The carriage rolled on quickly after those words, so quickly that the travellers sat in silence for some time; and only when they came upon the sand did Pan Michael speak again: “But the departure of Ketling surprises me. And that it should happen to him, too, just before my coming and before the election.”
“The English think as much of our election as they do of your coming,” answered Zagloba. “Ketling himself is cut from his feet because he must leave us.”
Basia had just on her tongue, “Especially Krysia,” but something reminded her not to mention this matter nor the recent resolution of Krysia. With the instinct of a woman she divined that the one and the other might touch Pan Michael at the outset; as to pain, something pained her, therefore in spite of all her impulsiveness she held silence.
“Of Krysia’s intentions he will know anyhow,” thought she; “but evidently it is better not to speak of them now, since Pan Zagloba has not mentioned them with a word.”
Pan Michael turned again to the driver, “But drive faster!”
“We left our horses and things at Praga,” said Pan Makovetski to Zagloba, “and set out with two men, though it was nightfall, for Michael and I were in a terrible hurry.”
“I believe it,” answered Zagloba. “Do you see what throngs have come to the capital? Outside the gates are camps and markets, so that it is difficult to pass. People tell also wonderful things of the coming election, which I will repeat at a proper time in the house to you.”
Here they began to converse about politics. Zagloba was trying to discover adroitly Makovetski’s opinions; at last he turned to Pan Michael and asked without ceremony, “And for whom will you give your vote, Michael?”
But Pan Michael, instead of an answer, started as if roused from sleep, and said, “I am curious to know if they are sleeping, and if we shall see them to-day?”
“They are surely sleeping,” answered Basia, with a sweet and as it were drowsy voice. “But they will wake and come surely to greet you and uncle.”