Whirlpools

Here again indignation began to seize her so that Laskowicz from fear that she might have an attack of convulsions, said:

"We will consult together about this, but only let the lady be pacified."

But she replied with increasing irritation:

"I did not come here for you to pacify me. You, sir, have prated about our mutual wrongs and now you order me to be pacified. I want help and not your chatter."

"You are anxious that he should not marry her?"

"And what else do you suppose?"

In any case Laskowicz would have sided with the girl for he was obligated to do that by gratitude to her for saving his life, by the similarity of their lot, and those "joint wrongs" of which he himself had previously spoken to Pauly, and of which she now reminded him. But the existence of Krzycki at present ceased to stand in his way and Miss Anney's existence less so. Only one thing he could not forgive in her:

"She was a peasant woman, she was a wage-earner, and afterwards became a female bourgeois. In this is the crime."

"In it or not in it, it is now I or she! Do you understand, sir?"

"I understand, but what is to be done?"

"When you ran away from the police, I did not ask what was to be done."

"I remember."

"And you said at Swidwicki's that your people could accomplish everything."

"For it is so."

"So if he only does not marry her, then even let the world end."

Laskowicz began to look at her with his closely set eyes and after a moment commenced to speak slowly and with emphasis:

"Krzycki was once already condemned and lives, thanks to you, lady, but if he gets a bullet in his head, then he will marry no one."

But she, hearing this, turned pale as a corpse; in the same moment she sprang at him with her finger-nails!

"What!" she cried in a hoarse voice; "what! he! Let but a hair fall from his head, then, I will have you all-"

Laskowicz's patience, however, was exhausted. He was irritated, torn internally and sick; hence, after her threat, a wave of bitterness and rage flooded his brains. He started up and, glaring in her eyes, shouted!

"Do not threaten with betrayal, for that is death!"

"Death?" she screamed. "Death! this is what life is to me!"

And shoving her palm close to his face, she blew on it so that her breath moistened him, and repeated:

"Look! This is what life is to me."

"And to me," exclaimed Laskowicz.

For an interval they stared in each other's eyes like two odious and despairing souls. He recovered his wits first, and clasping his head with both hands, said:

"Oh, how unfortunate we are! oh!"

"Yes! yes!" reiterated Panna Pauly.

And she began to sob hysterically.

Then he commenced to quiet her. He promised her that nothing should befall Krzycki and that his marriage would not under any circumstances take place. He said that at that moment he could not indeed disclose to her what measures would be adopted, but he assured her that neither he nor his party would show any consideration to a mere female bourgeois, as here was involved a higher social justice, which does not need to take into account any particular individual. Pauly only understood that that "low peasant" would not wed the young master of Jastrzeb, and became appeased in some measure: and afterwards, both, from necessity, became occupied with other matters. It was imperative that some kind of shelter be found for the young girl: so Laskowicz placed her with "a female associate" residing in the neighborhood, who immediately went for her wages and belongings. He himself returned to his own rooms and began to revolve in his mind how he could repay Panna Pauly for saving his life.

And in this feeling of gratitude lay the first reason why he took the matter to heart. A second reason was his own ill-luck and ill-fated love for Marynia which made him sensitive to similar strifes; and the third was that "social justice" which he mentioned to Pauly. As to the third reason he felt, however, the necessity of deliberating with his own soul in order that when the time for action arrived his hands would be untied, and under the pressure of this necessity he began to reason in the following fashion:

"On the background of the general concern of the proletariat, personal affairs will appear. It might be said that the general concern is the sum-total of them all. In this respect whoever stands in defence of the personal affair of a proletaire by that act alone defends universal principles. But here comes the question of ethics. Whither are we tending? To universal justice. Ergo, our principle is moral for it is only the sum-total of personal affairs: therefore these personal affairs also must be moral. From this it follows that the proletaire, who is in the wrong in a controversy with a bourgeois, nevertheless has justice on his side simply because he is a proletaire. In this world everything is relative. A soldier, slaying his opponent in a war, commits manslaughter; therefore the act itself is not ethical. But as he commits it in defense of Fatherland, therefore, from the viewpoint of national welfare he acts ethically. If in addition thereto he has the spur of personal hatred to an antagonist, his act would gain in energy and would not lose its additional significance for Fatherland. For us, the Polish proletariat is the nation and the idea of their emancipation, the Fatherland. For this we wage war and if there is war, then murder and injuries are inflicted upon the antagonists; and even though the motives for them might be personal, they nevertheless are not only justifiable but are covered a hundred-fold by the universal welfare."

