For a moment tears quivered in Zbyshko's voice, but he had a brave heart, so he mastered himself, and continued,—
"Men came for her in the evening, and wanted to take her immediately, but the princess commanded them to wait till morning. Now, the Lord Jesus inspired me to implore the princess and beg of her Danusia. I thought that if I were to die I should have even that consolation. Remember that the girl was to go, and I was to remain there sick, almost dying. There was no time to beg for your permission. The prince was not at the hunting-lodge, so the princess hesitated; she had no one with whom to advise. At last she and Father Vyshonek took pity on me, and Father Vyshonek married us. God's might, God's justice."
"God's punishment," added Yurand, in a deep voice.
"Why punishment?" asked Zbyshko. "Only notice, they sent for her before the marriage, and whether it took place or not they would have carried her away."
Yurand said nothing, and rode on shut up in himself, gloomy and with such a stony face that Zbyshko, though he felt immediately that consolation which the confession of a long-hidden secret always produces, was frightened at last, and said to himself with increasing alarm, that the old knight had grown stubborn in his anger, and that thenceforth they would be as strangers to each other and enemies.
And a moment of great affliction came on him. Never had he been in such a plight since the day of leaving Bogdanets. It seemed to him that there was no hope of reconciling Yurand, and, what was worse, no hope of saving Danusia; it seemed that all was useless; that in future there would fall on him only increasing misfortune and increasing misery. But this oppression was brief, or rather, in accordance with his nature, it turned quickly into anger and a desire for quarrel and battle.
"He wants no agreement," thought Zbyshko, in reference to Yurand; "let there be disagreement, let come what may!" And he was ready to spring at the eyes of Yurand himself. He was seized with a desire for battle with some one about some question; he wished to do something if he could give escape to his regret, his bitterness and anger; if he could find some relief.
Meanwhile they halted on the cross-road at an inn called Svetlik, where Yurand, when on journeys from the prince's castle to Spyhov, usually gave rest to his men and horses. He stopped now unconsciously. After a time Yurand and
