Pan Ignas wished the betrothal to be not in the evening before people,
but earlier; and his wish was gratified all the more, since Lineta, who
wished to show herself to people as already betrothed, supported him
before Aunt Bronich. They felt freer thus; and when people began to
assemble they appeared as a young couple. The light of happiness shone
from Lineta. She found a charm in that rôle of betrothed; and the rôle
added charm to her. In her slender form there was something winged. Her
eyelids did not fall to-day sleepily over her eyes; those eyes were
full of light, her lips of smiles, her face was in blushes. She was so
beautiful that Svirski, seeing her, could not refrain from quiet sighs
for the lost paradise, and found calmness for his soul only when he
remembered his favorite song,--
"I am singing and not sobbing,
For I have ceased to love thee too!
Hu-ha-hu!"
For that matter her beauty struck every one that day. Old Zavilovski,
who had himself brought in his chair to the drawing-room, held her
hands and gazed at her for a time; then, looking around at his
daughter, he said,--
"Well, such a Venetian half-devil can turn the head, she can, and
especially the head of a poet, for in the heads of those gentlemen is
fiu, fiu! as people say."
Then he turned to the young man and asked,--
"Well, wilt thou break my neck to-day because I said Venetian
half-devil to thee?"
Pan Ignas laughed, and, bending his head, kissed the old man's
shoulder. "No; I could not break any one's neck to-day."
"Well," said the old man, evidently rejoiced at those marks of honor,
"may God and the Most Holy Lady bless you both! I say the Most Holy
Lady, for her protection is the basis."
When he had said this, he began to search behind in the chair, and,
drawing forth a large jewel-case, said to Lineta,--
"This is from the family of the Zavilovskis; God grant thee to wear it
long!"
Lineta, taking the box, bent her charming figure to kiss him on the
shoulder; he embraced her neck, and said to the bridegroom,--
"But thou might come."
And he kissed both on the forehead, and said, with greater emotion than
he wished to show,--
"Now love and revere each other, like honest people."
Lineta opened the case, in which on a sapphire-colored satin cushion
gleamed a splendid _rivière_ of diamonds. The old man said once more
with emphasis, "From the family of the Zavilovskis," wishing evidently
to show that the young lady who married a Zavilovski, even without
property, was not doing badly. But no one heard him, for the heads of
the ladies--of Lineta, Pani Aneta, Pani Mashko, Pani Bronich and even
Marynia--bent over the flashing stones; and breath was stopped in their
mouths for a time, till at last a murmur of admiration and praise broke
the silence.
"It is not a question of diamonds!" cried Pani Bronich, casting herself
almost into the arms of old Zavilovski, "but as the gift, so the heart."
"Do not mention it Pani; do not mention it!" said the old man, warding
her off.
Now the society broke into pairs or small groups; the betrothed
were so occupied with each other that the whole world vanished from
before them. Osnovski and Svirski went up to Marynia and Pani Bigiel.
Kopovski undertook to entertain the lady of the house; Pan Stanislav
was occupied with Pani Mashko. As to Mashko himself, he was anxious
evidently to make a nearer acquaintance with the Croesus, for he
so fenced him off with his armchair that no one could approach him,
and began then to talk of remote times and the present, which, as he
divined easily, had become a favorite theme for the old man.
But he was too keen-witted to be of Zavilovski's opinion in all things.
Moreover, the old man did not attack recent times always; nay, he
admired them in part. He acknowledged that in many regards they were
moving toward the better; still he could not take them in. But Mashko
explained to him that everything must change on earth; hence nobles, as
well as other strata of society.
"I, respected sir," said he, "hold to the land through a certain
inherited instinct,--through that something which attracts to land the
man who came from it; but, while managing my own property, I am an
advocate, and I am one on principle. We should have our own people in
that department; if we do not, we shall be at the mercy of men coming
from other spheres, and often directly opposed to us. And I must render
our landholders this justice, that for the greater part they understand
this well, and choose to confide their business to me rather than to
others. Some think it even a duty."
