"If old Plavitski does not eat it up, or play it away, or waste it." "I must think of something. I caused the sale; I must help." "Thou?" asked Bigiel, with astonishment. "I thought that thy relations were broken forever." "I shall try to renew them. I will visit the Plavitskis to-morrow." "I do not know that they will be glad to see thee." "And I myself do not know." "Dost wish I will go with thee? For it is a question of breaking the ice. They may not receive thee alone. It is a pity that my wife is not here. I sit by myself whole evenings and play on the violoncello. During the day I have time enough too; I can go with thee." Pan Stanislav, however, refused, and next day he dressed himself with great care and went alone. He knew that he was a presentable man; and though usually he did not think much of this, he resolved now to omit nothing which might speak in his favor. On the way he had his head full of thoughts as to what he should say, what he should do in this case or that one, and he tried to foresee how they would receive him. "I will be as simple and outspoken as possible," said he to himself; "that is the best method absolutely." And, before he noted it, he found himself at the Hotel Rome. His heart began to beat then more quickly. "It would not be bad," thought he, "if I should not find them at home. I could leave a card and see later on if Plavitski would acknowledge my visit." But straightway he said to himself, "Don't be a coward," and went forward. Learning from the servant that Plavitski was at home, he sent in his card, and after a while was invited to enter. Plavitski was sitting at a table writing letters, drawing at intervals smoke from a pipe with a great amber mouthpiece. At sight of Pan Stanislav he raised his head, and, looking at him through gold-rimmed glasses, said,-- "I beg, I beg!" "I learned from Bigiel that you and Panna Plavitski were in Warsaw," said Pan Stanislav, "and I came to pay my respects." "That was very pretty on thy part," answered Plavitski, "and, to tell the truth, I did not expect it. We parted in a bitter manner and through thy fault. But since thou hast felt it thy duty to visit me, I, as the older, open my arms to thee a second time." The opening of the arms, however, was confined to reaching across the table a hand, which Pan Stanislav pressed, saying in his own mind,-- "May the Evil One take me, if I come here to thee, and if I feel toward thee any obligation!" After a while he asked, "You and your daughter are coming to live in Warsaw?" "Yes. I am an old man of the country, accustomed to rise with the sun and to work in the fields; it will be grievous for me in your Warsaw. But it was not right to imprison my child; hence I made one sacrifice more for her."