Генрик Сенкевич
In Vain
Thenceforth peculiar changes began to appear in her; sometimes a strange disquiet mastered her, she fell into thoughtfulness; sometimes she walked as if drowsy, as if oppressed, weakened; at another time she covered her head on Malinka's breast, and kissed her without reason. Yosef she saw daily.
And so days and months passed; but by degrees some change began to take place in Yosef too. Gradually that dear child had ripened in his soul and become a beautiful woman in full bloom. His glance when he looked at her had not that former complete transparency and calmness. Formerly he might have lulled her to sleep on his breast, and laid her as he would a child on a couch; to-day that would have caused a surprisingly different sensation. The idyl grew stronger in the spirit of both, till at last, after so many and so many days, or so many and so many months, the following conversations took place in the lodgings of Pani Visberg and those of Yosef.
"If thou wert in love, Malinka?"
"Then, my Lula, I should be very happy, and I should love very much; and seest thou, my Lula, the Lord God would arrange so that the man should love me also."
"But if he did not love?"
Malinka rubbed her forehead with her hand.
"I do not know, I do not know, but it seems to me that there is a difference between loving and loving. I should love this way – O God! I do not know how to tell it – this way is how I should love – "
Malinka threw her arms around the neck of her friend, and pressing her to her bosom, covered her with fondling and kisses.
"My Lula, he would have to love me then."
And like two doves they hid their heads on the breasts of each other.
There was silence.
"Malinka!" said Lula at last, with tears in her voice.
"Lula, my heartfelt!"
"Malinka, I love."
"I know, Lula."
"Old man!" said Augustinovich to Yosef.
"What news?"
"May I be – if this is new. Old man, I saw thee kissing the countess's veil. May I be hanged if thou didst not kiss it! Well, thou art fond of kissing – wait, I have a parasol here, perhaps thou wilt kiss the parasol; if that does not suit thee, then perhaps my last year's cloak. The sleeve lining is torn, but otherwise it is a good cloak. May I be! – Give me the pipe – I know what this means, old man; that fool of a Visberg does not know, but I know."
Yosef covered his face with his hands.
Augustinovich looked at him in silence, shuffled his feet under the table, coughed, muttered something through his teeth; finally he said in a voice of emotion, —
"Old man!"
Yosef made no answer.
Augustinovich shook him by the shoulder with sympathy.
"Well, old man, do not grieve, be not troubled – thou art concerned about Helena."
Yosef trembled.
"About Helena. Thou art honest, old man. What is to be done with her now? – I know! If thou wish, old man, I will marry her. By Jove, I will marry her!"
Yosef stood up. Beautiful resolution shone on his broad forehead, and though on his frowning brows thou couldst read pain and struggle, thou couldst see that the victory would fall where Yosef wished it. He pressed Augustinovich's hand.
"I am going out."
"Where art thou going?"
"To Helena."
Augustinovich stared at him.
"To He-le-na?"
"Yes," answered Yosef. "Enough of deceit and hesitation! To Helena with a request for her hand."
Augustinovich looked at him as he went out, and shaking his head, muttered through his teeth, —
"See, stupid Adasia,1 how people act."
Then he filled his pipe, turned on the bed, and snored with redoubled energy.
CHAPTER XIII
Helena was not at home. Yosef waited several hours for her, walking unquietly up and down in her chamber. He resolved at whatever cost to come out of the false position in which he had been put by his guardianship over the widow and over the countess, but he acknowledged to himself that this resolution brought him pain. That pain was great, almost physical. Yosef had come to ask Helena's hand, but it seemed to him at that moment that he could not endure her. He was rushing toward the other with heart and mind; thou wouldst have said that he felt a prayer in his own breast, that he begged of his own will for a moment more of that other. He loved Lula as only energetic natures can love who are apparently cold.
He prepared himself for the meeting with Helena, and he foresaw that it would cost him no little. There is nothing more repulsive than to tell a woman who is not loved that she is loved. That is one of the least possible hypocrisies for a real manly nature. Yosef on a time had loved Helena, but he had ceased to love her, even before he had observed how and how much he had become attached to Lula. When he saw this he had a moment of weakness; he felt this new love, and he feared to think of it and confess it. When his heart spoke too loudly, he said to it: "Be silent!" And he closed his ears, fearing his own possible actions and especially decisions for the future. This was not in accordance with him, and could not last long.
