“Though thou art becoming a Jew, as I see, I congratulate thee!”
“Though thou art becoming a fool, as I see, I thank thee,” and we embrace with all our strength. Poterkevich mentions that it is dry in his throat. I haven’t a copper; but Antek has two rubles; others have as much. A contribution follows, and punch. They drink my health, throw me up again; and because I tell them that the affair with the Suslovskis is settled, they drink Kazia’s health also. With that Antek comes to me and says, —
“Dost think, youthful idiot, that they hadn’t read the despatch before the young woman wrote to thee?”
Oh, the monkey! how gladly I would give him a club on the head. On one side the horizon was growing bright for me; on the other, the devil was darkening it. Anything might be expected of the Suslovskis; but that Kazik 17 should be capable of such calculation!
Still it was very likely that they had read the despatch at the waters in the morning, and invited me straightway. At the first moment I want to fly to the Suslovskis, and stand before their eyes. But I cannot leave my company. Meanwhile Ostrynski comes, elegant, cold, self-confident, gloved as usual. Shrewdness is shining from him, as light from a fire, for he is a rogue in full armor. From the threshold he begins to wave his cane protectingly, and says, —
“Congratulations to the master; I too congratulate.”
He uttered that “I” with an emphasis, as if congratulation from him meant more than from any other man. Perhaps it did really.
“How much you have invented!” cried I; “as truly as you see me here, I learned all about myself in ‘The Kite.’”
“How does that concern me?” asked Ostrynski.
“I said nothing about exhibiting the picture either.”
“But now you do,” answered he, phlegmatically.
“And he has no mother, so his mother has not grown weak!” cried Voytek Mihalak.
“That concerns me little,” repeated Ostrynski, with dignity taking off his second glove.
“But is the despatch true?”
“True.”
That assurance pacifies me thoroughly. Through thankfulness I pour out punch for him. He puts his lips to the edge of the glass, drinks a sip, and says, —
“First to your health, and a second draught I drink you know to whom. I congratulate you doubly.”
“Where do you get your information?”
Ostrynski shrugs his shoulders. “Suslovski was in the editorial rooms before eight o’clock this morning.”
Antek begins to mutter something about mean people in general; I can restrain myself no longer; I seize my hat. Ostrynski follows me out; but I leave him on the street; and a couple of minutes later I am ringing at Suslovski’s for the second time. Kazia opens the door; her parents are not at home.
“Kazia!” ask I, severely, “didst thou know of the despatch?”
“I knew,” answered she, calmly.
“But, Kazik!”
“What was to be done, my dear? Do not wonder at my parents; they must of course have some reasonable cause to accept thee.”
“But thou, Kazia?”
“I seized the first opportunity; dost take that ill of me, Vladek?”
The question grows clear, and it seems to me that Kazia is perfectly right. Speaking plainly, why did I rush hither like a madman? Kazia comes up and rests her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her waist; she drops her face toward my arm, closes her eyes, pushes up her rosy mouth and whispers, —
“No, no, Vladek! not now — only after marriage, I implore thee.”
In view of that request, I press her lips to mine, and we remain in that way as long as the process of breathing permits. Kazia’s eyes become languishing. At last, she screens them with her arm, and says, —
“But I begged thee not to—”
The reproach and the look melt me to such a degree that I kiss her a second time. When you love some one, you have naturally a greater desire to give a kiss than a blow to that person. And I love Kazia beyond measure and wit, during life till death, after death! She, or none, and that’s the end of it!
Kazia, with panting voice, expresses the fear that I have lost respect for her. Dearest creature, what nonsense she utters! I pacify her as best I can, and we begin to talk reasonably.
An agreement is made between us that if the parents pretend that they heard of the despatch only after my coming, I am not to let them know that I am aware how affairs stand. I bid farewell then to Kazia, promising to come in the evening.
In fact, I must rush to the office of the Society for Promoting Fine Arts; through it I can communicate most easily with the secretary of the Salon.
CHAPTER III.
I SEND a despatch stating that I accept Baron Hirsch’s price; but stipulate, first, to exhibit the picture in Warsaw, etc.
For the sending of despatches and other needs I borrow money in the institution. It is given without hesitation. Everything goes as if on oil.
In “The Kite” and “The Courier” appears my biography, in which, however, there is not one word of truth; but as Ostrynski says, “How can that concern me?” I have received also a request from two illustrated papers; they wish to publish my portrait and reproduce my picture. Let them do so. Money will be as abundant as water.
CHAPTER IV.
A WEEK later I receive the earnest money from Baron Hirsch. The remainder will be paid when the purchaser obtains possession of the canvas. Meanwhile, the Bank of Commerce fires onto the table for me five thousand francs in louis d’or. In life I have not seen so much money. I come home laden down like a mule.
There is an assembly in the studio. I throw my coin on the floor; and since I have never wallowed in gold, I begin to wallow in it. After me Antek wallows. The house-owner comes in, and thinks that we have lost our senses. We amuse ourselves like cannibals.
CHAPTER V.
