Children of the Soil

Pani Kraslavski’s villa was visible now in the distance.

Suddenly it flew into his head that Pani Mashko, through vexation and the feeling of being contemned, through offended self-love, through revenge, might tell Marynia something that would open her eyes. Maybe she would do that with one word, with one smile, giving even, it might be, to understand further, that certain insolent hopes of his had been shattered by her womanly honesty, and in that way explain his absence. Women rarely refuse themselves such small revenges, and still more rarely are they merciful one toward another.

“If I had the courage to go in – ”

At that moment the carriage was even with the gate of the villa.

“Stop!” said Pan Stanislav to the driver.

He saw on the balcony Pani Mashko, who, however, withdrew at once.

He walked through the yard; the servant received him at the door.

“The lady is upstairs,” said he.

Pan Stanislav felt that his legs were trembling under him, when he walked up the steps; meanwhile the following thoughts flew through his head, —

“He may permit himself everything who takes life lightly, but I do not take it lightly. If, after all that I have considered and thought over and said, I could not master myself, I should be the last among men.” Now, standing at the door of the room pointed out by the servant, he inquired, —

“Is it permitted?”

“I beg,” said the thin voice.

And after a while he found himself in Pani Mashko’s boudoir.

“I have come in,” said he, giving her his hand, “to explain that I cannot be at supper. I must go to the city.”

Pani Mashko stood before him with head a little inclined, with drooping eyes, confused, full of evident fear, having in her posture and expression of face something of the resigned victim, which sees that the decisive moment has come, and that the misfortune must happen.

That state of mind came on Pan Stanislav, too, in one flash; hence, approaching her suddenly, he asked with stifled voice, —

“Are you afraid? Of what are you afraid?”

CHAPTER LII

Next morning Pani Polanyetski received a letter from her husband, stating that he would not return that day, for he was going to look at a place situated on the other side of the city. On the following day, however, he returned, and brought Svirski, who had promised Bigiel and Pan Stanislav before that he would visit them at their summer residence.

“Imagine to thyself,” said Pan Stanislav, after greeting his wife, “that that Buchynek, which I have been looking at, lies next to old Zavilovski’s Yasmen; when I learned that, I visited the old man, who is not feeling well, and in Yasmen I found Pan Svirski, unexpectedly. He helped me to look at Buchynek, and the house pleased him much. There is a nice garden, a large pond, and some forest. Once it was a considerable property; but the land has been sold away, so that little remains now with the residence.”

“A pretty, very pretty place,” said Svirski. “There is much shade, much air, and much quiet.”

“Wilt thou buy it?” inquired Marynia.

“Perhaps. Meanwhile I should like to rent it. We could live there the rest of the summer, and satisfy ourselves as to whether it would suit us. The owner is so certain that a stay there will be agreeable to us that he agrees to rent it. I should have given him earnest-money at once, but I wished to know what thy thought would be.”

Marynia was a little sorry to lose the society of the Bigiels; but, noticing that her husband was looking into her eyes earnestly, and that he had an evident wish that they should live the rest of the summer by themselves, she said that she would agree most willingly.

The Bigiels began to oppose, and offer a veto; but when Pan Stanislav represented to them that it was a question of trying a house in which he and Marynia would be likely to live every summer to the end of their lives, they had to confess that the reason was sufficient.

“To-morrow I will engage the place, and carry out all the furniture necessary from Warsaw, and we can move in the day after.”

“That is just as if you wished to flee from us as soon as possible,” said Pani Bigiel; “why such haste?”

“There is no trouble with packing,” answered he, hurriedly; “and you know that I do not like delay.”

Finally it was left in this way: that the Polanyetskis were to go to Buchynek in four days. Now dinner was served, during which Svirski told how Pan Stanislav had found him at Zavilovski’s in Yasmen.

“Panna Helena wished me to paint her father’s portrait,” said he, “and to paint it in Yasmen. I went because I was eager for work, and, besides, the old man has an interesting head. But nothing could come of that. They are in a residence with walls two yards thick; for that reason there is poor light in the rooms. I would not paint under such conditions; and then another hindrance appeared, – the model was attacked by the gout. The doctor, whom they took with them to the country, told me that the old man’s condition is not good, and may end badly.”

“I am sorry for Pan Zavilovski,” said Marynia, “for he seems a worthy man. And poor Panna Helena! In the event of his death she will be quite alone. And does he understand his own condition?”

“He does, and he does not; it is his way. He is always an original. Ask your husband how he received him.”

Pan Stanislav laughed, and said, —

“On the way to Buchynek I learned that Yasmen was near, and I resolved to go there. Panna Helena took me to her father; but he was just finishing his rosary, and did not greet me till he had said the last ‘Hail Mary.’ Then he begged my pardon, and said thus: ‘Those heavenly matadors in their own order; but with Her a man has more courage, and in old fashion, when She is merciful, all is well, for nothing is refused Her.’”

“What a type he is!” exclaimed Svirski.

The Bigiels laughed, but Marynia said that there was something affecting in such confidence. With this Svirski agreed, and Pan Stanislav continued, —

“Then he said that it was time for him to think of his will, and I did not oppose him, in usual fashion, for with me it is a question of our Pan Ignas. On the contrary, I told him that that was a purely legal matter, for which it was never too early, and that even young people ought to think of it.”

“That is my opinion, too,” put in Bigiel.

“We spoke also of Pan Ignas; the old man has come to love him heartily.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Svirski. “When he learned that I had been in Prytulov, he began at once to inquire about him.”

“Then have you been in Prytulov?” inquired Marynia.

“Four days. I like Osnovski immensely.”

“And Pani Osnovski?”

“I gave my opinion in Rome of her, and, as I remember, let my tongue out like a scourge.”

“I remember too. You were very wicked. How is it with the young couple?”

“Oh, nothing! They are happy. But Panna Ratkovski is there, – a very charming young lady. I lacked little of falling in love with her.”

“There it is for you! But Stas told me that you are in love with all ladies.”

“With all, and therefore always in love.”

Bigiel, hearing this, stopped and said earnestly, —

“That is a good way never to marry.”