“Marynia is not coming,” said he; “what a loiterer!”
But the “loiterer” came at that moment, or rather, drove up. The greeting was not effusive, for she had seen the Bigiels at the railway. Pan Stanislav told his wife that they would stay to dine, to which she agreed willingly, and fell to greeting the children, who rushed into the room in a swarm.
Now came Zavilovski, whom Bigiel presented to Pan Stanislav and Marynia. He was a man still young,—about seven or eight and twenty. Pan Stanislav, looking at him, considered that in every case his mien was not that of a man who had suffered much; he was merely ill at ease in a society with which he was more than half unacquainted. He had a nervous face, and a chin projecting prominently, like Wagner’s, gladsome gray eyes, and a very delicate forehead, whiter than the rest of his face; on his forehead large veins formed the letter Y. He was, besides, rather tall and somewhat awkward.
“I have heard,” said Pan Stanislav to him, “that in three days you will be our associate.”
“Yes, Pan Principal,” answered the young man; “or rather, I shall serve in the office.”
“But give peace to the ‘principal,’” said Pan Stanislav, laughing. “With us it is not the custom to use the words ‘grace,’ or ‘principal’ unless perchance such a title would please my wife by giving her importance in her own eyes. But listen, Pani Principaless,” said he, turning to Marynia, “would it please thee to be called principaless? It would be a new amusement.”
Zavilovski was confused; but he laughed too, when Marynia answered,—
“No; for it seems to me that a principaless ought to wear an enormous cap like this” (here she showed with her hands how big), “and I cannot endure caps.”
It grew pleasanter for Zavilovski in the joyous kindness of those people; but he was confused again when Marynia said,—
“You are an old acquaintance of mine. I have read nothing of late, for we have just returned home; has anything appeared while we were gone?”