"You believe me, Aniela, if I tell you that it is in this room I wish
to die some day!"
Oh, how much sincerity there was in these words. Aniela's face grew
misty; all the radiance had gone. I saw that my words had touched a
chord, as all words do that come from the depth of the soul. For
a moment her whole body swayed as if some inward power pushed her
towards me. But she resisted still. She stood before me, her eyes
veiled by the long lashes, and said, with mournful dignity:--
"Let me be at ease with you, Leon; do not sadden me."
"Very well, Aniela; I will not say anything more; here is my hand upon
it."
I gave her my hand, and she pressed it warmly, as if by that pressure
she wanted to say all she forbade her lips to utter. It indemnified me
for all I had suffered, and almost made me stagger on my feet. For
the first time I felt distinctly that I was taking for my own this
being,--body and soul. It was a sensation of such immeasurable
happiness as to cause me almost pain. New, unknown worlds began
to open for me. From this moment I grew quite convinced that her
resistance was only a question of time.
My aunt returned from the stables in excellent humor; no attempt had
been made upon Naughty Boy's precious health. The trainer, Webb, to
all inquiries, had the same answer,--"All right." Jack Goose was
animated by the boldest spirit. We went to the window to see the
future conquerors come from the stables; for it was time they went to
the Mokotoff Field, there to pace around until their turn arrived.
A few minutes later we saw the grooms leading them into the yard,
encased from top to bottom as in a pillow-slip. Only the soft eyes
were visible through the slit; and from below, the shapely feet that
seemed wrought in steel. They were followed by Webb and our little
home-bred Englishman, Jack Goose, in a new overcoat, which concealed
his silks and jockey-boots. I called out to him through the open
window:--
"Mind, and don't get beaten, Kuba!"
He raised his cap, and pointing with it at Naughty Boy, replied in the
purest, not London, but Bursany, dialect:--
"Bedom prosz jasnie hrabiego widzieli, ale ino jegozad." (They will
see him, my lord, but only his hind-quarters.)
We sat down to a hurried lunch; nevertheless my aunt had time to read
what the papers had to say about the future museum. It is strange how
sensitive women are to public applause for their nearest mankind. My
aunt fairly beamed at me through her spectacles, and was incomparable
when she now and then, interrupting the reading, glanced keenly at
Aniela, and then said in her most dogmatic tone:--
"They do not exaggerate the least bit. He was always like that."
Praise heaven there was not another sceptic mind present, otherwise I
should have looked foolish indeed.
It was time for the ladies to dress. Before leaving the room my aunt
turned to me and said with the most innocent expression of face:--
"We must be quick, for I promised to call for Panna Zawilowski; she
was going with her father, but as he is suffering from an attack of
gout I shall have to chaperon her."
With this she went to her room. We looked at each other, Aniela and I;
the corners of her mouth twitched with merriment. "Aniela, it is a new
matrimonial scheme, what shall I do?" She put a finger to her lips
in warning that I spoke too loud, and disappeared within her room;
presently the lovely head peeped out through the half-open door.
"I just remembered you have not asked Miss Hilst," she said.
"No, I have not asked her."
"Why?"
"Because I love her on the sly," I retorted, laughing.
"Seriously, why did you not invite her?"
"If you wish I will invite her now."
"It is as you wish," she replied, and disappeared again.
But I preferred not to invite Miss Hilst.
An hour later we were driving in the Belvederski Avenue. Aniela wore a
cream-colored dress trimmed with lace. I have such a knack of saying
with my eyes what my lips must not utter, that Aniela read in them
my rapture. I recognized it in her face, that looked half-pleased,
half-vexed. We stopped on the way before the Zawilowski villa, and
before I had time to ring, the door opened, and Panna Zawilowska
herself came out. She stood before me a vision in silver gray, rather
a cold vision, as she barely nodded to me before going to my aunt.
She is rather plain than pretty,--a blond with steely blue eyes and
studied manners. She is considered a very pattern of distinction, and
with good reason; that is, if distinction means the same as stiffness.
Her treatment of me is as cold as her eyes, too cold even to be quite
natural. If this is a method adopted on purpose to chafe my vanity, it
is very foolish, for it only bores me, and does not provoke me in the
least. I am rather glad of it, as it permits me to pay her only such
attentions as simple politeness exacts.
To-day I paid her a little more attention; she served me in fact as
a screen to avert any suspicion from Aniela. Presently we drove on
again, but very slowly, as in front and in rear as far as the eye
could reach, all sorts of vehicles were moving in the same direction.
Before us and behind, there was a perfect stream of sunshades; the
various colors of which shone in the sun and created a warmly tinted
shadow from beneath which peeped forth, women's heads with delicate
and refined features. There was the average number of pretty faces,
but they expressed a want of temperament. I did not even see it in the
financial world, which, besides many other things, puts on temperament
rather than possesses it in reality. Among the carriages not a few
displayed considerable taste, and the bright toilets changing and
gleaming in the sun on a background of green trees, the crowds of
fine people and fine horses gave the whole show a highly civilized
appearance, not lacking either in picturesqueness. I was glad to see
Aniela pleased with the motion and turmoil. Replying to my casual
remarks she looked at me with gratitude as if it were I that had
arranged it all for her pleasure. Sitting opposite, I could look at
her without constraint, but I turned oftener towards Panna Zawilowska,
from whom blew a cold air, as from a decanter of iced water, which
began to amuse me; her words and manner seemed to imply that she
agreed to my society, because politeness did not permit her to do
otherwise. I treated her with a certain good-humored courtesy that
seemed to irritate her not a little.