ONE day Ostrynski informs me that he feels happy that he got a basket from Kazia, for prospects are opening before him of which I cannot have the least idea.
I am very glad of this, or rather, it is all one to me; I believe meanwhile that Ostrynski will take care of himself in this life. When he was trying for Kazia, her parents were on his side, especially Father Suslovski; Ostrynski had even a complete preponderance over him, pushed to the degree that that Roman lost his statuesqueness in presence of this suitor. Kazia, however, could not endure him from the first moment of their acquaintance. It was some unconscious repugnance; as to other things I am perfectly sure that he did not offend her with that with which he offends me, and all who know his nature thoroughly. He is a wonderful man, or rather a wonderful man of letters. There are, of course, not only among us, but in all the greater centres of literature and art, men of whom, when you think, you ask involuntarily, Whence comes their importance? To this category belongs my friend of “The Kite.” Who would believe that the secret of Ostrynski’s significance and the reason of his mental position is this, that he does not love and does not respect talents, — especially literary talents, — and that he simply lives by disregarding them? He has for them the contempt of a man to whom regularity of life, a certain incisive quickness and great shrewdness secure in society permanent victories over them.
One should see him at sessions, at artistic and literary meetings, at jubilee dinners; with what condescending irony he treats men who in the region of creativeness have ten times more power than he; how he pushes them to the wall; how he confuses them with his logic, with his judgment; how he overwhelms them with his literary importance!
Whenever Antek thinks of this, he calls for a slat from the bedstead with which to crack Ostrynski’s skull; but Ostrynski’s preponderance does not astonish me. People of genuine talent are frequently awkward, timid, devoid of marked quickness and mental equilibrium. It is only when genuine talent is alone with itself that wings grow out on its shoulders; Ostrynski in such a position could only go to sleep, for he has absolutely nothing to say to himself.
The fu
ture brings order, gives rank, and assigns to each man his own proper place. Ostrynski is too clever not to know this; but in his soul he laughs at it. For him, ’tis enough that at present he has greater significance than others, and that people count more with him than with men better than he.
We painters stand less in his way. Still he advertises the talents of writers at times, but only when urged by the interest of “The Kite” and in opposition to “The Courier.” For the rest, he is a good comrade, an agreeable person. I can say that I like the man; but — devil take him! — we’ve had enough of Ostrynski.
CHAPTER VI.
THEY will make me slam the door some day.
What a comedy! Since I have won reputation and money, Suslovski, in spite of my forethought, treats me simply with contempt; his wife, all Kazia’s relatives, male and female, meet me frigidly.
On the first evening Suslovski announces that if I suppose that my new position has influenced their action, or if I suppose — which for that matter is evident in me — that I am doing them a favor, I am mistaken. Though ready to sacrifice much for the happiness of their child, still even that only child cannot ask them to sacrifice their human dignity. The mother adds, that, in case of need, the child will know where to seek refuge. The honest Kazia defends me at moments very angrily; but they are in wait for every word of mine.
Barely do I open my mouth when Suslovski bites his lips, looks at his wife and nods, as if to say, “I knew that it would come to this.” Such a saw have they fixed for me from morning till evening.
And to think that all this is hypocrisy, that its special service is to keep me in their net, that at the bottom of the question they are after my fifteen thousand francs, and that they are as anxious for them as I am, though our motives are different.
It is time to finish.
They have brought me to this that I seem to myself to have committed really some scoundrelism in getting the gold medal and the fifteen thousand francs for my picture.
CHAPTER VII.
THE day of my betrothal is drawing near. I buy a beautiful ring in the style of Louis XV. which does not please the Suslovskis, nor even Kazia, for in that whole house there is no one who has an idea of real art.
I must work much yet over Kazia to destroy in her vulgar preferences and teach her to feel artistically; but since she loves me, I am hopeful.
I invited no one to the betrothal except Antek. I wanted him to visit the Suslovskis as a preliminary; but he declared, that though physically and morally bankrupt, he has not become so degraded yet as to go visiting. It cannot be helped! I forewarn the Suslovskis that my friend is an original beyond compare, but a painter of genius and the most honest man in the world.
Suslovski, learning that my friend paints “corpses,” raises his brows, declaring that hitherto he has had to do with decent people, that his whole official career is unspotted, and that he hopes my friend will respect the manners prevailing in an honorable and decorous house.
I confess to myself that I am not free from fears touching Antek, and from the morning hours I am at war with him. He insists on wearing leggings. I persuade, I implore, I entreat.
At last he gives way, declaring that he sees no reason decisively why he should not remain a fool. It is a pity that his shoes remind one of explorers in Central Africa; for no blacking has touched them since they were brought from the shoemaker’s on credit!
Still worse, Antek’s head looks like the summit of the Carpathian Mountains, covered with forests, torn by columns of wind. I must put up with this, for there is no comb on earth which could conquer that forelock; but I force him to put on a frock coat, instead of the blouse which he wears every day. He does this, but has the look of one of his corpses, and falls into sepulchral humor.
On the street people turn to look at his knotty stick and his immense tattered hat; but I am accustomed to this.
We ring; we enter.
