IV

Contrary to expectations, the doctor did not arrive that day, owing to

an unusual number of engagements and a few important operations which

he was compelled to perform without delay. Instead, he sent a young

hospital attendant, skilled in dressing wounds, with a letter in which

he requested Gronski to inform the ladies that they should consider his

postponed visit as proof that no danger actually threatened the wounded

man. Ladislaus, however was not pleased with this news, for the wounds

tormented him acutely; particularly the flesh torn by the bullet along

the ribs afflicted him painfully; and besides, his mother felt worse.

The asthmatic spell recurred, after which a general weakness followed,

so that notwithstanding her warmest wishes she was not able to rise

from her bed. Pani Otocka did not leave her for the entire day, and at

night her place was to be taken by Miss Anney, who, however, needing

rest after the recent events and, passing a sleepless night, was sent

to sleep by both sisters and Gronski. The role of the housekeeper of

Jastrzeb was assumed by Marynia, for she wanted by all means to be

useful, and was not permitted to attend to the patients. Instead, she

was intrusted with all the keys; the management of the house; with

conferring and taking an accounting with the cook whom she feared a

little and did not like, because he looked upon her as if she was a

child who was amusing herself rather than one upon whose shoulders

rested the responsibility of superintending everything. She adopted a

mien full of importance, but nevertheless "the dear gentleman," that is

Gronski, had to promise that he would be present, as if by chance, in

the room when the accounting was taking place.

As, after the arrival of the doctor on the third day, it appeared that

Ladislaus' condition was quite favorable and Pani Krzycki's asthmatic

spells were leaving her and her nerves were getting in order, the

general aspect of Jastrzeb became calmer and happier. Dolhanski began

to fill with a certain humor the role of a generalissimo of all the

armed forces of Jastrzeb while Gronski played the part of military

governor. The doctor brought with him a second nurse, who thenceforth

was to alternate with the one who came previously. This relieved the

ladies of the house of the necessity of continual watchfulness and

unnecessary fatigue. Ladislaus alone was dissatisfied with the

arrangement, for he understood that now Miss Anney would not pass days

and nights in his chamber, and that in all probability he would not see

her until he was able to leave his bed. In fact, it happened that way.

Several times during the day she would come to the anteroom, send

through the attendants whatever was needed, inquire about his health

and also send a "good-night" or "good-day" but would not enter the

room. Ladislaus sighed, swore quietly, and made life miserable for his

attendants, and when he learned from Dolhanski of the enthusiasm with

which the doctor spoke of Miss Anney he began to suspect him of

purposely sending the attendants in order to make it more difficult for

him to see her. His mother rose the fourth day and, feeling much

better, visited him daily and sat up with him for hours. Ladislaus

often asked himself the question whether she surmised his feelings.

They were indeed known to all the guests in the house, but there was a

possibility that she did not suspect anything, as for a considerable

time before the occurrence in the forest she did not, in truth, leave

her room; in consequence of which she seldom saw her son and Miss Anney

together. Krzycki often deliberated over the question whether he should

speak with his mother at once about it or defer the matter to a later

date. In favor of the first thought, there was the consideration that

his mother, while he lay in bed wounded, would not dare to interpose

any strenuous objections from fear that his condition might grow worse.

