Here he shrugged his shoulders, and, turning to Pan Stanislav, inquired,-- "What are the Plavitskis doing? I have not visited them yet, though I long to see my golden Marynia." "Panna Marynia is well," answered Pan Stanislav. "But the old man?" "A few days ago a distant relative of his died,--a very wealthy woman; he is counting, therefore, on an inheritance. He told me so yesterday; but I hear that she has left all her property for benevolent purposes. The will is to be opened to-day or to-morrow." "May God have inspired her to leave something to Marynia! But let us come to our affair. I need not tell you, gentlemen, that it is our duty to finish it amicably, if we can." Kresovski bowed. Introductions like this, which he had heard in his life God knows how often, annoyed him. "We are profoundly convinced of this duty." "So I had hoped," answered Yamish, benevolently. "I confess myself that Pan Gantovski had not the least right to act as he did. I recognize even as just that he should be punished for it; hence I shall persuade him to all, even very considerable, concessions, fitted to assure proper satisfaction to Pan Mashko." Kresovski took from his pocket the folded paper, and gave it, with a smile, to Pan Yamish, saying,-- "Pan Mashko demands nothing more than that Pan Gantovski should read this little document, to begin with, in presence of his own and Pan Mashko's seconds, as well as in presence of Pan Mashko's subordinates, who were present at the scene, and then write under it his own respected name." Pan Yamish, finding his spectacles among his papers, put them on his nose, and began to read. But as he read, his face grew red, then pale; after that he began to pant. Pan Stanislav and Kresovski could scarcely believe their eyes that that was the same Pan Yamish who a moment before was ready for every concession. "Gentlemen," said he, with a broken voice, "Pan Gantovski has acted like a water-burner, like a thoughtless man; but Pan Gantovski is a noble, and this is what I answer in his name to Pan Mashko." When he said this, he tore the paper in four pieces, and threw them on the floor. The thing had not been foreseen. Kresovski began to meditate whether Yamish had not offended his dignity of a second by this act, and in one moment his face began to grow icy, and contract like that of an angry dog; but Pan Stanislav, who loved Pan Yamish, was pleased at his indignation. "Pan Mashko is injured in such an unusual degree that he cannot ask for less; but Pan Kresovski and I foresaw your answer, and it only increases the respect which we have for you." Pan Yamish sat down, and, being somewhat asthmatic, breathed rather heavily for a time; then he grew quiet, and said,--