Helena hardly believed her own happiness. She was preparing for her
marriage. Her clouded past had vanished, life's night was over, the
morning was shining.
From a woman of a wandering star, who knew not where and how low she
might fall, from a woman who was a beggar, from a woman without a
morrow, to enter into a new period of life, to receive the affection of
a man whom she loved, to become in the future a wife, to begin a calm
life, a life which had a to-morrow, surrounded by respect, filled with
love and duty,--that was her future.
Helena understood, or rather had a prescience of the abnormal relation
between her past and her future. "From such a life as mine that ought
not to come. I am not worthy of this happiness," whispered she to Yosef,
when he placed the ring of betrothal on her finger. "I am not worthy of
such happiness."
That half-insane woman possessed of love was right. Out of the logic of
life such a future could not bloom, but her life had ceased already to
move in its own proper orbit.
There are stars which circle in solitude along undefined orbits, till
swept away by more powerful planets they go farther, either around them
or with them.
Something similar had happened to Helena.
A stronger will had attracted a weaker. Helena met Yosef on her track,
and thenceforward she travelled in his course.
The knowledge of this made her more peaceful. "Oh, if he wishes I shall
be happy," thought she, more than once.
She had unbounded belief, not only in Yosef's character, but in his
strength. So the last shadow vanished from her soul; alarm disappeared,
that indefinite fear of the future which she could not dismiss till the
moment of Yosef's declaration, this fear which tortured her like a
reproach of conscience.
Her head was full of imaginings. With a song on her lips she made
preparations for marriage, amusing herself like a child with every
detail of dress. Notwithstanding her widowhood she wished to wear a
white dress, which would also please Yosef. Regaining cheerfulness, she
regained her health also; she was busy, active, even minutely
painstaking with reference to future housekeeping.
She grew more beautiful and more noble-looking under the influence of
happiness. From being a misanthropic woman, a bird with plucked wings,
she was changing into a woman who felt her own worth, even in this, that
some one loved her.
The date of the marriage was approaching.
Meanwhile the time in which Yosef was to become a doctor was drawing
near. He toiled, therefore, and toiled so intensely that his health
tottered. Sleepless nights and mental effort marked his face with
pallor; he grew thin, blue under the eyes; he lived in continual
feverish labor, in reality he was losing his strength, but he kept on
his feet as best he could, wishing at any price to win absolutely both
position and an independent future.
Besides ambition and the approaching date of his marriage, one other
thing urged him to those efforts: the supply of money which he had
brought from home had been gradually diminishing, and at present was
almost exhausted. Now the burden of expenses and housekeeping fell on
Augustinovich. Augustinovich had given up drinking and earned more than
Yosef. Music lessons brought him in very much relatively, and he did not
need to renounce them because of the pressure of other work, for with
him natural gifts took the place of time and toil, even more than was
needed.
He went to Pani Visberg's daily, as before. Malinka ran out every
evening to open the door to him, and every evening she snatched away her
hands, which he had the habit of covering with numerous kisses. The
honest girl grew attached to Pan Adam. Did he love her? Rather no than
yes, for the past had quenched in him the powers of sympathy. In reality
he had not fire to the value of a copper. If passion had given heat to
his powers, they would have carried him far, but the light from them was
like moonlight, it gave light without heat.
That, however, did not hinder him from being, as they say, a capital
fellow, a perfect comrade, and a pleasant companion. If he felt any
attachment, it was for Yosef. But he had his likes and dislikes; he
liked Malinka, but he did not like Lula.
And why did he not like her? There were various reasons. She met him
always with cool loftiness, and besides she was a countess. Usually he
had success with women; he owed it to his inexhaustible joyousness, and
even to his cynicism, which made him as if at home everywhere. He had,
moreover, a most particular power of adapting himself to that society in
which he chanced to be. Never refined, he possessed (when he wished)
high social polish. He used to say of himself that in him ease of
distinction was inherited, since it came "from worthy blood." He had
never known his parents, it is true, nor known who they were. He had the
hypothesis, even, that, according to the well-known jest, Letitia the
grandmother of Napoleon III. and his grandmother were grandmothers; he
proved in this way his relationship with the Buonapartes.
Notwithstanding these characteristics, Lula ignored him somewhat.
