But poor Litka, after a new attack, which was more terrible than any
preceding it, could not recover. She spent days now lying on a long
chair in the drawing-room; for at her request the doctor and Pani
Emilia had agreed not to keep her in bed the whole time. She liked
also to have Pan Stanislav sitting near her; and she spoke to him
and her mother about everything that passed through her mind. With
Marynia she was silent usually; but at times she looked at her long,
and then raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if wishing to think out
a thought, and give herself an account of something. More than once
these meditations took place when she was left alone with her mother.
On a certain afternoon she woke as if from a dream, and turning to her
mother, said,--
"Mamma, sit near me here on the sofa."
Pani Emilia sat down; the child put her arms around her neck, and,
resting her head on her shoulder, began to speak in a caressing voice,
which was somewhat enfeebled.
"I wanted to ask mamma one thing, but I do not know how to ask it."
"What is thy wish, my dear child?"
Litka was silent a moment, collecting her thoughts; then she said,--
"If we love some one, mamma, what is it?"
"If we love some one, Litus?"
Pani Emilia repeated the question, not understanding well at first what
the little girl was asking, but she did not know how to inquire more
precisely.
"Then what is it, mamma?"
"It is this,--we wish that one to be well, just as I wish thee to be
well."
"And what more?"
"And we want that person to be happy, want it to be pleasant in the
world for that person, and are glad to suffer for that person when in
trouble."
"And what more?"
"To have that one always with us, as thou art with me; and we want that
one to love us, as thou lovest me."
"I understand now," said Litka, after a moment's thought; "and I think
myself that that is true,--that it is that way."
"How, kitten?"
"See, mamma, when I was in Reichenhall, mamma remembers? at Thumsee I
heard that Pan Stas loves Panna Marynia; and now I know that he must be
unhappy, though he never says so."
Pani Emilia, fearing emotion for Litka, said,--
"Does not this talk make thee tired, kitten?"
"Oh, no, not a bit, not a bit! I understand now: he wants her to love
him, and she does not love him; and he wants her to be near him always,
but she lives with her father, and she will not marry him."
"Marry him?"
"Marry him. And he is suffering from that, mamma; isn't it true?"
"True, my child."
"Yes, I know all that; and she would marry him if she loved him?"
"Certainly, kitten; he is such a kind man."
"Now I know."
The little girl closed her eyes, and Pani Emilia thought for a while
that she was sleeping; but after a time she began to inquire again,--
"And if he married Marynia, would he cease to love us?"
"No, Litus; he would love us always just the same."
"But would he love Marynia?"
"Marynia would be nearer to him than we. Why dost thou ask about this
so, thou kitten?"
"Is it wrong?"
"No, there is nothing wrong in it, nothing at all; only I am afraid
that thou wilt weary thyself."
"Oh, no! I am always thinking of Pan Stas anyhow. But mamma mustn't
tell Marynia about this."
With these words ended the conversation, after which Litka held silence
for a number of days, only she looked more persistently than before at
Marynia. Sometimes she took her hand and turned her eyes to the young
woman, as if wishing to ask something. Sometimes when Marynia and Pan
Stanislav were near by, she gazed now on her, now on him, and then
closed her lids. Often they came daily, sometimes a number of times
in the day, wishing to relieve Pani Emilia, who permitted no one to
take her place in the night at Litka's bedside; for a week she had
been without rest at night, sleeping only a little in the day, when
Litka herself begged her to do so. Still Pani Emilia was not conscious
of the whole danger which threatened the little girl; for the doctor,
not knowing what that crisis of the disease would be, whether a step
in advance merely, or the end, pacified the mother the more decisively
because Pan Stanislav begged him most urgently to do so.
She had a feeling, however, that Litka's condition was not favorable,
and, in spite of assurances from the doctor, her heart sank more than
once from alarm. But to Litka she showed always a smiling and joyous
face, just as did Pan Stanislav and Marynia; but the little girl had
learned already to observe everything, and Pani Emilia's most carefully
concealed alarm did not escape her.
Therefore on a certain morning, when there was no one in her room but
Pan Stanislav, who was occupied with inflating for her a great globe of
silk, which he had brought as a present, the little girl said,--
"Pan Stas, I see sometimes that mamma is very anxious because I am
sick."
