t good gracious, when anything so powerful takes possession
here in the heart and here in the head, we simply give it utterance."

Sharply and angrily the count rejoined, "A decent man keeps to himself
nine-tenths of what passes through his head and heart."

"You wish to insult me, uncle," and Boris smiled his handsome
melancholy smile, "very well, very well. Perhaps we Poles cannot keep
our heads and hearts as well in check as you Germans; but that does not
prevent us from being decent."

"It costs little, my boy," scoffed the count, "to lay our faults at our
nation's door; it cannot defend itself. Moreover ..." He stopped, for
his cigar had gone out; he lit it with much ceremony, and when he began
to speak again the irritation was gone from his voice, and it had once
more its contemplatively nasal tone. "The discussion here is probably
fruitless, we are neither of us sufficiently objective in this matter.
I therefore regret having to decline your proposal."

Boris rose and bowed formally. "Then I presume I can go," he said.

"Yes," replied the count, "the subject is exhausted for now. It should
be added that I must beg you to terminate your visit here today."

Boris bowed again.

"Of course in the afternoon," added the count.

"Thank you," said Boris, and then walked out very erect.

Count Hamilcar took a long pull at his cigar and again looked out of
the window. He wished to see another harvest wagon, and a lad lying
sleepily on top of it in the hot yellow straw. In the yard behind a
bush Marion had been standing the whole time, looking in through his
window. Now that Boris was gone, she too ran toward the house. Youth on
duty, reconnoitring against old age, thought the count. He leaned his
head back and closed his eyes.

He was a little weary. Of course she would come at once. As he knew his
daughter, she would not let herself miss the intoxication of loyalty,
of confessing, of having courage to stand before the cruel father.
Goodness, how life kept distributing the same old roles over and over.
Disgusting. Now the door moved. He did not open his eyes: an
unspeakable sluggishness made his eyelids heavy. He heard Billy enter
the room, step up close to him, and stand still before him. Then he
opened his eyes and smiled a little.

"Well, my daughter?" he asked, "come, sit down beside me."

"No, papa," replied Billy, "I had rather stand."

"Very well, stand."--He too had to stand when he delivered his spee