XI

The distance between the city and Jastrzeb was not more than a mile and

a half. For this reason Gronski, the notary, and Szremski reached their

destination before four o'clock. They were expected for dinner but in

the meantime Ladislaus conducted the ladies over the sawmill; so the

doctor repaired to Pani Krzycki and Gronski ordered the saddle unpacked

and taken to Marynia's room. In a half hour the young company returned

and, greeting the notary, assembled in the salon to await the dinner.

The notary at the sight of Marynia forgot all about death sentences,

about the outrages perpetrated in the city, about socialism and the

whole world and, after kissing her hand, appropriated her exclusively

for himself. Gronski began to initiate Pani Otocka into the reasons of

his trip to the city, while Krzycki conversed with Miss Anney and

became as engrossed with her as if there were no one else in the room.

It was apparent that his exclamation on that morning that "one could

lose his head" was but a confirmation of a symptom which intensified

more and more with each moment. His uncommonly handsome young face

glowed as if from the dawn, for in his bosom he did have the dawn of a

new, happy feeling, which beamed through the eyes, the smile on the

lips, through every motion, and through the words he addressed to Miss

Anney. The spell held him more and more; a secret magnet drew him with

steadily increasing power to this light-haired maid, looking so young,

buxom, and alluring. He did not even attempt to resist that power.

Gronski observed that he evinced his rapture too plainly and that in

the presence of his mother he should have acted with more

circumspection. Miss Anney also felt this, as from time to time blushes

suffused her countenance and she pushed back her chair a little,

besides glancing about at those present as if in fear that the

excessive affability of the young host towards her might attract too

much attention. But the matter, however, was agreeable to her, for in

her eyes a certain joy flamed. Only Dolhanski gazed at her from time to

time; the others were mutually occupied.

The appearance of the doctor ended the conversations. Krzycki, after

introducing him to the ladies, together with them began to inquire

about the health of the patient, but the doctor was evidently

disinclined to speak at any length, for he answered in a few words and

in accordance with his habit spoke so loudly that Dolhanski, in his

surprise, placed the monocle on his eye.

"Nothing serious! Monsummano! Monsummano! or something like that! I

will prescribe everything! Nothing serious! Nothing!"

"But what is Monsummano?" asked Ladislaus.

"That is a warm hole in Italy in which rheumatism is boiled out. A kind

of purgatory after which salvation follows! Besides Italy, a delightful

journey! I will prescribe everything in detail."

Gronski, who often had travelled over Italy, also knew this place and

began to describe it to the curious ladies. In the meantime Ladislaus

talked about his mother's health with the doctor, who, however,

listened to him inattentively, repeating, "I will prescribe

everything," shaking his head, and looking about him, as if with

curiosity, at each of the ladies in rotation. Suddenly he slapped his

hand on his knee with a thwack which could be heard all over the room

and exclaimed:

"What marvellous faces there are in Jastrzeb and what skulls! Ha!"

Dolhanski dropped his monocle, the ladies looked amazed, but Krzycki

began to laugh.

"The doctor has a habit of thinking aloud," he said.

"And bawling out yet more loudly," grumbled the notary.

"How is your flute?" the doctor replied, laughingly.

But at that moment the servant announced that dinner was ready. Hearing

this, Pani Otocka turned with a peculiar smile to her sister and said:

"Marynia, your hair is all disheveled. Look at yourself in a glass."

The young lady raised her hands to her head, but as there were no

mirrors in the salon, she, a little confused, said:

"Beg pardon, I will return immediately."

She hastened to her room, but soon returned still more confused with

blushes and with a radiant countenance.

"A ladies' saddle!" she began to cry, "a most beautiful ladies'

saddle!"

And passing her eyes over those present, she pointed at Gronski:

"Was it you?"

"I confess," said Gronski, spreading out his hands and bowing his head.

She, on her part, had such a desire to kiss his hand that if the doctor

and the notary had not been present, she certainly would have done so.

In the meanwhile she began to thank him with effusive and perfectly

childish glee.

"I see, Panna Marynia, that you are fond of horseback riding," said

Szremski.

"I am fond of everything."

"There you have it," cried the amused doctor.

