too—our cat? Don't you: so sharp of wit, following us everywhere like a dog? All that's so far off, so irrevocably gone! Oh, I tell you, I would give more than my life, if I could but see one such morning return—only one such bleak and dark and frosty morning, and I were now as I was then!…"
She turned her cheek to the pillow, and shed tears.
"Martha, your nerves are again in a very poor state. If you like, I shall go with you to Klosow; and we shall spend Christmas there together, and enjoy a few idyllic days as of old."
"Oh, no, Janka ; they would only be the miserable ghosts of times that are past for ever. That stupid, clubby-faced woman, Janusz's wife, would get on my nerves so; besides, the thought that Witold would be staying here with Madame Wildenhoff, and glad I was away!
"But," she added with a sudden revival of spirits, "do you know, I fancy her triumph will be over pretty soon? It is true that Witold was never very much attached to her: but now it would seem that his affections are strongly engaged elsewhere."
