The Argonauts

E >> Eliza Orzeszko (AKA Orzeszkowa) >> The Argonauts

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

"Why? There are too many portraits of me already. Oh, too many!"

"Caricatures!" exclaimed Maryan, "and none of them is mine. I beg
a portrait for myself specially; my own exclusive property."

"What for?" repeated Malvina. "Look at the original as often as
you like. Better not have a portrait; then, perhaps, you will
feel the need of seeing me oftener."

"No reproaches, dear mother! Leave reproaches, threats; let the
whole patriarchal arsenal remain on that side, over there--"

With a gesture he indicated the door leading to the interior of
the house.

Cara raised her head from her mother's knees, and her eyes
glittered.

"But on this side let there be only sweetness, only charm, only
that precious, beautiful weakness, before which I am on my knees
always. As to this, that I can see the original of the portrait
when I wish, that is a question! We are grains of sand scattered
over the world by the wind of interesting voyages."

"Have you some plan of a journey again?" inquired Malvina,
alarmed.

"Yes. It is in indistinct lines yet, but is becoming more
definite every day. This will be the step of a giant--fleeing
before that rod with which the all-mighty father is pleased to
beat his children."

Again, with a gesture he pointed to the door leading to the more
distant apartments, and in the short laugh which accompanied his
last words there was sarcasm--almost hatred. At the same moment
he met Cara's eyes, and asked:

"Why look at me, little one, in that way? There are eyes!
curious, anxious, and as frightened as those of a hunted deer.
Why so curious? What do you fear?"

Cara hid her face in her mother's dress, quickly.

"But how would it please you, mamma, to make a trip with me to
America?" called Irene from before the mirror.

She put up the last of her hair, fastened it with a fantastic
pin, and said, turning toward her mother:

"I have such Tom Thumb boots that when I put them on I shall be
beyond the sea with three great steps. How does that plan please
you?"

"You give a shower of plans to-day," jested Malvina.

"A portrait, flight from the rod, America."

"A ball!" exclaimed Cara, raising her head. "Do you know of it,
Maryan? In a few weeks we shall have a real ball--a grand one."

"Your tale is curious, little one, tell on," answered Maryan.
"When talk is the question, there is never need to beg Cara
twice."

She sprang up from her knees and told of the hour which she had
spent in her father's study a few days before. She had told her
mother and sister of the plan of the ball, but how it rose she
had not told. Something had prevented. Now she would tell them
all. Three gentlemen had visited her father: Prince Zeno, Count
Charski, and a third person whose name she did not remember, but
he was a large man, tall and broad; his breast glittered with
stars and crosses. She, Cara, wished to hide from the guests
behind the bookshelves--there were shelves behind which she sat
often, invisible herself, she saw and heard everything. It was a
wonderfully comfortable hiding-place, in which her only trouble
was Puff; for, when anyone came to the study he wanted to bark,
but she squeezed his nose with her hand tightly, and he was
silent. That day she did not go behind the book-shelves, for her
father commanded her to sit in the armchair. So she sat there
with dignity.

Now she sat on the stool, and showed them in what a posture she
had sat in presence of her father's guests, her hands on her
knees, bolt upright, with dignity on her rosy face. Puffie alone
interrupted this dignity, she said; he crawled up behind her, put
his paws on her shoulder, and touched her with his moist nose.
One of the gentlemen turned then to her, and said:

"You have a beautiful dog, young lady."

"He is very nice," answered she.

"And what is his name?" asked the man.

"Puffie," explained she.

She did not laugh, for there was no cause. Puffie was really very
nice, and he had a good name, but those gentlemen, while looking
at her, smiled very agreeably, and one of them said to her
father:

"How time passes! Not long ago I saw your younger daughter a
little child, and now--"

The other interrupted: "She is almost grown. And as tall it seems
as her elder sister."

"We have only very rarely the pleasure of seeing your family in
society this winter," said the other.

"Your wife and daughter pass a very secluded life this year,"
said the second visitor.

"My wife complains of frequent neuralgia," answered father, and
then the unknown, large man talked.

Hitherto Cara, while giving the conversation of the two
gentlemen, changed her voice, imitating the tones, and posture of
each; now she repeated the words of the large man in the rudest
voice that she could command:

"I have not yet had the honor of being presented to your wife and
elder daughter, but I have heard so much, etc."

