"But are they healed?" answered Marynia, "or is it possible to say to
her, 'Do not go'? I thought myself that it would not be well, but grew
convinced of the contrary. At the graveyard she wept much, but was the
better for it. On the way home she remembered what Professor Vaskovski
had told her, and the thought is for her the only consolation,--the
only."
"Let her have even such a one," answered Pan Stanislav.
"You see, I did not dare to mention Litka at first, but she speaks of
her all the time. Do not fear to speak to her of the child, for it
gives her evident solace."
Here the young lady continued in a lower, and, as it were, an uncertain
voice, "She reproaches herself continually for having listened to the
assurances of the doctor the last night, and gone to sleep; she is
sorry for those last moments, which she might have passed with Litka,
and that thought tortures her. To-day, when we were returning from
the graveyard, she asked about the smallest details. She asked how
the child looked, how long she slept, whether she took medicine, what
she said, whether she spoke to us; then she implored me to remember
everything, and not omit a single word."
"And you did not omit anything?"
"No."
"How did she receive it?"
"She cried very, very much."
Both grew silent, and were silent rather long; then Marynia said,--
"I will go and see what is happening to her."
After a while she returned.
"She is sleeping," said the young lady. "Praise be to God!"
Indeed, Pan Stanislav did not see Pani Emilia that evening; she
had fallen into a kind of lethargic slumber. At parting, Marynia
pressed his hand again long and vigorously, and inquired almost with
submission,--
"You do not take it ill of me that I repeated to Pani Emilia Litka's
last wish?"
"At such moments," answered Pan Stanislav, "I cannot think of myself:
for me it is a question only of Pani Emilia; and if your words caused
her solace, I thank you for them."
"Till to-morrow, then?"
"Till to-morrow."
Pan Stanislav took farewell, and went out. While descending the steps,
he thought,--
"She considers herself my betrothed."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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