“The arrival of Gantovski must be pleasing to you,” said Pan Stanislav, all at once, “for it brings Kremen to your mind.”
Astonishment flashed over Marynia’s face that he was the first to mention Kremen. She had supposed that, in virtue of a tacit agreement, he would cover that question with silence.
“I think no more now of Kremen,” answered she, after a pause.
This statement was not true, for in her heart’s depth she was sorry for the place in which she had been reared,—the place of her labor for years, and of her shattered hopes; but she thought herself forced to speak thus by duty, and by the feeling for Pan Stanislav, which was increasing continually.
“Kremen,” added she, with a voice of some emotion, “was the cause of our earliest quarrel; and I wish now for concord, concord forever.”
While saying this, she looked into Pan Stanislav’s eyes with a coquetry full of sweetness, which a bad woman is able to put on at any time, but an honest woman only when she is beginning to love.
“She is wonderfully kind,” thought he. Straightway he added aloud, “You might have a fabulous weapon against me, for you might lead me to perdition with kindness.”
“I do not wish to lead you to that,” replied she.
And in sign that she did not, she began to shake her dark, shapely head laughingly; and Pan Stanislav looked at her smiling face, and her mouth a trifle too large, and said mentally,—
“Whether I love her, or love her not, no one attracts me as she does.”