"The bar has been filled from our ranks at all times," answered Pan
Zavilovski; "but will the noble succeed in other branches? As God
lives, I cannot tell. I hear, and hear that we ought to undertake
everything; but people forget that to undertake and to succeed are
quite different. Show me the man who has succeeded."
"Here he is, respected sir, Pan Polanyetski: he in a commission house
has made quite a large property; and what he has is in ready cash, so
that he could put it all on the table to-morrow. He will not deny that
my counsels have been of profit to him frequently; but what he has
made, he has made through commerce, mainly in grain."
"Indeed, indeed!" said the old noble, gazing at Pan Stanislav, and
staring from wonder, "has he really made property? Is it possible? Is
he of the real Polanyetskis? That's a good family."
"And that stalwart man with brown hair?"
"Is Svirski the artist."
"I know him, for I saw him abroad; and the Svirskis did not make fires
as an occupation."
"But he can only paint money, for he hasn't made any."
"He hasn't!" said Mashko, in a confidential tone. "Not one big estate
in Podolia will give as much income as aquarelles give him."
"What is that?"
"Pictures in water-colors."
"Is it possible? not even oil paintings! And he too--? Ha! then,
perhaps, my relative will make something at verses. Let him write; let
him write. I will not take it ill of him. Pan Zygmund was a noble, and
he wrote, and not for display. Pan Adam was a noble also; but he is
famous,--more famous than that brawler who has worked with democracy--
What's his name? Never mind! You say that times are changing. Hm, are
they? Let them change for themselves, if only with God's help, for the
better."
"The main thing," said Mashko, "is not to shut up a man's power in his
head, nor capital in chests; whoever does that, simply sins against
society."
"Well, but with permission! How do you understand this,--Am I not free
to close with a key what belongs to me; must I leave my chests open to
a robber?"
Mashko smiled with a shade of loftiness, and, putting his hand on the
arm of the chair, said,--
"That is not the question, respected sir." And then he began to explain
the principles of political economy to Pan Zavilovski; the old noble
listened, nodding his head, and repeating from time to time,--
"Indeed! that is something new! but I managed without it."
Pani Bronich followed the betrothed with eyes full of emotion, and at
the same time told Plavitski (who on his part was following Pani Aneta
with eyes not less full of emotion) about the years of her youth, her
life with Teodor, and the misfortune which met them because of the
untimely arrival in the world of their only descendant, and Plavitski
listened with distraction; but, moved at last by her own narrative, she
said with a somewhat quivering voice,--
"So all my love, hope, and faith are in Lineta. You will understand
this, for you too have a daughter. And as to Lolo, just think what a
blessing that child would have been had he lived, since even dead he
rendered us so much service--"
"Immensely touching, immensely touching!" interrupted Plavitski.
"Oh, it is true," continued Pani Bronich. "How often in harvest time
did my husband run with the cry, 'Lolo monte!' and send out all his
laboring men to the field. With others, wheat sprouted in the shocks,
with us, never. Oh, true! And the loss was the greater in this, that
that was our last hope. My husband was a man in years, and I can say
that for me he was the best of protectors; but after this misfortune,
only a protector."
"Here I cease to understand him," said Plavitski. "Ha, ha! I fail
altogether to understand him."
And, opening his mouth, he looked roguishly at Pani Bronich; she
slapped him lightly with her fan, and said,--
"These men are detestable; for them there is nothing sacred."
"Who is that, a real Perugino,--that pale lady, with whom your husband
is talking?" asked Svirski now of Marynia.
"An acquaintance of ours, Pani Mashko. Have you not been presented to
her?"
"Yes; I became acquainted with her yesterday at the funeral, but forget
her name. I know that she is the wife of that gentleman who is talking
with old Pan Zavilovski. A pure Vannuci! The same quietism, and a
little yellowish; but she has very beautiful lines in her form."
And looking a little longer he added,--
"A quenched face, but uncommon lines in the whole figure. As it were
slender; look at the outline of her arms and shoulders."
