"You don't know Radonic: if you are a fox, he is no goose. He is capable of coming back just to see what I am doing."
"I think I know him a little better than you do, and a longer time. We have been friends from childhood; in fact, all but _pobratim_."
"That's the reason why you are ready to deceive him, then?"
"What business had he to marry you? What would I not do for your love, Milena? Why, I'd give my soul to Satan, if he wanted it."
"I'm afraid it's no longer yours to give away. But come, Vranic, if you really are as fond of me as you pretend to be, have some pity on me, be kind; think how wretched my whole life has hitherto been, leave me alone, forget me."
"Ask me anything else but that. How can I forget you? How can I cease loving you, when I live only for you? I only see through your eyes."
"Then I'll ask Radonic to take me to Montenegro with him, and I'll remain with my family."
"And I'll follow you there. You don't understand all the strength of my love for you."
Thereupon, forgetting his usual prudence, he stepped up to her, and passing his arm round her waist, he strained her to his breast, and wanted to kiss her. She wriggled and struggled, and tried to push him away.
"Unhand me," she said, alarmed; "unhand me at once, or I'll scream."
"Lot of good it'll do you. Come," he replied, "remember your promise. I've kept my part, try and keep yours with good grace or----"
"Or by the holy Virgin, it'll be so much the worse for you! I know----" he stopped, and then he added: "In fact, I know what I know. Remember, therefore, it is much better to have Vranic for your friend than for your foe."
"I only know that women have long hair and little brains. Try and not be like most of them."
"Mind, I might for once have more brains than you; therefore, I entreat you, nay, I command you, not to try and see me to-morrow."
"As for that, I'll use my own discretion."
Saying these words, he went off, and left Milena alone. As soon as he had disappeared, she went in, and sank down on the hearth; there, leaning her elbows on her knees, she hid her face between her palms; then she began nursing her grief.
"They say I am happy," she muttered to herself, "because I am rich --though I have not a penny that I can call my own--because I can eat white bread every day. Yet would it not be better by far to be an animal and graze in the fields, than eat bread moistened with my own tears? Oh! why was I not born a man? Then, at least, I might have gone where I liked--done what I pleased.