For a moment this overthrew all my self-possession. I rallied, however; tried to recollect what little Polish I had learned from my friend Krczinski, and made shift to answer—
"On a small landed property of my father, near Kwicziczwo."
"What was the name of this estate?"
"Krczinzicswo—the family estate of my relations."
"For a native Pole, you do not pronounce your own language remarkably well. To say the truth, you speak it rather like a German—How is this?"
"For many years I have spoken nothing but German. Even while in Cracow, I had much intercourse with German students, who wished to learn from me our difficult language. Unawares, I may have accustomed myself to their accent, as one finds it very easy, when living in particular districts of the country, to adopt provincialisms."
The judge here looked significantly on me. A slight smile passed over his features; and, turning to the secretary, he dictated to him something in a whisper, of which I could distinctly make out the words "visibly embarrassed." Hereupon I wished to say something farther, in excuse for my bad Polish, but the judge gave me no opportunity.
"Have you never been in Königswald, where there is a large Capuchin Convent?"
"Never."
"The way hither from Königsberg should have led you to that town."