But Marynia was not looking at the outlines of the arms and shoulders
of Pani Mashko, but at her husband; and on her face alarm was reflected
on a sudden. Pan Stanislav was just inclining toward Pani Mashko and
telling her something which Marynia could not hear, for they were
sitting at a distance; but it seemed to her that at times he gazed
into that quenched face and those pale eyes with the same kind of look
with which during their journey after marriage he had gazed at her
sometimes. Ah, she knew that look! And her heart began now to beat,
as if feeling some great danger. But immediately she said to herself,
"That cannot be! That would be unworthy of Stas." Still she could not
refrain from looking at them. Pan Stanislav was telling something very
vivaciously, which Pani Mashko listened to with her usual indifference.
Marynia thought again: "Something only seemed to me! He is speaking
vivaciously as usual, but nothing more." The remnant of her doubt was
destroyed by Svirski, who, either because he noticed her alarm and
inquiring glance, or because he did not notice the expression on Pan
Stanislav's face, said,--
"With all this she says nothing. Your husband must keep up the
conversation, and he looks at once weary and angry."
Marynia's face grew radiant in one instant. "Oh, you are right! Stas is
annoyed a little, surely; and the moment he is annoyed he is angry."
And she fell into perfect good-humor. She would have been glad to give
a _rivière_ of diamonds, like that which Pan Zavilovski had brought
to Lineta, to make "Stas" approach at that moment, to say something
herself to him, and hear a kind word from him. In fact, a few minutes
later her wish was accomplished, for Osnovski approached Pani Mashko;
Pan Stanislav rose, and, saying a word or two on the way to Pani Aneta,
who was talking to Kopovski, sat down at last by his wife.
"Dost wish to tell me something?" he inquired.
"How wonderful it is, Stas, for I called to thee that moment, but only
in mind; still thou hast felt and art here with me."
"See what a husband I am," answered he, with a smile. "But the reason
is really very simple: I noticed thee looking at me; I was afraid that
something might have happened, and I came."
"I was looking, for I wanted something."
"And I came, for I wanted something. How dost thou feel? Tell the
truth! Perhaps thou hast a wish to go home?"
"No, Stas, as I love thee, I am perfectly comfortable. I was talking
with Pan Svirski of Pani Mashko, and was entertained well."
"I guessed that you were gossiping about her. This artist says himself
that he has an evil tongue."
"On the contrary," answered Svirski, "I was only admiring her form. The
turn for my tongue may come later."
"Oh, that is true," said Pan Stanislav; "Pani Osnovski says that she
has indeed a bad figure, and that is proof that she has a good one.
But, Marynia, I will tell thee something of Pani Osnovski." Here
he bent toward his wife, and whispered, "Knowest what I heard from
Kopovski's lips when I was coming to thee?"
"What was it? Something amusing?"
"Just as one thinks: I heard him say thou to Pani Aneta."
"Stas!"
"As I love thee, he did. He said to her, 'Thou art always so.'"
"Maybe he was quoting some other person's words."
"I don't know. Maybe he was; maybe he wasn't. Besides, they may have
been in love sometime."
"Fi! Be ashamed."
"Say that to them--or rather to Pani Aneta."
Marynia, who knew perfectly well that unfaithfulness exists, but
looking on it rather as some French literary theory,--she had not
even imagined that one might meet such a thing at every step and in
practice,--began to look now at Pani Aneta with wonder, and at the same
time with the immense curiosity with which honest women look at those
who have had boldness to leave the high-road for by-paths. She had too
truthful a nature, however, to believe in evil immediately, and she
did not; and somehow it would not find a place in her head that really
there could be anything between those two, if only because of the
unheard-of stupidity of Kopovski. She noticed, however, that they were
talking with unusual vivacity.
But they, sitting somewhat apart between a great porcelain vase and the
piano, had not only been talking, but arguing for a quarter of an hour.
"I fear that he has heard something," said Pani Aneta, with a certain
alarm, after Pan Stanislav had passed. "Thou art never careful."
"Yes, it is always my fault! But who is forever repeating, 'Be
careful'?"
