VII

A few days later, the old notary, Dzwonkowski, and Dr. Szremski came to

visit Gronski. The latter, to whom this was an agreeable surprise, as

he liked both, and, besides, esteemed the doctor highly, greeted them

with great cordiality and began to ask the news of the city, the

vicinity, and of themselves.

"Ha! We live, we live," answered the boisterous doctor. "In these

times, that is an art. But the police so far have not arrested us, the

bandits have not shot us, the socialists have not blown us up into the

air; so we not only live, but have come to Warsaw. I, because I must

ride farther,--as far as Volhynia, and this gentleman," pointing to the

notary, "on account of the concert and Panna Marynia's participation in

it. Having read of it in the daily newspapers he fell into such a state

that at any moment I looked for an attack of apoplexy or aneurism.

There was no help for it. I had to prescribe a stay in Warsaw as a

cure. Finally, he cannot at all endure our little town any more, and is

thinking only of giving up his office to some one and of moving here

permanently. In his heart a fire is burning, and the snow melts, and

ice melts and so forth. Ha!"

During these words, the old notary moved his jaws so furiously that his

chin almost touched his nose; finally he declared:

"The head splits! The head splits!"

"The same old quarrel?" asked Gronski, laughing.

"Quarrel?" repeated the notary. "It is not I who quarrel. He has shaken

up my brain, shattered my nerves, stupefied me, torn to pieces,

exhausted, cleaned out, sucked, and outtalked the remnants of strength

within me. From yesterday, sir, on the whole road--a continual din and

roar in the ears--and after that in the hotel; to-day, since morning,

and now here. No, I cannot stand it, no, I cannot!"

"Tut, tut. And who daily summons me? Who every day hangs out his tongue

until it reaches the first button on his vest and orders me to examine

it? Wait, sir. I will ride away and you will have to examine it

yourself before a mirror."

"Then you are really going to Volhynia? How about your patients?" asked

Gronski.

"I fear that in the meantime they may get well; but it can't be helped,

I must go!"

"And for how long?"

"I do not know, but do not think very long. I am a Volhynian Mazur,

from the minor nobility of that place, or as they say there of the

single-manor nobles. They are mostly settled there as tenants of

various petty nobles, but I have my own seat in partnership with a

brother, an ex-judge, who has charge of the estate and to whom I am now

riding."

"But, of course, not because he is sick?"

"Certainly, sir; he has become insane."

"My God! Since when?"

"Not long ago. From the time he became a 'local rights' man.'"

"Ah."

"That is so. The indigent, haughty noble took a notion to pose as a

landed proprietor, hankered after the society of gentlemen, and got

water on the brain. A month ago I sent him two thousand primers for our

impoverished shabby gentility, of whom no one thinks and who

involuntarily or rather in spite of their will, are there losing their

Polish spirit. And would you believe it, sir, that he sent back to me

the whole package, together with a letter in which he announced that he

would not distribute the primers."

"Why?" asked Gronski, whom the narrative of the doctor began to

interest.

"He wrote to me in the first place that they have decided to live and

labor only for their own province and occupy themselves only with local

or provincial affairs, and again they aim at some kind of synthesis of

all nationalities, and thirdly they will Polonize nobody."

"But you were only concerned about primers for the children of the

petty nobility, who are Polish."

"By them this is already styled Polonization, for it interferes with

their 'synthesis.' We know in what that synthesis must end. May the

devils take them, together with their diplomacy. But that is not

enough! In the end, my ingenious brother informs me that he does not

regard himself as a Pole, but only as a Volhynian with Polish culture

and that this is his political position. Ah, sir, Stanczyk was wrong

when he said that in Poland there are the most doctors. In Poland there

are the most politicians. Every average Pole is a second Talleyrand, a

second Metternich, a second Bismarck. He never participated in

political life, is unacquainted with history, never passed through any

schools, and never studied. That is nothing! He is by grace of God! He

from nature has a pastille in his brain, of which he thinks that if he

only lights it, then all the horse-flies and gnats, which suck our

blood will be so hoaxed that they will cease to molest us. And every

one is convinced that he alone sees clearly, that he alone has the

exclusive measures, and that his diplomacy, county, local, provincial,

or whatever you may call it, is a panacea. It never occurs to him, that

with such county or local polities, this fatherland, as Yan Casimir

said, would go into direptium gentium."

"Sir," said the aged notary to Gronski, pointing to the doctor, "you

have pressed in him such a button, that now he will not stop talking

until we shall not be able to move hand or limb."

"That is not a button, that is a sore," answered Gronski.

And evidently it was a sore for the doctor, as he was so absorbed that

he did not hear what was said about him, and began the following

dialogue with his absent brother.

"Ah! So you are not a Pole but only a Volhynian with Polish culture?

