“I gave my opinion in Rome of her, and, as I remember, let my tongue out like a scourge.”
“I remember too. You were very wicked. How is it with the young couple?”
“Oh, nothing! They are happy. But Panna Ratkovski is there,—a very charming young lady. I lacked little of falling in love with her.”
“There it is for you! But Stas told me that you are in love with all ladies.”
“With all, and therefore always in love.”
Bigiel, hearing this, stopped and said earnestly,—
“That is a good way never to marry.”
“Unfortunately it is,” said Svirski. Then, turning to Marynia, he said, “Pan Stanislav must have told you of our agreement,—that when you say to me ‘marry,’ I shall marry. That was the agreement with your husband; therefore I should wish you to see Panna Ratkovski. Her name is Stefania, which means the crowned. A pretty name, is it not? She is a calm kind of person, not bold, fearing Pani Aneta and Panna Castelli, but clearly honest. I had a proof of this. Whenever a young lady is in question, I observe everything and note it down in my memory. Once a beggar came to me in Prytulov with a face like that of some Egyptian hermit from Thebes. Pani Aneta and Panna Castelli rushed out at him with their cameras and photographed him, profile and full face, as much as was possible. But the old man wanted food, I think. He had come hoping for alms, but evidently he hated to ask. Peasants have that kind of feeling. Well, none of those ladies observed this, or at least did not note it; they treated him as a thing, till Panna Ratkovski told them that they were humiliating and hurting the old man. That is a small incident, but it shows heart and delicate feelings. That handsome Kopovski dangles about her; but she is not charmed with the man, like those ladies, who are occupied with him, who paint him, invent new costumes for him, hand him around, and almost carry him in their arms, like a doll. No; she told me herself that Kopovski annoys her; and that pleases me, too, for he has as much sense as the head of a walking-stick.”
“As far as I have heard,” said Bigiel, “Pan Kopovski needs money; and Panna Ratkovski is not rich. I know that her father, when dying, was in debt to a bank for a sum which, with interest, was due on the last day of last month.”
“What is that to us?” interrupted Pani Bigiel.