"When the priest had left him I said thus: 'Whether you die or not is
in God's hands! You are nicely prepared now, so lay ye down and go to
sleep.' Says he: 'Very well, little mother,' and fell in a doze, and
I too; as, not reproaching the Lord with it, I had not had a proper
sleep for three nights. At the first crow my old man comes in and
wakes me; thus we were both sitting there, and he still asleep. I says
to the old man: 'Is he gone?' and he says, 'Happen and he is gone.' I
pulled him by the hand; he opened his eyes and said: 'I feel better
now.' Then he remained quite still for about five _paters_ and _aves_,
and smiled toward the ceiling. This made me angry, and I says: 'Oh,
you good-for-nothing, how can you laugh at my misery? But he only
smiled at death, not at my misery, for he began breathing very hard,
and that was all he did until the sun rose."
She began moaning again, and then invited us to come and see the body,
as he was dressed already, and looked as beautiful as a picture.
Aniela wanted to go at once, but I held her back; besides, the woman
had already forgotten all about it, and began now lamenting her
poverty. Her husband, it seems, had been a well-to-do peasant
proprietor, but they had spent every bit of money upon their son's
education. Acre after acre had been bought by the neighbors, and at
present they had nothing but the hut,--no land whatever. One thousand
two hundred roubles he had cost them. They had hoped to find a shelter
for their old age with him at a parsonage, and now God had taken him.
The old woman declared, with all the stoicism of the peasant, that
they had already made their plans, and would go a begging. She seemed
not afraid of it, and spoke of it with a kind of half-concealed
satisfaction. She was only afraid the community might raise
difficulties about the certificate, which, for some reason unknown
to me, seemed to be necessary for the new profession. Hundreds of
realistic details mingled with the calling upon the Lord Jesus, the
Holy Virgin, and laments over the dead son. Aniela went into the
house, and returned presently with some money for the woman. I
arrested her hand; another idea, I thought good at the time, had
crossed my mind.
"So you spent a thousand two hundred roubles on your son?" I said to
the woman.
"That's so, please the gracious Pan. We thought when he got his church
we would go and live with him. The Almighty willed it otherwise; no
church for us now, but the church door" (place where beggars sit).
"I will give you the thousand two hundred roubles; you can buy some
land if you like, and start fresh again."
I should have given it at once, but had not enough money by me; I
intended to take it from my aunt, and told the woman to come back for
it in an hour. She stared at me with wide-open eyes, without saying a
word, and then with a cry fell down at my feet. But I got rid of her
and her gratitude very soon, as she was in a hurry to be off to tell
her husband the good news.
I remained alone with Aniela, who seemed moved deeply, and who
repeated:--
"How good you are! how good you are!"
"There is not much goodness in it," I said in a careless manner. "I
did not do it for these people I have seen for the first time in my
life. I did it because you care for them,--to please you." It was
true; they did not interest me more than any other people would in
the same position, but I would have given ten times as much to please
Aniela. I said it on purpose, as words like these said to a woman
carry a deep meaning. It is almost the same as if I told her, "I would
do anything for you, because you are everything to me." And, moreover,
no woman can defend herself against a tacit confession such as this,
or has any right to be offended. I had disguised the meaning, treating
it as the most natural thing in the world; but Aniela perceived the
drift, and lowering her eyes in evident confusion, said: "I must go
back now to mamma," and left me alone.
I am quite aware that in acting thus I introduce a disturbing element
into Aniela's soul. I perceive, too, with surprise, that if, on the
one hand, my conscience cries out against this wilful destroying of
the peace of the one being for whom I would give my life, on the other
hand, it causes me a savage delight, as if thereby I satisfied man's
innate instinct of destruction. I have also the conviction that no
consciousness of evil, or sting of conscience, will stop me. I am too
headstrong to let anything stand in my way, especially in presence of
that powerful, inexpressible spell she has cast upon me. I am now as
that Indian who threw away his oar, and gave himself up to fate. I
do not reflect now that it was my fault, that all might have been so
different, and that I had only to stretch out my hand to secure
the happiness I am now yearning for in vain. But it could not be
otherwise. I have come to the conclusion that generations which had
lost all vital power, have made me what I am; that nothing remains but
to cast away the oars and let myself drift with the current.
This morning we three--my aunt, Aniela, and I--went to the funeral of
the young cleric.
It was a strange sight, this village procession headed by the priest,
the coffin on a cart, followed by a crowd of peasants, men and women
who were singing a tune sad and weird as if set to some Chaldean
music. At the furthest end, the men and women were talking to each
other in a drawling, half-sleepy way. Going along, among the rowan
trees, the procession came now and then into the glare of the sun, and
then the kerchiefs flashed into flames of blue, and red, and yellow,
which but for the coffin and the incense of juniper berries, made the
procession rather look like a wedding than a funeral. Death does not
seem to make much impression upon the rustic mind; perhaps they regard
it in the light of an everlasting holiday. As we stood by the open
grave, I noticed their faces following the ceremony with concentrated
attention and curiosity; but I saw no trace of thoughtfulness or
reflection at the inexorable end, after which begins the great,
terrible Unknown.
I looked at Aniela as she stooped for a handful of soil to throw upon
the lowered coffin. She was paler than usual, and with the sun shining
upon her I could read the transparent features as an open book. I was
certain she was thinking of her own death. To me it seemed simply
monstrous, a horrible improbability, that this face so full of
expression, so full of life and charming individuality, should at some
time be stony white and remain in eternal darkness.
And as if a sudden frost had nipped all my thoughts, I grew suddenly
conscious that the first ceremony I assisted at with Aniela was a
funeral. As a person in long sickness, having lost faith in medicine,
turns to quack doctors and wise women, so the sick soul, doubting
everything, still clings to certain superstitions.
Probably no one is so near the gulf of mysticism as the absolute
sceptic. Those who have lost faith in religious and sociological
ideals, those whose belief in the power of science and the human
intellect is shaken, that whole mass of highly cultured people,
uncertain of their way, deprived of all dogmas, hopelessly struggling
in the dark, drift more and more towards mysticism. It seems to spring
up everywhere,--the usual reaction of a society whose life is based
upon positivism, the overthrow of ideals, empty pleasures, and
soulless striving after gain. The human spirit begins to burst its
shell, which is too narrow, too much like a stock exchange. One epoch
draws to an end, and then appears a simultaneous evolution in all
directions. It has struck me often with amazement that, for instance,
the more recent great writers seem not to know how very close upon
mysticism they are. Some of them are conscious of it, and confess so
openly. In every book I opened lately, I found, not the human soul,
will, and personal passions, but merely fatal forces with all
the characteristics of terrible beings, independent of personal
manifestations, living alone within themselves, like Goethe's
"Mother."
As regards myself, I too come near the brink. I see it and am not
afraid. The abyss attracts; personally it attracts me so much that if
I could I would go to the very bottom, and will some time when I am
able.