Whirlpools: A Novel of Modern Poland Part 39

"Little master!--'tis I--of the mill."

And tears coursed quietly over her pallid countenance.

PART III.

I

Krzycki left Miss Anney's with a sensation as if lightning had struck directly in front of him and suddenly stunned him. He could neither collect nor connect his thoughts; he was not even in a condition to realize his situation nor reflect upon it. The only impression, or rather feeling, which in the first moments remained was a feeling of illimitable amazement. On the way he repeated every little while, "Hanka Skibianka! Hanka Skibianka!" and seemed incapable of doing aught else. He did not find Gronski at home, as the latter had left immediately after the noon hour, telling the servant that he would return late at night. So he went to his room, locked himself in without knowing why; afterwards he flung himself into an armchair and sat abstractedly for over an hour. After the lapse of that time, he opened his trunk and began to pack things into it with excessive zeal, until finally he propounded to himself the question: "Why am I doing this?"

Not being able to find an answer, he abandoned that work and only resumed it when he came to the unexpected conclusion that in any case he would have to move away from Gronski's.

Having finished, he put on his hat and left, without any well-defined object, for the city. For a while a desire rose in him to call upon his mother and Pani Otocka, but he stifled it at once. For what? It seemed to him that he had nothing to tell his mother about himself and his intentions; and that he could talk with her only about this unheard-of intelligence, the discussion of which would be for him, beyond all expression, afflicting. Unconsciously, he reached the Holy Cross Church and wanted to enter it, but the hour was late and the church was locked. The morning of that day and the joint prayer with her stood vividly before his eyes. Ah, how sincerely he prayed; how he loved her; how he loved her! And now he could not resist the impression that this light-haired, idolized lady, with whom he said in that chapel "Under Thy Protection," and Hanka Skibianka were two different beings. And he felt in his heart a kind of disenchantment with which he began to contend. For why was he nevertheless so acutely affected by it? Was it because Hanka was a peasant girl and he a n.o.bleman? No! Miss Anney never represented herself as an English n.o.blewoman, and a Polish peasant is no worse than an English commoner. He could not clearly perceive that the reason of it lay in this: that Miss Anney through her descent alone, foreign and distant, appeared to him a sort of princess, and Hanka was a near and domestic girl from Zarnow. She aroused less curiosity and therefore was less attractive. She was so much easier, therefore, cheaper to him. In vain he recalled and repeated that this Hanka is that same light-haired lady, charming as a dream, alluring, genteel, womanly, responding in sentiment to every thought and every word; the feeling of disenchantment was more powerful than those thoughts, and that charm of exoticism, which suddenly was lacking in the girl, minimized her worth in his eyes.

But, besides this, there was something else, in view of which the disenchantment and all unexpected impressions stood aside and became matters of secondary importance. This was, that he had once possessed that girl--body and soul. She was at that time almost a child--a flower not yet in full bloom which he plucked and carried for some time at his bosom. The memory of that could be a reproach only for him; no fault whatever weighed on her. He recollected those moonlight nights on which he stole to the mill; those whispers which were one quiet song of love and intoxication, interrupted only by kisses; he recalled how he clasped to his heart her girlish body, fragrant with the hay of the fields; how he drank the tears from her eyes and how he said to her that he would give up for her all the ladies of all the courts. The idyl pa.s.sed, but now there wafted upon him from her the breath of the first youthful years, the first love, the first ecstasy, and the truly great poetry of life. Besides, there was truth in what he had confided to Gronski in Jastrzeb: that the girl loved him as no other woman in the world surely would love him. And at the thought of this, his heart began to melt. Together with the wave of recollection, Hanka returned and again engaged his thoughts.

Yes. But that was Hanka and she is Miss Anney. In Ladislaus, from the time he fell in love with her, his senses leaped wildly towards her like a pack of yelping hounds; but he held them in leash because at the same time he knelt before his beloved. She was to him an object of desire but at the same time a sacred relic; something so inaccessible, exalted, pure, and mysterious in its virginity that at the thought that the moment would arrive when he would be the master of those treasures and secrets appeared to him a delight beyond all measure of delight; all the more fathomless as it was, united, as it were, with a sacrilege. And now he had to say to himself that this sacrilege he had already committed; that the charm of something unknown was dispelled; that in this vestal there were for him no mysteries and that he had already drunk from that cup. And this again was one lure less; one disenchantment more. In this manner Miss Anney muddied his recollection of the field peasant-girl, Hanka,--Hanka depreciated the charm of Miss Anney. Both were so different, so unlike each other, that, being unable to merge them into one ent.i.ty, he vainly intensified that jarring impression with a feeling of disquietude and pain.

