“I will lay a wager that thou hast never thought of it,” retorted Bukatski.
But Pan Stanislav was glad and proud of that interest which Marynia roused in the famous artist; hence he said,—
“If it would give you any pleasure to paint her portrait, it would give me much more to have it.”
“From the soul of my heart,” answered Svirski, with simplicity; “but I am going to Rome to-day. There I have begun the portrait of Pani Osnovski.”
“And we shall be in Rome no later than ten days from now.”
“Then we are agreed.”
Marynia returned thanks, blushing to her ears. But Bukatski began to take farewell, and drew Svirski after him. When they had gone out, he said,—
“We have time yet. Come to Floriani’s for a glass of cognac.”
Bukatski did not know how to drink, and didn’t like spirits; but since he had begun to take morphine, he drank more than he could endure, because some one had told him that one neutralized the other.
“What a delightful couple those Polanyetskis are!” said Svirski.