Children of the Soil

“Pan Gantovski,” interrupted Pan Stanislav, “it is a pity to lose words. I have known your neighborhood from the time I was a little boy. What is Yalbrykov, and what have you in Yalbrykov?”

It was true, Yalbrykov was a poor little village, with nine vlokas of land; and, besides, Gantovski had, as is usual, inherited debts higher than his ears; so his hands dropped at his sides. It occurred to him, however, that perhaps matters did not stand as Pan Stanislav represented them; and he grasped at this thought as at a plank of salvation.

“I do not understand what you say,” said he. “God is my witness that I would choose my own ruin rather than injure the Plavitskis; and know this, that I would be glad to twist the neck of Pan Mashko; but, if it is necessary, – if it is a question of the Plavitskis, – then let the devils take me first!

“Immediately after the scandal, I went to Pan Yamish, who is here at the session, and told him all. He said that I had committed a folly, and scolded me, it is true. If it were a question of my skin, it would be nothing, – I would not move a finger; but, since it touches something else, I will do what Pan Yamish tells me, even should a thunderbolt split me next moment. Pan Yamish lives at the Hotel Saxe, and so do I.”

They parted on this; and Gantovski went to his hotel, cursing Mashko, himself, and Polanyetski. He felt that it must be as Polanyetski had said, – that some incurable misfortune had happened, – and that he had wrought grievous injustice against that same Panna Marynia for whom he would have given his last drop of blood; he felt that if there had been for him any hope, he had destroyed it completely. Plavitski would close his door on him. Panna Marynia would marry Polanyetski, unless he didn’t want her. But who would not want her? And, at the same time, Pan Gantovski saw clearly that among those who might ask her hand, he was the last man she would marry. “What have I? Nothing,” said he to himself; “that measly Yalbrykov, nothing more, – neither good name nor money. Every man knows something; I alone know nothing. Every one means something; I alone mean nothing. That Polanyetski has learning and money; but that I love her better, – the devils to me for that, and as much to her, if I am such an idiot that through loving I harm instead of helping her.”

Pan Stanislav, on his way home, thought of Gantovski in the same way, and in general had not for him even one spark of sympathy. At home he found Mashko, who had been waiting an hour, and who said, as greeting, —

“Kresovski will be the other second.”

Pan Stanislav made somewhat of a wry face, and answered, —

“I have seen Gantovski.”

“And what?”

“He is a fool.”

“He is that, first of all. Hast thou spoken to him in my name?”

“Not in thy name. As a relative of Pan Plavitski, I told him that he had given Pan Plavitski the worst service in the world.”

“You gave no explanations?”

“None. Hear me, Mashko: it is a question for thee of complete satisfaction; it is no point for me that ye should shoot each other. In virtue of what I have told Gantovski, he is ready to agree to all thy conditions. Happily, he has committed himself to Yamish. Yamish is a mild, prudent man, who understands also that Gantovski has acted like an idiot, and will be glad to give him a lesson.”

“Very well,” said Mashko. “Give me a pen and piece of paper.”

“Thou hast them at the desk.”

Mashko sat down and wrote. When he had finished, he gave the written sheet to Pan Stanislav, who read as follows: —

“I testify this day that I attacked Pan Mashko while I was drunk, in a state of unconsciousness, and without giving myself account of what I was saying. To-day, having become sober, in presence of my seconds, the seconds of Pan Mashko, and the persons who were present at the scene, I acknowledge my act as rude and senseless, and turn with the greatest sorrow and contrition to the good sense and kindness of Pan Mashko, begging him for forgiveness, and acknowledging publicly that his conduct was and is in everything above the judgment of men like me.”

“Gantovski is to declaim this, and then subscribe it,” said Mashko.

“This is devilishly unmerciful; no one will agree to it,” said Pan Stanislav.

“Dost thou acknowledge that this fool has permitted to himself something unheard of with reference to me?”

“I do.”

“And remember what result this adventure may have for me?”

“It is impossible to know that.”

“Well, I know; but I will tell thee only this much, – those ladies will regret from their souls that they are bound to me, and will use every pretext which will excuse them before society. That is certain; I am ruined almost beyond rescue.”

“The devil!”

“Thou canst understand now that what is troubling me must be ground out on some one, and that Gantovski must pay me for the injustice in one form or another.”

“Neither have I any tenderness for him. Let it be so,” said Pan Stanislav, shrugging his shoulders.

“Kresovski will come for thee to-morrow morning at nine.”

“Very well.”

“Then, till we meet again. By the way, should you see Plavitski to-morrow, tell him that his relative, Panna Ploshovski, from whom he expected an inheritance, has died in Rome. Her will was here with her manager, Podvoyni, and is to be opened to-morrow.”

