VI

Gronski, who by nature was very obliging and devoted to his friends,

was at the same time a man of ample means and high culture; in

consequence of which Ladislaus found in his home not only such care as

sincere good will alone can bestow, and comforts, but also various

things which were lacking in Jastrzeb. He found, especially, books, a

few paintings, engravings, and various small objects of vertu;

moreover, the residence was spacious, well-ventilated, and not

over-crowded with unnecessary articles. Thanks to the host a highly

intellectual and esthetic atmosphere prevailed, in which the young heir

felt indeed smaller and less self-confident than in Jastrzeb, but which

he breathed with pleasure. He was seized, however, with a fear that by

a lengthy stay he would cause his older friend trouble, and on the

following evening he began to argue with Gronski about going to a

hotel.

"Even the doctor considers me well," he said. "The best proof of it is

that he permits me to go about the city in three days."

"I heard something about five," answered Gronski.

"But that was yesterday; so, not counting to-day, three remain. You

have your habits which you must not change on my account. It is indeed

a pleasure to look at all these things; so I will come here, but it is

one thing to visit you for an hour, or even two, and another to

introduce confusion into your mode of life."

"I will only say this," answered Gronski, "Pani Otocka and Panna

Marynia regard me as an old bachelor and promised to make a call

to-morrow, or the day after, as they have often done before, in the

company of Miss Anney. Do you see that armchair? On it, during the

music-playing, sat your light-haired beauty. Go, go to the hotel, and

we will see who, besides your mother, will visit you."

"You are too good."

"I am an old egotist. You see that I have a few old household effects,

which, during the course of my life, I have collected; but one thing,

though I were as rich as Morgan and Jay Gould combined, I can

unfortunately never buy, and that is youth. And you have so much of it

that you could establish a bank and issue stock. From you rays plainly

emanate. Let them illuminate and warm me a little. In other words, do

not worry, and keep quiet if you are comfortable here with me."

"I only do not desire to be spoiled by too much attention, for,

speaking sincerely, I feel I am strong enough now."

"So much the better. Thank God, Miss Anney, and the doctor that the

journey did not injure you. That is what I feared a little."

"It did not hurt me, neither did it help."

"How is that?"

"Because I had a hope that on the road I could tell my bright queen

that which I hid in my soul, but in the meantime it developed that this

was a foolish hope. We sat in the compartment like herrings. The doctor

hung over me continually, like a hangman over a good soul, and there

was not a chance, even for a moment."

"Never, never make any avowals in a railway car, for in the rumble and

noise the most pathetic passages are lost. Finally, as Laskowicz has

not dispatched you to the other world, you will easily find an

opportunity."

"Do you really think that it was the work of Laskowicz?"

"No. But if ever I should ascertain that it was he, I would not be much

surprised; for such a situation, in which one could gratify self and

serve a good cause, occurs rarely."

"How gratify self and serve a good cause?"

"Good in his judgment. Do you not live from human sweat and blood?"

"That is very true. But why should my death afford him any

gratification personally?"

"Because he has conceived a hatred for you; has fallen in love with

some one and regards you as a rival."

Hearing this, Ladislaus jumped up as if scalded.

"What, would he dare?"

"I assure you that he would dare," replied Gronski quietly, "only he

made a mistake. But that he is not wanting in courage he gave proofs

when he wrote an avowal of love to Marynia."

Ladislaus opened wide his eyes and began to wink:

"What was that?"

"I did not want to speak to you about it in Jastrzeb, as at that time

you often drove to the city. I feared that you might meet him and might

start a disagreeable brawl. But at present I can tell you every thing;

Laskowicz has fallen in love with Marynia and wrote a letter to her,

which of course remained unanswered."

"And he thought that I also am in love with Marynia."