Then they talked longer with her father about something else, and
when going away gave her some nice compliments. She courtesied.
She might say with confidence that she had played the role of a
mature young lady brilliantly. Her father said, after the
departure of the guests, that he was glad to receive the large
man's visit. The large man might aid him greatly. Then he thought
a while, and said:

"Do you know what, little one, you must show yourself in
society."

Here Maryan muttered in an undertone:

"He needs a new column in his temple."

Irene smiled. Malvina feigned not to hear; Cara, given up to her
twittering, twittered on:

"Then father said that mamma and Ira were leading almost the life
of a cloister, that they received few persons, and went out
little. That had the appearance of domestic misfortune, or of
bankruptcy. Such an appearance was ugly in general, and harmful
to business. To avoid this there was need to arrange a reception,
but grand, and as splendid as possible. The carnival would be
over soon, and at the end of the carnival we would give a ball in
which the 'little one 'would appear in society for the first
time. Today, an hour ago, father said he would come to us at
dinner, and would talk at length about this ball with mamma."

Here Cara finished the narrative which was somewhat of a dramatic
representation. Maryan rose suddenly from his seat.

"I must go," said he, standing rigidly, and with a serious face.

"Stay, Maryan," said Malvina, in a low voice.

On her face was a look of pain; a deep wrinkle appeared on her
forehead; her voice was imploring. Maryan looked at her,
hesitated a while, then dropping into an armchair with the
movement of an automaton, muttered:

"Let thy will be done! Let a pot be painted with the color of a
son's love--for you, mother."

From the thought that he must meet his father soon, the interior
of his heart began to desiccate.

A servant announced the dinner. Cara sprang up from the stool:

"I will go to conduct father!"

She went to the door, but turned back from it, and, dropping on
her knees before her mother, put a number of long, passionate
kisses on her knees and her hand. Then hanging on her neck, she
whispered in a low voice:

"Golden, only, dearest mamma." And springing from her knees she
flew out of the room like a bird.

What did that violent outburst of tenderness for her mother mean?
No one knew, neither did she herself, perhaps. Was it a prayer
for someone, or the assurance that she loved greatly not only
that one, but her mother too? or was it delight that at last she
would see them both together? She flew like a bird through the
drawing-rooms, lighted by lamps burning here and there, till she
pushed quietly into her father's study, and put her hand under
his arm at the writing-desk. All rosy, imitating the deep and
solemn voice of the servant, she said:

"Dinner is served!"

Darvid felt a stream of warmth and sweetness flowing to his
breast.

"Oh, you rogue!" said he, "you sunray! You little one!"

When he was entering the dining-room soon after with Cara, Maryan
led in his mother through the opposite door; she was all in black
silk and jet.

Darvid inclined and touched his wife's hand with his lips; on
Malvina's face there was a pleasant smile.

"I am so immensely occupied," said he, "that I have not time
every day to inquire after your health."

"I thank you, my health is excellent."

At a rich side-table two servants were occupied; at the table
gleaming with crystal and silver stood Miss Mary, graceful and
still young, with puritanic simplicity in her closely fitting
garment, and with smooth hair over her calm forehead. The master
of the house greeted her and expressed his regret that, because
of business, he could see her only rarely. When all were seated
at table, Malvina, with the experience of a trained lady of the
house, began conversation:

"We have been talking just now of the United States, with which
Ira and Maryan have begun to be greatly interested."

"No doubt because of the exhibition at Chicago," said Darvid; "it
must be something colossal indeed."

Miss Mary mentioned the congress of women which was to meet
there. Malvina and Irene supplemented that statement with
details; the conversation flowed on smoothly, easily, coolly; it
was filled with various kinds of information. Maryan took no part
in it. He sat stiff, deaf, dumb, with fixed features. When he
ate, his movements had the appearance of an automaton, even his
eyelids winked very rarely. He was a picture of apathy, contempt,
and biliousness. Even his fair complexion had grown sallow, and
his lips had paled. He caused exactly the impression of a wax
doll in an elegant dress, with glittering eyes.

Darvid, with some humor and playfully, spoke of the edifice which
was to be erected in Chicago according to a plan by a female
architect.

"I tremble for those who are to visit the building. In
architecture, equilibrium has immense meaning, and for women
equilibrium is most difficult. Women lose equilibrium so easily,
so generally, so inevitably, almost."