"Only secure a gentle horse; otherwise it will not be hard to meet with

accidents," observed the notary.

It soon became apparent that such a one could be procured, for on the

economical Jastrzeb estate horses were the only item of which a strict

account was not kept. Krzycki indeed maintained that they could be bred

profitably, but he did not breed them for gain but from that

traditional love of them, the immoderateness of which the reverend

Skarga,[6] a few centuries before, censured in his ancestors in the

eloquent words: "Dearer to you is the offspring of a mare than the Son

of God!" Horses therefore were not wanting in Jastrzeb and the

conversation about them and horsemanship continued, to the great

dissatisfaction of the notary, throughout the whole dinner. Those

present learned that Marynia was not entirely a novice, for at Zalesin,

at her sister's, she rode in summer time almost daily in the company of

the old manager on a clumsy, lanky pony, named Pierog. Her sister would

not permit her to ride on any other horse and "what enjoyment could

there be riding on Pierog?" She stated that this Pierog had a nasty

habit of returning home, not when she wanted to, but when he desired

to, and no urging nor threats could swerve him from his purpose when

once formed. She also sincerely envied Miss Anney who rode so well and

had ridden all the horses in Zalesin, even those unaccustomed to the

saddle. But in England all the ladies ride on horseback, while with us

somebody is worrying about somebody else. She hoped, however, that in

Jastrzeb with so many skilled riders, "Zosia" will not have any fears

about her; and that immediately after dinner they will go on an

equestrian excursion and that she will be allowed to join the party,

without, thank God, Pierog.

Ladislaus, in whom expectations of distant horseback jaunts in Miss

Anney's company had excited fond hopes, and whom, as well as the

others, the story about Pierog had put into good humor, turned to

Marynia and said:

"I will give you a horse with iron legs, who is called 'Swimmer'

because he can swim excellently. As for an excursion, the day is long

and we could arrange one, if it were not that it is beginning to get

cloudy."

"It will surely clear up," answered Marynia, "and I will dress myself

right after dinner."

In fact, after dinner the guests were barely able to finish their black

coffee before she appeared on the veranda, dressed in a black,

tight-fitting riding-habit. In it she was simply charming, but so

slender and tall that Gronski, gazing at her with his usual admiration,

was the first to begin jesting:

"A real little flute," he said. "The wind will carry off such a

woodcock, especially since it is commencing to blow."

And a strong blast of the western, warm wind really began to bend the

tree-tops and drive here and there over the heavens clouds which on the

azure background assumed large, ruddy, and globular forms.

Ladislaus, however, gave orders to saddle the horses and soon

thereafter hastened to the stables to supervise the work. Miss Anney

went upstairs to change her clothes; Gronski and Dolhanski followed her

example. On the veranda remained only Pani Zosia, the doctor, the

notary, and, attired as an equestrienne, Marynia, who cast uneasy

glances alternately at the stables and at the sky, which was becoming

more and more cloudy. After a time the first drops of rain began to

fall and immediately thereafter a more important hindrance to their

excursion occurred, for unexpectedly neighbors from Gorek, Pani Wlocek

and daughter, the same who attended the funeral of Zarnowski, arrived

in a carriage. In view of this, the horseback jaunt had to be

abandoned.

The Wlocek ladies came to ascertain the condition of Pani Krzycki's

health and at the same time to beg Ladislaus for advice and succor, for

in Gorek an agricultural strike had suddenly broke out among the manor

and farmhouse laborers. The old coachman could hardly be induced to

drive them to Jastrzeb for he was threatened with a beating. Both

ladies were much frightened, much powdered, and more pathetic than

ever. After the first greetings, mutual introductions, and a short talk

about Pani Krzycki's rheumatism, the mother, at the after-dinner tea,

addressed Ladislaus in doleful terms, adjuring him to hasten, like a

knight of old, to the defence of oppressed innocence. She said that she

was not concerned about herself, as after the losses she had survived

and the suffering she had undergone, "the silent grave" in the Rzeslewo

cemetery was the most appropriate refuge for her; but an orphan

remained who still had some claims upon life. Let him extend some

friendly protection and shield from blows and attacks this lone orphan

for whom she herself was ready to sacrifice her life. To this the

orphan replied that she too was not concerned about herself but about

the peace of Mamma;--and in this manner the conversation changed almost

exclusively in to a dialogue between these ladies in which the words,

"Allow me, child," "Permit me, Mamma," were repeated every minute and

in which the immoderate willingness of both parties to be immolated

became in the end almost tart. Ladislaus, knowing these ladies of old,

listened gravely; Pani Zosia looked at the bottom of her cup, not

daring to glance at Marynia, who contracted the corners of her mouth;

