Kitabı oku: «Whirlpools», sayfa 20

Finally, when the dawn began to peer into the room and mingle with the light of the lamps, he thought of repose, but though he felt great weariness, he could not fall asleep, and mentally he conversed with his mother and Miss Anney until sunrise. He fell into a sound slumber only when the morning bustle in the hotel began and did not awake until late. Dressing himself, he rang for the servant and ordered him to deliver Miss Anney's letter to his mother, but at the last minute he made up his mind to take it to her himself. But in the rooms engaged by his mother he found only the younger members of the family and the French governess, who informed him that "madame" went to church early in the morning.

V

Pani Krzycki had indeed gone to church and confession, for in the grief which befell her, she needed consolation and advice. And her grief was real and profound. She lived in times in which various ancient prejudices and prepossessions clashed, and were becoming more and more obliterated, yielding place to new democratic ideas. As she often heard that the wave of these new ideas might bring benefit and salvation to the country, she, notwithstanding that her habits and former conceptions conflicted with them, not only did not struggle against them, but quietly acquiesced in them in a passive manner. This was easier for her as it never occurred to her that personally she would ever have anything to do with them. For her it was the same as if somebody had installed modern furniture in a few rooms in Jastrzeb, which were not continually occupied. Let them stay there since fashion requires it and since in the other rooms there are old armchairs, heirlooms, in which one can rest comfortably. And now, suddenly she was ordered to move to that new part of the house; suddenly she was confronted by the fact that her son was in love with a peasant woman from Rzeslewo and was about to marry her. Then in the first moments everything within her was stirred up; the old instincts and customs began to cry out. That silent and passive acquiescence in the new ideas crumbled like a building of sand, and the whole course of events appeared to the indignant citizeness-noblewoman as an unworthy intrigue in which the victim to be sported with was her son and with him, the entire Krzycki family. Amazement that the chief partner and almost author of this intrigue could be a being whom she regarded as the incarnation of all feminine virtues, and whom she desired her son should marry, only aggravated her anger. In vain did Zosia explain to her that her son was the betrayer of an innocent child and Miss Anney was an angel, and that in bringing her to Jastrzeb, she did not have any sinister designs and did only that which every other woman in her place, sympathizing with a wronged and longing woman, would have done. "If the most fervent wish of Miss Anney was to behold once more in her life the place in which her life was undone, and the man whom she could not forget and who was the author of her undoing, then it was due to her; and everybody who has the slightest heart ought to understand this. And let Aunt say," she continued, "whether I could betray her secret and whether an impossible situation would not have been created for her." The usually quiet and gentle Zosia became so wrought up in defence of her friend that she plainly told Pani Krzycki that even if Laudie fell in love with Miss Anney without any requital that it would be only what he deserved and, besides, since "Aninka" did not accept his proposal and gave him a week's time for consideration, he could withdraw it; in such case, however, "Aninka" would not be the only one whose respect he forfeited. But all this was pouring oil upon fire and only increased the ire of Pani Krzycki who declared that, at any rate, she and her son were victims of a plot. After which she moved to a hotel, announcing at the time of her departure that her feet would never again cross the threshold of that house.

