Pani Krzycki replied that she knew perfectly well that all people in the sight of God were equal, but she was concerned about the happiness of her son. Similar marriages were not usually happy. It may be that the reason for this is the malice of the world: it may be that the wife met with humiliation on the part of vain and malicious persons, but the husband must feel that also, in consequence of which irritation ensues and the relations grow from bad to worse even without any ill-will on either side. As to her son he is ambitious and sensitive as but few are, and even if he loved his wife most strongly, he would suffer if any one evinced towards her even a shade of disdain. Whoever lives in the world must reckon with everything, even with stupidity, even with malice, not to say with other considerations upon which marital happiness often depends. The aged prelate listened, folding and unfolding according to his habit a silk handkerchief, and finally said: "Reckoning with stupidity and malice may only mean guarding against them, not making any concessions to them." After which he began to look at Pani Krzycki with a penetrating gaze and asked: "Permit me to put one question to you: Why should your son necessarily be happy?" She looked at him with surprise. "Why, I am his mother." "Yes, but there are things more important than happiness, particularly temporal,--is it not true?" "True," she answered quietly. "That which you said in respect to temporal matters may be more or less just and may actually be the reasons which make such marriages less happy than others, but it is necessary above all things to propound to one's self the question. What in life is greater and what is less, what is more important and what is less important, and to act according to the dictates of conscience." "Well, how am I to act?" asked Pani Krzycki. The aged prelate looked at the crucifix hanging on the wall and quietly, but with emphasis, answered: "As a Christian." A momentary silence followed. "I am satisfied with the advice," said Pani Krzycki, "and I thank you." VI Ladislaus, while his mother was in church and consulting the prelate, repaired, notwithstanding the early hour, to Pani Otocka. At the very beginning he raised to his lips both of her hands and kissed them so long that she, from that act alone, perceived his intentions. "I knew it would be so! I knew it!" she cried with emotion and joy. While he replied in a soft quivering voice: "I did not require a week to perceive that I cannot live without her." "I knew it," Zosia once more repeated. "Have you spoken with your mother, yet?" "No. Yesterday, I ran about the city senselessly, after which I rushed to Gronski's and went to the hotel very late, and this morning I was informed that Mother was in church." Pani Otocka again became anxious.