But next day Yosef after a perfect sleep was quite calm; he even laughed
at the previous day and at his own alarms and fears.
"Many pretty phrases are uttered," said he to himself, "but are they
reality? Only a fool regrets happiness. Gustav is the best proof of
this. What good is feeling, though the strongest, though the most manly,
when purchased at the cost of life? Besides, I am little fitted for
tragedy. I love Helena, and she me. What is that to any one?
Augustinovich, rise, O scapegrace! tell me what hundred-tongued Satan
has turned the head of some brown parasol by means of thee?"
"Didst thou see her face?" inquired Augustinovich, forcing himself to
sigh.
"I did, and by Jove, it was like a freshly plucked radish--the mother
looked like a bowl of sour milk. Well, art thou in love, old man?"
"Be quiet! those are very rich ladies."
"Both? How much has the daughter?"
"Who has counted such a treasure--but she will be richer yet."
"Richer--by a husband and children?"
"No; but the mother has come on a lawsuit, and dost know whom she is
suing? Our neighbor the count owes her several thousand zlotys."
"From whom dost thou know all this? Art long acquainted with the
ladies?"
"Only since yesterday. I became acquainted by chance: they inquired for
the street--whither? I did not mind, 'pon my honor, but I told them that
the weather was very beautiful, and asked if they would not walk with
me. The old lady loves conversation dearly. I learned immediately who
they were, and why they had come to the city. She asked me if I knew the
count. I answered that I visit him daily, and that I would use my
influence on the old man to pay what he owes her. I said also that I was
a doctor of medicine, theology, and many other sciences and arts; that I
have an immense practice in Kieff. Then the mother began to tell into my
ear her troubles and the troubles of her daughter. I promised to visit
them and to examine their case carefully."
"Of course. What did the daughter say to that?"
"She hung out the red flag on her face, but the mother scolded her for
doing so, called on all the saints, and assured me of the unanimous
assistance of those saints at the day of general judgment. Thou seest
what I have won."
"Thou art an innocent."
"I shall visit them to-day."
"Whom? all the saints?"
"No, my new acquaintances. I will advise them both to marry."
"The youngest thee?"
"What dost thou wish, my dear? A man grows old; moreover, I think that
we shall greet thee soon with a hairy palm."
"I have begged thee not to interfere between me and Helena."
"Very well. I will say only that Pani Helena is beautiful."
"Surely!" answered Yosef, with ill-concealed pleasure.
At that moment Vasilkevich appeared.
"I have run in a moment," said he. "Karol is waiting downstairs for me;
we are going to the country together. Yosef, I have business with thee.
Briefly, I did not wish to mix in thy love affairs, notwithstanding
Augustinovich's prayers, but this is dragging on too long. Tell me, what
dost thou think of doing with the widow?"
Yosef had a pipe in his hand; this he hurled violently into the corner
of the room; then he sat down and looked Vasilkevich in the eyes.
"Question for question," said he. "Tell me, what hast thou to do with
the matter?"
Vasilkevich frowned, became somewhat angry; still he answered calmly,--
"I ask as one comrade may ask another. Helena is not of that class of
women who love one day but not the day following. Besides, through the
memory of Potkanski each of his colleagues has the right to expect an
answer to such a question."
Yosef rose; in his eyes blazes of anger were flashing.
"But if I give no answer, then what?" cried he.
Vasilkevich burst out in his turn,--
"Then thou thinkest, my bird, that we are going to let thee dupe this
poor woman, and not ask what thy meaning is? Satan take thee! Thou must
answer to us for the honor of Potkanski's widow. I am not the only man
who will inquire about it."
They stood some time face to face, eye to eye, each with a storm on his
forehead, as if testing each other. Finally Yosef, though trembling with
anger, was the first to regain self-mastery.
"Hear me, Vasilkevich," said he. "If some other man had done this, I
should have thrown him out of doors. I am not of those who let
themselves be regulated, and I do not understand why thou and others mix
in affairs not your own. In every case this offends me. I will answer,
therefore, thee and all who wish to mention the honor of Helena, that I
will give account of that honor only to myself, that I shall not permit
any man to meddle with my acts, and that thou and thine are committing a
brutal, and for Helena a harmful stupidity, in no way to be explained by
your taking her part. I have done speaking and I am going out, leaving
thee time to meditate over what thou hast done."
