On his return to Warsaw, Pan Stanislav passed the first evening at the
house of his partner, Bigiel, with whom, as a former schoolmate, he was
connected by personal intimacy.
Bigiel, a Cheh by descent, but of a family settled in the country for a
number of generations, had managed a small commercial bank before his
partnership with Pan Stanislav, and had won the reputation of a man not
over-enterprising, it is true, but honorable and uncommonly reliable
in business. When Pan Stanislav entered into company with him, the
house extended its activity, and became an important firm. The partners
complemented each other perfectly. Pan Stanislav was incomparably more
clever and enterprising; he had more ideas and took in a whole affair
with greater ease; but Bigiel watched its execution more carefully.
When there was need of energy, or of pushing any one to the wall, Pan
Stanislav was the man; but when it was a question of careful thought,
of examining interests from ten sides, and of patience, Bigiel's rôle
began. Their temperaments were directly opposite; and for that reason,
perhaps, they had sincere friendship for each other. Preponderance
was relatively on the side of Pan Stanislav. Bigiel believed in his
partner's uncommon capacity; and a number of ideas really happy for
the house, which Pan Stanislav had given, confirmed this belief. The
dream of both was to acquire in time capital sufficient to build
cotton-mills, which Bigiel would manage, and Pan Stanislav direct.
But, though both might count themselves among men almost wealthy, the
mills were in a remote future. Less patient, and having many relatives,
Pan Stanislav tried, it is true, immediately after his return from
abroad, to direct to this object local, so-called "our own," capital;
he was met, however, with a general want of confidence. He noticed at
the same time a wonderful thing: his name opened all doors to him, but
rather injured than helped him in business. It might be that those
people who invited him to their houses could not get it into their
heads that one of themselves, hence a man of good family and with a
name ending in _ski_, could conduct any business successfully. This
angered Polanyetski to such a degree that the clever Bigiel had to
quench his outburst by stating that such want of confidence was in fact
caused by years of experience. Knowing well the history of different
industrial undertakings, he cited to Pan Stanislav a whole series of
cases, beginning with Tyzenhaus, the treasurer, and ending with various
provincial and land banks, which had nothing of the country about them
except their names,--in other words, they were devoid of every home
basis.
"The time has not come yet," said Bigiel; "but it will come, or,
rather, it is in sight. Hitherto there have been only amateurs and
dilettanti; now for the first time are appearing here and there trained
specialists."
Pan Stanislav who, in spite of his temperament, had powers of
observation rather well developed, began to make strange discoveries
in those spheres to which his relatives gave him access. He was met
by a general recognition for having done something. This recognition
was offered with emphasis even; but in it there was something like
condescension. Each man let it be known too readily that he approved
Polanyetski's activity, that he considered it necessary; but no one
bore himself as if he considered the fact that Polanyetski was working
at some occupation as a thing perfectly common and natural. "They
all _protect_ me," said he; and that was true. He came also to the
conclusion that if, for example, he aspired to the hand of any of the
young ladies of so-called "society," his commercial house and his title
of "affairist" would, notwithstanding the above recognition, have
injured more than helped him. They would rather give him any of those
maidens if, instead of a lucrative business, he had some encumbered
estate, or if, while living as a great lord, he was merely spending the
interest of his capital, or even the capital itself.
When he had made dozens of observations of this kind, Pan Stanislav
began to neglect his relatives, and at last abandoned them altogether.
He restricted himself to the houses of Bigiel and Pani Emilia
Hvastovski, and to those male acquaintances who were a necessity of
his single life. He took his meals at Francois's with Bukatski, old
Vaskovski, and the advocate Mashko, with whom he discussed and argued
various questions; he was often at the theatre and at public amusements
of all kinds. For the rest, he led rather a secluded life; hence he
was unmarried yet, though he had great and fixed willingness to marry,
and, besides, sufficient property.
