VIII

Upon the so called "happiest period" in Krzycki's life certain small

shadows fell, and this for various reasons. If on the one hand his love

for Hanka grew with each day, on the other there began various petty

annoyances which his mother had foreseen. They were things almost

imperceptible, about which one could not pick a quarrel, but which

nevertheless stung. Thus it happened that the ladies of Gorek came to

Pani Krzycki to invite her to the wedding of Kajetana to Pan Dolhanski,

which wedding through a special dispensation of the church was to take

place in a few days. Pani Krzycki in tendering them her good wishes

announced that they could also do the same to her, owing to the

betrothal of her son to Miss Anney. Then both, one after the other,

began to heartily embrace her, which, though apparently a sign of their

good wishes, looked more like condolence, the more so as Pani Wlocek

did not utter anything besides the words, "It is God's will," while

Kajetana raised her eyes as piously as if she wanted to supplicate the

Powers on high to comfort the heartbroken mother. Ladislaus laughed

after their departure, but in his soul he wished that both would break

their necks. When, however, a few days later it appeared that out of

the entire circle of acquaintances only Hanka did not receive an

invitation from these ladies, he wanted to start a brawl with

Dolhanski: and his mother was barely able to restrain him with the

declaration that neither she herself, nor Zosia, nor Marynia would

attend the wedding. Krzycki was even angered because some of his

acquaintances, in contrast to the ladies of Gorek, tendered to him

their good wishes with excessive ardor, as if he had performed an

heroic act. His marriage, as well as the antecedents of Hanka, became

the subject of every conversation in "society." Out in the world, great

political changes could take place, bombs could explode, strikes could

break out, but in the salons for a few days only Hanka was spoken of,

various flabby dames, with eyes half closed, in a questioning tone,

drawling through their teeth, "Anka--Skubanka[12]--n'est ce pas?" But

while the good wishes of those who tendered them to Krzycki with such

excessive ardor sprang from appreciation of the heroism with which he

dared to take as wife "Skubanka," Hanka's marriage settlement and the

hope of "plucking" the millionaire in the future played an important

role. This marriage settlement, which, agreeably with Pani Krzycki's

anticipations, was, for local conditions, quite considerable, but by no

means reached the millions, grew in public opinion with almost every

hour, so that it attained almost fabulous proportions, and intensified

the universal curiosity to the extent that when Hanka in the company of

her two young female friends together with Pani Krzycki and her fiance

appeared at the races, all the lorgnettes were directed at their

carriage. The flabby dames from "high life," gazing at her radiant

countenance, sparkling with happiness and health, indeed said that they

could at once surmise that "this is something a little different," and

contended that in the present days this "high life" ought to open its

delicate bosom to a person possessing such means for "doing good." As

to her comeliness, however, the opinion prevailed that she was not

sufficiently pretty for one to lose his head and that Krzycki was

marrying for money. His defence was undertaken only by the ladies from

Gorek, who, meeting now many people, made it everywhere understood that

their young neighbor did not always seek merely money, and that only

when he was disappointed in other fancies, did he come to the

conclusion that it was better to have money than nothing.

Thus did things shape themselves externally. But on the sky of the

betrothed pair appeared tiny clouds which, as Ladislaus' love became

inflamed, appeared even with greater frequency. Hanka, habituated to

English customs, did not at all hesitate to receive her fiance at her

home and pass with him long hours alone; to stroll with him over the

city, to drive from the city without a chaperon, and even call him by

his Christian name. She said to herself that in great and sincere love

there also should be room for friendship and that it was necessary

before one became a wife to be a sincere friend and comrade. She

thought that Ladislaus would understand this and not only would love

her all the more but also cherish her all the more. Once she had read

in an English book that one might love and not cherish, and that in

such a case love grows embittered to the degree that it may become

perpetual unhappiness. So, desiring to avoid this and place her future

life upon immovable foundations, she wished to win, besides love, the

deepest possible friendship.

But here the misunderstandings between the engaged couple began. That

golden-hair, that good friend, gazing with a heavenly light, that

rose-colored, gay comrade who dressed herself in a light dress and

spring hat, was so charming that Ladislaus cherished indeed without

limit, but at every tete-a-tete lost his head. To Hanka it appeared

that her betrothed, though he was enamoured to distraction and at the

same time was a friend, should be the kind of a man upon whose

shoulders she could at every moment press her head with perfect

confidence that he would not abuse her trust and would not take

advantage of their seclusion nor of any temporary weakness, nor of the

gray hour, nor of the fact that love disarms and weakens a woman. He,

on the contrary, perhaps because he lost his head, acted as if he

thought that friendship and the relations of a comrade only added to

the rights of betrothal. From this there was generated a mutual

vigilance; in him a watchfulness for everything of which he might take

advantage; in her a wariness of that which she ought to avoid. This

vigilance, at first silent, soon lapsed into quarrels. They were

followed by apologies, which would have intensified the love of both

were it not that Ladislaus apologized too passionately. And this

misunderstanding was in reality deeper than both thought, for when

Hanka, remembering what once had taken place between them, believed

that he should on that account be more continent, he, in moments when

blinded by desire, seemed to fancy that very past, together with the

burnt bridges, justified him in everything. From these causes, the

enchanted edifice of their happiness from time to time became defaced

and would have been defaced yet more strongly were it not for this,

that in Ladislaus there was material for everything and there came upon

him moments entirely different. Sometimes on clear nights when they sat

on the balcony leading to the garden of Hanka's residence, and when

from the neighboring balcony came the song of Marynia's violin,

and the moonlight seemed to sleep quietly on the opposite walls, it

also put to slumber Ladislaus' senses. His soul, lulled to sleep by

the sight of the beloved being, bleaching like a white angel in the

dusk,--intoxicated with the fragrance of leaves and flowers, winged by

music, was dissolved into a kind of universal but sweet and chaste

feeling, which enveloped Hanka and bore her towards the stars. The

impressionable soul of the girl at such times was susceptible of this

and was simply submerged in happiness.

