From that day the closest intimacy was established between the Popèlski
mansion and the home of the Possessor. The girl, whose name was Evelyn,
came every day to the mansion, and in a short time she too became Uncle
Maxim’s pupil.
At first this plan of companionship in study did not meet with Pan
Yaskùlski’s approval. In the first place he thought that a woman needed
no more education than would enable her to keep a memorandum of the
soiled linen, and an account of her own expenses; in the second place
he was a good Catholic, and believed that Maxim had committed a sin in
fighting the Austrians in defiance of the clearly expressed admonition
of the “father-pope.” Finally he firmly believed that there was a God
in heaven, and that Voltaire and his followers were plunged in fiery
pitch,—a fate which also, as many believed, was in waiting for Pan Maxim.
However, as he grew to know him more intimately, he was obliged to admit
that this heretic and fighter was a very good-natured and clever man, and
so the Possessor compromised the matter.
“Let me tell you this, Vèlya,” he said, addressing his daughter, as he
was on the point of leaving her to take her first lesson from Maxim,
“never forget that there is a God in heaven and a Holy Father in Rome. I,
Valentine Yaskùlski, say this to you; and you must believe me, because I
am your father. That for _primo_. _Secundo_, I am a Polish nobleman, and
on my coat-of-arms, together with the hay-rick and the crow, is a cross
on an azure field. The Yaskùlskis were ever good knights, and at the same
time they were not ignorant concerning religious matters; and for that
reason also you must believe me. But in regard to all subjects relating
to _orbis terrarum_ you are to respect what Pan Maxim Yatzènko tells you,
and study faithfully.”
“Do not fear, Pan Valentine,” retorted Maxim, smiling, “we do not draft
little Panis into Garibaldi’s regiment.”