Chapter XII

Consists of a very few words which are, however, of all the more consequence.

When Barbara Pirka visited the young woman next morning, she was greatly astonished to find her quite dressed. Michal had on the beautiful cornflower-blue silk dress of the beheaded Polish countess.

She drove out the housekeeper with her morning broth.

"Bring me broiled flesh and red wine," she cried, imperiously.

So she could speak and eat again at last!

When Barbara Pirka returned with the cold meat, flavored with garlic, and a flask of wine, Michal sat down at the table and took a long draught, and then she ate, and then she drank again.

"Fill up!" she cried to the housekeeper.

After she had eaten and drank her fill, she turned to Barbara Pirka and said:

"What ought a wife to do who hates her husband?"

"Leave that to me, I understand a little about it."

Then Michal asked a second question:

"What ought a wife to do who loves another?"

"Leave that to me also, I understand a good deal about it."

"And what ought a woman to do who no longer believes in Heaven?" asked Michal for the third time.

"I'll tell you, my little squirrel, for no one knows more about that than I do."