“She is in her twelfth year; she has grown beyond measure, and is pale. It does not seem that she is very healthy.”
“Do you visit Emilia often?”
“Rather often. She is almost my only acquaintance in Warsaw. Besides, I like Pani Emilia very much.”
“Tell me, my boy,” inquired Plavitski, taking a pair of fresh gloves from the table, and putting them into a breast-pocket, “what is thy particular occupation in Warsaw?”
“I am what is called an ‘affairist;’ I have a commission house in company with a certain Bigiel. I speculate in wheat and sugar, sometimes in timber; in anything that gives profit.”
“I have heard that thou art an engineer?”
“I have my specialty. But on my return I could not find occupation at any factory, and I began at mercantile transactions, all the more readily that I had some idea of them. But my specialty is dyeing.”
“How dost thou say?” inquired Plavitski.
“Dyeing.”
“The times are such now that one must take up anything,” said Plavitski, with dignity. “I am not the man to take that ill of thee. If thou wilt only retain the honorable old traditions of the family, no occupation brings shame to a man.”