In this regard both were truly worthy of each other, since he could
foresee nothing because of his dulness, and she was foolhardy to
recklessness. Two persons knew their secret now; others might divine
it. One needed all the infatuation of Osnovski not to infer anything.
But it was on that that she reckoned.
Meanwhile Kopovski looked at Pan Stanislav and said,--
"He has heard nothing."
Then he returned to the conversation which they had begun; but now he
spoke in lower tones and in French,--
"Didst thou love me, thou wouldst be different; but since thou dost not
love, what harm could that be to thee?"
Then he turned on her his wonderful eyes without mind, while she
answered impatiently,--
"Whether I love, or love not, Castelka never! Dost understand? Never!
I would prefer any other to her, though, if thou wert in love with me
really, thou wouldst not think of marriage."
"I would not think of it, if thou wert different."
"Be patient."
"Yes! till death? If I married Castelka, we should then be near really."
"Never! I repeat to thee."
"Well, but why?"
"Thou wouldst not understand it. Besides, Castelka is betrothed; it is
too bad to lose time in discussing this."
"Thou thyself hast commanded me to pay court to her, and now art
casting reproaches. At first I thought of nothing; but afterward she
pleased me,--I do not deny this. She pleases all; and, besides, she is
a good match."
Pani Aneta began to pull at the end of her handkerchief.
"And thou hast the boldness to say to my eyes that she pleased thee,"
said she at last. "Is it I, or she?"
"Thou, but thee I cannot marry; her I could, for I saw well that I
pleased her."
"If thou wert better acquainted with women, thou wouldst be glad that
I did not let it go to marriage. Thou dost not know her. She is just
like a stick, and, besides, is malicious in character. Dost thou not
understand that I told thee to pay court to her out of regard to
people, and to Yozio? Otherwise, how explain thy daily visits?"
"I could understand, wert thou other than thou art."
"Do not oppose me. I have fixed all, as thou seest, to keep thy
portrait from being finished, and give thee a chance to visit Prytulov.
Steftsia Ratkovski, a distant relative of Yozio's, will be there soon.
Dost understand? Thou must pretend that she pleases thee; and I will
talk what I like into Yozio. In this way thou wilt be able to stop
at Prytulov. I have written to Panna Ratkovski already. She is not a
beauty, but agreeable."
"Always pretence, and nothing for it."
"Suppose I should say to thee: Don't come."
"Anetka!"
"Then be patient. I cannot be angry long with thee. But now go thy way.
Amuse Pani Mashko."
And a moment later Pani Aneta was alone. Her eyes followed Kopovski
a while with the remnant of her anger, but also with a certain
tenderness. In the white cravat, with his dark tint of face, he was so
killingly beautiful that she could not gaze at him sufficiently. Lineta
was now the betrothed of another; still the thought seemed unendurable
that that daily rival of hers might possess him, if not as husband, as
lover. Pani Aneta, in telling Kopovski that she would yield him to any
other rather than to Castelka, told the pure truth. That was for her a
question, at once of an immense weakness for that dull Endymion, and a
question of self-love. Her nerves simply could not agree to it. Certain
inclinations of the senses, which she herself looked on as lofty, and
rising from a Grecian nature, but which at the root of the matter were
common, took the place in her of morality and conscience. By virtue of
these inclinations, she fell under the irresistible charm of Kopovski;
but having not only a heated head, but a temperament of fishy coldness,
she preferred, as Pan Ignas divined intuitively, the play with evil to
evil itself. Holding, in her way, to the principle, "If not I, then
no one!" she was ready to push matters to the utmost to prevent the
marriage of Kopovski to Lineta, the more since she saw that Lineta, in
spite of all her "words" about Kopovski, in spite of the irony with
which she had mentioned him and her jests about the man, was also under
the charm of his exceptional beauty; that all those jests were simply
self-provocation, under which was concealed an attraction; and that, in
general, the source of her pleasure and Lineta's was the same. But she
did not observe that, for this reason, she at the bottom of her soul
had contempt for Lineta.