Nevertheless, the bitterness and anger which accumulated in her heart were not directed against Pani Otocka alone. Her son also had wounded her heart deeply and awakened a whole series of painful recollections, connected with the memory of her husband. For her husband, a man worshipped by her during the first years of their marital life for his manifold good qualities and extraordinary beauty, had caused her not a little mortification through his immoral life in relation to women in general and the female residents of Jastrzeb and its vicinity in particular. To Pani Krzycki it was no secret, that, in the course of long years, cows were led continually from the manor cow-houses as gifts or rather as rewards to various Kates and Marys and that in Jastrzeb could be found quite a number of step-brothers and step-sisters of her children. So she shed copious tears over this state of affairs until almost the last year of her husband's life. In her time she suffered in her own self-love and her womanly dignity as a wife and mother. Afterwards she forgave everything, but after the death of her husband, as a woman deeply religious, she lived in continual fear at the thought of the Divine Tribunal, before which the deceased appeared. For whole years she tried to supplicate for him forgiveness through tears, fasts, alms, and prayers. Above all she determined to bring up her son in such a manner that he would never fall into the errors of his father. She watched him in his boyhood days, like the eye in her head; she shielded him from all evil influences. After sending him to school she confided the care of him to her relative, a priest, and to Gronski, in whose morality she justly believed. And when the son grew up, when after finishing school, he attended the university, and afterwards assumed the management of the Jastrzeb estate, she had that bottomless, naïve faith, usual with women, upright and pious but unacquainted with the depravity of the world, that up to that time "Laudie" was as pure as a lily. And now unexpectedly the film over her eyes dropped. The son was following in the footsteps of his father. At this thought she was beset by despair. In her soul a protest truly vehement poured forth against the alliance of her son with a peasant woman, but having a very sensitive conscience she felt, after her conversation with Zosia, that Miss Anney had some claim on Ladislaus. Once or twice, this manner of extricating themselves from an onerous situation suggested itself to her mind; that Ladislaus in pursuance of a prearranged compact should propose to Miss Anney and she should refuse him. "But do I know," she said to herself, "how many similar Hankas may already be found in Jastrzeb?" And a horror penetrated to the marrow of her bones at the thought that among those Hankas might be Ladislaus' step-sisters, for it seemed to her that the crimes of the father fatally dragged after them the yet greater crimes of the son and with them must follow damnation. "Ah, Laudie! ah, Laudie!" she repeated despondently, and she felt besides fear, such pain, such disappointment of heart and such profound resentment, that however much she understood that it was necessary to summon Ladislaus as soon as possible and ascertain how he had received the news that Miss Anney is Hanka and what he intended to do, nevertheless she could not persuade herself to see him at once. After removing from Pani Otocka's, the information that he was not at the hotel afforded her true relief. She immediately locked herself up in her room and determined, if he called, not to admit him.

The following morning she went to church and to confession and after confession she begged her relative, the prelate, the same who in his time had charge of Ladislaus, for advice. Already she was calmer. The aged prelate received her and began with extraordinary particularity to question her about Miss Anney, her stay at Jastrzeb, about the course of events after the attempt on Ladislaus' life, and about the details in Hanka's life, of which Pani Krzycki had learned from Zosia: afterwards about the fears of Pani Krzycki herself, and finally after a long silence he said:

"As to the sins, which Ladislaus, after this, the first sin of his youth, might have committed, that is only a conjecture, and a fear, and as we have no irrefutable proofs of them, we should not take them into account at all. There only remains the former Hanka and the Miss Anney of to-day. It is only with this one case that we have to do. So I desire to know how you, as a mother, regard her."

Pani Krzycki replied that she knew perfectly well that all people in the sight of God were equal, but she was concerned about the happiness of her son. Similar marriages were not usually happy. It may be that the reason for this is the malice of the world: it may be that the wife met with humiliation on the part of vain and malicious persons, but the husband must feel that also, in consequence of which irritation ensues and the relations grow from bad to worse even without any ill-will on either side. As to her son he is ambitious and sensitive as but few are, and even if he loved his wife most strongly, he would suffer if any one evinced towards her even a shade of disdain. Whoever lives in the world must reckon with everything, even with stupidity, even with malice, not to say with other considerations upon which marital happiness often depends.

The aged prelate listened, folding and unfolding according to his habit a silk handkerchief, and finally said:

"Reckoning with stupidity and malice may only mean guarding against them, not making any concessions to them."

After which he began to look at Pani Krzycki with a penetrating gaze and asked:

"Permit me to put one question to you: Why should your son necessarily be happy?"

She looked at him with surprise.

"Why, I am his mother."

"Yes, but there are things more important than happiness, particularly temporal, – is it not true?"

"True," she answered quietly.

"That which you said in respect to temporal matters may be more or less just and may actually be the reasons which make such marriages less happy than others, but it is necessary above all things to propound to one's self the question. What in life is greater and what is less, what is more important and what is less important, and to act according to the dictates of conscience."

"Well, how am I to act?" asked Pani Krzycki.

The aged prelate looked at the crucifix hanging on the wall and quietly, but with emphasis, answered:

"As a Christian."

A momentary silence followed.

"I am satisfied with the advice," said Pani Krzycki, "and I thank you."

VI

Ladislaus, while his mother was in church and consulting the prelate, repaired, notwithstanding the early hour, to Pani Otocka. At the very beginning he raised to his lips both of her hands and kissed them so long that she, from that act alone, perceived his intentions.

"I knew it would be so! I knew it!" she cried with emotion and joy.

