Part 10

"Day before yesterday they sent me a sentence of death which they surely will execute, as they have declared war against the government and they butcher their own countrymen. Well, that is a small matter! Three days ago they killed a master tinner and two workingmen in the cement factory. In Wilczodola, a few versts from here, they waylaid and maimed Pan Baezynski and robbed the branch office of the governmental whiskey monopoly besides. Szremski, that doctor for whom you came and whose optimism sticks like a bone in my throat, says that it is but a passing storm! Yes, everything does pass away, individuals as well as whole nations. I fear that ours too is passing away; for we have become a nation of bandits and banditism never can be a permanent institution. Well! The people, after these acts of violence, have in reality become tired of robbing for the benefit of their party and now prefer to rob on their own account. Do I know whether we will arrive alive at Krzyckis to-day? Bah! Krzycki ought to be more on his guard than any one else. He passes for a rich man and for that reason they will keep him in their eye. I will go to Jastrzeb for if I am to be assassinated, before it takes place I want to hear once more our child-wonder. But in truth, Krzycki, instead of inviting more guests, should dismiss those who are staying there now. The doctor, if he had any sense, would find an excuse for dispersing them all to-morrow."

"I heard that he is an excellent man," said Gronski.

"An excellent devil!" answered the notary. "You remember whom you have among you, and it is only about her that I am concerned."

Gronski, though disquieted and distressed by Dzwonkowski's narrative, could not refrain from laughing when he heard the last admonition, for translated into plain words it meant, "May the deuce impale you all, if only no evil befalls the little violinist." But whenever Marynia was involved he himself was always willing to subscribe to similar sentiments; therefore he began to pacify the aged official by telling him that in Jastrzeb there were, counting the guests and manor people, too many hands and too many arms to have any fears of an attack; and that, besides, Pani Krzycki's probable departure would end the visit of the guests. Further conversation was broken by the arrival of Doctor Szremski who, having dashed in like a bomb, announced that he was free for the remainder of the day and could ride with Gronski.

Gronski gazed at him with great interest, for even in Warsaw he heard of him as an original and prominent personality, in the favorable meaning of those words.

He was quite a young man, with tawny hair, swarthy like a gypsy, with a countenance alive with fire, bubbling with health, somewhat loud and brisk in his manners. In the city he played an uncommon rôle not only because he had the largest medical practice, but because he belonged to the most active men in any field. He entered into every project as if to an attack, and thanks to a sober and an exceptional temper of mind, whatever he did was done, on the whole, sensibly and well. He was, as it were, a personification of that phenomenon, frequent in Poland, where, when amidst a public not only trammelled but negligent and indolent by nature, a man of energy and with an idea is found, he is able to accomplish more than any German, Frenchman, or Englishman could have done. He himself participated in every undertaking and compelled others to work with such spirit that he was nicknamed "Doctor Spur." He established secret schools, reading rooms, nurseries for the children, economical associations, and for everything he gave money, of which he earned a great deal, though he treated gratis throngs of the penniless. The local socialists hated him, for by his popularity and influence with the workingmen he frustrated their efforts. The authorities looked at him with suspicion and with an evil eye. A man who loved his country, organized life, spread enlightenment, and donated money for public uses, must in their eyes be a suspicious character and deserved at least deportation to a "distant province." Fortunately for him, the governor's wife imagined that she was suffering from some nervous ailment and the local captain of the gendarmery was actually troubled with incipient aneurism of the aorta. So then the governor's wife, who through her connections had made her husband governor and ruled the province as she pleased, was of the opinion that if it were not for this "l'homme qui rit" (as she called the doctor), eternal mourning would have befallen the governor, and the captain of the gendarmes feared alike the gubernatorial connections and the aneurism. He had indeed prepared a report which he regarded as the masterpiece of his life; and perhaps he became ill because he dared not send it to the higher authorities. Sometimes in his dreams, he arrested the doctor, subjected him to an examination, forced him to divulge his accomplices, and dreamt also that the report might be used in case the governor and himself were transferred to another province; but it was only a dream. In reality the report reposed on the bottom of a drawer and the doctor, who read it (for the captain showed it to him in proof of what he could have done but did not do), laughed so ingenuously and was so confident of himself that it occurred to the captain's mind that in reality there was no joking with the governor's wife or the aneurism.

The doctor laughed because he was by nature unusually jovial. In certain cases he could think and speak gravely, but at chance meetings and at casual talks, in which there was no time for weighty discourse, he preferred to slide over the surface of the subject, scatter jests, and tell anecdotes, which later were repeated over the city, and which he himself much enjoyed. His optimism and beaming countenance created incurable optimism and hope and good thoughts wherever he appeared. He joked with the sick about their sickness and with jokes dispelled their fears. His mirth won the people and a well-grounded medical knowledge and efficacious watchfulness over their health and lives assured him a certain kind of sway over them. For this reason he did not mind the "big fish," or in fact anybody. Such was the case with the notary whose perpetual choler and irascibility were known all over the city, so that social relations with him were maintained only by those who were exceptionally interested in music. The doctor, who also cracked jokes about music, sought his company, purposely to nettle him and afterwards to tell about his outbreaks, to his own amusement and that of his hearers.