But on the other hand, such calculation, in which his beloved one and

the whole happiness of his life were involved, appeared to him that day

as miserable craftiness. He thought besides that to extort an assent

from his mother through his sickness would be something derogatory to

Miss Anney, before whom the doors of the Jastrzeb manor-house and the

arms of the entire family should be widely and joyfully opened. But he

was restrained by another consideration. And this was that,

notwithstanding the conversation he at one time had with Gronski,

notwithstanding the words he exchanged with the lady, notwithstanding

her solicitude, her sacrifices, and the courage with which she did not

hesitate to drive for the doctor, and finally notwithstanding the

visible marks of feeling which could be discerned in every glance she

bestowed upon him, Ladislaus doubted and did not dare to believe in his

own good fortune. He was young, inexperienced, in love not only up to

his ears but like a student; therefore full of alternating

uncertainties, hopes, joys, and doubts. He doubted also himself. At

times he felt at his shoulders wings, as it were, and in his soul a

desire for lofty flights; a latent ability to perform acts clearly

heroic; and at other times he thought: "Who am I, that such a flower

should fall upon my bosom? There are people who are endowed with

talent; who possess education; and others who have millions, and I,

what? I am a mere nobleman farmer, who will all his life dig the soil,

like a mole. Have I then the right to pinion to such a life, or rather

to confine in a sort of cage such a paradisiacal bird, which soars

freely across the firmament for the delectation and admiration of

mankind?" And he was seized by despair. But when he pictured to himself

that the moment might arrive when this paradisiacal bird might fly away

forever from him, then he looked upon it with amazement as if upon a

calamity which he did not deserve. He also had his hours of hope,

especially in the morning when he felt better and stronger. Then he

recalled everything that had taken place between them, from her first

arrival at Jastrzeb and his meeting her at Zarnowski's funeral until

that last night when he pressed her hand to his lips and gained greater

confidence. Why, at that time, she told him "not a word about anything

until the wounds are healed." Therefore through that alone she gave to

him the right to repeat to her that she was dearer to him than the

whole world and to surrender into her hands his fate, his future, and

his entire life. Let her do with them what she will.

In the meanwhile his mother will accustom herself to her, will grow

more intimate, and become more attached to her. And her maternal heart

is so full of admiration and gratitude for what Miss Anney had done for

him that from her lips fell the words "God sent her here." Ladislaus

smiled at the thought that his mother, however, ascribed the sacrifices

and courage of the young maiden not to any ardent feeling but to an

exceptionally honest heart, as well as to English training, which was

conducive to energy alike in men and women. And she had likewise

repeated to Pani Otocka several times that she would like to bring up

her Anusia to be such a brave woman; give her such strength, health,

and such love for her "fellow-men." Pani Otocka smiled also, hearing

these praises, and Ladislaus thought that Miss Anney perhaps would not

have done the same for her fellow-men, and this thought filled him with

happiness.

Eventually he became quite certain that his mother would consent to his

marriage with Miss Anney, but he was anxious as to how she would agree.

And in this regard he was much distressed. His mother, judged by former

requirements and conceptions, was a person of more than medium

education. She possessed high social refinement, read a number of

books, and was proficient in the French and Italian languages. During

her younger days she passed considerable time abroad, but only her

closest friends could tell how many national and hereditary prejudices

were concealed in her and to what extent all that was not Polish,

particularly if it did not of necessity come from France, appeared to

her peculiar, outlandish, strange, and even shocking. This appeared

accidentally once before the attack upon Ladislaus when she saw Miss

Anney's English prayer-book and, opening it, noticed a prayer beginning

with "Oh Lord." Belonging to a generation which did not study English,

and having lived in retirement for many years in Jastrzeb, Pani Krzycki

could not imagine the Lord other than a being with yellow whiskers,

dressed in checkered clothes, and to Marynia's great amusement could

not by any means understand how the Divinity could be thus addressed.

In vain Ladislaus explained to her that in the French and Polish

languages analogical titles are given to God. She regarded that as

something different, and exacted a promise from Miss Anney that she

would pray from a Polish book, which she promised to buy for her.

Finally the fact that Miss Anney was not in all probability a member of

the nobility would play an important part. Ladislaus feared that his

mother, having consented to the marriage, might in the depths and

secrecy of her soul, deem it a mesalliance. This thought irritated and

depressed him immeasurably and was one of the reasons why he postponed

his consultation with his mother until their arrival in Warsaw.

He was angered yet more at his enforced confinement in his bed; so that

for three days he declared each evening that he would rise the

following morning, and when on the fourth day Miss Anney and Marynia

said to him through the doorway, "Good-day," he actually did get up,

but in his weakened condition, he suffered from dizziness and was

forced to lie down again. He was steadily improving, however; he

continued to sigh more and more and felt his inactivity most keenly.

