"War is war; a single combat is quite different."
"True, but wait. You must find some way. Well, there is a way! Prince Janusz will dub me a knight. If the princess and Danusia ask him, he will do it. In the meantime I will fight in Mazowsze with the son of Mikolaj of Dlugolas."
"What for?"
"Because Mikolaj, the same who is with the princess and whom they call Obuch, called Danusia, 'bush.'"
Macko looked at him in amazement. Zbyszko, wishing to explain better about what had occurred, said further: "I cannot forgive that, but I cannot fight with Mikolaj, because he must be nearly eighty years old."
To this Macko said: "Listen! It is a pity that you should lose your head; but there will not be a great loss of brains, because you are stupid like a goat."
"Why are you angry?"
Macko did not answer, but started to leave. Zbyszko sprang toward him and said: "How is Danusia? Is she well yet? Don't be angry for a trifle. You have been absent so long!"
Again he bent toward the old man who shrugged his shoulders and said mildly: "Jurandowna is well, only they will not let her go out of her room yet. Good-bye!"
Zbyszko remained alone, but he felt as if he had been regenerated. He rejoiced to think that he might be allowed to live three months more. He could go to remote lands; he could find Lichtenstein, and engage in deadly combat with him. Even the thought about that filled him with joy. He would be fortunate, to be able to ride a horse, even for twelve weeks; to be able to fight and not perish without vengeance. And then--let happen what would happen--it would be a long time anyhow! The king might return and forgive him. War might break out, and the castellan himself when he saw the victor of the proud Lichtenstein, might say: "Go now into the woods and the fields!"
Therefore a great hope entered his heart. He did not think that they would refuse to grant him those three months. He thought that perhaps they would grant hem more. The old Pan of Tenczyn would never admit that a nobleman could not keep his word.
Therefore when Macko came to the prison, the next day toward evening, Zbyszko, who could hardly sit quiet, sprang toward him and asked: "Granted?"
Macko sat on the truckle-bed, because he could not stand on account of his feebleness; for a while he breathed heavily and finally said: "The castellan said: 'If you wish to divide your land, or attend to your household, then I will release your nephew for a week or two on his knightly word, but for no longer.'"