Very well! Then, in the first place I will tell you that you have

repudiated your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather; that you

have spat upon their graves; that you have renounced your traditions,

your right of existence, that you have grown smaller, that you have

deserted your own people and have gone to those who do not want you,

who do not invite you and who treat you with contempt; that you hang in

the air and you will look prettily under such conditions in your

Volhynia. Again, I will tell you that you are not yet a turncoat, since

that which you are doing, you do through stupid politics which in

consequence of your ignorance you regard as wise, but you have paved

the way for future turncoats. Your grandson or great-grandson will

renounce Polish culture. And finally, if you say that you are not a

Pole, but only a Volhynian, why do you not go back farther, even as far

as Darwin? You could with equal justice say that you are not a Pole,

but an orang-outang or a pithecanthrope with Polish culture? What? Bah!

But you still say that you do not want to Polonize any one? How can you

Polonize? Whether with a whip, with prison, by religious compulsion,

with school, or with a gag on the native tongue? Tell me! But, if not

denying your nationality you would shine with the example of your

public Polish virtues, if you would give someone your Polish hunger for

liberty, your Polish ability to understand the sufferings of others,

your Polish love, your Polish hope, your faith in a better future, and

through these reconcile him to Poland, then would you regard such a

Polonization as premature, and bad politics? But in such case, I ask

you, you dunce, have you anything better to offer, and why are you

staying there where you settled? You don't know? And in the end you

will not even know who you are. That I will tell you. You, Brother, are

a weak character and above all have a weak head."

Here he turned to Gronski:

"This is what I have to say to my brother and why I am riding to him.

There is to be some kind of an assembly there, so I will say this, in

other words, publicly."

"If you would only go as quickly as possible," exclaimed the notary.

And the doctor began to laugh.

"But as I have yet time, I will first attend Panna Marynia's concert."

"By all means," said Gronski, "ride, sir. Poland is not only being cut

from the outside by inimical scissors, but she is beginning to be rent

asunder internally. Ride, sir, and tell them that publicly. Perhaps

some may be found who will be frightened at their amenableness to the

future."

"I think that such will be found. For, in the main, I assume that they,

or at least a majority of them, thus far feel in the old way, and only

speak as they do in order to loosen, even though for a moment, the

noose which presses on their throats. But in this they are mistaken.

The result will be that they will be despised and trampled upon, both

from above and below."

"When are you going?"

"The assembly meets in about ten days, so I actually will stay here

about a week, for I have various matters to attend to in Warsaw. In the

meantime, I will visit my acquaintances, and among others Pani Otocka,

and the Krzyckis. How is Krzycki?"

"As well as a fish--and he is going to marry."

"Well, well. I will wager that it is with that beautiful Englishwoman?

A pure flower!"

"Yes. But it seems that this is not an English flower, only genuinely

Polish, from a village meadow."

"For the Lord's sake. What are you saying?"

"That is no longer any secret. Her name is Hanka Skibianka."

Here Gronski related the whole history of Miss Anney, omitting only

that Ladislaus knew her while she was Hanka.

And they listened with astonishment, while the doctor slapped his knees

with his palms and cried:

"Ah! If I had known that; ah, if I had known that!"

"Well, what would have happened? asked the notary testily.

"What would have happened? I would have been in love with her not only

under the ears but above. As it was, I only missed by a hair being in

love with her. Ah, lucky but undeserving Krzycki! But such is my

ill-luck. Let only one catch my fancy--lackaday! either some one takes

her, or she is in love with somebody else. But it cannot be helped! I

must see Miss Anney and tender her my best wishes. For after all

Krzycki is a good boy. Such as he will not rebuild Poland, but a good

boy, nevertheless. And such a comely rascal, that he ravishes the eye.

I would like to see them together. That will be a couple--what!"

"If you wish to see them, and have the time," said Gronski, "then it

will not be difficult, for we arranged yesterday at Pani Otocka's that

to-day we will all be present at the rehearsal for the concert. I can

take you gentlemen to-day to the rehearsal, and afterwards, the whole

party can go to breakfast."

"Exactly," exclaimed the notary, "that is just what I came to ask you

to do. I have dropped out of the old relations and I did not know to

whom to apply--well!"

Gronski glanced at his watch.

"If that is the case, all right; but we have still time. In the hall at

this moment there is some kind of meeting or lecture, and such meetings

usually drag beyond the designated time. After that, before they

ventilate the hall and replace the chairs, a half hour will elapse. I

have not omitted any rehearsal, so I know how things go."

"And I will not omit any," said the notary.

Nevertheless, he grew so impatient that they left too early. Before the

building stood about a dozen persons, evidently waiting for those in

the hall; while from within there reached them a buzzing noise, at

times shouts, applause, and the sound of the stamping of feet.

"What kind of meeting is it?" asked the doctor.

"Really, I do not know," answered Gronski. "Now we are full of that.

There are political meetings, social conferences, literary lectures,

and God knows what else."

"I envy Warsaw," exclaimed the doctor.

"There is not much to envy. At times it chances that something deserves

attention, but oftener such absurdities take place that one feels

ashamed."

"Oh, they are already leaving," observed the notary; "but why are they

shouting so?"

"Let us wait; that is some kind of a brawl," said Gronski.

