Basia sprang to the entrance; and a few “Our Fathers” later she returned with the announcement that all was ready.
“It is time to go,” said Pan Michael.
After a while they took their seats in the carriage and moved on toward Mokotov. Pan Michael’s sister and Panna Krysia occupied the rear seats; in front sat the little knight at the side of Basia. It was so dark already that they could not see one another’s features.
“Young ladies, do you know Warsaw?” asked Pan Michael, bending toward Panna Krysia, and raising his voice above the rattle of the carriage.
“No,” answered Krysia, in a low but resonant and agreeable voice. “We are real rustics, and up to this time have known neither famous cities nor famous men.”
Saying this, she inclined her head somewhat, as if giving to understand that she counted Pan Michael among the latter; he received the answer thankfully. “A polite sort of maiden!” thought he, and straightway began to rack his head over some kind of compliment to be made in return.
“Even if the city were ten times greater than it is,” said he at last, “still, ladies, you might be its most notable ornament.”
“But how do you know that in the dark?” inquired Panna Basia, on a sudden.
“Ah, here is a kid for you!” thought Pan Michael.
But he said nothing, and they rode on in silence for some time; Basia turned again to the little knight and asked, “Do you know whether there will be room enough in the stable? We have ten horses and two wagons.”