"You know, Pan Victor, that I am dying about Eli. When I read him, it seems to me that I hear music; and involuntarily I apply to myself that verse of Uyeiski,-- "'I lie on a cloud, Melted in calm, With a dreamy tear in my eye: I hear no breath. A sea of violet odor Surrounds me; With palm placed in palm, I sail--I fly--' "Ah!" exclaimed she, suddenly, "if I knew him, I am sure that I should be in love with him. We should understand each other to a certainty." "Happily he is married," answered Pan Victor, dryly. Panna Yadviga inclined her head a little, repressed a half smile on her lips, till the dimples appeared in her cheeks, and, looking askance at Pan Victor, she inquired,-- "Why do you say, happily?" "Happily for all those for whom life would have no attraction in the case you have just mentioned." When he said this, Pan Victor was very tragic. "Oh, you attribute too much to me!" Pan Victor passed into lyric poetry, "You are an angel-- "Oh, that is all well enough--but let us talk of something else." "Then you do not like Eli?" "A moment ago I began to hate him." "Oh, you put on ugly faces! I ask you to become serene, and tell me your favorite poet." "Sovinski," muttered Pan Victor, gloomily. "But I simply fear him. Irony, blood, fire--wild outbursts." "Such things do not terrify me at all," said Pan Victor; then he looked so valiant, that a dog, which had run out from a cottage, hid its tail under its belly and withdrew in fright. Now they arrived at the house of four tenements; in the window appeared an upturned nose, a goatee, and a bright-green cravat; they halted before a pretty cottage covered with wild grapevines, and looking with its rear windows on a pond. "You see what a nice little house this is; it is the only poetical place in Barania-Glova." "What house is it?" "Formerly, it was an asylum. Here village children learned to read, when their parents were in the field. Papa had this house built purposely." "And what is in it now?" "Now, kegs of brandy are in it--" But they did not finish their thoughts, for they came to a great puddle in which lay a number of pigs, "justly so-called for their filth." To pass around that puddle, they had to go near Repa's cottage; so they turned in that direction. Repa's wife was sitting on a log before the gate, with her elbows on her knees, and her chin on one hand. Her face was pale, and, as it were, turned to stone; her eyes were red; her look dull, and fixed on the distance without thought. She had not even heard the passers-by; but the young woman saw her, and said,-- "Good-evening!" Marysia stood up, and, approaching, seized the feet of Panna Yadviga and Pan Victor, and began to weep in silence. "What is the matter?" asked the young lady. "Oh, thou my golden berry, my dawn! perhaps God has sent thee to me! Take thou my part, our consolation!"