I sat up immediately in bed. "Has Hania come?" I asked.
"No!" answered my mother. "She has not come. He asks me to Hania's room, for they are painting there and putting on new paper."
At times it seemed to me that a heavy cloud and an ill-concealed sadness lay on the foreheads of the persons surrounding me. I had no knowledge of what was passing, and my inquiries were set aside somehow. I asked Kazio; he answered as did others, that in the house all was well; that our little sisters, Pani d'Yves, and Hania would return soon; and, finally, that I must be quiet.
"But where does this sadness come from?" asked I.
"Seest thou, I will tell thee all. Selim and the old Mirza come here every day. Selim is in despair whole days. He cries; he wants absolutely to see thee; and our mother and father are afraid that this visit would harm thee."
"Wise Selim," said I, smiling, "he came near splitting my skull, and now he is crying for me. Well, is he thinking of Hania all the time?"
"How could he have Hania in his head? I know not. For that matter, I did not ask; but I think that he has renounced her altogether."
"That is a question."
"In every case some one else will get her; be at rest on that point."
Here Kazio made a wry face, student fashion, and added with the mien of a rogue,—