"Well, but would he not tell it more easily to thee than to me? For—as to liking—he likes thee, and I have seen this, that when thou art moving through the room his eyes follow thee."
"Have you seen that?" inquired Yagenka.
"If I have said that his eyes follow, they follow. And when thou art not here for a long while, he looks time after time toward the door. Ask him thou."
And it rested there. But it turned out that Yagenka did not know how, and did not dare to ask. When it came to something serious, she understood that it would be necessary to speak of Danusia and of Zbyshko's love for the dead woman, and those things could not squeeze through her lips.
"You are shrewder," said she to Matsko, "and you have more mind and experience: speak you; I am not able."
Matsko, willing or unwilling, set about the task; and one morning when Zbyshko seemed somewhat fresher than usual, the old man began a conversation of this sort.
"Hlava tells me that thou hast placed a good bundle of peacock plumes in the vault of Spyhov."
Zbyshko, without taking his eyes from the ceiling, at which as he lay face upward he was gazing, merely nodded his head in agreement.
"Well! The Lord Jesus has given thee luck; for in war it is easier to find camp followers than knights. A man may get as many common warriors as he pleases; but to find a knight one must look around very carefully sometimes. But did they come under thy sword of their own will?"
"Some I challenged a number of times to trampled earth, and once they surrounded me in battle," said the young man, lazily.
"And thou didst bring booty enough?"
"Something; Prince Vitold gave me a present."
"Is he so bountiful yet?"
Zbyshko nodded his head again, not having evidently the wish to speak further.
But Matsko did not yield up the victory, and determined to approach the real subject.
"Tell me sincerely," said he: "when the tombs were covered with those crests, thou must have been relieved immensely? A man is always glad when he accomplishes a vow. Wert thou glad?"
