On the day of his departure, Pani Emilia and Litka, with Vaskovski, took farewell of him at the station. When in the compartment, he was rather sorry to go. Happen what might, he knew not how things would turn out at Warsaw; here he was surrounded by persons who were the sincerest well-wishers that he had in the world. Looking out through the window, he beheld the sad eyes of Litka raised toward him, and the friendly face of Pani Emilia, with the same feeling as if they had been his own family. And again that uncommon beauty of the young widow struck him, her features, delicate to the verge of excess, her angelic expression of face, and her form perfectly maidenlike, dressed in black.
Farewell, said Pani Emilia, and write to us from Warsaw; we shall see each other in three weeks or sooner.
In three weeks, repeated Pan Stanislav. I will write certainly. Till we meet again, Litus!
Till we meet again! Bow from me to Evka and Yoasia.
I will do so.
And he stretched out his hand through the window again:
Till our next meeting! Remember your friend.
We will not forget; we will not forget. Do you wish me to repeat a novena for your intention? asked Pani Emilia, smiling.
Thank you for that too. Do so. Till we meet again, Professor.
The train moved that moment. Pani Emilia and Litka waved their parasols till the more frequent puffing of the engine hid, with rolls of steam and smoke, the window through which Pan Stanislav was looking.
Mamma, asked Litka, is it really necessary to say a novena for Pan Stas?
Yes, Litus. He is so kind to us, we must pray to God to make him happy.
But is he unhappy?
No that is seest thou, every one has trouble, and he has his.
I know; I heard in Thumsee, said the little girl. And after a while she added in a low voice,
I will say a novena.
But Professor Vaskovski, who was so honest that he could not hold his tongue, said after a time to Pani Emilia, when Litka had gone forward,
That is a golden heart, and he loves you both as a brother. Now that the specialist has assured us that there is not the least fear, I can tell everything. Pan Stanislav brought him here purposely, for he was alarmed about the little girl in Thumsee.
Did he bring him? asked Pani Emilia. What a man! And tears of gratitude came to her eyes. After a while she said, But I will reward him, for I will give him Marynia.
Pan Stanislav went away with a heart full of good wishes and gratitude to Pani Emilia, for the man who has failed and for that reason falls into trouble, feels the friendship of people more keenly than others. Sitting in the corner of the compartment, with the image of Pani Emilia fresh in his mind, he said to himself,
If I had fallen in love with her! What rest, what certainty of happiness! An object in life would have been found; I should know for whom I am working, I should know whose I am, I should know that my existence has some meaning. She says, it is true, that she will not marry, but me! she might, who knows? That other is perfection, perhaps, but she may have a very dry heart.
Here he feels suddenly: Still I can think calmly about Pani Emilia; while at every recollection of that other a certain unquiet seizes me, which is at once both bitter and agreeable. I am drawn by something toward that other. I have just pressed Pani Emilias hand, and that pressure has left no sensation; while even now I remember the warm palm of Marynia, and feel a certain species of quiver at the very thought of it.
As far as Salzburg, Pan Stanislav thought only of that other. This time his thoughts began to take the form, if not of resolves, at least of questions, how is he to act toward her, and what in this state of affairs is his duty?
It is not to be denied that I caused the sale of Kremen, said he to himself. Kremen had for her not only the money value, which might perhaps have been drawn from it had the sale not been hastened, but also the value with which her heart was bound to the place. I have deprived her of both. Briefly speaking, I have wronged her. I have acted legally; but for a conscience made up of something more than paragraphs, that is not sufficient. I have offended her, I confess, and I must correct my fault in some way. But how? Buy Kremen from Mashko? I am not rich enough. I might perhaps do so by dissolving partnership with Bigiel and withdrawing all my capital; but that is materially impossible. Bigiel might fail, should I do that; hence I will not do it. There is one other way, to keep up relations as best I can with Plavitski, and propose later on for the hand of his daughter. If rejected, I shall have done at least what behooves me.
But here that second internal man, of whom Pan Stanislav made mention, raised his voice and began,
Do not shield thyself with a question of conscience. If Panna Plavitski were ten years older and ugly, thou mightst have caused in the same way the sale of Kremen, and taken from her everything which thou hast taken, and still it would not have come to thy head to ask for her hand. Tell thyself straightway that Panna Plavitski draws thee, as with nippers, by her face, her eyes, her lips, her arms, her whole person, and do not tempt thyself.
