CHAPTER VII.
Matsko and Zbyshko held each other in a long embrace, for each had loved the other always, and during recent years adventures and mishaps met in common made that love still stronger. The old knight divined from the first glance at his nephew that Danusia was not in the world then, so he made no inquiry; he merely drew the young man to his bosom, wishing to show by the power of that pressure that Zbyshko was not altogether an orphan, that there was still a kindred soul which was ready to share a sad fate with him.
At last, when sorrow and pain had flowed away with their tears considerably, Matsko asked, after a long silence,—
“Did they seize her again, or did she die in thy arms?“
“She died in my arms at the very edge of Spyhov,“ said Zbyshko.
And he told what had happened
