It seemed as though her consciousness was gradually increasing, for she continued to smile and had the appearance of a sleeping child seeing angels in its dream. Little by little her face assumed an air of astonishment.
"Oh! where am I?" she cried. He was so much overcome with joy that he uttered numerous short and abrupt questions.
"Near Spychow. You are with me, and we are going to see dear papa. Your sorrow is ended. Oh! my darling Danusia, I searched for you and rescued you. You are no more in the power of the Germans. Be not afraid. We shall soon be at Spychow. You were ill, but the Lord Jesus had mercy upon you. There was so much sorrow, so many tears! Dear Danusia. Now, everything is well. There is nothing but happiness for you. Ah I how much did I search for you!... How far did I wander!... Oh! Mighty God!... Oh!..."
He sighed deeply and groaned as though he had thrown off the last heavy burden of suffering from his breast.
Danusia lay quiet trying to recall something to her mind and reflecting upon something. Then finally she asked: "So, you cared for me?"
Two tears which were gathering in her eyes slowly rolled down her cheeks upon the pillow.
"I, not care for you?" cried Zbyszko.
There was something more powerful in that smothered exclamation than in the most vehement protestations and oaths, because he had always loved her with his whole soul. And from the moment when he had recovered her she had become more dear to him than the whole world.
Silence reigned again. The distant singing of the mowing peasant ceased and he began to whet his scythe again.
Danusia's lips moved again, but with such a low whisper that Zbyszko could not hear it. He therefore bent over her and asked: "What do you say, darling?"
But she repeated: "Sweet smelling blossoms."
"Because we are near the meadows," he replied. "But we shall soon proceed and go to dear papa, whom we have also rescued from captivity, and you shall be mine even unto death. Do you hear me well? Do you understand me?"
Then he suddenly became alarmed, for he observed that her face was gradually paling and was thickly covered with perspiration.
"What ails you?" he asked in great alarm.
And he felt his hair bristling and frost creeping through his bones.
"What ails you, tell me," he repeated.
"It darkens," she whispered.
"It darkens? Why, the sun shines and you say: 'it darkens'?" he said with a suppressed voice. "Up to this time you have spoken rationally. In God's name I beseech you, speak, even if it is only one word."