We arrived at last on the Mokotoffskie Pola. There was a reserved
place near the grand stand for my aunt's carriage, and presently
various acquaintances with tickets stuck on their hats came up and
congratulated her upon the promising appearance of Naughty Boy. One of
the greatest horsebreeders said to her that the horse was a splendid
animal, though not sufficiently trained; but as the turf was soft from
yesterday's rain, a strong animal like Naughty Boy stood a fair chance
of coming in a winner.
It seemed to me that he spoke a little ironically, which made me feel
uneasy. Naughty Boy's defeat would spoil the day for my aunt, and
indirectly for me, too, as her bad humor would damp our pleasure. In
the mean while I looked around me at the field, and searched for known
faces. The race course was thronged with people. The grand stand
looked like a dark, compact mass, relieved by bright female toilets.
The course was surrounded by rows after rows of spectators; even the
town walls were alive with them. On either side of the grand stand
stood a long line of carriages; each separately looked like a
flower-basket. Not very far from where I stood I became suddenly aware
of a pink face and aggressive little nose that could not belong to
anybody but Pani Sniatynska. I went up to her and she told me her
husband had just left her to look for Miss Hilst; and then, almost in
one breath, asked me how my aunt was, whether Aniela was at the races,
how the ladies would manage their journey to Gastein since Pani Celina
could not walk, whether I thought Naughty Boy would win the race, and
what we would do if he lost, and how many people had I invited to
dinner. While standing near her carriage I noticed what a sweet
expression her face has, and the pretty foot that peeped forth from
the carriage; but as to answering all the questions, I should have to
borrow Gargantua's mouth, as Shakspeare says. Replying to one or two
of the questions and saying I hoped to see her after the races, I
followed Sniatynski's track in search of Clara. I found her carriage
not far from my aunt's. Clara looked like a hill covered with
heliotrope blossoms. I found her surrounded by a host of admirers and
artists, conversing gayly with them. Her face clouded when she saw me,
and my reception was of the coolest. A friendly word from me would
have changed all that, but I remained cold; after a quarter of an
hour's polite and ceremonious conversation, I went farther, exchanging
here and there a few words with people I knew, and then turned toward
our own carriage. The first two races had taken place, and Naughty
Boy's turn came at last.
I looked at my aunt; the expression of her face was very solemn; she
evidently tried her best to keep cool. On the contrary, Aniela's face
showed evident uneasiness. We had to wait some time before the horses
came out, because the weighing lasted unusually long. Suddenly
Sniatynski came running up, gesticulating with both hands, and showing
some bits of paper.
"I have put a pot of money on Naughty Boy," he exclaimed; "if he
betrays me, I shall have to throw myself upon your well-known
charity."
"I trust--" began my aunt, with all her dignity.
But she did not finish her sentence, as at this moment from amid the
dark mass of people there rose the varicolored caps and silks of the
jockeys. The horses were slowly trotting along. Some of them, finding
themselves in the open, quickened their pace; others followed more
leisurely. At the start they passed us in a group and not very fast,
so as to save their horses' strength, the race being a double one. But
at the second turn they were drawn out in a line. It looked as if the
wind had scattered the petals of some flowers along the road. The
first was a jockey in white, closely followed by another in pale blue
and red, then two together, one in red, the other in red and yellow;
our Kuba in orange and black was last but one, followed by a jockey
in white and blue. This order did not last long. When the horses had
reached the other side of the course, there arose some commotion in
the carriages. The more excited ladies climbed up on the seats so as
not to lose the least part of the race; their example was followed by
my aunt, who evidently could not sit still any longer.
Aniela offered her place to Panna Zawilowska, who, after some
ceremonious protests, accepted it; and I helped Aniela to the back
seat, and, as she had nothing to hold on by, offered her my hand. I
confess that I did not think of the race so much as of the dear little
hand that rested so trustingly in mine.
My aunt's back obscured the view a little; but raising myself on
tiptoe, I swept the whole field with my eyes, and saw the jockeys
drawing near the curve of the other side. Seen from this distance,
they looked like bright-colored beetles flying through the air; the
motion appeared slow, and the throwing out of the horses' fore and
hind legs almost mechanical. But in spite of the apparent slowness,
they cleared the ground very swiftly.
The order of the riders was changed again. The white was still
leading, followed by the red; but our Kuba was third now. The others
remained behind, and the distance between them grew wider every
moment. Naughty Boy was evidently not the worst among them. For a
moment I lost sight of him, and presently saw him again as they passed
us. The red was close upon the white, and Kuba gaining ground. I now
observed for the first time that the white would have no chance, as
the horse's flanks shone with moisture, as if water had been poured
over him. It was clear the race would lie between the red and orange
and black. At the worst, Naughty Boy would be second, and the defeat
not so complete. What inspired me with confidence was the horse's
pace; he threw out his legs so evenly, as if he performed a daily
task. The spectators' excitement became greater every moment.