the notary sniffed and chewed; and the doctor ejaculated his "Ha!" with

such resonance that the flies whisked off the net mantle which covered

the butter and pastry.

But, in the meanwhile, out-of-doors the storm and thunder began to rage

and interrupted the sacrificial dialogue between mother and daughter.

The rooms darkened; on the windows for a time the patter of the shower

was heard; and the lightning illuminated the cloudy firmament. But this

lasted a brief while; after which Ladislaus began to reply and promise

aid to the ladies, always with becoming gravity but at the same time

with a peculiar kind of expression on his face which portended that the

young wag had a surprise concealed in his bosom. He announced,

therefore, that he was ready to mount a horse and invest Gorek with his

care; afterwards he quieted the ladies with the assurances that the

manifestations which had so alarmed them were transient; that in

Rzeslewo, it was temporarily the same, but that undoubtedly within a

short time means of foiling that evil would be found. In conclusion he

turned to Pani Wlocek and, pointing at Dolhanski, unexpectedly said:

"I do not know whether my protection will be effective for I must watch

at the same time over Rzeslewo and over Jastrzeb, in which at present

we have such agreeable guests. But here is Pan Dolhanski, a man well

known for his courage, energy, and sagacity, who has given me the best

advice about Rzeslewo. If he wished to aid you or if he agreed to take

into his hands the affairs of Gorek and Kwasnoborz, I am certain that

he would establish order there in the course of a few days, and under

his wings, ladies, no dangers could befall you."

All eyes, and particularly the eyes of the mother and daughter, were

now directed at Dolhanski. But if Ladislaus, who wanted to revenge

himself on him for his "officiousness," calculated that he would get

him into an unexpected scrape, he was mistaken, for Dolhanski coolly

bowed to the ladies from Gorek and replied, drawling each word as

usual:

"With the greatest pleasure, but we must wait until the rain stops."

"Then, sir, you agree to be our knight?" cried Pani Wlocek, extending

her hands towards him and at the same time gazing at him with a

suddenly awakened curiosity and surprise.

"With the greatest pleasure," repeated Dolhanski; "the strike will be

over to-morrow."

His complete self-assurance impressed everybody, particularly the

ladies from Gorek. At the same time, the cold tone in which he spoke

affected Pani Wlocek so much that for a while she lost her usual

pathetic volubility and after an interval she replied:

"In the name of an orphan, I thank you."

But the orphan apparently preferred to thank him herself, for she

stretched out both hands towards Dolhanski and after a brief silence,

which might be explained by her emotions, spoke in a voice resembling

the rustle of leaves:

"I am concerned about mamma."

"So am I," Dolhanski assured her.

But the mother and daughter now turned to each other:

"Allow me, child; here I am nothing."

"Permit me, Mamma; Mamma is everything."

"But I beg pardon, child--"

"Pardon me, Mamma,--"

And the strife about the burnt offerings began anew. It did not,

however, last long, as, firstly, the doctor began to make so much noise

that they could be heard with difficulty and then, Pani Krzycki, whom

the young physician permitted to rise and move to an armchair, sent a

message asking the ladies to visit her. After their departure the

doctor went to the office to write out specifically where and how the

cure should be conducted; the notary became occupied with his flute in

the vestibule. Gronski, Dolhanski, and Ladislaus for a while remained

alone.

Then Dolhanski addressed Ladislaus:

"What are these Gorek and Kwasnoborz?"

"About fifteen hundred acres, and there is also Zabianka."

"So I have heard. And the soil?"

"Almost the same as at Rzeslewo. In Zabianka it is said to be better."

"So I have heard. The state of the fortune?"

