"Let us suppose that she will not consider the statue, what further?" "In that case Lula will become Countess Pelski." "Will she consent? What sayst thou?" Yosef's eyes flashed. "Listen, old man, I say this: I know not the good of this conversation. Perhaps she might not consent to-day, but in half a year or a year she will consent. If thou wert there thou mightest contend with him; otherwise, I repeat, she will consent." "On what dost thou rest that judgment?" "On what? A certain evening when I saw Pelski I was listening, and he asked, 'Of what family is Shvarts?' and she answered, 'I know not, really.' Thou seest! But when I said that thou art the son of a blacksmith, she was in flames, and almost burst into weeping from anger at me. There it is for thee!" Yosef also felt at that moment as it were a wish to weep from anger. "Seest thou," continued Augustinovich, "Pelski unconsciously and unwittingly acts with great success; he brings her mind to ancient titles and brilliant relations; he cannot even do otherwise. And she is an aristocrat in every case. Thou rememberest how on a time that angered me and thee, and how much thou didst labor to shatter those principles in her. By the crocodile! there is nothing haughtier than proud poverty. Pelski acts wisely, he flatters her vanity, he rouses her self-love; that removes her from us. But we, my old man, are such counts as, without comparing--Oh, Satan take it! I cannot find here comparisons." In fact, he did not find comparisons, and for want of them he fell to puffing out strong rings of smoke, and trying diligently to catch some of them on his fingers. Meanwhile Yosef looked stubbornly at one point in the ceiling, and asked at last,-- "Didst tell her that I was going to marry Helena?" "No." "Why not?" "I said that thou wert toiling, and for that reason did not appear. Let the affair between thee and Pelski be decided in her mind, in her conscience and heart. Thy marriage is an external event which would decide the matter definitely on his side." Yosef approached Augustinovich and fixed his fingers in his arm. "Listen!" said he, violently; "but if I should win in this battle?" "Go to the devil! and do not pinch me so hard. I throw the same question at thee: If thou shouldst win in this battle?" They looked at each other, eye to eye; some kind of hostile feeling pressed their hearts. At last Yosef dropped Augustinovich's arm, and hiding his face in his hands threw himself on the bed. Augustinovich looked at him threateningly, then less threateningly, and still less threateningly; finally he pushed down to him and stroked him with his hand. He drew him by the skirt, and his voice now was soft and full of emotion. "Old man!" Yosef did not answer. "My old man, be not angry. If thou win thou wilt preserve her in thy heart as a saint, and I will say to her: Go, bright angel, along the path of duty, as Yosef went." CHAPTER XVI