"Oo, Pan Selim!" And Hania frowned; but Selim, putting his palms together, made himself pleasant with that incomparable sweetness in his eyes, and began,-- "Panna Hania, be not angry. What has the poor little Tartar done? Be not angry! Let the lady laugh." Hania looked at him, and as she looked the cloud vanished from her forehead. He simply enchanted her. A smile wandered in the corners of her mouth; her eyes grew bright, her face radiant; and at last she answered in a soft, mild voice,-- "Very well, I will not be angry; but I beg you to be nice." "I will, as I love Mohammed, I will." "And do you love your Mohammed much?" "As dogs a beggar." And then both laughed again. "But now tell me whom does Pan Henryk love? I asked him, but he would not tell me." "Henryk? Do you know" (here he looked at me askance) "he is not in love with any one yet, perhaps, but he will love. Oh, I know perfectly whom! and as to me--" "As to you, what?" inquired Hania, trying to conceal her confusion. "I would do the very same--but wait a bit; he may be in love already." "I beg thee to stop, Selim." "Thou, my honest boy," said Selim, putting his arm around my neck-- "Ah, if you knew how honest he is." "Oh, I know that," said Hania; "I remember what he was to me after my grandfather's death." A cloud of sadness flew between us then. "I will tell you," said Selim, wishing to change the subject, "that after examination we had a little feast with our master--" "And drank?" "Yes. Oh, that is the custom which one cannot avoid. So while we were drinking, I, being, as you know, a giddy fellow, raised a toast to you. I acted unwisely, but Henryk sprang up: 'How dare you mention Hania in such a place as this?' said he to me; for that was a wine-cellar. We came near fighting. But he will not let any one offend you, no, no--" Hania gave me her hand. "How good you are, Pan Henryk!" "Well," answered I, carried away by Selim's words, "say thyself, Hania, is not Selim just as honest, since he tells this?" "Oh, what great honesty!" said Selim, laughing. "But it is," answered Hania; "you are worthy of each other, and we shall have such a pleasant time in company." "You will be our queen!" cried Selim, with enthusiasm. "Gentlemen! Hania! we invite you to tea," called Pani d'Yves from the garden veranda. We went to tea, all three of us in the very best feeling. The table was set under the veranda; the lights, shielded by glass tubes, burned brightly, and moths in a swarm circled around them; they butted against the glass walls of the tubes; the leaves of wild grapevines rustled, moved by the warm night air; and beyond the poplars rose a great golden moon. The last conversation between Hania, Selim, and myself had brought us to a wonderfully mild, friendly tone. That calm and quiet evening acted also on the older persons. My father's face and the priest's were as serene as the sky.