"Bad and good. Bad, because these ladies will not invest in anything.

Good, because they have no debts and every penny which flows from the

husbandry, after it gets into the stockings, never beholds daylight

again."

"That is what I have been waiting for," said Dolhanski.

"They are as stingy as they are pathetic, and who knows whether they

are not stingier?"

"Let them hoard."

And Gronski began to laugh and quoted:

"Sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves--sic vos non vobis mellificates

apes--"

"Yes," said Dolhanski.

After which suddenly to Gronski:

"To-morrow I will propose for the hand of Cousin Otocka."

"To-day you are full of surprises," replied Gronski.

"Wait! And I will be given the mitten."

"Without any doubt."

"But I want to have a clear conscience. After which I will drive over

to Gorek."

"That is already known. And you will quell the agitated waves of a

strike."

"In the course of a day. As you see me here."

After which he pointed at Ladislaus.

"That simplex servus Dei became unwittingly an instrument in the hands

of Providence. The Lord often avails Himself of pigmies. For this, when

you become bankrupt in Jastrzeb, apply to me at Gorek."

"Provided that before that time you are not reduced to the same level,"

responded Ladislaus, laughing. "You are an excellent leveller."

"We live in an age of universal levelling. But what is Panna Wlocek's

Christian name?"

"Kajetana."

"Plait-il?"

"Kajetana," repeated Krzycki. "Her father's christian name was Kajetan

and she was named in memory of him."

"Tell me then why that well-stocked Kajetana preserved herself in her

virgin state until the age of thirty or more?"

"Thirty-five, to be accurate. That is what my mother said not long ago.

She remembers the day of her birth. As to why she is unmarried the

reason is plain. Parties were not wanting but those ladies looked too

high. In the neighborhood, we only have the common nobility; and among

the Krzyckis there was not a bachelor of suitable age. You, in this

respect, would correspond to their fantasy--"

"That is well!" answered Dolhanski, "only that name! Kajetana!

Kajetana! That seems to be a kind of carriage or boat! Do I know?"