She knew that Lineta, through very vanity, would not oppose her
persuasion, and the homages of a man with a famous name. In this way,
she had retained Kopovski, and, besides, had produced for herself a
splendid spectacle, on which women, who are more eager for impressions
than feelings, look always with greediness. Besides, if that famous Pan
Ignas, when his wife becomes an every-day object, should look somewhere
for a Beatrice, he might find her. Little is denied men who have power
to hand down, to the memory of mankind and the homage of ages, the name
of a loved one. These plans for the future Pani Aneta had not outlined
hitherto expressly; but she had, as it were, a misty feeling that her
triumph would in that case be perfect.
Moreover, she had triumphed even now, for all had gone as she wished.
Still Kopovski made her angry. She had considered him as almost her
property. Meanwhile, she saw that, so far as he was able to understand
anything, he understood this, that the head does not ache from
abundance, and that Aneta might not hinder Lineta. That roused her so
keenly that at moments she was thinking how to torment him in return.
Meanwhile, she was glad that Lineta paraded herself as being in love
really, soul and heart, with Pan Ignas, which for Kopovski was at once
both a riddle and a torture.
These thoughts flew through her head like lightning, and flew all of
them in the short time that she was alone. At last she was interrupted
by the serving of supper. Osnovski, who desired that his wife should
be surrounded by such homage from every one as he himself gave, and to
whom it seemed that what he had said to Pan Ignas about his married
life was very appropriate, had the unhappy thought to repeat at the
first toast the wish that Pan Ignas might be as happy with Lineta as he
with his wife. Hereupon, the eyes of Pan Ignas and Pan Stanislav turned
involuntarily to Pani Osnovski, who looked quickly at Pan Stanislav,
and doubts on both sides disappeared in one instant; that is, she
gained the perfect certainty that Pan Stanislav had heard them, and he,
that Kopovski had not quoted the words of another, but had said _thou_
in direct speech to the lady. Pani Aneta had guessed even that Pan
Stanislav must have spoken of that to Marynia, for she had seen how,
after he had passed, both had talked and looked a certain time at her
with great curiosity. The thought filled her with anger and a desire of
revenge, so that she listened without attention to the further toasts,
which were given by her husband, by Pan Ignas, by Plavitski, and at
last by Pan Bigiel.
But, after supper, it came to her head all at once to arrange
a dancing-party; and "Yozio," obedient as ever to each beck of
hers, and, besides, excited after feasting, supported the thought
enthusiastically. Marynia could not dance, but besides her there were
five youthful ladies,--Lineta, Pani Osnovski, Pani Bigiel, Pani Mashko,
and Panna Zavilovski. The last declared, it is true, that she did not
dance; but, since people said that she neither danced, talked, ate, nor
drank, her refusal did not stop the readiness of others. Osnovski, who
was in splendid feeling, declared that Ignas should take Lineta in his
arms, for surely he had not dared to do so thus far.
It turned out, however, that Pan Ignas could not avail himself of Pan
Osnovski's friendly wishes, for he had never danced in his life, and
had not the least knowledge of dancing, which not only astonished Pani
Bronich and Lineta, but offended them somewhat. Kopovski, on the other
hand, possessed this art in a high degree; hence he began the dance
with Lineta, as the heroine of the evening. They were a splendid pair,
and eyes followed them involuntarily. Pan Ignas was forced to see her
golden head incline toward Kopovski's shoulder, to see their bosoms
near each other, to see both whirling to the time of Bigiel's waltz,
joined in the harmony of movement, blending, as it were, into one tune
and one unity. Even from looking at all this, he grew angry, for he
understood that there was a thing which he did not know, which would
connect Lineta with others and disconnect her with him. Besides, people
about him mentioned the beauty of the dancing couple; and Svirski,
sitting near him, said,--
"What a beautiful man! If there were male houris, as there are female,
he might be a houri in a Mussulman paradise for women."
They waltzed long; and there was in the tones of the music, as in
their movements, something, as it were, intoxicating, a kind of dizzy
faintness, which incensed Pan Ignas still more, for he recalled Byron's
verses on waltzing,--verses as cynical as they are truthful. At last,
he said to himself, with complete impatience: "When will that ass let
her go?" He feared, too, that Kopovski might tire her too much.
