"She has not come. Has not Yurand told?—for I hear that he is alive."
"Merciful Jesus! This is a punishment from God, and woe to us! Yurand has not spoken, and he is lying like a block of wood."
"Have no fear, gracious lady. Danusia remained in Spyhov."
"How dost thou know?"
"I know, because in no sleigh was there a trace of a change of clothing for her. She would not have come in one cloak."
"True, as God is dear to me!"
And quickly her eyes began to sparkle with pleasure.
"Hei, dear Jesus, Thou who wert born this night, it is evident that not Thy anger, but Thy blessing is upon us."
Still the arrival of Yurand without Danusia surprised her; so she inquired further,—
"What could have kept her at home?"
Zbyshko explained his surmises. They seemed correct, but did not cause her excessive alarm.
"Yurand will owe his life to us now," said she; "and to tell the truth, it is to thee that he owes it; for thou didst go to dig him out of the snow. He would, indeed, have a stone in his breast were he to resist any longer! There is in this a warning of God, for him not to resist the holy Sacrament. The moment that he recovers and speaks, I will tell him so."
"He must recover first; for it is unknown why Danusia has not come. But if she is ill?"
"Do not talk foolishness. As it is, I am sorry that she is not here. If she had been ill he would not have left her."
"True!"
And they went to Yurand. It was as hot in the room as in a bath, and perfectly lighted; for immense logs of pine were burning in the chimney. Father Vyshonek was watching the sick man, who was lying on a couch under bearskins; his face was pale, his hair damp from perspiration, his eyes closed. His mouth was open, and his breast moved with labor, but so violently that the skins with which he was covered rose and fell from the breathing.
"How is he?" asked the princess.
"We have poured a mug of heated wine into his mouth," answered the priest, "and he is perspiring."
"Is he sleeping?"
