Her sister began to wipe them off; repeating in a subdued voice:
"Marynia, Marynia, calm yourself--you will be well--you are not dangerously wounded--no, no--the doctor guarantees that--"
Marynia raised her eyes at her as if she desired to divine whether she was telling the truth. It appeared, however, that she listened to her sister's words with a certain hope.
After which, she said:
"It is sultry.--"
The doctor opened the window of the room. Out in the open air the night was fair and starry. Waves of fresh air brought the scent of the acacias.
The patient lay for some time calm, but suddenly she began again to seek somebody with her eyes and asked:
"Is Pan Gronski here?"
"I am, dear, I am--"
"You, sir--will not--let me?--Truly--"