In the antechamber, the voice of Cousin Yachkovich reaches me; he is discoursing on overpopulation. Cousin Yachkovich is always discoursing on overpopulation; that is his hobby. Kazia looks in her muslin like a cloud, and pretty. Suslovski is in a dress-coat; the relatives are in dress-coats; the old aunts are in silk gowns.
Antek’s entrance makes an impression. They look at him with a certain disquiet. He looks around gloomily, and informs Suslovski that in truth he would not have come “unless Vladek were getting married, or something of that sort.”
This “something of that sort” is received most fatally. Suslovski straightens himself with dignity, and inquires what is meant by “something of that sort.” Antek answers that it is all one to him; but “for Vladek” he might even knock his heels off, especially if he knew that Pan Suslovski cared anything about the matter. My future father-in-law looks at his wife, at me, at Kazia, with a look in which amazement is struggling with mortification.
Happily I save the position, and, with presence of mind rare with me, beg my future father-in-law to present me to those members of his family with whom I am still unacquainted.
The presentation follows; then we sit down. Kazia sits near me, and lets her hand stay in mine. The room is full of people; but all are stiff and silent. The atmosphere is heavy.
Cousin Yachkovich begins again at his talk on overpopulation. My Antek looks under the table. In the silence the voice of Yachkovich is heard with increasing shrillness; not having a front tooth, whenever he has to pronounce sz, he utters a prolonged hiss.
“The most dreadful catastrophe may arise from this for all Europe,” said Yachkovich.
“Emigration,” put in some one from aside.
“Statistics show, that emigration will not prevent overpopulation.”
Suddenly Antek raises his head and turns his fishy eyes toward the speaker. “Then Chinese customs should be introduced among us,” says he, with a gloomy bass.
“With permission, — what Chinese customs?”
“In China parents have the right to smother imbecile children. Well, then, with us, children should have the right to kill imbecile parents.”
It has come! The bolt has struck; the sofa groans under the aunts; and I am lost. Suslovski closes his eyes, and loses speech for a season.
Silence.
Then is heard the voice of my coming father-in-law, trembling with terror, —
“My dear sir, I hope, that as a Christian—”
“Why must I be a Christian?” interrupts Antek, shaking his head ominously.
Another thunderbolt!
The sofa with the aunts begins to tremble as if in a fever; it vanishes from my sight; I feel the earth opening beneath me. All is lost; all hope is vain.
Suddenly Kazia’s laughter rings out, resonant as a bell; then Yachkovich bursts into laughter, not knowing why; after Yachkovich, I laugh, also not knowing why.
“Father!” cries Kazia, “Vladek forewarned father, that Pan Svyatetski [Antek] is an original. Pan Svyatetski is joking; he has a mother, I know that, and he is the best of sons to her.”
A rogue, not a maiden, that Kazia! — not only does she invent, but she divines. In fact, Antek has a mother, and he is a good son to her.
Kazia’s words make a certain diversion. The entrance of a servant with wine and cake makes a still greater diversion. That servant is the watchman who took my last three rubles; but now he is arrayed in a dress-coat, and comes out with the dignity of a waiting-man. He keeps his eyes fixed on the tray; the glasses rattle, and he moves forward as slowly as if he were carrying glasses filled with water. I begin to fear that he will drop them all to the floor; fortunately my fear proves barren.
After a while the glasses are filled. We proceed to the act of betrothal.
A little cousin holds a porcelain plate on which two rings are lying. The eyes are creeping out of her head with curiosity, and the whole ceremony causes her such evident pleasure that she is dancing together with the plate and rings. Suslovski rises; all rise; the noise of the chairs is heard as they are push
ed back.
Silence follows. I hear one of the matrons remark in a whisper, how she had hoped that my ring “would be better.” In spite of this remark there is such solemnity of feeling that flies are dropping from the wall.
Suslovski begins to speak, —
“My children, receive the blessing of your parents.”
Kazia kneels; I kneel as well.
What a physiognomy Antek must have at this moment, what a face! I dare not look at him; I look at Kazia’s muslin robe, which, on the faded red sofa, makes a very nice spot. The hands of Suslovski and of Pani Suslovski rest on our heads; then my future father-in-law says, —
“My daughter, thou hast had the best example at home of what a wife should be to a husband, therefore I need not teach thee thy duties, which moreover thy husband will indicate to thee.” (I hope so.) “But I turn to thee, Pan Vladislav—”
Here begins a speech during which I count to one hundred, and having counted to a hundred, I begin again at one. Suslovski the citizen, Suslovski the official, Suslovski the father, Suslovski the Roman, had the opportunity of showing all his grandeur of soul. The words: child, parents, duties, future, blessing, thorns, pure conscience, buzz around my ears like a swarm of wasps, sit on my head, sting me on the above-mentioned ears as well as on my neck and forehead.
It must be that I tied my cravat too tightly, for it is suffocating me. I hear the weeping of Pani Suslovski, which affects me, for at heart she is an honest woman; I hear the sound of the rings, held on the plate by the dancing little cousin. O Lord Christ, what a face that Antek must have!
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 719