I arrived at the palace, the which, behind a large gilded grate, abandonment, emptiness emitted. A long while outside the door I was made to wait, and when at last it opened, there Gonzalo stood, but in a lackey’s Apron, White, with a floor Broom and a rag. I recollected that he out of fear of the Boys, those boys of his, was wont to feign his own lackey, but naught, I Enter, he recoils: paled and his arms did flop as a Rag. Only when I said that I had come to Chat with him, did he turn a bit easeful and says: “Of course, of course, but let us go to my Closet where we can better chat.” Through chambers large, gilded, to the Closet he leads me the which Dirty, God forbid, and there was nary even a bed there, only a Pallet on bare boards. On the pallet he sits and to me: “What’s out there? What news out there?” Whereupon I Spat.
His ears blanched. He flopped and as a rag drooped. Say I:
“You are challenged to a duel by the Aged Gentleman whom you have insulted. Swords or pistols.”
He turned quiet, keeps quiet, whereupon I tell him: “You are challenged to a duel.”
“I am challenged to a duel?!”
“Aye, you are,” say I, “challenged to a duel!”
“I am challenged to a duel?!”
He squealed very thinly, fluttered dainty hands, glanced with that eye of his, and said in that Dainty voice of his: “I am challenged to a duel?”
Whereupon say I: “Leave off that Dainty voice, leave off that Eye, that dainty hand, and best fulfil your obligation! And out of friendship I am telling you this, for know you that if you stand not up to Tomasz, he has sworn to kill you as a Dog. Port or Transport.”
I thought he would cry out but he only Yielded as a rag and his large feet on the floor enfeebled lie; and black hairs that he has on his hand likewise enfeebled thus, yielded as if of Down. Transfixed, at me with an Ox-eye as a Cow he looks. I asked: “What you to this?” He says naught, but enfeebled, enfeebled as a Drenched Hen and only when he has thus Enfeebled does he, languidly as a Chinese Queen, stretch himself and murmur sweetly:
“And all for Ignasiek, my Ignasiek!”
Out of fear then he enfeebled into Woman and when Woman, he is afraid no more! ’Cause what is a duel to a Woman! I was still trying to speak to his sense and say I: “Think you, Arturo, that you insulted the Old Gentleman (he cried: The Old Man’s a fig!) who will not allow his Honour to be racked (he cried: Honour’s a fig!), and moreover, in the presence of other compatriots of his (he cried: Compatriots—a fig!), and I myself will not let you not stand up to this Father (he cried: Father’s a fig!), and likewise tell you to drum the Son out of your head” (he cries: The Son’s the thing, oh, indeed!).
Weeps; and weeping he moans: “I thought you were a Friend to me since I am to you a friend. How did that old gent o’erturn you? Instead of siding with the old Father, with the Young Ones you’d best join, to the Young Ones some freedom give, and the Young One from Pan Father’s Tyranny protect!”
Speaks he: “Come hither; I’ve something to tell you.”
Say I: “From afar I hear well enough.”
Says he: “Hither come; I would tell you something.”
Say I: “Why hither if I can hear?”
Says he: “Haply I would tell you something, but into your ear.”
Say I: “No need into the ear. We are alone.”
Yet speaks he: “I know that you hold me a Monster. Albeit I will give you cause to be on my side against that Father and acknowledge such ones as I the Salt of the Earth. Tell me: do you not acknowledge Progress? Are we to step in place? And how can there be aught New if just to the Old you give credence? Eternally then is Pan Father to hold a young son under his paternal lash? Eternally then is a Young One to rattle off prayers after Pan Father? Give some slack to the Young One, let him out free rein, let him frisk!”
Speak I: “You madman! For progress I am too, but you call Deviation progress.”
Replied he to this: “But if to deviate a bit, well?”
Whereupon, after he thus spoke, say I: “I’faith, you may tell this to such ones as you yourself are, and not to a man decent and honourable. I would not be a Pole if I were to set a Son against a Father; know you that we Poles our Fathers respect exceedingly, and thus you do not tell a Pole that he should a Son from a Father and, moreover, for Deviation take.” Exclaimed he: “But wherefore need you be a Pole?”
