"So did she please Uncle. The very same day he sent a rouble to the smith's wife and ordered her to bring the child to the manor-house. From that time he became attached to her. He commanded the old housekeeper to teach her to read, and attended to it himself. The child likewise became devoted to him, and this continued for a number of years. In the end people began to say that the master wanted to keep the smith's daughter entirely at his residence and have her educated as a lady, but this, it seems, was untrue. He wanted to bring her up as a stout village lass and give her a dowry. The Skibas, whose only child she was, declared that they would not surrender her for anything in the world. Of course, I know only what the overseer told me, for our relations with the deceased were broken on account of the mill from which he drained the water for his ponds." "And later the Skibas emigrated." "Yes, but before that time Zarnowski began to fail in health and moved to Warsaw, and subsequently resided abroad; so that their relations relaxed. When the Skibas emigrated, the girl was seventeen. Uncle, on his return to Rzeslewo to die, longed for her and waited for some news of her. But as he had previously removed even his furniture from Rzeslewo to the city, she evidently assumed that he never would return and did not know where to write." "The bequest proves best that he did not forget her," said Gronski, "and from the whole will it appears that he was a man of better heart than people thought." "Surely," answered Ladislaus. For an interval they walked in silence; then Krzycki resumed the conversation. "As for myself, I prefer that she is not the daughter of the deceased." "Why? Has that any bearing on the bequest?" "No. Under no circumstances will I accept that bequest. Never!" "That is all very well, but tell me, why did you renounce it with such vehemence that everybody was astonished?" "There is one circumstance which neither Mother nor anybody else even suspects, but which I will sincerely confess to you. In the proper time I seduced that girl." Gronski stood still, gazed at Ladislaus, and ejaculated: "What's that?" As he was not prone to treat such matters with levity and, besides, the previous narrative of Krzycki had awakened within him a sympathy for Hanka, he frowned and asked: "For the fear of God! You seduced a child? And you say it was done in the proper time?" But Ladislaus replied quite calmly: "Let us not stop, for the dog has gone too far ahead of us," and here he pointed at the white spaniel running before them. "I did not seduce a child, for at that time she was sixteen. It happened more than seven years ago, while I was still a student and came to Jastrzeb on a vacation." "Were there any consequences?"