And now he rushed in with the crash of a squall, became acquainted with Gronski, asked about the health of Pani Krzycki and about the pretty ladies staying in Jastrzeb of whom he had already heard; after which, observing the distressed face of the notary, he exclaimed merrily:

"What a mien! Is it so bad with us in this world, or what? Seventy-five years! A great thing! Truly it is not the age of strength, but it is the strength of the age! Please show your pulse!"

Here, without further asking the notary, he grabbed his hand, and pulling out his watch, began to count:

"One, two--one, two!--one, two! Bad! It is the pulse of one in love. There are symptoms of a slight heartburn! Such is usually the case. Such a machine cannot last more than twenty-five years,--at the most thirty. Thank you!"

Saying this he dropped the old man's hand, whose mien brightened in expectation, for he thought that twenty-five years added to what he had already lived would make quite a respectable age.

Pretending, however, to scowl, he answered:

"Always those jokes! The doctor thinks that I care for those wretched twenty-five years. It is not worth while living now. Of course you know what is taking place. I have such a mien because I was just talking with Pan Gronski about it. I also have a heartburn. Well, I ask what will become of us if all the people should follow the socialists?"

But the doctor began to swing his arms and deny this categorically. Not all the people, nor a half, nor a hundredth part. And even those who say that they belong to the socialists say so under terror or through misapprehension.

"I will give you gentlemen two examples," he said. "I live on a lower floor and beneath me in the basement there is a locksmith's shop. This morning I overheard fragments of a conversation between my servant and the locksmith. The locksmith said, 'I am a socialist; there is nothing more to be said about it.' 'Why is nothing more to be said?' said my servant. 'Then you do not believe in God and do not love Poland.' 'And why should I not believe in God and love Poland?' 'Because the socialists do not believe in God and do not love Poland.' And the locksmith replied, 'So? Then may sickness plague them.' That is the way people belong to the socialists. I do not say all, but a great many. Ha!"

And he began to laugh.

"The doctor always finds an anecdote," grumbled the notary; "but let us tell the truth, thousands belong to them."

"Then why do they not elect one deputy in the kingdom?" retorted the doctor. "Bombs explode loudly, so they can be heard better than any other work. But how many thousands participated in the national parade? Do these also belong to them? When in a factory ten men manage to hang a red flag on the chimney it seems that the whole factory is red, but that is not true."

"Why do not the others tear it down?"

"Simple reason! Because the police tear it down."

"And also because the socialists have revolvers and the others have not," added Gronski.

"Undoubtedly," continued the doctor. "I have ten times closer relations with the workingmen than any manager of a factory. I go into their dwellings and know their home life. I know them. Socialism is engaged in a struggle with the bureaucracy; so it seems to many that they belong to it. But, to the outrages only the worst and most ignorant element assents. The latter soon change into bandits, and that is not surprising. Their consciences have been taken away from them and revolvers are given to them. But the majority--the better and more honest majority--have under the ribs Polish hearts; and for that reason this demon, who wants to snatch and carry them away, called himself, as a bait, Polish. Ah! they only need schools, enlightenment, a knowledge of Polish history, in order not to allow themselves to be hoodwinked! Ay, that is what they need! Ay, ay!"

And in his gesticulations, he seized the old man's arm and began to turn him around.

"Schools, Pan Notary, schools; for the Lord's mercy!"

Blood rushed to the notary's head from indignation.

"Are you crazy!" he yelled. "Why do you jolt me like a pear?"

"True," said the doctor, leaving him alone. "True, but the extent to which these poor fellows misapprehend things is enough to cause one to weep and laugh at the same time."

"No, not to laugh," said Gronski.

"Do you know, sir, that at times, yes," exclaimed the doctor; "for listen to my second instance. Last Sunday, being tired as a dog, I drove out to the Gorczynski woods, just outside of the city, for a little airing. In the woods from the opposite direction came more than a dozen of workingmen who evidently were enjoying a May outing. I saw one of them carrying a red flag on a newly whittled stick. He probably brought it in his pocket and fastened it when they got to the woods. 'Good!' I thought to myself, 'Socialists!' And now, when they were near, the one who carried the flag sang lustily to the tune of 'Bartoszu! Bartoszu!' that which I will repeat to you, and I pledge my word, I will not add or subtract anything.

