Children of the Soil. Генрик Сенкевич

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СКАЧАТЬ Plavitski began to talk as if to himself. “Mashko, Mashko – he too was circling about Marynia. But she did not like him. As to estates, the price now is such that God pity us.”

      “Mashko is the man who declares that under such conditions it is well to buy them.”

      Dinner came to an end, and they passed into the drawing-room for coffee; while at coffee Pan Plavitski, as his wont was in moments of good-humor, began to make a butt of Gantovski. The young man endured patiently, out of regard for Marynia, but with a mien that seemed to say, “Ei! but for her, I would shake all the bones out of thee.” After coffee Marynia sat down at the piano, while her father was occupied with patience. She played not particularly well, but her clear and calm face was outlined pleasantly over the music-board. About five Pan Plavitski looked at the clock and said, —

      “The Yamishes are not coming.”

      “They will come yet,” answered Marynia.

      But from that moment on he looked continually at the clock, and announced every moment that the Yamishes would not come. At last, about six, he said with a sepulchral voice, —

      “Some misfortune must have happened.”

      Pan Stanislav at that moment was near Marynia, who in an undertone said, —

      “Here is a trouble! Nothing has happened, of course; but papa will be in bad humor till supper.”

      At first Pan Stanislav wished to answer that to make up he would be in good-humor to-morrow after sleeping; but, seeing genuine anxiety on the young lady’s face, he answered, —

      “As I remember, it is not very far; send some one to inquire what has happened.”

      “Why not send some one over there, papa?”

      But he answered with vexation, “Too much kindness; I will go myself;” and ringing for a servant, he ordered the horses, then stopping for a moment he said, —

      “Enfin, anything may happen in the country; some person might come and find my daughter alone. This is not a city. Besides, you are relatives. Thou, Gantovski, may be necessary for me, so have the kindness to come with me.”

      An expression of the greatest unwillingness and dissatisfaction was evident on the young man’s face. He stretched his hand to his yellow hair and said, —

      “Drawn up at the pond is a boat, which the gardener could not launch. I promised Panna Marynia to launch it; but last Sunday she would not let me, for rain was pouring, as if from a bucket.”

      “Then run and try. It is thirty yards to the pond; thou wilt be back in two minutes.”

      Gantovski went to the garden in spite of himself. Plavitski, without noticing his daughter or Pan Stanislav, repeated as he walked through the room, —

      “Neuralgia in the head; I would bet that it is neuralgia in the head; Gantovski in case of need could gallop for the doctor. That old mope, that councillor without a council, would not send for him surely.” And needing evidently to pour out his ill humor on some one, he added, turning to Pan Stanislav, “Thou’lt not believe what a booby that man is.”

      “Who?”

      “Yamish.”

      “But, papa!” interrupted Marynia.

      Plavitski did not let her finish, however, and said with increasing ill humor, “It does not please thee, I know, that she shows me a little friendship and attention. Read Pan Yamish’s articles on agriculture, do him homage, raise statues to him; but let me have my sympathies.”

      Here Pan Stanislav might admire the real sweetness of Marynia, who, instead of being impatient, ran to her father, and putting her forehead under his blackened mustaches, said, —

      “They will bring the horses right away, right away, right away! Maybe I ought to go; but let ugly father not be angry, for he will hurt himself.”

      Plavitski, who was really much attached to his daughter, kissed her on the forehead and said, “I know thou hast a good heart. But what is Gantovski doing?”

      And he called through the open gate of the garden to the young man, who returned soon, wearied out, and said, —

      “There is water in the boat, and it is drawn up too far; I have tried, and I cannot – ”

      “Then take thy cap and let’s be off, for I hear the horses have come.”

      A moment later the young people were alone.

      “Papa is accustomed to society a little more elegant than that in the country,” said Marynia; “therefore he likes Pani Yamish, but Pan Yamish is a very honorable and sensible man.”

      “I saw him in the church; to me he seemed as if crushed.”

      “Yes; for he is sickly, and besides has much care.”

      “Like you.”

      “No, Pan Yamish manages his work perfectly; besides, he writes much on agriculture. He is really the light of these parts. Such a worthy man! She too is a good woman, only to me she seems rather pretentious.”

      “An ex-beauty.”

      “Yes. And this unbroken country life, through which she has become rather rusty, increases her oddness. I think that in cities oddities of character and their ridiculous sides efface one another; but in the country, people turn into originals more easily, they grow disused to society gradually, a certain old-fashioned way is preserved in intercourse, and it goes to excess. We must all seem rusty to people from great cities, and somewhat ridiculous.”

      “Not all,” answered Pan Stanislav; “you, for example.”

      “It will come to me in time,” answered Marynia, with a smile.

      “Time may bring changes too.”

      “With us there is so little change, and that most frequently for the worse.”

      “But in the lives of young ladies in general changes are expected.”

      “I should wish first that papa and I might come to an agreement about Kremen.”

      “Then your father and Kremen are the main, the only objects in life for you?”

      “True. But I can help little, since I know little of anything.”

      “Your father, Kremen, and nothing more,” repeated Pan Stanislav.

      A moment of silence came, after which Marynia asked Pan Stanislav if he would go to the garden. They went, and soon found themselves at the edge of the pond. Pan Stanislav, who, while abroad, had been a member of various sporting clubs, pushed to the water’s edge the boat, which Gantovski could not manage; but it turned out that the boat was leaky, and that they could not row in it.

      “This is a case of my management,” said Marynia, laughing; “there is a leak everywhere. And I know not how to find an excuse, since the pond and the garden belong to me only. But before it is launched I will have the boat mended.”

      “As I live, it is the same boat in which I was forbidden to sail when a boy.”

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