Still worse, Antek's head looks like the summit of the Carpathian Mountains, covered with forests, torn by columns of wind. I must put up with this, for there is no comb on earth which could conquer that forelock; but I force him to put on a frock coat, instead of the blouse which he wears every day. He does this, but has the look of one of his corpses, and falls into sepulchral humor. On the street people turn to look at his knotty stick and his immense tattered hat; but I am accustomed to this. We ring; we enter. In the antechamber, the voice of Cousin Yachkovich reaches me; he is discoursing on overpopulation. Cousin Yachkovich is always discoursing on overpopulation; that is his hobby. Kazia looks in her muslin like a cloud, and pretty. Suslovski is in a dress-coat; the relatives are in dress-coats; the old aunts are in silk gowns. Antek's entrance makes an impression. They look at him with a certain disquiet. He looks around gloomily, and informs Suslovski that in truth he would not have come "unless Vladek were getting married, or something of that sort." This "something of that sort" is received most fatally. Suslovski straightens himself with dignity, and inquires what is meant by "something of that sort." Antek answers that it is all one to him; but "for Vladek" he might even knock his heels off, especially if he knew that Pan Suslovski cared anything about the matter. My future father-in-law looks at his wife, at me, at Kazia, with a look in which amazement is struggling with mortification. Happily I save the position, and, with presence of mind rare with me, beg my future father-in-law to present me to those members of his family with whom I am still unacquainted. The presentation follows; then we sit down. Kazia sits near me, and lets her hand stay in mine. The room is full of people; but all are stiff and silent. The atmosphere is heavy. Cousin Yachkovich begins again at his talk on overpopulation. My Antek looks under the table. In the silence the voice of Yachkovich is heard with increasing shrillness; not having a front tooth, whenever he has to pronounce sz, he utters a prolonged hiss. "The most dreadful catastrophe may arise from this for all Europe," said Yachkovich. "Emigration," put in some one from aside. "Statistics show, that emigration will not prevent overpopulation." Suddenly Antek raises his head and turns his fishy eyes toward the speaker. "Then Chinese customs should be introduced among us," says he, with a gloomy bass. "With permission,--what Chinese customs?" "In China parents have the right to smother imbecile children. Well, then, with us, children should have the right to kill imbecile parents." It has come! The bolt has struck; the sofa groans under the aunts; and I am lost. Suslovski closes his eyes, and loses speech for a season. Silence. Then is heard the voice of my coming father-in-law, trembling with terror,-- "My dear sir, I hope, that as a Christian--"