This was said in a manner quite airy and trifling; still--it was
unknown why--in the voice of the speaker certain biting tones
quivered, and a pale flush came out on Malvina's forehead. Irene
fell at once to talking most vivaciously with Miss Mary about the
latest movement among English women toward emancipation, and
Darvid himself, with some haste, expressed quietly, though with
some irony, opinions touching these movements.

A great bronze lamp cast abundant light on the table, which was
covered with the brightness of silver and crystal. White-gloved
servants, as silent as apparitions, changed the plates adorned
with painted and gilded monograms; with bottles in their hands
they inquired about the kind of wine which they were to pour out;
they served dishes from which came the excellent odor of
truffles, pickles, rare meat, and vegetables. A number of
wall-lamps, placed high, lighted the sides of the dining-hall,
which was decked with pictures in brightly shining frames, and
with festoons of heavy curtains at the doors and windows. When it
left America, the conversation, carried on in French and English,
turned to European capitals and to the various phenomena of life
in them. English was spoken out of regard for Miss Mary, but
French sometimes, for Darvid and his wife preferred that language
to English. Irene and Cara might have been considered as genuine
English. The ready and accurate English; the pure Parisian
French; the varied information, in an atmosphere of light falling
from above on a table glittering with costly plate; the order and
the dignified ornaments of the great hall; the grand scale of
living seemed undoubted high life. There was a moment in which
Darvid cast his glance around and threw back his head somewhat;
his forehead freed itself from wrinkles--smooth, clever, shining
somewhat at the temples--it seemed to be carved out of ivory. His
nostrils, delicate and nervous, expanded and contracted, as if
inhaling, with the odor of wines and delicacies, the more subtle
and intoxicating odor of his own greatness. But this lasted only
a short time; soon certain pebbles of seriousness and breaths of
distraction began to interrupt his conversation and to dull his
clear thought. Balancing in two fingers a dessert knife, he said
to Miss Mary:

"I respect your countrymen greatly for their practical sense and
sound reason. That's a people--that's a people--"

He stammered somewhat now--a thing which, in his low and fluent
speech, never happened. He was thinking of something else.

"That is the nation which said to itself: 'Time is money,' which
also--"

Again he faltered. His eyes, attracted by an invincible power,
turned continually toward that point of the table where black
jets glittered richly and gloomily, and then his lips finished
the judgment which he had begun:

"Which also possesses to-day the greatest money-power."

Here Maryan spoke for the first time:

"Not only money; England now leads the newest tendencies in art."

This was spoken at the edges of his lips, without cooperation of
other parts of his face, which continued fixed; and on Darvid's
lips appeared his smile, of which people said that it bristled
with pins.

"The newest tendencies of art!" repeated he, and the words hissed
in his mouth somewhat. "Art is something splendid, but the pity
is that it is turned into a plaything by wrongly reared
children!"

Maryan raised at his father a look from which a whole flood of
irony rushed forth, and answered, with the edge of his lips:

"He alone is not a child who knows that we are all children,
turning everything into playthings for ourselves. The point is
that there are various playthings."

"Maryan!" whispered Malvina, with an alarm which she could not
suppress.

Darvid turned his face to her suddenly, and their glances which
till then had avoided each other carefully, met for a few
seconds; but during that time Darvid's eyes filled with the
glitter of keen steel, and Malvina bent her face so low over the
plate that, in the sharp light, one could see only her forehead,
with its one deep wrinkle. But that same moment Irene began to
converse with her father about London, where he had spent a
considerable time on two occasions. He answered her at once;
spoke long, fluently, and interestingly, engaging also in the
conversation Miss Mary, to whom he turned frequently and with
pleasure.

Again the conversation went on smoothly, easily, deliberately.
Above the table, in place of the odors of meats and sauces,
hovered the light odors of fruit and vanilla. When the dessert
was served, Darvid spoke of fruits peculiar to various climates
which he had visited in his almost ceaseless journeys; all at
once he stopped the conversation in mid-career, and turned to
Cara, who struggled a few times with a dry and stubborn cough.

"I thought that you had recovered entirely. But you are coughing
yet. That is sad!"

On the girl's face, which was flushing in a fiery manner, there
was an expression of sorrow or anger. Quickly and broken came the
words from her lips which were pouting like those of an angry
child:

"There are so many sad things in the world, father, that my cough
is a bit of dust compared with them."

