"What do you say?" inquired De Sinten.
The student turned his resolute face to the baron, "I say the literature of sated idlers!"
Prince Valerian discovered America a second time. "Every class has its beauties and its pleasures," said he. "I have two passions: politics and photography."
But the dinner was nearing its end; a quarter of an hour later all passed into the adjoining room for coffee. It seemed to Pani Elzen that a certain negligence ought to please Svirski, as he was an artist and somewhat of a gypsy, so she lighted a very slender cigarette, and, leaning on the arm of her easy-chair, crossed her legs. But, being of comparatively low stature, and a trifle broad in the hips, she raised her dress too high by this posture. Young Kladzki dropped his match immediately, and looked for it so long that his uncle punched him slightly in the side, and whispered angrily, —
"What are you thinking of; where are you?"
The young man straightened himself and said in a whisper, "That is what I do not know."
Pani Elzen knew from experience that even well-bred men, when they can take some advantage, become rude in presence of women, especially if those women are unprotected. This time she had not observed young Kladzki's movement; but when she saw the unrestrained and almost cynical smile with which he answered his uncle, she felt convinced that he was talking of her. And in her heart she had a contempt for all that society except Svirski and Kresovich, the tutor, whom she suspected of being in love with her, notwithstanding his hatred for women of her circle.
But that evening Vyadrovski brought her almost to a nervous attack; for it seemed as though for what he had eaten and drunk, he had undertaken to poison every spoonful of her coffee, and every moment of her time. He spoke generally, and as it were objectively, of women, without crossing the bounds of politeness, but at the bottom of his words there was not only cynicism, but a completeness of allusion to Pani Elzen's character and social position, which was simply offensive, and to her, immensely disagreeable, especially before Svirski, who both suffered and was impatient.
A stone fell from her heart, therefore, when at last the guests went away and only the artist remained.
"Aa!" exclaimed she, breathing deeply, "I feel the beginning of neuralgia, and I know not myself what is happening to me."