But, in general, Pan Stanislav held that second internal man firmly, and treated him sometimes with very slight ceremony. Following this method, he said to him,
First, thou knowest not, fool, that even in that case I should not try to make good the injury. That at present I wish to make it good by proposing for the lady is natural. Men always ask to marry women who please them, not those for whom they feel repulsion. If thou hast nothing better to say, then be silent.
The internal man ventured a few more timid remarks, as, for instance, that Plavitski might give command to throw Pan Stanislav downstairs; that in the best case he might not permit him to cross the threshold. But somehow Pan Stanislav was not afraid of this. People, thought he, do not use such means now; and if the Plavitskis do not receive me, so much the worse for them.
He admitted, however, that if they had even a little tact they would receive him. He knew that he would see Marynia at Pani Emilias.
Meditating in this way, he arrived at Salzburg. There was one hour till the arrival of the train from Monachium, by which he was to go to Vienna; hence he decided to walk about the town. That moment he saw in the restaurant the bright-colored pea-jacket of Bukatski, his monocle, and his small head, covered with a still smaller soft cap.
Bukatski or his spirit! cried he.
Calm thyself, Pan Stanislav, answered Bukatski, phlegmatically, greeting him as if they had parted an hour before. How art thou?
What art thou doing here?
Eating a cutlet.
To Reichenhall?
Yes. But thou art homeward?
Yes.
Thou hast proposed to Pani Emilia?
No.
Then I forgive thee. Thou mayst go.
Keep thy conceits for a fitter season. Litka is in very great danger.
Bukatski grew serious, and said, raising his brows, Ai, ai! Is that perfectly certain?
Pan Stanislav told briefly the opinion of the doctor. Bukatski listened for a while; then he said,
And is a man not to be a pessimist in this case? Poor child and poor mother! In the event of misfortune, I cannot imagine in any way how she will endure it.
She is very religious; but it is terrible to think of this.
Let us walk through the town a little, said Bukatski; one might stifle here.
She is very religious; but it is terrible to think of this.
Let us walk through the town a little, said Bukatski; one might stifle here.
They went out.
And a man in such straits is not to be a pessimist! exclaimed Bukatski. What is Litka? Simply a dove! Every one would spare her; but death will not spare her.
Pan Stanislav was silent.
I know not myself now, continued Bukatski, whether to go to Reichenhall or not. In Warsaw, when Pani Emilia is there, even I can hold out. Once a month I propose to her, once a month I receive a refusal; and thus I live from the first of one month to the first of the next. The first of the month has just passed, and I am anxious for my pension. Is the mother aware of the little girls condition?
No. The child is in danger; but perhaps a couple of years remain yet to her.
Ah! perhaps no more remain to any of us. Tell me, dost thou think of death often?
No. How would that help me? I know that I must lose the case; therefore I do not break my head over it, especially before the time.
In this is the point, we must lose, but still we keep up the trial to the end. This is the whole sense of life, which otherwise would be simply a dreary farce, but now it is a dull tragedy as well. As to me, I have three things at present to choose from: to hang myself, go to Reichenhall, or go to Monachium to see Boecklins pictures once more. If I were logical, I should choose the first; since I am not, Ill choose Reichenhall. Pani Emilia is worth the Boecklins, both as to outline and color.
What is to be heard in Warsaw? asked on a sudden Pan Stanislav, who had had that question on his lips from the first of the conversation. Hast thou seen Mashko?
I have. He has bought Kremen, he is a great landholder, and, since he has wit, he is using all his power not to seem too great. He is polite, sensible, flattering, accessible; he is changed, not to my advantage, it is true, for what do I care? but surely to his own.
Isnt he going to marry Panna Plavitski?
I hear that he wants to. Thy partner, Bigiel, said something of this, also that Mashko bought Kremen on conditions more than favorable. Thou wilt find clearer news in the city.
Where are the Plavitskis at present?
In Warsaw. They are living in the Hotel Rome. The young woman is not at all ugly. I called on them as a cousin, and talked about thee.
Thou mightst have chosen a more agreeable subject for them.