Having gone after his return from Kremen almost directly to Bigiel's,
he poured out all his gall on "uncle" Plavitski, thinking that he would
find a ready and sympathetic listener; but Bigiel was moved little by
his narrative, and said,--
"I know such types. But, in truth, where is Plavitski to find money,
since he has none? If a man holds mortgages, he should have a saint's
patience. Landed property swallows money easily, but returns it with
the greatest difficulty."
"Listen, to me, Bigiel," said Pan Stanislav; "since thou hast begun to
grow fat and sleep after dinner, one must have a saint's patience with
thee."
"But is it true," asked the unmoved Bigiel, "that thou art in absolute
need of this money? Hast thou not at thy disposal the money that each
of us is bound to furnish?"
"I am curious to know what that is to thee, or Plavitski. I have money
with him; I must get it, and that is the end of the matter."
The entrance of Pani Bigiel, with a whole flock of children, put a
curb on the quarrel. She was young yet, dark-haired, blue-eyed, very
kind, and greatly taken up with her children, six in number,--children
liked by Pan Stanislav uncommonly; she was for this reason his
sincere friend, and also Pani Emilia's. Both these ladies, knowing
and loving Marynia Plavitski, had made up their minds to marry her to
Pan Stanislav; both had urged him very earnestly to go to Kremen for
the money. Hence Pani Bigiel was burning with curiosity to know what
impression the visit had made on him. But as the children were present,
it was impossible to speak. Yas, the youngest, who was walking on his
own feet already, embraced Pan Stanislav's leg and began to pull it,
calling "Pan, Pan!" which in his speech sounded, "Pam, Pam!" two little
girls, Evka and Yoasia, climbed up without ceremony on the knees of
the young man; but Edzio and Yozio explained to him their business.
They were reading the "Conquest of Mexico," and were playing at this
"Conquest." Edzio, raising his brows and stretching his hands upwards,
spoke excitedly,--
"I will be Cortez, and Yozio a knight on horseback; but as neither Evka
nor Yoasia wants to be Montezuma, what can we do? We can't play that
way, can we? Somebody must be Montezuma; if not, who will lead the
Mexicans?"
"But where are the Mexicans?" asked Pan Stanislav.
"Oh," said Yozio, "the chairs are the Mexicans, and the Spaniards too."
"Then wait, I'll be Montezuma; now take Mexico!"
An indescribable uproar began. Pan Stanislav's vivacity permitted him
to become a child sometimes. He offered such a stubborn resistance to
Cortez that Cortez fell to denying him the right to such resistance,
exclaiming, not without historic justice, that since Montezuma was
beaten, he must let himself be beaten. To which Montezuma answered that
he cared little for that; and he fought on. In this way the amusement
continued a good while. And Pani Bigiel, unable to wait for the end,
asked her husband at last,--
"How was the visit to Kremen?"
"He did what he is doing now," answered Bigiel, phlegmatically: "he
overturned all the chairs, and went away."
"Did he tell thee that?"
"I had no time to ask him about the young lady; but he parted with
Plavitski in a way that could not be worse. He wants to sell his claim;
this will cause evidently a complete severance of relations."
"That is a pity," answered Pani Bigiel.
At tea, when the children had gone to bed, she questioned Pan Stanislav
plainly concerning Marynia.
"I do not know," said he; "perhaps she is pretty, perhaps she is not. I
did not linger long over the question."
"That is not true," said Pani Bigiel.
"Then it is not true; and she is lovable and pretty, and whatever you
like. It is possible to fall in love with her, and to marry her; but a
foot of mine will never be in their house again. I know perfectly why
you sent me there; but it would have been better to tell me what sort
of a man her father is, for she must be like him in character, and if
that be true, then thanks for the humiliation."
"But think over what you say: 'She is pretty, she is lovable, it is
possible to marry her,' and then again: 'She must be like her father.'
These statements do not hold together."
"Maybe not; it is all one to me! I have no luck, and that is enough."
"But I will tell you two things: first, you have come back deeply
impressed by Marynia; second, that she is one of the best young ladies
whom I have seen in life, and he will be happy who gets her."
