"Traitor! that will not go with you! But she--what--tell me everything. Did she accept?" "She refused me on the spot, without thinking." A moment of silence followed. Kmita breathed heavily, and fixed his eyes on Volodyovski, who said,-- "Why call me traitor? Am I your brother or your best man? Have I broken faith with you? I conquered you in battle, and could have done what I liked." "In old fashion one of us would seal this with his blood,--if not with a sabre, with a gun. I would shoot you; then let the devils take me." "Then you would have shot me, for if she had not refused I should not have accepted a second duel. What had I to fight for? Do you know why she refused me?" "Why?" repeated Kmita, like an echo. "Because she loves you." That was more than the exhausted strength of the sick man could bear. His head fell on the pillows, a copious sweat came out on his forehead, and he lay there in silence. "I am terribly weak," said he, after a while. "How do you know that she loves me?" "Because I have eyes and see, because I have reason and observe; just after I had received the refusal my head became clear. To begin with, when after the duel I came to tell her that she was free, for I had slain you, she was dazed, and instead of showing gratitude she ignored me entirely; second, when the Domasheviches were bringing you in, she carried your head like a mother; and third, because when I visited her, she received me as if some one were giving me a slap in the face. If these explanations are not sufficient, it is because your reason is shaken and your mind impaired." "If that is true," said Kmita, with a feeble voice, "many plasters are put on my wounds; better balsam than your words there could not be." "But a traitor applies this balsam." "Oh, forgive me! Such happiness cannot find place in my mind, that she has a wish for me still." "I said that she loves you; I did not say that she has a wish for you,--that is altogether different." "If she has no wish for me, I will break my head against the wall; I cannot help it." "You might if you had a sincere desire of effacing your faults. There is war now; you may go, you may render important services to our dear country, you may win glory with bravery, and mend your reputation. Who is without fault? Who has no sin on his conscience? Every one has. But the road to penance and correction is open to all. You sinned through violence, then avoid it henceforth; you offended against the country by raising disturbance in time of war, save the country now; you committed wrongs against men, make reparation for them. This is a better and a surer way for you than breaking your head." Kmita looked attentively at Volodyovski; then said, "You speak like a sincere friend of mine."