Children of the Soil

“We? no! I would not know him for anything in the world; but once, when we were going through Passy, he stood on a balcony, and I know not whether through something prophetic, or through inspiration, the moment he set eyes on Lineta, he raised his hand and blessed her.”

“Aunt!” said Panna Castelli.

“When it is true, my child; and what is true, is true! I called at once to her, ‘See, see! he is raising his hand!’ and Pan Tsardyn, the consul, who was sitting on the front seat, saw also that he raised his hand, and gave a blessing. I tell this freely, for perhaps the Lord God forgave him his sins, of which he had many, because of this blessing. He was of such perverse mind; and still, when he saw Lineta, he blessed her.”

There was in the tale this much truth, – those ladies, while going through Passy, really saw Victor Hugo on a balcony. As to the blessing which they said he gave Lineta, malicious tongues in Warsaw declared that he raised his hand because he was yawning at the moment.

Meanwhile Pani Aneta continued, —

“We’ll make for ourselves here a little Italy; and should the attempt fail, next winter we’ll escape to the great one. It has entered my head already to open a house in Rome. Meantime Yozio has bought a number of nice copies of statues and paintings. That was so worthy on his part, for he doesn’t care much about them; he did this only for me. There are very good things among them; for Yozio had the wit not to trust himself, and begged the aid of Pan Svirski. It is a pity that they are not here; it is a pity, too, that Pan Bukatski died, as it were, through perversity, for he would have been useful. At times he was very nice; he had a certain subtlety, snake-like, and that in conversation, gives life. But” (here she turned to Marynia) “do you know that you have conquered Pan Svirski utterly? After you had left Rome, he talked of no one else, and he has begun a Madonna with your features. You’ll become a Fornarina! Evidently you have luck with artists; and when my Florentine evenings begin, Lineta and I must be careful, – if not, we shall go to the corner.”

But Pani Bronich, casting hostile glances at Marynia, said, —

“If it is a question of faces which make an impression on artists, I’ll tell the company what happened once in Nice.”

“Aunt!” interrupted Panna Castelli.

“But if it is true, my child; and what’s true, is true! A year ago – no! two years ago – Oh, how time flies! – ”

But Pani Aneta, who had heard more than once, surely, what had happened at Nice, began to inquire of Marynia, —

“But have you many acquaintances in the world of artists?”

“My husband has,” answered Marynia, “I have not; but we know Pan Zavilovski.”

Pani Aneta fell into real enthusiasm at this news. It was her dream to know Zavilovski, and let “Yozio” say if it was not her dream. Not long before, she and Lineta had read his verses entitled “Ex imo;” and Lineta, who, at times, knows how to describe an impression with one word, as no one else can, said, – what is it that she said so characteristic?

“That there was in that something bronze-like,” added Pani Bronich.

“Yes, something bronze-like; I imagined to myself also Pan Zavilovski as something cast. How does he look in reality?”

“He is short, fat, fifty years old,” said Pan Stanislav, “and has no hair on his head.”

At this the faces of Pani Aneta and Lineta took on such an expression of disenchantment that Marynia laughed, and said, —

“Do not believe him, ladies; he is malicious, and likes to torment. Pan Zavilovski is young, somewhat shy, a little like Wagner.”

“That means that he has a chin like Punch,” added Pan Stanislav.

But Pani Aneta paid no heed to Pan Stanislav’s words, and obtained from Marynia a promise to make her acquainted with Pan Zavilovski, and soon, “very soon, for summer is at the girdle!”

“We will try to make it pleasant for him among us, and that he shouldn’t be shy; though, if he is a little shy, that is no harm, for he ought to be, and, like an eagle in a cage, withdraw when people approach him. But we will come to an understanding with Lineta; she, too, is wrapped up in herself, and is as mysterious as a sphinx.”

“It seems to me that every uncommon soul – ” began Aunt Sweetness.

But the Polanyetskis rose to go. In the entrance they met the wonderful Kopovski, whose shoes the servants were dusting, and who was arranging meanwhile the hair on his statuesque head, which was as solid as marble. When outside, Pan Stanislav remarked, —

“He, too, will be useful for their ‘Florentine’ evenings; he, too, is a sphinx.”

“If he were to stand in a niche,” said Marynia. “But what beautiful women they are!”

“It is a wonderful thing,” answered Pan Stanislav, “though Pani Osnovski is good-looking, I, for example, prefer Pani Mashko as a beauty. As to Castelli, she is, in truth, beautiful, though too tall. Hast thou noticed how they speak of her all the time, but she not a word?”

“She has a very intelligent opinion,” answered Marynia, “but is, perhaps, a little timid, like poor Zavilovski.”

“It is necessary to think of arranging for that acquaintance.”

But an accident disturbed these plans of making the acquaintance. Marynia, on the day following this visit, slipped on the stone stairs, and struck her knee against the step with such violence that she had to lie in bed several days. Pan Stanislav, on returning from the office, learned what had happened. Alarmed at first, then pacified by the doctor, he upbraided his wife rather sharply.

“Thou shouldst remember that it may be a question not of thee alone,” said he.

