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Updated: May 26, 2025
"All well," said the blacksmith; then, with a glance at the forge "except the ; but that's not much after all. Come in, gentlemen, come in." We entered, and found Marika as neat and thrifty as ever, though with a touch of care about her pretty face which had not been there when I first met her. A few words explained the cause of their trouble.
"You are badly hurt, Dobri, I fear," he said, when the life-giving draught had sent new vigour into his frame, and loosed his tongue. "Ay," replied the scout, with a faint smile. "I shall soon be with you now, Marika, and with the little ones and the dear Lord you loved so well and tried so hard to make me follow too. And you succeeded, Marika, though you little th "
Our search and inquiries, however, were vain. Venilik was almost deserted. No one could tell anything about the Petroff family that we did not already know. It was certainly known that many persons men and women had fled to the neighbouring woods, and that some had escaped, but it was generally believed that Marika had been burnt in her own cottage.
I did not dare at this time to raise hopes, which might soon be dashed to pieces, in the heart of the poor forlorn child, and therefore did not say all that was in my mind; but my object in returning to Venilik was to make inquiry after her mother. My own hopes were not strong, but I did not feel satisfied that we had obtained sufficient proof that Marika had been killed.
The watcher was so very pale, wan, and haggard, that, but for her attitude and the motion of her great dark eyes, she also might have been mistaken for one of the dead. It was Marika, who escaped with only a slight flesh-wound in the arm from the soldier who had pursued her into the woods near her burning home. A young man sat beside her also gazing in silence at the marble countenance.
"No, Petko, no," said Marika, looking at the youth mournfully, "I cannot stay here. As long as the sister of my preserver lived it was my duty to remain, but now that the bullet has finished its work, I must go. It is impossible to rest." "But, Marika," urged Petko Borronow, taking his friend's hand, "you know it is useless to continue your search.
When Marika told him of the death of their two children he was not so much overwhelmed as she had anticipated. "I'm not so sure that you are right, Marika," he said, after a long sad pause. "That our darling boy is now in heaven I doubt not, for you saw him killed. But you did not see Ivanka killed, and what you call her death-shriek may not have been her last.
He gave one of the Bibles to my wife here, and she has been reading it pretty eagerly ever since." "What! this, then, is your wife?" I exclaimed. "Yes, Marika is my wife, and Ivanka is my daughter," replied Petroff, with a tender glance at the little girl that trotted by his side.
"Oh, husband!" pleaded Marika, for the first time breaking silence, "do not take vengeance into your own hands." "Well, as to that," returned Dobri, with a careless smile, "I have no particular desire for vengeance; but the Turks have taken away my livelihood; I have nothing to do, and may as well fight as anything else. It will at all events enable me to support you and the children.
"Oh that the fatal ball had found my heart instead of hers!" cried the youth, clasping his hands and gazing at the tranquil countenance on the bed. "Better as it is," said Marika in a low voice. "If you had been killed she would have fallen into the hands of the Bashi-Bazouks, and that would have been worse far worse. The Lord does all things well.
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