During some days that succeeded the choking, Litka was not ill, but
she felt weak; she went out, however, to walk, because the doctor not
only ordered her to go, but recommended very urgently moderate exercise
up hill. Vaskovski went to the doctor to learn the condition of her
health. Pan Stanislav awaited the old man's return in the reading-room,
and knew at once from his face that he was not a bearer of good tidings.
"The doctor sees no immediate danger," said Vaskovski; "but he condemns
the child to an early death, and in general gives directions to watch
over her, for it is impossible, he says, to foresee the day or the
hour."
"What a misfortune, what a blow!" said Pan Stanislav, covering his eyes
with his hand. "Her mother will not be able to survive her. One is
unwilling to believe in the death of such a child."
Vaskovski had tears in his eyes. "I asked whether she must suffer
greatly. 'Not necessarily,' said the doctor; 'she may die as easily as
if falling asleep.'"
"Did he tell the mother anything about her condition?"
"He did not. He said, it is true, that there was a defect of the heart;
but he added that with children such things often disappear without a
trace. He has no hope himself."
Pan Stanislav did not yield to misfortune easily.
"What is one doctor!" said he. "We must struggle to save the child
while there is a spark of hope. The doctor may be mistaken. We must
take her to a specialist at Monachium, or bring him here. That will
alarm Pani Emilia, but it is difficult to avoid it. Wait; we can avoid
it. I will bring him, and that immediately. We will tell Pani Emilia
that such and such a celebrated doctor has come here to see some one,
and that there is a chance of taking counsel concerning Litka. We must
not leave the child without aid. We need merely to write to him, so
that he may know how to talk to the mother."
"But to whom will you write?"
"To whom? Do I know? The local doctor here will indicate a specialist.
Let us go to him at once, and lose no time."
The matter was arranged that very day. In the evening the two men went
to Pani Emilia. Litka was well, but silent and gloomy. She smiled,
it is true, at her mother and her friend; she showed gratitude for
the tenderness with which they surrounded her; but Pan Stanislav had
not power to amuse her. Having his head filled with thoughts of the
danger which threatened the child, he considered her gloom a sign of
increasing sickness and an early premonition of near death, and with
terror he said in his soul that she was not such as she had been; it
seemed as if certain threads binding her to life had been broken. His
fear increased still more when Pani Emilia said,--
"Litka feels well, but do you know what she begged of me to-day? To go
back to Warsaw."
Pan Stanislav with an effort of will put down his alarm, and, turning
to the little one, said while feigning joyfulness,--
"Ah, thou good-for-nothing! Art thou not sorry for Thumsee?"
The little maid shook her yellow hair.
"No!" answered she, after a time, and in her eyes tears appeared; but
she covered these quickly with her lids, lest some one might see them.
"What is the matter with her?" thought Pan Stanislav.
A very simple thing was the matter. In Thumsee she had learned that her
friend, her "Pan Stas," her dearest comrade, was to be taken from her.
She had heard that he loved Marynia Plavitski; until then she had felt
sure that he loved only her and mamma. She had heard that mamma wanted
him to marry Marynia; but up to that time she, Litka, had looked on him
as her own exclusive property. Without knowing clearly what threatened
her, she felt that this "Pan Stas" would go, and that a wrong would
be done her, the first which she had experienced in life. She would
have suffered less if some one else had inflicted the wrong; but,
just think, her mamma and "Pan Stas" were wronging her! That seemed a
vicious circle out of which the child knew not how to escape and could
not. How could she complain to them of what they were doing! Evidently
they wanted this, wished it; it was necessary for them, and they
would be happy if it happened. Mamma said that "Pan Stas" loved Panna
Marynia, and he did not deny; therefore Litka must yield, must swallow
her tears, and be silent in presence of her mamma even.
And she hid in herself her first disappointment in life. Yes, she had
to yield; but because grief is a bad medicine for a heart sick already,
this yielding might be more thoroughly and terribly tragic than any one
around her could imagine.
