“My dear love, I will always love thee and him, be sure.”
Thereupon Marynia tried to raise his hand to her lips, but from weakness she was not able to do so; then she smiled at him from thankfulness. And again she said, “Do not think that I suppose for a moment anything terrible, not at all! but I should like to confess.”
A shiver went through Pan Stanislav from head to feet.
“Well, my child,” answered he, with a voice of fear, and as it were not his own voice.
And, recollecting that once her expression “service of God” pleased him, and wishing to let him know that it was not the question of anything else here but the performance of ordinary religious duties, she repeated, with an almost glad smile, —
“The service of God.”
The confession took place next morning. Pan Stanislav was so sure that that was the end that he was almost astonished because Marynia was alive yet, and because she was even a little better in the evening.
He did not dare to admit hope into his soul. But she became brighter, and said that she breathed more easily. About midnight she began the usual warfare with him about his going to rest. Indeed, from trouble of mind and toil he looked not much better than she did. He refused at first, contending that he had slept in the daytime, and that he was refreshed, which was not true; but she insisted absolutely. He yielded all the more that there was a special woman and Pani Bigiel, besides the doctor, who for a week had slept in their house, and who assured him now that for the time there was no reason to expect any turn for the worse.
But when he went out, he did as he did usually; that is, he sat in an armchair at the door, and began to listen to what was happening in the room. In this way the hours of night passed. At the least noise he sprang up; but when the noise ceased he sat down again and began to think hurriedly and chaotically, as people do over whom danger is hanging. But at times his thoughts pressed one another, grew confused from weariness, forming, as it were, a dense crowd in which he was wandering without power to know anything. Sleep also tortured him. He had uncommon strength; but for ten days he knew not how he lived. Only black coffee and feverishness kept him on his feet. He did not yield even then, though his head was as heavy as lead and the crowd of his thoughts changed, as it were, into a black cloud, without a clear spot. He merely repeated to himself yet that Marynia was sick and he ought not to fall asleep; but these words had not the least meaning for him now.
At last toil, exhaustion, and sleepless nights conquered. A stony invincible sleep seized him, — a sleep in which there was no dreaming, in which reality perished, in which the whole world perished, and in which life itself was benumbed.
He was only roused toward morning by a knocking at the door.
“Pan Stanislav!” called the smothered voice of Pani Bigiel.
He sprang to his feet, and, gaining consciousness that moment, ran out of that room. With one glance he took in Marynia’s bed; and at sight of the closed curtains his feet tottered under him.
“What has happened?” whispered he, with whitening lips.
But Pani Bigiel answered with a voice equally low, panting a trifle, —
“You have a son.”
And she put her finger on her lips.
CHAPTER LXV.
There were grievous days yet, and very grievous. Such weakness came on Marynia that her life began to quiver, like the flame of a taper. Would it quench, or would it flicker up again? At moments all were convinced that the flame was just, just dying. Still youth, and the relief brought by the coming of a child to the world, turned the scale on the life side. On a certain day the sick woman woke after long sleep, and seemed healthier. The old doctor in attendance, who witnessed the improvement, wished to convince himself more clearly that there was no deception, and asked to call in a physician with whom he had held counsel earlier. Pan Stanislav went to find him, and drove himself out of his mind almost while searching the city half a day for him; he did not dare hope yet that that turn in her sickness and in his misfortune was decisive. When at last he found the hunted doctor and brought him to the house, Pani Bigiel received him in the room adjoining the sick chamber, with moist eyelids, but with a glad face, and said, —
“She is better! decidedly better.”
The woman could not say more, for tears flowed from her eyes. Pan Stanislav grew pale from emotion; but she controlled her delight with an effort, and said, smiling through her tears, —
“She is fighting for food now. A while since she asked to have the child brought. She asked also why you did not come. But now she is fighting for food; and how she is fighting! Ah, praise be to God! Praise be to God!”
And in her excitement she threw her arms around Pan Stanislav; then he kissed her hand and did not take it from his mouth for a long time. He trembled in every limb in the struggle to repress his delight, and also the groans which had gathered in him through many days of dread and torture, and which sought to burst forth now in spite of every effort.
Meanwhile the doctors came to Marynia, and sat rather long at her bedside. When the consultation was over, and they appeared again, satisfaction was evident on their faces. After Pan Stanislav’s feverish inquiry, the doctor in regular attendance, an impetuous old man, with gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, and a golden heart in his breast, happy himself now, but greatly wearied, said, grumbling, —
“How is she? Go and thank God, — that is what!”
And Pan Stanislav went. Even had he been a man without belief, he would have gone at that moment, and thanked God with a heart swollen from tears and thankfulness, for having taken pity on him and let the wave return in the guise of pain and suffering, and not in the guise of death.
Later, when he had calmed himself, he went on tiptoe to his wife’s room, where Pani Bigiel was. Marynia was gazing straight ahead with gladsome eyes, and at the first glance it was evident that she was much better really. When she saw him, she said, —
“Ah, see, Stas — I am well!”