Further says he: “Has the lot of the Poles up to now been so delightful? Has not your Polishness become loathsome to you? Have you not had your fill of Sorrow? Your fill of Soreness, Sadness? And today they are flaying your skins again! And you insist so on staying in that skin of yours? Would you not become something Else, something New? Would you have all these Boys of yours but just repeat everything forever after Fathers? Oh, release Boys from the paternal cage. Let them veer off the path, let them peer into the Unknown! Thus far the old Father that colt of his has ridden bare and guided according to his own design… and now let the colt take the bit between the teeth so that he carries his Father where he will! And then the Father’s eyes will nigh whiten for his own Son doth carry him, carry him away! Gee-up, go! Give free rein to those Boys of yours, let them Gallop, let them Run, let them Bolt and be Carried away!”
Thereupon I cried: “Be still! Cease that Importuning of yours as ’tis impossible for me to be against the Father and the land of our fathers, against Pater and Patria, and what’s more, in a moment such as the present!” Mutters he: “To the Devil with Pater and Patria! The Son, the son’s the thing, oh, indeed! But wherefore need you Patria? Is not Filistria better? You exchange Patria for Filistria and then you’ll see!”
When he mentioned that “Filistria” I, in that first choler of mine, would fain have struck him; but this word so unwise to my ear sounded that at that Sick and haply Mad man laughter overtook me, and so I Laugh, Laugh … albeit he mutters:
“What about that old Gent? But you press so that perchance I would (out of friendship I am telling you so) stand up to him in a duel. I’faith, I would stand up if I had as a witness to the duel a trusted Friend who would slip bullets into sleeve at the loading of pistols. Give up the old Gent! What’s the Old Gent to you? Let the Old Man shoot only with powder: thus the Wolf is full and the Goat is whole. And after the duel a reconciliation can be made, and even a Draught taken! When I bravely stand up to him and shew myself a Man then he haply will not forbid me with that Ignasiek of his-mine to drink …”
I again into laughter; for indeed Laughable that thought of his; but speak I: “Not just one witness loads the arms; there are other witnesses.”
Says he: “Why need they mark it? It can be smoothly contrived since ’tis not the first time a duel with Bullets into Sleeve.” I at that: “And if they fall to the ground out of the Sleeve?”
Speaks he: “Into the sleeve an Inner Sleeve you must sew. Then they’ll drop into the Inner Sleeve; no fear.”
And so for quite a long while we sit without a Word. Yet in the end say I (‘cause again laughter was overtaking me): “Well, ’tis time for me.”
Right to the front door he accompanied me, the which he at once shut so that some Boy would not catch sight of him from the street. Upon finding myself alone, I walk along the street but anon there fell upon me that “Filistria” and now as an annoying Fly flits about the nose, and also tickles as snuff in the nose, so that again empty laughter overtook me. Filistria! Filistria! But ’tis Stupid, Crazy, pure Madness! And paltry, base those utterances of his that I am to put Bullets into Sleeve, and for that Puto Pater and Patria betray …
But what to do? It was obvious that human force would not make Gonzalo stand in front of a loaded Pistol; and since Tomasz has sworn that he will kill him as a dog if he does not stand up to him, the whole thing could finish in gaol, the which of course I could not allow if I were a Friend to Tomasz. Ergo, there is no remedy (if I wish Tomasz well) save to deceive Gonzalo with the deluding hope for Powder only; yet when he stands in place certain that he has outwitted Tomasz, we, the witnesses, w
ill stealthily load the pistols with Bullets and the Bullets will whistle! Oh no, I have been a friend to Tomasz! If I were to use cozenage then only for Tomasz’s good! But the whole matter must be settled unbeknownst to him as, being scrupulous in honour, at no price would he give his consent to such an intrigue; and it came to my mind that as witnesses I might to Gonzalo commend the Baron and Pyckal (the which I could easily concert with) and everything scheme with them, and smoothly so.
