CHAPTER XVI
Helena hardly believed her own happiness. She was preparing for her marriage. Her clouded past had vanished, life's night was over, the morning was shining.
From a woman of a wandering star, who knew not where and how low she might fall, from a woman who was a beggar, from a woman without a morrow, to enter into a new period of life, to receive the affection of a man whom she loved, to become in the future a wife, to begin a calm life, a life which had a to-morrow, surrounded by respect, filled with love and duty,—that was her future.
Helena understood, or rather had a prescience of the abnormal relation between her past and her future. "From such a life as mine that ought not to come. I am not worthy of this happiness," whispered she to Yosef, when he placed the ring of betrothal on her finger. "I am not worthy of such happiness."
That half-insane woman possessed of love was right. Out of the logic of life such a future could not bloom, but her life had ceased already to move in its own proper orbit.
There are stars which circle in solitude along undefined orbits, till swept away by more powerful planets they go farther, either around them or with them.
Something similar had happened to Helena.
A stronger will had attracted a weaker. Helena met Yosef on her track, and thenceforward she travelled in his course.
The knowledge of this made her more peaceful. "Oh, if he wishes I shall be happy," thought she, more than once.
She had unbounded belief, not only in Yosef's character, but in his strength. So the last shadow vanished from her soul; alarm disappeared, that indefinite fear of the future which she could not dismiss till the moment of Yosef's declaration, this fear which tortured her like a reproach of conscience.
Her head was full of imaginings. With a song on her lips she made preparations for marriage, amusing herself like a child with every detail of dress. Notwithstanding her widowhood she wished to wear a white dress, which would also please Yosef. Regaining cheerfulness, she regained her health also; she was busy, active, even minutely painstaking with reference to future housekeeping.
She grew more beautiful and more noble-looking under the influence of happiness. From being a misanthropic woman, a bird with plucked wings, she was changing into a woman who felt her own worth, even in this, that some one loved her.
The date of the marriage was approaching.
Meanwhile the time in which Yosef was to become a doctor was drawing near. He toiled, therefore, and toiled so intensely that his health tottered. Sleepless nights and mental effort marked his face with pallor; he grew thin, blue under the eyes; he lived in continual feverish labor, in reality he was losing his strength, but he kept on his feet as best he could, wishing at any price to win absolutely both position and an independent future.
Besides ambition and the approaching date of his marriage, one other thing urged him to those efforts: the supply of money which he had brought from home had been gradually diminishing, and at present was almost exhausted. Now the burden of expenses and housekeeping fell on Augustinovich. Augustinovich had given up drinking and earned more than Yosef. Music lessons brought him in very much relatively, and he did not need to renounce them because of the pressure of other work, for with him natural gifts took the place of time and toil, even more than was needed.
He went to Pani Visberg's daily, as before. Malinka ran out every evening to open the door to him, and every evening she snatched away her hands, which he had the habit of covering with numerous kisses. The honest girl grew attached to Pan Adam. Did he love her? Rather no than yes, for the past had quenched in him the powers of sympathy. In reality he had not fire to the value of a copper. If passion had given heat to his powers, they would have carried him far, but the light from them was like moonlight, it gave light without heat.
That, however, did not hinder him from being, as they say, a capital fellow, a perfect comrade, and a pleasant companion. If he felt any attachment, it was for Yosef. But he had his likes and dislikes; he liked Malinka, but he did not like Lula.
And why did he not like her? There were various reasons. She met him always with cool loftiness, and besides she was a countess. Usually he had success with women; he owed it to his inexhaustible joyousness, and even to his cynicism, which made him as if at home everywhere. He had, moreover, a most particular power of adapting himself to that society in which he chanced to be. Never refined, he possessed (when he wished) high social polish. He used to say of himself that in him ease of distinction was inherited, since it came "from worthy blood." He had never known his parents, it is true, nor known who they were. He had the hypothesis, even, that, according to the well-known jest, Letitia the grandmother of Napoleon III. and his grandmother were grandmothers; he proved in this way his relationship with the Buonapartes.
