“Art sleeping, child?” inquired she.
“No, mamma,” answered Litka.
CHAPTER XIV.
“I have never run after wealth,” said Plavitski; “but if Providence in its inscrutable decrees has directed that even a part of that great fortune should come to our hands, I shall not cross its path. Of this not much will come to me. Soon I shall need four planks and the silent tear of my child, for whom I have lived; but here it is a question of Marynia.”
“I would turn your attention to this,” said Mashko, coldly,—“that, first of all, those expectations are very uncertain.”
“But is it right not to take them into consideration?”
“Secondly, that Panna Ploshovski is living yet.”
“But sawdust is dropping out of the old woman. She is as shrivelled as a mushroom!”
“Thirdly, she may leave her property for public purposes.”