"My dear Pan Ignas, why do you not dress like Pan Kopovski?" asked Pani
Bronich. "Naturally, Nitechka values your poetry more than all costumes
on earth; but you will not believe how æsthetic that child is, and
what perfect knowledge she has in such matters. Yesterday, the poor
dear came to me with such a pretty face that if you had seen her you
would have melted. 'Aunt,' said she, 'why does Pan Ignas not have white
flannel costumes in the morning? It is so elegant for all gentlemen to
be in such costumes.' Have something like that made; she will be so
glad. You see that Yozio Osnovski too has a flannel suit; he has even
a number of them, through attention to Aneta. These are little things,
I know; but they affect a woman greatly when she considers what they
mean. You have no idea how she sees everything. In Scheveningen all
wear such costumes till midday; and it would be disagreeable to her if
any one should think that you did not belong to society which knows how
to dress. You are so kind, you will buy such a costume; will you not?
You will do that for her; and you will not take it ill of me that I
speak of what Nitechka likes?"
"Oh," said Pan Ignas, "I'll do so, most willingly."
"How good you are! But, what else did I wish to say? Oh, yes!--and a
nice yellow-leather travelling-case. My dear Pan Ignas, Nitechka loves
immensely nice travelling-cases; and abroad, as a man looks, so is he
valued. Yesterday--I will tell you this as a secret--we looked at Pan
Kopovski's travelling-case. It is very nice, and in perfect taste,
bought in Dresden. It pleased Nitechka much. Look at it, and buy one
something in that style. I beg pardon of you for entering into this
matter, but this is a trifle. You see, I know women in general, and I
know Nitechka. There is no better way with her than to yield in little
things. When it comes to great ones, she will give up everything.
Besides, you have heard what chances of marriage she had, and still
she chose you. Show her, then, gratitude even in small things. Have
you not, as a student of character, noticed that natures capable of
great sacrifice reserve themselves for exceptional occasions; but in
every-day life they like to be gratified."
"Perhaps I have not thought of this so far."
"Oh, it is true beyond doubt, and that is just Nitechka's nature.
But you are not in a position to know what kind of a nature she has,
though you should know, for the reason that she chose you. But you men
are not able to perceive so many shades of feeling. If it should come
to some crisis, you would see that in her there is not one trace of
selfishness. May the Lord God preserve her from every trial! but should
it come to anything, you would see."
"I know that you esteem Panna Nitechka," said Pan Ignas, with certain
animation; "but still you do not think so much good of her as I do."
"Ah, how I love you when you say things like that!" cried Pani Bronich,
with delight. "My dear! But, if it is thus, then I will whisper still
more in your ear: she loves passionately that gentlemen should wear
black silk stockings; but remember that one look is enough for her to
see what is silk and what is Scotch thread. My God! do not suppose that
I wish to mix in everything. No one is able to keep away so well as I;
but it is only a question of this,--that Nitechka should never think
that you are not equal to others in any regard whatever. What's to be
done? You are marrying a real artist, who loves that everything around
her should be beautiful. And, in truth, she will not be so poor as not
to have a right to this. Will she?"
Pan Ignas took out his notebook, and said,--
"I will write down your orders, so as not to forget them."
There was a shade of irony in what he said. Pani Bronich, with her
excess of words, her manner of talking, and especially her evident
infatuation for things of exceptional superfluity, had made him
impatient very often. Pan Ignas was offended by a certain parvenu
element in her nature. Since he did not see what palaces she was
building with the property of old Zavilovski, he was unable to
understand that a sensitive woman could be so unceremonious with him
in demands for "Nitechka" when it was a question of the style of
their future life. He had supposed previously that it would be just
the opposite, and that those ladies would be even over-scrupulous
and delicate; this was his first disillusion. On the other hand, he
was pained by the bad taste with which Pani Bronich mentioned almost
daily the great matches which "Nitechka" might have made, and also her
self-denials for his sake; these _self-denials_ had not taken place
yet. Pan Ignas did not over-estimate himself, but also he did not
carry his head lower than was needful; and with that which was in him
he considered himself not a worse, but a better match than such men
as Kopovski, and the various Colimaçaos, Kanafaropuloses, and similar
operatic lay figures. He was indignant at the very thought that they
dared to compare these men with him, especially to his disadvantage.
