ut together.

They rode to the bank of the Wisla and from there took a boat to
Bielany.

All were in a springtime humor, except Janina. She sat gloomily rapt
in thought.

Kotlicki chatted jovially, Wawrzecki jested with Glogowski and the
women took part in the merriment, but Janina hardly heard a thing
that was being said. She was still pondering her conversation with
Grzesikiewicz and the heavy feeling it had left in her heart.

"Is anything troubling you?" Kotlicki asked with anxiety in his
voice.

"Me? Oh nothing! . . . I was just musing upon human misery," she
answered.

"It is not worth thinking of anything that is not pleasure, full of
life and youth . . ."

"Don't complete that nonsense. It is just as if you were to eat off
the butter on a piece of bread and then muse over your dry crust
that you did a foolish thing after all," interposed Glogowski, "I
see you do not like to eat, only to lick at things."

"My dear sir, I have the honor of knowing that ever since I was a
schoolboy," Kotlicki retorted sarcastically.

"That isn't the point; the point is that you advocate downright
silly things. For instance indulgence, while you have had ample
opportunity to prove upon yourself the sad results of that jolly
theory."

"Both in life and in literature you are always paradoxical."

"I'll wager you have weak lungs, arthritis, neurasthenia and . . ."

"Count up to twenty."

They began to argue vehemently and then to quarrel.

The boat had passed the railroad bridge and the vast calm of the
open country enveloped them on all sides. The sun was shining
brightly, but a chill dampness arose from the murky waters of the
river. The small waves, saturated with light, like serpents with
gleaming scales, splashed about in the sunlight. The long sand dunes
resembled water giants, basking in the sun with yellow upturned
bellies. A string of scows floated before them; the pilot in a small
cockleshell boat rowed on in front and every now and then would
raise his voice in a cry which echoed across the water and reached
them in a confused medley of tones. A few boatmen plied their oars
with automatic motion and their sad song was wafted to the party and
floated above their heads. Afterwards a growing silence began to
spread around them.

The mild verdure of the shores, the sunlit trail of the waters
gleaming with the sheeny softness of satin, the gentle rocking of
the boat, the rhythmical stroke of the oars unconsc