Gronski and Ladislaus regarded Dolhanski's announcement as a joke, as

one of the sallies of wit which often crossed his mind. He, however,

kept his word, for on the following day he proposed to Pani Otocka with

due gravity and, after receiving an equally grave refusal, rode off to

Gorek and settled there for a time. The young ladies, and even Pani

Krzycki, were greatly amused and interested in all this, especially

when the news reached them that the agrarian strike in Gorek ended the

same day on which Dolhanski appeared. And it also ended a few days

later in Rzeslewo, partly from the force of circumstances, from the

conviction innate in the peasant soul that the "holy land" is not to be

trifled with, and partly owing to the news which spread over the

village that somebody from some kind of a committee was to come and

decide the whole matter. Such was the case with the manor servants. The

peasants and husbandmen did not want to agree to any school and would

not relinquish the possession of the manor lands, but awaited this

somebody in equal fear and hope, sacredly believing that not the will

nor the law but some unknown power would decide everything. In the

villages, in the meantime, more peaceful days ensued, and though the

daily papers brought intelligence of increased commotion in the cities,

Ladislaus believed that the local storm had passed away. This belief

was shared by the guests. As the doctor had announced that Pani

Krzycki's departure depended upon the first signs of alleviation of her

suffering, Ladislaus determined to take the best advantage he could of

the brief time the young ladies were to remain in Jastrzeb. The

horseback excursions began and unless prevented by rain took place

every morning. They were particularly agreeable to Ladislaus because

Gronski, riding leisurely, kept company with his "adoration," while he

could pass hours alone with Miss Anney. Both were expert riders; they

usually dashed ahead and most frequently disappeared from view in the

distance. At times, they set off at full gallop, and intoxicated

themselves with the mad speed, the air, the sun, and each other. At

other times they rode abreast, slowly, stirrup to stirrup, and then the

silence into which they fell, anxious, full of inexpressible delight,

linked them with ties yet stronger than those with which their

conversation bound them. With a glance Krzycki scanned the figure of

the golden-haired maiden, resembling on horseback the divine Grecian

forms or those on Etruscan vases, and feasted his eyes. He listened to

her voice and it seemed to him that it was music still nearer

perfection than that which poured forth from Marynia's violin. At times

when he assisted her to mount her horse, he had to exert the full

strength of his will to refrain from pressing her foot to his lips and

forehead. And often he thought that if he ever dared to do so, he would

desire to remain in that position as long as possible. To this feminine

being all his thoughts were impelled, and through the might and flight

of his feeling, his desires ceased to be like crawling serpents and

became like winged birds, capable of soaring unto heaven. His love each

day became more like a whirlpool which drags to itself and engulfs

everything. It seemed to Ladislaus that the air, the sun, the fields,

the forests, the meadows, the scent of the trees and flowers, the song

of birds and the evening playing of Marynia,--all these were only some

of the elements of that love which belonged to Miss Anney and entered

into her being and, without her, would be insignificant and without

essence. Moreover, the whirlpool seized him and plunged him more and

more deeply with a power to which each day he offered less resistance,

for the simple reason that the abyss appeared to him to be the abyss of

happiness. Ladislaus now did not surrender her to any Englishman "with

protruding jaw" or any Scot "with bare knees," and would not have given

her up for the whole of England and Scotland. He ceased trying to

persuade himself that this was a type of woman, which he might have

loved and, instead, he confessed to himself sincerely that she was a

woman whom he did love. Love generated in him a bright and determined

will; so now he thought, with the strict logic of feeling, that he

craved to win this, to him, most precious and most desired being, to

take and retain her for his whole life. There was only one road leading

to that: therefore he determined to enter upon it with that heedless

willingness which a man, who desires to be happy, evinces. Sometimes

also a confession quivered upon his lips. He restrained it however and

deferred it from day to day, at first owing to a timidity which every

enamoured heart feels, and again through calculation. For if Love is

blind, it certainly is not so to whatever may bring it benefits. It can

even weigh benefits and obstacles upon such delicate scales that in

this regard it is perhaps the most cautious, the most prescient, and

the shrewdest of human feelings. In fact Ladislaus observed that his

mother and Miss Anney were bound by a sympathy which, on the part of

youth, health, and strength was productive of a certain friendly care,

and on the part of weakness and old age, of gratitude. All three ladies

were solicitous about his mother, but neither the solicitude of Pani

Otocka, nor that of Marynia, was so vigilant or so efficacious as the

watchfulness of Miss Anney. Pani Krzycki candidly said that even

Ladislaus could not move from room to room with such dexterity the

armchair to which temporary disability had riveted her; that he could

not anticipate and humor her wants as could this light-haired "good

English diviner."

To Krzycki, it frequently occurred that certainly this "good diviner"

did all that through kindness and sincere friendship, but also because

she wanted to conciliate his mother. And his heart trembled with joy at

the thought that the moment would arrive when the wishes of his mother

would coincide with that for which he, himself, most strongly yearned.

He feared that a premature avowal might sever the ties which were being

formed and for that reason he checked the word, which often burned his

lips like a flame.

After all, there was an avowal in their silence and glances. Ladislaus

did not dare and, until that time, did not wish to tell her plainly

that he loved her; he wanted, however, with each word to clear the path

and approach that eagerly desired moment. In the meantime it happened

that, either from lack of breath he could not speak at all, or else he

said something entirely different from what he intended to say. Once

when they rode amidst luxuriant winter corn and when a light breeze

bent towards them the rye stalks, together with the red poppy and the

gray fescue-grass, he decided to tell her that all Jastrzeb bowed at

her feet; and he said, with a great beating of his heart, in a hollow

voice not his own, "that in places the grain is lying down." After

which, in his soul, he called himself an idiot and fretted at the

supposition that a similar opinion of him must have crossed her mind.

It seemed to him that she, beyond comparison, exercised a better

self-control and that she could always say just what she wished to say.

Consequently, even at times when partly through coquetry and partly

because of her habit of repeating his expressions like an echo, she

answered, for instance, "that in places the grain is lying down," he

discerned in her words an unheard-of significance and later pondered

over them for hours.

