Pan Stanislav looked at him with amazement. On the lips of Mashko, who, in every word, followed society observances so closely, this was something unheard of. Mashko, however, spoke on,-- "But let that pass; thou knowest how near we were to quarrelling before Litka's death. I had not in mind thy great love for that little maiden; I forgot that thou wert disturbed and annoyed. I acted rudely; the fault was on my side entirely, and I beg thy pardon." "That is a forgotten affair," said Pan Stanislav. "I revive it because I have a service to beg of thee. The affair is of this kind: I have not friends, blood relatives; I haven't them, or if I have, it is not worth while to exhibit them. Now, I must find groomsmen, and, in truth, I do not know well where to look for them. I have managed the business of various young lords, as thou knowest; but to ask the first young fellow whom I meet, because he has a title, does not beseem me, and I am unwilling to do so. With me it is a question of having groomsmen who are people of position, and, I tell thee openly, with prominent names. Those ladies, too, attach great importance to this matter. Wilt thou be a groomsman for me?" "In other circumstances I would not refuse; but I will tell thee how it is. Look at me: I have no crape on my hat nor white tape on my coat, therefore I am not in mourning; but I give thee my word that I am in deeper mourning than if my own child were dead." "That is true; I had not thought of that," said Mashko. "I beg thy pardon." These words impressed Pan Stanislav. "But if this is very important; if, in truth, thou art unable to find another,--let it be according to thy wish; but I say sincerely that for me, after such a funeral, it will be difficult to assist at a wedding." Pan Stanislav did not say, it is true, at such a wedding, but Mashko divined his thought. "There is another circumstance, too," continued he. "Thou must have heard of a certain poor little doctor, who fell in love to the death with thy betrothed. She was free not to return his love, no man will reproach her for that; but he, poor fellow, went his way somewhere to the land where pepper grows, and the deuce took him. Dost understand? I was in friendship with that doctor; he confided his misfortune to me, and wept out his secret. Dost understand? In these conditions to be groomsman for another--say thyself." "And did that man really die of love for my betrothed?" "But hast thou not heard of it?" "Not only have I not heard, but I cannot believe my own ears." "Knowest thou what, Mashko, marriage changes a man; but I see that betrothal does also,--I do not recognize thee simply." "Because, as I have said, I am so weary that breath fails me, and at such times the mask falls." "What dost thou mean by that?"