"Well, let there be a peasants' school, if only our Jastrzeb peasants will be permitted to send their sons to it." "That does not admit of any doubt," explained Gronski. "There will be as many pupils as accommodations can be provided for. They may come from all parts, though preference is to be given to Rzeslewo peasants." "What do they say about the bequest?" "There were more than a dozen of them at the opening of the will, as they expected a direct gift of all the manor lands to them. Somebody had persuaded them that the deceased left everything to them to be equally divided. So they left very much displeased. We heard them say that this was not the genuine will and that they do not need any schools." "Most fully do I share their opinion," said Dolhanski, "and in this instance, contrary to my nature, I will speak seriously. For at present there is raging an epidemic of founding schools and no one asks for whom, for what, how are they to be taught in them, and what is the end to be attained. I belong to that species of birds who do not toil, but look at everything, if not from the top, then from the side, and, perhaps for that very reason, see things which others do not observe. So, at times, I have an impression that we are like those children, for instance, at Ostend, who build on the sea-shore forts with the sand. Every day on the beach they erect them and every day the waves wash them away until not a trace of them remains." "In a way you are right," said Gronski; "but there, however, is this difference: the children build joyfully and we do not." Afterwards he meditated and added: "However, the law of nature is such that children grow while the adults rear dykes, not of sand, but of stone upon which the weaves dash to pieces." "Let them be dashed to pieces as quickly as possible," exclaimed Ladislaus. But Dolhanski would not concede defeat. "Permit me then," he said, "since we have not yet grown up and have not yet started to build of stone, to remain a pessimist." Gronski gazed for a while into the depths of the garden like a man who was pondering over something and then said: "Pessimism--pessimism! We hear that incessantly nowadays. But in the meanwhile if there exists anything more stupid than optimism, which often passes for folly, it is particularly pessimism, which desires to pose as reason." Dolhanski smiled a trifle biliously and, turning to the ladies, said, pointing to Gronski: "Do not take this ill of him, ladies. It often happens for him in moments of abstraction to utter impertinences. He is a good--even intelligent--man, but has the unbearable habit of turning over everything, examining it from all sides, pondering over it, and soliloquizing." But Marynia suddenly flushed with indignation in defence of her friend and, shaking the teapot which at that moment she held in her hand, began to speak with great ardor: "That is just right, that is just sensible; that is what everybody ought to do--"