Augustinovich with his peculiar cynicism cast this love in his eyes, and forced him to meet it face to face. Further evasion was now impossible. Yosef stood up to the battle, and went from it to Helena.
But he did not go without traces of a struggle. He had a fever in his blood, and he could not think calmly. Various pictures of small but dear memories came to his mind, wherewith at that moment he believed more than ever that Lula loved him.
"Have I the right to destroy her happiness too?" This imbecile thought roared in him like the last arrow of conquered warriors. He broke it, however, with the reflection that between him and Helena there was an obligation, between him and Lula nothing.
Other difficulties belonged to the result of Yosef's decision. The decision was honest, but still to turn it into reality he had to lie, and then to lie all his life by pretending love. Evil appeared as a result of good. "Ei, shall I not have to go mad?" thought he. "And this life will be snarled like a thread. Every one is whirling round after happiness, as a dog after his own tail, and every man is chasing it with equal success." Ho! Yosef, who did not love declamation, had still fallen into the dialectics of unhappiness. Such a philosophy has a charm: a man loves his misfortune as a happiness.
Meanwhile evening came, but Helena was not to be seen. Yosef supposed that she must have gone to the cemetery, and he did not himself know why that thought made him angry on that occasion.
He lighted a candle and began to walk through the room. By chance his glance fell on Potkanski. Yosef had not known him, and did not like him, though for the justification of his antipathy he could hardly bring in the words "lord's son."
When he looked again at that broad, calm face, something glittered in his eyes which was almost like hatred.
"And for her I am only the counterfeit of that man there," thought he.
These words were not true, Yosef differed altogether in character from Potkanski, and Helena loved him now for himself; nevertheless the thought pricked him, he would have given much if Helena had not on a time been the wife of that man there, and had not had a child by him. "And I shall have a child," said he, "a son whom I shall rear into a man, strong and practical."
"Ah, if that future child were mine and Lula's!"
He shook feverishly and pressed his lips; a few drops of perspiration glittered on his forehead. In the last thought there was a whole ocean of desire.
He sat in that way for half an hour yet before Helena came. She was dressed in black, with which color her pale complexion and blond hair came out excellently. When she saw Yosef she smiled timidly; but great pleasure was in that smile, for he had been a rare guest in recent times.
Happily for her, she had enough of tact or of feminine foresight not to reproach him; she did not dare, either, to rejoice aloud at his coming, since she knew not what he was bringing. But the palm which she gave him embraced his hand firmly and broadly. That palm quivered with the heartfelt language of movements interpreting fear and feeling when lips are silent.
With a melancholy smile and hand so extended she was enchanting with the inexpressible charm of an enamoured woman. If she had had a star in her hair, she might have passed simply for an angel, – perhaps she had even the aureole around her head which love gives, – but for Yosef she was not an angel, nor had she an aureole; but he touched her hand with his lips.
"Be seated, Helena, near me, and listen," said he. "I have not been here for a long time, and I wish that the former freedom and confidence should return to us."
She threw aside her cape and hat, arranged her hair with her hand, and sat down in silence. Great alarm was evident on her face.
"I hear thee, Yosef."
"It is four years since the death of Gustav, who confided thee to me. I have kept the promise given him as well as I was able, and as I knew how, but the relation between us has not been such as it should be. This must change, Helena."
He needed to draw breath, he had to pronounce sentence on himself.
In the silence which lasted awhile, the beating of Helena's heart could be heard. Her face was pale, her eyes blinked quickly, as is usual with women who are frightened.
"Must they change?" whispered she, in a scarcely audible voice.
"Be my wife."
"Yosef!"
She placed her hands together, as if for prayer, and looked at him a moment with eyes wandering because of pressing thoughts and feelings.
"Be my wife. The time of which I spoke to thee before has come."
She threw her arms around his neck, and put her head on his breast.
"Thou art not trifling with me, Yosef? No, no! Then I shall be happy yet? Oh, I love thee so!"
Helena's bosom rose and fell, her face was radiant, and her lips approached his.
"Oh, I have been very sad, very lonely," continued she, "but I believed in thee. The heart trusts when it loves. Thou art mine! I only live through thee – what is life? If one laughs and is joyful, if one is sad and weeps, if one thinks and loves – that is life. But I rejoice and I weep only through thee, I think of thee, I love thee. If people wished to divide us I should tear out my hair and bind thy feet with it. I am like a flame which thou mayst blow. I am thine – let me weep! Dost thou love me?"