"I have got enough of this loquacious doctor," he said to Gronski,

"enough of dressings and iodoform. I envy not only you, sir, but even

Dolhanski, who is roaming about on my horses all over creation, and

very likely reaches as far as Gorek."

"He does," answered Gronski gayly, "and this leads me to think that he

makes a mystery of it, for he has ceased to talk about those ladies."

This was but a half truth for Dolhanski did actually go to Gorek but

did not remain entirely silent about the ladies, for returning the next

day, he entered Ladislaus' room, bearing with him still the odor of the

horse, and said:

"Imagine to yourself that the Wlocek ladies received a command from

some kind of committee from under a dark star to pay under the penalty

of death one thousand roubles for 'party' purposes."

"There you have it!" cried Gronski. "Now that is becoming an every-day

occurrence. Who knows whether similar commands are not awaiting us upon

our desks in Warsaw?"

"Well, what of it?" asked Ladislaus.

"Nothing," answered Dolhanski; "those ladies first argued as to who was

to first expose her breast to shield the other; then fainted; after

that they came to, then began to bid each other farewell, and finally

asked me my advice as to what was to be done."

"And what advice did you give them?"

"I advised them to tell the executors of the command, who would come

for the money, that their plenipotentiary and treasurer, Pan Dolhanski,

resided at such and such address in Warsaw."

"Really, did you advise them to do that?"

"I give you my word."

"In such a case, they will undoubtedly call upon you."

"You can imagine what rich booty they will get! I also will have some

recreation in these tedious times."

"Pardon me," said Gronski, "the times are trying; that is certain, but

no one can say that they are tedious."

"But for whom?" answered Dolhanski. "If I ever borrow money from you,

then I will have to conform to your inclination, but before that time

you cannot draw me into any political discussion. In the meantime I

will only tell you this much, that I am the only social microbe that

can remain at perfect peace. All that I require is that 'bridge' should

be going normally at the club and soon this will be impossible. These

times may be interesting to you but not for me."

"At any rate," observed Gronski, "a certain ventilation of torpid

conditions is taking place, and since you compared yourself to a

microbe, by the same token, you admit that these are times for

disinfection."

At this Dolhanski turned to Ladislaus.

"Thank Gronski," he said, "for the disinfection started with you; from

which the plain inference is to be drawn that you are a more harmful

microbe than I am."

"Get married, get married," answered Ladislaus banteringly; "for you, a

good marriage settlement would be the best cure for pessimism."

"That may be possible, as in that case, I may have something with which

I can leave this dear country and settle elsewhere. I once told you

that Providence speaks through the lips of little innocents. But I

should have thought of marriage when in the perspective there were no

Goreks, but instead, four million franks."

"Did you have such an opportunity?"

"As you see me here. It happened in Ostend; an old Belgian relict of a

manufacturer of preserves, and having cash to the amount specified,

wanted to marry me and that for the waiting."

"And what?"

"And nothing. I remember what Pan Birkowski, who at that time was in

Ostend, told me. 'Do business,' he said. 'At the worst, you may leave

the old woman two millions and leave her in the lurch, and you can take

two millions with you and enjoy yourself like a king.'"

"And what did you say to that?"

"And I said this to that: What is that? Am I to give from my own

hard-earned money two millions to an ugly old woman? For nothing! And

now I think that for a mere quibble, I permitted a fortune to slip away

from me and that the time may come when owing to a 'retirement from

business' I will have to sacrifice myself for a smaller price."

Gronski and Ladislaus began to laugh, but Dolhanski, who spoke with

greater bitterness than they supposed, shrugged his shoulders and said:

"Amuse yourselves, amuse yourselves. One of you already has received a

taste of the times and the other, God grant, will not escape so easily.

Nice times, indeed! Chaos, anarchy, political orgy, lack of any kind of

authority, the dance of dynamite with the knout, and the downfall of

'bridge.' And you laugh!"

V

Nevertheless that which Dolhanski said about a want of any kind of

authority appeared to be not exactly the truth, for, after an interval

of one week, the authorities did give signs of life.

An imposing armed force, together with gendarmes and police, made its

appearance.

