"Yes; because thou knowest not how unhappy he was in Reichenhall, and now he is still more unhappy. He has no one in the world." "He has thy friendship, and he loves Litka." "My Marynia, that is something different. I am thankful to him from my whole soul for his attachment to Litka; but that is something different altogether, and thou knowest thyself that he loves thee a hundred times more than Litka." In the chamber it had grown dark already; but soon the servant brought in a lamp, and, placing it on the table, went out. By the lamplight Pani Emilia beheld a whitish form crouched on the sofa near the door which led to Litka's room. "Who is there? Is that Litka?" "I, mamma." In her voice there was something; Pani Emilia rose and went hurriedly toward her. "When didst thou come out? What is the matter?" "I feel so ill in some way." Pani Emilia sat down on the sofa, and, drawing the little girl up to her, saw tears in her eyes. "Art thou crying, Litus? What is the matter?" "Oh, so sad, so sad!" And, inclining her head to her mother's shoulder, she began to cry. She was in reality sad, for she had learned that "Pan Stas" was more unhappy than in Reichenhall, and that he loves Marynia a hundred times more than her. That evening, when going to sleep and in her nightdress, she nestled up to her mother's ear and whispered,-- "Mamma, mamma, I have one very great sin on my conscience." "My poor little girl, what is troubling thee?" She whispered in a still lower voice, "I do not like Panna Marynia." CHAPTER XIII.