Whirlpools: A Novel of Modern Poland Part 21

"A certain night I summoned Thee but Thou didst not hear me and didst not come. Now I extend my hands towards Thee and say unto Thee: Come and slumber in my heart.

"And when the time of awakening comes, I will wake Thee for a brief moment of pleasure, which love gives for the toil without an end and which the idea demands.

"For toil and perchance for martyrdom.

"But in that martyrdom for the dawn of a new life, there is greater happiness than in the dusk, mephitic air, ashes and mould of graves.

"Therefore come even for martyrdom.

"And until our existence floats into the sea of nothingness, abide with me.

"Oh, beloved one."

Gronski's countenance reflected perturbation. For a time he and Pani Otocka walked in silence.

"What shall I do with this, and what does it mean?"

"This is a disagreeable and vexatious matter, and the letter means that Laskowicz, who never in his life saw a being like Marynia, has fallen in love with her from the first acquaintance, as he himself says. I observed that after a few days and if I did not say anything to you about it, it was because Laskowicz was soon to leave. But he has fallen in love with his head and not his heart, for otherwise, instead of high-flown expressions, borrowed, as it were, from some school of literature, he would have found simpler and more sincere words. His exaltation may be sincere, it may waste and destroy him like a fever; it may last for whole years, but its chief source is the head and not the heart."

But Pani Otocka, who at the moment was not in the least interested in an a.n.a.lysis of Laskowicz's feelings, interrupted a further disquisition:

"But what are we to do, in view of this? How are we to act? It is about Marynia that I am concerned."

"You are right," answered Gronski. "Pardon my untimely reflections, but it is always better to know with whom and with what one has to do. My opinion is that it would be best not to do anything, just as if this letter had not arrived. You may return it to Laskowicz, but that would be exceedingly contemptuous: this letter deserves, perhaps, to be thrown into a fireplace, but in my opinion it does not merit contempt.

It is, if you will permit me to thus express myself, nervous and insolent, but it preserves a certain measure in its expressions and there is nothing brutal in it. Besides it expresses rather the thoughts which came to Laskowicz's mind than any actual hopes, and to that extent it might be explained to Marynia that this is not a letter to her but a poem for her, not quite felicitously conceived. And Marynia?

What impression did it make upon her and what does she say?"

"Marynia," answered Pani Otocka with a certain comic uneasiness, "is a little offended, a little worried and frightened, but in the innermost recesses of her heart, she is a little proud that somebody should have written such a letter to her."

"Oh, I was certain of that," exclaimed Gronski, laughing involuntarily.

After a while he began to speak seriously.

"No doubt other letters will come and as these maybe more glaring, we will have to persuade the little one that she should not read them. If you will permit, I will undertake that, after which, you ladies ought to go to Warsaw, and, in a short time, journey abroad and the matter will end of itself."

"To tell the truth," responded Pani Otocka, "I want to leave Jastrzeb as soon as possible. We are not necessary for Aunt but are rather a hindrance in the preparations for her departure, and I confess that I am possessed by fear. Please read that letter again carefully. Why, there are threats there against all the residents of Jastrzeb and even against Marynia if she stays with us."

Gronski thought of Ladislaus receiving at the same time a death sentence, and in the first moments it occurred to him that it might have some connection with Laskowicz's letter. But after a while he recollected that similar sentences were sent to the doctor and even the aged notary: therefore to pacify Pani Otocka, he said:

"These are times of continual menaces and everybody receives them, but I do not think that Laskowicz intended to warn Marynia of any imminent attack threatening us in Jastrzeb. He undoubtedly wished to say that the waves of socialism will sweep away all who do not float with it, and therefore us. But as the peace of yourself and Marynia is involved, as to leaving, why of course! Why should we not leave even to-morrow?"

"I already thought of that, but Aunt urged us to wait for her and Aninka promised her that."

