Fortunately for me, a visit from Doctor Chwastowski interrupted my train of thoughts. He had come from Ploszow to consult with one of the physicians who at some time had attended Pani Celina. Before going back he had come to see me. He said Pani Celina was still neither better nor worse, but Pani Kromitzka was confined to her room with a severe headache. Then he began to speak about Aniela, and I listened with pleasure, as it seemed in some way to make up for the loss of seeing her. He spoke intelligently enough, for a young man of so little experience. He said he had made it a rule to look mistrustingly upon mankind in general, not because he thought it the right point of view, but because it was the safest. As to Pani Kromitzka, he was quite sure hers was a nature of exceptional goodness and nobility. He spoke of her with a scarcely disguised enthusiasm, and I had some suspicion he felt more than admiration for her. But this did not trouble me in the least; there is too great a distance between her and this young medical student. On the contrary, I felt pleased that he appreciated her, and asked him to stop as long as he could; his presence did me good, as it kept me from thinking. In the course of our conversation I asked about his plans for the future. He replied that first he must save some money in order to go abroad and see something of foreign hospitals; afterwards he intended to settle at Warsaw. "What do you understand by settling at Warsaw?" "Work at some of the hospitals, and a possible practice." "And then you will get married, I suppose?" "I suppose so; but there is plenty of time for that." "Unless you meet somebody that subjugates your will; as a doctor you know that love is a physiological necessity." Young Chwastowski wants to show himself off as a sober-minded man above human weaknesses; so he only shrugged his broad shoulders, smoothed his short-cropped head, and said: "I acknowledge the necessity; but do not intend to allow it to occupy too large a space in my life." He looked very knowing, but I replied gravely: "Considering somewhat deeper the question of feeling, who knows whether it be worth while to live for anything else?" Chwastowski pondered over this a little while. "No," he said, "I do not agree with you. There are many other objects in life,--for instance, science, or even social duties. I do not say anything against matrimony; a man ought to marry for himself as well as to have children. But matrimony is one thing, and continual love-making another." "What is the difference between them?" "The difference is obvious, sir. We are like ants constructing an ant-hill. We have our work to do, and not much time to spare for love and women. That is all very well for those who cannot work, or who do not want to do anything."