"No, no, no! . . . Even though I have to run away from home, I will not marry!" she repeated to herself fiercely.
But immediately there followed this determination a feeling of womanly helplessness.
"I will go to my uncle's house. . . . Yes! . . . and from there I will go to the stage. No one can force me to stay here."
Thereupon, the blood would rush to her head with indignation and she would immediately gaze with courage into the future, determined to meet anything that might happen rather than submit.
She heard her father arise and then go to the window; she listened to the station bells, and to the jabbering of a few Jews who were boarding the train; she saw the red cap of her father, and the yellow striped cap of the telegrapher conversing through his window with some lady; she saw and heard all, but understood nothing, so absorbed was she in thought.
Krenska entered and in her habitual way began to circle around the table with quiet, cat-like motion before she spoke. Her face bore an expression of sympathy and there was tenderness in her voice.
"Miss Janina!"
The young woman glanced at her.
"No! I assure you that I will not!" she said with emphasis.
"Your father gave Grzesikiewicz his word of honor . . . he will demand unquestioning obedience . . . what will come of it?"