"Why has not some one taken her before now?"
"She is twenty-one years old, and entered society not long since.
Besides, don't think that she has no suitors."
"Let some other man take her."
But Pan Stanislav said this insincerely, for the thought that some
other man might take her was tremendously bitter for him. In his soul,
too, he felt grateful to Pani Bigiel for her praises of Marynia.
"Let that rest," said he; "but you are a good friend."
"Not only to Marynia, but to you. I only ask for a sincere, a really
sincere, answer. Are you impressed or not?"
"I impressed? to tell the truth,--immensely."
"Well, do you see?" said Pani Bigiel, whose face was radiant with
pleasure.
"See what? I see nothing. She pleased me immensely,--true! You have no
idea what a sympathetic and attractive person she is; and she must be
good. But what of that? I cannot go a second time to Kremen, I came
away in such anger. I said such bitter things, not only to Plavitski,
but to her, that it is impossible."
"Have you complicated matters much?"
"Rather too much than too little."
"Then a letter might soften them."
"I write a letter to Plavitski, and beg his pardon! For nothing on
earth! Moreover, he has cursed me."
"How, cursed?"
"As patriarch of the family; in his own name and the names of all
ancestors. I feel toward him such a repulsion that I could not write
down two words. He is an old pathetic comedian. I would sooner beg her
pardon; but what would that effect? She must take her father's part;
even I understand that. In the most favorable event, she would answer
that my letter is very agreeable to her; and with that relations would
cease."
"When Emilia returns from Reichenhall we will bring Marynia here under
the first plausible pretext, and then it will be your work to let
misunderstandings vanish."
"Too late, too late!" repeated Pan Stanislav; "I have promised myself
to sell the claim, and I will sell it."
"That is just what may be for the best."
"No, that would be for the worst," put in Bigiel; "but I will persuade
him not to sell. I hope, too, that a purchaser will not be found."
"Meanwhile Emilia will finish Litka's cure." Here Pani Bigiel turned to
Pan Stanislav: "You will learn now how other young ladies will seem to
you after Marynia. I am not so intimate with her as Emilia is, but I
will try to find the first convenient pretext to write to her and find
out what she thinks of you."
The conversation ended here. On the way home, Pan Stanislav saw that
Marynia had taken by no means the last place in his soul. To tell the
truth, he could hardly think of aught else. But he had at the same
time the feeling that this acquaintance had begun under unfavorable
conditions, and that it would be better to drive the maiden from
his mind while there was time yet. As a man rather strong than weak
mentally, and not accustomed to yield himself to dreams simply because
they were pleasant, he resolved to estimate the position soberly, and
weigh it on all sides. The young lady possessed, it is true, almost
every quality which he demanded in his future wife, and also she was
near his heart personally. But at the same time she had a father whom
he could not endure; and, besides the father, a real burden in the form
of Kremen and its connections.
"With that pompous old monkey I should never live in peace; I could
not," thought Pan Stanislav. "For relations with him are possible only
in two ways: it is necessary either to yield to him (to do this I am
absolutely unable), or to shake him up every day, as I did in Kremen.
In the first case, I, an independent man, would enter into unendurable
slavery to an old egotist; in the second, the position of my wife would
be difficult, and our peace might be ruined."
"I hope that this is sober, logical reasoning. It would be faulty only
if I were in love with the maiden already. But I judge that this is not
the case. I am occupied with her, not in love with her. These two are
different. _Ergo_, it is necessary to stop thinking of Marynia, and let
some other man take her."
At this last idea, a feeling of bitterness burned him vividly, but he
thought, "I am so occupied with her that this is natural. Finally, I
have chewed more than one bitter thing in life; I will chew this one as
well. I suppose also that it will be less bitter each day."