"Permit me; that would not be anything extraordinary. He might have

overheard something. Whoever is in love usually imagines that every one

is reaching after the object of his love. Understand that Laskowicz did

not confide in me, but that is my hypothesis which, if it is erroneous,

so much the better for Laskowicz. The party sent you a death sentence

in consequence of his reports and this was working in his hand for

personal reasons. After all, he may not have participated personally in

the attempt--"

"Did you see him after that letter?"

"How could I see him, since he wrote after his departure. But it was

lucky that I advised Pani Otocka to burn that lucubration, for if the

letter had been found during the search at Jastrzeb, you can readily

understand what inferences the acuteness of the police might have

drawn."

Anger glittered in Ladislaus' eyes.

"I prefer that Miss Anney be not involved," he said; "nevertheless I

would not advise Laskowicz to meet me. That such a baboon, as Dolhanski

says, should dare to lift his eyes to our female relative in our home

and, in addition thereto, write to her--this I regard plainly as an

insult which I cannot forgive."

"In all probability you will never meet him; so you will not move a

finger."

"I? Then you do not know me. Why not?"

"Among other reasons, out of consideration for our pleasant situation.

Consider; duels they will not accept and in this they are right. What

then? Will you cudgel him with a cane or pull his ears?"

"That is quite possible."

"Wait! In the first place there was nothing in the letter resembling an

insult and, again, what further? The police would take you both into

custody, and there they would discover that they had caught Laskowicz,

a revolutionary bird, whom they have been seeking for a long time and

would send him to Siberia, or even hang him. Can you take anything like

that upon your conscience?"

"May the deuce take these times," cried Ladislaus. "A man is always in

a situation from which there is no escape."

"As is usual between two anarchies," answered Gronski. "After all, this

is a slight illustration."

Further conversation was stopped by the entrance of a servant who

handed to Gronski a visiting card and he, glancing at it, said:

"Ask him to step in."

Afterwards he asked Ladislaus:

"Do you know Swidwicki?"

"I have heard the name, but am not acquainted with the man."

"He is a relative of Pani Otocka's deceased husband. A very peculiar

figure."

At that moment Swidwicki entered the room. He was a man of forty years,

bald, tall, lean, with an intelligent and sour face, and at the same

time impudent. He was attired carelessly in a suit which appeared to

fit him too loosely. He had, however, something which betrayed his

connection with the higher social spheres.

"How is Swidwa?" Gronski began.

After which he introduced him to Ladislaus and continued:

"What has happened to you? I have not seen you for an age."

"Why, you were out of the city."

"Yes; but before that time you did not show up for a month."

"In my old age I have become an anchorite."

"Why?"

"Because I am wearied by the folly of men who pass for reasonable

beings and by the malice of men who pose as good. Finally, I now roam

all over the streets from morning until night. Ah! There exist 'Attic

Nights,' 'Florentine Nights,' and I have a desire to write about

'Warsaw Days.' Delightful days! Titles of the separate chapters 'Hands

up! The Rabble on Top.' 'Away with the Geese.' Do you know that at this

moment there are so many troops patrolling the streets that any one

else in my place would have been arrested ten times."

"I know, but how do you manage to avoid it?"

"I walk everywhere as peacefully as if in my own rooms. The way I do it

is simple. As often as I am not drunk, I pretend to be drunk. You would

not believe what sympathy and respect an intoxicated person commands.

And in my opinion this is but just, for whoever is 'under the

influence' from morning till night is innocent and well thinking; upon

him the so-called social order can rely with confidence."

"Surely. But the social order which depended upon such people would not

stand upon steady legs."

"Who, to-day, does stand on steady legs? Doctrines intoxicate more than

alcohol--therefore at this moment all are drunk. The empire is

staggering, the revolution is reeling, the parties are floundering, and

a third person stands on the side and looks on. Soon all will tumble to

the ground. Then there will be order, and may it come as soon as

possible."

"You ought to be that third person."

"The third person is the German and we are fools. We begin by falling

to loggerheads, and have reached such a state that the only salvation

for our social soul would be a decent civil war."

Here he became silent and after a while turned to Ladislaus.

