"Because--atone time I--did not bear the name of Anney."
"You did not bear the name of Anney?"
"I--am--Hanka Skibianka."
Ladislaus rose, staggered like a drunken man, and began to stare at her with a bewildered look.
And she added in almost a whisper:
"Little master!--'tis I--of the mill."
And tears coursed quietly over her pallid countenance.
PART III
I
Krzycki left Miss Anney's with a sensation as if lightning had struck directly in front of him and suddenly stunned him. He could neither collect nor connect his thoughts; he was not even in a condition to realize his situation nor reflect upon it. The only impression, or rather feeling, which in the first moments remained was a feeling of illimitable amazement. On the way he repeated every little while, "Hanka Skibianka! Hanka Skibianka!" and seemed incapable of doing aught else. He did not find Gronski at home, as the latter had left immediately after the noon hour, telling the servant that he would return late at night. So he went to his room, locked himself in without knowing why; afterwards he flung himself into an armchair and sat abstractedly for over an hour. After the lapse of that time, he opened his trunk and began to pack things into it with excessive zeal, until finally he propounded to himself the question: "Why am I doing this?" Not being able to find an answer, he abandoned that work and only resumed it when he came to the unexpected conclusion that in any case he would have to move away from Gronski's.