"Besides," – he reasoned further-, "the quintessence of our existence is unhappiness; and from unhappiness as well as, inversely, from happiness must blossom corresponding deeds. This is a necessity flowing from the nature of things; and with this ethics have nothing to do. I and that rabid girl are luckless, like homeless dogs; in view of which it is all one whether a wrong was perpetrated upon us intentionally or unintentionally; just as it is all one to the wolf whether the forester who shoots him in the head, hunted him purposely or whether they met by chance. The wolf has teeth to defend himself. That is his right. The moment has come when our fangs have grown; therefore we have the right to mangle.

"As to that girl, she is mangled by despair which can only be assuaged by revenge. Is it just? Will it be beneficial to the girl? That is all one. The wage-earners without work and bread drown their woes in alcohol; the bourgeois in case of pain injects morphine into himself, and for her, revenge will be alcohol and morphine. Whatever may be the consequences, she will destroy the happiness of the pampered; she will change their joy into tears; she will break their lives and raze a particle of that world, which lies heavily, like a nightmare, upon the breasts of the proletariat. So it is necessary to aid that revenge, for so does gratitude for saving life command; likewise common wrong, also the good of the cause."

In view of this, it already seemed to Laskowicz a matter of minor importance whether in that aid a rôle would be played by a knife, or by a revolver, or by casting upon Hanka some ignominy, after which nothing would remain for her to do but to fly and hide herself forever from human eyes. Neither opportunity nor willing hands were wanting. It was only necessary to deliberate upon the choice: and afterwards to act promptly and decisively.

With this he went to Pauly who agreed to everything. As a compensation he demanded that she should release him from his promise to see Marynia only from a distance, and he secured that with ease. He evidently wanted to have his hands untied also in that regard.

XIII

"Here is the answer which I finally received," said Ladislaus, handing a letter to Gronski; "I could not expect anything else."

"I knew that you would receive it," replied Gronski, blinking with his ailing eyes and searching for his binocle, "I was already informed of it by Pani Otocka, who from the beginning insisted that Miss Anney ought to answer you, and in the end prevailed upon her."

Ladislaus reddened and asked:

"Ah! So Zosia Otocka knows everything."

"She does and does not know. Miss Anney told her only this much; 'He did not forget that he is a young lord and I a peasant woman and we ceased to understand each other.' For her it was yet harder to speak of this than for you and that difficulty festers all the more the wound which, without it, is deep enough-But I cannot find the binocle."

"Here it is," said Ladislaus.

Gronski placed it on his nose and began to read:

"You, yourself, sir, rent and trampled upon our joy, our happiness, my trust, and that deep attachment which I had for you. To your query of whether I can ever recover those feelings, I answer that I seek for them in vain. If ever I recover them I will inform you with the same sincerity with which I to-day say that I have in my heart only grief and sadness which for a joint life will not suffice."

"Only so much!" said Ladislaus.

"My foresight," answered Gronski, "is verified only too perfectly. The spring for the time being has dried up."

"To the bottom, to the bottom, not a drop for refreshment."

Gronski remained silent for a while; after which he said:

"I think otherwise, nevertheless. This is not entirely hopeless. There remains sadness, grief and, as it were, the anticipation of the recurring swell. In reality, it will not flow to-day nor to-morrow. – In view of this, for you there remains either to persevere patiently and win anew that which you lost, or else, if you have not sufficient strength, to take some shears and sever the remaining threads."