"I see that your eyes are wide open, but nevertheless it is so. A civil

war is a superb thing. Nothing like it to clarify the situation and

purify the atmosphere. But to be led to such a situation and not to be

able to create it is the acme of misfortune or folly."

"I confess that I do not understand," said Ladislaus.

Gronski motioned with his hand and remarked:

"Do not attempt to, for after every fifteen minutes of conversation you

will not know what is black and what is white and your head will swim,

or you will get a fever, which as a wounded man you should try to

avoid."

"True," said Swidwicki, "I had heard and even read in some newspaper of

the occurrence and paid close attention to it because in your home Pan

Gronski and Pani Otocka with her sister were being entertained. I am a

relative of the late aged Otocka. Those women must have been scared.

But if they think that they are safer here in the city they are

mistaken."

"Judging from what can be seen, it is really no safer here. Have you

seen those ladies yet?"

"No, I do not like to go there."

At this, Ladislaus, who by nature was impetuous and bold, frowned, and

looking Swidwicki in the eyes, replied:

"I do not ask the reason, for that does not interest me, but I give you

warning that they are my relatives."

"Whose cause a young knight would have to champion," answered

Swidwicki, gazing at Ladislaus. "Ah, no! If I had any intention of

saying anything against the ladies I would not say it, as Gronski would

throw me down the stairs and I have a favor to ask of him. What I said

is the highest praise for them and simply gall and wormwood for me."

"Beg pardon, again; I do not understand."

"For you see that for the average Pole to have respect for any one and

not to be able to sharpen his teeth upon him is always annoying. I

cannot speak of the ladies as I would wish, that is, disparagingly. I

cannot endure ideal women; besides that, whenever it happens that I

pass an evening with them, I become a more decent man and that is a

luxury which in these times we cannot afford."

Ladislaus began to laugh and Gronski said:

"I told you that surely your head would swim."

After which to Swidwicki:

"If he should get any worse, I will induce him to send the doctor's and

apothecary's bill to you."

"If that is the case, I will go," answered Swidwicki, "but you had

better come with me into another room for I have some business with you

which I prefer to discuss without witnesses."

And, taking leave of Ladislaus, he stepped out. Gronski accompanied him

to the ante-room and after a while returned, shrugging his shoulders:

"What a strange gentleman," said Ladislaus. "I hope I am not

indiscreet, but did he want to borrow any money from you?"

"Worse," answered Gronski. "This time it was a few Falk engravings. I

positively refused as he most frequently returns money or rather he

lets you take it out of his annuity, but books, engravings, and such

things he never gives back."

"Is he making a collection?"

"On the contrary he throws or gives them away; loans or destroys them.

Do I know? You will now have an opportunity of meeting him oftener, for

though I refused to loan them, I permitted him to come here to look

over and study them. He undoubtedly is writing a book about Falk."

"Ah, so he is a literary man."

"He might have been one. As you will meet him, I must warn you a little

against him. I will describe him briefly. He is a man to whom the Lord

gave a good name, a large estate, good looks, great ability, and a good

heart, and he has succeeded in wasting them all."

"Even a good heart?"

"Inasmuch as he is a rather pernicious person, it is better that he

does not write. For you see that it may happen that somebody's brains

decay, just as with people, sick with consumption, their lungs decay.

But no one has the right to feed the nation with the putrefaction of

his lungs or his brains. And there are many like him. He does not act

for the public weal but merely for his own private affairs. Do you know

how he accounts for not accomplishing anything in his life? In this

way: that to do so one must believe and to believe it is necessary to

have a certain amount of stupidity which he does not possess. I am not

speaking now of religious matters. He simply does not believe that

anything can be true or false, just or unjust, good or bad. But Balzac

wisely says: 'Qui dit doute, dit impuissance.' Swidwicki is irritated

and filled with bitterness by the fact that he is not anything;