She suffered severely from the fall and from these words, which seemed to her too unsparing; for she considered that with him it should above all be a question of her, especially as other fears were baseless so far. Aside from this, he showed great attention; neither on the next nor the following day did he go to the counting-house, but remained to take care of her. In the forenoon he read to her; after lunch, he worked in the adjoining room with open doors, so that she might call him at any moment. Affected by this care, she thanked him very warmly; in return he kissed her, and said, —

“My child, it is a simple duty. Thou seest that even strangers inquire about thee daily.”

In fact, strangers did inquire daily. Zavilovski inquired in the counting-house, “How does the lady feel?” Pani Bigiel came in the forenoon, and Bigiel in the evening; without going to the chamber of the sick woman, he played on the piano in the next room to entertain her. The Mashkos and Pani Bronich left cards twice. Pani Osnovski, leaving her husband in the carriage below, broke into Marynia a little by violence, and sat with her about two hours, talking, with her usual gift of jumping from subject to subject, of Rome, of her intended evenings, of Svirski, of her husband, of Lineta, and of Zavilovski, who didn’t let her sleep. Toward the end of the visit, she declared that they ought to say thou to each other, and that she invited Marynia to give aid in one plan: “that is, not a plan, but a conspiracy;” or, rather, in a certain thing which had so struck into her head that it was burning, and burning to such a degree that her whole head was on fire.

“That Zavilovski has so stuck in my mind that Yozio has begun to be jealous of him; but in the end of the affair, Yozio, poor fellow, doesn’t know himself what to think. I am sure that he and Lineta are created for each other, – not Yozio and Lineta, but Zavilovski and Lineta. That poetry, that poetry! And don’t laugh, Marynia; don’t think me moonstruck. Thou dost not know Lineta. She needs some uncommon man. She wouldn’t marry Kopovski for anything, though Kopovski looks like an archangel. Such a face as Kopovski has, I have never seen in life. In Italy, perhaps, in some picture, and even then not. Knowest thou what Lineta says of him? – ‘C’est un imbécile.’ But still she looks at him. Think how beautiful that would be, if they should become acquainted, and love, and take each other, – that is, not Kopovski and Lineta, but Zavilovski and Lineta. That would be a couple! Lineta, with her aspirations, whom can she find? Where is there a man for her? What we have seen, that we have seen. I imagine how they would live. It is so wearisome in the world that when it is possible to have such a plan, it is worth while to work for it. Moreover, I know that that will succeed without difficulty, for Aunt Bronich is wringing her hands, – where can she find a husband for Lineta? I am afraid that I have worn thee out, and surely I have tormented thee; but it is so nice to talk, especially when one is making some plan.”

In fact, Marynia felt, as it were, a turning of the head after Pani Aneta had gone. Still when Pan Stanislav came in, she told him of the plans prepared against Zavilovski, and, laughing a little at the eagerness of Pani Aneta, said at last, —

“She must have a good heart, and she pleases me; but what an enthusiast! What is there that doesn’t rush through her head?”

“She is impetuous, but no enthusiast,” answered Pan Stanislav; “and see what the difference is, – enthusiasm comes almost always from the warmth of a good heart, while impetuousness frequently agrees with a dry heart, and often comes even from this, that the head is hot, and the heart is asleep.”

“Thou hast no liking for Pani Aneta,” said Marynia.

Pan Stanislav did not indeed like her; but this time, instead of confirming or contradicting, he looked at his wife with a certain curiosity, and that moment her beauty struck him, – her hair flowing in disorder on the pillow, and her small face coming out of the dark waves, just like a flower. Her eyes seemed bluer than usual; through her open mouth was to be seen the row of small white teeth. Pan Stanislav approached her, and said in an undertone, —

“How beautiful thou art to-day!”

And, bending over her, with changed face, he fell to kissing her eyes and mouth.

But every kiss moved her, and each movement caused pain. It was disagreeable, besides, that he had noticed her beauty as if by accident; his expression of face was distasteful to her, and his inattention; therefore she turned away her head.

“Stas, do not kiss me so roughly; thou knowest that I am suffering.”

Then he stood erect, and said with suppressed anger, —

“True; I beg pardon.”

And he went to his room to examine the plan of a certain summer house with a garden, which had been sent to him that morning.

CHAPTER XL

But Marynia’s illness was not lasting, and a week later she and her husband were able to visit the Bigiels, who had moved to their summer residence; for the weather, notwithstanding the early season, was fine, and in the city summer heats were almost beginning. Zavilovski, who had grown accustomed to them, went also, taking an immense kite, which he was to fly in company with Pan Stanislav and the children. The Bigiels, too, liked Zavilovski, since he was simple, and, except his shyness, a pleasant man, on occasions even childlike. Pani Bigiel maintained, moreover, that he had a peculiar head; which was in so far true, that he had a scar on his eyelid, and that his prominent chin gave him an expression of energy which was contradicted utterly by his upper face, which was delicate, almost feminine. At first Pani Bigiel sought in him an original; but he mastered everything, and therefore himself, too quickly. He was simply a great enthusiast of unequal temper, because he was timid; and he was not without hidden pride.

At dinner they mentioned the Osnovskis to him, and the projected Athenian-Roman-Florentine evenings, Panna Castelli, and the curiosity which he had roused in the ladies. When he heard this, he said, —