"Merciful Jesus!"
He sprang out of the hut, and at the door struck against Matsko; he threw at him the one word "Water," and rushed toward the brook which was flowing near by through forest moss and a thicket.
He returned soon with water, which he gave to Danusia, who drank eagerly. Matsko had entered the hut, for he had come to learn how things were, and was looking with a frown at the sick woman.
"She is in a fever," said he.
"Yes," groaned Zbyshko.
"Does she understand what thou sayest?"
"No."
The old man frowned again, then raised his hand and rubbed the back of his head and his neck with it.
"What is to be done?"
"I know not."
"There is only one thing," said Matsko.
But Danusia interrupted him at that moment. When she had finished drinking she fixed on him eyes widely open from fever, and said,—
"I have not offended thee; forgive."
"I forgive, child; I wish only thy good," answered the old knight, with some emotion.
"Listen," said he to Zbyshko. "There is no reason why she should stay here. When the wind blows around her, and the sun warms her, she may feel better. Do not lose thy head, boy, but put her into that same cradle in which they carried her, or on thy saddle, and to the road! Dost understand?"
After these words he started to leave the hut and give final orders, but barely had he looked out when he stood as if fixed to the earth. A strong detachment of infantry, armed with spears and halberds, had surrounded on four sides, as with a wall, the hut, the field, and the tarpits.
"Germans!" thought Matsko.
His soul was filled with a shudder, but he grasped his sword-hilt, gritted his teeth, and stood like a wild beast which, brought to bay by dogs on a sudden, is preparing to defend itself desperately. Meanwhile the giant Arnold with some other knight approached from the tarpits, and when he had come up he said,—
"The wheel of fortune changes; I was your prisoner, but now you are ours." He looked then with pride at the