therefore he saves himself by paradoxes and turns intellectual

somersaults. I once saw a clown who amused the public by giving his cap

various strange and ridiculous shapes. Swidwicki does the same with

truth and logic. He is also a clown, but an embittered and spiteful

one. For this reason he always holds an opinion opposite to that of the

person with whom he is speaking. This happens particularly when he is

drunk, and he gets drunk every night. Then to a patriot he will say

that fatherland is folly; in the presence of a believer he will scoff

at faith; to a conservative he will say that only anarchy and

revolution are worth anything; to the socialist that the proletariat

have 'snouts.' I have heard how he thus expressed himself, and only for

this reason, that he, 'a superman,' might have something to hit at when

the notion seizes him. And thus it is always. In discussion he shines

with paradoxes, but sometimes it chances that he says something

striking because in all criticism there is some justice. If you wish, I

will arrange such a spectacle, though for me he has a certain regard,

firstly, because he likes me, and again because I have rendered him a

few services in life. He promised to repay me with black ingratitude,

but in the meantime he does not molest me with such energy as the

others."

"And no one has yet broken his bones," observed Ladislaus.

"He does not, in the least, retreat from that. He himself seeks trouble

and there is not a year in which he does not provoke some encounter."

"In the taverns?"

"Not only there. For belonging by name and family connections to the so

called higher walks of life, he has many acquaintances there. Two years

ago, indeed, the artists gave him a good cudgelling in a tavern; and,

for instance, Dolhanski (their dislike is mutual) shot him last spring

in a duel."

"Ah, that was when I heard his name; now I remember."

"Perhaps you heard it before, for previously he had a few affairs about

women, as, in addition, he is a great ladies' man. Finally he is an

unbridled rogue."

"As to women? or up to date?"

"He is not an old man. For some time he has been in the state where he

likes not ladies but their maids. Fancy that not long ago he was so

smitten with Miss Anney's maid,--the same brunette who nursed you a

little in Jastrzeb,--that for a time he was continually dogging her

steps. He said that once she reviled him on the stairway but this

charmed him all the more."

Krzycki at the mention of the brunette who nursed him in Jastrzeb

became so confused that Gronski noticed it, but not knowing what had

passed between him and Pauline, judged that the enamoured youth was

offended at the thought that such an individual as Swidwicki should

bustle about Miss Anney. So desiring to remove the impression, he

remarked:

"He says that he does not like to call upon those ladies, but Pani

Otocka does not welcome him at all with enthusiasm. She receives him

merely out of respect for the memory of her husband, who was his cousin

and who, at one time, was the conservator of his estate. After all, it

is probable that Swidwicki feels out of place among such ladies."

"For microbes do not love a pure atmosphere."

"This much is certain: there is within him 'a moral insanity.' I have

become accustomed to him, but there are certain things in him I cannot

endure. You have no idea of the contemptuous pity, the dislike, and the

downright hatred with which he expresses himself about everything which

is Polish. And here I call a halt. Notwithstanding our good relations,

it almost came to a personal encounter between us. For when he began to

squirt his bilious wit, a certain night, on all Poland, I said to him,

'That lion is not yet dead, and if he dies we know who alone is capable

of kicking at a dying lion.' He did not come here for over a month, but

was I not right? I understand how some great hero, who was repaid with

ingratitude, might speak with bitterness and venom of his country, but

Swidwicki is not a Miltiades or a Themistocles. And such an outpouring

of bile is directly pernicious, for he, with his immensely flashing

intellect, finds imitators and creates a fashion, in consequence of

which various persons who have never done anything for Poland whet

their rusty wits upon this whetstone. I understand criticism, though it

be inexorable, but when it becomes a horse or rather an ass from which

one never dismounts, then it is bad, for it takes away the desire to

live from those who, however, must live--and is vile, because it is

spitting upon society, is often sinful and, above all, unprecedentedly

unfortunate. Pessimism is not reason but a surrogate of reason;

therefore, a cheat, such as the merchant who sells chiccory for coffee.

And such a surrogate you now meet at every step in life and in

literature."

