“In that case Pan Mashko was not obliged to fight a duel with him.”
“In such matters,” answered Pan Stanislav, with a shade of impatience, “we have different ideas from ladies.”
“You will permit me to say a couple of words to my daughter.”
Pan Stanislav thought it time to rise and take farewell; but since he had come, as it were, on a reconnaissance, and wished to take some information to Mashko, he said,—
“If the ladies have any message to Pan Mashko, I am going to him directly.”
“In a moment,” answered Pani Kraslavski.
Pan Stanislav remained alone and waited rather long, so long indeed that he began to be impatient. At last both ladies appeared. Though her hair had not been dressed with sufficient care, the young lady, in a white chemisette and a sailor’s tie, seemed to Pan Stanislav quite beautiful, in spite of a slight inflammation of the eyes, and a few pimples on her forehead, which were powdered. There was about her a certain attractive languor, from which, having risen very late apparently, she had not been able yet to rouse herself, and a certain equally charming morning carelessness. For the rest, there was no emotion on her bloodless face.
After salutations were exchanged with Pan Stanislav, she said, with a cool, calm voice,—
“Be so kind as to tell Pan Mashko that I was greatly pained and alarmed. Is the wound really slight?”
“Beyond a doubt.”