In this vexation of spirit there occurred to him one wicked, low, and ugly thought. In what manner did the poor and simple Hanka change into the brilliant Miss Anney? In what manner could a gray sparrow from under a village thatched hut be transformed into a paradisiacal bird?

Hanka was a betrayed girl; therefore the bridges had been burnt behind her. Amidst the wealth of a foreign land, beautiful but poor girls have before them only one road to the acquisition of affluence and even polish, and that was the road of shame. Hanka found one patron who took care of her in the appropriate manner; how many similar patrons and protectors could Miss Anney find? At the thought of this Krzycki's head swam. Conscience said to him, "You opened those gates before her," and at the same time he was seized by such anger at Miss Anney and himself that if the life or death of both rested in his hands, he would at that moment have selected death. Something within him was rent asunder; something crashed. It seemed to him that again, just above his head, pealed lightning, which stunned him and burnt, within him, to a crisp, the ability to think.

He wandered a long time over the city. He himself did not know in what manner he again found himself before Pani Otocka's home, but he did not enter for he once more felt that at that time he could not speak with his mother. He returned to his own house late at night. Gronski was already at home, and for an hour had been waiting for him with the tea.

"Good evening," he said, "I have returned from your mother's."

And Ladislaus asked him with blunt impetuosity, "Do you know who Miss Anney is?"

"I do. Pani Otocka told me."

A moment of silence followed.

"What do you say to this?"

"I could ask you that question."

Ladislaus sat heavily in the chair, drew his palm over his forehead and replied with bitter irony:

"Ah, I have time. I was given a week for consideration."

"That is not too much," answered Gronski, looking at him questioningly.

"Certainly. Does Mother also know?"

"Yes. Pani Otocka told her everything."

Again silence ensued.

"My dear Laudie," said Gronski, "I can understand that this must have shocked you, and for that reason I will not speak with you of it until you calm down and regain your equipoise. You must also become familiar with and well weigh the reasons why Miss Anney told only Pani Otocka who she was and why she came to Jastrzeb under her new name, to which, after all, she has a perfect right. Here is a letter from her. She requested me to deliver it to you to-morrow and that is why I did not hand it to you as soon as you appeared. At present I do not think that it would be proper to defer the matter. But do not open it at once nor in my presence. Put it away and read it when alone, when you can ponder over every word. Positively do this. That which has happened moved me to such an extent that for the time being I could not speak of it calmly. To-day I can only give you this advice: be a man and do not allow yourself to be swept away by the current of impressions. Row!"

To this Ladislaus, who sobered up a little under the influence of these words, said:

"I thank you, sir. I will read the letter in privacy. It is now so indispensable to me that I trust, sir, that you will not take it ill of me if I no longer abuse your hospitality. I am sincerely and cordially grateful to you for everything, but I must lock myself up. How long--I do not know. When I am myself again, I will come to you to discuss everything, G.o.d grant, more calmly. Now in reality, I see that I was justly given one week's time. But besides time, I feel the need of my own den. I cannot get rid of various thoughts, immensely bitter and even horrible. To-day they hold me by the head and it is necessary that I should hold them by the head--and for that reason I want to have my own den."

"You know how willing I am to please you," answered Gronski; "I understand you, and though in advance I decided not to torment you with any questions, nevertheless, do what is best for yourself. I must tell you also that your mother is moving to a hotel, as she is offended with Pani Otocka. She took umbrage because she did not tell her at once in Jastrzeb who Miss Anney was."

"I confess that I do not understand that--"

"Nevertheless, that would have been directly contrary to what those ladies desired. Pani Otocka's intentions were the n.o.blest. Time will elucidate and equalize everything. Even Marynia did not know anything, not only because Pani Zosia was bound by her word, but also because she did not deem it proper to acquaint her with your former behavior and your relations with the Hanka of former days. With Hanka--Miss Anney!

That was an unheard-of turn of affairs. Do you remember our conversation in Jastrzeb when we went hunting for woodc.o.c.k? Do you remember?"

"I remember, but I cannot speak of it."

"Yes, better not speak of it at this time. Miss Anney's letter undoubtedly will clear up the dark sides of the affair and explain what is now unintelligible. If you desire to read it at once, I will go and leave you here."

