I went towards evening to say good-by to Mrs. Davis, and dropped in
for a regular concert. Laura seems really very fond of music. Miss
Hilst was playing on the harmonium. I always like to see her, but
especially when she sits down to the harmonium, and playing the
prelude, keeps her eyes on the keys. There is so much earnestness and
intentness in her face, combined with calmness. She reminds me of
Saint Cecilia, the most sympathetic of all saints, with whom I should
have fallen in love had she lived in our times. A pity Clara is so
tall; but one forgets it when she is playing. From time to time she
lifts her eyes, as if recalling to memory a note heard somewhere in
the spheres, or seeking inspiration, and she herself looks like
one inspired. She rightly bears the name of Clara, for it would be
difficult to find a more transparent soul. I said I liked to see her;
as to her music, it is still the same; I do not understand it,
or rather I follow her meaning with the greatest difficulty.
Nevertheless, in spite of my satirical remarks, I think she has a
remarkable talent.
When she had finished I approached her, and still half jestingly said
the time had come and I was ready to escort her to Warsaw according
to our agreement. I was surprised to see her take my proposition so
seriously. She said that she had wanted to go there for some time, and
was quite ready; it was all a question of informing an old relative
who always went with her, and of taking a dumb piano, as she practised
even on her journeys.
The prospect began to alarm me somewhat. If she goes, I shall have to
help her in getting up a concert; and I would rather go straight on to
Ploszow. As a last resource I could hand her over to Sniatynski,
who would be more useful to her than I. Besides, Miss Hilst is the
daughter of a rich mill-owner at Frankfurt, and it is not a question
of material success with her. The eagerness with which she agreed to
the journey made me thoughtful. I had half a mind to tell her that I
did not object to the dumb piano so much as to the elderly relative.
Men are so prone to lie in wait for women that few approach a young
and pretty one without an after-thought. As to myself, though wholly
absorbed by something else, the idea of the old relative travelling
with us was unpleasant, the more so as my person evidently plays some
part in this so quickly arranged journey. Paris presents a far wider
scope for her musical talent, and she does not care for gain; why
should she be so anxious to go to Warsaw? Laura, as I have said, has
hinted more than once that Miss Hilst has more than a liking for me. A
strange woman, Laura! Clara's innocence excites her envy, but only as
it might be excited by a beautiful jewel, or by rare lace,--with her
it is merely a question of adornment. Maybe for that reason she would
like to push that big child into my arms. She does not care for me any
longer; I am an ornament she has worn already.
That woman, though unconsciously, has wrought me such irreparable harm
that I ought to hate her, but cannot,--first, because I am conscious
that, had she never crossed my path, I should have probably found some
other means to wreck my happiness; secondly, as Satan is a fallen
angel, so hatred is degenerated love, and I never loved Laura. There
is a little contempt for her, a little dislike, and she returns the
feeling undoubtedly a hundredfold.
As to Clara's feelings, Laura may be right. To-day I saw it clearer
than ever. If that be the case, I am grateful to her. For the first
time in my life I long for the pure friendship of a woman. A soul so
restless as mine will find solace and comfort in such a friendship.
We conversed together to-day, Clara and I, like old friends. Her
intelligence is not large, but clear and discerning between bad and
good, ugly and what she considers beautiful; consequently her judgment
is not shifty, but calm and serene. She has that kind of spiritual
healthiness often met with in Germans. Coming across them now and
then I observe that the type I belong to is very rare among them. The
Germans and the English are generally positive and know what they
want. They too are sounding the fathomless depth of doubt, but they
do it methodically as scientists, not as sensitive geniuses without
portfolio like me; in consequence of which their recent transcendental
philosophy, their present scientific pessimism, and their poetic
_Weltschmerz_ have only a theoretical meaning. Their everyday practice
consists in adapting themselves to the rules of life. According to
Hartmann, the more humanity gains in intensity and consciousness.
The more unhappy it grows. The same Hartmann, with the calmness of a
German _Cultur-träger_, becomes practical when he raises his voice
in favor of suppressing the Polish element as detrimental to German
supremacy. But, putting aside this incident, which belongs to the
category of human villanies, Germans do not take theories seriously,
and therefore are always calm and capable of action. This same
calmness Clara possesses. Things which rend and trouble human souls
must have come near her some time or other, but if so they left no
trace and were not absorbed by her; thus she never lost faith in
truth and in her art. If she has any deeper feeling for me than mere
friendship, the feeling is unconscious and does not ask for anything
in return. If it were otherwise, it would be the beginning of her
tragedy, as I could not return her love and might make her unhappy. I
am not so conceited as to think that no woman could resist me, but I
am of the opinion that no woman can resist the man she truly loves.
It is a trite saying that "a fortress besieged is a fortress
surrendered," but there is some truth in it when adapted to woman,
especially when behind the entrenchment of her virtues she harbors
such a traitor as her own heart. But Clara may rest tranquil. We shall
travel peacefully together: she, her old relative, myself, and the
dumb piano.