“That is something different. It is possible to be conquered, and not be a slipper. Do not hinder me in praising Marynia; I have succeeded in a way that could not be improved, and specially for this reason,—that she is satisfied with the feeling which I have for her, and has no wish to be my exclusive idol. For this I love her. God has guarded me from a wife demanding devotion of the whole soul, whole mind, whole existence; and I thank Him sincerely, since I could not endure such a woman. I understand more easily that all may be given of free will, and when not demanded.”
“Believe me, Pan Stanislav,” answered Pani Bigiel, “that in this regard we are all equally demanding; but at first we take frequently that part for the whole which they give us, and then—”
“And then what?” interrupted Pan Stanislav, rather jokingly.
“Then those who have real honesty in their hearts attain to something which for you is a word without meaning, but for us is often life’s basis.”
“What kind of talisman is that?”
“Resignation.”
Pan Stanislav laughed, and added, “The late Bukatski used to say that women put on resignation frequently, as they do a hat, because it becomes them. A resignation hat, a veil of light melancholy,—are they ugly?”
“No, not ugly. Say what you please; they may be a dress, but in such a dress it is easier to reach heaven than in another.”
“Then my Marynia is condemned to hell, for she will never wear that dress, I think. But you will see her in a moment, for she promised to come here after office hours. She is late, the loiterer; she ought to be here now.”
“Her father is detaining her, I suppose. But you will stay to dine with us, will you not?”