Leon.--At your age the words "I have grown old" are only a daring
challenge thrown by a woman who is not afraid that she would be
believed.

Jadwiga.--I am twenty-three years old, so I am not talking about age
in years, but age in morals. I feel that to-day I am not like that
Jadwiga of Kalinowice whom you used to know so well. Good gracious!
when I think to-day of that confidence and faith in life--those
girlish illusions--the illusions of a young person who wished to be
happy and make others happy, that enthusiasm for everything good and
noble! where has all that gone--where has it disappeared? And to think
that I was--well, an honest wild-flower--and to-day--

Leon.--And to-day a society woman.

Jadwiga.--To-day, when I see such a sceptical smile as I saw a few
moments ago on your lips, it seems to me that I am ridiculous--very
often so--even always when I sit at some ideal embroidery and when
I begin to work at some withered flowers on the forgotten, despised
canvas of the past. It is a curious and old fashion from times when
faithfulness was not looked seriously on, and people sang of Filon.

Leon.--At that moment you were speaking according to the latest mode.

Jadwiga.--Shall I weep, or try to tie the broken thread? Well, the
times change. I can assure you that I have some better moments, during
which I laugh heartily at everything (handing him a cigarette). Do you
smoke?

Leon.--No, madam.