A moment of silence came, after which Marynia asked Pan Stanislav if he would go to the garden. They went, and soon found themselves at the edge of the pond. Pan Stanislav, who, while abroad, had been a member of various sporting clubs, pushed to the water's edge the boat, which Gantovski could not manage; but it turned out that the boat was leaky, and that they could not row in it. "This is a case of my management," said Marynia, laughing; "there is a leak everywhere. And I know not how to find an excuse, since the pond and the garden belong to me only. But before it is launched I will have the boat mended." "As I live, it is the same boat in which I was forbidden to sail when a boy." "Quite possibly. Have you not noticed that things change less by far, and last longer than people? At times it is sad to think of this." "Let us hope to last longer than this moss-covered boat, which is as water-soaked as a sponge. If this is the boat of my childhood, I have no luck with it. In old times I was not permitted to sail in it, and now I have hurt my hand with some rusty nail." Saying this, he drew out his handkerchief and began to wind it around a finger of his right hand, with his left hand, but so awkwardly that Marynia said,-- "You cannot manage it; you need help;" and she began to bind up his hand, which he twisted a little so as to increase the difficulty of her task, since it was pleasant for him to feel her delicate fingers touching his. She saw that he was hindering her, and glanced at him; but the moment their eyes met, she understood the reason, and, blushing, bent down as if tying more carefully. Pan Stanislav felt her near him, he felt the warmth coming from her, and his heart beat more quickly. "I have wonderfully pleasant memories," said he, "of my former vacations here; but this time I shall take away still pleasanter ones. You are very kind, and besides exactly like some flower in this Kremen. On my word, I do not exaggerate." Marynia understood that the young man said that sincerely, a little too daringly perhaps, but more through innate vivacity than because they were alone; she was not offended, therefore, but she began to make playful threats with her pleasant low voice,-- "I beg you not to say pretty things to me; if you do, I shall bind your hand badly, and then run away." "You may bind the hand badly, but stay. The evening is so beautiful." Marynia finished her work with the handkerchief, and they walked farther. The evening was really beautiful. The sun was setting; the pond, not wrinkled with a breath of wind, shone like fire and gold. In the distance, beyond the water, the alders were dozing quietly; the nearer trees were outlined with wonderful distinctness in the ruddy air. In the yard beyond the house, storks were chattering. "Kremen is charming, very charming!" said Pan Stanislav. "Very," answered Marynia.