Генрик Сенкевич
In Vain
CHAPTER XVIII
Days passed, still Yosef did not return to the countess, but Malinka said to Augustinovich, —
"Pelski may offer himself any day to Lula."
"And if he does not, she may offer herself to him," answered Augustinovich, with emphasis.
"Oh, that is not true, not true."
"We shall see."
"No, Pan Adam. Lula has much womanly pride, and if she should marry Pelski it would be only through that same pride, through anger at Yosef's indifference. Besides, to tell the truth, Pelski is the only man who loves her, for he is the only one who has remained – on whom she can count."
"Ah! but evidently she likes to count on some one."
Malinka was angry.
"She counted once on Pan Yosef; she was deceived. How can you blame her, when he does not come – do you understand? – when he does not come?"
Pan Adam was silent.
"She has been deceived painfully," continued Malinka, "and believe me, I alone know what that costs her, and though we are not so friendly as before (she rejected me herself), I see often how she suffers. Yesterday I went to her room and found her in tears. 'Lula!' asked I, though she withdrew from me, 'what is the matter with thee?' 'Nothing, I suffer from headache,' said she. 'My Lula,' said I, 'thou hast heartache, not headache!' I wished to throw myself on her neck, but she pushed me aside, and then stood up with such haughtiness that I was frightened. 'I was crying from shame,' said she, firmly. 'Wilt thou understand, from shame!' I wished to understand her, but was unable; I only know that the evening of that day I saw her in tears again. And dost thou see?"
"What does all this prove?"
"That it is not easy for her to renounce her idea of Yosef. What has happened that he does not come?"
"But if he should come?"
"She would not marry Pelski."
"Oh, I ridicule the idea that 'she would not.'"
"Yes, for you ridicule everything. But Pan Yosef? Is it noble on his part to desert her in this way?"
"Who knows what he intends to do?"
"He ought to know himself," answered Malinka, decidedly, "and he should not conceal his intentions from her."
"He has no time, he is working."
That day, however, Malinka convinced herself that Yosef was not sitting so diligently at home as Augustinovich had represented. While walking with her mother, she met him passing with some young man. He did not notice them. Malinka was almost terrified at his appearance. He seemed to her as pale and crushed as if he had recovered from a grievous illness. "Then he has been sick," thought she, after returning home. Now she understood why Pan Adam would not explain the absence. "Yosef commanded him not to frighten Lula." All at once Yosef rose in Malinka's eyes to the loftiness of an ideal.
Augustinovich came in the evening, as usual. In the drawing-room Pani Visberg and the countess were present.
"Pan Adam," exclaimed Malinka, "I know why Pan Yosef has not been here for so long a time!"
Lula's eyes gleamed, but that moment she controlled herself; still her hands trembled imperceptibly.
"The poor man, he must have been very sick; he is as pale as if he had come out of a coffin! Why did you not tell us of this?" asked Pani Visberg, quickly.
"Oh, Pan Adam was afraid that we should speak of it before Lula. Was that nice?" asked Malinka.
"What is the matter with thee, Lula? Art sick?"
"Nothing, nothing! I will come back in a moment."
Her face was pale, breath failed her. She went out, almost fled to her chamber. Pani Visberg wished to follow her. Malinka detained her gently but decisively.
"Thou must not go, mamma."
Then she turned to Augustinovich; her voice had a sad and serious sound.
"Pan Adam?"
Augustinovich bit his lips.
"Pan Adam! What is this? 'Lula is a coquette without a heart,' is she not?"
"Perhaps I was mistaken," blurted out Augustinovich; "but – but – "
He did not dare to cough out of himself at the moment that Yosef was going to marry Helena, that he would not come any more.
On returning home he was also afraid to tell Yosef what had happened.
Lula shut herself up in her chamber. Her head was on fire, and thoughts like a garland of sparks and ice were besieging her temples, and in the silence could be heard distinctly her hurried breathing and the throbbing of her heart. Pelski, Malinka, Pan Adam whirled around her in inexplicable chaos, and out of those fragments of thought as out of a grave rose higher and higher the pale, almost lifeless head of Yosef, with closed eyes. "He is sick! he is sick!" repeated she, in a whisper. "He will die, and never come here again."
Poor Lula interpreted differently from Malinka Yosef's absence. She judged that he had sacrificed himself for her, – that, not wishing to stand between her and Pelski, he had renounced her, and therefore he suffered so much and was sick. "Still, who told him that I should be happy with Pelski?" whispered she, quietly. "He did not trust me. My God, my God! but could he trust me?"
Memory brought before her as a reproach those moments of gleaming looks, alluring smiles, and velvety words given to Pelski; she remembered also that blush of shame with which she was blazing when Pelski learned that Yosef was the son of a blacksmith. And now she hid her burning face in her hands, but that was shame of another kind. It seemed to her at that moment that if Yosef himself were a blacksmith she would kiss his blackened forehead with delight even; even with perfect happiness would she place her head on his valiant breast, though it were covered with the apron of a blacksmith.
