My aunt expressed a wish to depart. She is anxious to be back at
Ploszow, and says that her presence here is not necessary, and that
in fact we should get on better without her; that we should not be
obliged to consider her and could devote all our time to the portrait.
We all protested a little, and maintained that a lady of her years
ought not to travel alone. Though reluctantly, I considered it my duty
to offer my companionship. I confess that I awaited her reply with
a certain trepidation; but the dear old lady said, with great
liveliness:--
"Don't think of it even. Suppose Celina should fall ill again, who
would look after them, or accompany Aniela to the studio? She must not
go alone." She shook her finger playfully at Aniela, and with a frown
on her brow, and smiling mouth she added: "I don't quite trust that
painter, he looks at her more than his work requires; and she sees it
too and is pleased with it,--I know her little ways."
"But aunty, he is not a young man," said Aniela, laughingly kissing
her hands.
My aunt muttered: "Little coaxing rogue, he is not a young man, you
say? but he pays you compliments all the same. Leon, you must keep
your eye on them."
I relinquished the journey to Ploszow with delight, yielding to my
aunt's convincing reasons. Pani Celina insisted upon her taking the
maid, at least, who had gone with them to Gastein. My aunt refused at
first, but consented when Aniela pointed out that they would do very
well without a maid in the hotel. She gave orders at once to have her
things packed. She is very quick in her decisions and wants to go
to-morrow by an early train. I teased her during dinner, saying that
she liked her horses better than all of us together. "Foolish boy,"
she said, "don't talk nonsense;" then forgot herself, and began
soliloquizing about the horses. The sitting was a very long one
to-day. Aniela posed much better. The face is already laid in.