Of course the perpetrators of the attempt upon Krzycki did not wait a

whole week for the arrival at Jastrzeb of a military relief, as they

evidently had engagements in other parts of the county. As a result the

Jastrzeb, as well as the Rzeslewo, forests appeared to be deserted.

In lieu of this, about a score of men in Jastrzeb, itself, were placed

under arrest. Among these were the two forest rangers, the old coachman

who was wounded at the time of the attack, and all the workingmen at

the sawmill.

In the manor-house all the passports were verified with exceeding care,

reports were written, and the host, hostess, and guests, not excluding

the ladies, were subjected to a strict examination.

From these examinations it developed that in reality they did not come

on account of the attempt upon the proprietor of Jastrzeb, but for the

purpose of apprehending a dangerous revolutionist, a certain Laskowicz,

who, according to the most reliable information secured by the police,

was hiding in Jastrzeb and was shielded by its denizens.

The declaration of the Krzyckis to the police, that in due season the

passport of Laskowicz was forwarded, and if Laskowicz had left the city

he must have received it, as well as the assurances of all present that

Laskowicz was not in Jastrzeb did not find any credence.

The authorities were too experienced and shrewd to believe such

nonsense and they detected in them "an evil design, and want of

sincerity and cordial candor."

The house also was subjected to a most painstaking search, beginning in

the garret and ending in the cellar. They knocked on the walls to

ascertain whether there were any secret hiding places. They searched

among the dresses and linen of the women; in the hearth, under the

divans, in the drawers, in the boxes for phenicine pastilles, which

Gronski brought with him; and finally in the manor outbuildings, in the

mangers of the stable, in the milk churners, in the tar-boxes, and even

in the beehives, whose inmates, undoubtedly being permeated with the

evil-disposition prevalent in Jastrzeb, resisted the search in a manner

as evil disposed as it was painful.

But as the search, notwithstanding its thoroughness and the

intelligence with which it was conducted, was not productive of any

results, they took a hundred and some tens of books, the farm register,

the entire private correspondence of the hosts as well as the guests,

the bone counters used in playing cards, a little bell with a

Napoleonic figure, a safety razor, a barometer, and, notwithstanding

the license which Krzycki possessed, all the fowling pieces, not

excepting a toy-gun with which corks were shot and which belonged to

little Stas.

Ladislaus himself would have been undoubtedly arrested as an

accomplice, if the doctor, who treated the captain for his heart

trouble, had not arrived and if Dolhanski, growing impatient beyond all

endurance, had not shown the captain a message before sending it to the

city. It was addressed to the highly influential general W., with whom

Dolhanski played whist at the club, and it complained of the brutality

and the arbitrariness of the search.

This to a considerable extent cooled off the ardor of the captain and

his subordinates, who previously, at the scrutiny of the passports, had

learned that Dolhanski was a member of the club.

In this manner Ladislaus preserved his liberty, supplemented by police

surveillance, and little Stas regained his toy-gun for shooting corks.

The captain could not return the arms as he had peremptory orders in

black and white to confiscate even the ancient fowling-pieces of the

whole community.

"Doux pays! Doux pays!" cried Dolhanski after the departure of the

police. "Revolvers now can be found only in the hands of the bandits.

In view of this I will submit to a demission as the commander-in-chief

of the Jastrzeb armed forces, land as well as naval. We are now

dependent upon the kindness or unkindness of fate."

"Go to Warsaw, ladies and gentlemen, to-morrow," said the doctor; "here

there is no joking."

"Let us go to Warsaw," repeated Dolhanski, "and, not losing any time,

enroll in the ranks of the believers in expropriation. I regard social

revolutionists as the only insurance association in this country which

does really insure."

"From accidents," added Krzycki; "and we shall insure with my personal

friend and 'accomplice' Laskowicz."

To this Dolhanski replied:

"That accomplice gave you a payment on account. In the future you will

receive yet more."

To Gronski's mind came thoughts of the personal enmity of the young

medical student to Krzycki and the letter of Laskowicz to Marynia, of

which he among the men in Jastrzeb alone knew.

