Pan Stanislav, who during his stay in Belgium had played tennis no less passionately than Osnovski, began to boast of his skill, and said,—
“If I had been there, I should have shown you how to play tennis.”
“Me you might,” answered Pan Ignas; “but they play perfectly, especially Kopovski.”
“Ah, is Kopovski in Prytulov?” asked Pan Stanislav.
“He is,” said Pan Ignas.
And suddenly they looked into each other’s eyes. In one instant each divined that the other knew something; and they stopped talking. A moment of silence and even of awkwardness ensued, for Pani Marynia blushed unexpectedly; and not being able to hide this, she blushed still more deeply.
Pan Ignas, who had thought that he was the exclusive possessor of the secret, was astonished at seeing her blush, and was confused too; then, wishing to cover the confusion with talk, he went on hurriedly,—
“Yes; Kopovski is in Prytulov. Osnovski invited him, so that Lineta might finish his portraits, for later on there will be no time. Besides, there is a relative of Osnovski’s there also, Panna Ratkovski; and I think that Kopovski is courting her. She is a pleasing and quiet young lady. In August we are all going to Scheveningen, for those ladies do not like Ostend. If Pan Zavilovski had not come with such cordial assistance to my father, I should not have been able to go; but now my hands are free.”
When he had said this, he began to talk with Pan Stanislav about his position in the counting-house, which he did not wish to leave. On the contrary, he asked a leave of some months, in view of exceptional circumstances; then he took farewell and went out, for he was in a hurry to write to his betrothed. In a couple of days he was to go to Prytulov again; but meanwhile he wrote sometimes even twice a day. And on the way to his lodgings he composed to himself the words of the letter, for he knew that Lineta would read it in company with Pani Bronich; that both would seek in it not only heart but wings; and that the most beautiful passages would be read in secret to Pani Aneta, Pan Osnovski, and even Panna Ratkovski. But he did not take this ill of his beloved “Nitechka,”—nay, he was thankful to her that she was proud of him; and he used all his power to answer to her lofty idea of him. The thought did not anger him either, that people would know how he loved her. “Let them know that she was loved as no one else in the world.”
He thought then a little of Marynia too. Her blushes moved him, for he saw in them a proof of a most pure nature, which not only was incapable of evil itself, but which was even ashamed, offended, and alarmed by evil in others. And, comparing her with Pani Aneta, he understood what a precipice divided those women, apparently near each other by social position and mental level.