Her voice now rang with such cordial solicitude that Ladislaus smiled
and answered:
"Nothing, unless it be to commiserate with me."
And in a moment she was transported with spasmodic grief; she flung her
face at his feet, and, embracing them with her arms, began to kiss them
through the quilt. Her raven-like head and bent body shook from
sobbing.
"Why little lady! Panna Pauly!" cried Ladislaus.
And he was compelled to repeat this several times before she heard him.
Finally she rose and, covering her eyes with her hands, went to the
window, pressed her face against the pane, and for some time remained
motionless. Afterwards she began to wipe her eyes and readjust her
hair, as if in fear that somebody, entering unexpectedly, might surmise
what had taken place.
In the meantime, all the moments in which he had come in contact with
her coursed through Ladislaus' mind, commencing with meeting her on the
dark path, when she told him that a were-wolf did not look like that,
and the vision in the bath-room, until his conversation with her, after
that vision, on the yoked elm grove near the pond. He recalled how from
that time she alternately reddened and grew pale at the sight of him;
how she drooped her eyes and how she sent them after him whenever it
seemed to her that he was not observing. From one view, Ladislaus
accepted this as the sequel of the incident in the bath-room; from
another as admiration for his shapeliness. This admiration, indeed,
flattered his masculine vanity, but he did not give it much thought,
as, having his mind absorbed with Miss Anney, her servant did not
concern him. Now, however, he understood that this was something more
than the blandishments of an artful chambermaid after a handsome young
heir, and that this maiden had become distractedly infatuated with him
and in a kind of morbid manner. His love for Miss Anney was too deep
and true for him to be pleased with such a state of affairs or for him
to think that after his wounds were healed he could take advantage of
the maiden's feelings in the fashion of a gallant. On the contrary, the
thought that he had unwittingly aroused such feelings appeared
disagreeable and irksome to him. He was seized by a fear of what might
result from it. There came to him, as if in a vision, troubles, scenes,
and entanglements, which such a passion might produce. He understood
that this was a fire with which he could not thoughtlessly play; that
he would have to be careful and not give her any encouragement. He
decided also, notwithstanding the pity and sympathy he felt in the
depth of his heart for the maiden, to avoid in the future all
conversations, all jests, and everything which might draw her nearer to
him, encourage intimacy, or provoke in the future outbursts similar to
the one of that day. It even occurred to him to request Miss Anney not
to send her to him any more, but he abandoned that resolution,
observing that it might cause sorrow or cast upon him a shadow of
ludicrousness. Finally he came to the conclusion that above all it was
incumbent upon him not to ask the maid about anything; not to demand
any explanation as to the meaning of that outbreak and those tears, and
to behave coolly and distantly.
In the meantime the maiden, at the window, having regained her
composure, again approached the bed and spoke in a meek and hesitating
voice:
"I beg your pardon, sir. Be not angry at me, sir."
He closed his eyes and only after an interval replied:
"Little lady, I am not angry, but I need peace."
"I beg pardon," she repeated yet more meekly.
However she observed that he spoke in a different tone, drier and
colder than previously, and intense uncertainty was depicted upon her
countenance, for she did not know whether this was the momentary
dissatisfaction of the patient, who, in reality, did desire quiet or
whether it was the displeasure of the young heir at her--a servant
maid--having dared to betray her feelings. Fearing, however, to again
offend him, she became silent and seating herself upon the chair which
Miss Anney had occupied, she took from the commode the work which
previously had been brought and began to sew, glancing from time to
time with great uneasiness, and as if in fear, at Ladislaus. He also
cast stealthy glances at her, and seeing her regular features, as if
carved out of stone, her sharply outlined brows, the dark down above
her lips, and the energetic, almost inflexible, expression of her face,
he thought that it would be much easier for a man who could arouse the
thoughts and feelings of such a girl to form various ties than later to
be able to free himself from them.