Whirlpools

"What is it?" spoke out Krzycki.

Miss Anney withdrew her forehead from the pane. Her countenance was calmer, but her eyes were dimmed as if with tears. Approaching the table, she sat down opposite to Ladislaus.

"Before I relate what it is now necessary for me to state," she said, "I have a great favor to ask of you. And if you-love me truly-then you will not refuse-"

"Lady, if you demanded my life, I would not refuse it. I pledge you my word," he exclaimed.

"Very well. Give me your word. Then I will be certain."

"I pledge it in advance and swear upon our future happiness that I will comply with your every wish."

"Very well," repeated Miss Anney. "Then I first beg of you, by all you hold most precious, not to feel at all bound by anything you have said to me just now."

"I not feel bound? In what way? Of course, it may not be binding upon you, lady-but on me-"

"Well, then, I release you from all obligations and consider that nothing has been said. You promised me that you would not refuse me anything, but this is not all."

"Not all?"

"No, I am anxious that after what I shall tell you, you shall not give me any answer-and for a whole week shall not return to me and shall not try to see me."

"But in the name of God, what is it?" cried Ladislaus; "why should I suffer a week of torments? What does this mean?"

"And for me it also will be a torment," she answered in a soft voice. "But it is necessary, it is imperative. You will have to explain everything to yourself; weigh everything, unravel and decide everything-and form a resolution-afterwards you may return or may not return-and a week for all that will be rather too little."

And perceiving the agitation on Ladislaus' face, she hurriedly added, as if alarmed:

"Sir, you promised-you pledged me your word!"

Ladislaus drew his hand across the hair of his head; after which he began to rub his forehead with his palm.

"I gave the word," he said at last, "because you requested it, lady-but why?"

And Miss Anney turned pale to the eyes; for a while her lips quivered as though she struggled vainly to draw the words from her bosom, and only after an interval did she reply:

"Because-atone time I-did not bear the name of Anney."

"You did not bear the name of Anney?"

"I-am-Hanka Skibianka."

Ladislaus rose, staggered like a drunken man, and began to stare at her with a bewildered look.

And she added in almost a whisper:

"Little master! – 'tis I-of the mill."

And tears coursed quietly over her pallid countenance.

PART III

I

Krzycki left Miss Anney's with a sensation as if lightning had struck directly in front of him and suddenly stunned him. He could neither collect nor connect his thoughts; he was not even in a condition to realize his situation nor reflect upon it. The only impression, or rather feeling, which in the first moments remained was a feeling of illimitable amazement. On the way he repeated every little while, "Hanka Skibianka! Hanka Skibianka!" and seemed incapable of doing aught else. He did not find Gronski at home, as the latter had left immediately after the noon hour, telling the servant that he would return late at night. So he went to his room, locked himself in without knowing why; afterwards he flung himself into an armchair and sat abstractedly for over an hour. After the lapse of that time, he opened his trunk and began to pack things into it with excessive zeal, until finally he propounded to himself the question: "Why am I doing this?" Not being able to find an answer, he abandoned that work and only resumed it when he came to the unexpected conclusion that in any case he would have to move away from Gronski's.

Having finished, he put on his hat and left, without any well-defined object, for the city. For a while a desire rose in him to call upon his mother and Pani Otocka, but he stifled it at once. For what? It seemed to him that he had nothing to tell his mother about himself and his intentions; and that he could talk with her only about this unheard-of intelligence, the discussion of which would be for him, beyond all expression, afflicting. Unconsciously, he reached the Holy Cross Church and wanted to enter it, but the hour was late and the church was locked. The morning of that day and the joint prayer with her stood vividly before his eyes. Ah, how sincerely he prayed; how he loved her; how he loved her! And now he could not resist the impression that this light-haired, idolized lady, with whom he said in that chapel "Under Thy Protection," and Hanka Skibianka were two different beings. And he felt in his heart a kind of disenchantment with which he began to contend. For why was he nevertheless so acutely affected by it? Was it because Hanka was a peasant girl and he a nobleman? No! Miss Anney never represented herself as an English noblewoman, and a Polish peasant is no worse than an English commoner. He could not clearly perceive that the reason of it lay in this: that Miss Anney through her descent alone, foreign and distant, appeared to him a sort of princess, and Hanka was a near and domestic girl from Zarnow. She aroused less curiosity and therefore was less attractive. She was so much easier, therefore, cheaper to him. In vain he recalled and repeated that this Hanka is that same light-haired lady, charming as a dream, alluring, genteel, womanly, responding in sentiment to every thought and every word; the feeling of disenchantment was more powerful than those thoughts, and that charm of exoticism, which suddenly was lacking in the girl, minimized her worth in his eyes.

