“A lifetime would not suffice to thank Michael,” said Ketling, at last. “Our happiness is his work.”
“God give you happiness!” said Makovetski. “We will not oppose Michael.”
Krysia dropped into the embraces of Pani Makovetski, and the two began to cry. Zagloba was as if stunned. Ketling bowed to Makovetski’s knees as to those of a father; and either from the onrush of thoughts, or from confusion, Makovetski said, “But Pan Deyma killed Pan Ubysh. Thank Michael, not me!” After a while he asked, “Wife, what was the name of that lady?”
But she had no time for an answer, for at that moment Basia rushed in, panting more than usual, more rosy than usual, with her forelock falling down over her eyes more than usual; she ran up to Ketling and Krysia, and thrusting her finger now into the eye of
