Next morning after the arrival of the Polanyetskis in Kremen, it was
Sunday. Pan Stanislav himself rose late, for they had come at one
o'clock the night previous. In Kremen the servants had been waiting
with bread and salt for them. Marynia, laughing and weeping in turn,
examined every corner in the house, and after that was unable to fall
asleep, from emotion, till almost daylight. For all these reasons
Pan Stanislav did not permit her to rise; but since she wanted to
go to Mass at Vantory rather early, so as to pray at the church for
her mother, he promised to have the carriage ready, and let her know
when it was time. Immediately after breakfast he went out to look at
his new inheritance. It was the second half of May, and the day was
exceptionally beautiful. Rain had fallen in the night, and the sun
was shining on little pools in the yard; and on the buildings it was
reflected in diamond brightness in raindrops hanging on the leaves,
and it made the wet roofs of the barns, cow-houses, and sheep-houses
gleam. In that glitter, and in the bright May green of the trees,
Kremen seemed altogether charming. Around the buildings there was
hardly any movement, for it was Sunday; but at the stable were busied
some men, who had to drive to church. This silence and sleepiness
struck Pan Stanislav strangely. Having intended for some time to buy
Kremen, he had been there repeatedly, and knew that it was a neglected
property. Mashko had begun, it is true, to build a granary, which was
covered with a red roof, but he had not finished it. He had never lived
in the place himself, and toward the end could not expend anything
on the property, hence neglect was visible at every step. But never
had it seemed to Pan Stanislav neglected so absolutely as now, when
he was able to say to himself, "This is mine." The buildings were
somehow leaning; the walls in them not very solid; the fences were
inclining and broken; under the walls were lying fragments of various
broken agricultural implements. Everywhere the earth seemed desirous
of drawing into itself that which was on its surface; everywhere was
seen a kind of passive abandonment of things to themselves; everywhere
carelessness was visible. Of agriculture Pan Stanislav knew only
this, that there was need to be careful in expenses; for the rest, he
had not the least conception of it, save some general information,
which had struck his ears in childhood. But, looking at his kingdom,
he divined that cultivation of its fields must coincide exactly with
that carelessness which he saw around; he had a clear feeling that if
anything was done there it was rather from custom, from routine, as it
were, and because of this alone, that some such thing had been done
ten, twenty, a hundred years earlier. That exertion, that untiring,
watchful energy, which is the basis of commerce, of industry, and of
city industry in general,--of that there was not a trace. "If I brought
nothing more than that to this torpor," said Pan Stanislav, "it would
be very much, for there is an absolute lack of energy. Besides, I have
money, and at least this much knowledge,--that I know to begin with
that I know nothing, and second, I know that I must learn and inquire."
He remembered, besides, from his Belgian times, that even abroad, even
there in Belgium, the spirit of man and the exertion of will meant
more than the most powerful machines. And in this regard he counted on
himself, and he was able to count. He felt that he was a persistent
and active man. Everything taken in hand by him hitherto had to move,
whether it would or not. He felt, besides, that in business he had a
head that was not fantastic, but one reckoning accurately; and, thanks
to this feeling, not only did he not lose confidence at sight of the
neglect which he saw before him, but he found in it something like a
spur. That torpor, that neglect, that inertia, that sleepiness, seemed
to challenge him; and, casting his eyes around, he said to them almost
with pleasure, "That's all right; we'll have a trial!" And he was even
in a hurry for the trial.
These first reviews and thoughts did not spoil his humor, but took much
time. Looking at his watch, he saw that if he wished to be in Vantory
for Mass, it was time to start at once; giving the order, then, to
attach the horses, he returned hastily to the house, and knocked at
Marynia's door.
"Lady heiress!" called he, "the service of God!"
"Yes, yes!" answered the gladsome voice of Marynia through the door, "I
am ready."