“Well, my love,” answered Pan Stanislav, quietly. It was not time yet for outbursts; therefore he sat down in silence near her bed. But after a while joy and great feeling for her overcame him so far that, bending down, he embraced with both hands her feet covered with the quilt, and, putting his face down to them, remained motionless.
And she, though very weak yet, smiled with satisfaction. She looked some time at him; then, just like a child which is happy because it is fondled, she said to Pani Bigiel, pointing with her transparent finger to that dark head nestled at her feet, —
“He loves me!”
Next day Marynia felt still stronger, and from that moment almost every hour brought improvement. At last that was not a gradual return to health, but a bloom, as it were, a sudden return of spring after winter, which astonished the doctor himself. Pan Stanislav wanted at moments to shout from the joy which was stifling him, as formerly sorrow had stifled. They kept Marynia in bed still, through excess of caution; but when her strength, her bloom, her wish for life, her humor, had returned, she began to call people to her, and say every evening that she would rise from her bed on the morrow. In one respect only the long illness and weakness had brought a change in her manner, which was to pass, however, with other traces of sickness. This was it, — she, who had been such a calm and wise woman formerly, had become for a certain time a kind of spoiled child, who insisted on various things frequently, and felt a real disappointment if they were refused. Pan Stanislav, in speaking with her, entered involuntarily into her tone, hence those “grimaces” were an occasion also of merriment.
Once she began to complain to him that Pani Bigiel would not give her red wine. Pani Bigiel explained that she gave as much as the doctor permitted, and must wait for permission to give more. Pan Stanislav set about comforting Marynia at once, speaking to her just as he used to speak formerly to Litka, —
“They will give the child wine, — they will give it! — the moment the doctor comes.”
To w
hich Marynia said, “Red!”
“But how red must it be!” answered Pan Stanislav; and then both began to laugh, and Pani Bigiel with them. As some time before, the fear of death and misfortune had hung over that room, so now it was lighted with frequent joy, as with sunlight. At times they fell into perfect humor, and grandfather Plavitski formed part of the company too on occasions. He, since the advent to the world of his grandson, had grown full of patriarchal, but kindly importance, which did not drive away merriment. It was varied, however, for at times a lofty and solemn manner gained the upper hand in him. On a certain day he brought his will, and forced all to listen to its paragraphs from beginning to end. In the touching words of the introduction he took farewell of life, of his daughter, of Pan Stanislav, and of his grandson, not sparing directions regarding the education of the latter into a good grandson, a good son, a good father, and a good citizen; then he made him heir of all he possessed. And in spite of the fact that since Mashko’s bankruptcy he possessed only as much as Pan Stanislav gave him, still he was moved by his own munificence and preserved all that evening the mien of a pelican, which nourishes its young with its own proper blood.
A person who returns to the world after a grievous illness passes anew through all the periods of childhood and first youth, with this difference only, — that that which formerly was counted by years is counted now by weeks, or even days. So it was with Marynia. Pam Bigiel, who at first called her “baby,” said, in laughing, that gradually “baby” had changed into a little girl, the little girl into a maiden. But the maiden began to find her feminine coquetry. Now, when they combed her hair, she insisted that they should place on her knees a small mirror, which she had received from her mother; and she looked into it carefully, to see if Pani Bigiel’s promise that “afterward she would be still more beautiful,” was being justified. On the first occasions the examinations did not satisfy her over-much, but afterwards more and more. At last she gave command one day to bring the mirror again, after her hair was dressed; and once more she made a thorough review of her complexion, her eyes, her mouth, her hair, her expression, — in a word, of everything which there was to look at. And the review must have turned out well, for she began to smile, and grow radiant; at last she turned toward Pan Stanislav’s chamber, threatening with her thin fist, and said, with a very aggressive mien, —
“But wait now, Pan Stas!”
In truth, she had never been so comely. Her complexion, always very pure, had become still clearer, and more lily-like than it was when Pan Ignas had lost his head, and rhymed from morning till evening about it. Besides, the first rosy dawn of health was shining on her cheeks. From her eyes, from her mouth, from her face, which had grown smaller after sickness, there shone a species of light, a rebirth into life, a spring. It was a wonderful head simply, full of bright and clear colors, and at the same time of delicate outline, — really exquisite, and, as Pan Ignas had expressed himself once, belonging to the field, so wonderful that at moments, when it was lying on the pillow, and on its own dark hair, it was not possible to look at it sufficiently. That so-called “Pan Stas,” who saw everything clearly, and who, according to the description of Bigiel, “could not move hand or foot from love,” did not need to “wait” at all. Not only did he love her now as a woman and one dear to him, but he felt for her gratitude beyond bounds because she had not died, and he showed his gratitude by striving to divine her thoughts. Marynia had not even imagined at any time that she would become to such a degree the motive of his life, the sight of his eye, the soul of his thought and activity. Never had it been disagreeable to them with each other; but now, with Marynia’s return to health, an unexampled happiness, an unexampled delight, came to their household.
