Marynia had ceased to play and her hand, with the violin, hung at her side. No one thanked her; no one uttered a word, for the strains of that music lingered with all and, echo-like, it was yet playing within them. Pani Otocka unwittingly drew nearer to Gronski as if they were attracted towards each other by their mutual worship of this beloved child. In Pani Krzycki's eyes glittered tears, which under the spell of the music were contributed and provoked by memories of former years and the present suffering of her son and fresh worries about him, and the uncertainty of the future. Miss Anney sat in reverie, holding unknowingly between her knees the album, which during Marynia's playing had dropped from her hands; and through the open doors, in the already dimmed depths of the salon, could be seen the indistinct form of a woman, who evidently also was listening to the music. A somewhat stronger breeze which blew from the alder-trees awoke all, as if from a half-dream. Then Pani Krzycki turned towards her son: "A chill is coming from the pond. Perhaps you may wish to return to your room." "No," he answered, "I feel better than I have felt for a long time." And he began to assure her that he did not feel any chill and afterwards appealed to the doctor, who, lulled to sleep by the music, could not at once understand what was the matter. "Can Laudie remain?" asked Pani Krzycki. "He can, he can; only as soon as the sun disappears, it will be necessary to cover him better." Afterwards the doctor looked at his watch and added: "It is time for me to go, but I have had so few evenings like this that it is a hardship to leave. As God sees, it is a hardship." And here he began to rub his fatigued brow with the palm of his hand. Pani Krzycki and Ladislaus declared that they would not permit him to leave before supper. The doctor again looked at his watch, but before he could make any reply there appeared upon the veranda the same feminine figure that had been listening to the music in the depths of the parlor, but this time with two plaids upon her arm. "Is that you, Pauly?" said Miss Anney. "Ah, how sensible you are." And Panna Pauly began to cover Ladislaus with the plaids. She placed one over his shoulders and the other around his limbs. In doing this she knelt and bent in such a way that for a moment her breast rested on Krzycki's knee. "Thank you, little Miss, thank you," he said, somewhat confused. She glanced quickly into his eyes and then left without a word. "But I have taken your plaids," Ladislaus said addressing Miss Anney. "That does not matter. I am dressed warmly. Only, you, sir, will have to take care that the wounded shoulder is well covered." And approaching him, she began to push lightly and carefully a corner of the plaid between the back of the chair and his shoulder. "I am not hurting you?" she asked. "No, no. How can I thank you?"