“I beg you not to put us off, but tell exactly how it was,” said Pani Bigiel.
“How it was? Well, first, I entered the inclosure of the villa, and did not know what to do further, or where the Osnovskis lived, or Pani Bronich; whether to pay them a visit at once, or whether it was necessary to visit both separately.”
“Separately,” said Pan Stanislav; “Pani Bronich has separate apartments, though they have one drawing-room, which they use in common.”
“Well, I found all in that drawing-room; and Pani Osnovski first brought me out of trouble, for she said that she would share me with Pani Bronich, and that I should make two visits at one time. I found Pani Mashko there and Pan Kopovski; and he is such a man, so beautiful that he ought to have on his head one of those velvet-crowned caps which jewellers wear. Who is Kopovski?”
“An idiot!” answered Pan Stanislav. “In that is contained his name, his manner of life, his occupation, and personal marks. Another description of the man would not be needed even in a passport.”
“Now I understand,” said Zavilovski; “and certain words which I heard have become clear for me. That gentleman was sitting, and the young ladies were painting him. Pani Osnovski, his full face in oil; Panna Castelli, his profile in water-colors. Both had print skirts over their dresses, and both were beautiful. Evidently Pani Osnovski is just beginning to paint, but Panna Castelli has had much practice.”
“Of what did they talk?”
Zavilovski turned to Marynia. “First, those ladies asked about your health; I told them that you looked better and better.”
He did not say, however, that on that occasion he had blushed like a student, and that at present he consoled himself only with the thought that all had been so occupied in painting that they did not notice him, in which he was mistaken. He was confused now a little, and, wishing to hide this, continued,—
“Later we spoke of painting, of course, and portraits. I observed that Panna Castelli took something from the head of Kopovski; she answered me,—