Notwithstanding these characteristics, Lula ignored him somewhat. Yosef's solid, simple character roused a deeper interest in her than the frivolous, elastic nature of Augustinovich. Besides, she loved Yosef. So, by the nature of things, Augustinovich remained at one side. That annoyed him. This was the state of things when Pelski appeared. Especially from the time when Yosef ceased to pay visits, Lula had changed uncommonly. Augustinovich annoyed her, for he judged things through the prism of his particular repugnance to her. He thought that then, if ever, she would show him dislike and even contempt; meanwhile it came out otherwise. Lula left her rôle of indifference and began to fear him.
"Thanks to the gods," thought Augustinovich, "a man's tongue is nimble enough, it seems. She is afraid that I shall make a fool of Pelski."
In fact, something of the kind happened a number of times,—a thing which it must be confessed touched Lula very disagreeably.
At first Lula asked, time after time, about Yosef, but received the same answer always, "He is working." At last she ceased asking. Still it seemed that she wished to win over Augustinovich. In her treatment of him there was now a certain mildness joined with a silent melancholy. Often she followed him uneasily with her eyes when he came in, as if waiting for some news.
This alarm was natural. Whether she loved Yosef or not, it could not but astonish her that he on whom she had counted so much, who had shown her so much sympathy always, had now forgotten her. She could not rest satisfied, either, with the answers of Augustinovich.
In spite of the greatest labor it was impossible that Yosef should not find in the course of more than two months one moment of time, even, to look in at her, to inquire about her health, all the more since she knew that he loved her. In this thought the coming of Pelski was connected in her mind wonderfully with the absence of Yosef. She supposed, justly, that there was a certain connection between them. Augustinovich alone could explain these things, but he did not wish to do so.
Alarmed, then irritated and troubled, attracted by Pelski to regions of brilliant dreams, and a splendid future of wealth, comfort, servants, and carriages, on the one side, on the other she rushed in mind to the modest lodgings of Yosef, inquiring anxiously why he did not come.
But he did not come. Pelski appeared every day more definitely as a rival. Lula, blaming Yosef for indifference, annoyed and humiliated by this, was willing, even through revenge, to give her hand to Pelski. Moreover, tradition attracted her in that direction. Who had the power, who ought to gain the victory, it was easy to foresee.
Pelski, in so far as he was able, strove to scatter the clouds from Lula's forehead, and frequently he succeeded in doing so. From time to time Lula had wonderful accesses of joyousness. She laughed then, and scattered more or less witty words by thousands; and though there was a kind of fever in this gladness, there was no little coquetry also. Her eyes flashed on such occasions, from her temples there was a burning atmosphere. Her lips played with an alluring smile; her words wounded and fondled, attracted and repulsed in turn. Pelski generally, and after a few unfortunate trials with Augustinovich, Pelski alone, fell a victim to these freaks. He lost his head then, and from the role of cousin protector he passed to that of a cousin captive.
And the more humble he became, the more insolent grew Lula; the sadder he was, the gladder was she.
"Panna Malinka," whispered Augustinovich, on such occasions, "never be like her; she is a coquette."
"She is not," answered Malinka, sadly. "I will remind you of these words."
It is difficult to say what Augustinovich would have thought after such an evening, had he seen that woman, who a moment before was coquettish, left alone in her chamber, where she sobbed so that long, long hours could not quiet her.
The poor girl, she could not even confess her suffering to any one, and the grievous battle which she was fighting all alone with herself. She wept in moments of weakness. How much wounded self-love was there in those tears, how much sincere love for Yosef, it is difficult to tell. Formerly she would have put her arms around the neck of the kind Malinka, and confessed all that oppressed her soul, but now even Malinka was a stranger to her, or at least was not so near as formerly. Just those unsuccessful attempts to coquet with Augustinovich had wounded deeply that maiden, who was in love with him; and besides the relations of Lula with Pelski seemed very odd to her.
Meanwhile time passed. Lula began to doubt whether Yosef had ever loved her. Pelski imperceptibly fed her with the thought of future comfort. Time flowed on, and Time, according to the words of the poet, "is the odious guardian of blooming roses."