"I love."
"I have wept for so many years, but not such tears as I shed to-day. It is so bright in my soul! Let me close my eyes and look at that brightness. How much happiness in one word! Oh, Yosef, my Yosef, I know not even how to think of this."
It was grievous for him to hear words like those from Helena; he felt the immense falsehood and discord in which his life had to flow with that woman thenceforward, that woman so beautiful, so greatly loving, and loved so little.
He rose and took farewell of her.
Helena, left alone, placed her burning forehead against a pane of the window, and long did she stand thus in silence. At last she opened the window, and, placing her head on her palm, looked into the broad, sparkling summer night. Silent tears flowed down her face, her golden tresses fell upon her bosom, the moonlight was moving upon her forehead and putting a silvery whiteness on her dress.
CHAPTER XIV
A few days later Augustinovich was sitting in Yosef's lodgings; he was working vigorously in view of the approaching examination. Loving effect in all things, he had shaded the windows, and in the middle of the room had placed a table, before which he was standing at that moment. Evidently he was occupied with some experiment, for on the table was a multitude of old glass vessels and pots full of powders and fluids, and in the centre was burning a spirit lamp, which surrounded with a blue flame the stupid head of a retort which was quivering under the influence of boiling liquid contained in it.
Work burned, as they said, in the hands of Augustinovich; no one could labor so quickly as he. With a glad smile on his face he moved really with enthusiasm, frequently entertaining himself with a song or a dialogue with the first vessel he took up, or with a pious remark on the fleeting nature of this world.
Sometimes he left his work for a moment, and raising his eyes and his hands declaimed in tones which were very tragic, —
"Ah, Eurydice! before thy beauty
I passed the rounds of success,
And the sentence of Delphi was undoubted,
That on earth I am the only one blest."
Then again in a hundred trills and cadences he sang, —
"O piano! piano! – Zitto! pia-ha-ha-no!"
Or similar creations of his own mind on a sudden, —
"And if thou fill a pipe, O Youth,
And pressing the bowl with thy finger, put fire on it."
"By Mohammed! If Yosef should come, this work would go on more quickly; but he is marrying Helena at present – Ei! and as innocence is dear to me, I would fix it this way! Dear Helena, permit – And what farther? Oh, the farther the better – "
All at once some one pulled the bell.
Augustinovich turned toward the door and extending his hand intoned, —
"Road-weary traveller,
Cross thou my threshold."
The door opened; a man young and elegantly dressed entered the room.
Augustinovich did not know him.
The most important notable trait of the newly arrived was a velvet sack-coat and light-colored trousers; besides, he was washed, shaven, and combed. His face was neither stupid nor clever, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither kind nor malicious, moreover he was neither tall nor of low stature. His nose, mouth, chin, and forehead were medium; special marks he had none.
"Does Pan Yosef Shvarts live here?"
"It is certain that he lives here."
"Is it possible to see him?"
"It is possible at this time; but in the night, when it is very dark, the case is different."
The newly arrived began to lose patience; but Augustinovich's face expressed rather gladness than malice.
"The owner of this house sent me to Pan Yosef as to a man who knows the address and the fate of Countess Leocadia N – . Could you give me some explanations as to her?"
"Oh yes, she is very nice!"
"That is not the question."
"Just that, indeed. Were I to answer that she is as ugly as night, would you be curious to make her acquaintance? No, no, by the prophet!"
"My name is Pelski; I am her cousin."
"Oh, I am not her cousin at all!"
The newly arrived frowned.
"Either you do not understand me, or you are trifling."
"Not at all, though Pani Visberg always insists that I am – But you are not acquainted with Pani Visberg. She is an excellent woman. She is distinguished by this, that she has a daughter, though it is nothing great to have a daughter; but she is as rich as Jupiter!"
"Sir!"
"Now I hear steps on the stairs, – Pan Yosef is coming surely. I will lay a wager with you that he is coming – "
Indeed, the door opened and Yosef walked in. One would have said that his severe and intelligent face had matured in the last few hours; in its expression was the calm energy of a man who had already decided on the means of advance in the future.
"This is Pan Pelski, Yosef," said Augustinovich.
Yosef looked at the newly arrived inquiringly.
Meanwhile Pelski explained to him the object of his coming; and though at news of the relationship of the young man to Lula his forehead wrinkled slightly, he gave him her address without hesitation.
