"The way it should be understood. That coffin has greater meaning than it seems. That is an announcement! A mistake? No! That was only an incident. Lo, to-day we are burying a harp, which wanted to play for the people, but which the rabble trampled upon with their filthy feet.--Wait, sir! Let things continue to proceed thus, and who knows whether, after ten or twenty years, we will not thus bury learning, art, culture, bah! even the entire civilization. And that not only here but everywhere. There will be an endless series of such events.--To me, after all, it is all one, but absolutely it is possible." The doctor ruminated for some time in silence over Swidwicki's words; finally he exclaimed: "Ah, knowledge, knowledge, knowledge." Swidwicki stood still, seized the doctor by the flap of his coat and shaking his goat-like beard, said: "Hear, sir, an atheist, or at least, a man who has nothing to do with any religion: knowledge without religion breeds only thieves and bandits." The procession paused for a while on account of an obstruction on the road; so conversing, they drew nearer to the coffin; nevertheless, Swidwicki, though lowering his voice, did not cease to talk: "Ay, sir--a great many people think the same as I do; only they have not the courage to say it aloud. After all, I reiterate it is all one to me,--we are lost past all help. With us there are only whirlpools.--And these, not whirlpools upon a watery gulf, beneath which is a calm depth, but whirlpools of sand. Now the whirlwind blows from the East and the sterile sand buries our traditions, our civilization, our culture--our whole Poland--and transforms her into a wilderness upon which flowers perish and only jackals can live." Here he pointed to Marynia's coffin: "Lo, there is a flower which has withered. Do you know, sir, why I, though a relative, seldom visited them? Because I felt ashamed before her eyes." They reached the station and went upon the roadway, from which could be seen the coach, decorated with flowers and fir-tree boughs. "Are you riding to Zalesin?" asked the doctor. "I am. I want to gaze at Pani Otocka. God knows what now will become of her. And see, sir, how Gronski looks. An old man--what? Now his Latin and books will not help him." "Who would not have felt this," answered the doctor. "Krzycki also looks as if he were taken off the cross." "Krzycki? But perhaps it is because his matrimonial plans are broken." Further conversation was interrupted by the orchestra which began to play Chopin's "Funeral March." XVII