JUNE
151
of the afternoon sun sweeps through the window like a glorious cloud, which is the fore-runner of a dream of happiness. Behind the white thin curtain at the window LidkA is sitting with her sewing; a quivering patch of sunshine rests on her lap like the fondled head of some pet animal, which blinks its big happy eyes, while it enjoys endearments and nestles into the cosy warmth of the lap. Old Mrs. Ledynska, with the tender smile of autumm in all her features, is sitting in an old leather settee by the table reading the newspaper; from time to time she straightens her spectacles with a trembling hand and nods her head).
LIDKA (drops her sewing into her lap; her eyes are as heavy as poppies at noon; then coming to the close of some dream or other, she whispers): There . . . there it must be altogether different . . . there . . . (She moves her head across the back of the chair, and passes her tongue wistfully over her burning and half-opened lips. Then suddenly she raises her head again and as if she were speaking to somebody, she says, in a soft and reproving tone): Do you really like me so much?—
MRS. LEDYNSKA (with a start): Did you say something?
LIDKA (with a startled and jerky voice): No, nothing . . . I only just . . . only just said something to myself. . .
