Plavitski stepped back a little and inquired, “What dost thou say?”
“I say,” answered she, looking quietly into his eyes, “that Pan Stanislav wishes to take me, and that I am very happy.”
Pan Stanislav approached, embraced Plavitski heartily, and said, “I do with uncle’s consent and permission.”
But Plavitski exclaimed, “Oh, my child!” and, advancing with tottering step to a sofa, he sat on it heavily. “Wait a moment,” said he, with emotion. “It will pass—do not mind me—my children! If that is needed, I bless you with my whole heart.”
And he blessed them; wherewith still greater emotion mastered him, for, after all, he loved Marynia really. The voice stuck in his throat repeatedly; and the two young people heard only such broken expressions as, for example, “Some corner near you—for the old man, who worked all his life—an only child—an orphan.”
They pacified him together, and pacified him so well that half an hour later Plavitski struck Pan Stanislav on the shoulder suddenly, and said,—
“Oh robber! Thou wert thinking of Marynia, and I was thinking thee a little—” He finished the rest in Pan Stanislav’s ear, who grew red with indignation, and answered,—
“How could uncle suppose such a thing? If any one else had dared to say that?”
“Well, well, well!” answered Plavitski, smiling; “there is no smoke without fire.”
That evening Marynia, taking farewell of Pan Stanislav, asked,—