Here Gronski became silent for a while and raised his brows; and

Krzycki said:

"From what you say, I see that Swidwicki is a big ape."

"At times, I think that he is a man incredibly wretched, and for that

reason I did not break off relations with him. Besides he has for me a

kind of attachment and this always disarms one. Finally, I confess

openly that I have the purely Polish weakness, which indulges and

forgives everything in people who amuse us. He at times is very

amusing, especially when in a talking mood and when he is tipsy to a

certain degree."

"But finally, if he does not work but talks, from what does he live?"

"He does not belong to the poor class. Once he was very wealthy; later

he lost a greater portion of his fortune. But in the end the late

Otocki who was a most upright man, and very practical besides, seeing

what was taking place, took the matter in his own hands, saved

considerable and changed the capital into an annuity. From this

Swidwicki receives a few thousand roubles annually, and though he

spends more than he ought to, he has something to live upon. If he did

not drink, he would have a sufficiency: one passion he does not

possess, namely, cards. He says that for cards one must have the

intellect of a negro. From just that arose the encounter with

Dolhanski. But after all, they could not bear each other of old. Both,

as some one had said, are commercial travellers, dealing in cynicism

and competing with each other."

"Between the two, I, however, prefer Dolhanski," said Krzycki.

"Because he amuses you, and Swidwicki has not thus far had the

opportunity. Eternally, it is the same Polish weakness," answered

Gronski.

After a while he added:

"In Dolhanski it is easier to see the bottom."

"And at that bottom, Panna Kajetana."

"At present it may, in truth, be so. Do you know that Dolhanski brought

those ladies with him on the train which followed ours? He told me also

that they would at once pay a visit to your mother and Pani Otocka."

"You will really call upon them to-day?"

"Yes, I call there daily. But as you are not permitted to go out, I

will invite the ladies to come here to-morrow afternoon for tea."

"I thank you most heartily. I am not allowed to go out but I could

drive over."

"My servant told me that by order of the Party a strike of the

hackdrivers will begin to-morrow morning."

"Then how can those ladies ride over here to-morrow?"

"In the private carriages. Unless they are forbidden to ride in

private.--"

"In that case Mother will be unable to see me."

"If it is quiet upon the streets, I will conduct her here and escort

her home. At times it is so that one day the streets are turbulent as

the sea, and the next, still and deserted. In reality it is a relative

security; for whoever goes out to-day in the city cannot feel certain

that he will return. If not these then the others may stick in your

side a knife or a bayonet. But for women it is comparatively safe."

"Under these circumstances, it would be better if my mother did not

visit me at all. I prefer to stay out those three days which Szremski

has imposed upon me, to exposing her or any of those ladies to peril.

Please postpone that 'five o'clock.'"

"Perhaps it will be necessary to do that. But your mother will not

consent to not seeing you for three days. Maybe some one else will

importune me that I should not defer the party."

Ladislaus' face glowed with deep and tender joy.

"Tell Mother that worry about her may harm me and cause a fever, and

tell that other one that I kiss the hem of her dress."

"No. Such things you must say yourself."

"Oh, that I could not only tell her that as soon as possible, but do

it. In the meantime I have a favor to ask of you. Please send your

servant to the city. If he is afraid let him call a messenger. I would

like to send that other one a few flowers."

"Then send also some to your cousins, as otherwise your mother will be

prematurely surprised."

"Surely she would be astonished, for owing to her sickness she saw us

so little together that she could not take in the situation. But soon I

will confess all to her."

"I will only tell you what Pani Otocka said to me. She said this: 'Let

Ladislaus not speak with his mother before his final interview with

Aninka as otherwise he would be unable to tell her everything.'"

Krzycki looked Gronski quickly in the eyes.

"And do you not know what the matter is?"

"You know that I have never been accused of a lack of curiosity,"

answered Gronski, "but I judged that Pani Otocka has sufficient reasons

for remaining silent, and, therefore, I did not question her about

anything."