“All ready!“ said Helena.
Zagloba straightened up, as if rising in his stirrups for a blow. The metallic blade whistled in the air, and that moment the dark tresses slipped down along the smooth bark to the ground.
“All over!“ said Zagloba, in his turn.
Helena sprang up, and immediately the short-cut hair fell in a dark circle around her face, on which blushes of shame were beating,--for at that period the cutting of a maiden's hair was considered a great disgrace; therefore it was on her part a grievous sacrifice, which she could make only in case of extreme necessity. In fact, tears came to her eyes; and Zagloba, angry at himself, made no attempt to comfort her.
“It seems to me that I have ventured on something dishonorable, and I repeat to you that Pan Skshetuski, if he is a worthy