While he replied in a soft quivering voice:

"I did not require a week to perceive that I cannot live without her."

"I knew it," Zosia once more repeated. "Have you spoken with your mother, yet?"

"No. Yesterday, I ran about the city senselessly, after which I rushed to Gronski's and went to the hotel very late, and this morning I was informed that Mother was in church."

Pani Otocka again became anxious.

"Yesterday," she said, "she was very angry and God grant that she may be reconciled, for on this all depends."

"Not all," answered Ladislaus; "not to speak of my great attachment for Mother, I esteem her immensely; and God sees that I would be pleased always to conform to her will. But that has its limits; when the happiness, not only of myself, but of the being most precious to me in the world, is concerned, then I cannot sacrifice that under any circumstances; I have pondered over this all night. I have a hope that Mother will consent; as I trust in her character and in that love which she has always shown to me. If, however, contrary to my hopes, it should appear otherwise, then I will tell her that this is a resolution which cannot now be and will not be revoked."

"Maybe there is no necessity for that," said Pani Otocka, "for Aninka also is concerned. Yesterday, after the letter which she wrote to you and after Pan Gronski's departure, we talked until late at night. She was very nervous and cried, but spoke thus: 'If he returns to me, not joyfully and with entire good-will, but only because he did not want to withdraw his word, then I will never consent to it. There is no pride in me. I did not even reckon with my own self-love, and wrote to him sincerely what was in my heart, but even if it should break I would not wed him, if it shall seem to him that he is lowering himself for me.'"

"The dear, lovely creature!" interrupted Ladislaus.

Pani Otocka continued:

"After that she began to cry, and added that she would not consent to be the cause of an estrangement between mother and son."

"No, I repeat once more that my resolution cannot and shall not be revoked. Here my whole life is involved-and even if now Mother cannot find in her heart sufficient good-will, she will find it later. In the meantime I will do everything in order that my future wife should have in her also a mother, affectionate and grateful for her son's happiness."

"Can I repeat that to Miss Anney?"

"That is just what I came for. But I have yet one more prayer. She took my word that for a week I would not return to her and she alone can release me from it. But in view of what I came here for, this would be downright, needless torture. Neither a week nor a year can change anything. Nothing, absolutely! Will Cousin deign to tell her that and beg of her from me, but beg very cordially, that she release me from my word?"

"With the greatest pleasure, and I have a hope this will not be a too difficult matter to adjust."

"I thank you with my whole soul and now I will hurry to Mother."

But before he left the room, Marynia rushed in and began to gaze sharply, now at her sister, then at Ladislaus. In reality she was not apprized of the secrets of the former relations between Ladislaus and Hanka, but she already knew that Miss Anney is the former Hanka; she knew everything which transpired afterwards and, loving Miss Anney very much, she was dying from uneasiness and curiosity as to what turn the affair would take. She was so pretty with that wistful gaze and uneasy face and, besides, she had such an amusing mien that Ladislaus, in spite of his emotions, at the sight of her, fell into a good humor. Zosia remained silent, not knowing whether he wished to speak of his affair of the heart before Marynia, while he, purposely, for sometime did not break the silence; finally he approached his little cousin and squeezing her hand, announced in a sepulchral voice:

"Too late!"

"How too late," she asked alarmed.

"She is going to marry some one else."

"Who?"

"Panna-Kajetana."

And he burst out into a sincere, jolly laugh. Marynia conjectured that matters could not stand so badly since Ladislaus was jesting. Desiring, however, to learn fully the good news, she began to stamp with her foot and importune like a child.

"But how? – now, honestly. I could not sleep to-day! How? now, honestly. How?"

"Honestly, that hope and joy and happiness-there!" answered Ladislaus, pointing in the direction of Miss Anney's quarters.

After which, kissing his cousins' hands, he rushed out like a stone whirled from a sling, for he was in a great hurry.

On the way he grew grave and even gloomy at the thought that the moment for his decisive interview with his mother was approaching.

He found her in the hotel, where she awaited him in her own room. The sight of his mother's face, serene and filled with an unusual kind of sweetness, gave him, for the time being, encouragement, but at the same time he thought that gentle persuasion, entreaties, and perhaps tears, would be heavier to bear than anger-and he asked in an uncertain voice:

"Did Mamma read her letter?"

"I did," she answered, "but even before that I learned almost everything from Zosia, whom Miss Anney herself begged not to conceal anything from me."