Vasilkevich remained with Augustinovich.
"Well? Did not he give thee a head-washing?" inquired the latter.
"He did."
"Hei! wilt thou say, then, that he gave thee a head-washing?"
"He did."
"Thou hast acted stupidly; with him mildness was needed--that is a
headstrong fellow."
Yosef went straight to Helena. He was excited in the highest degree; he
could not explain Vasilkevich's act, but he felt that that third hand,
interfering between him and Helena, pushed them apart instead of
bringing them nearer.
When he entered Helena's lodgings, the door of her chamber was closed;
the maid could not tell him what her mistress was doing. He opened the
door. Helena was sleeping, leaning against the arm of a large
easy-chair. Yosef stood in the doorway and looked at her with a
wonderful expression on his face. She did not waken; her rounded breast
rose and fell with a light measured movement. There is nothing gentler
than the movement of a woman's breast; resting on it, it is possible to
be rocked to sleep as in a cradle, or in a boat moved lightly by the
waves. Every man has passed through that sleep on his mother's breast.
The secret kingdom of sleep is revealed in woman by this movement only,
which may be called blessed, so many conditions of human happiness move
with it in the regions of rest. The movement of angels' wings must be
like it. It lulls to rest everything, from the cry of the infant, to the
proud thoughts of the sage. The head of a sage, sleeping on the breast
of a woman, is the highest triumph of love. Such thoughts must have
passed through Yosef's head, for, looking at the slumbering Helena, he
grew milder and milder, just as night passes into dawn; he inclined
toward her, and touched her hand lightly with his lips.
Helena quivered, and, opening her eyes widely, smiled like a little
child when the velvety kiss of its mother rouses it from sleep. That was
the first time that Yosef came to her with a fondling so gentle and
delicate; usually he came, if not severe, dignified; but to-day he had
come to wipe out and forget at her feet the bitter impressions of the
quarrel with Vasilkevich. He was seized gradually by the marvellous
power of woman, under whose influence the muddy deposit of the soul
sinks to the bottom of oblivion. But he was too greatly agitated not to
let some of the bitterness which he felt a few moments earlier press
through his words. He raised his head, looked into her eyes, and said,--
"Helena, it seems to me that I love thee very deeply; but the folly of
people irritates my personality, challenges me. I should like to find
strength in thee. Trust me, Helena, love me!"
"I do not understand thee," replied she.
He took her hand and spoke tenderly,--
"Still, thou shouldst understand me. I flatter myself that I am not
second to Potkanski in love for thee, or in labor for thy happiness. But
there is a difference between us. He was the son of a magnate, he could
give thee his hand at once, surround thee with plenty. I am the son of a
handicraftsman, I must labor long yet over thy happiness and my own. I
will not desert thee now, but I do not wish that thou as my wife
shouldst touch the cold realities of poverty, from which he
disaccustomed thee. But I need thy love and thy confidence. Speak,
Helena."
Helena said nothing; but she approached Yosef, and, putting her head on
his breast, raised on him eyes full of childlike confidence.
"This is my answer, my good Helenko," said Yosef; and with a long kiss
he joined her lips to his.
"This may be egotism on my part," continued he, "but forgive me. I did
not win thee by service or suffering, I have done nothing whatever for
thee. The vision of wealth with which Potkanski surrounded thee on the
one hand, the devotion of Gustav on the other, would stand forever
between us. Let me deserve thee, Helena. I have energy and strength
sufficient, I will not deceive thee."
Perhaps it seemed to Yosef that he was speaking sincerely; but how much
offended vanity there was in his words each person may divine easily
after casting an eye on the conditions in which Helena had lived up to
that time. If he had asked for her hand immediately, those conditions
would have changed very little, and certainly not for the worse, since
in that case, sharing his lodgings with her, he would have rid himself
of Augustinovich and all the outlays connected with that man. On the
other hand, it is proper to acknowledge that he kept the word given
Gustav with complete conscientiousness. Nothing had changed with
reference to Helena. Yosef would have taken her at that time in the same
conditions in which she had been for two years past.
