyh felt offended; as to the abbot, Matsko was convinced that his anger would continue to weigh on him and his nephew.
He wished, however, to do all in his power to soften that anger; hence, on the road he was thinking and fixing in his mind what to say to diminish the feeling of offence and maintain old neighborly friendship. Somehow the thoughts in his head did not cleave to one another; hence, he was glad to find Yagenka alone. She received him in former fashion, with an obeisance, a kissing of the hand, in a word, with friendliness, though with some sadness.
"Is your father at home?" inquired Matsko.
"At home, but he has gone to hunt with the abbot—short waiting till they come."
She conducted him to the chief room, where, when they had sat down, both were silent for some time.
"Is it dull for you alone in Bogdanets?" asked she, breaking the silence.
"Dull," answered Matsko. "Dost thou know that Zbyshko is gone?"
"I know," answered Yagenka, sighing silently. "I knew the same day, and thought that he would come here to say even a kind word; but he came not."
"How was he to come? The abbot would have torn him; and thy father would not have been glad to see him."
"Ei! I would not have let any one harm him," said Yagenka, shaking her head.
At this Matsko, though he had a tempered heart, was moved; he drew the girl toward him, and said,—
"God reward thee, girl! For thee there is sadness; but for me also. I will only tell thee that neither the abbot nor thy own father loves thee more than I. Better I had died
vol. i.—13