"How dark it is in my eyes! I did not know that I loved him," said she, trembling and aflame.
Her bosom moved quickly! Again some thought the most tender decked out her forehead with the brightness of an angel; she threw herself on her knees before an image of the Virgin.
"O mother of God!" cried she, aloud, "if any one has to suffer or to die, let me suffer, but preserve and love him, O Most Holy Mother!"
Then she rose in calmness, and was so bright with the light of love that one might have said that a silver lamp was shining in that dark little chamber before the image of the Holy Virgin.
During the two following days Augustinovich did not appear; but Pelski came, and according to Malinka's previsions, proposed to Lula. Seeing his cousin's face calm, and smiling with good hope, he expressed to her his hopes and wishes. The more painful was his astonishment when Lula gave him a decisively negative answer.
"I love another," was the substance of her answer.
Pelski wanted to learn who "that other" was. Lula told him without hesitation; then, as is done usually on such occasions, she offered him her friendship.
But Pelski did not accept the hand extended to him at parting.
"You have taken too much from me, you give me too little, cousin," whispered he, in a crushed voice. "For the happiness of a lifetime – friendship!!"
But Lula felt no reproach after his departure. She was thinking of something else. This is the bad side of love, that it never thinks of anything but itself. It excludes particulars, but as a recompense includes the whole. Thou feelest that if the world were one man thou wouldst press him to thy bosom and kiss him on the head as a father.
Something like that did Lula feel when she went to Malinka's chamber after Pelski's visit. She needed to confess to some one all that lay on her heart.
Malinka was sitting near the window. In the twilight, on the darkened panes, could be seen her mild, thoughtful little face. All at once Lula's arms were clasped around her neck.
"Is that thou, Lula?" asked she, in a low voice.
"I, Malinka!" answered Lula.
She was sitting on a small stool near Malinka's feet; she put her head on her knees.
"My kind Malinka, thou art not angry with me now, and dost not despise me?"
Malinka fondled her like a child.
"I was very much to blame as thou seest, but in my own heart I have found myself to-day. How pleasant it is for me here near thee! As formerly we talked long and often – let it be so to-day! Art thou willing?"
Malinka smiled half sadly, half jestingly, and answered, —
"Let it be so to-day, but later it will change. A certain 'His grace' will come and take Lula away, and I shall be left alone."
"But will he come?" inquired Lula, in a very low whisper.
"He will come. The poor man was sick surely from yearning. I did not understand what it meant that Pan Adam would not tell me why he came not; now I understand. Pan Yosef forbade him, he would not terrify thee."
"I think that he did not wish to hinder Pelski – so unkind of him to do this."
"But what did Pelski do?"
"I was just going to tell thee. He proposed to me to-day."
"And what?"
"I refused him, Malinka."
Silence continued awhile.
"He would not even take my hand when I gave it at parting, but could I do otherwise? I know that I acted very unkindly, very unkindly, but could I act otherwise? I do not love him."
"Better late than never. Thou didst obey the voice of thy heart. Only with Pan Yosef canst thou be happy."
"Oh, that is true, true."
"In a month or so," continued Malinka, "we shall array Lula in a white robe, weep over Lula the maiden and rejoice over Lula the wife. Thou wilt be happy, he and thou. He must be a good man, since all respect him so much."
"Do all respect him so much?" repeated Lula, who wanted to laugh and cry at the same moment.
"Oh, yes, mamma fears him even, and I also fear him a little, but I respect him for his character."
Lula put both hands under her head, and resting on Malinka's knees, looked into her face with eyes bright from tears.
Meanwhile it grew perfectly dark, then the moon rose, the dogs fell asleep; nothing was to be heard save the whispers of the two maidens filled with fancies by their talk.
All at once they were interrupted by the bell at the entrance.
"Maybe that is he!" cried Lula.
But it was not "he," for in the first room was heard Augustinovich's voice, —
"Are the ladies at home?"
"Go, Lula, into that room and hide there," said Malinka, quickly. "I will tell him how thou didst give the refusal to Pelski, I will beg him to repeat it to Pan Yosef. We shall see if he does not come. Thou mayst listen there."
The door opened. Augustinovich entered.
CHAPTER XIX
We have said that Augustinovich feared to tell Yosef what had happened at Pani Visberg's. Lula had deceived his expectations; in spite of aristocracy, in spite of Pelski, she loved the young doctor, since news of his sickness had shocked her to such a degree.
