Komel might not be that dove.

So earnestly was he impressed with this idea, after the conversation
which had just occurred, that twice he turned his steps and resolved
to seek the lofty cliff where the hawk had flown, as though he could
yet release the poor dove; then remembering himself, he would once
more press the downward path to the valley.

It was not to be presumed that Komel should not have found other
admirers among the youths of her native valley. She had touched the
hearts of many, though being no coquette, they soon learned to
forget her, seeing how much her heart was already another's. This,
we say, was generally the case, but there was one exception, in the
person of a young man but little older than Aphiz, whose name was
Krometz. He had loved Komel truly, had told her so, and had been
gently refused her own affection by her; but still he persevered,
until the love he had borne her had turned to something very unlike
love, and he resolved in his heart that if she loved not him,
neither should she marry Aphiz.

At one time when Aphiz was in the heat of battle, charging upon the
Russian infantry, suddenly he staggered, reeled and fell, a bullet
had passed into his chest near the heart. His comrades raised him up
and brought him off the battle-field, and after days of painful
suffering he recovered, and was once more as well as ever, little
dreaming that the bullet which had so nearly cost him his life came
from one of his own countrymen. Could the ball have been examined,
it would have fitted exactly Krometz's rifle!

Though the rifle shot had failed, Krometz's enmity had in no way