Pan Stanislav went in, and saw her in a light summer robe, like that
in which he saw her at his first visit in Kremen. She had dressed thus
purposely; and he, to her great delight, understood her intention, for
he exclaimed, stretching out his hands to her,--
"Panna Plavitski!"
And she, as if embarrassed, put her nose up to his face, and pointed to
the cradle, in which Stas was sleeping.
Then they drove to the church with Papa Plavitski. It was a spring
day, bright, full of warm breezes and gladness. In the groves the
cuckoos were calling, and on the fields striding storks were visible.
Along the road hoopoos and magpies flew from tree to tree before the
carriage. From time to time a breeze sprang up and flew over the green
fleeces, as over waves, bending the blades of grass, and forming
quivering shades on the green of the fields. Around about was the odor
of the soil, of grass, of spring. He and she were seized by a swarm of
reminiscences. In her was called forth, though a little blunted by life
in the city, that love of hers for land, and the country, the forest
and green fields, the fruits in the fields, the pastures narrowing
in the distance, the broad expanses of air, and that extent of the
sky which is far greater than in cities. All this filled her with a
half-conscious feeling which verged on the intoxication of delight.
And Pan Stanislav remembered how once, in the same way, he had ridden
to church with Pan Plavitski, and how, in like manner, the hoopoos and
magpies flew from tree to tree before him. But now he felt at his side
that rosy woman, whom he had seen then for the first time,--that former
Panna Plavitski. In one word, he made present in his mind all that had
taken place between them: the first acquaintance, and that charm with
which she possessed him; their later disagreement; that strange part
which Litka played in their lives; their marriage, later life, and
the hesitations of happiness; the changes which, under the influence
of that clear spirit, took place in him, and the present clearing up
of life. He had also a blissful feeling that the evil had passed;
that he had found more than he had dreamed of; that at present, it is
true, misfortunes of every kind might come on him; but with reference
to relations with her, his life had become clear once for all, and
very honorable, almost equally the same as "the service of God," and
as much more sunny than the past as that horizon which surrounded
them was sunnier than that of the city. At this thought, happiness
and affection for her overflowed his heart. Arriving at Vantory, he
repeated "eternal repose" for the soul of that mother to whom he was
thankful for such a wife, with no less devotion than Marynia herself.
It seemed to him that he loved that dust, buried under the church, with
the same filial affection as the dust of his own mother.
But now the bell sounded for Mass. In the church again old memories
thronged into his mind. Everything around him was known somehow, so
that at moments he felt the illusion that he had been there yesterday.
The nave of the church was filled with the same gray crowd of peasants,
and the odor of sweet flag; the same priest was celebrating Mass at the
altar: the same birch branches, moved by the breeze, were striking the
window from the outside; and Pan Stanislav thought again, as before,
that everything passes, life passes, pains pass, hopes, impulses,
pass, directions of thought and whole systems of philosophy pass,
but Mass, as of old, is celebrated, as if in it alone were eternal
indestructibility. Marynia alone was a new form in the old picture. Pan
Stanislav, looking at moments on her calm face, and her eyes raised to
the altar, divined that she was praying with her whole soul for their
future life in the country; hence he accommodated himself to her, and
prayed with her.
But after Mass, on the church square, neighbors surrounded them, old
acquaintances of Pan Plavitski and Marynia. Plavitski, however, looked
around in vain for Pani Yamish; she had been in the city for a number
of days. Councillor Yamish was cured completely from catarrh of the
stomach; and therefore well, and made young, at the sight of Marynia he
fell into genuine enthusiasm.
"Here is my pupil!" cried he, kissing her hand, "the house mistress! my
golden Marynia! Aha! the birds have come back to the old nest. But how
beautiful she is always, as God is true,--a young lady, just a young
damsel to look at, though I know that there is a son in the house."
