"What hast thou to do sitting here in idleness? Go to Bogdanets; thou wilt take a letter."
"If I am not to be with your Grace I should prefer to be there," answered he, delighted.
"Call Father Kaleb to me; let him write, as is proper, of all that has happened; the priest of Kresno will read the letter to uncle, or the abbot will read it if he is in Zgorzelitse."
But the next moment he struck his palm on his youthful mustaches, and added, speaking to himself,—
"Oh! the abbot!"
And Yagenka passed before his vision blue-eyed, dark-haired, shapely as a deer, and with tears on her eyelids. He felt awkward, and for a time rubbed his forehead.
"Indeed the girl will feel sad, but not sadder than I," said he.
Meanwhile Father Kaleb appeared and sat down to write. Zbyshko dictated to him minutely all that had happened from the time of his coming to the hunting-lodge. He kept back nothing, for he knew that old Matsko when he looked into those matters carefully would be glad at last. Indeed it was not possible to compare Bogdanets with Spyhov, which was a broad and rich property, and Zbyshko knew that Matsko valued such things immensely.
When, after long effort, the letter was finished and closed with a seal, Zbyshko called his attendant a second time and delivered it, saying,—
"Perhaps thou wilt return with uncle; if so I shall rejoice greatly."
But Hlava's face was full of evident anxiety; he hesitated, stood on one foot, then on the other, and did not start till the young knight spoke,—
"If thou hast more to say, say it."
"I should wish to know this. If people ask how shall I answer?"
"What people?"
"Not those in Bogdanets, but in the neighborhood,—for certainly they will wish to know."
At this Zbyshko, who had determined to make no concealment of anything, looked at Hlava quickly, and answered,—
"With thee it is not a question of people, but only of Yagenka."
Hlava blushed, then he grew somewhat pale and said,—
"Of her, lord."