In fact it evidently was a brawl, for from the roomy vestibule there

rushed out on the wide stairs between ten, and twenty men, without caps

or hats, who in the twinkling of an eye, formed a disorderly heap. In

this heap, hands, canes, and umbrellas moved violently, and these

motions were accompanied by a shrill shriek. Afterwards from the

gyrating mob, shoved by tens of arms, shot out, as if from a sling,

somebody, with bare head and tattered coat, who, leaping from the

stairs, turned a somersault at the doctor's feet in such a manner as

almost to tumble him and the notary on the ground.

"Swidwicki!" exclaimed Gronski with astonishment.

Swidwicki rose, and shaking his fist menacingly at the crowd, which,

having ejected him outdoors, was again returning to the hall, began to

say with a panting voice:

"Ah, it is you! They have warmed my hide--they have warmed my hide!

They have broken my ribs a little, and torn my coat. But that is

nothing! I also have crooked a few straight noses and have straightened

out a few crooked ones. This is the second time that this has happened

to me--ouch!"

"Come with me. You cannot stay thus, with bare head and in such a

coat."

"No, no!" answered Swidwicki. "Ouch! Let me recover my breath. Hey!

Messenger!"

And beckoning to a messenger, he said to him:

"Citizen! Here are two pieces of coin and a wardrobe check. Go to the

vestibule and fetch me my hat and topcoat."

"But for the Lord's sake what happened?"

"Directly, directly," said Swidwicki; "but let me first dress. After

that we will go to some confectioner's shop--ouch! For as soon as the

meeting closes, they will begin to go out and, finding me here, they

will be ready to administer a new drubbing to me and to you gentlemen

to boot."

"So that was a meeting?"

"A meeting, conference, discussion, lecture--whatever you wish. Panna

Sicklawer spoke on 'Imparting knowledge.' On the platform sat Pan

Citronenduft, Panna Bywalkiewicz, Panna Anserowicz, Panna Kostropacka,

the editor Czubacki, and others. The hall was packed to suffocation.

Ouch! I enjoyed myself like a king."

"We see," observed Gronski.

"You think not? But introduce me to these gentlemen. For I am the hero

of the day."

"Hero Swidwicki, gentlemen; Notary Dzwonkowski and Dr. Szremski," said

Gronski.

Swidwicki squeezed the palms of Gronski's astonished companions; after

which when the messenger brought the hat, cane, and top-coat he dressed

himself and said:

"With this cane I would be ready to wait for them here--but for to-day

I have had enough. The meeting will last twenty minutes or longer. Let

us go to some confectioner's shop, for I feel a pain in my legs and

cannot stand."

They went to a confectioner's. Swidwicki ordered for himself one and

then a second glass of cognac, after which he began to talk:

"That was an instructive meeting. Panna Sicklawer, I tell you

gentlemen, is a Cicero in petticoats. When she started to impart

knowledge to various meek creatures of the masculine gender and various

magpies of fourteen years, of whom the audience mainly consisted, even

I grew warm. The meek creatures applauded or else cried 'shame' when

there was a talk of parents, and the magpies blushed so violently and

fidgeted in their seats so much, that they seemed to sit on needles,

and everything went along smoothly. Remarks were made by Pan

Citronenduft, Panna Gotower and some maid, a native of far away Kars,

whose name as well as I could hear it, had a Grecian or Spanish

sound,--Nieodtego. The maturer portion of the auditors was also carried

away by the enthusiasm, and I, though Gronski doubts it, enjoyed myself

like a king. For you see, gentlemen, that I, from principle, have

nothing against imparting knowledge,--nothing. Quite the reverse! Only,

I am of the opinion, if an affair is to be jolly let it be really

jolly. So then, after a few addresses, I rose, asked leave to speak and

announced that I desired to recite a poem in honor of the gathering.

They agreed to it and I received applause in advance. Then I began to

declaim--indeed, not an original poem, but my own parody on the fable:

'Once wanton little Thad.' But this did not continue long; it appeared

that my Thaddy proved himself to be so wanton, that he was too wanton,

even for them. They did not like also this; that in staring at Panna

Nieodtego, I closed one eye. They began to shout 'Silence!' 'Fie!'

'Away with him! This is jeering!' And here my ideal fable began to

change into a real epic. For when in reply to the shout 'This is

jeering,' I said, 'Well what did you think it was?' there was a

universal roar of 'Put him out!' At least fifty hands grappled my

shoulders and neck; a nice rumpus followed. They struck me, I struck

back. Finally, they dumped me into the corridor: from the corridor on

to the stairs, and into the street. The rest you gentlemen know. I

repeat for the third time that I enjoyed myself like a king."

"That to me is at least courage," said the doctor; "it is necessary to

stop such things, even by a scandal; so you did well, sir; you are a

brave nationalist."

"I, a nationalist," exclaimed Swidwicki, "why, the day before yesterday

I was thrown out of a meeting of the National Democrats. Indeed, a

little more politely, but I was ejected."

Gronski began to laugh.

"So this is your new sport?"

But with this their conversation ended as their attention was attracted

by the crowd returning from the lecture. Before the window flowed a

black human stream, among which were a large number of striplings, and

young girls with cheeks covered with blushes.

When the stream finally passed by, there appeared after an interval the

bright, vernal forms of Hanka, Marynia, and Pani Otocka, in the company

of Krzycki.