'Kosciuszko, though a cobbler, Oj, soundly thrashed the Germans, Oj, soundly thrashed the Germans; Only, it is a great pity For us, that he drowned. Only it is a great pity For us, that he drowned.'"

"Ah, honest simplicity!" exclaimed Gronski. "I would embrace him and present him with a history of Poland of recent times."

"Wait, sir," shouted the doctor. "I stopped my socialists of strange rites. It appeared that almost all were known to me and I said: 'For the fear of God, citizens, Kosciuszko was not a cobbler, he never thrashed the Germans, and he did not drown, only Prince Joseph Poniatowski did. Come to me and I will give you a book about Kosciuszko, Kilinski,[4] and Prince Joseph Poniatowski, for you have made of them a bigos.[5] They began to thank me and then I asked: 'What has become of the eagle on your flag? did he go hunting for mushrooms?' They became confused. The flag-bearer started to explain why they had no eagle. 'Why, may it please the doctor,' he said, 'they told us: Do not take a flag with an eagle, for if they take the flag away from you, they will insult the eagle and you will suffer shame and disgrace.' Yes. In this manner they cheat the Polish heart of our own people."

But the notary did not want to part with his black spectacles.

"Well, what of it?" he asked. "Do you claim that if it was not for this and that there would not be any socialism amongst us?"

"There is socialism over the entire world," rejoined the doctor, "therefore there must be with us. Only if it was not for this and that, there would not accompany it highway robbery, savagery, and blindness; there would not be this modern socialism which has styled itself Polish, though its pitch can be smelt a mile away."

"Bravo!" cried Gronski. "I said the same thing in other words to another person on the road from Jastrzeb."

"Ay, Jastrzeb," said the doctor looking at his watch. "Here we are talking and it is time that we started."

"Perhaps the notary can go with us," said Gronski. "The carriage has seats for four."

"I can. Only I will take my flute with me. Well!" answered the notary.

"Well!" repeated Szremski, mimicking him. "Aha, the flute! Then there will be a serenade in Jastrzeb, while here the socialists will rob the office."

The notary who was going after his flute, suddenly turned around, sniffed vehemently, and said:

"To-day they sent me a sentence of death."

"Bah! I already have received two of them," merrily answered the doctor.

A quarter of an hour later they were on the road to Jastrzeb. On this occasion, Gronski and the doctor drew so closely to each other and talked so much, that, as Gronski said later, there was not a place in which to stick a pin.

XI

The distance between the city and Jastrzeb was not more than a mile and a half. For this reason Gronski, the notary, and Szremski reached their destination before four o'clock. They were expected for dinner but in the meantime Ladislaus conducted the ladies over the sawmill; so the doctor repaired to Pani Krzycki and Gronski ordered the saddle unpacked and taken to Marynia's room. In a half hour the young company returned and, greeting the notary, assembled in the salon to await the dinner. The notary at the sight of Marynia forgot all about death sentences, about the outrages perpetrated in the city, about socialism and the whole world and, after kissing her hand, appropriated her exclusively for himself. Gronski began to initiate Pani Otocka into the reasons of his trip to the city, while Krzycki conversed with Miss Anney and became as engrossed with her as if there were no one else in the room. It was apparent that his exclamation on that morning that "one could lose his head" was but a confirmation of a symptom which intensified more and more with each moment. His uncommonly handsome young face glowed as if from the dawn, for in his bosom he did have the dawn of a new, happy feeling, which beamed through the eyes, the smile on the lips, through every motion, and through the words he addressed to Miss Anney. The spell held him more and more; a secret magnet drew him with steadily increasing power to this light-haired maid, looking so young, buxom, and alluring. He did not even attempt to resist that power. Gronski observed that he evinced his rapture too plainly and that in the presence of his mother he should have acted with more circumspection. Miss Anney also felt this, as from time to time blushes suffused her countenance and she pushed back her chair a little, besides glancing about at those present as if in fear that the excessive affability of the young host towards her might attract too much attention. But the matter, however, was agreeable to her, for in her eyes a certain joy flamed. Only Dolhanski gazed at her from time to time; the others were mutually occupied.

The appearance of the doctor ended the conversations. Krzycki, after introducing him to the ladies, together with them began to inquire about the health of the patient, but the doctor was evidently disinclined to speak at any length, for he answered in a few words and in accordance with his habit spoke so loudly that Dolhanski, in his surprise, placed the monocle on his eye.

"Nothing serious! Monsummano! Monsummano! or something like that! I will prescribe everything! Nothing serious! Nothing!"

"But what is Monsummano?" asked Ladislaus.

"That is a warm hole in Italy in which rheumatism is boiled out. A kind of purgatory after which salvation follows! Besides Italy, a delightful journey! I will prescribe everything in detail."

