II
The very next day after the escape from the police Pauly visited Laskowicz and afterwards called to see him as often as she could find leisure time, selecting, nevertheless, hours when Swidwicki was not at home. But this did not present great difficulties as Swidwicki usually rose about noon, after which he went away and did not return until late at night. The girl was not induced to make these frequent visits by any sentimentality nor exceptional benevolence for the young student. She even felt, particularly in the first moments, that she could despise him. But women love in general to look at close range at their good deeds and to behold, even daily, the people for whom they have become providential angels; and again Laskowicz, with every word, disclosed to her worlds of whose existence she heretofore had never guessed. About socialists thus far she knew almost nothing, except what a certain old female cook once told her, that “they do not believe in God and do not eat ducks”; and she only heard that they threw bombs and shot from revolvers. After the attack upon Krzycki howsoever much she, together with all the servants in Jastrzeb, was convinced that it was perpetrated by Rzeslewo men, nevertheless, the supposition that it might have been the socialists reached her ears, and then she was inflamed against them with a temporary ungovernable hatred. But now she was learning that they were people of an entirely different stamp. She did not yet understand what in general they wanted, but understood in particular that those people desired that she, Paulina Kielkowna, should be a kind of lady like Miss Anney or Pani Otocka. And as a bee sips juice from flowers, so she, from the words of the young fanatic, extracted nourishment for her envy, her pain, her feelings. Her heart began to draw her towards that “Party,” which appeared to her as a Providence and as a power; and to this was joined the purely feminine curiosity of the awful secrets of that power. Laskowicz quickly observed that the seed fell upon fit soil; and when once, for uttering inadvertently a disparaging word against Krzycki, the girl almost scratched out his eyes, he surmised her secret and determined to exploit her, not only for the good of the cause but also for his own personal ends.
Although Pauly was not the servant of Pani Otocka but of Miss Anney, she nevertheless dwelt in the same house; so he could, through her, secure news of Marynia, which he craved with all his soul; he could quiet his fears as to Krzycki’s intentions, could speak of her and hear her name; and finally could gain information as to when and where he could see her, though from a distance. And he questioned Panna Pauly about all this; at first cautiously and casually, afterwards more and more, and at last so incessantly that this began to surprise and anger her. Prone to extremes, and more capable of hatred than affection, she worshipped, by way of exception, Marynia, regarding her as a sort of supernal being, and this worship in her was as violent as was her hatred. On the other hand, on the ideal path, in the direction of universal equality and dislike of the higher classes she made in a brief time considerable progress. She could not however, cast off at once her former notions, and she frequently had sudden relapses to them. Hence at one time, when Laskowicz as usual began to hurl questions at her about Panna Marynia, she answered him testily:
“Why are you always talking about Panna Zbyltowska?”
“Perhaps I am in love with her,” retorted the student, knitting his brow.
At this her eyes in a moment blazed with rage.
“What more yet?”
And he began to peer at her keenly and asked:
“Why does the little lady say ‘what more yet’?”
“For you are as suited for her as I am—”
And she paused abruptly, but he finished:
“To Pan Krzycki, for instance.”
Then she burst into a greater rage yet.
“Why do you meddle in matters that do not concern you?”
“I do not meddle in anything. I say only if the little lady fell in love with him and if I, hearing of it, said ‘What more yet?’ that would be disagreeable to the little lady? And it would be justly disagreeable. For if the priests prate that it is permissible to love even God, why not a human being? It is permissible for the little lady, it is permissible for me, it is permissible for everybody, for that is the law of nature and therefore our law.”
The words seconded that which was hidden in the girl’s heart too much for her anger to remain, so she only glanced at Laskowicz, as if in sorrow, and replied:
“Eh! Much good will come of that law!”
“It will come or not come, in time. After all, if we adjusted the world in our own way, no dog would bark at such things. Is not the little lady worthy of Krzycki? Why not? Is it because he is richer? That is just what we are trying to prevent. Then what? Education? Lady, spit upon it. That education you can teach to a monkey. It is he, if the little lady wanted him, who ought yet to kiss the little lady’s feet.”
But she again became impatient and replied:
“Idle talk.”
“I also want only to say that in case I should fall in love with Panna Marynia and the little lady with Krzycki, our lot would be identical and the wrong the same.”
“Wrong in what?”
“In the vile institutions of this world; in this, that such riff-raff as ourselves are permitted to love only to suffer, and we are not allowed to raise our eyes even upon the bourgeoisie, even though the hearts within should whine like dogs.”
“True,” answered the girl through set teeth. “But what of it?”
“This: that we ought to give to each other our hands, as brother and sister, and not be angry at each other, but assist one another. Who knows whether one may not be of service to the other?”
“Eh! In what way can we help each other?”
