“Thou host consoled me; thou hast strengthened me. Let it be as God wills, but thou hast strengthened me. I confess to thee now that I wrote to Panna Ploshovski only to remind her that we were living. I asked her when the rent term of one of her estates would end; I had not, as thou knowest, the intention to take that place, but the excuse was a good one. May God reward thee for strengthening me! The present will may have been made before my letter. She went to Rome later; on the way she must have thought of my letter, and therefore of us; and, to my thinking, that is possible. God reward thee!”
After a while his face cleared up completely; all at once he laid his hand on Pan Stanislav’s knee, and, clicking with his tongue, cried,—
“Knowest what, my boy? Perhaps in a happy hour thou hast spoken; and might we not drink a small bottle of Mouton-Rothschild on account of this codicil?”
“God knows that I cannot,” said Pan Stanislav, who had begun to be a little ashamed of what he had said to the old man. “I cannot, and I will not.”
“Thou must.”
“‘Pon my word, I cannot. I have my hands full of work, and I will not befog my head for anything in the world.”
“A stubborn goat,—a regular goat! Then I will drink half a bottle to the happy hour.”
So he ordered it, and asked,—
“What hast thou to do?”
“Various things. Immediately after dinner I must be with Professor Vaskovski.”