Marynia was blushing from delight; but at that moment the Zazimskis
approached, with their six children, and with them also Pan Gantovski,
called commonly "Little Bear," the former unsuccessful rival for
Marynia, and the incomplete slayer of Mashko. Gantovski approached
awkwardly and with some confusion, as if dazzled by Marynia's beauty,
and seized with sorrow for the happiness which had missed him. In
fact, Marynia greeted him with comic awkwardness; but Pan Stanislav
stretched his hand to him in friendliness, with the magnanimity of a
conqueror, and said,--
"Oh, I find here acquaintances even from years of childhood. How are
you?"
"In the old fashion," answered Gantovski.
But Pan Yamish, who was in excellent humor, said, looking teasingly at
the young man,--
"He has his cares in regulating peasant privileges."
Gantovski grew still more confused, for the whole neighborhood was
talking of those troubles. For some years the poor fellow had been
barely able to live in that Yalbrykov of his. The regulation of peasant
privileges and the selling of timber might have brought him to the open
road at length, when in opposition to all the conditions, which more
than once had been near settlement, there rose the eternal unchangeable
reproach on the part of his Yalbrykov neighbors that "the lord heir
rides on a white horse, fires from pistols, and looks into the girls'
eyes."
Gantovski, though accustomed from years of youth to various country
troubles, lost at times his patience and cried out in genuine despair,--
"Well, dog blood! what has one to do with the other? May the brightest
thunderbolts shake every one of you!"
But after such a convincing dictum, the Yalbrykov peasant
representatives assembled as usual a new mature council, and, after a
careful consideration of everything, _for_ and _against_, announced
again, while scratching the backs of their heads, that all would be
right, but that "the lord heir rides on a white horse, fires from
pistols, and looks at the girls."
Meanwhile Marynia, who had as much attachment for Pan Yamish as if
he had been one of the family, when she heard that he was a straw
widower, invited him to dinner. But beyond expectation Plavitski,
angry because he had not found Pani Yamish in Vantory, and mindful
of his Sunday whist parties with "Gantos," invited Gantovski too, in
consequence of which the Polanyetskis drove ahead very hurriedly, so
that Marynia might have time to make needful arrangements. Behind them
came Plavitski and the councillor; Gantovski dragged on in the rear in
his brichka drawn by a lean Yalbrykov nag.
Along the road Plavitski said to Councillor Yamish,--
"I cannot tell you. My daughter is happy. He is a good man and an
energetic piece, but--"
"But what?" asked Pan Yamish.
"But flighty. Thou hast in mind, neighbor, that he pressed me so hard
for some wretched twelve thousand rubles that I was forced to sell
Kremen. And what then? Then he bought back that same Kremen. If he had
not squeezed me, he would not have had to buy Kremen, for he would have
had it for nothing with Marynia after my death. He is a good-natured
man, but here" (and while he was saying this, Plavitski tapped his
forehead with his finger) "there is something lacking! What is true, is
not a sin."
"Hm!" answered Yamish, who did not wish to cause bitterness to
Plavitski by the remark that if Kremen had remained longer in _his_
hands nothing would have been left of it.
Plavitski sighed, and said,--
"But for me in my old age new toil, for now everything must go by my
head."
With difficulty did Pan Yamish restrain himself from shouting, "May
God forbid!" but he knew Pan Stanislav well enough to know that there
was no danger. Plavitski did not believe much in what he himself said;
he was a little afraid of his son-in-law, and he knew well that now
everything would go by another head.
Thus conversing, they drove up to the porch. Marynia, who had arranged
everything already for the dinner, received them with Stas in her arms.
"I wanted to present my son to you before we sat down to table," said
she; "a big son! a tremendous boy! a nice son!"
And in time to these words she began to sway him toward Pan Yamish.
Pan Yamish touched Stas's face with his fingers, whereupon the "nice
son" first made a grimace, then smiled, and all at once gave out a
sound which might have a certain exceptionally important meaning for
investigators of "esoteric speech;" but for an ordinary ear it recalled
wonderfully the cry of a magpie or a parrot.
