Meanwhile Marynia, who had as much attachment for Pan Yamish as if he had been one of the family, when she heard that he was a straw widower, invited him to dinner. But beyond expectation Plavitski, angry because he had not found Pani Yamish in Vantory, and mindful of his Sunday whist parties with “Gantos,” invited Gantovski too, in consequence of which the Polanyetskis drove ahead very hurriedly, so that Marynia might have time to make needful arrangements. Behind them came Plavitski and the councillor; Gantovski dragged on in the rear in his brichka drawn by a lean Yalbrykov nag.
Along the road Plavitski said to Councillor Yamish,—
“I cannot tell you. My daughter is happy. He is a good man and an energetic piece, but—”
“But what?” asked Pan Yamish.
“But flighty. Thou hast in mind, neighbor, that he pressed me so hard for some wretched twelve thousand rubles that I was forced to sell Kremen. And what then? Then he bought back that same Kremen. If he had not squeezed me, he would not have had to buy Kremen, for he would have had it for nothing with Marynia after my death. He is a good-natured man, but here” (and while he was saying this, Plavitski tapped his forehead with his finger) “there is something lacking! What is true, is not a sin.”
“Hm!” answered Yamish, who did not wish to cause bitterness to Plavitski by the remark that if Kremen had remained longer in his hands nothing would have been left of it.
Plavitski sighed, and said,—
“But for me in my old age new toil, for now everything must go by my head.”
With difficulty did Pan Yamish restrain himself from shouting, “May God forbid!” but he knew Pan Stanislav well enough to know that there was no danger. Plavitski did not believe much in what he himself said; he was a little afraid of his son-in-law, and he knew well that now everything would go by another head.
Thus conversing, they drove up to the porch. Marynia, who had arranged everything already for the dinner, received them with Stas in her arms.