The examination would have come out on the whole in her favor, were it not that conversation dragged somewhat. This was explained by the fact that they saw each other for the first time in life; besides, she received him alone, which might be awkward for a young lady. Finally, she knew that Pan Stanislav had not come to make a visit, but to ask for money. Such was the case in reality. His mother had given, a very long time before, twelve thousand and some rubles for a mortgage on Kremen, which Pan Stanislav wished to have redeemed,--first, because there were enormous arrears of interest, and second, since he was a partner in a mercantile house in Warsaw, he had entered into various transactions and needed capital. He had promised himself beforehand to make no compromise, and to exact his own absolutely. In affairs of that sort, it was a point with him always to appear unyielding. He was not such by nature, perhaps; but he had made inflexibility a principle, and therewith a question of self-love. In consequence of this, he overshot the mark frequently, as people do who argue something into themselves. Hence, while looking at that agreeable, but evidently drowsy young lady, he repeated to himself, in spite of the sympathy which was roused in him,-- "That is all well, but you must pay." After a while he said, "I have heard that you busy yourself with everything; do you like land management?" "I love Kremen greatly," answered she. "I too loved Kremen when I was a boy; but I should not like to manage the place,--the conditions are so difficult." "Difficult, difficult. We do what we can." "That is it,--you do what you can." "I assist father, who is often in poor health." "I am not skilled in those matters, but, from what I see and hear, I infer that the greater number of agriculturists cannot count on a future." "We count on Providence." "Of course, but people cannot send creditors to Providence." Panna Plavitski's face was covered with a blush; a moment of awkward silence followed; and Pan Stanislav said to himself,-- "Since thou hast begun, proceed farther;" and he said,-- "You will permit me to explain the object of my coming." The young lady looked at him with a glance in which he might read, "Thou hast come just now; the hour is late. I am barely alive from fatigue: even the slightest delicacy might have restrained thee from beginning such a conversation." She answered aloud,-- "I know why you have come; but it may be better if you will speak about that with my father." "I beg your pardon." "But I beg pardon of you. People have a right to mention what belongs to them, and I am accustomed to that; but to-day is Saturday, and on Saturday there is so much work. Moreover, in affairs of this sort, you will understand--sometimes, when Jews come, I bargain with them; but this time I should prefer if you would speak with my father. It would be easier for both."