"If it is Miss Hilst you mean, she is too big to find room in a single heart; it wants three at least to hold her," but Aniela did not leave off teasing, and shaking her little finger at me, said:—
"It is a suspicious case, very suspicious."
"At present there is no ground for suspicion," I replied. "My heart is a repository of brotherly feelings, and there reigns supreme the spiteful little being who is tormenting me at present."
Aniela ceased laughing and jesting, slackened her pace, and presently we joined the elder ladies. The remainder of the day passed without a cloud, and so pleasantly that at times I fancied myself again a schoolboy. My eyes still spoke to her of love; but my desires slept. My aunt went to Warsaw after lunch, and I remained in Pani Celina's room, reading to her Montalembert's letters, with whom my father at one time had a regular correspondence. These letters would have seemed very tedious to me but for Aniela's presence. Raising my eyes now and then, I met her glance, which filled me with inexpressible joy. Unless I have lost all power of judgment, she looks at me as would look a pure, innocent woman, unconsciously loving with all her soul. What a good day it has been!
My aunt came back towards evening, and announced visitors. To-morrow both the Sniatynskis are coming, and Clara Hilst.
It is very late, but I do not want to sleep, for I am loathe to part with the memories of the day. Sleep cannot be more beautiful. The park is literally alive with the song of the nightingales, and there is still in me a great deal of the old romanticist. The night is clear and limpid, and the sky full of stars. Thinking of Aniela, I say a hundred times good-night to her. I see that side by side with the improductivité Slave, there is in me a great deal of purely Polish sentimentality. I had not known myself in that capacity before. But what does it matter? I love her very much.
13 May.
Clara and the Sniatynskis have not arrived. Instead of this, there came a letter, informing us they would come to-morrow, the weather permitting. To-day we had a thunder-storm, the like of which they have not experienced here for a long time. About ten o'clock in the morning a hot wind rose, which smothered everything in clouds of dust. The wind fell at times, and then rose again with such fury that it seemed to lay the trees flat. Our beautiful park was filled with the sound of crashing branches, and clouds of dust mingled with torn-off leaves and twigs. The great lime-tree close to the pavilion, where young Latysz died, was split in two. It was fear-fully close, there was no air, and the wind seemed to come straight from a heated furnace, and carried with it a breath of carbon. I, used to the Italian scirocco, did not mind it so much, but Pani Celina suffered greatly, and indirectly, Aniela. My aunt was in a bad temper about the damage done to the park, and as usual, vented it on Chwastowski. The peppery old gentleman, who probably was caned often enough over his Homer, had evidently not forgotten the Odyssey, nor his ready speech either, for he replied to my aunt that if he were Æolus he would not serve her as agent, and bear with her unjust tantrums. My aunt gave way this time, merely because of the redoubled threats from the skies. It had grown very still all at once, but from the south, banks of cloud, black as a funereal pall, overcast with a sickly red sheen, came rolling up. In a moment it grew as dark as night, and Pani Celina rung for lights. Shortly afterwards the darkness yielded to an ominous reddish light. Chwastowski rushed off in a hurry to give orders for the cattle to be driven home, but the cow-herds had started without waiting for orders, for presently we heard distinctly the mournful lowing of the cattle. Then my aunt fetched the bell of Our Lady of Loreto, and went around the house ringing energetically. I did not even try to explain to her that ringing a bell in that motionless atmosphere might rather attract than avert a thunderbolt, and in spite of the consciousness that in case of danger I could not be of the slightest help, I was ashamed to let her risk the danger alone. The old lady was simply magnificent when, with her head thrown back, she seemed to defy the black and copper-colored banks of clouds, and shook at them her Loreto bell. I did not regret having gone with her, if only to see a symbolic picture. At a moment when everything trembles before the approaching horror, crouches in terror almost stupefied, faith alone has no fear; it defies, and rings a bell. This is, from whatever side we look at it, an element of incalculable power in the human soul.
We returned when the first thunder began to growl all around the horizon. A few minutes later the roar became incessant. I had a sensation as if the thunder rolled on the lower stratum of the clouds, and the whole mass would burst at any moment and come with a deafening crash upon the earth. A thunderbolt fell into the pond at the other end of the park, followed by another so close by that the house shook on its foundations. My ladies began to say the Litany; I felt uncertain what to do; if I joined them it would be hypocrisy on my part, and if I did not it would look as if I were showing myself off as an ill-bred wiseacre, who cannot make allowance for country customs and female terrors. But I was wrong; they were not afraid; their faces were calm, even serene. It was evident that the familiar Litany was to them a sufficient armor against all dangers, and that there was no fear in their hearts. The thought crossed my mind what a stranger in spirit I was in presence of these Polish women, of whom each knows ten times less than I, and according to human measure, is worth ten times as much as I. They are like books of comparatively few pages, each page containing clear and simple rules, whereas I, with all those volumes of which I am composed, do not possess a single undoubted truth.
It was but a passing thought, as presently the storm that broke upon us with terrific force engaged all my attention. The wind rose again, crashing among the trees. It fell at moments, and then the rain came down in streams; no drops were visible, but long spouts that seemed to join sky and earth. The avenues in the park were like foaming brooks. Sometimes a strong gust of wind whipped the water into a fine spray that hung between earth and sky and obscured the whole view. The deafening roar of thunder went on incessantly. The air was saturated with electricity. My pulses were beating loudly; in the rooms an irritating smell of sulphur made itself felt. The raging elements without seemed to influence me in a strange way, and I began to lose control over myself.