"Gronski told me that Mamma became angry at Zosia?"

"Yes, that is so, but that can be rectified. Now I want above all things to talk with you sincerely."

So Ladislaus began to narrate how in the first moments he was struck as if by a thunderbolt and how he could not reconcile himself to the thought that Hanka and Miss Anney were one and the same person. He confessed his vacillation, his doubts, suspicions, and the pain, which pierced him; and the internal strife and accounting with his conscience and everything through which he passed. But only after reading her letter, did he perceive that this pain had its origin in his love for her and that the struggle was a struggle with his own heart and happiness; then he ceased to waver; he could not imagine happiness otherwise than with that most precious being in the world, and without her he did not desire it.

After which he said that when he became acquainted with her at Jastrzeb, as Miss Anney, from almost the first moment he was attracted to her by some incomprehensible force and she engrossed all his thoughts. He, of course, esteemed Zosia Otocka highly, and Marynia he regarded as a bright phenomenon. But admiration and love are two different things. Besides, he did not owe anything either to Zosia or to Marynia. They were kind while he was wounded and that was all. But to Miss Anney he probably owed his life, and he remembered that she for his sake placed herself in peril. With what could he repay her for that, and how could he make reparation for the former wrong, committed while she was still almost a child? Who was the worthier of the two? Was it he, who forgot and lived from day to day an easy, thoughtless, and spiritually slothful life, or she whom no new attachments could reconcile to their separation and who ennobled her mind and heart through suffering, yearning, and labor? "I scarcely dare to believe. Mother," said he, "that she not only absolves my injury, but has not ceased to love me. Perhaps it happened thus, because it was I who, for the first time in her life opened for her the doors to the world of happiness, but undoubtedly it was because hers is a totally exceptional nature. Yes, Mother! She is one of those who, in a pristine state even at the time when they are unable to realize things, possess that noble instinct, that sort of elevation of feeling that love ennobles indeed everything, but only when it is great, when it is for a whole lifetime; and those who love have such strength, such a depth of affection, that they are incapable of any other affection. But when such a one is found, then we can only thank God on our knees, and, in plain terms, my head is confused at the thought that for my transgression I meet with, not punishment, but fabulously good fortune. It may be that there are in the world more such women who can make a man happy, but I want to be happy only with this one; maybe there are others who ennoble and elevate everything about them, but I feel that through this one I will be better and better. Finally, this is a question not only of my happiness but also of my honor."

Here, folding his hands, he began to gaze into her eyes with a pleading look; after which he continued:

"All this I intrust to Mamma's hands; my whole life, my entire future, and the peace of my conscience, and happiness and honor."

Pani Krzycki placed both of his palms to her temples and kissed his forehead.

"My Laudie," she said, "I am an old woman and have various prejudices: so I will not tell you that from the first moments it was easy for me to assent to your intentions. Do you know that yesterday I became enraged at Zosia and until this morning, I persisted in my determination to oppose as far as it lay in my power your marriage. Be not surprised at this, since you admit that you were struck as if by lightning; then think, how it must have affected me, I, as is usual with a mother, had at the bottom of my soul the conviction that for you even a king's daughter would not be too high a mate. But it was not only the old mode of thought, not only a maternal vanity, and not only prejudices which inflamed my opposition. I feared also for your happiness. I would not have had anything against the person of Miss Anney herself, were it not for these other circumstances. I became acquainted with her at Jastrzeb and loved her sincerely; often I said, God grant that all our ladies could be like her. But learning who she is and what took place between you, I became alarmed at first at the thought that you might have committed similar offences in Jastrzeb."

"No, Mamma," answered Krzycki; "I give my word for that."

"For you see I thought you were absolutely pure; so think what a blow it was to me."

Ladislaus bowed to her hands, in order to hide his face, for notwithstanding the gravity of the moment, notwithstanding his sincere emotion and anxiety, the naïvete of his mother seemed to him something so unheard-of that he feared he might betray himself by an expression of astonishment, or what was worse, a smile. "Ah," he thought, "it is lucky that I have to swear only as to Jastrzeb, for I could not tell mother what I told Gronski, that a wise wolf never takes from that village where he keeps his lair." But simultaneously it occurred to him that one must be an angel to have such a delusion, and his adoration of his mother increased yet more.

