sciousness. And she tried to stretch her hands to him, but failed because of surpassing weakness; he put his arms around her with a heart as full as if he were thanking her for some immense favor.
"Thou hast come to thyself," said he. "Oh, praise to God—to God—"
Then his voice failed him, and for some time they looked at each other in silence. The silence of the field was broken only by the fragrant meadow-breeze which murmured among the leaves of the pear-tree, the chirping of crickets in the grass, and the distant, indistinct singing of the mower.
Danusia gazed with growing consciousness and did not cease smiling, just like a child that in its sleep sees an angel. But in her eyes began now to appear a certain wonder.
"Where am I?" asked she.
Then a whole swarm of brief answers, interrupted through delight, broke from Zbyshko's lips,—
"Thou art with me! Near Spyhov. We are going to thy father. Thy misfortune is ended. Oi! my Danusia! Danusia! I sought thee and redeemed thee in battle. Thou art not in German power now. Have no fear of that! We shall soon be in Spyhov. Thou hast been ill, but the Lord Jesus had mercy. How much pain there was, how much weeping! Danusia!—Now it is well!—There is nothing before thee but happiness. Ei, how I have searched, how I have wandered!—Ei, mighty God!—Ei!"
And he drew a deep breath, but almost with a groan, as if he had thrown the last weight of pain from his heart.
Danusia lay quietly, recalling to herself something, pondering something, till at last she asked,—
"Then thou didst not forget me?"
And two tears which had gathered in her eyes rolled down her face slowly to the pillow.
"I forget thee!" exclaimed Zbyshko.
There was in that restrained exclamation more force than in the greatest vows and declarations, for he had loved her with his whole soul at all times, and from the moment when he had found her she was dearer than the whole world to him.
Meanwhile silence came again; only, in the distance the mower stopped singing and began to whet his scythe a second time.
Danusia's lips moved again, but with a whisper so low that Zbyshko could not hear it; so, bending down, he inquired,—
"What dost thou say, berry?"
vol. ii.—12