But, besides this, there was something else, in view of which the disenchantment and all unexpected impressions stood aside and became matters of secondary importance. This was, that he had once possessed that girl-body and soul. She was at that time almost a child-a flower not yet in full bloom which he plucked and carried for some time at his bosom. The memory of that could be a reproach only for him; no fault whatever weighed on her. He recollected those moonlight nights on which he stole to the mill; those whispers which were one quiet song of love and intoxication, interrupted only by kisses; he recalled how he clasped to his heart her girlish body, fragrant with the hay of the fields; how he drank the tears from her eyes and how he said to her that he would give up for her all the ladies of all the courts. The idyl passed, but now there wafted upon him from her the breath of the first youthful years, the first love, the first ecstasy, and the truly great poetry of life. Besides, there was truth in what he had confided to Gronski in Jastrzeb: that the girl loved him as no other woman in the world surely would love him. And at the thought of this, his heart began to melt. Together with the wave of recollection, Hanka returned and again engaged his thoughts.

Yes. But that was Hanka and she is Miss Anney. In Ladislaus, from the time he fell in love with her, his senses leaped wildly towards her like a pack of yelping hounds; but he held them in leash because at the same time he knelt before his beloved. She was to him an object of desire but at the same time a sacred relic; something so inaccessible, exalted, pure, and mysterious in its virginity that at the thought that the moment would arrive when he would be the master of those treasures and secrets appeared to him a delight beyond all measure of delight; all the more fathomless as it was, united, as it were, with a sacrilege. And now he had to say to himself that this sacrilege he had already committed; that the charm of something unknown was dispelled; that in this vestal there were for him no mysteries and that he had already drunk from that cup. And this again was one lure less; one disenchantment more. In this manner Miss Anney muddied his recollection of the field peasant-girl, Hanka, – Hanka depreciated the charm of Miss Anney. Both were so different, so unlike each other, that, being unable to merge them into one entity, he vainly intensified that jarring impression with a feeling of disquietude and pain.

In this vexation of spirit there occurred to him one wicked, low, and ugly thought. In what manner did the poor and simple Hanka change into the brilliant Miss Anney? In what manner could a gray sparrow from under a village thatched hut be transformed into a paradisiacal bird? Hanka was a betrayed girl; therefore the bridges had been burnt behind her. Amidst the wealth of a foreign land, beautiful but poor girls have before them only one road to the acquisition of affluence and even polish, and that was the road of shame. Hanka found one patron who took care of her in the appropriate manner; how many similar patrons and protectors could Miss Anney find? At the thought of this Krzycki's head swam. Conscience said to him, "You opened those gates before her," and at the same time he was seized by such anger at Miss Anney and himself that if the life or death of both rested in his hands, he would at that moment have selected death. Something within him was rent asunder; something crashed. It seemed to him that again, just above his head, pealed lightning, which stunned him and burnt, within him, to a crisp, the ability to think.

He wandered a long time over the city. He himself did not know in what manner he again found himself before Pani Otocka's home, but he did not enter for he once more felt that at that time he could not speak with his mother. He returned to his own house late at night. Gronski was already at home, and for an hour had been waiting for him with the tea.

"Good evening," he said, "I have returned from your mother's."

And Ladislaus asked him with blunt impetuosity, "Do you know who Miss Anney is?"

"I do. Pani Otocka told me."

A moment of silence followed.

"What do you say to this?"

"I could ask you that question."

Ladislaus sat heavily in the chair, drew his palm over his forehead and replied with bitter irony:

"Ah, I have time. I was given a week for consideration."

"That is not too much," answered Gronski, looking at him questioningly.

"Certainly. Does Mother also know?"

"Yes. Pani Otocka told her everything."

Again silence ensued.

"My dear Laudie," said Gronski, "I can understand that this must have shocked you, and for that reason I will not speak with you of it until you calm down and regain your equipoise. You must also become familiar with and well weigh the reasons why Miss Anney told only Pani Otocka who she was and why she came to Jastrzeb under her new name, to which, after all, she has a perfect right. Here is a letter from her. She requested me to deliver it to you to-morrow and that is why I did not hand it to you as soon as you appeared. At present I do not think that it would be proper to defer the matter. But do not open it at once nor in my presence. Put it away and read it when alone, when you can ponder over every word. Positively do this. That which has happened moved me to such an extent that for the time being I could not speak of it calmly. To-day I can only give you this advice: be a man and do not allow yourself to be swept away by the current of impressions. Row!"

To this Ladislaus, who sobered up a little under the influence of these words, said:

"I thank you, sir. I will read the letter in privacy. It is now so indispensable to me that I trust, sir, that you will not take it ill of me if I no longer abuse your hospitality. I am sincerely and cordially grateful to you for everything, but I must lock myself up. How long-I do not know. When I am myself again, I will come to you to discuss everything, God grant, more calmly. Now in reality, I see that I was justly given one week's time. But besides time, I feel the need of my own den. I cannot get rid of various thoughts, immensely bitter and even horrible. To-day they hold me by the head and it is necessary that I should hold them by the head-and for that reason I want to have my own den."

"You know how willing I am to please you," answered Gronski; "I understand you, and though in advance I decided not to torment you with any questions, nevertheless, do what is best for yourself. I must tell you also that your mother is moving to a hotel, as she is offended with Pani Otocka. She took umbrage because she did not tell her at once in Jastrzeb who Miss Anney was."

"I confess that I do not understand that-"