“What?” returned Marynia, in a low voice.
“Do I not understand, think you, whence that resolve came? She does not wish to violate her religious principles in any way, but she wants to die as soon as possible; she knows that those duties are beyond her strength, and therefore she assumes them.”
“True,” answered Marynia; and she inclined her face so closely to her work that Pan Stanislav saw only the parting of the dark hair on her small head. Before her stood a box full of pearls, which she was sewing on to various articles to be used in a lottery for benevolent purposes; and tears, which were flowing from her eyes, began to drop on those pearls.
“I see that you are weeping,” said Pan Stanislav.
She raised tearful eyes to him, as if to say, “Before thee I shall not hide tears,” and answered, “I know that Emilia is doing well, but such a pity—”
Pan Stanislav, partly from emotion, and partly because he knew not himself what to answer, kissed her hand for the first time.
Pearls began then to drop more thickly from Marynia’s eyes, so that she had to rise and go out. Pan Stanislav approached the players, as Plavitski was saying in a sour, outspoken tone, to his partner,—
“Rubicon after Rubicon. Ha! it is difficult. You represent new times, and I old traditions. I must be beaten.”
“What has that to do with piquet?” asked Bigiel, calmly.
Marynia returned soon, with the announcement that tea was ready; her eyes were somewhat red, but her face was clear and calm. When, a little later, Bigiel and Plavitski sat down at cards again, she conversed with Pan Stanislav in that quiet, confiding tone which people use who are very near to each other, and who have many mutual relations. It is true that those mutual relations between them had been created by the death of Litka and the misfortune of Pani Emilia,—hence the conversation could not be gladsome; but in spite of that, Marynia’s eyes, if not her lips, smiled at Pan Stanislav, and were at once thoughtful and clear.