With that the door squeaked, and Pani Boski entered. But before Zagloba could look around, Pan Adam had already thundered down with his whole length at her feet, and occupying an enormous extent of the floor with his gigantic body, began to cry:—
“I have my father’s consent. Give me Zosia, mother! Give me Zosia, give me Zosia, mother!”
“Give Zosia, mother,” repeated Zagloba, in a bass voice.
The uproar drew people from the adjacent chambers; Basia came in, Pan Michael came from his office, and soon after came Zosia herself. It did not become the girl to seem to surmise what the matter was; but her face grew purple at once, and putting one hand in the other quickly she dropped them before her, pursed her mouth, and stood at the wall with downcast eyes. Pan Michael ran for old Novoveski. When he came he was deeply offended that his son had not committed the function to him, and had not left the affair to his eloquence, still he upheld the entreaty.
Pani Boski, who lacked, indeed, every near guardianship in the world, burst into tears at last, and agreed to Pan Adam’s request to go to Rashkoff and wait there for her husband. Then, covered with tears, she turned to her daughter.
“Zosia,” asked she, “are the plans of Pan Adam to your heart?”
All eyes were turned to Zosia. She was standing at the wall, her eyes fixed on the floor as usual, and only after some silence did she say, in a voice barely audible,—
“I will go to Rashkoff.”
“My beauty!” roared Pan Adam, and springing to the maiden he caught her in his arms. Then he cried till the walls trembled, “Zosia is mine! She is mine, she is mine!”