Whirlpools

"I know, but how do you manage to avoid it?"

"I walk everywhere as peacefully as if in my own rooms. The way I do it is simple. As often as I am not drunk, I pretend to be drunk. You would not believe what sympathy and respect an intoxicated person commands. And in my opinion this is but just, for whoever is 'under the influence' from morning till night is innocent and well thinking; upon him the so-called social order can rely with confidence."

"Surely. But the social order which depended upon such people would not stand upon steady legs."

"Who, to-day, does stand on steady legs? Doctrines intoxicate more than alcohol-therefore at this moment all are drunk. The empire is staggering, the revolution is reeling, the parties are floundering, and a third person stands on the side and looks on. Soon all will tumble to the ground. Then there will be order, and may it come as soon as possible."

"You ought to be that third person."

"The third person is the German and we are fools. We begin by falling to loggerheads, and have reached such a state that the only salvation for our social soul would be a decent civil war."

Here he became silent and after a while turned to Ladislaus.

"I see that your eyes are wide open, but nevertheless it is so. A civil war is a superb thing. Nothing like it to clarify the situation and purify the atmosphere. But to be led to such a situation and not to be able to create it is the acme of misfortune or folly."

"I confess that I do not understand," said Ladislaus.

Gronski motioned with his hand and remarked:

"Do not attempt to, for after every fifteen minutes of conversation you will not know what is black and what is white and your head will swim, or you will get a fever, which as a wounded man you should try to avoid."

"True," said Swidwicki, "I had heard and even read in some newspaper of the occurrence and paid close attention to it because in your home Pan Gronski and Pani Otocka with her sister were being entertained. I am a relative of the late aged Otocka. Those women must have been scared. But if they think that they are safer here in the city they are mistaken."

"Judging from what can be seen, it is really no safer here. Have you seen those ladies yet?"

"No, I do not like to go there."

At this, Ladislaus, who by nature was impetuous and bold, frowned, and looking Swidwicki in the eyes, replied:

"I do not ask the reason, for that does not interest me, but I give you warning that they are my relatives."

"Whose cause a young knight would have to champion," answered Swidwicki, gazing at Ladislaus. "Ah, no! If I had any intention of saying anything against the ladies I would not say it, as Gronski would throw me down the stairs and I have a favor to ask of him. What I said is the highest praise for them and simply gall and wormwood for me."

"Beg pardon, again; I do not understand."

"For you see that for the average Pole to have respect for any one and not to be able to sharpen his teeth upon him is always annoying. I cannot speak of the ladies as I would wish, that is, disparagingly. I cannot endure ideal women; besides that, whenever it happens that I pass an evening with them, I become a more decent man and that is a luxury which in these times we cannot afford."

Ladislaus began to laugh and Gronski said:

"I told you that surely your head would swim."

After which to Swidwicki:

"If he should get any worse, I will induce him to send the doctor's and apothecary's bill to you."

"If that is the case, I will go," answered Swidwicki, "but you had better come with me into another room for I have some business with you which I prefer to discuss without witnesses."

And, taking leave of Ladislaus, he stepped out. Gronski accompanied him to the ante-room and after a while returned, shrugging his shoulders:

"What a strange gentleman," said Ladislaus. "I hope I am not indiscreet, but did he want to borrow any money from you?"

"Worse," answered Gronski. "This time it was a few Falk engravings. I positively refused as he most frequently returns money or rather he lets you take it out of his annuity, but books, engravings, and such things he never gives back."

"Is he making a collection?"

"On the contrary he throws or gives them away; loans or destroys them. Do I know? You will now have an opportunity of meeting him oftener, for though I refused to loan them, I permitted him to come here to look over and study them. He undoubtedly is writing a book about Falk."

"Ah, so he is a literary man."

"He might have been one. As you will meet him, I must warn you a little against him. I will describe him briefly. He is a man to whom the Lord gave a good name, a large estate, good looks, great ability, and a good heart, and he has succeeded in wasting them all."

"Even a good heart?"

