"So much the better. She manages so well near the little girl. Good-night." "Good-night." Pan Stanislav was alone again, and began to think of Marynia. At the very intelligence that he would see her soon he could not think of aught else; and now he put the question to himself: "In what lies this wonderful secret of nature in virtue of which I, for example, did not fall in love with Pani Emilia, decidedly more beautiful than Marynia, likely better, sweeter, more capable of loving,--but with that girl whom I know incomparably less, and, justly or unjustly, honor less?" Still with every approach of his to Marynia there rose in him immediately all those impulses which a man may feel at sight of a chosen woman, while a real womanly form, like that of Pani Emilia, made no other impression on him than if she had been a painting or a carving. Why is this, and why, the more culture a man has, the more his nerves become subtile, and his sensitiveness keener, the greater difference does he make between woman and woman? Pan Stanislav had no answer to this save the one which that doctor in love with Panna Kraslavski had given him: "I estimate her coolly, but I cannot tear my soul from her." That was rather the description of a phenomenon than an answer, for which, moreover, he had not the time, since Marynia came in at that moment. They nodded in salutation; he raised a chair then, and put it down softly at Litka's bed, letting Marynia know by a sign that she was to sit there. She began to speak first, or rather, to whisper. "Go to tea now. Professor Vaskovski is here." "And Pani Emilia?" "She could not sit up. She said that it was a wonder to her, but she must sleep." "I know why: the doctor hypnotized her, and he did well. The little girl is indeed better." Marynia gazed into his eyes; but he repeated,-- "She is really better--if the attack will not return, and there is hope that it will not." "Ah! praise be to God! But go now and drink tea." He preferred, however, to whisper to her near by and confidentially, so he said,-- "I will, I will; but later. Let us arrange meanwhile so that you may rest. I have heard that your father is ill. Of course you have been watching over him." "Father is well now, and I wish to take Emilia's place absolutely. She told me that the servants had not slept either all last night, for the child's condition was alarming before the attack. It is needful now that some one be on the watch always. I should wish, therefore, so to arrange that we--that is, I, you, and Emilka--should follow in turn." "Very well; but to-day I will remain. If not here, I shall be at call in the next chamber. When did you hear of the attack?" "I did not hear of it. I came as I do usually in the evening to learn what was to be heard."