“I am giving a dinner in honor of the Ploszowski success.”

My aunt was deeply gratified with my belief in that event.  Ah! if she knew how little I care for Naughty Boy, and all the races the Ploszow horses might win on all the race-courses of Europe.  Aniela evidently guessed something of this, but she was in such spirits that she only cast a passing glance at me, and bit her lips to hide a smile.

I well-nigh lost my head.  In the covert smile I saw a shade of coquetry I had never noticed there before.  It is impossible, I thought, that she should have no vanity whatever, and not feel flattered in the least, on perceiving that all I am doing is done through her and for her sake.

My aunt divested herself of her travelling-wraps, and without delay went to inspect Naughty Boy and Aurora, and I showed Aniela the list of the invited guests.

“I tried to bring together people you like; but if there is anybody else you would like to have, I will go myself, or send an invitation.”

“Show it to aunty;” replied Aniela, “let her decide.”

“No; aunty will sit at the head of the table, and we shall go to her with our congratulations or condolences, as the case may be; but the part of lady of the house I have assigned to you.”

Aniela blushed a little, and, trying to change the conversation, said:—­

“Leon, I do hope Naughty Boy will win; aunty has set her heart upon it, and will be so vexed if it should turn out otherwise.”

“I have won already, because I have as guest under my roof a certain small person who is sitting opposite me.”

“You are making fun; but I am really anxious about it.”

“My aunt,” I replied, more seriously, “will have some compensation if she loses.  My collections will be in Warsaw in a few weeks, and this has been the dearest wish of her life.  She always tried to make my father give them to the town.  All the papers are full of it, and praise me to an extent you have no idea of.”

The dear face lit up with pleasure.

“Show me; read it to me,” she said eagerly.

I had a desire to kiss her hands for that glimpse of brightness.  It was a new proof.  If I were indifferent to her, would she rejoice so much when I am praised?

“Not now,” I replied.  “I will read it when my aunt comes back, or rather she must read it, and I will hide my blushes behind you; you, at least, shall not see how foolish I look.”

“Why should you look foolish?”

“Because the thing is not worth all the fuss, and if there be any merit in it, it is yours, not mine.  They ought to praise you.  I would give a good deal if I could tell those journalists:  ’If you think well of it, go en masse and kneel at certain little feet and pour out your gratitude there!’”

“Leon!  Leon!” interrupted Aniela.

“Now do not say a word, lest I should feel tempted to divulge the great secret.”