I have obtained an unlimited leave of absence for Eva. She begins to wear her hair as a village maiden; she dresses very modestly and wears robes closed to the neck. This becomes her very much. The scene in the dressing-room has not been repeated. Eva does not permit it. The utmost right I have is to kiss her hands. That makes me greatly impatient; but I flatter myself that it affects her in the same way. She loves me madly. We spend whole days together. I have begun to give her lessons in drawing. She is swallowed up in those lectures, and painting in general. CHAPTER XIX. Thunder hurling Zeus; at what art thou gazing from the summit of Olympus? Things are done of which philosophers have never dreamed. On the eve of my marriage Antek comes to me, nudges me with his elbow, and, turning aside his dishevelled head, says gloomily,-- "Vladek, dost thou know I have committed a crime?" "Well, since thou hast mentioned it," I answer, "what sort of a crime?" Antek looks at the floor fixedly, and says, as if to himself,-- "That such a drunkard as I, such an idiot without talent, such a moral and physical bankrupt should marry such a maiden as Kazia is an out-and-out crime." I do not believe my ears; but I throw myself on my friend's neck without regard to the fact that he pushes me away. His marriage will be in a couple of days. CHAPTER XX. After a residence of some months in Rome, Eva and I receive a splendid card inviting us to the wedding of Pan Ostrynski and Panna Helena Turno, primo voto, Kolchanovski. We cannot go, for Eva's health does not permit. Eva paints continually, and makes immense progress. I receive a gold medal in Pest. A certain rich Croat bought my picture. I have entered into relations with Goupil. CHAPTER XXI. A son is born to me in Verona. Eva herself says that she has never seen such a child. Uncommon. CHAPTER XXII. For some months we are in Warsaw. I have fitted up a splendid studio. We visit the Ostrynskis rather frequently. He has sold "The Kite," and is now "President of the Society for Distributing Barley Grits to Laborers out of Employment." Nothing can give an idea of his lordliness or the gratitude with which he is surrounded. He pats me on the shoulder and says to me: "Well, benefactor!" He patronizes literary talents also, and receives on Wednesdays. She is as beautiful as a dream. They have no children. CHAPTER XXIII. Oh, save me or I die of laughter. Antek and his wife have come home from Paris. She poses as the wife of an artist of golden Bohemia; he wears silk shirts, has a forelock, and wears his beard wedge-form. I understand all; I understand that she could overcome his habits, his character; but how did she conquer his hair?--that remains for me an endless puzzle.