And young Polanyetski, too, contributed actively. Marynia was not able to nourish him herself; and her husband, foreseeing this, got a nurse for his son. Wishing, moreover, to give the sick woman pleasure, he brought in an old acquaintance of hers in Kremen. She had served once with the Plavitskis; after their departure she happened in Yalbrykov, and there a misfortune befell her. It was never known strictly who the cause was; but if it was possible to reproach any of the greater proprietors with want of love for the people, it was not possible to reproach Pan Gantovski, for all Yalbrykov was full of proofs of how Gantovski loved the people. Even in the negotiations about peasant privileges of the co-residents of Yalbrykov, among other points raised was this, — that “the lord heir rides on a white horse, shoots from pistols, and looks into the girls’ eyes;” and if on the one hand it was not easy to see what particular connection the above habits of Gantovski had with the agreements about peasant privileges, it became perfectly clear on the other that, thanks to those habits, Pan Stanislav found with ease a nurse for his son in Yalbrykov.
But as that was a youthful, vigorous, and buxom Mazovian, the young man could only succeed in her care. In general, that little Polanyetski was a personage who, from the first moment of his arrival in the world, became more and more a lord in the house, not counting with any one, nor thinking of anything, save his own wants and pleasures. According to his method, in moments free from sleep and feasting, he occupied himself with noise-making, and the development of his little lungs, by means of a cry which was as piercing as his early age could attain. At such times he was brought frequently to Marynia. On those occasions endless sessions began, at which all his physical and mental traits were investigated minutely, as well as every striking resemblance to his life-givers. It was asserted that he had the nose of his mother, the remark of his nurse, that he had a nose like a cat, being rejected with remarkable unanimity; it was settled, also, that he would have an immensely interesting smile; that he would be dark, with brown hair; that he would be tall without fail; that he was very lively, and would have an astonishing memory. Pani Bigiel, while Marynia was lying in bed, made, also, on her own account, various discoveries, which she announced to all in general. Once she rushed into Marynia’s room with delight and haste worthy of every recognition, and said, —
“Imagine to thyself, he spread out his little fingers on one hand, and with the other thou wouldst swear that he was counting. He’ll be a mathematician, beyond doubt.”
And Marynia answered in all seriousness, —
“Then he’ll take after his father.”
Still she made a discovery earlier, even with reference to date, than all those of Pani Bigiel, — namely, that he was “a dear little love of a creature.” As to Pan Stanislav, at the first moment he looked at the new acquaintance with astonishment and a certain distrust. In his time he had wished greatly to have a daughter, with this reason chiefly, that, being in make-up of heart a great child-man, he imagined that he could give all the tenderness in him only to a girl. There was sticking in him, it is unknown why, an idea that a son would be some kind of a big lump of a fellow with mustaches almost, speaking in a bass voice, snorting somewhat like a horse, whom it would not be worth while to approach with tenderness, for he would hold it in contempt. Only gradually, after looking at this little figure sleeping on pillows, did he begin to reach the conviction that not only was that no big “lump of a boy,” but simply a poor little thing, deserving of tenderness, small, weak, defenceless, needing care and love as much as any little girl in the world. At last he said to himself, “So he is that kind of boy!” And thenceforth he became more and more tender toward the little thing; and after a few days he even tried to carry him to Marynia, which, however, he did with such an amount of purely superfluous caution, and also so awkwardly, that he brought to laughter, not only Marynia and Pani Bigiel, but, with a loss to his own dignity, even the nurse.
And laughter was heard now in the dwelling of the Polanyetskis from morning till evening. Both, waking in the morning, woke with that happy feeling that the day would bring them new delight. Bigiel, who, from the time that Marynia left her bed, was admitted in the evening with his violoncello, looking at their life, said once, after a moment of necessary meditation, “Misfortun
e may come to good people, as to every one; but when it is well for them, as God lives, it is better for no one else.”
And, in truth, life was pleasant for them. Marynia, according to what she had heard in her time from Pani Bigiel, and what she thought herself, judged that the cause of this new bloom of love in her husband was the child, which bound them by new bonds. One day she began even to speak of this to Pan Stanislav; but he answered with all simplicity, —
“No; I give thee my word! I love him in his way; but thee I loved already fabulously before he came to the world, for thyself, because thou art as thou art. Look around,” said he, “think what is going on in the world; and to whom can I compare thee?”
Then, taking her hands, he began to kiss them, not only with immense love, but also with the greatest respect, and added, —
“Thou wilt never know what thou art for me, and how I love thee.”
But, nestling up to him, she asked, with a face bright as the sun in heaven, —
“Indeed, Stas, shall I never know? Try to tell me.”
CHAPTER LXVI.
The christening came. Immediately after his arrival in the world, the young man had been baptized with water by Pani Bigiel, to whom, impressed by the sickness of the mother, it seemed that the little one might die any moment. But he had not even thought of that, and had waited, in the best of health and appetite, for the time of the solemnity, in which he was to play the leading part. Pan Stanislav had invited all his acquaintances. Besides people of the house, and grandfather Plavitski, there were Pani Emilia, who, for that day, had rallied the remnant of her strength, the Bigiels, with the little Bigiels, Professor Vaskovski, Svirski, Pan Ignas, and Panna Ratkovski. Pani Polanyetski, now in health, and happy, looked so enchanting that Svirski, gazing at her, caught his hair with both hands, and said, with his usual outspokenness, —
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 419