Yosef's solid, simple character roused a deeper interest in her than the
frivolous, elastic nature of Augustinovich. Besides, she loved Yosef.
So, by the nature of things, Augustinovich remained at one side. That
annoyed him. This was the state of things when Pelski appeared.
Especially from the time when Yosef ceased to pay visits, Lula had
changed uncommonly. Augustinovich annoyed her, for he judged things
through the prism of his particular repugnance to her. He thought that
then, if ever, she would show him dislike and even contempt; meanwhile
it came out otherwise. Lula left her rôle of indifference and began to
fear him.
"Thanks to the gods," thought Augustinovich, "a man's tongue is nimble
enough, it seems. She is afraid that I shall make a fool of Pelski."
In fact, something of the kind happened a number of times,--a thing
which it must be confessed touched Lula very disagreeably.
At first Lula asked, time after time, about Yosef, but received the same
answer always, "He is working." At last she ceased asking. Still it
seemed that she wished to win over Augustinovich. In her treatment of
him there was now a certain mildness joined with a silent melancholy.
Often she followed him uneasily with her eyes when he came in, as if
waiting for some news.
This alarm was natural. Whether she loved Yosef or not, it could not but
astonish her that he on whom she had counted so much, who had shown her
so much sympathy always, had now forgotten her. She could not rest
satisfied, either, with the answers of Augustinovich.
In spite of the greatest labor it was impossible that Yosef should not
find in the course of more than two months one moment of time, even, to
look in at her, to inquire about her health, all the more since she knew
that he loved her. In this thought the coming of Pelski was connected in
her mind wonderfully with the absence of Yosef. She supposed, justly,
that there was a certain connection between them. Augustinovich alone
could explain these things, but he did not wish to do so.
Alarmed, then irritated and troubled, attracted by Pelski to regions of
brilliant dreams, and a splendid future of wealth, comfort, servants,
and carriages, on the one side, on the other she rushed in mind to the
modest lodgings of Yosef, inquiring anxiously why he did not come.
But he did not come. Pelski appeared every day more definitely as a
rival. Lula, blaming Yosef for indifference, annoyed and humiliated by
this, was willing, even through revenge, to give her hand to Pelski.
Moreover, tradition attracted her in that direction. Who had the power,
who ought to gain the victory, it was easy to foresee.
Pelski, in so far as he was able, strove to scatter the clouds from
Lula's forehead, and frequently he succeeded in doing so. From time to
time Lula had wonderful accesses of joyousness. She laughed then, and
scattered more or less witty words by thousands; and though there was a
kind of fever in this gladness, there was no little coquetry also. Her
eyes flashed on such occasions, from her temples there was a burning
atmosphere. Her lips played with an alluring smile; her words wounded
and fondled, attracted and repulsed in turn. Pelski generally, and after
a few unfortunate trials with Augustinovich, Pelski alone, fell a victim
to these freaks. He lost his head then, and from the rôle of cousin
protector he passed to that of a cousin captive.
And the more humble he became, the more insolent grew Lula; the sadder
he was, the gladder was she.
"Panna Malinka," whispered Augustinovich, on such occasions, "never be
like her; she is a coquette."
"She is not," answered Malinka, sadly. "I will remind you of these
words."
It is difficult to say what Augustinovich would have thought after such
an evening, had he seen that woman, who a moment before was coquettish,
left alone in her chamber, where she sobbed so that long, long hours
could not quiet her.
The poor girl, she could not even confess her suffering to any one, and
the grievous battle which she was fighting all alone with herself. She
wept in moments of weakness. How much wounded self-love was there in
those tears, how much sincere love for Yosef, it is difficult to tell.
Formerly she would have put her arms around the neck of the kind
Malinka, and confessed all that oppressed her soul, but now even Malinka
was a stranger to her, or at least was not so near as formerly. Just
those unsuccessful attempts to coquet with Augustinovich had wounded
deeply that maiden, who was in love with him; and besides the relations
of Lula with Pelski seemed very odd to her.
Meanwhile time passed. Lula began to doubt whether Yosef had ever loved
her. Pelski imperceptibly fed her with the thought of future comfort.
Time flowed on, and Time, according to the words of the poet, "is the
odious guardian of blooming roses."