Beyond doubt one half was true in what he had told her of his ambition;
more meaning still was there in his wish to throw down the gauntlet to
opponents; but perhaps the weightiest reason of all why he did not marry
Helena was found in the relations, of great intimacy between them of
people not united by bonds which give more than the right to fondling
and kisses. The cup was half drunk. Legalization would lessen the charm
of forbidden fruit, would decrease sweetness already tasted, more than
it would promise new.
It will appear that Augustinovich was right in some degree.
Yosef perhaps did not acknowledge to himself that his reason for not
desiring to change those relations was because he lived agreeably in
them.
Did he not love Helena, then?
He loved her; otherwise he would not have visited her daily, he would
not have kissed her lips, her forehead, her hands; but let us remember
that this met just half the desires which in other conditions we satisfy
through the way of the altar. The idea of a betrothed is that of a woman
disrobed behind a thin veil, we go to the altar to remove the veil; when
the veil disappears a part of the charm is lost. Honest human nature
recompenses the loss by the idea of attachment; when attachment fails,
habit, a thing still less enticing, appears in the place of it.
But life rolls on.
Yosef had touched the veil; two ways led to its removal,--one the way
of the altar; the other a momentary oblivion of self, a victory of
passion over honor,--a less honest, in fact a dishonest, way, but short
and alluring.
The first was difficult; to the second every moment was a temptation,
every kiss an incitement. To the first the unfortunate guardianship over
Helena disinclined him; selfishness counselled the second. But the first
was honorable, the second was not.
Yosef stood at the parting of the roads.
It might be said, indeed, that an honest man should not hesitate; but we
may also inquire how an honest man is to act when the powers of
temptation are absolutely greater than his powers of honesty.
Helena loved Yosef; she answered nervously to his kisses. She was unable
to turn the balance consciously; unconsciously she added to the weight
of that defect which in Yosef's soul weighed against honesty and honor.
How many great and small battles, torments and terrors, that magic
little word _love_ brings with it sometimes! A whole rabble of wishes
with outbreak and uproar, armed with goads and bells, a rabble
capricious, violent, flies up from every direction, plays with the human
heart as with a ball, hurls it to the lofty stars, or tramples it on the
earth. Then, O man, all the dens of thy soul are thrown open. Thou hadst
not even dreamed of what dwelt in them. All the seven deadly sins, and
all the virtues of which the catechism makes mention, are fighting each
other to win thee; thou seest thyself to be different from what thou
hadst supposed up to that time; thou ceasest to trust thyself,
suspectest thyself at every step, losest control of thyself. Passions
rise up then like flames from the depth of thy being, and like hidden
currents in a swamp, advance, creep, circle about, flow up, and then
vanish.
The night of thy soul is rent by the flame of passions. In their colors
thy own interior is shown to thee. Thou performest the rôles both of
actor and audience. Thou art like a boat, without a rudder in billows of
fire. Then, on a sudden, one thunderbolt finishes everything; the flames
vanish like fireworks, and thou art dreaming, like Dante, of heaven and
hell.
It is gloomy when after the awakening there is no one to give back the
moments through which thou hast suffered. Calmness returns, but
happiness returns not. An amputated arm gives no pain, but it does not
exist.
It may be that Augustinovich had some truth on his side, when he said
that it was not worth while to give life for a single feeling. Perhaps a
man should not break himself against the narrow walls of personal whims
and desires.
Above and around us is a broad world; waves are roaring there which have
been raised by the whole of humanity. Is it not better to weigh anchor
and push one's ship forth from the shore, quiet the weeping heart, and
sail out into a future, without happiness but with labor, without faith
but with thought?
It is certain that till the time of such a fiery test comes it is not
possible to speak of the nobility of the metal out of which the soul of
a given man has been cast. We can offer no guarantees, therefore, for
the future acts of Yosef. He passed through various temptations, we know
that; we guarantee that he fought with them according to his power; but
how it ended, whether he or they proved the stronger, will be told later
on.