“Ha! ha!” laughed old Savicky, “how now? Do you not know each other? Ah! Kiss each other, you have known Magdalena ever since she was a child.”
The young people approached each other in silence, the girl offered her cheek with eyelids lowered, and Roman kissed her.
“I did not recognize her,” said Roman, “she has grown so big.”
His mother laughed softly. “You, too, Roman, you have grown much bigger—and handsome.”
“Naturally our Roman is handsome,” said the old man, “our own Roman, old lady.”
Again the mother kissed her son. Roman seated himself upon a chair in the veranda, the old man placed himself on his right, and the mother on the left; they watched him, feasting their eyes upon him.
“My darling! my darling!” he said to the old woman, “it is long since I have seen you.”
In the end they grew silent, looking intently at one another, smiling. The gentle rustle of the lime trees broke the heat and stillness of the August day.
“Whence do you come, Roman?” questioned the old man suddenly.
“From Warsaw,” said his son, raising his head.