"Of a pedagogue?" repeated Vaskovski. "Why, since a morsel of bread fell to me, as from heaven,[3] I renounced the slaughter of innocents and the rôle of Herod; secondly, you are mistaken in saying that I utter a decree. Almost with joy I see and note new proofs every hour that we are at the end of an epoch, and that a new one will begin shortly." "We are in the open sea, and will not turn to shore soon," muttered Mashko. "Give us peace," said Pan Stanislav. But the unconquered Vaskovski continued,-- "Amateurism leads to refinement; in refinement great ideals perish, and yield to desire for enjoyment. All this is nothing but paganism. No one can realize to what a degree we are paganized. But is there something? There is the Aryan spirit, which does not ossify, which never grows cold,--a spirit which has within it the divine afflatus, hence creative power; and this spirit feels hampered in pagan fetters. The reaction has set in already, and a rebirth in Christ will begin in this field, as in others. That is undoubted." Vaskovski, who had eyes like a child,--that is, reflecting only external objects and ever fixed, as it were, on infinity,--fixed them on the window, through which were visible gray clouds pierced here and there by sun-rays. "It is a pity that my head aches, for that will be a curious epoch," said Bukatski. But Mashko, who called Vaskovski "a saw," and was annoyed by his discussions, begun from any cause or without cause, took from the side-pocket of his coat a cigar, bit off the end, and, turning to Pan Stanislav, said,-- "Here, Stas, wouldst thou really sell that claim on Kremen?" "Decidedly. Why dost thou ask?" "Because I might consider it." "Thou?" "Yes. Thou knowest that I consider this kind of business frequently. We can talk about it. I cannot say anything certain to-day; but to-morrow I will ask thee to send me the mortgage on Kremen, and I will tell thee whether the thing is possible. Perhaps after dinner to-morrow thou wilt come to me to drink coffee; we may settle something then." "Well. If anything is to be done, I should prefer it done quickly; for the moment I finish with Bigiel, I wish to go abroad." "Whither art thou going?" asked Bukatski. "I do not know. It is too hot in the city. Somewhere to trees and water." "Another old prejudice," said Bukatski. "In the city there is always shade on one side of the street, which there is not in the country. I walk on the shady side quietly and feel well; therefore I never go out of the city in summer." "But Professor, art thou not going somewhere?" asked Pan Stanislav. "Of course. Pani Emilia has been urging me to go to Reichenhall. Perhaps I shall go." "Then let us go together. It is all one to me where I go. I like Salzburg, and, besides, it will be pleasant to see Pani Emilia and Litka." Bukatski stretched forth his transparent hand, took a tooth-pick from a glass, and, picking his teeth, began to speak in his cool and careless voice,--