The "ass" let her go at last at the other end of the hall, and
straightway took Pani Aneta. But Lineta ran up to her betrothed, and,
sitting down at his side, said,--
"He dances well, but he likes to exhibit his skill, for he has nothing
else. He kept me too long. I have lost breath a little, and my heart is
beating. If you could put your hand there and feel how it beats--but it
is not proper to do so. How wonderful, too, for it is your property."
"My property!" said Pan Ignas, holding out his hand to her. "Do not say
'your' to me to-day, Lineta."
"Thy property," she whispered, and she did not ward off his hand, she
only let it drop down a little on her robe, so that people might not
notice it.
"I was jealous of him," said Pan Ignas, pressing her fingers
passionately.
"Dost wish I will dance no more to-day? I like to dance, but I prefer
to be near thee."
"My worshipped one!"
"I am a stupid society girl, but I want to be worthy of thee. As thou
seest, I love music greatly,--even waltzes and polkas. Somehow they
act on me wonderfully. How well this Pan Bigiel plays! But I know that
there are things higher than waltzes. Hold my handkerchief, and drop my
hand for a moment. It is thy hand, but I must arrange my hair. It is
time to dance; to dance is not wrong, is it? But if thou wish, I will
not dance, for I am an obedient creature. I will learn to read in thy
eyes, and afterward shall be like water, which reflects both clouds and
clear weather. So pleasant is it for me near thee! See how perfectly
those people dance!"
Words failed Pan Ignas; only in one way could he have shown what he
felt,--by kneeling before her. But she pointed out Pan Stanislav, who
was dancing with Pani Mashko, and admired them heartily.
"Really he dances better than Pan Kopovski," said she, with gleaming
eyes; "and she, how graceful! Oh, I should like to dance even once with
him--if thou permit."
Pan Ignas, in whom Pan Stanislav did not rouse the least jealousy,
said,--
"My treasure, as often as may please thee. I will send him at once to
thee."
"Oh, how perfectly he dances! how perfectly! And this waltz, it is like
some delightful shiver. They are sailing, not dancing."
Of this opinion, too, was Marynia, who, following the couple with her
eyes, experienced a still greater feeling of bitterness than Pan Ignas
a little while earlier; for it seemed a number of times to her that Pan
Stanislav had looked again on Pani Mashko with that expression with
which he had looked when Svirski supposed that either he was annoyed,
or was angry. But now such a supposition was impossible. At moments
both dancers passed near her; and then she saw distinctly how his arm
embraced firmly Pani Mashko's waist, how his breath swept around her
neck, how his nostrils were dilated, how his glances slipped over her
naked bosom. That might be invisible for others, but not for Marynia,
who could read in his face as in a book. And all at once the light of
the lamps became dark in her eyes; she understood that it was one thing
not to be happy, and another to be unhappy. This lasted briefly,--as
briefly as one tact of the waltz, or one instant in which a heart that
is straitened ceases to beat; but it sufficed for the feeling that
life in the future might be embroiled, and present love changed into
a bitter and contemptuous sorrow. And that feeling filled her with
terror. Before her was drawn aside, as it were, a curtain, behind which
appeared unexpectedly all the sham of life, all the wretchedness and
meanness of human nature. Nothing had happened yet, absolutely nothing;
but a vision came to Marynia, in which she saw that there might be a
time when her confidence in her husband would vanish like smoke.
She tried, however, to ward away doubts; she wished to talk into
herself that he was under the influence of the dance, not of his
partner; she preferred not to believe her eyes. Shame seized her for
that "Stas" of whom she had been so proud up to that time; and she
struggled with all her strength against that feeling, understanding
that it was a question of enormous importance, and that from that
little thing, and from that fault of his, hitherto almost nothing,
might flow results which would act on their whole future.
At that moment was heard near her the jesting voice of Pani Aneta.
"Ah, Marynia, nature has created, as it were, purposely, thy husband
and Pani Mashko to waltz with each other. What a pair!"
