“His former manners have remained with him,” thought Pan Stanislav, who felt now an aversion to that surly fellow.
Meanwhile Plavitski returned from Yamish’s carriage.
“Hast taken notice?” asked he of Pan Stanislav, first of all. “Well, Gantos,” said he then, “thou wilt go in thy brichka, for in the carriage there are only two places.”
“I will go in the brichka, for I am taking a dog to Panna Marynia,” answered the young man, who bowed and walked off.
After a while Pan Plavitski and Pan Stanislav found themselves on the road to Kremen.
“This Gantovski is uncle’s relative, I suppose?” asked Pan Stanislav.
“The tenth water after a jelly. They are very much fallen. This Adolph has one little farm and emptiness in his pocket.”
“But in his heart there is surely no emptiness?”
Pan Plavitski pouted. “So much the worse for him, if he imagines anything. He may be good, but he is simple. No breeding, no education, no property. Marynia likes him, or rather she endures him.”
“Ah, does she endure him?”