"So people say, but for this very reason it lies in the position that some one will take you in hand very thoroughly."
"The hand is a dear one!" said Pan Gideon, with a joyousness which for him was unusual.
They drove very slowly, for the mud in the village was terrible; since they had started from Radom not so soon after midday, night had fallen already. In the cottages at the two sides of the road light came from the windows and stretched in red lines to the cottages opposite. Here and there near the fence appeared some human form, that of a woman, or of a man who, seeing the travellers, bared his head and bowed as low as his girdle. It was clear from these bowings, which seemed excessive, that Pan Gideon held people in his fist, nay more, that he held them too firmly, and that Father Voynovski blamed him, not without reason, for tyranny. But the old n.o.ble felt in his bosom a softer heart than had ever been in it till that evening, so looking at those bent figures, and seeing the windows of those cottages leaning earthward, he said,--
"I will grant some favor to those subjects whose part she takes always."
"Oh, see to it that thou do so," said the prelate.
And they were silent. Pan Gideon was occupied for a time with his own thoughts, then he added,--
"I know that you need no advice in this matter; but you must explain to the lady what a benefaction is becoming ready for her, and that I think about her first of all; but in case of resistance, which I do not expect,--well, then even scold her in some degree."
"You said that you did not wish to constrain her."
"I said so, but it is one thing if I were to threaten, and another if some one else, who, besides, is a spiritual person, exposes her ingrat.i.tude."
"Leave that task to me. I have undertaken it and will use my best efforts; but I will talk to the girl in the most tender way possible."
"Very well, very well! But one word more. She feels great abhorrence for Tachevski, but should there be any mention of him it would be well to say something more against him."
"If he has acted as you say, this will not be needed."
"We are arriving. Well! In the name of the Father and the Son--"
"And the Holy Ghost--Amen!"
They arrived, but no one came out to meet them, for the wheels made no sound because of deep mud, and the dogs did not bark at the horses or at the men, whom they recognized. It was dark in the hall, for the servants were evidently sitting in the kitchen; and it happened that when Pan Gideon first called, "Is any one here?" no one came to him, and at the second call, in sharper tones, the young lady herself appeared.
She came holding a light in her hand, but since she was in the gleam of it and they in the darkness she, not seeing them at once, remained near the threshold; and they did not speak for a moment since to begin with, it seemed a special sign to them, that she had come out before others, and second, because her beauty astonished them as much as if they had never beheld it till that moment.
The fingers with which she grasped the candle seemed transparent and rosy; the gleam crept along her bosom, lighted her lips and her small face which looked somewhat drowsy and sad, perhaps because her eyes were in a deep shade while her forehead and the glorious bright hair, which was as a crown just above it, were still in full radiance. And she all in quiet and splendor stood there in the gloom like an angel created from ruddy brightness.
"Oh, as G.o.d is dear to me, a vision!" said the prelate.
Then Pan Gideon called,--
"Anulka!"
Leaving the light on a nitch of the chimney, she ran to them and gave greeting, joyously. Pan Gideon pressed her to his heart with much feeling, commanded her to rejoice at the arrival of a guest so distinguished, a man famous as a giver of counsel, and when after greeting they entered the dining-hall he asked,--
"Is supper over?"
"No. The servants were to bring it from the kitchen, and that is why no one was standing at the entrance."
The prelate looked at the old n.o.ble, and asked,--
"Then perhaps without waiting?"
"No, no," answered Pan Gideon, "Pani Vinnitski will be here directly."
Thereupon Pani Vinnitski made herself felt in reality, and fifteen minutes later they sat down to heated wine and fried eggs. The prelate ate and drank well, but at the end of the supper his face became serious, and he said, turning to Panna Anulka,--
"My gracious young lady, G.o.d knows why people call me a counsellor and why they take advice of me, but since your guardian does so, I must speak with you on a certain task of importance which he has given my poor wit to accomplish."
When Pan Gideon heard this, the veins swelled on his forehead; the young lady paled somewhat, and rose in disquiet, for, through some unknown reason, it seemed to her that the prelate would talk about Yatsek.
"I beg you to another room," said he.
And they left the dining-hall.
Pan Gideon sighed deeply once and a second time; then he drummed on the table with his fingers, and feeling the need of talking down his internal emotion by words of some kind, he said to Pani Vinnitski,--
"Have you noticed how all the relatives of my late wife hate Anulka?"
"Especially the Krepetskis," answered Pani Vinnitski.
"Ha! they almost grit their teeth when they see her; but soon they will grit them still harder."
"How is that?"
"You will learn in good season; but meanwhile we must find a bed for the prelate."
After a time Pan Gideon was alone. Two servants came to remove the supper dishes, but he sent them away with a quick burst of anger, and there was silence in the dining-hall, only the great Dantsic clock repeated loudly and with importance: tik-tak! tik-tak! Pan Gideon placed his hand on his bald head and began to walk in the chamber. He approached the door beyond which the prelate was talking with Anulka, but he heard merely sounds in which he distinguished the voice but not the words of the prelate. So in turn he walked and halted. He went to the window, for it seemed to him that there he would breathe with more freedom. He looked for a while at the sky, with eyes from which expression had vanished,--that sky over which the wind was hurrying the torn clouds of spring, with light on their upper edges through which the pale moon seemed to rise higher and higher. As often as he rested an evil foreboding took hold of him. He looked through the window close to which black limbs of trees were wrestling back and forth with the wind, as if in torment; in the same way his thoughts were struggling back and forth, disordered, evil, resembling reproaches of conscience, and painful forebodings that some bad thing would happen, and that near punishment was waiting--but when it grew bright out of doors, again better hope entered him.
Every one has a right to think of his own happiness--as to Yatsek Tachevski it was of little importance what such people do! What was the question at present? The happiness and calm future of a young girl; but besides this there smiled on him a little life in his old age--and this belongs to him. This only is real, the rest is wind, wind!
And he felt again a turning of the head, and black spots danced before his vision, but that lasted very briefly. Then he approached the door behind which his fate was in the balance. Meanwhile the light on the table acquired a long wick and the chamber grew gloomy. At times the voice of the prelate became sharper, so that words would have reached the ear of Pan Gideon had it not been for that loud and continuous "tik-tak." It was easy to understand that such a conversation could not end quickly, still, Pan Gideon"s alarm grew and grew, turning, as it were, into certain wonderful questions woven into the past, with memories not only of former misfortunes and pain, but also of former unextinguished transgressions, of former grievous sins, and of recent injustices inflicted not only on Tachevski, but on others.
"Why and wherefore shouldst thou be happy?" asked his conscience.
And he would have given at that moment he knew not how much if even Pani Vinnitski might return to the chamber, so that he should not be alone with those thoughts of his. But Pani Vinnitski was occupied somewhere with work in another part of the mansion, while in that dining-hall there was nothing but the clock with its "tik-tak!"
"For what deed should G.o.d reward thee?" asked his conscience.
Pan Gideon felt now that if that girl, who was at once like a flower and an angel, should fail him, there would be a darkness in his life which would last till the night of death should descend on him.
With that the door opened on a sudden and Panna Sieninski came in from the next chamber. She was pale; there were tears in her eyes; and behind her was the prelate.
"Art thou weeping?" asked Pan Gideon, with a hoa.r.s.e, stifled voice.
"From grat.i.tude, guardian," cried she, stretching her hands to him.
And she fell at his knees there.