"Inasmuch as he is a rather pernicious person, it is better that he does not write. For you see that it may happen that somebody's brains decay, just as with people, sick with consumption, their lungs decay. But no one has the right to feed the nation with the putrefaction of his lungs or his brains. And there are many like him. He does not act for the public weal but merely for his own private affairs. Do you know how he accounts for not accomplishing anything in his life? In this way: that to do so one must believe and to believe it is necessary to have a certain amount of stupidity which he does not possess. I am not speaking now of religious matters. He simply does not believe that anything can be true or false, just or unjust, good or bad. But Balzac wisely says: 'Qui dit doute, dit impuissance.' Swidwicki is irritated and filled with bitterness by the fact that he is not anything; therefore he saves himself by paradoxes and turns intellectual somersaults. I once saw a clown who amused the public by giving his cap various strange and ridiculous shapes. Swidwicki does the same with truth and logic. He is also a clown, but an embittered and spiteful one. For this reason he always holds an opinion opposite to that of the person with whom he is speaking. This happens particularly when he is drunk, and he gets drunk every night. Then to a patriot he will say that fatherland is folly; in the presence of a believer he will scoff at faith; to a conservative he will say that only anarchy and revolution are worth anything; to the socialist that the proletariat have 'snouts.' I have heard how he thus expressed himself, and only for this reason, that he, 'a superman,' might have something to hit at when the notion seizes him. And thus it is always. In discussion he shines with paradoxes, but sometimes it chances that he says something striking because in all criticism there is some justice. If you wish, I will arrange such a spectacle, though for me he has a certain regard, firstly, because he likes me, and again because I have rendered him a few services in life. He promised to repay me with black ingratitude, but in the meantime he does not molest me with such energy as the others."

"And no one has yet broken his bones," observed Ladislaus.

"He does not, in the least, retreat from that. He himself seeks trouble and there is not a year in which he does not provoke some encounter."

"In the taverns?"

"Not only there. For belonging by name and family connections to the so called higher walks of life, he has many acquaintances there. Two years ago, indeed, the artists gave him a good cudgelling in a tavern; and, for instance, Dolhanski (their dislike is mutual) shot him last spring in a duel."

"Ah, that was when I heard his name; now I remember."

"Perhaps you heard it before, for previously he had a few affairs about women, as, in addition, he is a great ladies' man. Finally he is an unbridled rogue."

"As to women? or up to date?"

"He is not an old man. For some time he has been in the state where he likes not ladies but their maids. Fancy that not long ago he was so smitten with Miss Anney's maid, – the same brunette who nursed you a little in Jastrzeb, – that for a time he was continually dogging her steps. He said that once she reviled him on the stairway but this charmed him all the more."

Krzycki at the mention of the brunette who nursed him in Jastrzeb became so confused that Gronski noticed it, but not knowing what had passed between him and Pauline, judged that the enamoured youth was offended at the thought that such an individual as Swidwicki should bustle about Miss Anney. So desiring to remove the impression, he remarked:

"He says that he does not like to call upon those ladies, but Pani Otocka does not welcome him at all with enthusiasm. She receives him merely out of respect for the memory of her husband, who was his cousin and who, at one time, was the conservator of his estate. After all, it is probable that Swidwicki feels out of place among such ladies."

"For microbes do not love a pure atmosphere."

"This much is certain: there is within him 'a moral insanity.' I have become accustomed to him, but there are certain things in him I cannot endure. You have no idea of the contemptuous pity, the dislike, and the downright hatred with which he expresses himself about everything which is Polish. And here I call a halt. Notwithstanding our good relations, it almost came to a personal encounter between us. For when he began to squirt his bilious wit, a certain night, on all Poland, I said to him, 'That lion is not yet dead, and if he dies we know who alone is capable of kicking at a dying lion.' He did not come here for over a month, but was I not right? I understand how some great hero, who was repaid with ingratitude, might speak with bitterness and venom of his country, but Swidwicki is not a Miltiades or a Themistocles. And such an outpouring of bile is directly pernicious, for he, with his immensely flashing intellect, finds imitators and creates a fashion, in consequence of which various persons who have never done anything for Poland whet their rusty wits upon this whetstone. I understand criticism, though it be inexorable, but when it becomes a horse or rather an ass from which one never dismounts, then it is bad, for it takes away the desire to live from those who, however, must live-and is vile, because it is spitting upon society, is often sinful and, above all, unprecedentedly unfortunate. Pessimism is not reason but a surrogate of reason; therefore, a cheat, such as the merchant who sells chiccory for coffee. And such a surrogate you now meet at every step in life and in literature."

