Hania. Генрик Сенкевич

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      "Pan Henryk! what do you want? What do you say?"

      "I say – I say," whispered I, with set teeth, "that thou hast no shame in thy eyes. Hei?"

      Hania sat down again on the sofa, helpless. I looked at her; she was pale as linen. But pity for the poor girl had fled from me. I grasped her hand, and squeezing its small fingers, continued, —

      "Hear me! I was at thy feet. I loved thee more than the whole world – "

      "Pan Henryk!"

      "Be silent. I saw and heard everything. Thou art shameless, – thou and he."

      "My God! my God!"

      "Thou art shameless. I would not have dared to kiss the hem of thy garment, and he kissed thee on the lips. Thou thyself didst draw him to thy kisses. Hania, I despise thee! I hate thee! I hate thee!"

      The voice died in my breast. I began to breathe quickly and catch for air, which was lacking in my breast.

      "Thou hast felt," said I, after a while, "that I will separate you. If I had to lose my life, I will separate you, even if I had to kill him, thee, and myself. What I said a moment ago is not true. He loves thee, he would not leave thee; but I will separate you."

      "Of what are you talking with so much earnestness?" asked Pani d'Yves, who was sitting at the other end of the room.