Plavitski, who is glad of what has happened, told me that thou hadst done them a service, without wishing it certainly, but thou hadst done it. I asked the young lady how it was that she saw thee in Kremen for the first time. She answered that during her visit in Warsaw thou must have been in foreign countries.
In fact, I was gone then on business of the firm to Berlin, and I remained there some time.
Indeed, I did not observe that they were offended at thee. I heard so much, however, of the young ladys love of country life, that she must, I admit, be a little angry at thee for having taken Kremen from her. In every case, she does not show any anger.
Perhaps she will show it only to me; and the opportunity will not be lacking, for I shall visit them immediately after my return.
In that case do me one little service: marry the lady, for of two evils I prefer to be thy cousin rather than Mashkos.
Very well, replied Pan Stanislav, curtly.
CHAPTER IX
After his return to Warsaw, Pan Stanislav went first of all to Bigiel, who told him minutely the conditions on which Kremen was sold. Those conditions were very profitable for Mashko. He bound himself to pay at the end of a year thirty-five thousand rubles, which were to come from the parcelling of Magyerovka, and besides to pay three thousand yearly till the death of Pan Plavitski. To Pan Stanislav the bargain did not seem at first too unfavorable for Plavitski; but Bigiel was of another opinion.
I do not judge people too hastily, said he; but Plavitski is an incurable old egotist who has sacrificed the future of his child to his own comfort, and, besides, he is frivolous. In this case the annuity is placed as it were on Kremen; but Kremen, as a ruined estate, on which there is need to spend money, has a fictitious value. If Mashko puts it in order, very well; if not, in the most favorable event he will fall behind in payment, and Plavitski may not see a copper for years. What will he do then? He will take Kremen back. But before that time Mashko will contract new debts, even to pay the old ones; and, in case of his bankruptcy, God knows how many creditors will stretch their hands after Kremen. Finally, all depends on the honesty of Mashko, who may be a correct man, but he is carrying on business riskily; if he takes one false step, it may ruin him. Who knows if this very purchase of Kremen be not such a step? for, wishing to bring the estate into order, he must draw on his credit to the utmost. I have seen men who succeeded a long time until they turned to buying great estates.
The ready money for Magyerovka will remain with the Plavitskis always, said Pan Stanislav, as if wishing to quiet his own fears for their future.
If old Plavitski does not eat it up, or play it away, or waste it.
I must think of something. I caused the sale; I must help.
Thou? asked Bigiel, with astonishment. I thought that thy relations were broken forever.
I shall try to renew them. I will visit the Plavitskis to-morrow.
I do not know that they will be glad to see thee.
And I myself do not know.
Dost wish I will go with thee? For it is a question of breaking the ice. They may not receive thee alone. It is a pity that my wife is not here. I sit by myself whole evenings and play on the violoncello. During the day I have time enough too; I can go with thee.
Pan Stanislav, however, refused, and next day he dressed himself with great care and went alone. He knew that he was a presentable man; and though usually he did not think much of this, he resolved now to omit nothing which might speak in his favor. On the way he had his head full of thoughts as to what he should say, what he should do in this case or that one, and he tried to foresee how they would receive him.
I will be as simple and outspoken as possible, said he to himself; that is the best method absolutely.
And, before he noted it, he found himself at the Hotel Rome. His heart began to beat then more quickly.
It would not be bad, thought he, if I should not find them at home. I could leave a card and see later on if Plavitski would acknowledge my visit.
But straightway he said to himself, Dont be a coward, and went forward. Learning from the servant that Plavitski was at home, he sent in his card, and after a while was invited to enter.
Plavitski was sitting at a table writing letters, drawing at intervals smoke from a pipe with a great amber mouthpiece. At sight of Pan Stanislav he raised his head, and, looking at him through gold-rimmed glasses, said,
I beg, I beg!
I learned from Bigiel that you and Panna Plavitski were in Warsaw, said Pan Stanislav, and I came to pay my respects.
That was very pretty on thy part, answered Plavitski, and, to tell the truth, I did not expect it. We parted in a bitter manner and through thy fault. But since thou hast felt it thy duty to visit me, I, as the older, open my arms to thee a second time.
The opening of the arms, however, was confined to reaching across the table a hand, which Pan Stanislav pressed, saying in his own mind,