Marynia returned soon, with the announcement that tea was ready; her eyes were somewhat red, but her face was clear and calm. When, a little later, Bigiel and Plavitski sat down at cards again, she conversed with Pan Stanislav in that quiet, confiding tone which people use who are very near to each other, and who have many mutual relations. It is true that those mutual relations between them had been created by the death of Litka and the misfortune of Pani Emilia,--hence the conversation could not be gladsome; but in spite of that, Marynia's eyes, if not her lips, smiled at Pan Stanislav, and were at once thoughtful and clear. Later in the evening, after his departure, Marynia did not name him in her mind, when she thought of him, otherwise, than "Pan Stas." Pan Stanislav, on his part, returned home feeling calmer by far than he had since Litka's death. While pacing his chamber, he made frequent halts before the little girl's photograph, and looked, too, at the four birches painted by Marynia. He thought that the bond fastened between him and Marynia by Litka was becoming closer each day, as if without any one's will, and simply by some mysterious force of things. He thought, too, that if he lacked the former original desire to make that bond permanent, his courage would almost fail to cut it decisively, especially so soon after Litka's death. Late in the night he sat down to the lists sent by Mashko. At times, however, he made mistakes in the reckoning, for he saw before him Marynia's head inclining forward, and her tears falling on the box of pearls. Next morning he bought the oak in Kremen, very profitably, for that matter. CHAPTER XXII.