Having poetry and love in his soul, he judged that he had that which
even princes of this world cannot command always. What his every-day
life with Lineta would be, of that he had not thought much hitherto,
or had thought in a general way only; but feeling strong, and being
ready to seize every fate by the forelock, he trusted that it would be
agreeable. To chaffer with this future he had no intention; and when
Pani Bronich expressed wishes like these, he had to restrain himself
from telling her that they seemed to him vulgar.
Svirski, when stopping at Prytulov, gave out once the striking
opinion that love was not blind altogether, but only suffering from
daltonism. Pan Ignas thought that the painter had Osnovski in mind,
and did not suspect that he himself was a perfect example of a man
subject to the infirmity mentioned. He was blind, however, only in
reference to Lineta; except her he saw and observed everything with
greater readiness than others. And certain observations filled him
with astonishment. Omitting his observations on Pani Aneta, her Yozio,
and Kopovski, he noticed, for example, that his own relations with
Pani Bronich began to change; and from the time that he had become
near to her, and she had grown accustomed to him, and confidential,
as with a future relative, and the future husband of "Nitechka," she
began to have less esteem for his person, his work, and his talent. To
an ordinary eye this was invisible, perhaps, but to Pan Ignas it was
clear, though he could not explain its origin. The future alone was
to teach him that common natures, by contact with persons or things
which are higher, lose esteem for them through this familiarity, as if
showing involuntarily that whatever becomes near to them must thereby
be infected with vulgarity and meanness, and cannot, for that very
reason, continue lofty. Meanwhile Pani Bronich disenchanted him more
and more. He was impatient at that convenient "Teodor," whose rôle it
was to shield with his dignity from beyond the tomb every act of hers;
he was amazed at that bird-like mobility of her mind which seized on
the wing everything from the region of the good and the beautiful, and
turned it at once into empty and meaningless phrases.
Besides, her enormous ill-will for people astonished him. Pani
Bronich, almost servile in presence of old Zavilovski, spoke of him
with animosity in private; Panna Helena she simply disliked; of Pani
Kraslavski and Pani Mashko she spoke with endless irony; of the
Bigiels, with contempt; more specially salt in her eye was Marynia. She
listened to the praises rendered Marynia by Svirski, Pan Ignas, and
Osnovski with the same impatience as if they had been detractions from
Lineta. Pan Ignas convinced himself that, in truth, Pani Bronich cared
for no one on earth except "Nitechka." But just this love made up in
his mind for all her disagreeable peculiarities; he did not understand
yet that such a feeling, when associated with hate and exclusiveness,
instead of widening the heart, makes it narrow and dry, and is merely
a two-headed selfishness, and that such selfishness may be as rude and
harsh as if one-headed. Loving Lineta himself with his whole soul, and
feeling better and kinder from the time that he had begun thus to love
her, he considered that a person who loved really could not be evil at
heart; and in the name of their common love, "Nitechka," he forgave
Pani Bronich all her shortcomings.
But with reference to Lineta, that quick observer could not see
anything. The strongest men make in love so many unhappy mistakes for
one reason,--that they array the beloved in all their own sunbeams, not
accounting to themselves afterward that this glory with which they are
blinded has been put by themselves there. So it was with, Pan Ignas.
Lineta became accustomed more and more every day to him, and to her own
rôle of betrothed. The thought that he had distinguished her, raised
her above others, chosen her, loved her, from having been, as once, a
continual living source of satisfaction to her vanity and pride, was
beginning to lose the charm of novelty, and grow common. Everything
which it was possible to win from it for her own personal glory had
been won by the aid of Aunt Bronich. The admiration of people had
been also "juggled out" of it, as Svirski said; and the statue was so
near her eyes now that instead of taking in the whole, she began to
discover defects in the marble. At moments yet, under the influence
of the opinion or admiration of others, she regained the recollection
and knowledge of its proportions; but she was seized by a kind of
astonishment that that man in love with her, looking into her eyes,
and obedient to every beck of hers, was that Zavilovski over whom even
Svirski loses his head, and whom such a man as Osnovski esteems as some
precious public treasure. She could send him at any moment for fresh
strawberries, if she wished, or for yarn; the knowledge of this caused
her a certain pleasure, hence he was needed. She admired her own power
in him, and sometimes she detailed to him impressions of this kind
quite sincerely.
