She passes us as serenely as a summer day. Ostrynski bows to her; but she does not see him. I wake from my amazement and cry,—
"Let us follow her!"
"No," answers Ostrynski; "have you gone mad? I must tie my cravat. Give me peace! that is an acquaintance of mine."
"An acquaintance of yours? Present me."
"I do not think of it; look to your own betrothed."
I hurl a curse at Ostrynski and his posterity to the ninth generation; then I wish to fly after the unknown. To my misfortune, she has entered an open carriage. Only from a distance do I see her straw hat and red parasol.
"Do you know her really?" ask I of Ostrynski.
"I know all people."
"Who is she?"
"Pani Helena Kolchanovski of the house of Turno, otherwise Panna Vdova [Miss Widow], so called."