“But if it is true, my child; and what’s true, is true! A year ago—no! two years ago— Oh, how time flies!—”
But Pani Aneta, who had heard more than once, surely, what had happened at Nice, began to inquire of Marynia,—
“But have you many acquaintances in the world of artists?”
“My husband has,” answered Marynia, “I have not; but we know Pan Zavilovski.”
Pani Aneta fell into real enthusiasm at this news. It was her dream to know Zavilovski, and let “Yozio” say if it was not her dream. Not long before, she and Lineta had read his verses entitled “Ex imo;” and Lineta, who, at times, knows how to describe an impression with one word, as no one else can, said,—what is it that she said so characteristic?
“That there was in that something bronze-like,” added Pani Bronich.
“Yes, something bronze-like; I imagined to myself also Pan Zavilovski as something cast. How does he look in reality?”
“He is short, fat, fifty years old,” said Pan Stanislav, “and has no hair on his head.”
At this the faces of Pani Aneta and Lineta took on such an expression of disenchantment that Marynia laughed, and said,—
“Do not believe him, ladies; he is malicious, and likes to torment. Pan Zavilovski is young, somewhat shy, a little like Wagner.”