This was an answer thoroughly unexpected, but the impression
which it might have made was hindered at once by Irene through a
laugh and an exclamation too loud, perhaps:

"See where pessimism is going to fix itself! Is Puffie sick?"

"Cara's remark is precocious but pointed," said Maryan, with the
edges of his lips.

Malvina, too, began to speak. Giving a small cup to her son, she
inquired:

"You like black coffee so well that I ought to reserve another
cup, ought I not?"

Maryan made no answer; with a wrinkle on her forehead, and a
smile on her lips, she continued quickly and hurriedly:

"I share your taste for coffee, Maryan. Some time ago I drank
much coffee, but I saw that it injured my nerves and deprived me
of sleep. It is very disagreeable not to sleep, and better to
give up a favorite luxury than suffer from insomnia."

Smiling and moving her head she talked, and talked on with great
charm, and with a sweetness which always filled the tones of her
voice. She mentioned mere nothings, connecting opinion with
opinion, just to talk, to kill time, or avoid other topics.
Darvid raised his head somewhat and looked at her through the
glasses with which he had shaded his eyes until she bent her head
before the gleam in those glasses, and her face sank very low
over the cup, and was covered with an expression not to be hidden
by a woman who wants to vanish through the earth, dissolve in
air, become a shade, become dust, become a corpse; if she can
only escape from where she is and from being what she is. Then
Irene, with a light tap, dropping her cup on the saucer, began:

"You must know well, father, how they make coffee in the Orient?"

He knew, for he had been in the Orient; and, in a way which was
picturesque enough, he told about the Turks; how, sitting around
in a circle, they put the favorite drink into their mouths
slowly.

"They delight themselves with it, as dignified as Magi, and
silent as fish. The time in which they give themselves to this
absolute rest, composed of black coffee and silence, bears with
them the name 'keif.'"

This word called laughter to the lips of all. Darvid laughed,
too. On all faces weariness grew evident. Cara's thin voice
called out:

"The Turks do well to be silent, for what good is there in
people's talk? What good is there?"

"Here is a little sage, she is never satisfied with questions,"
said Darvid, jestingly.

"Capacity for criticism is a family trait of ours," laughed
Irene.

"Cara had been distinguished by curiosity from childhood," added
Malvina, with a smile.

Even Maryan, looking at his younger sister, said:

"The time always comes when children begin to speak instead of
prattling."

Miss Mary, with an anxious forehead under her puritan hair, said
nothing.

On the faces of all who spoke, anxiety was evident, and above the
smiling lips weariness was present in every eye.

Malvina rose from her chair; Darvid left his place, bowed to all
with exquisite politeness, and, advancing some steps, gave his
arm to his wife.

They passed through a small, brightly lighted drawing-room and
halted in the following chamber, where the walls were adorned
with white garlands and the curtains and upholstering were of
blue watered-silk. Beyond, in a small drawing-room. Miss Mary sat
down to play chess with Maryan; Cara took her place near them in
the character of observer, and Irene unrolled in the lamp-light a
piece of church stuff, very old and time-worn, which the baron
had brought her as a rarity, and which she intended to repair by
embroidering it with silk and gold thread.

Darvid and Malvina stopped among the pieces of blue furniture in
the tempered light of a shade-covered lamp. Malvina was very
pale, and her heart must have beaten with violence, for her
breath was hurried. At last that had come which she had waited
for long and vainly: a positive and decisive conversation.

With all her strength she desired an explanation, a change of
some kind, and in any shape, if it would only bring a change in
her position. She was waiting, ready to yield to everything, to
endure everything, if he would only speak. He spoke, and said:

"To-morrow I shall go to a hunt on the estate of Prince Zeno, and
as I go from there to a place where I have business, I shall
return in ten days, more or less. Immediately after my return,
and during the last week of the Carnival, there will be in our
house a reception, a ball simply, the most brilliant possible. My
business requires it, and public opinion concerning this family
requires it also. I wish, too, that Cara should make her first
appearance in society at that ball. I have drawn up, and will
send you a list of persons to whom it is necessary to send
invitations, persons of whom you might not have thought; the rest
of society you know better than I do. I know that you can arrange
such matters excellently, and I trust that this time you will do
all that is best. The check-book will be brought you by my
secretary, whose abilities and time you may use without limit, as
well as the check-book. There is no need to hesitate at outlay;
everything should be in a style rarely seen in any house, or
rather in a style never seen except in this house. This ball is
needed for my business and for--public opinion concerning our
family, which opinion is a little, even more than a little,
lowered."

