“Emilia loves me much,” answered Marynia, with simplicity; “that is why she praises me. Even if what she says were true, I will add that I have not the power to be such with all persons.”
“You made on me, yesterday, another impression, indeed; but you were tired then and drowsy.”
“I was, in some degree.”
“And why did you not go to bed? The servants might have made tea for me, or I might have done without it.”
“No; we are not so inhospitable as that. Papa said that one of us should receive you. I was afraid that he would wait himself for you, and that would have injured him; so I preferred to take his place.”
“In that regard thou mightst have been at ease,” thought Pan Stanislav; “but thou art an honest maiden to defend the old egotist.” Then he said, “I beg your pardon for having begun to speak of business at once. That is a mercantile habit. But I reproached myself afterward. ‘Thou art this and that kind of man,’ thought I; and with shame do I beg your pardon.”
“There is no cause for pardon, since there is no fault. They told you that I occupy myself with everything; hence you turned to me.”
Twilight spread more deeply by degrees. After a certain time they returned to the house, and, as the evening was beautiful, they sat down on the garden veranda. Pan Stanislav entered the drawing-room for a moment, returned with a footstool, and, bending down, pushed it under Marynia’s feet.
“I thank you, I thank you much,” said she, inclining, and taking her skirt with her hand; “how kind of you! I thank you much.”
“I am inattentive by nature,” said he; “but do you know who taught me a little carefulness? Litka. There is need of care with her; and Pani Emilia has to remember this.”