Here Gronski became silent for a while and raised his brows; and Krzycki said:

"From what you say, I see that Swidwicki is a big ape."

"At times, I think that he is a man incredibly wretched, and for that reason I did not break off relations with him. Besides he has for me a kind of attachment and this always disarms one. Finally, I confess openly that I have the purely Polish weakness, which indulges and forgives everything in people who amuse us. He at times is very amusing, especially when in a talking mood and when he is tipsy to a certain degree."

"But finally, if he does not work but talks, from what does he live?"

"He does not belong to the poor class. Once he was very wealthy; later he lost a greater portion of his fortune. But in the end the late Otocki who was a most upright man, and very practical besides, seeing what was taking place, took the matter in his own hands, saved considerable and changed the capital into an annuity. From this Swidwicki receives a few thousand roubles annually, and though he spends more than he ought to, he has something to live upon. If he did not drink, he would have a sufficiency: one passion he does not possess, namely, cards. He says that for cards one must have the intellect of a negro. From just that arose the encounter with Dolhanski. But after all, they could not bear each other of old. Both, as some one had said, are commercial travellers, dealing in cynicism and competing with each other."

"Between the two, I, however, prefer Dolhanski," said Krzycki.

"Because he amuses you, and Swidwicki has not thus far had the opportunity. Eternally, it is the same Polish weakness," answered Gronski.

After a while he added:

"In Dolhanski it is easier to see the bottom."

"And at that bottom, Panna Kajetana."

"At present it may, in truth, be so. Do you know that Dolhanski brought those ladies with him on the train which followed ours? He told me also that they would at once pay a visit to your mother and Pani Otocka."

"You will really call upon them to-day?"

"Yes, I call there daily. But as you are not permitted to go out, I will invite the ladies to come here to-morrow afternoon for tea."

"I thank you most heartily. I am not allowed to go out but I could drive over."

"My servant told me that by order of the Party a strike of the hackdrivers will begin to-morrow morning."

"Then how can those ladies ride over here to-morrow?"

"In the private carriages. Unless they are forbidden to ride in private. – "

"In that case Mother will be unable to see me."

"If it is quiet upon the streets, I will conduct her here and escort her home. At times it is so that one day the streets are turbulent as the sea, and the next, still and deserted. In reality it is a relative security; for whoever goes out to-day in the city cannot feel certain that he will return. If not these then the others may stick in your side a knife or a bayonet. But for women it is comparatively safe."

"Under these circumstances, it would be better if my mother did not visit me at all. I prefer to stay out those three days which Szremski has imposed upon me, to exposing her or any of those ladies to peril. Please postpone that 'five o'clock.'"

"Perhaps it will be necessary to do that. But your mother will not consent to not seeing you for three days. Maybe some one else will importune me that I should not defer the party."

Ladislaus' face glowed with deep and tender joy.

"Tell Mother that worry about her may harm me and cause a fever, and tell that other one that I kiss the hem of her dress."

"No. Such things you must say yourself."

"Oh, that I could not only tell her that as soon as possible, but do it. In the meantime I have a favor to ask of you. Please send your servant to the city. If he is afraid let him call a messenger. I would like to send that other one a few flowers."

"Then send also some to your cousins, as otherwise your mother will be prematurely surprised."

"Surely she would be astonished, for owing to her sickness she saw us so little together that she could not take in the situation. But soon I will confess all to her."

