For some months we are in Warsaw.
I have fitted up a splendid studio. We visit the Ostrynskis rather
frequently. He has sold "The Kite," and is now "President of the Society
for Distributing Barley Grits to Laborers out of Employment." Nothing
can give an idea of his lordliness or the gratitude with which he is
surrounded. He pats me on the shoulder and says to me: "Well,
benefactor!" He patronizes literary talents also, and receives on
Wednesdays.
She is as beautiful as a dream. They have no children.