"Then let her remain, and you ladies leave. Ah, so Miss Anney delays the departure? Good news for Laudie! May I tell him that? A while ago, he begged me to learn something from you,--for the poor fellow barely lives. He is the most love-sick swain within the boundaries of the Commonwealth."

"So it has gone as far as that?"

"It has! Evidently there is something inflammatory in the atmosphere of Jastrzeb. Here everybody falls in love, either openly or in secret."

Hearing this, Pani Otocka unexpectedly blushed like a fifteen-year-old girl, and though this happened often and upon the most trivial provocation, Gronski being unable to surmise what had pa.s.sed through her mind, looked at her with a certain wonder.

"How then?" he said. "There are Laudie, Laskowicz, and Dolhanski. But Dolhanski has the most energy, for, after his latest repulse, he immediately decamps upon a new expedition, while Laudie fears."

"What?" asked Pani Otocka, raising her eyes.

"First, a repulse from which he thinks he could not recover, and, again, a discussion with his mother which awaits him."

"Perhaps something else awaits Cousin Laudie, but he need not fear about Aninka."

"He will die from joy when I tell him that, but in my way, I, who am known to you as a meddler, could die from curiosity."

"What of it, when I have no right to speak about it?"

"Not even when we leave Jastrzeb?"

"Not even then. After all, everything will soon clear up."

"In such case, I have procured enough for the nonce, and in the meanwhile I will return to Laudie to tell him the good news and apprise him of our departure. I will not mention anything about Laskowicz's letter, for tomorrow he will set off for the city and, if they met, a nasty encounter might result."

XIII

Ladislaus, however, did not go to the city on the day following his conversation with Gronski, for he was notified that the meeting of the executors of Zarnowski's will was postponed for one week. The reason for this was that in two days a convention of the citizens of the vicinity was to commence in reference to providing insurance for the superannuated rural officials and manor-servants, and also in regard to the more burning question of introducing the Polish language into the communes,--a question in which the communal justices as well as the villagers were interested. Ladislaus determined, by all means, to partic.i.p.ate in these debates, but as they were to take place in the forenoons, he formulated a plan of going to them every morning and returning home in the afternoon. In view of the proximity of Jastrzeb to the city, this plan was quite feasible.

However, he was disappointed in the hope that he could devote those two days exclusively to the guests, or rather to the most precious of guests in Jastrzeb, as the disorders in Rzeslewo broke out with renewed virulence and they required almost all his time. The strike of the manor help, indeed, ceased so completely that the intervention, which Dolhanski advised, became superfluous and it was necessary to restrain it. But in the meantime individual tenants and some of the husbandmen began to commit depredations in the forest. Ladislaus, at the head of the local and Jastrzeb foresters, sought these disorderly persons, who, indeed, hid at the sight of him: nevertheless they a.s.sumed a very threatening att.i.tude towards the servants, promising to all swift vengeance. The foresters received bulky letters, a.s.suring them "that they would get a bullet in the head, and the heir also would." But the heir, who was not wanting in youthful energy and was not averse to adventure, did not at all neglect the defence of the Rzeslewo forests, and, what was more, he personally rushed over to Rzeslewo and summoning the malefactors, declared that he would invoke courts and punishment.

And afterwards, he repaired at the designated time to the conference.

It was to be the last day of the sojourn in Jastrzeb of Pani Otocka, Marynia, and Gronski, who decided to leave on the following day for Warsaw. Miss Anney, at Pani Krzycki's solicitation, agreed to remain for a few days, and leave with her. Ladislaus announced that he would return as soon as possible in order to spend the evening with all of them and to listen for the last time to Marynia's bewitching violin. He also said that he would induce the notary and the doctor to come with him.

