Whirlpools: A Novel of Modern Poland Part 36

"Not in the least. I did that, firstly, because I expect a reward, on which, after all, in such virtuous company, I prefer not to dilate--unless after a second bottle--and again, because I will have some one upon whom I can vent my spleen and a.s.sert my ascendency. I a.s.sure you that my gallows-bird will not sleep upon roses--and who knows whether after a week he will not prefer the gallows to my hospitality?"

"That is possible. But in the meantime?"

"In the meantime I bought for him Allen's Waters in order to bleach the black tufts of hair on his head into a light color. 'Are te biondegiante'--as during t.i.tian's time. I feel also a little satisfaction at the thought that the police will stand on their heads to find him and will not get him."

"But if they find him?"

"I doubt it. Do you remember that for a certain time I had a footman, a native of Bessarabia, whom you knew? Over two months ago he robbed me and ran away. He has already written to me from New York with a proposition which I will not repeat to you. A superb type! Perfectly modern. But before his escape he begged me to return to him his pa.s.sport, as now they are asking about pa.s.sports every moment. But I mislaid it in some book and could not find it. But recently--two or three days ago--I accidentally found it, so that my gallows-bird will have not only blond hair but also a pa.s.sport."

"And will he not rob you like his predecessor?"

"I told him that he ought to do that, but he became indignant. It seems to me that he is boiling with indignation from morning until night, and if in the end he should steal from me it would be from indignation that I could suppose anything like that of him. That little patroness who shoved him on my neck vouches also that he is honest, but did not even tell me his name. Clever girl! For she says thus: 'If they find him, then you can excuse yourself on the plea that you did not know who he was.' And she is right--though when some marks of grat.i.tude are concerned, she scratches like a cat. For her, I expose myself to the halter, and when I wanted from her a little of that--then I almost got it in the snout."

Gronski knit his brows and began to sharply eye Swidwicki; after which, he said:

"Miss Anney's servant asked me this morning about your residence. Tell me, what does that mean?"

Swidwicki again drank the wine.

"Ah, she also called--she was there. Pani Otocka sent through her an invitation."

"Pani Otocka sent you an invitation through Pauly. Tell that to some one else."

"About what are you concerned?" asked Swidwicki, with jovial effrontery. "She ordered her to send the invitation through a messenger but the messengers since last night are on a strike. Now everybody strikes. Girls also,--with the exception of the 'female a.s.sociates,'

particularly the old and ugly ones. These, if they strike, then sans le vouloir."

The reply appeared to Gronski to be satisfactory, as in reality messengers had been absent from the streets since the previous day.

Then Swidwicki turned the conversation into another direction.

"I received him," he said, "not to save an a.s.s, but because I am bored and it just suited me. Some wise Italian once said that the divinity which holds everything in this world in restraint is called la paura,--fear; and the Italian was right. If the people did not fear, nothing would remain--not a single social form of life! On this ladder of fear there are numerous rounds and the highest is the fear of death.

Death! That is a real divinity! Reges rego, leges lego, judice judico!

And I confess that I, whose life has been pa.s.sed in toppling from pedestals various divinities, had the most difficulty in overcoming this divinity. But I overcame it and so completely that I made it my dog."

"What did you do?"

"A dog, which as often as it pleases me, I stroke over the hair, as for instance now, when I received that revolutionary b.o.o.by. But that is yet nothing! See under what terror people live: the executioner's axe, the gallows, the bullet, cancer, consumption, typhoid fever, tabes--suffering, pain, whole months and years of torture--and why?

Before the fear of death. And I jeer at that. Me, hangman will not execute, cancer will not gnaw, consumption will not consume, pain will not break, torture will not debase, for I shout, in a given moment, at this divinity before which all tremble, as at a spaniel: 'Lie down!'"

After which he laughed and said:

"And that mad b.o.o.by of mine, however, hid himself as if before death.

Tell me what would happen if people actually did not fear?"

"They would not be themselves," answered Gronski. "They desire life, not death."

