The servant returned in half an hour. Pan Stanislav saw him through the window, and, going down hurriedly to meet him, learned that he had brought a note from Pani Mashko to Marynia. Taking the note, he gave it to Marynia; and his heart beat with still greater alarm while watching her face as she read it.
But Marynia, when she had finished, raised her calm eyes to him, and said,—
“Pani Mashko invites us to supper to-day—and the Bigiels also.”
“A-a!” answered Pan Stanislav, drawing a full breath. And in his soul he added, “She has not told.”
“We will go, shall we not?” asked Marynia.
“If thou wish—that is, go with the Bigiels, for after dinner I must go to the city. I must see Svirski; perhaps I shall bring him here.”
“Then we may send an excuse?”
“No, no! go with the Bigiels. Maybe I shall call in on the way and explain to her; but even that is not necessary. Thou wilt explain for me.” And he went out, for he needed to be alone with his thoughts.
“She has not told;” a feeling of relief and delight now possessed him. She had not told her husband; she was not offended; she had invited them. She has agreed, therefore, to everything; she is ready to go farther, and to go everywhere, whithersoever he may wish to lead her. What is that invitation itself, if not a wish to put him at ease, if not an answer to his, “Till to-morrow”? Now all depends on him alone; and shivers begin again to go from his feet to his head. There are no hindrances unless in himself. The fish has swallowed the hook. Temptations attacked him with new power, for uncertainty restrained them no longer. Yes, the fish had swallowed the hook; she had not resisted. Here a feeling of triumph seized him, and of satisfaction for his self-love; and at the same time, thinking of Pani Mashko, he began almost to beg pardon of her in his soul, because he had at moments been capable of doubting her, and thinking her an honest woman, for even five minutes. Now, at least, he knew what to think of her, and he was thankful. After a while he laughed at his previous fears. In this way he rendered the first tribute due her, contempt. She had ceased to be for him something unattainable, something for which a battle between hope and fear is fought. In spite of himself, he imagined her now as something of his, as his own, always attractive, but for this very reason less valuable. The thought also caused him pleasure, that if he resisted temptation at present, it would be a pure merit. Now, when the doors stood open, he saw with wonder that the desire of resistance increased in him. Once more all that he had said during the sleepless night about faith-breaking flew through his mind. Once more his heart reminded him of Marynia, her justness, her honesty, her approaching motherhood, and that great peace, that real happiness, which he could find only near her; and in the end of all these considerations he decided to go to the city, and not be at Pani Mashko’s.
After midday he gave command to bring the horses. When he was seated in Bigiel’s carriage he bent over, embraced Marynia at parting, “Amuse thyself well,” and drove away. His morning exhaustion had passed; he recovered even his humor, for he felt satisfied with himself. Confidence in his own power and character returned to him. Meanwhile, a certain exciting pleasure was caused in his mind by the thought of Pani Mashko’s astonishment when she should learn that he had gone, and had no intention to visit her. He felt a certain need of revenge on the woman for the physical impression which she had produced on him. Since the coming of that note, which she had written to Marynia, his contempt for her had increased with such force that soon he began to think that he would be in a position to come off victorious, even should he visit her.