Once, when they went out to damp fields, Pan Ignas returned for her
overshoes. Kneeling by an alder-tree, he put them on her feet, which he
kissed. Then she, looking at that head bent to her feet, said,--
"People think you a great man, but you put on my overshoes."
Pan Ignas raised his eyes to her and, amused by the comparison,
answered joyously, without rising from his knees,--
"Because I love immensely."
"That is all right; but I am curious to know what people would say of
it?"
And the last question seemed to occupy her most of all; but Pan Ignas
quarrelled that moment with her because she said "you" to him, but
he did not notice, however, that, in her "that is all right," there
was that peculiar indifference with which things too familiar or less
important are slipped over. With a similar half-attention she heard
what he said then,--that not being vain, he considers himself a man
like his fellows, but that he respects his career, and counts a life
the greatest happiness in which it is possible to serve loftily, and
love simply. In the feeling of this happiness he embraced her with his
arm, so as to have his simple love as near his breast as possible. But
when his prominent chin pushed forward still more, as happened whenever
he spoke with enthusiasm, Lineta begged him to leave off the habit, as
it made him look stern, and she liked joyous faces around her. While
her hand was in now, she reminded him also that yesterday, when they
were sailing over the pond, and he was tired after rowing, he breathed
very loudly. She did not like to tell him then how that "acted on her
nerves." Any little thing "acts on her nerves;" but nothing acts like
some one who is tired, and breathes loudly near her.
Saying this, she took off her hat and began to fan her face. The breeze
raised her bright hair; and in the green shade of the alder-trees,
quivering in the sun, which shone in through the leaves, she looked
like a vision. Pan Ignas delighted his eyes with her, and in her words
admired, above all, the charm of a spoiled child. There was perhaps
something more in them; but he neither sought nor found it, just
because his love, with all its force, was simple.
Simplicity, however, does not exclude loftiness. Lineta had, in fact,
clung like a spider-web to the wings of the bird, which, in spite of
her, bore her to heights where one had to feel every movement with
the heart, to divine all, to understand all, and where even the mind
must exert itself to give expression to feeling. But Lineta was "so
lazy,"--she had said so on a time to her soarer, who at present did
not even suspect that those heights merely made her tired and dizzy,
nothing more.
It happened to her now oftener and oftener to wake in the morning, and
remember that she must meet her betrothed, that she must tune herself
up to his high note; and this gave her the feeling that a child has,
for whom a hard lesson is waiting. She had recited that lesson already;
she had answered more or less everything which had been taught her; and
she judged that her betrothed ought to give a vacation now. Finally,
she had enough of all those uncommonnesses, both of herself and of
others, those original sayings, those apt answers, with which she had
campaigned in society so far. She felt, moreover, that the supply was
exhausted, that the bottom of the well could be seen. There remained
to her yet only certain artistic feelings, and that unendurable "Pan
Ignas" might be satisfied, if from time to time she showed him now
a broad field, now a bit of forest, now a strip of land with yellow
grain, as if scattered in the light, and said, "Beautiful! beautiful!"
That was easier. He, it is true, could not find words to express
admiration of the artistic depth of soul hidden in such a single word
as "beautiful;" but if that were true, what more did he want? and
why, in conversation, in feelings, in method of loving, did he force
her to those useless efforts? If he did not force her, if that came
without his knowledge, so much the worse for him, that, being by nature
so abrupt, he did not even know it. In such a case let him talk with
Steftsia Ratkovski.
With "Koposio," on the other hand, there was no need of effort; his
society was real rest for Lineta. The mere sight of him made her
gladsome, called out a smile on her face, inclined her to jesting.
It is true that Pan Stanislav had once in his life been jealous of
Kopovski; but to Pan Ignas, a man who lived a mental life far more
exclusively, and therefore measured everything with a measure purely
mental, it did not even occur that a maiden so spiritualized and so
"wise" as "Nitechka," could for a moment consider Kopovski as other
than a subject for witticisms, which she permitted herself continually.
Had not Pani Bronich, in spite of all her mental shallowness, grown
indignant at the mere hint of giving Lineta to Kopovski? What Pan
Ignas had seen between Kopovski and Pani Aneta was no lesson, for he
considered his "Nitechka" as the opposite pole of Aneta. "Nitechka,"
besides, had chosen him, and he was the antithesis of Kopovski; that
alone set aside every doubt. "Nitechka" amused herself with "Koposio,"
painted him, conversed with him, though Pan Ignas could not exhaust
his astonishment at this,--how she could avoid falling asleep while he
talked; she joked with him, she followed him with a look of amusement,
but only because she was a child yet, needing moments of amusement, and
even of vanity. But no one saw better than she his whole measureless
stupidity, and no one spoke of it more frequently. How often had she
ridiculed it to Pan Ignas!