Meanwhile Gantovski came, and having hung up his overcoat on a peg
in the entrance, he was looking in it for a handkerchief, when, by a
strange chance, Rozulka, young Stas's nurse, found herself also in
the entrance, and approaching Gantovski, embraced his knees, and then
kissed his hands.
"Oh! how art thou, how art thou? What wilt thou say?" asked the heir of
Yalbrykov.
"Nothing! I only wished to make obeisance," said Rozulka, submissively.
Gantovski bent a little to one side, and began to search for something
with his fingers in his breast pocket; but evidently she had come only
to bow to the heir, for, without waiting for a gift, she kissed his
hand again, and walked away quietly to the nursery.
Gantovski went with a heavy face to the rest of the company, muttering
to himself in bass,--
"Um-dree-dree! Um-dree-dree! Um-dramta-ta!"
Then all sat down at the table, and a conversation began about the
return of the Polanyetskis to the country. Pan Yamish, who, of himself,
was an intelligent man, and, as a councillor, must be wise by virtue of
his office, and eloquent, turned to Pan Stanislav, and said,--
"You come to the country without a knowledge of agriculture, but with
that which is lacking mainly to the bulk of our country residents,--a
knowledge of administration, and capital. Hence, I trust, and I am
sure, that you will not come out badly in Kremen. Your return is for
me a great joy, not only with reference to you and my beloved pupil,
but because it is also a proof of what I say always, and assert, that
the majority of us old people must leave the land; but our sons, and
if not our sons, our grandsons, will come back; and will come back
stronger, better trained in the struggle of life, with calculation in
their heads, and with the traditions of work. Do you remember what I
told you once,--that land attracts, and that it is genuine wealth? You
contradicted me, then, but to-day--see, you are the owner of Kremen."
"That was through her, and for her," answered Pan Stanislav, pointing
to his wife.
"Through her, and for her," repeated the councillor; "and do you think
that in my theory there is no place for women, and that I do not know
their value? They divine with heart and conscience where there is real
obligation, and with their hearts they urge on to it. But land is a
real obligation, as well as real wealth."
Here Pan Yamish, who, in the image and likeness of many councillors,
had this weakness, that he was fond of listening to himself, closed his
eyes, so as to listen still better, and continued,--
"Yes, you have returned through your wife! Yes, that is her merit; and
God grant us that such women be born more frequently! But in your way
you have all come out of the soil, and therefore soil attracts you.
We ought to have the plough on our escutcheons, all of us. And I tell
you more, not only did Pan Stanislav Polanyetski return, not only did
Pani Marynia Polanyetski return, but the family of the Polanyetskis
returned, for in it was awakened the instinct of whole generations, who
grew out of the soil, and whose dust is enriching it."
When he had said this, Pan Yamish rose, and taking a goblet,
exclaimed,--
"In the hands of Pani Polanyetski, the health of the family of the
Polanyetskis!"
"To the health of the family of the Polanyetskis!" cried Gantovski,
who, having a feeling heart, was ready to forgive the family of the
Polanyetskis all the sufferings of heart through which he had passed by
reason of them.
And all went with their glasses to Pani Marynia, who thanked them with
emotion; but to Pan Stanislav, who approached her, she whispered,--
"Ai, Stas, how happy I am!"
But when all in the company found themselves again at their places,
Papa Plavitski added, on his part,--
"Keep the soil to the very last! that is what I have been advocating
all my life."
"That is certain!" confirmed Gantovski.
But in his soul he thought, "If it were not for those dog blood
troubles!"
And at that very time, in the nursery, Rozulka was singing little Stas
to sleep with the sad village song,--
"Those ill-fated chambers.
Oi, thou my Yasenku!"
