“But he is always from home. Pani Mashko’s mother is in an optical hospital in Vienna, and will lose her eyes, perhaps. Pani Mashko is alone whole days, like a hermitess. I say that I had a prejudice against her, but now I am sorry for her.”
“It is true,” said Marynia, “that since marriage she has become far more sympathetic.”
“Yes,” answered Pan Stanislav; “and besides she has lost no charm. Red eyes injured her formerly; but now the redness has vanished, and she is as maiden-like as ever.”
“But it is unknown whether Mashko is equally pleased with that,” remarked Bigiel.
Marynia was anxious to tell those present the news about Pan Ignas; but since he was not betrothed yet officially, she did not know that it might be mentioned. When, however, after tea, Pani Bigiel began to inquire of him how the matter stood, he himself said that it was as good as finished, and Marynia put in her word announcing that the matter stood in this form,—that they might congratulate Pan Ignas. All began then to press his hand with that true friendship which they had for him, and genuine gladness possessed all. Bigiel, from delight, kissed Pani Bigiel; Pan Stanislav commanded to bring glasses and a bottle of champagne, to drink the health of the “most splendid couple” in Warsaw; Pani Bigiel began to joke with Pan Ignas, predicting what the housekeeping of a poet and an artist would be. He laughed; but was really moved by this, that his dreams were beginning to be real.
A little later, Pan Stanislav punched him, and said,—
“The happiness of God, but I will give you one advice: what you have in poetry, put into business, into work; be a realist in life, and remember that marriage is no romance.”
But he did not finish, for Marynia put her hand suddenly over his mouth, and said, laughing, “Silence, thou wise head!”
And then to Pan Ignas, “Don’t listen to this grave pate: make no theories beforehand for yourself; only love.”
“True, Pani, true,” answered Pan Ignas.