“And to thee, beloved Professor, a happy journey and a successful mission!”
“And to thee, thy wish for thyself.”
“What do I wish?” asked Pan Stanislav, joyfully. “Well, so, half a dozen little missionaries.”
“Ah rogue! thou wert always a rogue!” answered Vaskovski. “But fly off, fly off; I will visit thee once more.”
Pan Stanislav flew out, sat on a droshky, and gave command to take him to the Plavitskis’. On the road he was arranging what to say to Marynia; and he prepared a little speech, partly sentimental, and partly sober, as befits a positive man who has found really that which he was seeking, but who also is marrying through reason. Evidently Marynia looked for him much later; for there was no light in the chamber, though the last gleam of twilight was quenched. Pan Stanislav, for a greeting, began to kiss both her hands, and, forgetting completely his wise introduction, asked in a voice somewhat uncertain and excited,—
“Have you received the flowers and the letter?”
“I have.”
“And did you guess why I sent them?”
Marynia’s heart beat with such force that she could not answer.
Pan Stanislav inquired further, with a still more broken voice,—