Whirlpools

The procession paused for a while on account of an obstruction on the road; so conversing, they drew nearer to the coffin; nevertheless, Swidwicki, though lowering his voice, did not cease to talk:

"Ay, sir-a great many people think the same as I do; only they have not the courage to say it aloud. After all, I reiterate it is all one to me, – we are lost past all help. With us there are only whirlpools. – And these, not whirlpools upon a watery gulf, beneath which is a calm depth, but whirlpools of sand. Now the whirlwind blows from the East and the sterile sand buries our traditions, our civilization, our culture-our whole Poland-and transforms her into a wilderness upon which flowers perish and only jackals can live."

Here he pointed to Marynia's coffin:

"Lo, there is a flower which has withered. Do you know, sir, why I, though a relative, seldom visited them? Because I felt ashamed before her eyes."

They reached the station and went upon the roadway, from which could be seen the coach, decorated with flowers and fir-tree boughs.

"Are you riding to Zalesin?" asked the doctor.

"I am. I want to gaze at Pani Otocka. God knows what now will become of her. And see, sir, how Gronski looks. An old man-what? Now his Latin and books will not help him."

"Who would not have felt this," answered the doctor. "Krzycki also looks as if he were taken off the cross."

"Krzycki? But perhaps it is because his matrimonial plans are broken."

Further conversation was interrupted by the orchestra which began to play Chopin's "Funeral March."

XVII

Dr. Szremski upon his return to the hotel began to ponder over Swidwicki's words, which were imbedded deeply in his memory. Before his eyes there glided a picture of the funeral procession and that coffin, with the victim, murdered by those to whom she wanted to do good. "Yes, yes!" he said to himself, "that apparently was a mistake, but similar mistakes are the logical consequences of the unbridled, blind, animal instincts. We must admit that we are flying at break-neck speed into some bottomless abyss. And not only we. But is it allowable to conclude from this, that, as to-day we conducted song, murdered by the rabble, so after ten, twenty, or fifty years we will witness the burial of learning, culture, and civilization? Apparently-yes. It is high time that God, Who rules the world, should give new proofs that He in reality rules. It ought to thunder so that the earth would tremble-or what? Mankind are entering upon a road which is directly opposite to entire nature. For the whole endeavor of nature is to create as perfect beings as possible and through them to ennoble the species; and humanity perversely kills them as it did that angelic child, or else seizes them by the hair to drag them from the heights to the general level. And nevertheless this is but a specious appearance. If the engineers determined to excavate all the mountains and make the earth as smooth and even as a billiard ball, some convulsions would take place, some eruptions of volcanoes would occur, which would create new abysses and new heights. Of the Aryan spirit can be said that which the Grecians, enamoured with the soothing architectonical lines, said of the Roman arches: 'The arch will never fall asleep.' Likewise the Aryan spirit. The humanity, which possesses it, is incapable of drifting into infinity on one wave, thinking one thought and living in one idea. That which is to-day-will pass away. On the summits of reason, feeling, and will, new whirlwinds will generate and they will raise new waves."

Here the doctor's thoughts were apparently directed nearer to matters lying more on his heart, for he began to clench his fist and pace with big, uneasy steps about the room.

"Will we," he said to himself, "however, remain amidst these convulsions, waves, and whirlwinds? Whirlpools? Whirlpools! – and of sand! Sand is burying the whole of Poland and transforming her into a wilderness, on which jackals live. If this is so, then it would be best to put a bullet in the head. – I am curious as to what Gronski would say to this-but lightning has struck his head and it is of no use to speak to him. – We are lost past all help? That is untrue! Beneath these whirlpools which are whirling upon the surface of our life is something which Swidwicki did not perceive. There is more than elsewhere, for there is a bottomless depth of suffering. There plainly is not in the world greater misfortune than ours. With us the people awake in the morning and follow the plough in the field, go to the factory, to the offices, behind the benches in the shops, and all manner of labor-in pain. They go to sleep in pain. That suffering is as boundless as the expanse of the sea while the whirlpools are but ripples upon that expanse. And why do we suffer thus? Of course, we might, at once, to-morrow, breathe more freely and be happier. It would be sufficient for every one to say to Her, that Poland, of whom Swidwicki says that she is perishing, 'Too much dost Thou pain me, too much dost Thou vex me; therefore I renounce Thee and from this day wish to forget Thee.'-And nevertheless nobody says that; not even such a Swidwicki, who prevaricated when he said it is all one to him; not even they who throw bombs, and murder sisters and brothers! – And if it is so that we prefer to suffer than renounce Her, then where are the jackals and where is Her destruction? Jackals seek carrion, not suffering! So She lives in every one of us, in all of us together, and will survive all the whirlpools in the world. And we will set our teeth and will continue to suffer for Thee, Mother, and we-and if God so wills it, – and our children and grandchildren will not renounce neither Thee nor hope."

Here Szremski was touched by his own thoughts, but dawn brightened his countenance. He found an answer to the question which Swidwicki thrust into his soul. Walking, he began to repeat: "For nothing, nobody would consent to suffer thus." After which it occurred to his mind that to suffer for Her was not yet sufficient, for he began to rub his hands and turn up his rumpled sleeves, as if he wanted at once to do some important and urgent work. But, after a while, he observed that he was in the hotel, so he smiled, with his sincere, peculiar smile, and said aloud:

"Ha! It cannot be helped. To-morrow I must return to my hole and push the wheelbarrow along."

And suddenly he sighed:

"To my solitary hole."

After which, he, himself, not knowing why, recollected what Swidwicki had told him about the breaking of Krzycki's matrimonial engagement, and his thoughts, like winged birds, began to fly to Zalesin.

THE END

notes

1

"Even bird's milk is not lacking," a Polish proverbial expression signifying "abundance," "living in clover."

2

"On the thief's head the cap burns: " a Polish proverb meaning that persons, conscious of guilt, always fear detection. – Translator.

3

"Sprinkled his eyes with poppy: " proverbial expression denoting "lulled to sleep." – Translator.

4

Kilinski was one of the bravest and most popular heroes who fought under Kosciuszko. He was a shoe-maker by trade. – Translator.

5

Bigos: a Polish dish of hashed meat and cabbage. – Translator.

6

Peter Skarga was the most famous pulpit orator in the history of Poland. – Translator.

7

"Poland is not yet lost."

8

Referring to the Sacred Fire of pagan Lithuanians.

9

Mamalyga, a kind of porridge in Bessarabia, made principally of corn.

10

Piast; the name of the first King of Poland, who was a peasant.

11

Stanislaus Augustus Poniatowski, the last king of Poland.

12

"Skubanka," a pun upon the word, "skubac," to pluck.