After the solemnity of the christening, and after the departure of
Svirski and Pan Ignas, the Polanyetskis began to live again a secluded
and home life, seeing scarcely any one except the Bigiels, Pani
Emilia, and Vaskovski. But it was pleasant for them in that narrow
circle of near friends, and pleasantest of all with themselves. Pan
Stanislav was greatly occupied; he sat long in the counting-house and
outside the counting-house, settling some business of which no one
else knew anything. But, after finishing his work, he hurried home
now with greater haste than when, as betrothed, he flew every day to
the lodgings of the Plavitskis. His old liveliness returned, his old
humor and confidence in life. Soon he made a discovery which seemed
to him wonderful,--namely, that not only did he love his wife with
all his power as his wife and the one dearest to him, but that he was
in love with her as a woman, without alarm or effort, it is true,
without transitions from joy to doubts and despair, but with all the
emotions of sincere feeling, with a whole movement of desire, with a
continually uniform fresh sensitiveness to her feminine charm, and with
an untiring care, which watches, foresees, acts, anticipates, wishes,
and strives continually not to injure happiness, and not to lose it.
"I shall change into an Osnovski," said he, humorously; "but to me
alone is it permitted to be an Osnovski, because my little one will
never become a Pani Aneta." He said "my little one" to her often now,
but there was in that as much respect as petting. He understood, too,
that he never should have loved her so, if she had been other than
she was; that all was the result of her immense, honest will, and of
that sort of wonderful rectitude which issued from her as naturally
as heat from a hearth. Pan Stanislav knew that his mind was the more
active, his thought the more far-reaching, and his knowledge profounder
than her knowledge; still he felt that through her, and through her
alone, all that which was in him had become in some way more finished
and more noble. Through her influence all those principles acquired
by him passed from his head, where they had been a dead theory, to
his heart, where they became active life. He noticed, too, that not
only happiness, but he himself was her work. There was in this even
a little disillusion for him, since he saw, without any doubt, that
had he found some common kind of woman he might have turned out some
common kind of man. At times he wondered even how she could have loved
him; but he called to mind then her expression, "service of God," and
that explained to him everything. For such a woman marriage, too,
was "service of God," as was love also, not by some wild power lying
beyond the will of people, but precisely by an act of honest will, by
serving an oath, by serving God's law, by serving duty. Marynia loved
him because he was her husband. Such was she, and that was the end of
the question! For a long time Pan Stanislav was not able to see that
all that which he worshipped in her was enjoined directly by the first
catechism which one might take up, and that in her training had not
killed the catechism. Perhaps she had not been reared with sufficient
care; but she had been taught that she must serve God, and not use God
to serve herself.
Pan Stanislav, not understanding well the reasons why she was what she
was, admired her increasingly, honored and loved her. As to her, while
taking things without exaggeration, she did not conceive an excessive
opinion of herself; she understood, however, that life had never been
so pleasant for her as it then was; that she had passed through certain
trials; that during those trials she had acted honorably; that she
had endured the trials with patience; that the Lord God had rewarded
her. And this feeling filled her with peace. Her health came back
completely; she felt, therewith, very pleasant, and very much beloved.
That "Stas," whom formerly she had feared a little, inclined his dark
head frequently to her knees with submissiveness almost; and she
thought with delight that "that man was not at all bending by nature,
and that if he did bend, it was because he loved much." And she just
grew every day. Gratitude rose in her, and she paid him for his love
with her whole heart.
The young "Aryan" filled his rôle of a ray in the house splendidly.
Sometimes it was, indeed, a ray connected with noise; but when he was
in good-humor, and when, lying in his favorite position, with his legs
raised at right angles, he drew cries of delight from himself, all the
male and female population of the house gathered around his cradle.
Marynia covered his legs, calling him "naughty boy;" but he pulled
off the cover every instant, thinking, evidently, that if a man of
character has determined to kick, he should hold out in his undertaking
bravely. He laughed while he kicked, showing his little toothless gums,
crowing, twittering like a sparrow, cooing like a dove, or mewing
like a cat. On such occasions his nurse and mother talked for whole
hours with him. Professor Vaskovski, who had lost his head over the
boy altogether, maintained with perfect seriousness that that was an
"esoteric speech," which should be phonographed by scientists, for it
might either disclose thoroughly the mystery of astral existence, or,
at least, touch on its main indications.
In this way the winter months passed in the house of the Polanyetskis.
In January, Pan Stanislav began to make journeys on some business,
and after each return he had long consultations with Bigiel. But from
the middle of January he stayed at home permanently, never going out,
unless to the counting-house, or to take short excursions with Marynia
and Stas in the carriage. The uniformity of their life, or rather the
uniformity of its calmness and happiness, was interrupted only by news
of acquaintances in the city, brought most frequently by Pani Bigiel.
In this way Marynia learned that Panna Ratkovski, who, of late, had
not shown herself anywhere, had established a refuge for children
from the income secured her by Panna Helena, and that Osnovski had
gone really to Egypt, not alone, however, but with his "Anetka," with
whom, after returning to health, he reunited himself. Pan Kresovski,
the former second of Mashko, had seen them in Trieste, and declared to
Pan Stanislav ironically that "the lady had the look of a submissive
penitent." Pan Stanislav, knowing from experience how a person is
crushed in misfortune, and what sincerity there may be in penitence,
replied with perfect seriousness that since her husband had received
Pani Osnovski, no decent man had a right to be more exacting than he
was.
