"Are you already packing?" inquired Mikolai. Then he added, "I suppose you can't await the day of your departure? But it hasn't come yet." Martin cast an uncertain glance at his friend. "I know that," he said softly, and then added hastily and in a louder voice, as though he wanted to convince himself and friend of the truth of what he was saying, "I'm not thinking of it either. There's plenty of time; I'm not in any hurry." Who believed that? Mikolai no longer believed his friend; why did he not look him in the face? _Psia krew_, something had come between Martin and him which he could not fathom, but it was there, nevertheless. He felt very dejected as he left the room, the walls of which had so often echoed with their laughter. Now no laughter resounded within the thick walls of the old house. He stumbled up the dark stairs to Rosa's room; he would go to her and say, "Come, laugh with me, Röschen, or at least talk to me. I can't bear it any longer." But when he suddenly burst into the room his sister jumped up with a terrified, eager look. She had been sitting near the low window, through whose curtained panes there hardly came a gleam of light. Some needlework had been lying on her lap, but it had slipped down and lay on the floor, and there was a [Pg 283] flushed, expectant look on her face. Who was that? "Oh, it's you." It sounded as if she were disappointed. She grew pale, and her lids drooped wearily, but she forced herself to smile. "Good morning, Mikolai." "Good morning, sister mine." He took hold of her hands and gazed at her. She seemed so tall--or had she looked like that for some time? "Pretty girl," he said playfully, and pinched her cheek that felt like velvet. "Don't talk nonsense." She freed herself indignantly and her face darkened. But when she noticed that he looked put out, she smiled a wan smile, and whispered as she clung to him, "Don't be cross. I must be preparing myself, you know, and such things are no longer for me." "What rubbish, what nonsense." He grew seriously angry. "I've had enough of these goings-on here. The old man drinks the whole day, you pray the whole day, and there's not a bit of happiness in the house. _Psia krew_, let the lightning----" "Sh!" She laid her hand on his mouth soothingly. "You mustn't swear, Mikolai," she begged softly, "it's sinful. Come, sit down." She drew him with her to her chair near the window, the only seat in the narrow room except the stool beside Marianna's bed. Her delicate fingers forced him down and he squatted in front of her, whilst she put her arms round his neck. "When I shall no longer be with you--it won't be long now, only three, four, five weeks more." She counted and then sighed, "No, still six." "So you count like Becker," he interrupted her angrily. "You're longing to get away like he is. Nice love and friendship that, I must say." [Pg 284]