"But he seems quite slender," said Marynia. "Two years ago he was almost fat; but since he began to use a bicycle, fence, follow the Banting system, drink Karlsbad in summer, and go in winter to Italy or Egypt to perspire, he has made himself slender again. But I have not said truly that he has a hatred for corpulence; it is his wife who has, and he does this through regard for her. He dances whole nights, too, at balls, for the same reason." "He is a _sclavus saltans_," said Pan Stanislav. "Svirski has told us of this already." "I understand that it is possible to love a wife," said Bigiel; "it is possible to consider her, according to the saying, as the apple of the eye. Very well! But, as I love God, I have heard that he writes verses to his wife; that he opens books with his eyes closed, marks a verse with his finger, and divines to himself from what he reads whether he is loved. If it comes out badly, he falls into melancholy. He is in love like a student,--counts all her glances, strives to divine what this or that word is to mean, kisses not only her feet and hands, but when he thinks that no one is looking, he kisses her gloves. God knows what it is like! and that for whole years." "How much in love!" said Marynia. "Would it be to thy liking were I such?" asked Pan Stanislav. She thought a while, and answered, "No; for in that case thou wouldst be another man." "Oh, that is a Machiavelli," said Bigiel. "It would be worth while to write down such an answer, for that is at once a praise, and somewhat of a criticism,--a testimony that as it is, is best, and that it would be possible to wish for something still better. Manage this for thyself, man." "I take it for praise," said Pan Stanislav, "though you" (here he turned to Pani Bigiel), "will say surely that it is resignation." "The outside is love," answered Pani Bigiel, laughing; "resignation may come in time, as lining, if cold comes." Zavilovski looked on Marynia with curiosity; she seemed to him comely, sympathetic, and her answer arrested his attention. He thought, however, that only a woman could speak so who was greatly in love, and one for whom there was never enough of feeling. He began to look at Pan Stanislav with a certain jealousy; and because he was a great hermit, the words of the song came at once to his head, "My neighbor has a darling wife." Meanwhile, since he had been silent a whole hour, or had spoken a couple of words merely, it seemed to him that he ought to engage in the conversation somehow. But timidity restrained him, and, besides, a toothache, which, when the sharpest pain had passed, was felt yet at moments acutely enough. This pain had taken all his courage; but he rallied finally, and asked,-- "But Pani Osnovski?"