"I am very curious about it and for just that reason I will take my leave of you."

"But you will pa.s.s this night with me?"

"I have packed my things and the hotels are always open."

"In such case good-by!--and remember what I told you. Row! Row!"

After a moment Gronski remained alone. He also was agitated, distressed, but curious to the highest degree. When after Ladislaus'

confessions in Jastrzeb, he said to him that "the mills of the G.o.ds grind late," he spoke it in a way one utters, off-hand, any maxim to which one does not attach any real significance. In the meantime life verified it in a manner fabulous but nevertheless logical. For as a fable only appeared the transformation of Hanka into Miss Anney, but that Miss Anney desired to see the man, whom, as a child, she loved in her first transports of love and the place which bound her with so many memories, tender and sad, was a matter natural and intelligible. And, of course, she could not return to Jastrzeb and stay under the Krzycki roof-tree otherwise than under a changed name. And thus it happened; and the later events rolled on with their own force until they reached the moment when it was necessary to reveal the secret. Gronski knew already from Pani Otocka everything which she could tell him and absolved from all sin her as well as Miss Anney. Nevertheless, he understood that an unprecedented situation was created, and such a knot was twisted that the untangling of it was impossible to foresee. It could only be untwined by Krzycki, and even he stood not only in the presence of new difficulties but, as it were, in the presence of a new person.

II

The very next day after the escape from the police Pauly visited Laskowicz and afterwards called to see him as often as she could find leisure time, selecting, nevertheless, hours when Swidwicki was not at home. But this did not present great difficulties as Swidwicki usually rose about noon, after which he went away and did not return until late at night. The girl was not induced to make these frequent visits by any sentimentality nor exceptional benevolence for the young student. She even felt, particularly in the first moments, that she could despise him. But women love in general to look at close range at their good deeds and to behold, even daily, the people for whom they have become providential angels; and again Laskowicz, with every word, disclosed to her worlds of whose existence she heretofore had never guessed. About socialists thus far she knew almost nothing, except what a certain old female cook once told her, that "they do not believe in G.o.d and do not eat ducks"; and she only heard that they threw bombs and shot from revolvers. After the attack upon Krzycki howsoever much she, together with all the servants in Jastrzeb, was convinced that it was perpetrated by Rzeslewo men, nevertheless, the supposition that it might have been the socialists reached her ears, and then she was inflamed against them with a temporary ungovernable hatred. But now she was learning that they were people of an entirely different stamp. She did not yet understand what in general they wanted, but understood in particular that those people desired that she, Paulina Kielkowna, should be a kind of lady like Miss Anney or Pani Otocka. And as a bee sips juice from flowers, so she, from the words of the young fanatic, extracted nourishment for her envy, her pain, her feelings. Her heart began to draw her towards that "Party," which appeared to her as a Providence and as a power; and to this was joined the purely feminine curiosity of the awful secrets of that power. Laskowicz quickly observed that the seed fell upon fit soil; and when once, for uttering inadvertently a disparaging word against Krzycki, the girl almost scratched out his eyes, he surmised her secret and determined to exploit her, not only for the good of the cause but also for his own personal ends.

Although Pauly was not the servant of Pani Otocka but of Miss Anney, she nevertheless dwelt in the same house; so he could, through her, secure news of Marynia, which he craved with all his soul; he could quiet his fears as to Krzycki's intentions, could speak of her and hear her name; and finally could gain information as to when and where he could see her, though from a distance. And he questioned Panna Pauly about all this; at first cautiously and casually, afterwards more and more, and at last so incessantly that this began to surprise and anger her. p.r.o.ne to extremes, and more capable of hatred than affection, she wors.h.i.+pped, by way of exception, Marynia, regarding her as a sort of supernal being, and this wors.h.i.+p in her was as violent as was her hatred. On the other hand, on the ideal path, in the direction of universal equality and dislike of the higher cla.s.ses she made in a brief time considerable progress. She could not however, cast off at once her former notions, and she frequently had sudden relapses to them. Hence at one time, when Laskowicz as usual began to hurl questions at her about Panna Marynia, she answered him testily:

"Why are you always talking about Panna Zbyltowska?"

"Perhaps I am in love with her," retorted the student, knitting his brow.

At this her eyes in a moment blazed with rage.

"What more yet?"

And he began to peer at her keenly and asked:

"Why does the little lady say 'what more yet'?"