Pan Stanislav looked at her with astonishment; after a while she added,—
“Besides, while one lives, one may enter on a better road any moment.”
“I did not suppose that I should hear anything like this from her,” thought Pan Stanislav. And he said aloud,—
“Then let us go to Ignas.”
Pan Ignas received the news first with amazement, and then with delight; but that delight was as if external. It might be supposed that, by the aid of his brain, he understood that something immensely favorable had met him, and that he had told himself that he must be pleased with it, but that he did not feel it with his heart. His heart declared itself only in the care and interest with which he asked Panna Helena what she intended to do with herself, and what would become of her. She was not willing to answer him, and stated, in general terms, that she would withdraw from the world, and that her resolve was unchangeable. She implored of him this, which clearly concerned her most, not to waste his powers and disappoint people who were attached to him. She spoke as a mother, and he, repeating, “I will write again the moment I recover,” kissed her hands and had tears in his eyes. It was not known, however, whether those tears meant sympathy for her, or the regret of a child abandoned by a good and kind nurse; for Panna Helena told him that from that moment she considered herself a guest in his house, and in two days would withdraw. Pan Ignas would not agree to this, and extorted the promise from her to remain a week longer. She yielded at last, through fear of exciting him and injuring his health. Then he grew calm, and was as gladsome as a little boy whose prayer has been granted. Toward the end of the evening, however, he grew thoughtful, as if remembering something, looked around with astonished eyes on those present, and said,—
“It is wonderful, but it seems to me as if all this had happened before some time.”
Pan Stanislav, wishing to give a more cheerful tone to the conversation, asked, laughing,—
“Was it during previous existences on other planets? It was, was it not?”
“In that way everything might have happened some other time,” said Pan Ignas.
“And you have written the very same verses already—on the moon?”