And she continued:

"Then I took into consideration the world and the people among whom you must live. I knew that not a few would commend your conduct, but in reality you would have to endure a thousand petty annoyances and stings which would irritate and exasperate you until they caused a pain and bitterness even in your feeling towards your wife. I was concerned about your happiness which, in my blindness I craved above all things for you. And only to-day was the film taken off my eyes. Apparently such things we know and proclaim, but, nevertheless, with real surprise and as if it was something new, I heard that happiness is not the most important thing in life and that it ought not to be the greatest concern of a mother. And before that my heart was cleansed of its pride and I was commanded to be guided by my conscience: therefore, my Laudie, I cannot dissuade you from this marriage."

Ladislaus, hearing this, again bowed his head to his mother's hands and began to cover them with kisses.

"Ah, Mamma, dear," he repeated, "ah, Mamma, how happy I am!"

"And I," she answered; "for I feared that your feeling might be superficial, founded upon a delusion and fancy; but, after this conversation, I see that you love Aninka truly."

"Yes! That is imbedded so deeply that it could only be torn from me with my life."

"I believe, I believe."

Thus mutually assuring each other, they both spoke with absolute sincerity, and both at the same time deluded themselves. For Ladislaus had an inflammable head, greedy senses, and soft heart, but he lived principally on the exterior, and none of his feelings could spring from great depths as, on the whole, he was not a deep man.

But his mother, believing every one of his words as she believed in the gospel, said with great confidence:

"May God bless you, my child. Let us at present speak of what is to come. I, of course, understand that once having agreed, it is necessary to agree not with half but with the whole heart: it is necessary to receive Aninka with open arms and give her to understand that it is she who is conferring a favor upon us for which we should be grateful."

"Yes, for she does," exclaimed Ladislaus with ardor.

"Very well, very well," answered Pani Krzycki, with a smile, "now it becomes me to go to her and thank her myself. I assume also that Aninka will withdraw the condition that you should not call upon her for a week."

"Zosia is to attend to that, but naturally Mamma's words will be more effective."

"When do you want me to go?"

Ladislaus again folded his palms:

"At once, Mother dear, at once."

"Very well; will you wait for me here, or at Zosia's?"

"Here; for Zosia might be with Marynia at the rehearsal. She sometimes accompanies her."

Pani Krzycki rose heavily from the chair, as that day, from the morning, had been trying for her and the rheumatism held her more and more strongly. Having, however, straightened out her limbs, she moved briskly ahead. The thought that she was troubling herself for her boy made it an agreeable task and exertion.

But on the way she began to think of matters of which thus far there had been no mention between herself and her son. She belonged to that type of women, often found among the country nobility, who know perfectly well how to line the ideal cloak with a real lining. In her time the entire management of the Jastrzeb estate rested on her head, and on that account she had a multitude of worries and had habituated herself to struggle continually with them. So at the present time her mind turned to the material side of the affair.

"I would consent to this marriage" (she thought as if to justify herself to herself), "even though Aninka did not have anything, but I am curious to know how much she can have." After which she began to fondle the hope that while Aninka might not have millions and for an Englishwoman might not be very rich, she might have what in Poland might be regarded as great opulence, though in England it might be deemed a modest fortune.

And amidst such meditations she rang Miss Anney's door-bell.

The visit passed off as could be expected. Pani Krzycki was honest, grateful, motherly and, at the moment when she surrendered the life and happiness of her son to the hands of Miss Anney, "her dear daughter," she was, in a measure, pathetic. Miss Anney, too was in a measure, pathetic, also cordial and simple, quiet and collected as well, but she seemed to be acting with caution, though nothing whatever was said of the past. With Pani Krzycki there even remained an impression that there was by a hairbreadth too much of this "reserve." She understood perfectly that it would be want of tact on Miss Anney's part if she displayed too much enthusiasm and conceded that she acted properly, but nevertheless she carried away at the bottom of her heart a little disappointment as it were, for there was hidden in her the conviction that the woman who would get "Laudie" and would bear his name, could be excused even though she went insane from joy.

Returning to the hotel, she did not, however, confess to her son this thought, but began to load "Aninka" with praises and speak of her so warmly that tears stood in the eyes of both. Ladislaus, above all else, was anxious to know whether the "taboo" was removed and the prohibition recalled; having learned that such was the case, a quarter of an hour later, he was at Hanka's feet.

"My beloved, my angel, my wife!" he said, embracing her knees.