As a result, they waited dinner for them. In the meantime, about four o'clock, Gronski sat in his room writing a letter to Dolhanski, Marynia, upstairs, played her daily exercises, Pani Otocka sat with the patient, and Miss Anney went out on the balcony, ostensibly to photograph the old and lofty trees which enclosed the courtyard on two sides, but in reality to see whether he, whom they expected at home, was returning. So instead of photographing, she began to lose her sight and soul in the shady depths of the old linden roadway. Hope that soon she would behold in that depth a cloud of dust, horses, and carriages, and that afterwards the lively form of a youth would leap out, filled her with a quiet joy. Lo, after a while she would see before her that countenance, stately, sympathetic, and sincere; those eyes, whose every glance spoke to her a hundred times more than the lips, and would hear that voice which penetrated to her heart and thrilled it like music. At this thought, Miss Anney was encompa.s.sed with such sweet, calm feeling, as if she were a child and as if some loved hand were lightly rocking her to sleep; as if she were resting in a boat, which the gentle waves bore somewhere into a distance, unknown, but radiant. To permit herself to be rocked, to allow herself to be borne, to confide in the waves, to not think, for the time being, of where the boat will stop,--this was all that the heart of the maiden, at such moments, desired. But at other moments, when she propounded to herself the question, "What will happen further?" she looked with faith into the future. Sometimes when sleep refused to close her eyes, there flitted through her mind, like dark b.u.t.terflies, uncertainties and fears, but even then she said to herself that the heaven may become cloudy in the future, but at present she was enjoying charming, fair weather, and every day was like a flower, and she plucked those flowers, one after another and laid them upon her bosom. So she thought that for this it was worth while to live and even to die.

And at that moment, though her soul was dissolving in the sun, in the serene atmosphere, in the rustle of leaves and in the great pastoral calm, flooded with light, she had no desire to die, for it seemed to her that, with the air, she inhaled joyful appeas.e.m.e.nt. Everything about her began to lose the mark of reality and change into an azure vision of happiness, half dreamy, half wakeful. From this revery she was aroused by the sight, awaiting which she had sat for almost an hour on the balcony. Lo, at the uttermost end of the roadway her eagerly desired cloud of dust appeared and it approached with unusual rapidity.

Miss Anney recollected herself. In the first moments she wanted to retire. "It is necessary, it is necessary," she said to herself, "otherwise he will be apt to think that I was waiting for him." And she would have been sincerely indignant had any one suggested to her that such was the case. But suddenly her knees became so weak that she sat again, clutching the camera in order that it might appear that when found on the balcony she was taking photographs. In the meantime the cloud drew nearer the gates of entry, continuing with the same speed.

Soon in harmony with the picture which the maiden had previously formed, the gray heads of the fore horses emerged from the dust. Like lightning, an impression of joy shook Miss Anney. "How he is flying and how anxious he is!" But immediately afterwards, as she began to wonder at the amazing speed, she thought that the horses were frightened.

They were already so close to the gates that she could perceive the wind-tossed manes, the distended b.l.o.o.d.y nostrils and the frantic motions of the horses' feet. Suddenly she rose and her eyes reflected horror, for she observed that the coachman sat, bent so that only the top of his head could be seen--without a cap. In the meantime the intractable horses dashed through the gate; at the winding, the coachman fell off and the carriage with slightly diminished speed swung in a semi-circle along the border of the flower-bed. In the carriage, on the rear seat, Ladislaus sat alone, with his head tilted upwards and propped upon a carriage cushion. A cry of terror escaped from Miss Anney's breast. The horses, in the twinkle of an eye, reached the balcony and being accustomed to stop before it, implanted their hoofs in the ground. Ladislaus moved and, pale as a corpse, with blood streaming over his collar and coat sleeves, staggered from the carriage; when the maiden hurried towards him, he cried, grasping the air with his mouth:

"Nothing!... I am wounded, but it is nothing!"

And he toppled to the ground at her feet.

And she, in a moment raised him with a strength, amazing in a woman, and supporting him with her arms and breast, began to shriek:

"Save him! Help! Help!"