Gosławski excused himself.
"You see, my dear fellow, my wife has been ill, and I have had very heavy expenses. I would like to make up as much as I can, because, you know, I want to start on my own. What else am I to do since that dog has reduced the wages? I must go on slaving like this, though I have a pain in my side and my head swims."
"Bah!" said Źaliński; "I suppose you will take it out of the journeymen in your own workshop."
Gosławski shook his head.
"I don't want to profit by doing wrong. I don't give what is mine for nothing, but I won't take what belongs to others, either."
And he went off to his work, which, though he was used to it, had worn him out lately to such an extent that he was not able to collect his thoughts.
"If only I can start on my own," he thought, "I shall forget all this."
But the task was too great. To feed a family, to save all he could, to make up the expenses caused by his wife's confinement, and to pay for young Adler's travels into the bargain, went beyond the strength of any human being.
He looked sad and got still thinner and paler; sometimes the perspiration would break out all over him, and he would drop his hands on his vice and wonder why his brain, usually so quick, felt quite empty and dark. Possibly he would have slackened off if he had not seen in the darkness a fiery signboard:
GOSŁAWSKI'S MECHANICAL WORKSHOP....