ANTEK, who in reality has a soft heart, is won over evidently. For a week he goes to the Suslovskis regularly; for three days he walks around me, frowns, looks at me just like a wolf.
At last one day at tea he inquires peevishly, "Well, what dost thou think of doing with that girl?"
"With what girl?"
"With that Suslovski, or what is her name?"
"I don't think of doing anything with that Suslovski, or what is her name."
A moment of silence follows, then Antek speaks again,—
"She is whining whole days, till I cannot look at her."
What an honest soul! At that moment too his voice trembles with emotion; but he snorts like a rhinoceros and adds, —
"A decent man does not act in that fashion."
"Antek, thou art beginning to remind me of Papa Suslovski."