But soon he discovered that besides bitterness there remained in him
also a feeling of sorrow because the prospects had vanished which had
been opening before him. It seemed to him that a curtain of the future
had been raised, and something had shown him what might be; then the
curtain had fallen on a sudden, and his life had returned to its former
career, which led finally to nothing, or rather led to a desert. Pan
Stanislav felt in every ease that the old philosopher Vaskovski was
right, and that the making of money is only a means. Beyond that, we
must solve life's riddle in some fashion. There must be an object,
an important task, which, accomplished in a manner straightforward
and honorable, leads to mental peace. That peace is the soul of life;
without it life has, speaking briefly, no meaning.
Pan Stanislav was in some sense a child of the age; that is, he bore in
himself a part of that immense unrest which in the present declining
epoch is the nightmare of mankind. In him, too, the bases on which life
had rested hitherto were crumbling. He too doubted whether rationalism,
stumbling against every stone at the wayside, could take the place
of faith; and faith he had not found yet. He differed, however, from
contemporary "decadents" in this,--that he had not become disenchanted
with himself, his nerves, his doubts, his mental drama, and had not
given himself a dispensation to be an imbecile and an idler. On the
contrary, he had the feeling, more or less conscious, that life as it
is, mysterious or not mysterious, must be accomplished through a series
of toils and exploits. He judged that if it is impossible to answer the
various "whys," still it behooves a man to do something because action
itself may, to a certain degree, be an answer. It may be inconclusive,
it is true; but the man who answers in that way casts from himself
at least responsibility. What remains then? The founding of a family
and social ties. These must, to a certain degree, be a right of human
nature and its predestination, for otherwise people would neither marry
nor associate in societies. A philosophy of this kind, resting on Pan
Stanislav's logical male instinct, indicated marriage to him as one
of the main objects of life. His will had for along time been turned
and directed to this object. A while before, Panna Marynia seemed to
him the pier "for which his ship was making in that gloomy night." But
when he understood that the lamp on that pier had not been lighted for
him, that he must sail farther, begin a new voyage over unknown seas,
a feeling of weariness and regret seized him. But his reasoning seemed
to him logical, and he went home with an almost settled conviction that
"it was not yet that one," and "not yet this time."
Next day, when he went to dine, he found Vaskovski and Bukatski at
the restaurant. After a while Mashko also came in, with his arrogant,
freckled face and long side whiskers, a monocle on his eye, and wearing
a white waistcoat. After the greeting, all began to inquire of Pan
Stanislav touching his journey, for they knew partly why the ladies had
insisted on his personal visit, and, besides, they knew Marynia through
Pani Emilia.
After they had heard the narrative, Bukatski, transparent as Sevres
porcelain, said with that phlegm special to him,--
"It is war, then? That is a young lady who acts on the nerves, and now
would be the time to strike for her. A woman will accept more readily
the arm offered on a stony path than on a smooth road."
"Then offer an arm to her," said Pan Stanislav, with a certain
impatience.
"See thou, my beloved, there are three hindrances. First, Pani Emilia
acts on my nerves still more; second, I have a pain in my neck every
morning, and in the back of my head, which indicates brain disease;
third, I am naked."
"Thou naked?"
"At least now. I have bought a number of Falks, all _avant la lettre_.
I have plucked myself for a month, and if I receive from Italy a
certain Massaccio, for which I have been bargaining, I shall ruin
myself for a year."
Vaskovski, who from his features, or rather from the freckles on his
face, was somewhat like Mashko, though much older, and with a face full
of sweetness, fixed his blue eyes on Bukatski, and said,--
"And that too is a disease of the age,--collecting and collecting on
all sides!"
"Oh, ho! there will be a dispute," remarked Mashko.
"We have nothing better to do," said Pan Stanislav.
And Bukatski took up the gauntlet.
"What have you against collecting?"
