their own height. 'Sniatynski? who is he? Yes, I remember; he dresses
at the same tailor as I.' Such is fame, my dear fellow."

"But if must be worth something, since people risk their lives for
it?"

Sniatynski grew thoughtful, and replied with a certain gravity:--

"In private life it is worth something; you can make a footstool of it
for the woman you love."

"You will gain a new fame by this definition."

Sniatynski rushed at me with lively impetuosity.

"Yes, yes; put all your laurels into a cushion, go to the dear one,
and say to her: 'This for which people risk their lives; this which
they consider supreme happiness, appreciate more than wealth,--I have
got it, striven for it; and now put your dear feet on it at once.' If
you do this, you will be loved all your life. You wanted to know what
fame is good for, and there you are."

Further discussions were cut short by the entrance of Pani Sniatynska
and Aniela. They were dressed for going out to the hot-houses. What an
imp of mischief lurks in that little woman. She came up to her husband
to ask his permission to go out, which he granted, insisting only that
she should wrap herself up warm; she turned to me and said with a
roguish smile,--

"You will let Aniela go, will you not?"