"Has Naughty Boy lost?" asked Aniela, in a low, excited voice, seeing
the order in which the horses came past the stand.
"No, dear; they have still another round," I replied, pressing her
hand slightly. She did not withdraw her hand; it is true that her
whole attention was absorbed in the race. When the horses came to the
other side, Kuba was second, the white was so exhausted that he had to
fall back, and the three following riders came up to him. It was now a
race between the two, and there were only five or six lengths between
them. Suddenly a loud murmur from the stand told us that something
unusual had happened; Kuba was coming up to his adversary. The murmurs
on the stand grew into a tumult. Aniela was so carried away by
excitement that she squeezed my hand nervously, and asked every
moment, "What are they doing now?" The riders were on the left side of
the field. The red, by the help of his whip, had gained a little;
but presently Naughty Boy almost touched him with his nose. In this
furious pace they came both on a line with the stand, where we lost
sight of them again. The struggle would be over now in a few seconds.
On the stand there was a momentary silence, which suddenly changed
into loud, prolonged cheering. Many people were running along the
lines which hide the road, and at this moment we saw the red nostrils;
the horse's head, stretched out like a cord, orange and black, was
carried along as if by a hurricane. The bell rang on the grand
stand,--the victory was ours.
The red had lost by a dozen lengths.
I must say for my aunt that she never lost her self-possession. Nobody
but me noticed the few drops of perspiration which stood on her
forehead; she fanned with her pocket-handkerchief. Aniela was excited,
amused, and happy. We both congratulated our aunt; even Panna
Zawilowska said a few French sentences, stiff and proper, as if taken
from a copy-book. Presently a crowd of acquaintances thronged around
our carriage, and my aunt's triumph was complete.
I was also intoxicated, but by something quite different; namely,
the pressure of Aniela's hand. In vain I said to myself that it was
nothing but the excitement of the moment; because it occurred to me
that a woman's resistance often passes a crisis in such moments of
exaltation, when carried beside herself by some amusement, beautiful
view, or other circumstance different from the even tenor of every-day
life. Then a certain relaxation of the nerves takes place, in presence
of which a loss of the usual balance is easily explained. Taking
into account this special state of Aniela's mind, I arrived at the
conclusion that she did not fight against her feeling any longer; and
I resolved to put an end to it.
I suppose at Ploszow there will be no difficulty about a chance. We go
back to-morrow. To-day's entertainment, the dinner, the conversation,
and the excitement are so many drops of narcotic. She does not
even suppose what happiness there is in store for us; but she must
surrender her soul to me, wholly and unconditionally.
Though my aunt had notified Pani Celina that we might remain at Warsaw
until the next day, we really intended going back after dinner,--when
something occurred that prevented our starting. Dinner and tea
afterwards lasted until ten o'clock. When the last of our guests had
departed somebody came to tell my aunt that Naughty Boy had been taken
ill. There was a great confusion. The vet was sent for in a hurry, but
it was midnight before he arrived. My aunt would not think of going so
late as that.
Aniela wanted to go very much, but knew I would have to go with her;
and she is still afraid of me. My aunt told her she would only rouse
the whole house, disturbing thereby her mother, and wound up by
saying:--
"Leon does not mind my looking at his house as my own; consequently
you are my guest. It would be the same if I gave up Ploszow to him; I
should live there, and you with me,--at least, so long as Celina has
not recovered her health."
And finally Aniela had to remain.
It is now three o'clock in the morning. It is already growing light;
but lanterns are still flitting across the yard near the stables,
where they are busy with Naughty Boy.
My aunt, when wishing us good-night, announced that she intended to
remain a day longer at Warsaw; whereupon I said that I had left some
papers at Ploszow, and would go and fetch them, and see Aniela home at
the same time. We shall be alone, and I will hesitate no longer. The
blood rushes to my heart at the thought that I shall travel, though
only a short distance, with the dear love close to my heart, and
listen to her confession that she loves me as much as I love her.
The sky is clouded, and it has begun to rain. A few hours only divide
me from the moment when a new life is to begin for me. Of course I do
not sleep; I could not sleep now for anything in the world. There is
no heaviness on my eyelids,--I write, and recall memories. I still
seem to feel the pressure of her hand on mine. I made that soul,
educated, developed it, and prepared it for love. I am like the head
of an army, who has foreseen all chances, arranged and calculated
everything, and does not sleep on the eve of the day that will decide
his fate. But Aniela sleeps peacefully on the other side of the house;
and even her dreams plead for me, for my love. When I think of this,
all my nerves are vibrating.
In that ocean of trouble, evil, foolishness, uncertainties, and doubts
we call life, there is one thing worth living for, as certain and as
strong as--nay, stronger than--death; and that is love. Beyond it
there is nothingness.