“Good-evening,” said he, approaching her. “I have come to say good-by to your husband. Where is he?”
She bowed slightly, and answered, with the thin, cold voice usual to her,—
“My husband is buying tickets.”
“How tickets? Are you going with him?”
“No; my husband is buying a ticket.”
Further conversation under these conditions seemed rather difficult; but, after a while, Mashko appeared in company with a railway servant, to whom he gave the ticket and money, with the order to check the baggage. Wearing a long travelling overcoat and a soft silk cap, he looked, with his side whiskers and gold glasses, like some travelling diplomat. Pan Stanislav deceived himself, too, in thinking that Mashko would show uncommon delight at his coming. Mashko, when he saw him, said, it is true, “Oh, how thankful I am that thou hast come!” but, as it were, with a kind of indifference, and with the hurry usual to people who are going on a journey.
“Everything is checked,” said he, looking around the hall. “But where are my hand packages? Ah, here they are! Good!”
Then he turned to Pan Stanislav, and said,—
“I thank thee for having come. But do me still one kindness, and conduct my wife home; or, at least, go out with her, and help her to find a carriage. Terenia, Pan Polanyetski will take thee home. My dear friend, come one moment; I have something more to say to thee.”
And, taking Pan Stanislav aside, he began to speak feverishly,—