"And he?" inquired she.
"Ei! he loves one to-day, another to-morrow. He can never love any one long. Such is his nature. If he should ever say that he loves thee do not believe him" (here I began to speak with emphasis); "for him it will be a question of thy kiss, not thy heart, dost understand?"
"Pan Henryk!"
"True! but what do I say? This does not concern thee. And, moreover, thou art so modest, wouldst thou give thy kiss to a stranger, Hania? I beg pardon, for it seems to me that I have offended thee even with the supposition. Thou wouldst never permit that, wouldst thou, Hania, never?"
Hania sprang up to go away, but I seized her by the hand and detained her by force. I tried to be calm, but rage was throttling me, as if with pincers. I felt that I was losing self-control.
"Answer," said I, with repressed excitement, "or I shall not let thee go."
"Pan Henryk! what do you want? What do you say?"
"I say—I say," whispered I, with set teeth, "that thou hast no shame in thy eyes. Hei?"
Hania sat down again on the sofa, helpless. I looked at her; she was pale as linen. But pity for the poor girl had fled from me. I grasped her hand, and squeezing its small fingers, continued,—
"Hear me! I was at thy feet. I loved thee more than the whole world—"