Krysia gratified the knight, and he said, “As often as we are alone, call me by name only.”
“Somehow it does not fit,” said she, with a smile. “I never shall dare to do that.”
“But I have dared.”
“For Pan Michael is a knight, Pan Michael is daring, Pan Michael is a soldier.”
“Krysia, you are my love!”
“Mich—” But Krysia had not courage to finish, and covered her face with her muff.
After a while Pan Michael returned to the house; they did not converse much on the road, but at the gate the little knight asked again, “But after yesterday’s—you understand—were you very sad?”
“Oh, I was ashamed and sad, but had a wonderful feeling,” added she, in a lower voice.
All at once they put on a look of indifference, so that no one might see what had passed between them. But that was a needless