"I take farewell of you," said Yosef, at last; "the countess will be greatly delighted to find in you a cousin, but it is a pity that she could not have found a relative two months ago."
Pelski muttered something unintelligible. Evidently Yosef's figure and style of intercourse imposed on him no little.
"Why give him Lula's address?" asked Augustinovich.
"Because I should have acted ridiculously had I refused."
"But I did not give it."
"What didst thou tell him?"
"A thousand things except the address. I did not know whether thou wouldst be satisfied if I gave it."
"He would have found the address anyhow."
"Oh, it will be pleasant at Pani Visberg's. Wilt thou go there to-day?"
"No."
"And to-morrow?"
"No."
"But when?"
"Never."
"It is no trick, old man, to flee before danger."
"I am no knight errant, I am not Don Quixote, I choose rather to avoid dangers and conquer than choose them and fall. Not Middle-Age boasting commands me, but reason."
A moment of silence followed.
"Wert thou at Helena's yesterday?" asked Augustinovich.
"I was."
"When will the marriage be?"
"Right away after I receive my degree."
"Maybe it is better for thee that the affair ends thus."
"Why dost thou say that?"
"I do not know but thou wilt be angry; but Lula – now, I do not believe her – "
Yosef's eyes gleamed with a wonderful light; he put his hand on Augustinovich's shoulder.
"Say nothing bad of her," said he, with emphasis.
He wished, indeed, that the countess, torn from him by the force of circumstances, should remain in his mind unblemished. He took pleasure in thinking of her.
"What am I to tell her when she asks about thee?" inquired Augustinovich, after a short silence.
"Tell her the truth, tell her that I am going to marry another."
"Ei, old man, I will tell her something else."
"Why?" asked Yosef, looking him in the eyes.
"Oh, so!"
"Speak clearly."
"She seems to love thee."
Yosef's face flushed; he knew Lula's feeling, but that information from the lips of another startled him. It filled his breast with sweetness and as it were with despair together with the sweetness.
"Who told thee that?" asked he.
"Malinka; she tells me everything."
"Then tell Lula that I marry another from inclination and duty."
"Amen!" concluded Augustinovich.
In the evening he went to Pani Visberg's; Malinka opened the door to him.
"Oh, is this you?" said she, with a blush.
Augustinovich seized her hands and kissed them repeatedly.
"Oh, Pan Adam! that is not permitted, not permitted," insisted the blushing girl.
"It is, it is!" answered he, in a tone of deep conviction. "But – but," continued he, removing his overcoat and buttoning his gloves (he was dressed with uncommon elegance), "was some young man here this afternoon?"
"He was; he will come in the evening."
"So much the better."
Augustinovich went into the drawing-room with Malinka. The drawing-room had somehow a look of importance, as if for the reception of a notable guest. On the table a double lamp was burning, the piano was open.
"Why did Pan Yosef not come with you?"
"The same question from the countess will meet me. In every case permit me to defer my answer till she asks."
The countess did not keep them waiting long. She entered, dressed in black, with simply a few pearls in her hair.
"But Pan Yosef?" asked she at once.
"He is not coming."
"Why?"
"He is occupied. Building his future."
The countess was wounded by the thought that Yosef would not come.
"But do you not help him in that labor?" asked she.
"May my guardian angel keep me from such work."
"It must be very difficult."
"Like every new building."
"Why does he work so?"
"Duty."
"I believe that Pan Yosef builds everything on that foundation."
"This time it will be more difficult for him than ever before. But somebody is coming – that is your cousin. What a splendid man!"
Pan Pelski entered the drawing-room; soon after came Pani Visberg also.
After the greetings conversation began to circle about in the ocean of commonplace.
Augustinovich took little part in it. He sat in an armchair, partly closed his eyes with an expression of indifference toward everything. He had the habit of closing his eyes while making observations, when nothing escaped his notice.
Count Pelski (we had forgotten to state that he had that title) sat near Lula, twirling in his fingers the string of his eyeglasses, and conversing with her vivaciously.
"Till I came to Kieff," said he, "I knew nothing of the misfortune which had met our whole family, but especially you, through the death of your esteemed father."
"Did you know my father?" asked Lula, with a sigh.
"No, cousin. I knew only that unfortunate quarrels and lawsuits separated our families for a number of years. I knew nothing of those quarrels, since I was young and always absent, and if I am to make a confession my present visit was undertaken only as an attempt at reconciliation."
"What was the degree of relationship between you and my father?"
