Children of the Soil

“An acquaintance of ours, Pani Mashko. Have you not been presented to her?”

“Yes; I became acquainted with her yesterday at the funeral, but forget her name. I know that she is the wife of that gentleman who is talking with old Pan Zavilovski. A pure Vannuci! The same quietism, and a little yellowish; but she has very beautiful lines in her form.”

And looking a little longer he added, —

“A quenched face, but uncommon lines in the whole figure. As it were slender; look at the outline of her arms and shoulders.”

But Marynia was not looking at the outlines of the arms and shoulders of Pani Mashko, but at her husband; and on her face alarm was reflected on a sudden. Pan Stanislav was just inclining toward Pani Mashko and telling her something which Marynia could not hear, for they were sitting at a distance; but it seemed to her that at times he gazed into that quenched face and those pale eyes with the same kind of look with which during their journey after marriage he had gazed at her sometimes. Ah, she knew that look! And her heart began now to beat, as if feeling some great danger. But immediately she said to herself, “That cannot be! That would be unworthy of Stas.” Still she could not refrain from looking at them. Pan Stanislav was telling something very vivaciously, which Pani Mashko listened to with her usual indifference. Marynia thought again: “Something only seemed to me! He is speaking vivaciously as usual, but nothing more.” The remnant of her doubt was destroyed by Svirski, who, either because he noticed her alarm and inquiring glance, or because he did not notice the expression on Pan Stanislav’s face, said, —

“With all this she says nothing. Your husband must keep up the conversation, and he looks at once weary and angry.”

Marynia’s face grew radiant in one instant. “Oh, you are right! Stas is annoyed a little, surely; and the moment he is annoyed he is angry.”

And she fell into perfect good-humor. She would have been glad to give a rivière of diamonds, like that which Pan Zavilovski had brought to Lineta, to make “Stas” approach at that moment, to say something herself to him, and hear a kind word from him. In fact, a few minutes later her wish was accomplished, for Osnovski approached Pani Mashko; Pan Stanislav rose, and, saying a word or two on the way to Pani Aneta, who was talking to Kopovski, sat down at last by his wife.

“Dost wish to tell me something?” he inquired.

“How wonderful it is, Stas, for I called to thee that moment, but only in mind; still thou hast felt and art here with me.”

“See what a husband I am,” answered he, with a smile. “But the reason is really very simple: I noticed thee looking at me; I was afraid that something might have happened, and I came.”

“I was looking, for I wanted something.”

“And I came, for I wanted something. How dost thou feel? Tell the truth! Perhaps thou hast a wish to go home?”

“No, Stas, as I love thee, I am perfectly comfortable. I was talking with Pan Svirski of Pani Mashko, and was entertained well.”

“I guessed that you were gossiping about her. This artist says himself that he has an evil tongue.”

“On the contrary,” answered Svirski, “I was only admiring her form. The turn for my tongue may come later.”

“Oh, that is true,” said Pan Stanislav; “Pani Osnovski says that she has indeed a bad figure, and that is proof that she has a good one. But, Marynia, I will tell thee something of Pani Osnovski.” Here he bent toward his wife, and whispered, “Knowest what I heard from Kopovski’s lips when I was coming to thee?”

“What was it? Something amusing?”

“Just as one thinks: I heard him say thou to Pani Aneta.”

“Stas!”

“As I love thee, he did. He said to her, ‘Thou art always so.’”

“Maybe he was quoting some other person’s words.”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was; maybe he wasn’t. Besides, they may have been in love sometime.”

“Fi! Be ashamed.”

“Say that to them – or rather to Pani Aneta.”

Marynia, who knew perfectly well that unfaithfulness exists, but looking on it rather as some French literary theory, – she had not even imagined that one might meet such a thing at every step and in practice, – began to look now at Pani Aneta with wonder, and at the same time with the immense curiosity with which honest women look at those who have had boldness to leave the high-road for by-paths. She had too truthful a nature, however, to believe in evil immediately, and she did not; and somehow it would not find a place in her head that really there could be anything between those two, if only because of the unheard-of stupidity of Kopovski. She noticed, however, that they were talking with unusual vivacity.

But they, sitting somewhat apart between a great porcelain vase and the piano, had not only been talking, but arguing for a quarter of an hour.

“I fear that he has heard something,” said Pani Aneta, with a certain alarm, after Pan Stanislav had passed. “Thou art never careful.”

“Yes, it is always my fault! But who is forever repeating, ‘Be careful’?”

In this regard both were truly worthy of each other, since he could foresee nothing because of his dulness, and she was foolhardy to recklessness. Two persons knew their secret now; others might divine it. One needed all the infatuation of Osnovski not to infer anything. But it was on that that she reckoned.

Meanwhile Kopovski looked at Pan Stanislav and said, —

“He has heard nothing.”

Then he returned to the conversation which they had begun; but now he spoke in lower tones and in French, —

“Didst thou love me, thou wouldst be different; but since thou dost not love, what harm could that be to thee?”

Then he turned on her his wonderful eyes without mind, while she answered impatiently, —

“Whether I love, or love not, Castelka never! Dost understand? Never! I would prefer any other to her, though, if thou wert in love with me really, thou wouldst not think of marriage.”

“I would not think of it, if thou wert different.”

“Be patient.”

“Yes! till death? If I married Castelka, we should then be near really.”

“Never! I repeat to thee.”

“Well, but why?”

“Thou wouldst not understand it. Besides, Castelka is betrothed; it is too bad to lose time in discussing this.”

“Thou thyself hast commanded me to pay court to her, and now art casting reproaches. At first I thought of nothing; but afterward she pleased me, – I do not deny this. She pleases all; and, besides, she is a good match.”

Pani Aneta began to pull at the end of her handkerchief.

“And thou hast the boldness to say to my eyes that she pleased thee,” said she at last. “Is it I, or she?”

“Thou, but thee I cannot marry; her I could, for I saw well that I pleased her.”

“If thou wert better acquainted with women, thou wouldst be glad that I did not let it go to marriage. Thou dost not know her. She is just like a stick, and, besides, is malicious in character. Dost thou not understand that I told thee to pay court to her out of regard to people, and to Yozio? Otherwise, how explain thy daily visits?”

“I could understand, wert thou other than thou art.”

“Do not oppose me. I have fixed all, as thou seest, to keep thy portrait from being finished, and give thee a chance to visit Prytulov. Steftsia Ratkovski, a distant relative of Yozio’s, will be there soon. Dost understand? Thou must pretend that she pleases thee; and I will talk what I like into Yozio. In this way thou wilt be able to stop at Prytulov. I have written to Panna Ratkovski already. She is not a beauty, but agreeable.”

“Always pretence, and nothing for it.”