“But thou,” said he, “art an honest little woman to thy bones.”
Then he said, “Well, now, decide; one, two, three! to give?”
She made no answer, but began to wink her eyes like a petted child, as a sign to give. Both became joyous at once; but Pan Stanislav pretended to complain and mutter.
“See what it is to be under the slipper. Drag on through the night, man, and beg Pan Mashko to take thy money, because it pleases that fondled figure there.”
And her heart was overflowing with delight, simply that he called her a “fondled figure.” All her former sorrows and alarms vanished as if enchanted by those words. Her radiant eyes looked at her husband with indescribable love. After a while she inquired,—
“Is it necessary to go there right away?”
“Of course. Mashko will go to the city at eight in the morning, and be flying all day.”
“Then give order to make Bigiel’s horse ready.”
“No! The moon is shining, and it is not far; I’ll go on foot.”
Thus saying, he took farewell of Marynia, and, seizing his check-book, went out. On the road he thought,—