Children of the Soil

ad been twice in that village, when his mother, a distant relative of the present owner of Kremen, was taking him home for vacation. Pan St

ow, changing the whole region about into a shoreless lake, as

ilent, landrails were heard playing in the dew; and at times, from afar, from muddy pond

ious year from abroad, where he had spent his first youth and had become engaged afterward in mercantile matters. Now, while entering that sleeping village, he recalled his

greatly, seemed ready to fall. Pan Stanislav remembered it because in his time under that mound had been buried a man fo

oon, and the roofs appeared silvery and blue. Some cottages were washed with lime and seemed bright green; others, hidden in plum orchards, in thickets of sunflowers or pole beans, barely came out of the shadow. In the yards, dog

seen a white dwelling, in which some windows were lighted. When the brichka rattled up to the entrance, a serving-man hurried out of the house and began to assist Pan Stanislav to alight; but in addition the night watch appear

e wall was a sideboard in walnut; at one end of this a clock with heavy weights and a cuckoo; at the other were two badly painted portraits of women in robes of the eighteenth century; in the ce

that silence, therefore he went to the window and looked through the panes at the yard filled with moo

er of the master of Kremen by his second wife; at sight of her he stepped from the window curtains, and, approac

ther is a trifle ill, and was obliged to lie down

e," answered Pan Stanislav; "the tra

es to Kremen. Father tells me th

mother when you were

re a relative

of Pan Plavitsk

n sunburnt somewhat, blue eyes, and a most shapely mouth. Altogether it was the face of a self-possessed and delicate woman. Pan Stanislav, to whom she seemed not ill-looking, but also not beautiful, thought that she was rather attractive; that she might be good; and that under that exterior, not too brilliant, she might have many of those various qualities which young ladies in the country have usually. Though he was young, life had taught him one truth,-that in general women gain

time before, twelve thousand and some rubles for a mortgage on Kremen, which Pan Stanislav wished to have redeemed,-first, because there were enormous arrears of interest, and second, since he was a partner in a mercantile house in Warsaw, he had entered into various transactions and needed capital. He had promised himself beforehand to make no compromise, and to exact his own absolutely. In affairs of that sort, it

well, but y

d that you busy yourself with every

en greatly,"

but I should not like to manage the pl

fficult. We do

,-you do wh

r, who is often

hat I see and hear, I infer that the greater nu

t on Pro

le cannot send credi

a blush; a moment of awkward silence fol

egun, proceed fart

e to explain the o

st now; the hour is late. I am barely alive from fatigue: even the slightest delicacy

it may be better if you will sp

your

Saturday, and on Saturday there is so much work. Moreover, in affairs of this sort, you will understand-sometimes, when Je

lacked the boldness to say that in questions

d permit me to po

the young lady gave hers far less cordially than at the greeting, so

will show you

an even to persuade himself that he had done well, since he had come hither, not to talk politely, but to get money. What was Panna Plavitski to him? She neither warme

he was satisfying his pose, not his heart, all the more because she pleased him. As in that sleeping village and in that moonlight night he had found something special, so in that young lady he found something which he had looked for in vain in foreign wo

er times, for it was hidden then by a great aged ash-tree, which must have been broken down by a storm, since on that spot there was sticking up merely a stump with a freshly broken piece at the top. The light of the moon seemed to centre on that fragment, which was gleaming very brightly. All this produced an impression of great calm. Pan Stanislav, who lived in the city amid mercantile labors, therefore in continual

earth, take a wife, and have a family. The greatest pessimism is powerless against this instinct; neither art nor any calling in life protects a man against it. In consequence of this, misanthropes marry in spite of their philosophy, artists in spite of their art, as do all those men who declare that they give to their objects not a half, but a whole soul. Exc

ieging other men's wives is possible only where men have very much money, little honor, and nothing to do, consequently in a society where there is a whole class long since enriched, sunk in elegant idleness, and of dishonest life. He was himself, in truth, greatly occupied, hence he wished to love in order to marry; therefore only unmarried women roused in him curiosity of soul and body. When he met a young lady, the first question he asked himself was, "Is she not the woman?" or at least, "Is she not the kind of woman?" At present his thoughts were circling around Panna Plavitski in this manner. To begin with, he had heard much

ed eyelids he saw yet the calm forehead of Panna Plavitski, the shadow over her mouth, and her hands pouring out the tea. Then, when sleep became overpowering, it seemed to him as though he were holding those hands i