began a monologue again, more or less like the following,-- "Since all is lost, let all burn. I will sell the claim to any Jew; let him collect. Let them fly out on to the pavement; let the old man find some office; let her go as a governess, or marry Gantovski." Then he felt that he would agree to anything rather than the last thought. He would twist Gantovski's neck. Let any one take her, only not such a wooden head, such a bear, such a dolt. Beautiful epithets began to fall on the hapless Gantovski; and all the venom passed over on to him, as if he had been really the cause of whatever had happened. Arriving in such a man-eating temper at Chernyov, Pan Stanislav might, perhaps, like another Ugolino, have gnawed at once into Gantovski with his teeth, "where the skull meets the neck," if he had seen him at the station. Fortunately, instead of Gantovski's "skull," he saw only some officials, some peasants, a number of Jews, and the sad, but intelligent face of Councillor Yamish, who recognized him, and who, when the train arrived soon, invited him--thanks to good relations with the station-master--to a separate compartment. "I knew your father," said he; "and I knew him in his brilliant days. I found a wife in that neighborhood. I remember he had then Zvihov, Brenchantsa, Motsare, Rozvady in Lubelsk,--a fine fortune. Your grandfather was one of the largest landowners in that region; but now the estate must have passed into other hands." "Not now, but long since. My father lost all his property during his life. He was sickly; he lived at Nice, did not take care of what he had, and it went. Had it not been for the inheritance which, after his death, fell to my mother, it would have been difficult." "But you are well able to help yourself. I know your house; I have had business in hops with you through Abdulski." "Then Abdulski did business with you?" "Yes; and I must confess that I was perfectly satisfied with our relations. You have treated me well, and I see that you manage affairs properly." "No man can succeed otherwise. My partner, Bigiel, is an honest man, and I am not Plavitski." "How is that?" asked Yamish, with roused curiosity. Pan Stanislav, with the remnant of his anger unquenched, told the whole story. "H'm!" said Yamish; "since you speak of him without circumlocution, permit me to speak in like manner, though he is your relative." "He is no relative of mine: his first wife was a relative and friend of my mother,--that is all; he himself is no relative."