"Yes," answered Marynia, with an effort.
And Pani Aneta twittered on: "Perfectly fitted for each other. It is
true that in thy place I should be a little jealous; but thou, art
thou jealous? No? I am outspoken, and confess freely that I should be;
at least, it was so with me once. I know, for that matter, that Yozio
loves me; but these men, even while loving, have their little fancies.
Their heads do not ache the least on that score; and that our hearts
ache, they do not see, or do not wish to see. The best of them are not
different. Yozio? true! he is a model husband; and dost thou think that
I do not know him? Now, when I have grown used to him, laughter seizes
me often, for they are all so awkward! I know the minute that Yozio is
beginning to be giddy; and knowest thou what my sign is?"
Marynia was looking continually at her husband, who had ceased now to
dance with Pani Mashko, and had taken Lineta. She felt great relief all
at once, for it seemed to her that "Stas," while dancing with Lineta,
had the same expression of face. Her suspicions began to fade; and she
thought at once that she had judged him unjustly, that she herself was
not good. She had never seen him dancing before; and the thought came
to her head that perhaps he danced that way always.
Then Pani Aneta repeated, "Dost know how I discover when Yozio is
beginning to play pranks?"
"How?" inquired Marynia, with more liveliness.
"I will teach thee the method. Here it is: the moment he has an unclean
conscience, he puts suspicion on others, and shares these suspicions
with me, so as to turn attention from himself. Dear Yozio! that is
their method. How they lie, even the best of them!"
When she had said this, she went away, with the conviction that on the
society chessboard she had made a very clever move; and it was clever.
In Marynia's head a kind of chaos now rose; she knew not what to think
at last of all this. Great physical weariness seized her also. "I am
not well," said she to herself; "I am excited, and God knows what
may seem to me." And the feeling of weariness increased in her every
moment. That whole evening seemed a fever dream. Pan Stanislav had
mentioned Pani Aneta as a faith-breaking woman; Pani Aneta had said the
same of all husbands. Pan Stanislav had been looking with dishonest
eyes on Pani Mashko, and Pani Aneta had said _thou_ to Kopovski. To
this was added the dancing couples, the monotonous tact of the waltz,
the heads of the lovers, and finally, a storm, which was heard out of
doors. What a mixture of impressions! what a phantasmagoria! "I am not
well," repeated Marynia in her mind. But she felt also that peace was
leaving her, and that this was the unhappy evening of her life. She
wished greatly to go home, but, as if to spite her, there was a pouring
rain. "Let us go home! let us go home!" If "Stas" should say some good
and cordial word besides. Let him only not speak of Pani Aneta or Pani
Mashko; let him speak of something that related to him and her, and was
dear to them.
"Oh, how tired I am!"
At that moment Pan Stanislav came to her; and at sight of her poor,
pale face, he felt a sudden sympathy, to which his heart, kind in
itself, yielded easily.
"My poor dear," said he, "it is time for thee to go to bed; only let
the rain pass a little. Thou art not afraid of thunder?"
"No; sit near me."
"The summer shower will pass soon. How sleepy thou art!"
"Perhaps I ought not to have come, Stas. I have great need of rest."
He had a conscience which was not too clear, and was angry at himself.
But it had not come to his mind that what she was saying of rest might
relate to him and his attempts and conduct with Pani Mashko; but he
felt all at once that if she had suspected, her peace would be ruined
forever through his fault, and since he was not a spoiled man, fear and
compunction possessed him.
"To the deuce with all dances!" said he. "I will stay at home, and take
care of that which belongs to me."
And he said this so sincerely that a shadow of doubt could not pass
through her head, for she knew him perfectly. Hence a feeling of
immense relief came upon her.
"When thou art with me," said she, "I feel less tired right away. A
moment ago I felt ill somehow. Aneta sat near me; but what can I care
for her? When out of health, one needs a person who is near, who is
one's own, and reliable. Perhaps thou wilt scold me for what I say,
since it is strange to say such things at a party, among strangers,
and so long after marriage. I understand myself that it is somewhat
strange; but I need thee really, for I love thee much."
