"No. I'm not angry. I admit you're entirely right."
"With you, it will not be that way, I feel it. Come, let us go now!" he suddenly cried, jumping up from the bench.
"I will say something more . . ." said Glogowski when they were already walking down the shaded paths on their way back, "I will repeat what I said on the day that I first met you at Bielany; let us be friends! . . . It's no use trying to deny it, man is a gregarious beast: he always needs someone near him so that his lot on this earth may be half-way bearable . . . Man does not stand alone; he must lean against and link up with others, go together with them and feel together with them to be able to accomplish anything. To be sure, one kindred soul suffices. Let us be friends!"
"All right," said Janina, "but I will lay down one condition."
"Quick, for God's sake! For perhaps I will not accept it!"
"It is this: give me your word of honor that you will never, never speak to me about love, and that you will not fall in love with me. You can even confide in me, if you wish, all your love affairs and disappointments."
"Agreed, all along the line! I seal that with my solemn word of honor!" cried Glogowski.
They gravely pressed each others' hands.
"This is a union of pure souls with ideal aims!" he laughed, winking his eyes. "Something makes me feel so merry now that I could take my own head in my hands and kiss it heartily."
"It is a premonition of the triumph of your Churls."