“It is a gladsome sort of day,” said Pan Stanislav. “I rejoice, for my Marynia’s sake, that it is clear.”
“It is gladsome for you in life; therefore everything seems clear to you,” said Svirski, taking him by the arm. But all at once he dropped the arm, and stopping the way, said, with an expression as if he wished to quarrel,—
“Do you know that you have the most beautiful woman in Warsaw as wife? It is I who tell you this—I!”
And he began to strike his breast with his hand as if to increase thereby the certainty that it was he and no one else who was speaking thus.
“Of course!” answered Pan Stanislav, laughing, “and also the best and most honest on earth; but let us go on, for it is cold.”
When Svirski took him again by the arm, Pan Stanislav added with some emotion,—
“But what I went through during her sickness, the Lord God alone knows—Better not mention it—She gave me a surprise simply by her return to life; but if God grants me to live till spring, I will give a surprise that will gladden her.”
“There is nothing with which to compare her,” answered Svirski.
Then, halting again, he said, as if in astonishment, “And; as I love God, so much simplicity at the same time.”
They walked on a while in silence, then Pan Stanislav asked Svirski of his journey.