As the spring season advanced, the two children at the dwór grew more and more excited. They were awaiting, with great impatience, the arrival of St. John's Eve, the 24th of June.
Marya was seated upon the stiff-looking sofa in the reception salon, while her brother Peter was looking through a book of photographs, depicting the celebration of the Wianki.
"Do you suppose mother will allow us to cast a wreath into the Vistula?" asked Peter, without looking up from his book, so intensely wrapped up was he in the illustrations.
"Certainly," Marya replied. "If we go to the celebration at all, we will be allowed to do as the others do. I shall ask her," Marya continued, "for it wouldn't be a bit of fun to go all the way to Cracow just to watch the others; I want some of the fun for myself."
"You don't imagine you will be allowed to go in search of the wonderful fern, do you, Marya?" the boy questioned.
"Why not? Of course I know I may not go alone, but I shall have Mademoiselle with me. It would be quite proper then, and Mademoiselle would enjoy it herself, I am sure. She has never seen the celebration, Peter, and she's just as crazy over it as we are. If sister Martha comes we will be allowed to go," the girl continued, "for she knows what it is to be shut off from every pleasure that even the commonest people have."
"Marya," warned Peter, in a low tone.
At the warning, the girl looked up. She saw her mother upon the threshold. She arose instantly from her seat upon the sofa and advanced toward her mother, saluting her with a kiss upon the cheek. Her brother did likewise, and together they gently led her toward the sofa and seated her, drawing up two chairs for themselves, so as to face her. But Marya did not seat herself by the side of her mother. It is a curious custom throughout Europe that the sofa is the seat of honor, to be occupied by the person highest in rank, and, while one may occupy a sofa when alone in the room, it is considered the height of impoliteness to seat one's self upon that sacred article of furniture when one of superior rank, or an elder, is in the room; therefore it was for this reason that the children placed their mother upon the sofa while they occupied chairs by her side.
"Now, children, listen," Mrs. Ostrowska said, as she gathered her two children to her. "You need not be a bit afraid that you will not enjoy yourselves in Cracow. I have promised to take you to the celebration of the Wianki, and you have looked forward to it for a long time with great expectation. You shall not be disappointed. We will forget everything for that night, and you may enter into all the sports of the people, if you choose. Even Marya, dear, if she wishes, may penetrate into the depths of the forest and search for the sacred fern which may blossom for her alone this year. Perhaps you may be the fortunate one to find it, Marya. What do you think?"
"I hope I shall," the girl replied. "But suppose Mademoiselle should become frightened and want to return?"