Lineta had not made a great impression on Pan Stanislav; besides, he was hungry and in a hurry for dinner, so he said somewhat impatiently,—
“What do you see in her? Interesting until she becomes an every-day subject.”
“No; Lineta will not become an every-day person,” said Marynia. “Only those ordinary, simple beings become every-day subjects who know how to do nothing but love.”
To Zavilovski, who looked at her that moment, it seemed that he detected a shade of sadness. Perhaps, too, she was weak, for her face had lily tones.
“Are you wearied?” inquired he.
“A little,” answered she, smiling.
His young, impressionable heart beat with great sympathy for her. “She is in truth a lily,” thought he; and in comparison with her sweet charm Pani Osnovski stood before him as a chattering nut-cracker, and Panna Castelli as the inanimate head of a statue. At first, after sight of Marynia, he was dreaming of a woman like her; this evening he began to dream, not of one like her, but of her. And since he was quickly aware of everything that happened in him, he noticed that she was beginning to be a “field flower,” but a beloved one.
Pan Stanislav, meeting him next day in the counting-room, asked,—
“Well, did the dreamy queen come to you in a vision?”
“No,” answered Zavilovski, blushing.