A few days later, the old notary, Dzwonkowski, and Dr. Szremski came to visit Gronski. The latter, to whom this was an agreeable surprise, as he liked both, and, besides, esteemed the doctor highly, greeted them with great cordiality and began to ask the news of the city, the vicinity, and of themselves. "Ha! We live, we live," answered the boisterous doctor. "In these times, that is an art. But the police so far have not arrested us, the bandits have not shot us, the socialists have not blown us up into the air; so we not only live, but have come to Warsaw. I, because I must ride farther,--as far as Volhynia, and this gentleman," pointing to the notary, "on account of the concert and Panna Marynia's participation in it. Having read of it in the daily newspapers he fell into such a state that at any moment I looked for an attack of apoplexy or aneurism. There was no help for it. I had to prescribe a stay in Warsaw as a cure. Finally, he cannot at all endure our little town any more, and is thinking only of giving up his office to some one and of moving here permanently. In his heart a fire is burning, and the snow melts, and ice melts and so forth. Ha!" During these words, the old notary moved his jaws so furiously that his chin almost touched his nose; finally he declared: "The head splits! The head splits!" "The same old quarrel?" asked Gronski, laughing. "Quarrel?" repeated the notary. "It is not I who quarrel. He has shaken up my brain, shattered my nerves, stupefied me, torn to pieces, exhausted, cleaned out, sucked, and outtalked the remnants of strength within me. From yesterday, sir, on the whole road--a continual din and roar in the ears--and after that in the hotel; to-day, since morning, and now here. No, I cannot stand it, no, I cannot!" "Tut, tut. And who daily summons me? Who every day hangs out his tongue until it reaches the first button on his vest and orders me to examine it? Wait, sir. I will ride away and you will have to examine it yourself before a mirror." "Then you are really going to Volhynia? How about your patients?" asked Gronski. "I fear that in the meantime they may get well; but it can't be helped, I must go!" "And for how long?" "I do not know, but do not think very long. I am a Volhynian Mazur, from the minor nobility of that place, or as they say there of the single-manor nobles. They are mostly settled there as tenants of various petty nobles, but I have my own seat in partnership with a brother, an ex-judge, who has charge of the estate and to whom I am now riding." "But, of course, not because he is sick?" "Certainly, sir; he has become insane." "My God! Since when?" "Not long ago. From the time he became a 'local rights' man.'" "Ah."