“But nothing has happened,” said Osnovski. “It is sure that Panna Helena will not marry, and the property will pass sometime, if not to Ignas, to his children,—that’s the whole affair.”
Seeing, however, that the face of Pani Bronich was depressed continually, he added after a while,—
“Well, aunt, more agreement with the will of God! more calmness. Ignas is not an inch less.”
“Of course,” answered she, with a tinge of anger; “of course all that changes nothing. Zavilovski in his way has talent; and every one must confess that in his way he forms a match beyond all expectations. Oh, yes; of this there cannot be two opinions. Of course nothing is to be said of the property, all the more since people tell various things of the ways by which old Pan Zavilovski increased it so greatly. May God be good to him, and pardon him for having deceived me, it is unknown why! This very day Nitechka and I prayed for his soul. It was difficult to do otherwise. Of course I should prefer that he had not had that inclination to untruth, for it may be a family trait. Nitechka and I would prefer, too, that Pan Ignas had given us less frequently to understand that he would be an heir of Pan Zavilovski.”
“I beg pardon most earnestly,” interrupted Osnovski, with vigor. “He never gave that to be understood. Aunt will permit—this is too much. He did not wish to mention it; aunt asked him in my presence.”
But Pani Bronich was in her career, and nothing could stop her; so she said, with growing irritation,—
“He did not give Yozio to understand this, but he gave me to understand it. Nitechka can testify. Besides, I said to Yozio, ‘Never mind this matter.’ Of course nothing has changed; and if we have some grief, it is at least not from this cause. Yozio has never been a mother; and as a man he can never understand how much fear we mothers feel at the last moment before giving a child into strange hands. I have learned of late, just now, that Zavilovski, with all his qualities, has a violent temper; and he has. I have always suspected him of something similar; and that being so, it would be simply death for Nitechka. Pan Polanyetski himself did not deny that he has a violent temper. Pan Polanyetski himself, though his friend, so far as men can be friends, gave to understand that his father, too, had a violent temper, and because of it fell into insanity, which may be in the family. I know that Pan Ignas seems to love Nitechka, in as far as men can love truly; but will that love last long? That he is selfish, Yozio himself will not deny; for that matter, you are all selfish. Then let Yozio not be astonished that in these recent hours terror seizes me when I think that my darling may fall into the hands of a tyrant, a madman, and an egotist.”
“No,” cried Osnovski, turning to his wife; “as I love thee, one’s ears simply wither; one may simply lose one’s head.”
But Pani Aneta seemed to amuse herself with that conversation as she would in a theatre. The quarrels of her husband with Pani Bronich always amused her; but now she was carried away more than usual, for Pani Bronich, looking at Osnovski as if with pity, continued,—
“Besides, that sphere! All those Svirskis and Polanyetskis and Bigiels! We are blinded in Zavilovski, all of us; but, to tell the truth, is that sphere fit for Nitechka? Hardly. The Lord God himself made a difference between people; and from that comes a difference in breeding. Perhaps Yozio does not give himself a clear account of this, for, in general, men are unable to give account to themselves of such matters; but I tell Yozio that there are shades and shades, which in life may become enormously important. Has Yozio forgotten who Nitechka is, and that if anything pains such a person as Nitechka, if anything wounds her, she may pay for it with her life? Let Yozio think who those people are, speaking among ourselves,—such people as the Polanyetskis, and such men as Svirski, and that whole company with which Pan Ignas associates, and with which he will force Nitechka to associate, perhaps!”