XI

Swidwicki did not lie when he said that he did not know the name of the revolutionist to whom he promised an asylum, for in reality Pauly had made a secret of it. She so arranged it with Laskowicz on the way. The young student, learning that Swidwicki, to whom the girl was conducting him, was an acquaintance of Gronski and Pani Otocka, in the first moments became frightened inordinately. He recollected the letters which he had written to Panna Marynia, and his odious relations with Krzycki upon whom his party a short time previously perpetrated an attack. Personally he did not partic.i.p.ate in it and the suggestion did not emanate from him, but on the other hand he did not have the slightest doubt that the committee issued the death sentence as a result of his reports designating Krzycki as the chief obstacle to their propaganda, and he remembered that he did nothing to prevent the attempt, and was even pleased in his soul that a man, hateful to him and at the same time a putative rival, would be removed from his path.

For a time he even felt, owing to this "washing of hands," a certain internal disgust; at the intelligence, however, that the attack was unsuccessful he experienced, as it were, a feeling of disappointment.

And now he was going to seek shelter with a man who was a relative of Pani Otocka and who might have heard of the letters to Marynia and his relations with Krzycki. This was a turn of affairs, clearly fatal, which might frustrate the best intentions of Panna Pauly.

Considering all this he began to beg the girl not to mention his name, giving as a reason that in case the police should find him, Swidwicki would be less culpable.

Pauly admitted the full justness of this; after a while, however, she observed that if Pan Gronski should ever visit Swidwicki then everything would be disclosed.

"Yes," answered the student, "but I need that refuge for only a few days; after which I will look for another, or else my chiefs may dispatch me abroad."

"What chiefs?" asked Pauly.

"Those who desire liberty and bread for all, and who will not tolerate that some one should be raised above you, little lady, either in rank or money."

"I do not understand. How is that? I would not be a servant and would not have a mistress?"

"Yes."

Pauly was struck by the thought that in that case she would be nearer to her "young lord," but not having time to discuss this any longer, she repeated:

"I do not understand. Later, I will question you about it, but now let us proceed."

And they walked hurriedly ahead, in silence, until they reached Swidwicki's door. On the ringing of the bell, he opened it himself.

With surprise but also with a smile he saw Pauly in the dark hallway and afterwards catching sight of Laskowicz, he asked:

"What is he here for? Who is he?"

"May we enter and may I speak with you in private?" asked the girl.

"If you please. The more private, the more agreeable it will be to me."

And they entered. The student remained in the first room. The master of the house conducted Pauly to another and closed the door after him.

Laskowicz began to examine the large room, full of disorder, with books, and engravings, and an abundance of bottles with white and blue labels. On the round table, near the window, piled with daily newspapers, stood a bottle with the legend: "Vin de Coca; Mariani," and a few ash trays with charred lighters for cigars and cigarettes. The furniture in the room was heavy and evidently when new was costly but it was now dirty. Hanging on the wall were pictures, among them a portrait of Pani Otocka, while yet a young unmarried lady. In one corner protruded the well known statue of the Neapolitan Psyche with mutilated skull.

The student placed the flower-pot with the Italian lilies on the table and began to eavesdrop. His life was involved, for if shelter was denied to him he undoubtedly would be arrested that day. Through the closed door came to him from time to time Swidwicki's outbursts of laughter, and the conversing voices, in which the voice of the girl sounded at times as if entreating, and at other moments angry and indignant. This lasted a long time. Finally the doors opened and the first to enter was Pauly, evidently angry, and with burning cheeks; after her came Swidwicki, who said:

"Very well. Since the beautiful Pauly so wishes it, I will not tell any one who brought to me this Sir Ananias, and will keep him under cover, but on condition that Pauly will prove a little grateful to me."

"I am grateful," answered the girl with irritation.

"These are the proofs," said Swidwicki, displaying marks on the back of his hands. "A cat could not scratch any better. But to only look at little Pauly, I will agree even to that. The next time we will have some candy."

"Good-by till we meet again."

"Till we meet. May it be as frequent as possible."

The girl took the pot with the flowers and left. Then Swidwicki thrust his hands into his pockets and began to stare at Laskowicz as if he had before him, not a human being, but some singular animal. Laskowicz looked at him in the same way, and during that short interval they acquired for each other a mutual dislike.