And he again began to gaze fixedly at her with his eyes set so closely to each other and said, uttering each word slowly:
“I do not know whether Krzycki is in love with Panna Marynia or with that Englishwoman whom the little lady serves; or perhaps with neither of them.”
In one moment Pauly’s face was covered with a pallor; afterwards a flame passed over it, which in turn gave way to pallor. In her soul there might have been dumb fears, but up to that time she had dared not put to herself any questions. Those ladies were entertained in Jastrzeb as guests. Pani Otocka and Panna Marynia were Krzycki’s relatives; therefore there was nothing unusual in their relations. On the other hand, when the “Englishwoman” in Jastrzeb drove for the doctor and later nursed the wounded man, that was a time when the heart of the girl raged with jealousy and uneasiness. Afterwards she was placated by the thought that such a young nobleman would not wed a foreign “intruder,” no matter how wealthy, but, at present, jealousy pierced her like a knife.
Laskowicz continued:
“The little lady asked in what way we can help one another, did she not?”
“Yes.”
“At least in — revenge,”
After which, he changed the conversation.
“Let the little lady come to me and, if I sometimes inquire about anything, let her not get angry. If at times it is hard for her, it is not easy for me. One lot, one wrong. Let the little lady come. I do not want to live with Swidwicki any longer. He is a peculiar man. I know that he did not take me out of the goodness of his heart, but as he placed himself in peril on my account I must endure everything from him. In the meantime he so maligns our party that I feel an impulse to shoot him in the head or stab him with a knife.”
“Why do you argue with that old goat?”
“Because he talks and I must listen. Often he goads me into a reply. Somebody else for lesser things would get a knife under the ribs.”
“But I will not be able to hide you a second time, for I do not know where.”
“No. I myself will find some sort of hole; I have already thought of that. Our people will help. I now have a passport and am bleached yellow on the head. Some of my associates could not recognize me. Even if I am caught they will not try me as Laskowicz but as Zaranczko of Bessarabia, unless some one should betray me,
but such there is not among us.”
“Only be careful, sir, and when you know where to hide, let me know. I will not betray.”
“I know, I know; such do not betray.”
After which he suddenly asked:
“Why does not the little lady want to agree that we should call each other ‘associates’? Amongst us we all speak that way.”
But she rebuffed him at once.
“I told you once I cannot endure that.”
“Ah, if it is so, then it is hard.”
Pauly began to prepare for home. Laskowicz on the leave-taking made a second departure from the customs governing his associates, for he kissed her hand. Previously he had noticed that this raised her in her own eyes; that it flattered her and brought her into a good humor. Although not by nature over-intelligent, he observed that the principles of the Party alone would not entirely hold her, and that he would have in that girl an aid capable of all extremes, but only so far as her own personality entered into the play. This lowered the opinion which he held of her and his gratitude to her. He nevertheless submitted to this despotism, remembering that he owed to her his life.
At present he had, besides, a favor to ask of her; so at the door he kissed her hand a second time and said:
“Panna Pauly — the same lot, the same wrong. Let the little lady answer yet one more question. Where can I see though from a distance — though from a distance—”
“Whom?” she asked, knitting her brows.
“Panna Marynia.”
“If from a distance, then I will tell,” she replied reluctantly. “The little lady is to play for the starving working people and at noon goes to the rehearsals.”
“Alone?”
“No, with Pani Otocka or with my mistress; but sometimes with one of us servants.”
“Thank you.”
“But only from a distance — do you understand, sir, — for otherwise you will fare badly.”
And after these words, which sounded like a menace, she left him. The next moment Laskowicz heard through the door Swidwicki’s voice and laughter, after which something resembling a scuffle, a suppressed scream, and — the sound of hasty footsteps on the stairs; finally Swidwicki stumbled into the room, drunk.
“What were you doing here?” he asked.
“Nothing,” answered Laskowicz.
And he began to scan the room, evidently desiring to satisfy himself whether he could not detect some signs of disorder, and repeated:
“Nothing!”
“I give you my word of honor,” the student exclaimed with energy.
At this Swidwicki leered at him, fingering his disheveled beard and said:
“Then you are a fool!”
After which he flung himself upon the sofa, for he had partaken of a sumptuous breakfast and was sleepy.
III
Laskowicz’s extreme fanaticism could not in reality harmonize with the extreme cynical scepticism of Swidwicki, who in addition took advantage of the situation not only beyond measure, but to the point of cruelty. He himself spoke of it and boasted about it to Gronski, when he met him in the restaurant, to which Gronski went after Krzycki’s removal.