"And I love thee, dear being," answered Pan Stanislav, who felt then
that love for her could alone be honest and peaceful.
Meanwhile the rain decreased; but there was lightning yet, so that
the windows of the villa were bright blue every moment. Bigiel, who,
after the dancing, had played a prelude of Chopin's, was talking now
with Lineta and Pan Ignas about music, and, defending his idea firmly,
said,--
"That Bukatski invented various kinds and types of women; and I have my
musical criterion. There are women who love music with their souls, and
there are others who love it with their skin,--these last I fear."
A quarter of an hour later the short summer storm had passed by, and
the sky had cleared perfectly; the guests began to prepare for home.
But Zavilovski remained longer than others, so that he might be the
last to say good-night to Lineta.
Out of fear for Marynia, Pan Stanislav gave command to drive the
carriage at a walk. The picture of her husband dancing with Pani
Mashko was moving in her tortured, head continually. Pani Aneta's
words, "Oh, how they lie! even the best of them," were sounding in her
ears. But Pan Stanislav supported her meanwhile with his arm, and
held her resting against him during the whole way; hence her disquiet
disappeared gradually. She wished from her soul to put some kind of
question to him, from which he might suspect her fears and pacify her.
But after a while she thought: "If he did not love me, he would not
show anxiety; he could be cruel more readily than pretend. I will not
ask him to-day about anything." Pan Stanislav, on his part, evidently
under the influence of the thought which moved in his head, and
under the impression that she alone might be his right love and true
happiness, bent down and kissed her face lightly.
"I will not ask him about anything to-morrow either," thought Marynia,
resting her head on his shoulder. And after a while she thought again,
"I will never tell him anything." And fatigue, both physical and
mental, began to overpower her, so that before they reached home her
eyes were closed, and she had fallen asleep on his arm.
Pani Bronich was sitting, meanwhile, in the drawing-room, looking
toward the glass door of the balcony, to which the betrothed had
gone out for a moment to breathe the air freshened by rain, and say
good-night to each other without witnesses. After the storm the night
had become very clear, giving out the odor of wet leaves; it was full
of stars, which were as if they had bathed in the rain, and were
smiling through tears. The two young people stood some time in silence,
and then began to say that they loved each other with all their souls;
and at last Pan Ignas stretched forth his hand, on which a ring was
glittering, and said,--
"My greatly beloved! I look at this ring, and cannot look at it
sufficiently. To this moment it has seemed to me that all this is a
dream, and only now do I dare to think that thou wilt be mine really."
Then Lineta placed the palm of her hand on his, so that the two rings
were side by side; and she said, with a voice of dreamy exaltation,--
"Yes; the former Lineta is no longer in existence, only thy betrothed.
Now we must belong with our whole lives to each other; and it is a
marvel to me that there should be such power in these little rings, as
if something holy were in them."
Pan Ignas's heart was overflowing with happiness, calm, and sweetness.
"Yes," said he; "for in the ring is the soul, which yields itself,
and in return receives another. In such a golden promise is ingrafted
everything which in a man says, 'I wish, I love, and promise.'"
Lineta repeated like a faint echo, "I wish, I love, and promise."
Next he embraced her and held her long at his breast, and then began to
take farewell. But, borne away by the might of love and the impulse of
his soul, he made of that farewell a sort of religious act of adoration
and honor. So he gave good-night to those blessed hands which had given
him so much happiness, and good-night to that heart which loved him,
and good-night to the lips which had confessed love, and good-night to
the clear eyes through which mutuality gazed forth at the poet; and at
last the soul went out of him, and changed itself, as it were, into a
shining circle, around that head which was dearest in the world and
worshipped.
"Good-night!"
After a while Pani Bronich and Lineta were alone in the drawing-room.
"Art wearied, child?" inquired Pani Bronich, looking at Lineta's face,
which was as if roused from sleep.
And Lineta answered,--
"Ah, aunt, I am returning from the stars, and that's such a long
journey."