"A fine bouquet!" exclaimed Wicek, eyeing the flowers standing in the vase. "You might still melt it. . . ."
"Speak like a human being!" said Janina, handing back the signed paper.
"That means I could still sell that bouquet for you."
"But who sells such bouquets and who buys them? . . ."
"Pardon me, miss, but I see you are still green! Some ladies as soon as they receive flowers, sell them to the old woman who peddles flowers in the evening at the theater. I could get a ruble easy for that. If you would give it to me . . ."
"You can't have it. . . . But here's something else for you."
Wicek humbly kissed Janina's hand, overjoyed with the ruble she gave him.
After Wicek's departure Janina changed the water in the vase with the flowers and was just standing it on the table when Sowinska entered with her breakfast.
Sowinska was to-day all radiant: her gray, owlish eyes were beaming with unaccustomed friendliness.
The old woman stood the coffee on the table and, pointing to the bouquet, remarked with a smile: "What beautiful flowers! Are they from that gentleman who was here yesterday?"