“I have enough of my revolutionary maggot,” he said, “I have enough of him, especially since I have satisfied myself that personally he is honest and will not pilfer any money from my pocket-book. From that time he has bored me. As for harboring such a simpleton one might go to Siberia. I regarded it in the beginning as a species of sport. I thought I would have a permanent sensation of a certain anxiety and, in the meantime, I have not experienced anything of the kind. The only satisfaction which I have is to point out to him his own stupidity and that of his party. By that I drive him to rabidness.”
“But that he cares to argue with you—”
“He does not want to but is unable to restrain himself. His temperament and fanaticism carry him away.”
“At one time I met a similar individual,” answered Gronski, “and not very long ago — out in the country, in Jastrzeb. He was a student, a tutor of Stas, whom Krzycki later discharged because he incited the field hands and was an agitator among peasants of the neighborhood.”
“Ah,” ejaculated, with a strange smile, Swidwicki, to whom it occurred that Pauly also was at Jastrzeb.
“What? Why do you smile?” asked Gronski.
“Oh, nothing. Speak further.”
“I rode with him once to the city and on the way had quite a chat with him.”
“According to your habit.”
“According to my habit. Now among empty phrases, which only dull minds would accept as genuine coin, he said some interesting things. I learned a little about the angle from which they view the world.”
“My maggot at times says interesting things. Yesterday I led him into the admission that socialists of the pure water regard as their greatest enemies the peasants and the radical members of the bourgeoisie. I began to pour oil on the fire and he unbosomed himself. An unsophisticated peasant aspires to ownership, and that aspiration the devil cannot eradicate, and as to the bourgeoisie he spoke thus: ‘What harm,’ he said, ‘do these few nobles and priests who infest the world do to us? Our enemy is the bourgeois, rich or poor. Our enemy is the radical, who thinks that as soon as he shouts that he does not believe in God and priests that he buys us. Our enemy is that boaster, who speaks in the name of the common people and is ready to tickle us under the armpits, so that we should smile on him. He is the one who fawns on us, like a dog at a roll of butter, and preserves all the instincts of a bourgeois.’ And he chattered further until I said: ‘Hold on! Why, you are with the radicals “fratres Helenae!”’ And he to this: ‘That is not true! The radical, wealthy bourgeois, who from fear dyes in red and borrows the standard and methods from us, introduces confusion in minds and drabbles in the mud our idea; and the poor one, if he annually saves even the smallest amount, injures us for he offers to work at a lower price than the pure proletaire, who always is as poor as Job. We,’ he said, ‘will put the knife, above all things, to the throats of the bourgeois for latent treachery lurks in him.’ Thus he chattered and I was willing to concede justice to him, if in general I believed in justice, but I did not concede it yet for another reason, and that is, he is too stupid to have reasoned out such things. It was evident that he repeated what others taught him. In fact I did not neglect to tell him so.”
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Dolhanski who, observing Gronski, approached him, although he disliked to meet Swidwicki.
“How are you?” he said, “My ladies took a trip to Czestochowo; so I am free. Will you permit me to be seated with you?”
“Certainly, certainly. Why, these are your last days.”
“It would be worth while even for that reason to drink a little bottle,” observed Swidwicki, “particularly as it is, besides, my birthday.”
“If the calendar was a wine-cellar and the dates in it bottles, then your birthday would occur every day,” answered Gronski.
“I swear to you upon everything at which I jeer, that, contrary to my habit and inclination, this time I speak the truth.”
Saying this, he nodded to the waiter and ordered him to bring two bottles, calculating that afterwards more would be forthcoming. In the meantime Dolhanski said:
“I met Krzycki to-day. He looks poorly; somehow not himself, and he told me that he does not live with you but in a hotel. Did you by chance quarrel?”
“No. But he moved away from me and Pani Krzycki from Pani Otocka’s.”
“There is some kind of epidemic,” exclaimed Swidwicki, “for my cutthroat is leaving me.”
“Perhaps something has passed between Krzycki and Miss Anney,” said Dolhanski. “I supposed that they were getting quite intimate. Did they part — or what?”
“A marchpane, that Englishwoman,” interrupted Swidwicki; “but her maid has more electricity in her.”
Gronski hesitated for a while; after which he said:
“No, they have not parted, but something has occurred. I do not know why I should make a secret of that which, sooner or later, you will find out. It has developed that Miss Anney is not the born, but adopted, child of the rich English manufacturer, lately deceased, Mr. Anney, and of his late wife.”
“Well, if the adoption gives her all the rights, and particularly the right of inheritance, is it not all the same to Krzycki?”
“The adoption gives her all rights; nevertheless it is not entirely the same to Krzycki, for it appears that Miss Anney is the daughter of a blacksmith of Rzeslewo and is named Hanka Skibianka.”
“Ha!” cried Swidwicki, “Perdita has been found but not the king’s daughter. What does the pretty Florizel say to this?”
But Dolhanski began to stare at Gronski as if he saw him for the first time in his life.
“What are you saying?”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 606