Whirlpools: A Novel of Modern Poland Part 8

"I unnecessarily became excited before mother and the ladies," he said to himself, "but I must explain this matter to Gronski."

Accordingly, at the close of the ma.s.s, he turned to him:

"I want to speak with you about various matters, but only in four eyes.

Is that satisfactory?"

"All right," answered Gronski, "when?"

"Not to-day, for I must first go to Rzeslewo to question the men, look over the estate, and then attend to the guests. It will be best to-morrow evening or the day after. We will take our rifles with us and go to the woods. Now there is a flight of woodc.o.c.ks. Dolhanski does not hunt, so we will leave him with the ladies."

"All right," repeated Gronski.

VIII

The very next day, towards evening, they strolled with their rifles and a dog in the direction of the mill, and on the way Ladislaus began to narrate all that he had learned the previous day.

"I was in Rzeslewo," he said, "but there you hear nothing good. The peasants insist that the will was forged and that the gentry twisted it about so that they could control, for their own benefit, the money and the lands. I am almost certain that Laskowicz is pouring oil upon that fire. But why? I cannot understand; nevertheless, that is the case. The landless, in particular, are wrought up and say that if the fortune is divided among them, they, themselves, will contribute for a school. In reality, they have no conception of the kind of school Zarnowski wanted, nor of the cost of establishing it."

"In view of this, what do you intend to do?" asked Gronski.

"I do not know. I will see. In the meantime I will try to convince them. I also begged the rector to explain the matter to them and spoke with a few of the older husbandmen. I seemed to have persuaded them; but unfortunately with them it is thus: that everyone, taken singly, is intelligent and even sensible, but when you talk to them together, it is like trying to smash a stone wall with your head."

"That is nothing strange," answered Gronski; "take ten thousand doctors of philosophy together and they become a mob which is ruled by gesticulations."

"That may be," said Ladislaus, "but I did not wish to speak of the will only. I also saw the old Rzeslewo overseer and learned a great many, intensely curious things. Figure to yourself that our guesses were wrong and that Hanka Skibianka is not the daughter of Uncle Zarnowski."

"And that seemed so certain! But what kind of proof have you of this?"

"Very simple. Skiba was a native of Galicia and emigrated to Rzeslewo with his wife and daughter when the latter was five years old. As Zarnowski, while well, stayed in the village like a wall, and at that time for at least ten years had not travelled anywhere, it is evident that he could not have been the father of that girl."

"That decides the matter. I cannot understand why he bequeathed to her ten thousand roubles."

"There is an interesting history connected with that," replied Ladislaus. "You must know that the deceased, though now it appears that he loved the peasants, always kept them under very strict control. He managed them according to the old system; that is, he abused them from morning till night. They say that when he cursed in the corridor you could hear him over half the village. A certain day he went into the blacksmith's shop and, finding something out of order, began to berate the blacksmith unmercifully. The smith bowed and listened in humility.

It happened that little Hanka at that time was in front of the smithy and, seeing what was taking place, seized a little stick and started to belabor Zarnowski with it all over the legs. 'You will scold Tata, will you?' It is said that the deceased at first was dumbfounded, but afterwards burst into such laughter that his anger against the blacksmith pa.s.sed away."

"That Hanka pleases me."

"So did she please Uncle. The very same day he sent a rouble to the smith's wife and ordered her to bring the child to the manor-house.

From that time he became attached to her. He commanded the old housekeeper to teach her to read, and attended to it himself. The child likewise became devoted to him, and this continued for a number of years. In the end people began to say that the master wanted to keep the smith's daughter entirely at his residence and have her educated as a lady, but this, it seems, was untrue. He wanted to bring her up as a stout village la.s.s and give her a dowry. The Skibas, whose only child she was, declared that they would not surrender her for anything in the world. Of course, I know only what the overseer told me, for our relations with the deceased were broken on account of the mill from which he drained the water for his ponds."

"And later the Skibas emigrated."

"Yes, but before that time Zarnowski began to fail in health and moved to Warsaw, and subsequently resided abroad; so that their relations relaxed. When the Skibas emigrated, the girl was seventeen. Uncle, on his return to Rzeslewo to die, longed for her and waited for some news of her. But as he had previously removed even his furniture from Rzeslewo to the city, she evidently a.s.sumed that he never would return and did not know where to write."

"The bequest proves best that he did not forget her," said Gronski, "and from the whole will it appears that he was a man of better heart than people thought."

"Surely," answered Ladislaus.

For an interval they walked in silence; then Krzycki resumed the conversation.

"As for myself, I prefer that she is not the daughter of the deceased."

"Why? Has that any bearing on the bequest?"

"No. Under no circ.u.mstances will I accept that bequest. Never!"

"That is all very well, but tell me, why did you renounce it with such vehemence that everybody was astonished?"

"There is one circ.u.mstance which neither Mother nor anybody else even suspects, but which I will sincerely confess to you. In the proper time I seduced that girl."

Gronski stood still, gazed at Ladislaus, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:

"What's that?"

As he was not p.r.o.ne to treat such matters with levity and, besides, the previous narrative of Krzycki had awakened within him a sympathy for Hanka, he frowned and asked:

"For the fear of G.o.d! You seduced a child? And you say it was done in the proper time?"

But Ladislaus replied quite calmly:

"Let us not stop, for the dog has gone too far ahead of us," and here he pointed at the white spaniel running before them. "I did not seduce a child, for at that time she was sixteen. It happened more than seven years ago, while I was still a student and came to Jastrzeb on a vacation."

"Were there any consequences?"

"As far as I know there were none. You will understand that having returned the following vacation and not finding either her or the Skibas, I did not ask about them, for on the thief's head the cap burns.[2] But to-day I casually asked the overseer whether the Skibas had not probably emigrated because some mishap had befallen their daughter. He answered, 'No.'"

"Then it is better for her and for you."

"Certainly it is much better; for otherwise the matter would have been brought to light and would reach Mother's ears."

"And in such case you would suffer much unpleasantness."

There was irony in Gronski's voice, but Ladislaus, absorbed in his own thoughts, did not notice it and said:

"In such case, I would have unpleasantness because Mother in such matters is exceedingly severe. So, to-day, after mature deliberation, I am like a wolf, who will commit no injury in the neighborhood where he keeps his nest, but at that time I was more headstrong and less careful."

"May the deuce take you!" exclaimed Gronski.

"For what?"

"Nothing; speak on."

"I have not much more to say. Recurring to the will, you now understand why I could not accept it."

"Perhaps I do, but tell me 'thy exquisite reason,' as Shakespeare says."