He spoke slowly and politely, with an accent of command at the
basis of the politeness. At the last words he cast into her face
a gleam of his eyes which was firm and penetrating, then he
bowed, and made a move to go.

"Aloysius!" cried Malvina, with tightly clasped hands, and she
began to tremble. How was this? A ball, and nothing more! The
question with her was of things as important as human dignity,
conscience, unendurable restraint, and fear in the presence of
her children.

He stopped and inquired:

"What is your command?"

She bowed her head and began:

"I require; I wish to speak with you at length and positively."

He smiled.

"For what purpose? We have nothing pleasant to say to each other,
and unpleasant conversation injures the nerves more than--black
coffee."

She raised her head, and with an effort, to which she brought
herself with difficulty, said:

"Things cannot remain as they are. My position--"

With an expression of profoundest astonishment on his face, he
interrupted:

"Your position! But your position is brilliant!"

He made a gesture which seemed to indicate everything which was
in that drawing-room, and in the whole house; but she blushed
deeply, and like one in whom the sensitive place is touched,
exclaimed:

"But this is just what--what I do not wish any longer. I have the
right to desire to be free, to withdraw, to cast from myself this
glitter, and go somewhere."

With all her strength she struggled against the tears which were
overpowering her. He repeated with the profoundest astonishment:

"You do not wish? You have the right?"

Everything in him--cheeks, wrinkles on his forehead, pale
lips--trembled with excitement now beyond restraint. But he was
master of his voice yet. He spoke in low tones, but with a hiss:

"What right? You have no right! You have lost every right! You do
not wish? You have no right to wish, or not to wish. You must
live as it happens you, and as is needed. As to conversations and
serious theatrical scenes, I want none of them--I, who have not
lost the right to wish. I am silent, and I will enforce silence.
That is, and will always be, our modus vivendi, which, moreover,
should be for you the easiest thing in the world to preserve. You
have everything: a high position, luxury, brilliancy, even the
love of your children as it seems. You have everything
except--except--"

He hesitated. His habit of preserving in all cases correctness of
form, struggled with the excitement which had overcome him, and
these words hissed through his lips in a low though envenomed
voice:

"Except--the lover whom you have dismissed, on which deed I
congratulate you, and--my respect, which you have lost, but
without which you must live on to the end. On this subject we are
talking now for the first and last time. We are talking too long.
I am in a hurry to my work. I wish you good-night."

The bow which he made before his wife might seem from a distance
full of friendly kindness; he withdrew with perfect calmness and
freedom of manner, still Irene went to her mother with a firm
though hurried step, and with the piece of ancient stuff in her
hand, she said:

"I am sure that without your assistance I shall not be equal to
my task. To restore this Middle Age wonder requires taste, an
eye, shading of colors; all this is beyond my poor ability."

She stood before her mother, and among the large flowers on the
cloth, which was changing from silver to sapphire, she indicated
certain defects produced by time. Her eyelids blinked with
marvellous quickness, and therefore, perhaps, she did not notice
her mother's chalky pallor, trembling hands, and despairing
expression of eyes. Apparently noticing nothing she spoke in a
loud voice and joyously:

"You have an ocean of various silks left after so many things
which we made in company. Let us search among them. Shall we go?
They are in your chamber. Come, mamma! I am so impatient to begin
the restoration of this beautiful ruin! You will help me to match
the silks, will you not? Oh, how many beautiful things you and I
have made together with these four hands of ours, which were
always in company."

And they were in company then. She thrust her hand under her
mother's arm, and holding the strip of silver and azure stuff she
escorted the very pale woman in black jets through the
brilliantly lighted drawing-room, past the chess-table at which
were sitting three persons, through the dining-hall, where
servants were hurrying, through her mother's study, in which both
had passed most hours of their life, till she came to Malvina's
bedroom, where, amid the yellow damask furniture a shaded lamp
was burning. In the twinkle of an eye Irene drew the brass
door-bolt, and with face turned toward her mother, with cheeks
which flushed immediately, she took Malvina's two hands in her
own.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20