"Litka begged so every day to come home." "Dost not like to live abroad?" asked Pan Stanislav. "No." "Homesick for Warsaw?" "Yes." "And for me? Now tell quickly, or it will be bad." Litka looked at her mother, at Marynia, and then at Pan Stanislav; and at last she said,-- "And for Pan Stas too." "Take this for that!" said Pan Stanislav, and he seized her little hand to kiss it; but she defended herself as she could. At last she hid her hand. He, turning to Marynia, and showing his sound white teeth, said,-- "As you see, we are always quarrelling; but we love each other." "That is the way generally," answered Marynia. And he, looking her straight and honestly in the eyes, said,-- "Oh that it were the way generally!" Marynia blushed slightly and grew more serious, but said nothing, and began to converse with Pani Emilia. Pan Stanislav turned to Litka. "But where is Professor Vaskovski? Has he gone to Italy?" "No. He stopped at Chenstohova, and will come the day after to-morrow." "Is he well?" "He is." Here the little girl looked at her friend, and said,-- "But Pan Stas has grown thin; hasn't he, mamma?" "Indeed he has," answered Pani Emilia. Pan Stanislav was changed somewhat, for he had been sleeping badly, and the cause of that sleeplessness was sitting before him in the carriage. But he laid the blame on cares and labor in his business. Meanwhile they arrived at Pani Emilia's. When the lady went to greet her servants, Litka ran after her. Pan Stanislav and Marynia remained alone in the dining-room. "You have no nearer acquaintance here, I suppose, than Pani Emilia?" said Pan Stanislav. "None nearer; none so beloved." "In life kindness is needed, and she is very kind and well-wishing. I, for example, who have no family, can look on this as the house of a relative. Warsaw seems different to me when they are here." Then he added, with a voice less firm, "This time I comfort myself also with their arrival, because there will be at last something mutual and harmonious between us." Here he looked at her, with a prayer in his eyes, as if he wished to say, "Give me a hand in conciliation; be kind to me, too, since a pleasant day has come to us." But she, just because she could not be for him altogether indifferent, went always farther in the direction of dislike. The more he showed cordial kindness, the more sympathetic he was, the more his action seemed to her unheard of, and the more offended she felt at heart.