Augustinovich lost his humor and the freedom of thought usual to him. Whether he would or not, he felt respect for Lula, and he felt respect for woman. Ei! that was something so strange in him, so out of harmony with his moral make up, that he could not come into agreement with himself. He had the look of a man caught in a falsehood, and the falsehood was his understanding of woman. He grew very gloomy. Once even (a wonderful thing and strange for him, or forgotten) words were forced from him that were full of painful bitterness: "Oh, if one like her could be met in a lifetime, a man would not be what he is." He avoided Yosef, he feared him, he hesitated, he wished to confess everything; then again he deferred it till the morrow.
Finally Yosef himself took note of his strange demeanor.
"What is the matter with thee, Adam?" asked he.
"But of Lula he cannot ask!" cried Augustinovich, with comical despair.
Yosef sprang to his feet.
"Of Lula? What does that mean? Speak!"
"It means nothing; what should it mean? Is all this to mean something right away?"
"Augustinovich, thou art hiding something?"
"But the fellow is thinking only of Lula!" cried Augustinovich, with increasing despair.
Yosef with unheard-of effort mastered himself, but that was a calm before a terrible storm. His sunken cheeks grew still paler, his eyes were flaming.
"Well, I will tell thee all!" cried Augustinovich, anticipating the outburst. "I will tell, I will tell! Ei, who will forbid me to tell thee that thou hast won the case! May Satan – me if thou hast not won. She loves thee."
Yosef put his trembling hands to his perspiring face.
"But Pelski?" asked he.
"He has not proposed yet."
"Does she know everything about me?"
"Yosef!"
"Speak!"
"She knows nothing. I told her nothing."
Yosef's voice was dull and hoarse when he asked, —
"Why hast thou done me this injustice?"
"I thought that thou wouldst return to her."
Yosef twisted his hands till the fingers were cracking in their joints; Augustinovich's last words fell on him like red-hot coals. Return to her? That was to abandon Helena, and did not conscience itself defend Helena's cause? To return to Lula was to purchase the happiness of a lifetime, but to return to her was to dishonor Helena, to kill her, to become contemptible, to purchase contempt for himself. Oh, misfortune!
In Yosef's soul was taking place that devil's dance of a man with himself. Yosef was dancing with Yosef to the music of that orchestra of passion. Various thoughts, plans, methods, stormed in him; the battle raged along the whole line.
Augustinovich looked at his comrade with a face which was despairingly stupid, and he would have liked, as the saying is, to take himself by his own collar and throw himself out of doors.
All at once some decision was outlined on Yosef's face. The case was lost.
"Augustinovich!"
"What?"
"Thou wilt go this moment to Pani Visberg's and tell Lula that I am going to marry, that the ceremony will take place in a month, and that I never shall return to her, never. Dost understand?"
Augustinovich rose up and went.
Malinka received him in the way known to us. Lula was to hear their conversation from behind the door.
Malinka, full of imaginings from her recent talk with Lula, was gladsome and smiling; she pressed Pan Adam's hand cordially.
But he did not respond with a like cordiality.
"It is well that you have come," said she. "I have much to tell you, much."
"And I too have much to tell, much. I have come as an envoy."
"From Pan Yosef?"
"From Pan Yosef."
"Is he better?"
"He is sick. Has Pelski been here?"
"He has. I have wanted to talk of this."
"I am listening, Panna Malinka."
"He proposed to Lula."
"And what then?"
"She refused him. Oh, Pan Adam, she loves no man but Pan Yosef, she wants to belong to him only. My dear, honest Lula!"
Silence lasted a moment.
Pan Adam's voice quivered when he pronounced the following words deliberately, —
"She will not belong to him."
"Pan Adam!"
"Yosef, according to promise, is going to marry."
This news struck both young ladies like a thunderbolt. For a moment there was deep silence. All at once the door of the adjoining chamber opened. Lula entered the drawing-room.
On her face a blush of offended womanly dignity was playing, in her eyes pride was gleaming. It seemed to her that everything which she held sacred in her heart had been trampled.
"Malinka," cried she, "ask no more, I implore thee! Enough, enough! This gentleman has delivered his message. Why lower one's self by an answer?"
And taking Malinka by the hand, she led her out of the chamber almost with violence.
Augustinovich followed them awhile with his eyes, then nodded a couple of times.
"By the prophet!" said he, "I understand her. She is right, but so is Yosef. Hei! I must fly before everything breaks."
In a moment he ran to Pelski, told him the whole story.
"Some fatality weighed on them," concluded Augustinovich. "Yosef could not act otherwise, could he?"
"He acted as was fitting, but what inclined you to tell me of this?"
"A bagatelle. One question: Did not Lula act nobly in rejecting your hand?"
"I will leave the answer to myself."
"Leave it, my dear sir! The answer is all one to me, Lula is nothing to me; I know only that if my friend withdraws her future will not be enviable, and you are her cousin – The case is too bad."
Pelski thought awhile.
"Too bad? Ha, what is too bad?"