After dinner, the guests were making ready to separate; but Plavitski
kept them for a "little party," so that they went away only when the
sun was near setting. Then the Polanyetskis, having amused themselves
first with little Stas, went out on the porch, and further, to the
garden, for the evening was calm and clear. Everything reminded them
of that first Sunday which they had spent there together; it seemed to
them like some wonderful and pleasant dream, and reminiscences of that
kind were there without number at every step. The sun was going down
in the same way, large and shining; the trees stood motionless in the
stillness of evening, reddening at the tops from the evening light;
on the other side of the house the storks were chattering in the same
way on their nests; there was the same mood of all things around them,
cherishing and vesperal. They began to walk about, to pass through all
the alleys, go to the fences, look at the fields, which lost themselves
in the distance, at the narrow strips of woods barring the horizon, and
to say quiet things to each other, and also as quietly as that evening
was quiet. All this which surrounded them was to be their world. Both
felt that that village was taking them into itself; that some relation
was beginning to weave itself between them and it; that henceforth
their life must flow there, not elsewhere,--laborers, devoted to the
"service of God" in the field.
When the sun had gone down, they returned to the porch; but, as
on that first occasion, so now they remained on it, waiting for
perfect darkness. But formerly Marynia had kept at a distance from
Pan Stanislav; now she nestled up to his side, and said, after some
silence,--
"It will be pleasant for us here with each other, Stas, will it not?"
And he embraced her firmly, so as to feel her at his very heart, and
said,--
"My beloved, my greatly beloved!"
Then from beyond the alder-trees, which were wrapped in haze, rose the
ruddy moon; and the frogs in the ponds, having learned, evidently, that
the lady had returned, she whom they had seen so often at the shore,
called in the midst of the evening silence, in one great chorus,--
"Glad! glad!"
THE END.
Transcriber's Note
Page numbers given in these notes refer those of the printed source.
Certain compound words appear with and without hyphens. Should the
sole use of a hyphen appear at a line break in the original, the
most common form is followed, or modern usage applied if no other
instances exist.
The list below describes the various textual issues encountered,
most of them likely printer's errors, and their resolution. The printer
seems to have particular trouble with the Polish proper names and
honorifics. Where there were inconsistent or apparently incorrect
usages, a Polish language text was used to confirm the correct forms.
This text is organized as three books. The translator for our edition
eliminated the books and re-numbered the chapters consecutively.
In Chapter LXIV, the first name of Mashko's wife appears once as both
'Terenia' (p. 624) and 'Teresia' (p. 626). 'Terenia' is to be the
correct spelling.
p. 57 I never go out of the city in summer.["] Added.
p. 82 and be at rest as to Mashko.['/"] Corrected.
p. 119 and from the offence given by him[.] Added.
p. 140 answered Pani Emilia[,] Added.
p. 153 in whom irritation against Mashko [has] _sic._
been gathering
p. 233 Pan Mashko is a practical man[.] Added.
p. 258 and kiss her feet[.] Added.
p. 304 Bukat[ks/sk]i was then in a fit Transposed.
p. 357 But, my Ane[kt/tk]a Transposed.
p. 387 Pann[i/a] Castelli Corrected.
p. 408 Sche[w/v]eningen Changed to match
all other instances.
p. 411 had shown himse[l]f Added.
p. 422 looked at her with a[s]tonishment Added.
p. 429 those formulas sati[s]fied Pani Mashko Added.
p. 451 those "who were kind" to Prytulov[.] Added.
p. 462 down at his side, said,[--] Added.
but at the same [time?] exceptionally _sic._
p. 523 Osno[sv/vs]ki, knowing nothing Transposed.
p. 524 spite against Steftsia Ratkov[ks/sk]i Transposed.
p. 525 ["]Koposio laughs at her Added.
p. 528 ["]They have not returned yet; Added.
p. 604 "What does Kresov[s]ki say?" Added.
p. 626 Tere[s/n]ia Corrected.
End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Soil, by Henryk Sienkiewicz