But later news came from Italy which was more wonderful, and so unheard
of that it became the subject of talk, not only for the Polanyetskis
and the Bigiels, but the whole city,--namely, that the artist Svirski
had asked in Rome for the hand of Panna Castelli, and that they would
be married immediately after Easter. Marynia was so much roused by
this that she persuaded her husband to write to Svirski and ask if it
were true. An answer came in ten days; and when Pan Stanislav entered
his wife's room at last with the letter, holding it by the corner of
the envelope, and with the words, "Letter from Rome!" the serious
Marynia ran up to him, with cheeks red from curiosity, and the two,
standing temple to temple, read as follows:--
"Is it true? No, dear friends, it is not true! But that you should
understand why that could not take place, and can never take
place, I must speak to you of Pan Ignas. He came here three days
since. First I persuaded him to remain in Florence, then to glance
at Sienna, Parma, and especially Ravenna. Thence I send him to
Athens, and to-morrow he will go by way of Brindisi. Meanwhile
he sat with me from morning till evening. I saw that something
was troubling the man, and wishing to turn direct conversation
to things which concerned him more closely, I asked yesterday
carelessly if he had not in his portfolio a half a dozen sonnets
on Ravenna. And do you know what took place? At first he grew
pale, and answered, 'Not yet,' but added that he would begin to
write soon; then he threw his hat on the floor suddenly, and began
to sob like a child. Never have I seen an outburst of similar
suffering. He just wrung his hands, saying that he had murdered
his talent; that there was nothing more left in him; that never
would he have power to write another line; that he would prefer a
hundred times that Panna Helena had not saved him. You see what
is happening within him; while people will say, surely, that he
does not write because he has money. And this, beyond doubt, will
remain so. They have killed the poor man, murdered soul and talent
in him, put out the strong fire from which light and warmth might
have come to people. And that, see you, I could not forget. God be
with Panna Castelli! but it was not right for her to pluck such
feathers to make for herself a fan, which she threw out of the
window soon after. No! I could not forget this! Never mind what
I said in Warsaw, that now she must find a Prince Crapulescu,
since no one else will take her; for, besides that kind, there
are blind men in the world also,--plenty of them. As to me, I am
neither Prince Crapulescu, nor blind. It is permitted to forgive
wrongs done to one's self, but not those done to others; for that
would be too easy. And this is all that I can tell you touching
this matter, for you yourselves know the rest. I am waiting out
the year; then I shall repeat my prayer to Panna Ratkovski. If
she wants me, or rejects me, may God bless her in every case; but
still that is my unchangeable decision."
"Indeed!" interrupted Marynia; "but whence did such news come?"
But in the continuation of the letter Svirski gave an exact answer.
"All this gossip" (wrote he), "may have arisen from this that I
have seen those ladies rather often. You remember that, during my
former stay in Rome, Pani Bronich wrote to me first, and I was
with them. Panna Castelli, instead of seeking evasions, blamed
herself. I confess that that affected me. Let people say what they
like, still in an open confession of fault there is a certain
awakening of honesty, a certain courage, a certain turn, a groan
of sorrow, which, if it does not redeem the offence, may redeem
the soul. And believe me that in this which I say there is more
than my heart of butter. Think, also, that in truth it is evil for
them. Are the times few in which I have seen the hesitation with
which they approach people, and how they are received by persons
who have the courage of their principles? So much bitterness has
gathered in these two women, that, as Vaskovski said with truth
once, they are beginning to be embittered against themselves. That
is a terrible position, in which one belongs, as it were, to the
world, and carries the burden of a notable scandal. God be with
them! Much might be written of this; but I remember always what
Panna Helena said,--that one must not despair of a man while he
lives. That unfortunate Lineta has changed from grief; she has
grown thin and ugly, and I am very sorry for her. I am sorry even
for Pani Bronich, who, it is true, bores holes in people's ears
with her lies; but she does it out of attachment to that girl.
Still, as I have said, it is permitted only to forgive wrongs
done ourselves; but a man would be a kind of gorilla, and not a
Christian, if he did not feel a little pity over the misfortunes
of people. Whether I shall have the heart to go to them again
after having seen the despair of Ignas, I know not. I am not
sorry, however, that I was there. People will talk; they will
stop talking; and after a year or so, if God grant me and that
dear maiden to wait it out, they will see that they are talking
nonsense."
The letter finished with a reference to the Osnovskis, of whose reunion
Svirski knew; he had heard, even, various details which were unknown to
Pan Stanislav.
"To think" (wrote he) "that God is more powerful than the
perversity of man, and also is fabulously merciful, and that
sometimes He permits misfortune to beat a man on the head as
with a hammer, so as to knock some spark of honesty out of him.
I believe now even in the rebirth of such as Pani Aneta. Maybe
it is naïve in me, but at times I admit that there are no people
in the world who are completely bad. See, something quivered in
Pani Aneta even; she nursed him in his sickness. Oi, those women!
Everything is so turned around in my head that soon I shall not
have an opinion, not merely about them, but about anything."
Further on were questions about Stas, and heartfelt words for his
life-givers, and finally a promise to return in the first days of
spring.