"That your proposal did not come a little later."
Pelski walked with quick step through the room.
"Now, never!" whispered he to himself.
Augustinovich heard this monologue.
"Too late, too late; but – but – now one small request. Tell no one that I was here, especially do not tell Pani Visberg or my friend if ever you see them."
"What is this to your friend?"
"Everything; but you would not understand it, dear count – Till our next meeting!"
Pelski, left alone, meditated long as to how that could really concern Augustinovich. He did not think out any answer, but came to the conviction that it might concern his own self somewhat.
"I might return to her, feigning ignorance of what has happened," said he. "Poor Lula!"
CHAPTER XX
The two young ladies were sitting in Lula's chamber. That was a painful silence. If there are grievous moments in life, they had thrown their weight on the present fate of Lula. Everything which she held sacred in her breast had been trampled. She had put into that love the best parts of her moral existence, the victory to her had been like a wedding solemnity; by the power of this feeling she had risen from a momentary fall, she had conquered family prejudice, rejected the hand of a man who loved her, and with it a calm future, life in plenty, her own independence, and the pay for all this was information that he whom she loved was to marry another.
Ei! she lost still more. All the angelic qualities which preceding days had given her were crushed now into ruins of despair. Her soul might wither to its foundation! Had she not lost with love also faith and hope, not in their theological sense, but in all their vital value for life? The ground was pushing from under her. Like a boat without an oar, she was to drift in the future beyond sight of shore. To-day an orphan gathered in by honest hearts, she may find herself to-morrow simply suffering hunger, without a morsel of bread; to-day so white that lilies might bloom on her breast, she may in future stain that whiteness with the gall of her own bitterness: to-day half a child almost, in the spring, in the May morning, she may after this or that number of years have to look at her life's fruitless autumn.
Humiliated, broken, "like twigs after a tempest," pushed away from her moral basis, killed in her happiness; with dry burning eyes she pressed the weeping Malinka to her bosom convulsively.
Lula did not weep, although she had tears enough for weeping; anger had dried them. But Malinka cried enough for both.
Next morning the countess received two letters, – one from Pelski, the other from Yosef.
"Madame (wrote Pelski), – The pain which I felt in consequence of your answer did not permit me to reckon with my words. I rejected the friendship which you offered me. I regret that act. Though I cannot explain your treatment of me, I see that you followed the voice of your heart. I trust that that voice has not deceived you. If he whom you have chosen loves you as much as I should, be assured of your happiness. I reproach him not, I dare not judge a man whom you love. As to myself, forced by stern necessity to part with the hope of possessing you, I implore you as the highest favor not to remember my words thrown out in a moment of pain. Permit me to return and claim that friendship inconsiderately rejected, friendship which for me in the future may take the place of the happiness of a lifetime."
In the evening Augustinovich brought a letter from Yosef. Lula did not wish to open it.
"Do not do him injustice," said Augustinovich, imploringly, "for at the present moment my old friend is perhaps – " Tears choked him, further words stuck in his throat. "These may be his last words – I took him to the hospital yesterday," whispered he.
Lula grew as pale as linen. It seemed for a moment that she would faint. In vain did she strive to preserve a calm and cool face, her whole body shook like a leaf. Come what might, she loved Yosef.
She took from Pan Adam's hand the letter, which read as follows: —
"Dear Lady, – I was able to endure the loss of your hand, but not of your respect. Read and judge. A dying friend left to my care a woman whom he loved with all the power of a suffering heart. I had deprived him of the love of this woman without wishing to do so. After his death I became acquainted with her more intimately, and it seemed to me that I loved her. Unfortunately I told her so. After that you know, beloved lady, what happened. After that I hid from myself my ill-fated attachment to you. How much I suffered! Oh, pardon me! I am a man, I too must love, but still it was not from my lips that you learned of that love. When at last I stood before my own conscience, when the moment of memory came, judge yourself, how was I to act, whither was I to go, what was I to do? The oath to a dying man, the word given to a woman unhappy beyond expression, everything except my heart commanded me to abdicate you. It was not through my fault that you learned of this only yesterday. This news should have gone to you at the time when Count Pelski appeared. Misfortune, and the frivolity of a man ordained otherwise. This is the state of affairs! Judge, and, if you are able, forgive. Adam says that I am ill. This is true: my thoughts are weeping, I feel a burning in my blood, and out of pain and chaos I see one thing clearly, – that I love! that I love thee, O angel!"
After the reading of this letter the remnants of anger and pride vanished from Lula's forehead, on her beautiful face a mild though deep melancholy fixed itself.
"Pan Adam," said she, "tell the gentleman that he has acted as he should."
"And forgive me, dear lady," said Augustinovich, throwing himself on his knees. "I was unjust. I did you a wrong, but I had no idea, I knew not, that there were such women in the world as you are."