"Reared abroad, I know little of our family relations in general; for example, I am indebted to a lucky chance for discovering not our relationship, of which I was aware, but other intimate bonds connecting our families from of old."
"Is it permitted to inquire about this circumstance?"
"With pleasure, cousin. Having taken on me, after the death of my father, the management of my property and family affairs, I looked into the papers and various documents touching my family. Well, in these documents I discovered that your family is not only related to the Pelskis, but has the same escutcheon."
"To a certain extent, then, we are to thank chance for our acquaintance."
"I bless this chance, cousin."
Lula dropped her eyes, her small hand twisted the end of her scarf; after a while she raised her head.
"And for me it is equally pleasant," said she.
The shadow of a smile flew over Augustinovich's face.
"I had much difficulty in finding your lodgings. This gentleman" (Pelski indicated Augustinovich with one eye) "has a marvellous method of giving answers. Fortunately his room-mate came; he gave me an answer at last."
"I lived in the same house as they," added the countess.
"How did you become acquainted with them, cousin?"
"When father fell ill, Pan Shvarts watched him in his last hours; afterward he found Pani Visberg, and I am much indebted to him."
Augustinovich's closed eyelids opened a little, and the sneering expression vanished from his face.
"Is he a doctor?" asked Pelski.
"He will be a doctor soon."
Pelski meditated a moment.
"I was acquainted in Heidelberg with a professor and writer of the same name. From what family is this man?"
"Oh, I do not know, indeed," answered the countess, blushing deeply.
Augustinovich's eyes opened to their full width, and with an indescribable expression of malice he turned toward the countess.
"I thought," said he, "that you knew perfectly whence Pan Yosef came, and what his family is."
Lula's confusion reached the highest degree.
"I – do not remember," groaned she.
"Do you not? Then I will remind you. Pan Yosef was born in Zvinogrodets, where his father in his day was a blacksmith."
Pelski looked at his cousin, and bending toward her said with sympathy, —
"I am pained, cousin, at the fatality which forced you to live with people of a different sphere."
Lula sighed.
Oh, evil, evil was that sigh. Lula knew that among those people of a different sphere she had found aid, protection, and kindness; that for this reason they should be for her something more than that cousin of recent acquaintance. But she was ashamed to tell him this, and she remained silent, a little angry and a little grieved.
Meanwhile Pani Visberg invited her guests to tea. Lula ran for a while to her own chamber, and sitting on her bed covered her face with her hands. At that moment she was in Yosef's chamber mentally. "He is toiling there," thought she, "and here they speak of him as of some one strange to me. Why did that other say that he was the son of a blacksmith?"
It seemed to her as if they were wronging Yosef, but she felt offended at him, too, because he was the son of a blacksmith.
At tea she sat near her cousin, a little thoughtful, a little sad, turning unquiet glances toward Augustinovich, who from the moment of his malicious interference filled her with a certain fear.
"Indeed thou art not thyself, Lula," said Pani Visberg, placing her hand on the girl's heated forehead.
Malinka, who was standing with the teapot in her hand, pouring tea in the light, stopped the yellowish stream, and turning her head said with a smile, —
"Lula is only serious. I find thee, Lula, in black colors – art thou in love?"
The countess understood Malinka's idea, but she was not confused.
"Black is the color of mourning; in every case it is my color."
"And beautiful as thy word, cousin," added Pelski.
After tea she seated herself at the piano, and from behind the music-rack could be seen her shapely forehead marked with regular brows. She played a certain melancholy mazurka of Chopin, but trouble and disquiet did not leave her face.
Augustinovich knew music, and from her playing he divined the condition of her mind. Still he thought, —
"She is sad, therefore she plays; but she plays because her cousin is listening."
But on the way home he thought more about Lula and Yosef than one might have expected from his frivolous nature.
"Oh, Satan take it, what will happen, what will happen?" muttered he.
In the midst of these thoughts he entered his lodgings. Yosef was not sleeping yet; he was sitting leaning on his elbows over some book.
"Hast thou been at Pani Visberg's?"
"I have."
Impatience and curiosity were quivering in Yosef's face; evidently he wished to ask about the evening, but on thinking the matter over he rested his head on his hands again, and began to read.
Suddenly he threw the book aside and walked a couple of times through the room.
"Thou wert at Pani Visberg's?"
"I was."
"Ha!"
"Well, what?"
"Nothing."
He sat down to his book again.
