Here his dark face took on an expression of great mildness, and also, as it were, melancholy.
“Take me, for example; I am working apparently for this art of ours. Twenty-five years have I been daubing and daubing with a brush on paper or on canvas; and God alone knows how I slaved, how I toiled before I worked anything out of myself. Now I feel as much alone in the world as a finger. But what do I want? This, that the Lord God, for all this toil, might vouchsafe me some honest little woman, who would love me a little and be grateful for my affection.”
“And why do you not marry?”
“Why?” answered Svirski, with a certain outburst. “Because I am afraid; because of you, one in ten knows how to love, though you have nothing else to do.”
Further discourse was interrupted by the coming of Pan Plavitski and Pani Mashko; she, in a dark blue foulard dress with white spots, looked from afar like a butterfly. Pan Plavitski looked like a butterfly also; and, approaching the veranda, he began to cry out,—
“I seized Pani Mashko, and brought her. Good-evening to the company; good-evening, Marynia! I was coming here to you on a droshky till I saw this lady standing out on the balcony; then I seized her, and we came on foot. I dismissed the droshky, thinking that you would send me home.”
Those present began to greet Pani Mashko; and she, ruddy from the walk, fell to explaining joyously, while removing her hat from her ash-colored hair, that really Pan Plavitski had brought her away almost by force; for, awaiting the return of her husband, she did not like to leave home. Pan Plavitski pacified her by saying that her husband, not finding her at home, would guess where she was, and for the flight and the lonely walk he would not be angry, for that was not the city, where people raise scandal for any cause (here he smoothed his white shirt-front with the mien of a man who would not be at all astonished if scandal were roused touching him); “but the country has its own rights, and permits us to disregard etiquette.”
When he had said this, he looked slyly at Pani Mashko, rubbed his hands, and added,—
“Ha, ha! the country has its rights; I said well, has its rights, and so there is no place for me like the country.”
Pani Mashko laughed, feeling that the laugh was becoming, and that some one might admire her. But Bigiel, who, being himself a strict reasoner, demanded logic from all, turned to Plavitski, and said,—