LITMIR.BIZ

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toward him, and the friendly face of Pani Emilia, with the same feeling as if they had been his own family. And again that uncommon beauty of the young widow struck him, – her features, delicate to the verge of excess, her angelic expression of face, and her form perfectly maidenlike, dressed in black.

      “Farewell,” said Pani Emilia, “and write to us from Warsaw; we shall see each other in three weeks or sooner.”

      “In three weeks,” repeated Pan Stanislav. “I will write certainly. Till we meet again, Litus!”

      “Till we meet again! Bow from me to Evka and Yoasia.”

      “I will do so.”

      And he stretched out his hand through the window again:

      “Till our next meeting! Remember your friend.”

      “We will not forget; we will not forget. Do you wish me to repeat a novena for your intention?” asked Pani Emilia, smiling.

      “Thank you for that too. Do so. Till we meet again, Professor.”

      The train moved that moment. Pani Emilia and Litka waved their parasols till the more frequent puffing of the engine hid, with rolls of steam and smoke, the window through which Pan Stanislav was looking.

      “Mamma,” asked Litka, “is it really necessary to say a novena for Pan Stas?”

      “Yes, Litus. He is so kind to us, we must pray to God to make him happy.”

      “But is he unhappy?”

      “No – that is – seest thou, every one has trouble, and he has his.”

      “I know; I heard in Thumsee,” said the little girl. And after a while she added in a low voice, —

      “I will say a novena.”

      But Professor Vaskovski, who was so honest that he could not hold his tongue, said after a time to Pani Emilia, when Litka had gone forward, —

      “That is a golden heart, and he loves you both as a brother. Now that the specialist has assured us that there is not the least fear, I can tell everything. Pan Stanislav brought him here purposely, for he was alarmed about the little girl in Thumsee.”

      “Did he bring him?” asked Pani Emilia. “What a man!” And tears of gratitude came to her eyes. After a while she said, “But I will reward him, for I will give him Marynia.”

      Pan Stanislav went away with a heart full of good wishes and gratitude to Pani Emilia, for the man who has failed and for that reason falls into trouble, feels the friendship of people more keenly than others. Sitting in the corner of the compartment, with the image of Pani Emilia fresh in his mind, he said to himself, —

      “If I had fallen in love with her! What rest, what certainty of happiness! An object in life would have been found; I should know for whom I am working, I should know whose I am, I should know that my existence has some meaning. She says, it is true, that she will not marry, but me! – she might, who knows? That other is perfection, perhaps, but she may have a very dry heart.”

      Here he feels suddenly: “Still I can think calmly about Pani Emilia; while at every recollection of that other a certain unquiet seizes me, which is at once both bitter and agreeable. I am drawn by something toward that other. I have just pressed Pani Emilia’s hand, and that pressure has left no sensation; while even now I remember the warm palm of Marynia, and feel a certain species of quiver at the very thought of it.”

      As far as Salzburg, Pan Stanislav thought only of “that other.” This time his thoughts began to take the form, if not of resolves, at least of questions, – how is he to act toward her, and what in this state of affairs is his duty?

      “It is not to be denied that I caused the sale of Kremen,” said he to himself. “Kremen had for her not only the money value, which might perhaps have been drawn from it had the sale not been hastened, but also the value with which her heart was bound to the place. I have deprived her of both. Briefly speaking, I have wronged her. I have acted legally; but for a conscience made up of something more than paragraphs, that is not sufficient. I have offended her, I confess, and I must correct my fault in some way. But how? Buy Kremen from Mashko? I am not rich enough. I might perhaps do so by dissolving partnership with Bigiel and withdrawing all my capital; but that is materially impossible. Bigiel might fail, should I do that; hence I will not do it. There is one other way, – to keep up relations as best I can with Plavitski, and propose later on for the hand of his daughter. If rejected, I shall have done at least what behooves me.”

      But here that second internal man, of whom Pan Stanislav made mention, raised his voice and began, —

      “Do not shield thyself with a question of conscience. If Panna Plavitski were ten years older and ugly, thou mightst have caused in the same way the sale of Kremen, and taken from her everything which thou hast taken, and still it would not have come to thy head to ask for her hand. Tell thyself straightway that Panna Plavitski draws thee, as with nippers, by her face, her eyes, her lips, her arms, her whole person, and do not tempt thyself.”

      But, in general, Pan Stanislav held that second internal man firmly, and treated him sometimes with very slight ceremony. Following this method, he said to him, —

      “First, thou knowest not, fool, that even in that case I should not try to make good the injury. That at present I wish to make it good by proposing for the lady is natural. Men always ask to marry women who please them, not those for whom they feel repulsion. If thou hast nothing better to say, then be silent.”

      The internal man ventured a few more timid remarks, as, for instance, that Plavitski might give command to throw Pan Stanislav downstairs; that in the best case he might not permit him to cross the threshold. But somehow Pan Stanislav was not afraid of this. “People,” thought he, “do not use such means now; and if the Plavitskis do not receive me, so much the worse for them.”

      He admitted, however, that if they had even a little tact they would receive him. He knew that he would see Marynia at Pani Emilia’s.

      Meditating in this way, he arrived at Salzburg. There was one hour till the arrival of the train from Monachium, by which he was to go to Vienna; hence he decided to walk about the town. That moment he saw in the restaurant the bright-colored pea-jacket of Bukatski, his monocle, and his small head, covered with a still smaller soft cap.

      “Bukatski or his spirit!” cried he.

      “Calm thyself, Pan Stanislav,” answered Bukatski, phlegmatically, greeting him as if they had parted an hour before. “How art thou?”

      “What art thou doing here?”

      “Eating a cutlet.”

      “To Reichenhall?”

      “Yes. But thou art homeward?”

      “Yes.”

      “Thou hast proposed to Pani Emilia?”

      “No.”

      “Then I forgive thee. Thou mayst go.”

      “Keep thy conceits for a fitter season. Litka is in very great danger.”

      Bukatski grew serious, and said, raising his brows, – “Ai, ai! Is that perfectly certain?”

      Pan Stanislav told briefly the opinion of the doctor. Bukatski listened for a while; then he said, —

      “And is a man not to be a pessimist in this case? Poor child and poor mother! In the event of misfortune, I cannot imagine in any way how she will endure it.”

      “She is very religious; but it is terrible to think of this.”

      “Let us walk through the town a little,” said Bukatski; “one might stifle here.”

      They went out.

      “And a man in such straits is not to be a pessimist!” exclaimed Bukatski. “What is Litka? Simply a dove! Every one would spare her; but death will not spare her.”

      Pan Stanislav was silent.

      “I know not myself now,” continued Bukatski, “whether to go to Reichenhall

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