CHAPTER XVIII.
ANTEK, who in reality has a soft heart, is won over evidently. For a week he goes to the Suslovskis regularly; for three days he walks around me, frowns, looks at me just like a wolf.
At last one day at tea he inquires peevishly, "Well, what dost thou think of doing with that girl?"
"With what girl?"
"With that Suslovski, or what is her name?"
"I don't think of doing anything with that Suslovski, or what is her name."
A moment of silence follows, then Antek speaks again,—
"She is whining whole days, till I cannot look at her."
What an honest soul! At that moment too his voice trembles with emotion; but he snorts like a rhinoceros and adds, —
"A decent man does not act in that fashion."
"Antek, thou art beginning to remind me of Papa Suslovski."
"I would rather remind thee of Papa Suslovski than wrong his daughter."
"I beg thee to drop me."
"Very well! I can even not know thee at all."
With this, the conversation ends, and thenceforth I do not speak to Antek.
We pretend not to know each other, which is the more amusing since we live together. We drink tea together in the morning, and it never occurs to either of us to move out of the studio.
The time of my marriage is approaching. Through the intermediary of "The Kite" all Warsaw knows of that now. All look at us; all admire Eva. When we were at the exhibition, they surrounded us so that we could not push through.
My unknown friendess sends an anonymous letter in which she warns me that Eva is not the wife for a man like me.
"I do not believe what is said of the relations between Panna Adami and Pan Ostrynski [writes my friendess]; but thou, O master, art in need of a wife who would devote herself altogether to thy greatness; Panna Adami is an artist herself, and will always be drawing water to her own mill."
Antek goes continually to the Suslovskis, but surely as a comforter, for the Suslovskis must know of my intentions.
I have obtained an unlimited leave of absence for Eva. She begins to wear her hair as a village maiden; she dresses very modestly and wears robes closed to the neck. This becomes her very much. The scene in the dressing-room has not been repeated. Eva does not permit it. The utmost right I have is to kiss her hands. That makes me greatly impatient; but I flatter myself that it affects her in the same way.
She loves me madly. We spend whole days together. I have begun to give her lessons in drawing. She is swallowed up in those lectures, and painting in general.