Not all eyes, however, looked at this amusement of hers in that way,
and, above all, Pani Aneta looked at it differently; from time to
time she told her husband directly that Castelli was coquetting with
Kopovski; to "Yozio" himself this seemed at times to be true, and he
had the wish to send Kopovski away from Prytulov politely. This Pani
Aneta would not permit: "Since he is paying attention to Steftsia, we
have no right to hinder that poor girl's fortune." Osnovski was sorry
to lose that dear Steftsia on Kopovski; but since, in fact, she had no
property, and since Aneta wished the match, he would not oppose it.
But he was not able to control himself from astonishment and
indignation at Castelka: "To have such a man as Ignas, and coquet with
such a fool; to act so, a woman must be a soulless puppet surely." At
first he could not understand it. On the hypothesis, however, that
Aneta must have been mistaken, he began to observe the young lady
diligently; and since, aside from his personal relation to his wife,
he was not by any means dull-witted, he saw a number of things which,
in view of his friendship for Pan Ignas, disquieted him greatly. He
did not admit, it is true, that anything might take place to change
the position; but he asked himself what Ignas's future would be with
a woman who knew so little how to value him, and who was so slightly
developed morally that she not only found pleasure in the society of
such a brainless fop, but allowed herself to turn his head, and allure
him.
"Anetka judges others by herself," thought Osnovski, "and has really
deceived herself, ascribing certain deep feelings to Castelka. Castelka
is a puppet; and, if spirits like Anetka and Ignas do not come,
nothing rouses her." In this way that unfortunate man, affected with
the daltonism of love, while discovering truth on one side, fell into
greater and greater error on the other. On "Castelka," therefore,
he looked more justly every day, and needed no excessive effort to
convince himself that in the relations of that "ideal" "Nitechka" with
Kopovski there were jests, it is true, there was much contradiction,
teasing, even ridicule; but there was also such an irresistible
weakness, and such an attraction, as women with the souls of milliners
have for nice and nicely dressed young men. The phenomenal stupidity
of Kopovski seemed to increase in country air; but as a recompense
the sun gilded his delicate complexion, through which his eyes became
more expressive, his teeth whiter, while the beard on his face was
lighter, and gleamed like silk. Indeed, brightness shone not only from
his youth and beauty, but also from his linen, from his neckties,
from his exquisite and simple costumes. In the morning, dressed for
lawn-tennis, in English flannel, he had in him the freshness of morning
and the dreaminess of sleep. His slender, finished form appeared as if
fondlingly through the soft cloth; and how could that bony Pan Ignas,
with his insolent Wagner jaw and his long legs, be compared, in the
eyes of those ladies, with that "mignon" who called to mind at once
the gods of Greece and the fashion sheets, the glyptotheks of Italy
and the _table d'hôtes_ of Biarritz or Ostend. One should be such an
original as that still-water Steftsia to insist, unless from malice,
that he was an insufferable puppet. Castelka, it is true, laughed when
Svirski said that Kopovski, especially when some question was put to
him on a sudden, had an expression in which were evident the sixteen
"quarterings" of stupidity in his escutcheon, both on the male and
female side. In truth, he had a somewhat absent look, and, in general,
could not understand at first what people said to him. But he was so
joyous, he seemed so good-natured, and, in spite of a way of thinking
which was not over elevated, he was so well-bred, beautiful, and fresh
that everything might be forgiven him.
Pan Ignas deceived himself in thinking that only Pani Bronich was
pining for things of external richness, and that his betrothed did not
even know of those requests with which her aunt comes. Castelka did
know of them. Having lost hope that "Pan Ignas" could ever be equal
to Kopovski, she wanted at least that he should approach him. For
things of external richness she had an inborn leaning, and "aunt," when
begging Pan Ignas to buy this or that for himself, merely carried out
Lineta's wishes. For her, really, one glance was enough to distinguish
silk from Scotch thread, and all her soul was rushing instinctively
to silk; for her Kopovski was among men what silk is among textures.
