His letter ended with the words: “The Poles are victorious and the Russians are defeated! Hurrah!” Albína was in raptures. She examined the map, calculated where and when the Russians would be finally beaten, and grew pale and trembled when her father slowly opened the packets that arrived by post. One day her stepmother, happening to enter Albína’s room, found her standing before the looking-glass, dressed in a pair of trousers and a man’s hat. Albína was getting ready to run away from home in male attire to join the Polish army. Her stepmother told her father. He called his daughter to him, and (hiding his feeling of sympathy and even admiration) rebuked her sternly, demanding that she should give up her foolish idea of taking part in the war. “Women have other duties: to love and comfort those who sacrifice themselves for their country,” said he. Now he had need of her and she was his joy and solace; and the time would come when she would be needed by a husband. He knew how to influence her. He hinted at his loneliness and sorrows, and she pressed her face against him, hiding the tears which, for all that, wetted the sleeves of his dressing-gown; and she promised to undertake nothing without his consent.