“But drops to the little one, if she wakes?” asked Pani Emilia.
“Another will give the drops; you will sleep. Good-night.” And he took farewell.
Pan Stanislav wished to follow him to inquire alone about Litka, but he thought that a longer talk of that kind might alarm Pani Emilia; hence he preferred to omit it, promising himself that in the morning he would go to the doctor’s house and talk there with him. After a while, when he was alone with Pani Emilia, he said,—
“Do as the doctor directed; you need rest. I promise to go to Litka’s room now, and I will not leave her the whole night.”
But Pani Emilia’s thoughts were all with the little girl; so, instead of an answer, she said to him directly,—
“Do you know, after the attack, she asked several times for you before she fell asleep. And for Marynia too. She fell asleep with the question, ‘Where is Pan Stas?’”
“My poor beloved child, I should have come anyhow right after dinner. I flew here barely alive. When did the attack begin?”
“In the forenoon. From the morning she was gloomy, as if foreboding something. You know that in my presence she says always that she is well; but she must have felt ill, for before the attack she sat near me and begged me to hold her hand. Yesterday, I forgot to tell you that she put such strange questions to me: ‘Is it true,’ inquired she, ‘that if a sick child asks for a thing it is never refused?’ I answered that it is not refused unless the child asks for something impossible. Some idea was passing through her head evidently, for in the evening, when Marynia ran in for a moment, she put like questions to us. She went to sleep in good humor, but this morning early she complained of stifling. It is lucky that I sent for the doctor before the attack, and that he came promptly.”
“It is the greatest luck that he went away with such certainty that the attack would not be repeated. I am perfectly sure that that is his conviction,” answered Pan Stanislav.
Pani Emilia raised her eyes: “The Lord God is so merciful, so good, that—”