Children of the Soil

“Thou must.”

“‘Pon my word, I cannot. I have my hands full of work, and I will not befog my head for anything in the world.”

“A stubborn goat, – a regular goat! Then I will drink half a bottle to the happy hour.”

So he ordered it, and asked, —

“What hast thou to do?”

“Various things. Immediately after dinner I must be with Professor Vaskovski.”

“What kind of a figure is that Vaskovski?”

“In fact,” said Pan Stanislav, “an inheritance has fallen to him from his brother, who was a miner, – an inheritance, and a considerable one. But he gives all to the poor.”

“He gives to the poor, but goes to a good restaurant. I like such philanthropists. If I had anything to give the poor, I would deny myself everything.”

“He was ailing a long time, and the doctor ordered him to eat plentifully. But even in that case he eats only what is cheap. He lives in a poor chamber, and rears birds. Next door he has two large rooms; and knowest, uncle, who passes the night in them? Children whom he picks up on the street.”

“It seemed to me right away that he had something here,” said Plavitski, tapping his forehead with his finger.

Pan Stanislav did not find Vaskovski at home; hence after an interview with Mashko he dropped in to see Marynia about five in the afternoon. His conscience was gnawing him for the nonsense he had spoken to Plavitski. “The old man,” said he to himself, “will drink costly wines on account of that codicil; while to my thinking they are living beyond their means already. The joke should not last too long.”

He found Marynia with her hat on. She was going to the Bigiels’, but received him, and since he had not come for a long time, he remained.

“I congratulate you on the inheritance,” said he.

“I am glad myself,” replied she; “it is something sure, and in our position that is important. For that matter, I should like to be as rich as possible.”

“Why so?”

“You remember what you said once, that you would like to have enough to establish a manufactory, and not carry on a mercantile house. I remember that; and since every one has personal wishes, I should like to have much, much money.”

Then, thinking that she might have said too much, and said it too definitely, she began to straighten the fold of her dress, so as to incline her head.

“I came, for another thing, to beg your pardon,” said Pan Stanislav. “To-day at dinner I told a pack of nonsense to Pan Plavitski, saying that Panna Ploshovski had changed her will, perhaps, and left him a whole estate. Beyond my expectation he took it seriously. I should not wish to have him deceive himself; and if you will permit me, I will go at once to him and explain the matter somehow.”

“I have explained it to him already,” said Marynia, smiling; “he scolded me, and that greatly. You see how you have involved matters. You have cause indeed to beg pardon.”

“Therefore I beg.”

And, seizing her hand, he began to cover it with kisses; and she left it with him completely, repeating as if in sarcasm, but with emotion, —

“Ah, the wicked Pan Stas, the wicked Pan Stas!”

That day Pan Stanislav felt on his lips till he fell asleep the warmth of Marynia’s hand; and he thought neither of Mashko nor Gantovski, but repeated to himself with great persistence, —

“It is time to decide this.”

CHAPTER XXV

Kresovski, with a doctor and a case containing pistols, entered one carriage, Pan Stanislav with Mashko another, and the two moved toward Bielany. The day was clear and frosty, full of rosy haze near the ground. The wheels turned with a whining on the frozen snow; the horses were steaming, and covered with frost; on the trees abundant snow was resting.

“Frost that is frost,” said Mashko. “Our fingers will freeze to the triggers. And the delight of removing one’s furs!”

“Then be reconciled; make no delay. My dear man, tell Kresovski to begin the work straightway.”

Here Mashko wiped his damp eye-glass, and added, “Before we reach the place, the sun will be high, and there will be a great glitter from the snow.”

“Finish quickly, then,” answered Pan Stanislav. “Since Kresovski is in time, there will be no waiting for the others; they are used to early rising.”

“Dost know what makes me anxious at this moment?” asked Mashko. “This, that there is in the world one factor with which no one reckons in his plans and actions, and through which everything may be shattered, involved, and ruined, – human stupidity. Imagine me with ten times the mind that I have, and unoccupied with the interests of Pan Mashko. Imagine me, for example, some great statesman, some Bismark or Cavour, who needs to gain property to carry out his plans, and who calculates every step, every word, – what then? A beast like this comes along, stupid beyond human reckoning, and carries all away on his horns. That is something fabulous! Whether this fellow will shoot me or not, is the least account now; but the brute has spoiled my life-work.”

“Who can calculate such a thing?” said Pan Stanislav. “It is as if a roof were to fall on thy head.”

“For that very reason rage seizes me.”

“But as to his shooting thee, don’t think of that.”

Mashko recovered, wiped his glass again, and began, —

“My dear, I see that from the moment of our starting thou hast been observing me a little, and now ’tis thy wish to add to my courage. That is natural. On my part, I must calm thee; and on my word I give assurance that I will not shame thee. I feel a little disquiet, – that is simple; but knowest why? That which constitutes danger of life, the firing at one, is nothing. Let weapons be given me and him; let us into the woods. God knows that I should fire away at that idiot half a day, and meet his shots half a day. I have had a duel already, and know what it is. It is the comedy that disconcerts one, the preparations, the seconds, the idea that men will look at thee, and the fear touching how thou wilt appear, how thou wilt acquit thyself. It is simply a public exhibition, and a question of self-love, – nothing more. For nervous natures a genuine trial. But I am not over nervous. I understand, also, that in this regard I am superior to my opponent, for I am more accustomed to men. ’Tis true such an ass has less imagination, and is not able to think; for example, how he would look as a corpse; how he would begin to decay, and so on. Still I shall be able to command myself better. Besides, I will tell thee another thing: Philosophy is philosophy; but in matters like this the decisive elements are temperament and passion. This duel will not bring me to anything, will not save me in any regard; on the contrary, it may bring me to trouble. But still I cannot deny it to myself, so much indignation has collected in my soul, I so hate that idiot, and would like so to crush and trample him, – that I cease to reason. Thou mayest be certain of one thing, – that as soon as I see the face of the blockhead I shall forget disquiet, forget the comedy, and see only him.”

“I understand that well enough,” said Pan Stanislav.

And the spots on Mashko’s face increased and became blue from the frost, wherewith he had a look as stubborn as it was ugly.

Meanwhile they arrived. Almost simultaneously squeaked the carriage bringing Gantovski, with Yamish and Vilkovski. When they alighted, these gentlemen saluted their opponents; then the seven, counting the doctor, withdrew to the depth of the forest to a place selected on the preceding day by Kresovski.

The drivers, looking at the seven overcoats outlined strangely on the snow, began to mutter to themselves.

“Do you know what is going to happen?” asked one.

“Is it my first time?” answered the other.

“Let the world grow polite; let fools go to fight!”

Meanwhile the seven, clattering on in their heavy overshoes, and blowing lines of white steam from their nostrils, went toward the other end of the forest. On the way, Yamish, somewhat against the rules binding in such cases, approached Pan Stanislav, and began, —

“I wished sincerely that my man should beg pardon of Pan Mashko, but under the conditions it is not possible.”

“I proposed to Mashko, too, to tone down that note, but he would not.”

“Then there is no escape. All this is immensely foolish, but there is no escape!”

Pan Stanislav did not answer, and they walked on in silence. Pan Yamish began to speak again, —

“But I hear that Marynia Plavitski has received some inheritance?”