“To Reichenhall?”
“Yes. But thou art homeward?”
“Yes.”
“Thou hast proposed to Pani Emilia?”
“No.”
“Then I forgive thee. Thou mayst go.”
“Keep thy conceits for a fitter season. Litka is in very great danger.”
Bukatski grew serious, and said, raising his brows,—“Ai, ai! Is that perfectly certain?”
Pan Stanislav told briefly the opinion of the doctor. Bukatski listened for a while; then he said,—
“And is a man not to be a pessimist in this case? Poor child and poor mother! In the event of misfortune, I cannot imagine in any way how she will endure it.”