"I will only tell you what Pani Otocka said to me. She said this: 'Let Ladislaus not speak with his mother before his final interview with Aninka as otherwise he would be unable to tell her everything.'"

Krzycki looked Gronski quickly in the eyes.

"And do you not know what the matter is?"

"You know that I have never been accused of a lack of curiosity," answered Gronski, "but I judged that Pani Otocka has sufficient reasons for remaining silent, and, therefore, I did not question her about anything."

VII

Gronski actually did postpone his "five o'clock." Pani Krzycki, however, visited her son, sometimes twice in a day, claiming justly that less danger threatened an elderly woman than any one else. Ladislaus passed long hours with her, speaking about everything, but mostly about Miss Anney. After Gronski's admonition, he did not, indeed, confess to his mother his feelings for the young Englishwoman and did not mention a word about his intentions, but the fact, alone, that her name was continually on his lips, that he ascribed his preservation to her alone, and incessantly talked about the debt of gratitude which he and his family owed to her, gave his mother much to think about. The suspicion, which had flitted through her mind on the eve of their departure from Jastrzeb, returned and became more and more strongly fortified. She did not, indeed, take it for granted that Ladislaus had already taken an unbreakable resolution but came to the conclusion that he was "smitten" and finally that the light-haired maiden had made a greater impression upon him than had his cousin Otocka. This filled her with sorrow. During the journey and their few days' sojourn in Warsaw she took a fancy to Miss Anney for her demeanor, simplicity, and complaisance; but "Zosia Otocka" was the little eye in her head. From the moment she met her in Krynica, she never ceased dreaming of her for her son. She judged that, in respect to nobility and delicacy of sentiment, no one could compare with her. She regarded her as a chosen soul and the incarnation of womanly angelicalness. She had awaited her arrival with palpitation of the heart, not supposing for a moment that Ladislaus would not be captivated by her figure, her sweet countenance, that maidenly charm, which, notwithstanding her widowhood, she preserved in full bloom. And until the end Pani Krzycki indulged in the hope that all would end according to her desires, not taking into account the fleeting impression in Jastrzeb; only during the journey to Warsaw and in the course of the last few days did she note that it might happen otherwise, and that Ladislaus' eyes were enraptured by another flower. She preferred, however, not to question him for she thought that it might yet pass away.

He, in the meantime, chafed as if imprisoned, and would undoubtedly have not observed those few days which the doctor stipulated, were it not for the fact that he had made a promise to his mother in Miss Anney's presence, and feared to create an opinion in her eyes that he was a man who did not keep his word. After the advice which Pani Otocka, through the instrumentality of Gronski, gave him that he should first speak with Miss Anney, it became more unendurable for him to sit in the house. From morning till night he racked his brain as to what that could be and could arrive at no satisfactory solution. The day following the conversation with Gronski, he decided to ask Pani Otocka about it by letter and sat down with great ardor to write. But after the first page he was encompassed by doubt. It seemed to him that he could not express that which he wished. He understood that, under the address of Pani Otocka, he was really writing to Miss Anney. So he yearned to make it a masterpiece, and in the meantime came to the conclusion that it was something so bungling and maladroit that it was impossible to forward it. Finally he lost all faith in his stylistic accomplishments, and this spoilt his humor so far that he again began to ask himself in his soul whether such "an ass," who is unable to indite three words, has the right to aspire to such an extraordinary and in every respect perfect being as "She." Gronski, however, comforted him with the explanation that the letter was not a success because from the beginning the project was baffling and under such circumstances no one could succeed. After which he also called his attention to another circumstance, namely, that from Pani Otocka's words and her advice that an interview with Miss Anney should precede any talk with his mother could be drawn the inference that there everything was prepared for an explosion, and all means preventative of a heart-break had been provided. Mirth immediately returned to Ladislaus and he began to laugh like a child and afterwards again sent to the three ladies bouquets of the most magnificent roses which Warsaw could provide.