The specialist came two days later from Monachium, and remaining two
days, confirmed fully the opinion of the doctor in Thumsee. He set Pani
Emilia at rest, though he told Pan Stanislav that the life of the child
might continue months and years, but would be always as if hanging on
a thread which might break from any cause. He gave directions to spare
the little girl every emotion, as well joyous as sad, and to watch over
her with the greatest alertness.
They surrounded her therefore with care and attention. They spared her
even the slightest emotion, but they did not spare her the greatest,
which was caused by Marynia's letters. The echo of the one which came a
week later struck her ears, which were listening then diligently. True,
it might dispel her fears touching "Pan Stas," but it was a great shock
to her. Pani Emilia had hesitated all day about showing Pan Stanislav
that letter. He had been asking daily for news from Kremen; she had
to lie simply to conceal the arrival of the letter. Finally, she felt
bound to tell the truth, so that he might know the difficulties which
he had to encounter.
The next evening after receiving the letter, when she had put Litka to
sleep, she began conversation herself on this subject.
"Marynia has taken it greatly to heart that you sold the claim on
Kremen."
"Then you have received a letter?"
"I have."
"Can you show it to me?"
"No; I can only read you extracts from it. Marynia is crushed."
"Does she know that I am here?"
"It must be that she has not received my letter yet; but it astonishes
me that Pan Mashko, who is in Kremen, has not mentioned it to her."
"Mashko went to Kremen before I left Warsaw; and he was not sure that
I would come here, especially as I told him that doubtless I should
change my plan."
Pani Emilia went to her bureau for the package of letters. Returning to
the table, she trimmed the lamp, and, sitting opposite Pan Stanislav,
took the letter from the envelope.
"You see," said she, "that for Marynia it is not a question of the sale
alone. You know that her head was a little imaginative, therefore this
sale had for her another meaning. A great disenchantment has met her
indeed!"
"I should not confess to any other person," said Pan Stanislav, "but I
will to you. I have committed one of the greatest follies of my life,
but I have never been so punished."
Pani Emilia raised her pale blue eyes to him with sympathy.
"Poor man, are you so captivated, then, by Marynia? I do not ask
through curiosity, but friendship, for I should like to mend
everything, but wish to be certain."
"Do you know what conquered me?" broke in Pan Stanislav,
excitedly,--"that first letter. In Kremen she pleased me; I began to
think about her. I said to myself that she would be more agreeable and
better than others. She is such precisely as I have been seeking. But
what next? Long before, I had said to myself that I would not be a
soft man, and yield what belongs to me. You understand that when a man
makes a principle of anything, he holds to it even for pride's sake.
Besides, in each one of us there are, as it were, two distinct persons;
the second of these criticises whatever is done by the first one. This
second man began to say to me: 'Drop this affair; you cannot live
with the father.' In truth, he is unendurable. I resolved to drop the
affair. I got rid of the claim. That is how it happened. Only later did
I find that I could not dismiss the thought of Panna Plavitski; I had
always this same impression: 'She is such as thou art seeking.' I saw
that I had committed a folly, and was sorry. When that letter came, and
I convinced myself that on her side there was a feeling that she could
love me and be mine, I loved her. And I give you my word that either
I am losing my head, or this is true. It is nothing while a man is
fancying something; but when he sees that there were open arms before
him, what a difference! That letter conquered me; I cannot help myself."
"I prefer not to read you all this letter," said Pani Emilia, after a
while. "Naturally she writes that the brief dream ended by an awakening
more sudden than she had looked for. She writes that Pan Mashko is very
considerate in money questions, though he wishes them to turn to his
profit."
"She will marry him, as God is in heaven!"