"Nothing," answered Vaskovski. "It is a kind of old-womanish method of
loving art, worthy of our age. Do you not think there is something
decrepit about it? To my thinking, it is very characteristic. Once
people bore within them enthusiasm for high art: they loved it where it
was, in museums, in churches; to-day they take it to their own private
cabinets. Long ago people ended with collecting; to-day they begin with
it, and begin at oddities: I am not talking at Bukatski; but to-day
the youngest boy, if he has a little money, will begin to collect--and
what? Not objects of art, but its oddities, or in every case its
trifles. You see, my dear friend, it has seemed to me always that love
and amateurism are two different things; and I insist that a great
amateur of women, for example, is not a man capable of lofty feeling."
"Perhaps so. There is something in that," said Pan Stanislav.
"How can this concern me?" inquired Mashko, passing his fingers through
his English side whiskers. "It contains, to begin with, the decree of
an ancient pedagogue about modern times."
"Of a pedagogue?" repeated Vaskovski. "Why, since a morsel of bread
fell to me, as from heaven,[3] I renounced the slaughter of innocents
and the rôle of Herod; secondly, you are mistaken in saying that I
utter a decree. Almost with joy I see and note new proofs every hour
that we are at the end of an epoch, and that a new one will begin
shortly."
"We are in the open sea, and will not turn to shore soon," muttered
Mashko.
"Give us peace," said Pan Stanislav.
But the unconquered Vaskovski continued,--
"Amateurism leads to refinement; in refinement great ideals perish, and
yield to desire for enjoyment. All this is nothing but paganism. No one
can realize to what a degree we are paganized. But is there something?
There is the Aryan spirit, which does not ossify, which never grows
cold,--a spirit which has within it the divine afflatus, hence creative
power; and this spirit feels hampered in pagan fetters. The reaction
has set in already, and a rebirth in Christ will begin in this field,
as in others. That is undoubted."
Vaskovski, who had eyes like a child,--that is, reflecting only
external objects and ever fixed, as it were, on infinity,--fixed them
on the window, through which were visible gray clouds pierced here and
there by sun-rays.
"It is a pity that my head aches, for that will be a curious epoch,"
said Bukatski.
But Mashko, who called Vaskovski "a saw," and was annoyed by his
discussions, begun from any cause or without cause, took from the
side-pocket of his coat a cigar, bit off the end, and, turning to Pan
Stanislav, said,--
"Here, Stas, wouldst thou really sell that claim on Kremen?"
"Decidedly. Why dost thou ask?"
"Because I might consider it."
"Thou?"
"Yes. Thou knowest that I consider this kind of business frequently. We
can talk about it. I cannot say anything certain to-day; but to-morrow
I will ask thee to send me the mortgage on Kremen, and I will tell thee
whether the thing is possible. Perhaps after dinner to-morrow thou wilt
come to me to drink coffee; we may settle something then."
"Well. If anything is to be done, I should prefer it done quickly; for
the moment I finish with Bigiel, I wish to go abroad."
"Whither art thou going?" asked Bukatski.
"I do not know. It is too hot in the city. Somewhere to trees and
water."
"Another old prejudice," said Bukatski. "In the city there is always
shade on one side of the street, which there is not in the country. I
walk on the shady side quietly and feel well; therefore I never go out
of the city in summer."
"But Professor, art thou not going somewhere?" asked Pan Stanislav.
"Of course. Pani Emilia has been urging me to go to Reichenhall.
Perhaps I shall go."
"Then let us go together. It is all one to me where I go. I like
Salzburg, and, besides, it will be pleasant to see Pani Emilia and
Litka."
Bukatski stretched forth his transparent hand, took a tooth-pick from a
glass, and, picking his teeth, began to speak in his cool and careless
voice,--
"There is such a mad storm of jealousy raging within me that I am
ready to go with you. Have a care, Polanyetski, lest I explode, like
dynamite."
There was something so amusingly contradictory between the words and
the tone of Bukatski that Pan Stanislav laughed, but after a while he
answered,--
"It had not occurred to me that it is possible to fall in love with
Pani Emilia. Thank thee for the idea."
"Woe to you both!" said Bukatski.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] He had received an inheritance some time before.