“Ah!” said Svirski.
“Yes. There is no other cause for it. Panna Ratkovski was stopping with the Osnovskis, so that Kopovski might seem to court her; but since he was courting another, there is no further reason for her stay there.”
“As God lives, this is something fabulous!” said Svirski; “so that all, with the exception of Pani Osnovski, fell in love with that hoopoo.”
Pan Stanislav smiled ironically and nodded his head; on his lips were sticking the words, “without exception, without exception!”
But now Svirski began his conclusions about women, from which he had refrained so far.
“Do you see; do you see? I know German and French and especially Italian women. The Italians in general have fewer impulses, and less education, but they are honester and simpler. May I not finish this macaroni, if I have seen anywhere so many false aspirations and such discord between natures which are vulgar and phrases which are lofty! If you knew what Panna Ratkovski told me of Kopovski! Or take that ‘Poplar,’ that ‘Column,’ that ‘Nitechka,’ that Panna Castelli, that Lily, is it not? You would swear that she was a mimosa, an artist, a sibyl, a golden-haired tall ideal. And here she is for you! She has shown herself! She has chosen, not a living person, but a lay-figure; not a man, but a puppet. When it came to the test, the sibyl turned into a waiting-maid. But I tell you that they are all palpitating for fashionable lay-figures. May thunderbolts singe them!”
Here Svirski extended his giant fist, and wanted to strike the table with it; but Pan Stanislav stopped the hand in mid-air, and said,—
“But you will admit that something exceptional has happened.”
Svirski began to dispute, and to maintain that “they are all that way,” and that all prefer the measure of a tailor to that of Phidias. Gradually, however, he began to regain his balance, and acknowledge that Panna Ratkovski might be an exception.
“Do you remember when you inquired touching the Broniches, I said the ladies are canaille, canaille! neither principles nor character, parvenu souls, nothing more? He was a fool, and you know her. God guarded me; for if they had known then that I have some stupid old genealogical papers, wouldn’t they have made sweet faces at me, and I might have fixed myself nicely! May the woods cover me! I will go, as you see me, with Pan Ignas abroad, for I have enough of this.”