All my plans are shattered. The doctor came this morning, and after
examining Aniela, announced that there could be no question of any
long journey for her, as it would be positively dangerous. There seem
to be some irregularities in her state. What a torture to hear his
professional jargon, when every word he utters seems to threaten the
life of the beloved woman. I told the doctor the position we are in,
and he said that between two dangers he preferred the lesser one.
What troubled and angered me most was his advice to tell Aniela, after
due preparation, about her husband's death. Alas! I cannot deny that
from his point of view he is right. "If you are quite sure," he said,
"that you can keep it from Pani Kromitzka for some months to come, it
would certainly be better to do so; but if not, it would be advisable
to prepare her mind and then tell her; for if she receives the news
suddenly there may be another catastrophe."
What is to be done? I must establish a quarantine around Ploszow, not
let a paper or letter come in unknown to me, instruct the servants
what to say, and to keep even their features under command.
What an impression news like this makes upon every one; I had an
illustration in Pani Celina, to whom we had to tell the truth. She
fainted twice, and then went off into hysterics; which almost drove me
frantic, because I thought she would be heard all over the house. And
yet she was not fond of her son-in-law; but she too, I suppose, was
mostly afraid for Aniela. I am strenuously opposed to the doctor's
advice, and do not think I shall ever agree to it. I cannot tell them
one thing,--that Aniela did not love her husband, and that for that
very reason the shock will be more terrible to her.
It is not merely a question of sorrow after the death of a beloved
being, but of the reproaches she will apply to herself, thinking that
if she had loved him more he might have clung more to his life. Empty,
trivial, and unjust reproaches, for she did everything that force
of will could command,--she spurned my love and remained pure and
faithful to him. But one must know that soul full of scruples as I
know it, to gauge the depth of misery into which the news would plunge
her, and how she would suspect herself,--asking whether his death did
not correspond to some deeply hidden desire on her part for freedom
and happiness; whether it did not gratify those wishes she had
scarcely dared to form. My hair seems to rise at the very thought,
because it is his death that opens a new life for her; consequently it
will be a twofold shock,--two blows to fall upon the dear head. This,
neither the doctor, my aunt, nor Pani Celina can understand. No! she
ought not to be told until after the event.
What a misfortune that she cannot go away! Here it is difficult,
almost impossible, to guard her. She will read in our faces what has
happened. The least word, the least glance will rouse her suspicion,
and she will fancy all sorts of things. To-day she was surprised by
the sudden arrival of the doctor. Pani Celina told me she had inquired
why he was sent for and whether she was in any danger. Fortunately, my
aunt, always ready for any emergency, said that it was the usual thing
in such a case to call in the doctor from time to time. Aniela has no
experience, and believed her at once. How shall I be able to persuade
the servants not to look so mysterious? They already guess that
something is the matter, from my warnings and cautionings, and they
will know all about it in time. I cannot dismiss them all. The
frequent telegrams are enough to excite their curiosity. To-day I had
another telegram from Chwastowski at Baku, with the inquiry what he is
to do with the body. I replied that he should bury it there for the
present. I asked the elder Chwastowski to take it to Warsaw, and sent
a money order by telegraph. I do not know even whether such an order
can be sent from Warsaw to Baku.
To-day I looked through the papers. In two of them there was a
paragraph about Kromitzki's death. If that is young Chwastowski's
doing, he must be mad. The servants know everything. Their faces are
such that I am surprised Aniela does not suspect something. During
dinner she was cheerful and unusually lively. The doctor's presence is
a great relief to me. Kromitzki is nothing to him. He engages Aniela's
attention, makes jokes, and teaches her to play chess. Pani Celina,
on the contrary, reduces me to despair. The merrier Aniela grew, the
longer and more funereal became her mother's countenance. I spoke to
her about it rather sharply.