He was only roused toward morning by a knocking at the door.
“Pan Stanislav!” called the smothered voice of Pani Bigiel.
He sprang to his feet, and, gaining consciousness that moment, ran out of that room. With one glance he took in Marynia’s bed; and at sight of the closed curtains his feet tottered under him.
“What has happened?” whispered he, with whitening lips.
But Pani Bigiel answered with a voice equally low, panting a trifle,—
“You have a son.”
And she put her finger on her lips.
CHAPTER LXV.
There were grievous days yet, and very grievous. Such weakness came on Marynia that her life began to quiver, like the flame of a taper. Would it quench, or would it flicker up again? At moments all were convinced that the flame was just, just dying. Still youth, and the relief brought by the coming of a child to the world, turned the scale on the life side. On a certain day the sick woman woke after long sleep, and seemed healthier. The old doctor in attendance, who witnessed the improvement, wished to convince himself more clearly that there was no deception, and asked to call in a physician with whom he had held counsel earlier. Pan Stanislav went to find him, and drove himself out of his mind almost while searching the city half a day for him; he did not dare hope yet that that turn in her sickness and in his misfortune was decisive. When at last he found the hunted doctor and brought him to the house, Pani Bigiel received him in the room adjoining the sick chamber, with moist eyelids, but with a glad face, and said,—