It was quite probable that Laskowicz saw in Ladislaus a rival and

future aspirant for the hand of Panna Marynia who, besides, had nipped

in the bud his work in Rzeslewo and that he might have thought that he

actually could gratify his hatred from personal consideration, and in

the name of the "cause."

Laskowicz, himself, in his own way, might have been an honest man, but

the party ethics were, in relation to the antiquated morality,

revolutionary, and sanctioned such things.

But at present there was not much time to ponder over that; so after a

while Gronski waved his hand and said:

"Whether or not the hand of Laskowicz is imbrued in this the future

will show. Now we must think of something else. I assert positively

that I will take away my ladies from here, but I wish that the entire

Jastrzeb family would follow my example."

After which, he addressed the doctor.

"Would it be safe for Ladislaus to travel to-morrow?"

"He? Even as far as England," answered the doctor.

Gronski and Dolhanski laughed at these words but Ladislaus blushed like

a student and said:

"It will be necessary to inform the ladies."

"And to-morrow the general exodus will take place," added Gronski.

And he went to the ladies, who received the news of the decision with

evident relief. Both sisters decided to have Pani Krzycki at their

residence in Warsaw, but she, desiring to be with her son, would not

accept the invitation; and only consented when Gronski announced that

he would take Ladislaus to his home and guaranteed that he should not

suffer for want of care and comfort. Miss Anney, whose apartments were

directly opposite to those of Pani Otocka also offered her rooms for

the use of the younger members of the Krzycki family and their female

teachers. In the meanwhile the doctor permitted Ladislaus to get up, so

that he would not have to start on his journey directly from his bed.

In the evening the entire company assembled on the garden veranda.

There was missing only Dolhanski who rode off to Gorek, for he had

decided to advise Pani Wlocek and Panna Kajetana to remove to the city

likewise. Ladislaus, after a considerable loss of blood and a somewhat

lengthy confinement in bed, looked pale and miserable, but his

countenance had acquired a more subtile expression and actually become

handsome. At the present time the ladies were occupied with him, as an

invalid, with extraordinary watchfulness. He was a person who attracted

general sympathy; therefore, though from time to time his eyes grew

dim, he assured his mother that it was well with him, and he really was

delighted to breathe the fresh evening air. At times he was overcome by

a light drowsiness. Then he closed his eyelids and the conversation

hushed, but when he opened them again he saw directed towards himself

the eyes of his mother and, illuminated by the setting sun, the young

faces of the ladies, which appeared to him simply angelic. He was

surrounded by love and friendship; therefore it was well with him. His

heart surged with feelings of gratitude, and at the same time with

regret that those good Jastrzeb days would soon end. In his soul he

cherished a hope that he would not be absent from Jastrzeb long, and

promised himself a speedy return, and he promised this with all the

strength with which a person craves happiness. Nevertheless, the times

were so strange, so uncertain, and so many things might happen which it

was impossible to foresee, that involuntarily a fear generated in his

heart as to what turn the current of events would take; what the future

of the country would be, and what, in a year or two, would become of

Jastrzeb, which, indeed, became precious to him for it opened before

him the portals, beyond which he beheld the great brightness of

happiness. Love, as well as a bird, needs a nest. So Ladislaus plainly

could not conceive of himself and the light-haired lady being anywhere

else than at Jastrzeb. For this, his heart beat with redoubled force,

when glancing at her, he indulged in fancies and imagined that perhaps

after a year, or sooner, she will sit upon the same veranda, as the

lady of the house and as his wife. Then he turned towards her and asked

her with his soul and eyes: "Dost thou guess and perceive my thoughts?"

But she, perhaps because she was restrained by the presence of so many

witnesses, did not reply to his glances; sitting as if immersed in

thought and letting her gaze follow the swallows, which flitted so

nimbly above the trees of the garden and the pond. Ladislaus, when he

now looked at her was impressed, as if with certain admiration, at the

contrast between her full-grown form, powerful arms, and well developed

bosom and her small, girlish face. But he saw in all this only a new

charm and spell under whose powers there flew at times through his love

a burning desire similar indeed to pain and stifling the breath in his

breast.