Gronski, who often had travelled over Italy, also knew this place and began to describe it to the curious ladies. In the meantime Ladislaus talked about his mother's health with the doctor, who, however, listened to him inattentively, repeating, "I will prescribe everything," shaking his head, and looking about him, as if with curiosity, at each of the ladies in rotation. Suddenly he slapped his hand on his knee with a thwack which could be heard all over the room and exclaimed:

"What marvellous faces there are in Jastrzeb and what skulls! Ha!"

Dolhanski dropped his monocle, the ladies looked amazed, but Krzycki began to laugh.

"The doctor has a habit of thinking aloud," he said.

"And bawling out yet more loudly," grumbled the notary.

"How is your flute?" the doctor replied, laughingly.

But at that moment the servant announced that dinner was ready. Hearing this, Pani Otocka turned with a peculiar smile to her sister and said:

"Marynia, your hair is all disheveled. Look at yourself in a glass."

The young lady raised her hands to her head, but as there were no mirrors in the salon, she, a little confused, said:

"Beg pardon, I will return immediately."

She hastened to her room, but soon returned still more confused with blushes and with a radiant countenance.

"A ladies' saddle!" she began to cry, "a most beautiful ladies' saddle!"

And passing her eyes over those present, she pointed at Gronski:

"Was it you?"

"I confess," said Gronski, spreading out his hands and bowing his head.

She, on her part, had such a desire to kiss his hand that if the doctor and the notary had not been present, she certainly would have done so. In the meanwhile she began to thank him with effusive and perfectly childish glee.

"I see, Panna Marynia, that you are fond of horseback riding," said Szremski.

"I am fond of everything."

"There you have it," cried the amused doctor.

"Only secure a gentle horse; otherwise it will not be hard to meet with accidents," observed the notary.

It soon became apparent that such a one could be procured, for on the economical Jastrzeb estate horses were the only item of which a strict account was not kept. Krzycki indeed maintained that they could be bred profitably, but he did not breed them for gain but from that traditional love of them, the immoderateness of which the reverend Skarga,[6] a few centuries before, censured in his ancestors in the eloquent words: "Dearer to you is the offspring of a mare than the Son of God!" Horses therefore were not wanting in Jastrzeb and the conversation about them and horsemanship continued, to the great dissatisfaction of the notary, throughout the whole dinner. Those present learned that Marynia was not entirely a novice, for at Zalesin, at her sister's, she rode in summer time almost daily in the company of the old manager on a clumsy, lanky pony, named Pierog. Her sister would not permit her to ride on any other horse and "what enjoyment could there be riding on Pierog?" She stated that this Pierog had a nasty habit of returning home, not when she wanted to, but when he desired to, and no urging nor threats could swerve him from his purpose when once formed. She also sincerely envied Miss Anney who rode so well and had ridden all the horses in Zalesin, even those unaccustomed to the saddle. But in England all the ladies ride on horseback, while with us somebody is worrying about somebody else. She hoped, however, that in Jastrzeb with so many skilled riders, "Zosia" will not have any fears about her; and that immediately after dinner they will go on an equestrian excursion and that she will be allowed to join the party, without, thank God, Pierog.

Ladislaus, in whom expectations of distant horseback jaunts in Miss Anney's company had excited fond hopes, and whom, as well as the others, the story about Pierog had put into good humor, turned to Marynia and said:

"I will give you a horse with iron legs, who is called 'Swimmer' because he can swim excellently. As for an excursion, the day is long and we could arrange one, if it were not that it is beginning to get cloudy."

"It will surely clear up," answered Marynia, "and I will dress myself right after dinner."

In fact, after dinner the guests were barely able to finish their black coffee before she appeared on the veranda, dressed in a black, tight-fitting riding-habit. In it she was simply charming, but so slender and tall that Gronski, gazing at her with his usual admiration, was the first to begin jesting:

"A real little flute," he said. "The wind will carry off such a woodcock, especially since it is commencing to blow."

And a strong blast of the western, warm wind really began to bend the tree-tops and drive here and there over the heavens clouds which on the azure background assumed large, ruddy, and globular forms.

Ladislaus, however, gave orders to saddle the horses and soon thereafter hastened to the stables to supervise the work. Miss Anney went upstairs to change her clothes; Gronski and Dolhanski followed her example. On the veranda remained only Pani Zosia, the doctor, the notary, and, attired as an equestrienne, Marynia, who cast uneasy glances alternately at the stables and at the sky, which was becoming more and more cloudy. After a time the first drops of rain began to fall and immediately thereafter a more important hindrance to their excursion occurred, for unexpectedly neighbors from Gorek, Pani Wlocek and daughter, the same who attended the funeral of Zarnowski, arrived in a carriage. In view of this, the horseback jaunt had to be abandoned.