The telegrapher was bowing his farewell to her, but she did not see him; she saw only how her father slowly turned about and entered the office.
"Forever! . . ." she whispered. Orlowski came in for supper at the usual hour.
Krenska, in spite of her joy at Janina's departure, was uneasy; she glanced into his eyes with a feeling of fear, walked about even more silently than usual, and was humbler and smaller than ever before.
Orlowski seemed to be wrestling with himself, for he did not burst forth in curses and did not even mention Janina.
On the following day only he locked Janina's room and put the key away in his desk.
He did not sleep that night; his eyes were sunken and his face deathly pale. Krenska heard him walking up and down his room all night, but on the following day he was at work as usual.
At dinner Krenska plucked up courage to speak to him about something.
"Aha . . . I have still to settle with you!" he said.
Krenska grew pale. She began to speak to him about Janina, about her sympathy for her, how she had tried to dissuade her from leaving, how earnestly she had begged her.
"You're a fool!" he hurled at her. "She left because she wanted to. . . . Let her break her neck, if she wants to!"