The Playground of Satan Part 13

Thus she explained to herself the lock-picking of the morning; told herself _she_ would have refused to have anything more to do with Joseph under the circ.u.mstances. First, he fights for Prussia: then he risks his brother's life, gives his brother's life, to save his own skin. And now as Vanda did not know that Roman had given his life in exchange, offered it for her happiness, she would marry Joseph. And that is what Minnie wanted her to do, with as little delay as possible.

Ian, too, examined the door, and the lock that Roman, so he thought, had picked and put on the dirty pallet. His mother asked what he made of the business.

"Roman is worth a thousand Josephs," he answered hotly. "Think of the risk! If the soldiers had shot the bolt, he would have been lost."

"But he saved Joseph so that he might fight for the right side," put in Vanda.

Their eyes met. He had his own thoughts on the matter, and his face was stern. Instead of speaking, he went out of the room.

He felt irritable. Though work waited him below he made for the old priest's room; he wanted to hear how Roman had persuaded his brother to accept the exchange. His contempt for Joseph grew at every step. How was he to know the trick would succeed? Yes: Joseph had left his brother in a trap, from which he escaped by the skin of his teeth, because the guards were too lazy to shoot the bolt. And Roman had done it for Vanda's sake. He believed love meant sacrifice and lived up to his belief. How _could_ Vanda care for Joseph? Ian was disappointed in her, thought she had a juster sense of values. How blind love made women!

Father Constantine was asleep, and he had no opportunity that day of talking about the adventure with him. And later on, even, Father Constantine was very reticent about the scene in the turret chamber.

When questioned about it, he would shut his bright, bird-like eyes, fold his thin hands together and say, in a voice shaking with emotion:

"It was the most terrible evening of my life. Let us not talk of it."

"Roman will tell me," said Ian, loth to disturb the old chaplain any more. "He may be here any day."

But it was some time before any Cossacks stopped at Ruvno, and when the first contingent rested there for a few hours, they told Ian they knew nothing of Roman's regiment, but thought it was fighting in Galicia.

But Joseph's escape caused changes in the family, all the same.

VII

The Ruvno family had finished supper. There were no servants in the room. Father Constantine was in bed, worn out with the excitement of the night before; and Joseph was still lying low. Martin, the old butler, waited on him; none of the other servants knew he was in the house. All they heard was that a Cossack officer who wished to be quiet had been given the blue guest-room. He had a nasty wound in his hand; but Father Constantine, who was something of a surgeon, said he could treat it without calling in the Russian Red Cross doctor who looked after the wounded. So the four, the Countess, Ian, Vanda and Minnie, were all alone in the room.

Ian had been unusually taciturn during the simple evening meal which replaced the elaborate dinners of peaceful days, and after several attempts to make him talk the others let him alone. Somebody had brought a batch of papers from Warsaw and he seemed to be absorbed in them. Minnie, whose intentions were good, though unfortunate, began the trouble by saying she supposed there would be a wedding soon.

Ian looked up at once. He had been listening all the time. Minnie scented trouble, because of a gleam in his eyes, and was sorry she had spoken. But it was too late now.

"Whose wedding?" he asked.

"Why, mine, of course," put in Vanda.

He thrust aside the paper and took a cigarette from a large box at his mother's elbow, set it alight and began to walk up and down the large room. He remained in shadow for several seconds; there was no electric light in Ruvno and they were obliged to economize in oil in these difficult times. He pa.s.sed and repa.s.sed under the one lamp and they noticed that each time he emerged out of the shadows he looked graver, more determined to perform some unpleasant task. Vanda had grown as pale as when the priest told her Joseph was sentenced to death. Minnie, ever watchful, thought she had changed greatly of late; she used to think her commonplace and dull; but not now. She, too, followed Ian with her eyes.

At last he spoke. And there was all the authority of the head of the house in look, tone and manner.

"Vanda, you cannot marry him, now."

"Why?"

He stopped before her, the table between them, the light s.h.i.+ning on his large, well-shaped head. He was calm, his voice low; yet great emotion lay beneath.

"Why did Rennenkampf sentence him to death?"

You could have heard a pin drop in that vast room. All knew the answer, but none had the courage to give it, least of all Vanda, white to the lips, shaking with nervous excitement.

"Think of it," said Ian, almost in a whisper. "And on Ruvno soil."

Quivering in every nerve, she sprang to her feet, her face transformed by pa.s.sion, indignation, a desire to defend her absent lover.

"It is false!" she whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "I swear it is false! He never came to spy! He came because they were near; he wanted to see me. His regiment was ordered to France. He could not bear to leave without seeing me, without explaining. He meant to wait by the lake till nightfall, then creep nearer. But some Jews saw him and told a company of sappers, who caught him. How could he tell why he was there, how could he get us in ill report with Rennenkampf? Oh! it is so plain I wonder you haven't all guessed it long ago. And if you don't believe me go and ask him."

"I believe you believe that," he admitted. "But others won't."

She turned to her aunt, asking for champions.h.i.+p. The Countess caressed her, but her hazel eyes were firm as Ian's.

"Joseph must clear himself," she said.

"But he has!"

"To you ... but not to those who know he went back to fight for Germany."

Vanda urged no more, but sat down again, her elbows on the white cloth, the picture of dejection. In England, grown-up sons and daughters do much as they please. But here, things were different. Even Minnie knew that Vanda would not marry against Ian's will, because he was the head of her family and the family has an overwhelming moral power in Poland.

Each family, whether that of a prince or a peasant, is a little community in itself, with laws and traditions which no member can break without incurring the opposition and anger of the whole. This spirit of family discipline, which has largely disappeared in politically free countries, is, if anything, stronger amongst the Poles since they lost their political freedom, more than a century ago. The reason is simple.

Each family is a little unit of social and political resistance, which for generations has been fighting for religion, language and national customs ... and in unity is strength.

Minnie sat quiet as a mouse. They had forgotten her. A servant came to clear the table, handed tea, and disappeared.

Ian sat down again, between Vanda and his mother. Minnie had moved to a shadowy end of the long table. None of them gave her a thought from the moment she mooted Vanda's marriage till the end of their discussion.

She had started it; but there her part ended. They were all three under the big lamp, and every line, every change of expression showed clearly.

She kept eyes and ears open.

Ian lighted another cigarette. He was nervous; drank some tea and began playing with his spoon, squeezing the slice of lemon left at the bottom of the cup.

As he glanced up at the clock there was a pained look in his face.

Honor told Minnie she ought to leave the room. But curiosity held her.

This love affair of another woman was partly hers as well.

"I want to see him before he goes to sleep," Vanda said. "Have you anything to say?"

He pulled himself together and began:

"When Joseph obeyed that call to go home I approved. I even warned Roman against the possible consequences of disobedience."

"Well?"

"That was before I knew what this war meant, before Kalisz, Liege, Louvain."

"Joseph loathes all those atrocities as much as any of us..." she broke in.

"Yes. That is a double reason why he ought never to have gone on wearing a Prussian uniform."