“Let papa deposit sufficient capital for Pan Ignas’s father.”
“It would be better for thee not to give that advice; I have done enough in my life for Pan Ignas’s father, though I had no wish to see him, and prefer now to do something for Pan Ignas himself.”
“I know; but if his father has an income assured till his death, Pan Ignas will be able to command that which he has from his mother.”
“As God is dear to me, that is true!” said Pan Zavilovski, with astonishment. “See! we have both been breaking our heads for nothing, and she has discovered it. True, as God is dear to me!”
“You are perfectly right,” said Pan Stanislav, looking at her with curiosity.
But she had inclined to the embroidery her face, which was without expression of interest, and, as it were, faded before its time.
The news of such a turn of affairs pleased Marynia and Pani Bigiel greatly, and gave at the same time occasion to speak of Panna Helena. Formerly she was considered a cold young lady, who placed form above everything; but it was said that later a way was broken through that coldness to her heart by great feeling, which, turning into a tragedy, turned also that society young lady into a strange woman, separated from people, confined to herself, jealous of her suffering. Some exalted her great benevolence; but if she was really benevolent, she did her good work so secretly that no one knew anything definite. It was difficult, also, for any one to approach her, for her indifference was greatly like pride. Men declared that in her manner there was something simply contemptuous, just as if she could not forgive them for living.
Pan Ignas had been in Prytulov, and returned only the week following the old man’s talk with Pan Stanislav,—that is, when the noble had deposited in the name of his father twice the amount of capital which had served so far to pay his expenses at the asylum. When he learned of this, Pan Ignas rushed off to thank the old man, and to save himself from accepting it; but Zavilovski, feeling firm ground under his feet, grumbled him out of his position.
“But what hast thou to say?” asked he. “I have done nothing for thee; I have given thee nothing. Thou hast no right to receive or not to receive; and that it pleased me to go to the aid of a sick relative is a kind of act permitted to every man.”
In fact, there was nothing to answer; hence the matter ended in embraces and emotion, in which these two men, strangers a short time before, felt that they were real relatives.