Had it not been for Pani Aneta, who restrained the young man, and for
the various lofty feelings which she had talked into Lineta, Lineta,
without fail, would have married Kopovski. Osnovski, knowing nothing of
all this, was even astonished that that had not taken place; for he, in
the end of his observations, had come to the conclusion that both for
Lineta and Pan Ignas this would have been perhaps better.
One day he confided these thoughts to his wife, but she grew angry, and
said, with great animation,--
"That did not happen, because it could not. No one is obliged to
accommodate himself to Yozio's plans. I, first of all, saw that
Castelka was coquetting with Kopovski. Who could know that she was such
a nature? To be betrothed and to coquet with other men,--that passes
human understanding. But she does it through vanity, and through spite
against Steftsia Ratkovski, and maybe to rouse jealousy in Pan Ignas.
Who knows why? It is easy for Yozio to talk now, and to throw all the
blame on me for having made this marriage; let Yozio remember better
how many times he was enchanted with Castelka, how many times he said
that hers was an uncommon nature, and that just such a one would make
Pan Ignas happy. A pretty uncommon nature! Now she is coquetting with
Kopovski, and if she were his betrothed she would coquet with Pan
Ignas. Whoever is vain, will remain so forever. Yozio says that she
was fitted for Kopovski; it was necessary to have that way of thinking
at first, not at present, when she is the betrothed of Pan Ignas.
But Yozio says this purposely to show me what a folly I committed in
helping Pan Ignas."
And the whole affair was so turned by Pani Aneta that Pan Ignas and
Castelka descended to the second place, but in the first appeared
the cruelty and malice of Yozio. Osnovski, however, began to justify
himself, and, opening his arms, said,--
"Anetka! How canst thou even suppose that I wanted to do anything
disagreeable to thee? I know, besides, how honest and cordial thy
wishes were; but terror takes hold of me when I think of the future of
Ignas, for I love him. I should wish from the soul of my heart that God
had given him such a person as thou art. My dearest little bird, thou
knowest that I would rather lose my tongue than say one bitter thing to
thee. I came to thee so just to talk and take counsel, for I know that
in that dear head of thine there is always some cure for everything."
When he had said this, he began to kiss her hands and then her arms
and face with great affection, and with increasing enthusiasm; but she
turned her head aside, twisting away from his kisses, and saying,--
"Ah, how Yozio is sweating!"
He was, in fact, almost always in perspiration, for he played whole
days at tennis, raced on horseback, rowed, wandered through fields and
forests, to grow thin as far as was possible.
"Only tell me that thou art not angry," said he, dropping her hand, and
looking into her eyes tenderly.
"Well, I am not; but what help can I give? Let them go as quickly as
possible to Scheveningen, and let Kopovski stay here with Steftsia."
"See, thou hast found a plan. Let them go at the beginning of August.
But hast thou noticed that somehow Steftsia is not very--somehow
Kopovski has not pleased her heart so far?"
"Steftsia is secretive as few are. Yozio doesn't know women."
"Thou art right surely in that. But I even see that she doesn't like
Castelka. Maybe, also, she is angry in her heart with Kopovski, too."
"What!" inquired Aneta, with animation, "has Yozio seen anything with
reference to Castelka?
"Koposio laughs at her, for he has good teeth; but if I should
see anything, he wouldn't be in Prytulov. Maybe, too, Castelka is
coquetting with him, because such is her nature--without knowing it.
That itself is bad, but that it should go as far as looking at each
other seriously, I don't believe.
"But it is necessary to examine Koposio as to Steftsia. Knowest what,
Yozio? I will go this very day with him on horseback to Lesnichovka,
and I will talk with him rather seriously. Go thou in another
direction!"
"Good, my child. But see, thy head is finding measures already!"
Going out, he stopped on the threshold, thought a while, and said,--
"But how wonderful all this is! and how it passes understanding! This
Ignas catches everything on the wing; and at the same time he worships
Castelka as if she were some divinity, and sees nothing and nothing."
In the afternoon, when Kopovski and Pani Aneta were riding along
the shady road to the forest cottage, Pan Ignas followed them with
his eyes, and looked at her figure on horseback, outlined in the
well-fitting riding-dress. "She is shaped like a slender pitcher,"
thought he. "But how elegant and enticing she is! There is in this some
irony of life, that that honest and kindly Osnovski divines nothing."
And truly there was irony of life in that, but not in that only.