Children of the Soil

“But I,” thought he, “will not refuse now.”

And it occurred to him that life is like the machinery of a watch. When something is out of order in one wheel, all begin to act irregularly. What connection could there be between his adventure with Pani Mashko and his business, his money, his mercantile work? And still he felt that even as a merchant he had not, at least with reference to Mashko, the freedom that he once had.

But his suppositions proved faulty. Mashko had not come to ask money.

“I looked for thee in the counting-house, and at thy residence,” said he; “at last I divined that thou must be at the Bigiels’, and I sent my letter there. I wished to speak with thee on thy own business.”

“How can I serve thee?” asked Pan Stanislav.

“First of all, I beg that what I say may remain between us.”

“It will; I am listening.”

Mashko looked for a time in silence at Pan Stanislav, as if to prepare him by that silence for some important announcement; at last he said, with a wonderful calmness, weighing out every expression, —

“I wished to tell thee that I am lost beyond redemption.”

“Hast lost the will case?”

“No; the case will come up only two weeks from now but I know that I shall lose it.”

“Whence hast thou that certainty?”

“Dost remember what I told thee once, that cases against wills are won almost always because the attack is more energetic than the defence; because usually the overthrow of the will concerns some one personally, while maintaining it does not? Everything in the world may be attacked; for though a thing be in accordance with the spirit of the law, almost always, in a greater degree or less, it fails to satisfy the letter, and the courts must hold to the letter.”

“True. Thou hast said all that.”

“Well, so it is, too, in this case which I took up. It was not so adventurous as may seem. The whole question was to break the will; and I should, perhaps, succeed in proving certain disagreements in it with the letter of the law, were it not that there is a man striving with equal energy to prove that there are none such. I will not talk long about this; it is enough for thee to know that I have to contend not merely with an opponent who is a lawyer and a finished trickster, but a personal enemy, for whom it is a question, not only to win the case, but to ruin me. Once I slighted him, and now he is taking revenge.”

“In general, I do not understand why you have to do with any one except the State Attorney.”

“Because there were legacies to private people in defence of which the opposite side employed Sledz, that advocate. But let this rest. I must lose the case, for it is in conditions for being lost; and if I were Sledz, I would win just as he wins. I know this in advance, and I do not deceive myself. Enough now of this whole matter.”

“But go on; appeal.”

“No, my dear friend, I cannot go on.”

“Why?”

“Because I have more debts than there are hairs on my head; because, after my first defeat, creditors will rush at me; and because” – here Mashko lowered his voice – “I must flee.”

Silence followed.

Mashko rested his elbow on his knee, his head on his palm, and sat some time with his head inclined; but after a while he began to speak, as if to himself, without raising his head, —

“It is broken. I tied knots desperately, till my hands were wearied; strength would have failed any man, still I kept knotting. But I cannot knot any longer! God sees that I have no more strength left. Everything must have its end; and let this finish sometime.”

Here he drew breath, like a man who is terribly tired; then he raised his head, and said, —

“This, however, is my affair merely, and I have come to talk of thy affairs. Listen to me! According to contract concluded at the sale of Kremen, I was to make payments to thy wife after the parcelling of Magyerovka; thou hast a few thousand rubles of thy own money with me. I was to pay thy father-in-law a life annuity. Now I come to tell thee that if not in a week, then in two, I shall go abroad as a bankrupt, and thou and they will not see a copper.”

Mashko, while telling all this with the complete boldness and insolence of a man who no longer has anything to lose, looked Pan Stanislav in the eyes, as if seeking for a storm.

But he was deceived most thoroughly. Pan Stanislav’s face grew dark for one twinkle of an eye, it is true, as if from suppressed anger; but he calmed himself quickly, and said, —

“I have always expected that this would end so.”

Mashko, who, knowing with whom he had to deal supposed that Pan Stanislav would seize him by the shoulder, looked at him with amazement, as if wishing to ask what had happened.

But at that moment Pan Stanislav thought, —

“If he had wanted to borrow money for the road, I could not have refused him.”

But aloud he said, “Yes; this was to be foreseen.”

“No,” answered Mashko, with the stubbornness of a man who will not part with the thought that only a concurrence of exceptional circumstances is to blame for everything. “Thou hast no right to say this. The moment before death, I should be ready to repeat that it might have gone otherwise.”

But Pan Stanislav inquired, as if with a shade of impatience, —

“My dear, what dost thou want of me specially?”

Mashko recovered, and answered, —

“Nothing. I have come to thee only as to a man who has shown me good-will at all times, and with whom I have contracted a money debt, as well as a debt of gratitude; I have come to confess openly how things stand, and also to say to thee: save what is possible, and as much as possible.”

Pan Stanislav set his teeth; he judged that even in that irony of life, whose chattering he heard round about him continually for some time past, there ought to be a certain measure. Meanwhile Mashko’s words about friendship and a debt of gratitude seemed to him as simply passing that measure. “May the devils take the money and thee – if thou would only go!” thought he, in spirit. But compressing in himself the wish to utter this audibly, he said, —

“I see no way.”

“There is only one way,” answered Mashko. “While it is still unknown to people that I must break, while hopes are connected with the will case, while my name and signature mean something, thou hast a chance to sell thy wife’s claim. Thou wilt say to the purchaser that it is thy wish to capitalize the whole property, or something of that sort. Appearances are easy. A purchaser will be found always, especially if thou decide to sell at a certain reduction. In view of profit, any Jew will buy. I prefer that any other should lose rather than thou; it is permitted thee not to hear what I have told thee of my coming bankruptcy, and it is permitted thee to hope that I shall win the case. Thou canst be sure that he who will buy the claim of thee, would sell it to thee, even though he knew that it would not be worth a broken copper on the morrow. The world is an exchange; and on the exchange most business is transacted on this basis. This is called cleverness.”

“No,” answered Pan Stanislav, “it has a different name. Thou hast mentioned Jews; there are certain kinds of business which they describe with one word, ‘schmuzig!’ I shall save my wife’s claim in another way.”

“As may please thee. I, my clear friend, know the value of my system; but, seest thou, in spite of all, I said to myself that I ought to tell thee this. It is perhaps the honor of a bankrupt; but now I cannot have another. It is easy for thee to divine how hard it is for me to say this. For that matter, I knew in advance that thou wouldst refuse; hence with me it was a question only of doing my own. And now give me a cup of tea and a glass of cognac, for I am barely living.”

Pan Stanislav rang for the tea and the cognac.

Mashko continued, —

“I must pluck a certain number of people, – there is no help for that; hence I prefer to pluck indifferent ones rather than those who have rendered me service. There are positions in which a man must be an opportunist with his own conscience.”

Here Mashko laughed with bitterness.

“I did not know of that myself,” continued he; “but now new horizons open themselves before me. One is learning till death. We bankrupts have a certain point of honor too. As to me, I care less for those who would have plucked me in a given case than those who are near me, and to whom I owe gratitude. This may be the morality of Rinaldini, but morality of its own kind.”

The servant brought in tea now. Mashko, needing to strengthen himself evidently, added to his cup an overflowing glass of cognac, and, cooling the hot tea in that way; drank it at a gulp.

“My dear friend,” said Pan Stanislav, “thou knowest the position better than I. All that I could say against flight, and in favor of remaining and coming to terms with creditors, thou hast said to thyself of course, therefore I prefer to ask of something else: Hast thou something to grasp with thy hand? Hast thou even money for the road?”