In fact, Plavitski did not lie. He had an instinctive respect for property, and that young man, who was gaining it, roused in him a certain admiration, bordering on sympathy. He was not some poor relative who might ask for assistance; and therefore Plavitski, though for the moment he had no calculations in regard to Pan Stanislav, resolved to keep up relations with him. At the end of the visit he began to look around on the apartments.
“Thou hast fine lodgings!” said he.
That, too, was true. Pan Stanislav had a dwelling furnished as if he were about to marry. The furnishing itself caused him pleasure, for it gave a certain show of reality to his wishes.
Plavitski, looking around at the drawing-room, beyond which was another smaller apartment furnished very elegantly, inquired,—
“Why not marry?”
“I will when I can.”
Plavitski smiled cunningly, and, patting Pan Stanislav on the knee, began to repeat,—
“I know whom; I know whom.”
“Wit is needed in this case!” cried Pan Stanislav; “try to keep a secret from such a diplomat.”
“Ah ha! whom? The widow, the widow—whom?”