The day concluded yet more propitiously, for proofs of appreciation arrived. They were brought to Gronski's house by Panna Pauly in the form of a small and perfumed note, on which was written by the hand of the light-haired divinity the following words: "We thank you for the beautiful roses and hope for an early meeting." Further came the signatures of Agnes Anney, Zosia Otocka, and Marynia Zbyltowska. Krzycki pronounced the letter a masterpiece of simplicity and eloquence. He certainly would have kissed each letter of it separately, were it not for the fact that before him stood Panna Pauly, with clouded face, and eyes firmly fixed upon him-uneasy and already full of suspicious jealousy, though obviously not knowing against which one of the three ladies it was to be directed. Krzycki, not concealing the joy which the letter gave him, turned to her and said:

"What is new, little Miss? Are the ladies well?"

"Yes. My mistress instructed me to inquire about your health."

"Kindly thank her. It is excellent, and if I am not shot again, I will not die from the first shooting."

And she, not taking her bottomless eyes off him, replied:

"God be praised."

"But that you, little Miss, should not fear to go out in such turbulent times!"

"The lackey was afraid, but I do not fear anything and wanted to see for myself how you were."

"There is a daring body for me! I am grateful to you, little Miss. Since this stupid strike of hackmen ended to-day, it is better for you to return by hack. Please accept this-for-"

While saying this, he began to search for his purse, and taking a five-rouble gold piece, he offered it to her. At the same time he felt that he was doing something improper, and even terrible. It was so disagreeable to him that he became confused and reddened, but it seemed to him that any other method of showing his gratitude would be food for the feeling which he perceived in her and which he wished to dispel, because of some strange kind of fear intensified even by the fact that the girl was Miss Anney's maid.

Therefore he began to repeat with a forced and slightly silly smile:

"Please, Panna Pauly, take it, please-"

But she withdrew her hand and her face darkened in a moment.

"I thank you," she said. "I did not come for that."

And she turned towards the door. To the dissatisfaction with himself which Krzycki felt was joined pity for her. Therefore he followed her a few steps.

"Let not the little lady be offended," he said; "here, of course, was no other thought than of her safety. It was only about this that I was concerned. Shall the servant summon a carriage? – "

But she did not answer and left the house. Krzycki, walking to the window, gazed for some time at her graceful form, disappearing in the depths of the street; and suddenly again appeared before his eyes the vision of the white statue in azure drops of water. There was, however, something exasperating in her; and unwillingly there occurred to the frail young gentleman the thought that if she were not Miss Anney's maid, and if he had known her formerly, that as two and two are four he would have succumbed to temptation.

But at present another, greater power had snatched away his thoughts and heart. After a while he returned to the letter and began to read it anew: "We thank you for the beautiful roses and hope for an early meeting." And so they want to see him over there. The day after to-morrow he will not be sitting here, bound by the chains of his own words, but will go there and gaze in those wonderful eyes, looking with a heavenly stream, and will so press his lips to her beloved hands that in one kiss he will tell everything which he has in his heart. Words will be later only an echo. And imagination bore him like an unmanageable horse. Perhaps that idolized maid may at once fall into his arms; perhaps she may close those wonderful eyes and offer her lips to him. At this thought a thrill passed through Krzycki from his feet to his head and it seemed to him that all the love, all the impulses, and all the desires which ever existed and exist in the world at present were hoarded in him alone.

VIII

Gronski spent the entire next day in the city; at night he was at Pani Otocka's, so that he did not return home until near midnight. Krzycki was not yet asleep and as his mother, on account of the disturbances on the streets could not visit him that day, he awaited with impatience Gronski's return, and immediately began to question him about the news in the city and of the ladies.

"The news in the city is bad," answered Gronski; "about noon I heard the firing of musketry in the factory district. Before calling upon Pani Otocka, I was at a meeting in the Philharmonic at which representatives of some of the warring factions met, and do you know what kind of an impression I took away with me? Why, that, unfortunately, Swidwicki in certain respects was right and that we have come to the pass where only a civil war can clear the atmosphere. In this would be the greater tragedy for it would, at the same time, be the final extinction. But of this later. I have a head so tired and nerves so shattered that to-day I cannot think of such things."