Zagloba grew angry, and began to puff. For a time he could not even speak, and only when he had mastered his anger did he answer with a broken voice, “My dear, do not hold me a fool; if you have reasons to give, give them to me, as to a man who lives on bread and meat, not as to one who is mad—for if I should now frame a fiction, and tell you that this cap of mine here is the moon, and that I cannot reach it with my hand, I should go around the city with a bare, bald head, and the frost would bite my ears like a dog. I will not wrestle with statements like that. But I know this: the maiden lives three rooms distant from here; she eats; she drinks; when she walks, she must put one foot before the other; in the frost her nose grows red, and she feels hot in the heat; when a mosquito bites her, she feels it; and as to the moon, she may resemble it in this, that she has no beard. But in the way that you talk, it may be said that a turnip is an astrologer. As to Krysia, if you have not tried, if you have not asked her, it is your own fault; but if you have ceased to love the girl, and now you are going away, saying to yourself ‘moon,’ then you may nourish any weed with your honesty as well as your wit—that is the point of the question.”
To this Ketling answered, “It is not sweet, but bitter in my mouth from the food which you are giving me. I go, for I must; I do not ask, because I have nothing to ask about. But you judge me unjustly—God knows how unjustly!”
“Ketling! I know, of course, that you are a man of honor; but I cannot understand those ways of yours. In my time a man went to a maiden and spoke into her eyes with this rhyme, ‘If you wish me, we will live together; if not, I will not buy you.’15 Each one knew what he had to do; whoever was halting, and not bold in speech, sent a better man to talk than himself. I offered you my services, and offer them yet. I will go; I will talk; I will bring back an answer, and according to that, you will go or stay.”
“I must go! it cannot be otherwise, and will not.”
“You will return.”
“No! Do me a kindness, and speak no more of this. If you wish to inquire for your own satisfaction, very well, but not in my name.”
“For God’s sake, have you asked her already?”
“Let us not speak of this. Do me the favor.”
“Well, let us talk of the weather. May the thunderbolt strike you, and your ways! So you must go, and I must curse.”
“I take farewell of you.”
“Wait, wait! Anger will leave me this moment. My Ketling, wait, for I had something to say to you. When do you go?”
“As soon as I can settle my affairs. I should like to wait in Courland for the quarter’s rent; and the house in which we have been living I would sell willingly if anyone would buy it.”
“Let Makovetski buy it, or Michael. In God’s name! but you will not go away without seeing Michael?”
“I should be glad in my soul to see him.”
“He may be here any moment. He may incline you to Krysia.”
Here Zagloba stopped, for a certain alarm seized him suddenly. “I was serving Michael in good intent,” thought he, “but terribly against his will; if discord is to rise between him and Ketling, better let Ketling go away.” Here Zagloba rubbed his bald head with his hand; at last he added, “One thing and another was said out of pure goodwill. I have so fallen in love with you that I would be glad to detain you by all means; therefore I put Krysia before you, like a bit of bacon. But that was only through goodwill. What is it to me, old man? In truth, that was only goodwill—nothing more. I am not matchmaking; if I were, I would have made a match for myself. Ketling, give me your face,16 and be not angry.”
Ketling embraced Zagloba, who became really tender, and straightway gave command to bring the decanter, saying, “We will drink one like this every day on the occasion of your departure.”
And they drank. Then Ketling bade him goodbye and went out. Immediately the wine roused fancy in Zagloba; he began to meditate about Basia, Krysia, Pan Michael, and Ketling, began to unite them in couples, to bless them; at last he wished to see the young ladies, and said, “Well, I will go and see those kids.”
The young ladies were sitting in the room beyond the entrance, and sewing. Zagloba, after he had greeted them, walked through the room, dragging his feet a little; for they did not serve him as formerly, especially after wine. While walking, he looked at the maidens, who were sitting closely, one near the other, so that the bright head of Basia almost touched the dark one of Krysia. Basia followed him with her eyes; but Krysia was sewing so diligently that it was barely possible to catch the glitter of her needle with the eye.
“H’m!” said Zagloba.
“H’m!” repeated Basia.
“Don’t mock me, for I am angry.”
“He’ll be sure to cut my head off!” cried Basia, feigning terror.
“Strike! strike! I’ll cut your tongue out—that’s what I’ll do!”
Saying this, Zagloba approached the young ladies, and putting his hands on his hips, asked without any preliminary, “Do you want Ketling as husband?”
“Yes; five like him!” said Basia, quickly.
“Be quiet, fly! I am not talking to you. Krysia, the speech is