But these were transitory moments of tranquillity of mind. A moment

later, while Ladislaus was bidding her good-night and when he kissed

her hands and forehead, quickly there was awakened in him the eternal

hungry desire, and he sought her lips and hugged her breast to his own;

he lost his memory, and, when she broke away from his arms, he said

that he did not promise her that he would be an English Quaker; and

they parted, if not angry, as if both were humiliated and sad.

And that sadness fraternized with love.

But it often happened that Ladislaus disarmed Hanka with his great

frankness which in reality was his chief attribute.

"You, my Hanusia," he said to her once, after serious quarrel, "would

want that I should mount a ladder and stay on the highest round, for a

time--Good!--I can! But to stay there forever I could not do any more

than I could walk on stilts all the time. Do not imagine that I am

something more than I am. I am an ordinary mortal, who only differs

from others in this, that he loves you above everything."

"No, Laudie," answered Hanka, "I do not at all desire that you should

be some great personage, for I remember that the Englishmen say that an

honest man is the noblest work of God."

"I did a little mischief once, but I think I am honest."

"Yes, but remember that not he is honest who does not do evil, but he

who does good. In that everything is contained."

"I agree to that. You will teach me that."

"And you me."

"Ha I we will keep house in Jastrzeb and will do all we can. There is

much work to be done there and of the kind for which I am fitted. To be

a good husbandman, to be good to the people, to instruct them; to

teach, love, and enlighten; to be also a good citizen of the country

and in case of necessity to die for it--for this, I give my word I am

fit. Yes, it is so. And now you have me. But taking everything

together, no evil will befall you with me, Hanusia,--I love you too

much for any evil to befall you. Only, my golden one, my love, my rosy

lady, do not command me to sit on the ladder, for that I cannot do."

His simplicity and sincerity propitiated Hanka. The thought of a joint

life in Jastrzeb, of loving the folks whose child she was, of

instructing them, of laboring over and for them, cheered and allured

her more powerfully than anything else could do. To return to Poland

and take charge of a Polish village was the plan which she formulated

immediately after the death of the Anney family. And now just such a

horizon was opened to her by this former "young lord" whom she loved

while yet a simple girl. Therefore she was grateful to him: she was

ready in her soul to exalt his good qualities, to exculpate his faults,

to love him, and to persevere faithfully at his side, but in exchange

she wanted nothing more than that he should love her not only with his

senses, but with a true and chaste love, and that he should regard her

above all things as his life companion, "for better or for worse."

And, for that reason, whenever there came to her moments in which it

seemed to her that he saw in her principally an object for his desires

and was unable to find, in himself strength to struggle with them and

elevate his feelings to noble heights, doubt seized her heart and she

could not resist the thought that he was not such as she would wish him

to be.

"But nevertheless," she consoled herself in her soul, "that is a

sincere and true nature, and where there is sincerity and truth,

everything may be brought to light."

Ladislaus on the contrary was in reality sincere to the degree that one

could see through him--through and through, as though he were made of

glass. The proof of this was the opinion which Dr. Szremski expressed

about him in a conversation with Gronski.

"To me," he said, "the present-day Hanka Skibianka is ten times more

interesting than the former Miss Anney, and I wish her happiness from

my whole soul. But if she bases that happiness upon the feeling which

Krzycki entertains for her, I fear that she will be disappointed. I do

not wish to say anything bad of him. On the contrary, to me he is a

sympathetic type, for he is immensely ours, immensely domestic. If he

had lived a hundred years ago and been a Uhlan, he would have charged

at Samo-Sierra no worse than Kozietulski and Niegolewski. Only he

belongs to that species of men for whom it is easier to die for some

idea or for some feeling than to live for them and to persevere in

them. To turn to one idea or to one feeling, as a magnetic needle turns

to the north, is not within their power nor their concern. They require

distraction, amusement. And there is nothing strange in this. Consider

only that for entire ages nobody was better off than the various

Krzyckis and Gronskis--nobody. So they sucked of the pleasures of life,

like juice of grapes. They ate, drank, played, dissipated--bah! they

even fought for the pleasure of it. They were not vicious nor terrible,

for a happy man cannot be totally vicious. They had in their hearts a

certain feeling of humanity. They were indulgent to people who were

subject to them, but above all things they were indulgent to

themselves. Hence at the bottom of the Polish soul always lies

indulgence. Then came the time of penance and that indulgence by right

of inheritance, particularly in the spheres to which Krzycki belongs,

remains. For him, neither love for woman nor for fatherland will

suffice. He will love them and, in a given case, will perish for them,

but in life he will indulge himself. And you see, sir, that it was just

for this reason that I said that such as he will not rebuild Society."

"And who will?" asked Gronski.

"The future generations--not the pot-bellied, not the easy-natured, not

the chatterboxes, not the indulgers in sensual delights and the

pleasures of life--no--apparently they are good for everything and fit

for nothing--but only the hardy, the persistent, the quiet, and the

practical. For them, misfortune and slavery have tilled the ground for

a hundred years."

"And the present day manures the ground," said Gronski, "only it is a

pity that this manure has such a rank smell."

"That is not manure; that is sand blown from abroad which renders the

soil sterile," replied the doctor with energy.

And he began to curse.