“My good fellow, considering all you have told me, neither my aunt nor I can have anything to do with the partnership.”

His countenance fell, and he turned very yellow.  “Tell me why,” he said.

“If you, in spite of cautiousness and care, are in danger of lawsuits, we will not be mixed up in your affairs.”

“Looking at things in that way, nobody would embark in any business at all.”

“There is no necessity for us to do so.  But supposing we entered into any partnership, how much would you want us to put into the business?”

“It is of no use to speak of that now; but if you could have come into it, let us say with seventy-five thousand roubles—­”

“No, we will not put anything into the business; we do not think it advisable to do so.  But as you are connected with our family, we will help you in another way.  In brief, I will lend you the sum you mentioned upon a note of hand.”

Kromitzki stopped, looked at me, and blinked as one who is not fully awake.  But this lasted only a moment.  He evidently thought it would not be wise to show too great a delight,—­a mercantile caution not at all necessary, and ridiculous under present circumstances.  He only pressed my hand and said:  “Thank you,—­at what rate of interest?”

“We will talk of that later on.  I must go back now and talk with my aunt.”

I said good-by at once.  On the way I reflected whether Kromitzki would not think my acting thus a little curious and open to suspicion.  But it was a vain fear.  Husbands are proverbially blind, not because they love and trust their wives, but because they love themselves.  Besides, Kromitzki, looking at us from his business point of view, considers me and my aunt as two fantastic beings, who, with little knowledge of practical matters, stick to antiquated notions about family ties and duties.  He is, indeed, in many respects of such an altogether different type from us, that we cannot help looking upon him as an intruder.

When I came back to the villa I saw Aniela at the gate buying wild strawberries from a peasant woman.  Passing close by, I said roughly, “You will not go away, because I do not wish it,” and then went up into my room.

During dinner the conversation again turned upon the departure of the ladies.  This time Kromitzki spoke up and treated the whole thing as a childish whim, to be laughed at by sensible people.  He was not very considerate either to his wife or his mother-in-law, but then his nature is not a refined one.  I did not say anything,—­as if the question of their going or staying mattered very little to me.  But I noticed that Aniela was conscious that her husband acted as a mere puppet in my hands, and she felt ashamed for him and deeply humiliated; but such was the resentment I had towards her that the sight of it did me good.