“Plavitski knows of that already, for she died five days ago.”

Pan Stanislav was left alone. For a certain time he thought of his money without being able to foresee a method by which he might receive it from the bankrupt Mashko, and the thought disturbed him. He remembered, however, that the debt could not be removed from the mortgage on Kremen until it was paid in full; that in this last case he would continue as he had been previously, – a creditor of Kremen. Kremen, it is true, was not a much better debtor than Mashko, hence this was no great consolation; but for the time he was forced to be satisfied with it. Later on, something else also came to his head. He remembered Litka, Pani Emilia, Marynia, and he was struck by this, – how the world of women, a world of feelings purely, a world whose great interest lies in living in the happiness of those near us, differs from the world of men, a world full of rivalry, struggles, duels, encounters, angers, torments, and efforts for acquiring property. He recognized at that moment what he had not felt before, – that if there be solace, repose, and happiness on earth, they are to be sought from a loving woman. This feeling was directly opposed to his philosophy of the last few days, hence it disturbed him. But, in comparing further those two worlds, he could not withhold the acknowledgment that that feminine and loving world has its foundation and reason of existence.

If Pan Stanislav had been more intimate with the Holy Scriptures, beyond doubt the words, “Mary has chosen the better part,” would have occurred to him.

CHAPTER XXIV

Kresovski was almost an hour late on the following morning. He was, according to a noted description among us, one of the administrators of fresh air in the city, – that is, one of the men who do nothing. He had a name sufficiently famous, and had squandered rather a large fortune. On these two foundations he lived, he went everywhere, and was recognized universally as a man of good breeding. How the above titles can provide a man everything is the secret of great cities; it is enough that not only Kresovski’s position was recognized and certain, but he was considered a person to whom it was possible to apply with safety in delicate questions. In courts of honor he was employed as an arbiter; in duels, as a second. High financial circles were glad to invite him to dinners, weddings, christenings, and solemnities of that sort, since he had a patrician baldness, and a countenance extremely Polish; hence he ornamented a table perfectly.

He was a man in the essence of things greatly disenchanted with people, a little consumptive, and very satirical. He possessed, however, a certain share of humor, which permitted him to see the laughable side of things, especially of very small things; in this he resembled Bukatski somewhat, and made sport of his own fault-finding. He permitted others to make sport of it also, but within measure. When the measure was passed, he straightened himself suddenly, and squeezed people to excess; in view of this he was looked on as dangerous. It was said of him that in a number of cases he had found courage where many would have lacked it, and that, in general, he could “carry his nose high.” He did not respect any one nor anything, except his own really very noble physiognomy; time, especially, he did not respect, for he was late always and everywhere. Coming in to Pan Stanislav’s on this occasion, he began at once, after the greeting, to explain his tardiness, —

“Have you not noticed,” asked he, “that if a man is in a real hurry, and very anxious to hasten, the things he needs most vanish purposely? The servant seeks his hat, – it is gone; looks for his overshoes, – they are not there; hunts for his pocket-book, – it is not to be had. I will wager that this is so always.”

“It happens thus,” said Pan Stanislav.

“I have, in fact, invented a cure. When something has gone from me as if it had fallen into water, I sit down, smile, and say aloud: ‘I love to lose a thing in this way, I do passionately;’ my man looks for it, becomes lively, stirs about, passes the time, – that is very wholesome and agreeable. And what will you say? Right away the lost article is found.”

“A patent might be taken for such an invention,” answered Pan Stanislav; “but let us speak of Mashko’s affair.”

“We must go to Yamish. Mashko has sent me a paper which he has written for Gantovski. He is unwilling to change a word; but it is an impossible statement, too harsh, – it cannot be accepted. I understand that a duel is waiting for us, nothing else; I see no other outcome.”

“Gantovski has intrusted himself to Pan Yamish in everything, and he will do all that Yamish commands. But Yamish, to begin with, is also indignant at Gantovski; secondly, he is a sick man, mild, calm, so that who knows that he may not accept such conditions.”

“Pan Yamish is an old dotard,” said Kresovski; “but let us go, for it is late.”

They went out. After a while the sleigh halted before the hotel. Pan Yamish was waiting for them, but he received them in his dressing-gown, for he was really in poor health. Kresovski, looking at his intelligent, but careworn and swollen face, thought, —

“He is really ready to agree to everything.”

“Sit down, gentlemen,” said Pan Yamish; “I came only three days ago, and though I do not feel well, I am glad, for perhaps the affair may be settled. Believe me that I was the first to rub the ears of my water-burner.”

Here he shrugged his shoulders, and, turning to Pan Stanislav, inquired, —

“What are the Plavitskis doing? I have not visited them yet, though I long to see my golden Marynia.”