In the meantime the sun sank measurably and began to bathe in the ruddy

evening twilight. From the freshly mown lawns came a strong fragrance

of the little hay heaps, which were warmed by the daily summer heat.

Somehow the air with the approach of night became more bracing, for,

from the alder-trees bordering on the pond, came from time to time a

cool breath, so weak and light, however, that the leaves on the trees

did not stir. The swallows described curves higher and higher above the

reddened surface of the pond. In the lofty poplars with trimmed tops a

stork clattered in his nest, now stooping with his head backward and

then lowering it as if bowing to the setting sun or officiating at the

evening vespers.

"I will play something as a farewell to Jastrzeb," Marynia suddenly

announced.

"Ah, beloved creature!" said Gronski; "shall I go for the stand and

notes?"

"No. I will play something from memory."

And saying this, she handed to Miss Anney an album with views of

Jastrzeb, and hurried upstairs. In a short time she returned with her

violin. For a time she kept it propped on her shoulder and raising her

eyes upwards, considered what she should play. She selected Schumann's

"Ich grolle nicht." The overflowing tones filled the quiet of the

garden. They began to sing, muse, long, and weep; oscillate, hush, and

slumber, and with them the human soul acted in unison. Sorrow became

more melancholy, yearning more longing, and love more tender and deeply

enamoured. And "the little divinity" continued playing--white in her

muslin dress--calm, with pensive eyes lost somewhere in the illimitable

distance, immaculate, and as if borne to heaven by music and her own

playing. To Gronski it seemed that he had before him some kind of

mystic lily, and he began in his soul to say to her, as it were, a

litany, in which every word was a worship of the little violinist,

because she was playing and she awoke in him a love as destitute of the

slightest earthly dross as if she were not a maiden composed of blood

and flesh, but in reality some kind of mystic lily.

Marynia had ceased to play and her hand, with the violin, hung at her

side. No one thanked her; no one uttered a word, for the strains of

that music lingered with all and, echo-like, it was yet playing within

them. Pani Otocka unwittingly drew nearer to Gronski as if they were

attracted towards each other by their mutual worship of this beloved

child. In Pani Krzycki's eyes glittered tears, which under the spell of

the music were contributed and provoked by memories of former years and

the present suffering of her son and fresh worries about him, and the

uncertainty of the future. Miss Anney sat in reverie, holding

unknowingly between her knees the album, which during Marynia's playing

had dropped from her hands; and through the open doors, in the already

dimmed depths of the salon, could be seen the indistinct form of a

woman, who evidently also was listening to the music.

A somewhat stronger breeze which blew from the alder-trees awoke all,

as if from a half-dream. Then Pani Krzycki turned towards her son:

"A chill is coming from the pond. Perhaps you may wish to return to

your room."

"No," he answered, "I feel better than I have felt for a long time."

And he began to assure her that he did not feel any chill and

afterwards appealed to the doctor, who, lulled to sleep by the music,

could not at once understand what was the matter.

"Can Laudie remain?" asked Pani Krzycki.

"He can, he can; only as soon as the sun disappears, it will be

necessary to cover him better."

Afterwards the doctor looked at his watch and added:

"It is time for me to go, but I have had so few evenings like this that

it is a hardship to leave. As God sees, it is a hardship."

And here he began to rub his fatigued brow with the palm of his hand.

Pani Krzycki and Ladislaus declared that they would not permit him to

leave before supper. The doctor again looked at his watch, but before

he could make any reply there appeared upon the veranda the same

feminine figure that had been listening to the music in the depths of

the parlor, but this time with two plaids upon her arm.

"Is that you, Pauly?" said Miss Anney. "Ah, how sensible you are."

And Panna Pauly began to cover Ladislaus with the plaids. She placed

one over his shoulders and the other around his limbs. In doing this

she knelt and bent in such a way that for a moment her breast rested on

Krzycki's knee.

"Thank you, little Miss, thank you," he said, somewhat confused.

