Pan Ignas, on seeing them, hurried his steps and stood before them, dressed elegantly, almost to a fit, and with a glad face.
“My father is better,” said he, with a voice panting a little; “I have time and will drop in at Prytulov to-day.”
But Svirski, pressing his hand firmly, went off in silence. The young man looked after him with surprise.
“Was Pan Svirski offended at anything?” asked he, looking at Pan Stanislav; and he noticed then that his face too had a serious, almost stern, expression.
“What does this mean?” asked he, “or what has happened?”
Pan Stanislav took him by the hand, and said, with a voice full of emotion and cordiality,—
“My dear Pan Ignas, I have esteemed you always, not only for exceptional gifts, but for exceptional character; I have to announce very bad news to you, but I am sure that you will find in yourself strength enough, and will not give way to the misfortune.”
“What has happened?” asked Pan Ignas, whose face changed in one moment.
Pan Stanislav beckoned to a droshky, and said,—
“Take a seat. To the bridge!” cried he, turning to the driver. Then, taking out Osnovski’s letter, he gave it to Pan Ignas.