In Vain. Генрик Сенкевич
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what object?"
"But how does that concern any one?"
"What kind of person is he?"
"His name is Augustinovich. He has a good head, but at this moment he is drunk, his words are confused. He knows, however, what he wants, and, as God lives, he is right."
"What does he want?"
"That we should not meet here in vain, that our meetings should have some object. But those present laugh at the object and the speech. Of necessity the change would bring dissension into the freedom and repose which thus far have reigned in these meetings."
"And what object does Augustinovich wish to give them?"
"Literary, scientific."
"That would be well."
"I have told him that he is right. If some one else were to make the proposal, the thing would pass, perhaps."
"Well, but in his case."
"On everything that he touches he leaves traces of his own ridiculousness and humiliation. Have a care, Yosef! Thou in truth art not like him in anything so far as I know, but here any man's feet may slip, if not in one, in another way."
Gustav looked with misty eyes on Augustinovich, shrugged his shoulders, and continued, —
"Fate fixed itself wonderfully on that man. I tell thee that he is a collection of all the capacities, but he has little character. He has lofty desires, but his deeds are insignificant, an eternal dissension. There is no balance between his desires and his strength, hence he attains no result."
A number of Yosef's acquaintances approached; at the glass conversation grew general. Yosef inquired about the University.
"Do all the students live together?"
"Impossible," answered one of the Lithuanians. "There are people here of all the most varied conceptions, hence there are various coteries."
"That is bad."
"Not true! I admit unity as to certain higher objects; the unity of life in common is impossible, so there is no use in striving for it."
"But the German Universities?"
"In those are societies which live in themselves only. A life of feelings and thoughts, at least among us, should agree with practice; therefore dissension in feelings and thoughts produces dissension in practice."
"Then will you never unite?"
"That, again, is something different. We shall unite in the interest of the University, or in that which concerns all. For that matter, I think that the contradictions which appear prove our vitality; they are a sign that we live, feel, and think. In that is our unity; that which separates unites us."
"Under what banner do you stand, then?"
"Labor and suffering. We have no distinguishing name. Those who are peasant enthusiasts call us 'baker's apprentices.'"
"How so?"
"According to facts. Life will teach thee what these mean. Each one of us tries to live where there is a bakery, to become acquainted with the baker, and gain credit with him. That is our method; he trusts us. The majority of us eat nothing warm, but a cake on credit thou wilt get as long as thou wishest."
"That is pleasant!"
"Besides our coterie, which is not united by very strong bonds, there are peasant enthusiasts. Antonevich organized and formed them. Rylski and Stempkovski led them for a time, but today these are all fools who know not what they want, they talk Little Russian and drink common vodka – that is the whole matter."
"And what other coteries are there?"
"Clearly outlined, there are no more; but there are various shades. Some are connected by a communion of scientific ideas, others by a common social standpoint. Thou wilt find here democrats, aristocrats, liberals, ultra-montanes, frolickers, women-hunters, idlers, if thou wish, and finally sunburnt laborers."
"Who passes for the strongest head?"
"Among students?"
"Yes."
"That depends on the branch. Some say that Augustinovich knows much; I will add that he does not know it well. For connected solid work and science Gustav is distinguished."
"Ah!"
"But they talk variously about him. Some cannot endure him. By living with him thou wilt estimate the man best, – for example, his relations with the widow. That is a sentimental bit of conduct; another man would not have acted as he has. Indeed, it is not easy to get on with her now."
"I have heard Gustav speak of her, but tell me once for all, what sort of woman is she?"
"She is a young person acquainted with all of us. Her history is a sad one. She fell in love with Potkanski, a jurist, and loved him perhaps madly. I do not remember those times – I remember Potkanski, however. He was a gifted fellow, very wealthy and industrious; in his day he was the idol of his comrades. How he came to know Helena, I cannot tell you; it is explained variously. This only is certain, that they loved each other to the death. She was not more than eighteen years of age. At last Potkanski determined to marry her. It is difficult to describe what his family did to prevent him, but Potkanski, an energetic man, stuck to his point, and married her despite every hindrance. Their married life lasted one year. He fell ill of typhoid on a sudden, and died leaving her on the street as it were, for his family seized all his property. A child which was living when he died, died also soon after. The widow was left alone, and had it not been for Gustav – well, she would have perished."
"What did Gustav do?"
"Gustav did wonders. With wretched means he prosecuted the Potkanskis. God knows whether he would have won the case, for that is a family of magnates, but he did this much: to avoid scandal, they engaged to pay the widow a slight life annuity."
"He acquitted himself bravely!"
"Of course he did, of course he did! Leave that to him! What energy! And remember it was during his first year at the University, without acquaintances, in a strange city, without means. And it is this way, my dear: a rich man can, a poor man must, help himself."
"But what obligation had he toward the widow?"
"He was Potkanski's friend, but that is still little; he loved her before she became Potkanski's wife, perhaps, but held aloof; now he makes no concealment."
"But she?"
"Oh, from the time of the misfortunes through which she passed the woman has fallen into utter torpor; she has become insane simply. She does not know what is happening to her, she is indifferent to everything. But beyond doubt thou wilt see her on this occasion, for she comes here every evening."
"And with what object?"
"I say that she is a maniac. The report is that she made the acquaintance of Potkanski here, so now she does not believe, it seems, that he is dead, and she goes around everywhere, as maniacs do usually. In fact, were he to rise from the dead, and not go to her straightway, she would surely find him here, nowhere else. We remind her, perhaps, of Potkanski; many students used to visit them."
"Does Gustav permit her to come here?"
"Potkanski never would have permitted her to come, but Gustav does not forbid her anything."
"How does she treat Gustav?"
"Like a table, a bench, a plate, or a ball of thread. She seems not to see him, but she does not avoid him, – she is always indifferent, apathetic. That must pain him, but it is his affair. – Ah! there she is! that woman coming in on the right."
When the widow entered, it grew somewhat silent. The appearance of that mysterious figure always produced an impression. Of stature a little more than medium, slender; she had a long face, bright blond hair, and dark eyes; her shoulders and bosom were rather slight, but she had the round plumpness of maiden forms; a forehead thrown back in a way scarcely discernible. She was pensive, and as dignified as if of marble. Her eyes, deeply set beneath her forehead, as it were in a shadow, were pencilled above with one delicate arch of brow. Those eyes were marvellous, steel-colored;