She glanced quickly into his eyes and then left without a word.

"But I have taken your plaids," Ladislaus said addressing Miss Anney.

"That does not matter. I am dressed warmly. Only, you, sir, will have

to take care that the wounded shoulder is well covered."

And approaching him, she began to push lightly and carefully a corner

of the plaid between the back of the chair and his shoulder.

"I am not hurting you?" she asked.

"No, no. How can I thank you?"

And he looked at her with such enamoured eyes that for the first time

it occurred to his mother that there might be something more than

gratitude in this.

She glanced once or twice at Pani Zosia's delicate countenance, and

sighed, and her heart was oppressed with fear, disquiet, and regret.

This was her ideal for her son; this was her secret fancy. She, indeed,

had fallen in love with her whole soul with the young Englishwoman, and

if foreign blood did not course in her veins, she would not have had

any objections, but nevertheless this first fleeting suspicion that the

structure, which she, in her soul, had erected from the moment she

became intimate with Zosia, might crumble, was to her immeasurably

disagreeable. For a time she felt, as it were, a dislike for Miss

Anney. She determined also from that moment to observe them both more

carefully, and to speak with Gronski.

But in the further course of the evening her hopes revived, for when

the company returned to the salon it seemed to her after a time that

what she had seen on the veranda was an illusion. In fact that day did

not end for Ladislaus and Miss Anney as serenely as the setting sun had

augured. A cooler wind blew between them, and Pani Krzycki could not

know that the reason for it, on the part of her boy, was jealousy. Miss

Anney, after the return to the parlor, began, on the side, a

conversation with the doctor which continued so long that Ladislaus

became irritated. He observed that she spoke not only with animation,

but also with a desire to please. He saw the brightened visage of the

doctor, from which it was easy to read that the conversation afforded

him sincere pleasure, and a serpent stung Ladislaus' heart. He could

not overhear what Miss Anney was saying. It seemed to him only that she

was urging something. On the other hand, the doctor could not speak so

quietly, but to Krzycki's eavesdropping ears from time to time came

such fragmentary expressions as "I intended to do that, only after a

week"; "Ha!" "Some may object"; "If that is the case, very well"; "It

is well known how England conquers"; "Good, good."

Ladislaus decided with all possible coolness to ask Miss Anney whom

England had now subjugated and whether the newspapers had made any

mention of it, but when Miss Anney and the doctor at the conclusion of

their tete-a-tete had rejoined the rest of the company, he changed his

plan and, with the offended dignity of a schoolboy who is ready not

only to spite those dear to him but also himself, he determined to

cover himself with the cloak of indifference. With this view he turned

to Zosia and began to inquire about the Zalesin estate and begged her

permission to inspect it; and she told him that it would give her great

pleasure. He thanked her so warmly that his mother was led into an

error. Miss Anney tried several times to participate in the

conversation, but receiving from him indifferent replies, surprised and

slightly touched, began to listen to what Gronski was saying.

After supper the doctor announced that he would have to leave. For a

while he spoke with Gronski, and then took his leave of the ladies,

repeating, "Until to-morrow; at the railway station." He advised

Ladislaus to return immediately to his room and secure a good rest

before proceeding on his journey. Gronski, after escorting the doctor

to the gate, accompanied Ladislaus to his room, and when they found

themselves alone, perceiving his mien and easily surmising the cause

asked: "What ails you? You are so agreeable."

And Krzycki answered with some irritation: "I am still feeling weak;

otherwise I am as usual."

But Gronski shrugged his shoulders.

"These," said he, "are the usual misunderstandings of lovers, but you,

above all, are a child and caused her unpleasantness. And do you know

what for? Simply because she urged Szremski to accompany you to

Warsaw."

Ladislaus' heart quivered, but he put a good face on a bad matter and

would not yet be reconciled.

"I do not feel at all weak and can get along without his assistance."

To this Gronski replied:

"Good-night to you and your logic."

And he left the room.

But Ladislaus when he was undressed and in bed, suddenly felt tears

welling in his eyes and began with extraordinary tenderness to beg

pardon of--the pillow.