He stopped inflating the globe, and answered,--
"Ai! she doesn't dream of it. What is working under thy hair? But it is
natural for her to be anxious; she would rather have thee well."
"Why are all other children well, and I alone always sick?"
"Nicely well! Weren't the Bigiel children sick, one after another, with
whooping-cough? For whole months the house was like a sheepfold. And
didn't Yozio have the measles? All children are eternally sick, and
that is the one pleasure with them."
"Pan Stas only talks that way, for children are sick and get well
again." Here she began to shake her head. "No; that is something
different. And now I must lie this way all the time, for if I get up my
heart beats right away; and the day before yesterday, when they began
to sing on the street, and mamma wasn't in the room, I went to the
window a little while, and saw a funeral. I thought, 'I, too, shall die
surely.'"
"Nonsense, Litus!" cried Pan Stanislav; and he began to inflate the
globe quickly to hide his emotion, and to show the child how little
her words meant. But she went on with her thought,--
"It is so stifling for me sometimes, and my heart beats so--mamma
told me to say then 'Under Thy protection,' and I say it always, for
I am terribly afraid to die! I know that it is nice in heaven, but
I shouldn't be with mamma, only alone in the graveyard; yes, in the
night."
Pan Stanislav laid down the globe suddenly, sat near the long chair,
and, taking Litka's hand, said,--
"My Litus, if thou love mamma, if thou love me, do not think of such
things. Nothing will happen to thee; but thy mother would suffer if she
knew what her little girl's head is filled with. Remember that thou art
hurting thyself in this way."
Litka joined her hands: "My Pan Stas, I ask only one thing, not more."
He bent his head down to her: "Well, ask, kitten, only something
sensible."
"Would Pan Stas be very sorry for me?"
"Ah! but see what a bad girl!"
"My Pan Stas, tell me."
"I? what an evil child, Litus! Know that I love thee, love thee
immensely. God preserve us! there is no one in the world that I should
be so sorry for. But be quiet at least for me, thou suffering fly! thou
dearest creature!"
"I will be quiet, kind Pan Stas."
And in the moment when Pani Emilia came, and he was preparing to go,
she asked,--
"And Pan Stas is not angry with me?"
"No, Litus," answered Pan Stanislav.
When he had gone to the antechamber he heard a light knocking at the
door; Pani Emilia had given orders to remove the bell. He opened it and
saw Marynia, who came ordinarily in the evening. When she had greeted
him, she asked,--
"How is Litka to-day?"
"As usual."
"Has the doctor been here?"
"Yes. He found nothing new. Let me help you!"
Saying this, he wished to take her cloak, but she was unwilling to
accept his services, and refused. Having his heart full of the previous
talk with Litka, he attacked her most unexpectedly,--
"What I offer you is simple politeness, nothing more; and even if it
were something more, you might leave your repugnance to me outside
this threshold, for inside is a sick child, whom not only I, but you,
profess to love. Your response lacks not merely kindness, but even
courtesy. I would take in the same way the cloak of any other woman,
and know that at present I am thinking of Litka, and of nothing else."
He spoke with great passionateness, so that, attacked suddenly, Marynia
was a little frightened; indeed, she lost her head somewhat, so that
obediently she let her cloak be taken from her, and not only did not
find in herself the force to be offended, but she felt that a man
sincerely and deeply affected by alarm and suffering might talk so,
therefore a man who was really full of feeling and was good at heart.
Perhaps, too, that unexpected energy of his spoke to her feminine
nature; it is enough that Pan Stanislav gained on her more in that
moment than at any time since their meeting at Kremen, and never till
then was she so strongly reminded of that active young man whom she had
conducted once through the garden. The impression, it is true, was a
mere passing one, which could not decide their mutual relations; but
she raised at once on him her eyes, somewhat astonished, but not angry,
and said,--
"I beg your pardon."
He had calmed himself, and was abashed now.
"No; I beg pardon of you. Just now Litka spoke of her death to me, and
I am so excited that I cannot control myself; pray understand this, and
forgive me."
Then he pressed her hand firmly, and went home.