Tears brought relief to us all—to all but Babiński, who, instead of weeping with us, stood as though petrified, merely blinking his eyes. We could see that he was touched to the quick. For, standing near the table, he stretched out both hands among the cups and glasses standing round the wine-bottle, and clinked a glass loudly. His eyelids quivered and his hands trembled as in fever, refusing to obey him; and when Porankiewicz, who was calm again, ran up to him, he only whispered in a weak voice:
"Pour it out, brother."
Porankiewicz began to pour, and every hand was stretched out towards the table.
It was, of course, impossible for all to pour at once. But as we all found we needed something to drink, we reproached one another for not having thought of filling the glasses earlier. This, however, Bartek cut short by sagely observing that "nobody here was the Holy Ghost, and could know that so much sorrow would fall upon all of us." When at last all the cups and glasses had been filled, we emptied them in silence, fearing a fresh outburst of emotion, and proceeded in turn to the peppered and salted pępki course. This is food of the kind which cannot be eaten without being suitably moistened. So when Porankiewicz repeatedly took up the bottle, all hands were again stretched towards him. And then we noticed that Babiński's hand was not among the rest.
Babiński stood in the same attitude as before, with his empty glass, silent, immovable, and pale. Bartek, who had experience of sick people, was the first to perceive his danger, and, going up to him at once, examined him anxiously.
"It's clear it has got hold of him all at once," was his final verdict. "If it has no outlet, it may strangle him, just as a savage wolf kills a lamb. There's only one way to prevent it: if sorrow doesn't come out with tears through the eyes, you must let it flow down gently inside, and as it slowly runs off, the pressure leaves the heart. He ought to have drunk out three glasses at once. But it's not so bad yet; he's a strong man; he'll come to himself after a bit."
And, choosing the grandest cup, Bartek ordered: "Fill it, Porankiewicz!"
Porankiewicz filled it, and Babiński drained it mechanically; again he filled it, and again Babiński drained it. But the pain having evidently not abated, Bartek began to examine him afresh.
"Haven't you got some spirits somewhere, by chance?"
Babiński nodded in assent; and when the vodka had been brought, Bartek chose an ordinary glass from among the other drinking vessels, filled it well to the half, and offered it to Babiński.