"Because it is unpleasant to be ridiculed by the country. At the same time his conduct toward Panna Anulka would be discovered. That would give him no enviable reputation. His life is not laudable, hence he should avoid the chance of letting witnesses tell in public what they know of him." "That may be true," said Pan Serafin, "but it is difficult to forgive the Bukoyemskis tricks of such a character." The priest waved his hand. "The Bukoyemskis are the Bukoyemskis." "How?" asked Pan Serafin, with astonishment. "I thought that your grace would be more offended." "My gracious sir," said the old man, "you have served in the army, but I have served longer, and have seen so many soldiers' tricks during my time that nothing common can surprise me. It is bad that such things happen. I blame the Bukoyemskis, but I have seen worse things, especially as in this case the question was of an orphan. I will go still farther and say sincerely, that I should grieve more if Martsian's deeds had gone unpunished. Think, we are old, but if we were young our hearts too would boil up over deeds such as his are. That is why I cannot blame the Bukoyemskis altogether." "True, true, but still Martsian may not live until morning." "That is in the hands of God; but you say he is not wounded?" "He is not, but he is all one blue spot, and faints continually." "Oh, he will get out of that; he fainted from fatigue. But I must go to the Bukoyemskis and inquire how it happened." The brothers received him with rapture, for they hoped that he would take their part with Pan Serafin. They began to quarrel at once as to who should tell the tale, and stopped only when the priest gave Mateush the primacy. Mateush resumed his voice and spoke as follows,-- "Father benefactor, God saw our innocence! For, when we learned from Pani Dzvonkovski how that poor little orphan had blue lumps all over her body, we came into this room in such grief that had it not been for the mead which Pan Serafin sent us in a pitcher, our hearts would have burst perhaps. And I say to your grace, we drank and shed tears--we drank and shed tears. And we had this in mind too, that she was no common girl, but a young lady descended from senators. It is known to you, for example, that the higher blood a horse has, the thinner his skin is; slash a common drudge with a whip, he will hardly feel it, but strike a noble steed, and immediately a welt will come out on him. Think, Father benefactor, what a thin, tender skin such a dear little girl must have on her shoulders, and all over her body, just like a wafer--say yourself--" "What do I know of her skin?" cried Father Voynovski, in anger. "Tell me better, how did ye plaster up Martsian."