The windows of the drawing-room were lighted; the sound of the piano came through them. I gave the horse to Franek, and entered. Hania was playing some song which I did not know; she was playing for herself, falsifying the melody with all a dilettante's confidence, for it was not long since she had begun to learn, but it was more than sufficient to enchant my spirit, which was much more in love than it was musical. When I entered, she smiled at me without ceasing to play. I threw myself into an armchair standing opposite, and looked at her. Over the music-rack her clear, serene forehead was visible, and her brows, outlined symmetrically. Her eyelashes were downcast, for she was looking at the keys. She played some time yet, then stopped, and, raising her eyes on me, said in a fondling, soft voice,-- "Pan Henryk?" "What, Hania?" "I wanted to ask something-- Ah! Have you invited Selim for to-morrow?" "No. Father wishes us to go to Ustrytsi to-morrow, for a package has come from mother for Pani Ustrytski." Hania was silent, and struck a few soft notes; but it was evident that she did so only mechanically, while thinking of something else, for after a while she raised her eyes and said,-- "Pan Henryk?" "What, Hania?" "I wanted to ask you about something--Ah! here it is! Is that Yozia in Warsaw very pretty?" That was too much; anger, mixed with vexation, pressed my heart. I approached the piano quickly; my lips were trembling when I answered,-- "Not prettier than thou. Be at rest. Thou mayst try thy charms boldly on Selim." Hania rose from the piano stool; a burning blush of offence covered her face. "Pan Henryk! what do you say?" "That which thou wert aiming at." I seized my hat, bowed to her, and left the room. CHAPTER VII.