"You do not know her. But of Kremen she writes: 'Papa has a wish to
dispose of his property, and settle in Warsaw. Thou knowest how I love
Kremen, how I grew up with it; but in view of what has happened, I
doubt whether my work can be of service. I shall make one more struggle
to defend the dear bit of land. Still papa says that his conscience
will not let him imprison me in the country, and this is all the more
bitter, since it is as if I were the question. Indeed, life seems at
times to be touching on irony. Pan Mashko offers papa three thousand
life annuity, and the whole amount for the parcelling of Magyerovka. I
do not wonder that he seeks his own profit, but through such a bargain
he would get the property for almost nothing. Papa himself said to
him, "In this way, if I live one year I shall get from Kremen three
thousand, for Magyerovka is mine anyhow." Pan Mashko answered that
in the present state of affairs the creditors would take the money
for Magyerovka; but if papa agrees to the conditions proposed he will
receive ready money and may live thirty years, perhaps longer. Which is
true also. I know that this project pleases papa in principle; the only
question with him is to get as much as he can. In all this there is one
consolation,--that if we live in Warsaw, I shall see thee, dear Emilia,
and Litka oftener. Sincerely and from my whole soul do I love you both,
and know that on your hearts at least I can count always.'"
"So then I deprived her of Kremen, but sent her a suitor," said Pan
Stanislav, after a moment of silence.
While saying this, he did not know that Marynia had put almost the same
words into the letter. Pani Emilia had omitted them purposely, not
wishing to wound him.
During the last visit of the Plavitskis in Warsaw, Mashko had made
some advances for the hand of Marynia; she had no need, therefore, of
great keenness to divine his reason for buying the claim and coming to
Kremen. Just in this was the bitterness that filled her heart, and the
deep offence which she felt that Polanyetski had inflicted on her.
"It is absolutely needful to explain all this," said Pani Emilia.
"I have sent her a suitor!" repeated Pan Stanislav. "I cannot even make
the excuse that I did not know of Mashko's designs."
Pani Emilia turned Marynia's letter in her delicate fingers some time,
and then said suddenly,--
"It cannot rest this way. I wanted to unite you with her because of my
friendship for both of you, but now there is a motive the more; to wit,
your suffering. It would be a reproach for me to leave you as you are,
and I cannot. Do not lose hope. There is a pretty French proverb, and a
very ugly Polish one, about woman's strength and will. In truth, I wish
greatly to help you."
Pan Stanislav seized her hand and raised it to his lips.
"You are the best and most honorable person that I have met in the
world."
"I have been very happy," answered Pani Emilia; "and since I think that
there is only one road to happiness, I wish those who are near me to go
by it."
"You are right. That road, or none! Since I have life, I wish that life
to be of use to some one else and to me."
"As to me," said Pani Emilia, laughing, "since I have undertaken the
rôle of matchmaker for the first time in life, I wish to be of service.
But it is necessary to think what must be done now."
Saying this, she raised her eyes. The light of the lamp fell directly
on her delicate face, which was still very youthful; on her light hair,
which was somewhat disarranged above her forehead. There was something
in her so bewitching and at the same time so virginal that Pan
Stanislav, though he had a head occupied with other things, recalled
the name, "maiden widow," which Bukatski had given her.
"Marynia is very candid," said she, after a moment's thought, "and will
understand better if I write the pure truth to her. I will tell her
what you told me: that you went away much pleased with her; that what
you have done was done without reckoning with yourself, purely under
the influence of the thought that you could not come to an agreement
with her father; but at present you regret this most sincerely, you beg
her not to take it ill, and not to take away the hope that she will
yield to entreaty."
"And I will write to Mashko that I will purchase the debt of him at
whatever profit he likes."
"See," said Pani Emilia, smiling, "that sober, calculating Pan
Stanislav, who boasts that he has freed himself from the Polish
character and from Polish fickleness."
"Yes, yes!" cried Pan Stanislav, with a more joyous tone. "Calculation
consists in this, to spare nothing on an object that is worth it." At
that moment, however, he grew gloomy and said, "But if she answers that
she is Mashko's betrothed?"
"I will not admit that. Pan Mashko may be the most honorable of men,
but he is not for her. She will not marry without affection. I know
that Mashko did not please her at all. That will never take place; you
do not know Marynia. Only do, on your part, what you can, and be at
rest as to Mashko."
"Then, instead of writing, I will telegraph to him to-day. He cannot
stop in Kremen long at one time, and must receive my despatch in
Warsaw."