But he also had, particularly in the morning, moments of greater

tranquillity of mind and greater peace, in which his words were not

like a disarrayed rank of soldiers, each one marching in a different

direction. At times, the themes for these quieter conversations were

furnished by some external objects, but oftener by anxiety occasioned

by the impending separation. Krzycki at such times hid behind his

mother and in her name expressed that which he did not dare to say in

his own.

"I can imagine," he said the day following the second visit of the

doctor, "how Mother will long for you."

And the maiden, to whom it evidently occurred that not only the mother

but the son would long for her, looked at him a little teasingly, with

the hazy light of her strange eyes, and replied:

"I am such a bird of flight that your mother will soon become

disaccustomed to me."

"Oh, I warrant you that she will not," exclaimed Ladislaus.

After which, he added:

"I know Mother; she has fallen in love with you immensely."

"Why, hardly ten days have elapsed since we arrived. Is it possible to

fall in love so soon?"

To this Ladislaus replied with deep conviction:

"It is! I give you my word, it is!"

There was something so naive in the manner and tone of the reply that

Miss Anney could not refrain from laughing. But he observed this and

began to speak rapidly as if he wished to explain and justify himself:

"For do we know whence love comes? Often at the first glance of the eye

upon a human face we have such an impression as if we found some one

whom we were seeking. There are certain unalterable forces which

mutually attract people, although before that time they may have never

met and though they had lived far away from each other."

"And must such persons always meet each other?"

"No," he answered, "I think not always. But then perhaps they are

continually yearning, not knowing for what, and feel an eternal vacuity

in life."

And here, in spite of his will, the sincere poetry of youth and

sentiment spoke through his lips:

"You called yourself a bird of flight," he said. "Beloved also is that

bird, only not as a bird which flies away but rather as a bird which

flies hitherward. For it flies unexpectedly from somewhere in the

distance--from beyond the mountains, from beyond the sea, and nests in

the heart, and begins to sing such a song that one hearing it would

fain close his eyes and never waken again."

And thus he spoke until he grew pale from emotion. For a time he was

agitated, like a whirlwind, by the desire to dismount from his horse

and embrace the feet of the maiden with his arms and cry: "Thou art

that beloved one: therefore do not fly away, my dear bird!" But

simultaneously he was seized by a prodigious fear of that night which

would encompass him if his entreaty should prove futile.

So he merely uncovered his head, as if he wanted to display his heated

forehead. A long silence, which fell between them, was only interrupted

by the snorting of the horses, which now proceeded in an ambling pace,

emitting under the bridles a white foam.

After which Miss Anney spoke in a subdued voice which sounded a little

like a warning:

"I hear Pan Gronski approaching with Marynia."

In fact the other couple soon approached, happy and animated. Marynia,

a few paces away, exclaimed:

"Pan Gronski was telling me such beautiful things about Rome. I am

sorry that you did not hear them."

"More about the neighborhood of Rome, than Rome itself," said Gronski.

"Yes. I was in Tivoli. I was in Castel Gandolfo, in Nemi. Wonders! I

will tease Zosia until in truth we will go there and Pan Gronski with

us."

"Will you take me along?" asked Miss Anney.

"Of course! We will all go in the autumn or next spring. Did you folks

also talk about a trip?"

For a time there was no response.

"No," Miss Anney finally replied. "We were talking about birds of

flight."

"Why, now it is spring and birds do not fly away."

"Nevertheless, you ladies are making preparations for flying away,"

answered Ladislaus with a sigh.

"True," rejoined Marynia; "but that is because Aunt is going away; and

she"--here she pointed at Miss Anney with her riding whip--"has urged

us all three to go where the doctor is sending Aunt."

After which she said to Ladislaus:

"You would not believe, sir, how honest she is and how she loves Aunt."

"I, not believe? I?" cried Ladislaus with ardor.

But Miss Anney, who a short time before had asked him whether one could

fall in love so soon, became greatly confused and, dropping the reins,

began with both hands to set something right on her hat, wishing to

cover with them her countenance which glowed like the dawn.

Ladislaus had heaven in his heart, and Marynia, for some time, gazed

with her pellucid eyes, now at him and then at Miss Anney, for it was

no secret to her that Krzycki was in love up to his ears, and this

aroused her curiosity and amused her indescribably.