At this, it grew dark in the eyes of Pan Ignas, who, notwithstanding his shyness, was impulsive; his lower jaw came forward more than ever, and, rising, he measured with a glance the old man from his aching foot to his crown, and said,—
“You have a way of giving sharp judgments, which does not suit me; therefore it is pleasant to take farewell.”
And, bowing, he took his hat and departed.
Old Pan Zavilovski, who permitted himself everything, and to whom everything was forgiven, looked at his daughter some time with amazement, and only after long silence exclaimed,—
“What! has he gone mad?”
The young man did not tell Pani Bronich what had happened. He said merely that he had made a visit, and that father and daughter alike did not please him. She learned everything, however, from the old man himself, who, for that matter, did not call Lineta anything but “Venetian half-devil,” even to her eyes.
“But to make the matter perfect, you have sent me a full devil,” said he; “it is well that he did not break my head.”
Still in his voice one might note a species of satisfaction that it was a Zavilovski who had shown himself so resolute; but Pani Bronich did not note it. She took the affair somewhat to heart, and, to the great astonishment of the “full-devil,” said to him,—
“He is wild about Lineta, and with him this is a sort of term of tenderness; besides, one should forgive a man much who has such a position, and in this age. It must be that you haven’t read Krashevski’s novel, ‘Venetian Half-Devil.’ This is a title in which there is a certain poetry ever since that author used it. When the old man grows good-natured, write him a couple of words, will you not? Such relations should be kept up.”
“Pani,” answered Pan Ignas, “I would not write to him for anything in the world.”