Albeit, first I needs must speak with them … and cautiously, as the Devil knows whether after yesterday’s blood they still hold with Gonzalo or whether perchance their consciences prick (although, lookye, they pressed Cashes on me) and all is changed with them. Ergo, I went to the Office where the duty of my employment called me in any case; yet, I admit, I was going there as if to be guillotined, viz. after yesterday’s Walking at that reception what for me here and how will those clerks, colleagues of mine, receive me since instead of Fame, Glory of Great Genius Bard, only humiliation, heavy as if but in a Shirt… and moreover with a Puto. ’Tis best, methinks, to put it all on the Schnapps or on the Wine, and so handkerchief to temple I bring, sigh, Walk but barely, as ’tis after Drunk a-Drinking. From their distance the clerklets give me looks but say nothing and only Whisper, and only there together amongst Themselves, amidst papers, as at an Odd bird look at me, and Whisper and Whisper. To me no one said a word, perchance for reason of Wariness, chariness. But there Amongst Themselves they went on whispering, and each one bites the other’s Bun, this one nudges that one; and naught but whispers as if from behind a fence. Perchance they were saying that I had besotted myself yesterday; and perchance something even Worse they whispered. The old Accomptant buried himself in his papers and from them as a magpie on a branch gave me looks, and perchance he remembered something of old ’cause he just whispers, whispers, “Merry, ferry, splotchy blotch.” I feigned to be Drunk or rather as ’tis after Drunk a-Drinking.
Ergo I asked after the Baron but they say that the Baron with Ciumkala is trying out newly bought Nags. Thereupon I went, and still with the Filistria (for I had this Filistria as a splinter in my head), to the Barn the which beyond the Manège on the far side of the yard; and there I see the Baron standing in the yard, in front of him the Stableman on a Mare, large, grizzled, now Walking, now Trotting, now Cantering or flinging out the foreleg in the French or Spanish manner; apart Pyckal and Ciumkala on a bench are sitting, beer drinking, and looking over a sorrel Nag which was loosely shod. And Pyckal called out: “Liposki, Liposki, where do you keep the horse Collar?” The Baron was shaking a whip: “Halt! Halt!” On a ladder, a sparrow.
It was hard for me to leave the Barn and go to them, and I would even have turned, not gone out, but Dogs that were in the Kennel began barking and so no Remedy: out I did go.
Yet a kerchief to the forehead I bring and move limply and sigh as ’tis after Drunk a-Drinking. They likewise were perchance III at Ease with me after yesterday, so presently the Kerchiefs bring, sigh, and Moan, and said the Baron: “Oh, my head Aches, head Aches. Seemingly yesterday there was too much of a good thing but no matter, no matter! Have a drink of Beer with us for, although one may have no taste for Beer, ’tis the best thing after Drunk a-Drinking!”
We drink Beer and moan. Yet those Cashes were grating on me and also I know not how to speak with them. Before Ciumkala I would not talk (having designated only the Baron and Pyckal as witnesses) thus we just Drink and Moan. ’Tis hot and about to rain. Ciumkala went to the barn with a Peg as he had lost the Key. Thereupon say I that Tomasz has challenged Gonzalo but the Knot is, the Obstacle is: Gonzalo fears to stand up to him and not at any price will stand. Say I then: “’Tis an impossible Thing since Tomasz’s oath is such that he will as a Dog kill him if he does not stand up to him and that, lookye, would mean gaol. And also impossible for us not to give to our Countryman so gravely insulted some help in his grave need. And something must be Counselled so that Gonzalo will stand up to him.” Say they: “Of course, of course, Countryman, Countryman, and moreover at such a time, to leave a Countryman, not to help a Countryman!” Their heads they sink, their beer they drink, at me they blink.
I preferred not to mention the cashes for I was ill at ease. Yet say I that haply there is no other Remedy and if Gonzalo would have the shooting with no Bullets, it must be promised to him but hush hush so that not a living soul will know. Thus the Wolf is full and the Goat is whole. Heads together. The Baron eyes Pyckal, likewise Pyckal the Baron, albeit the Baron spoke: “It appears there is no other Remedy but ’tis an irksome thing.” Says Pyckal: “A murky affair.”
Say I: “’Tis known to me that Gonzalo would gladly have your Honours, Benefactors, Friends of his as witnesses of his since you were present at the jangle, and so we, the witnesses, would in mutual agreement arrange it all smoothly amongst ourselves and, as is being done, put the bullets into the Sleeve; and although this, lookye, an Irksome thing, yet our Intent is pure as ’tis the matter of the deliverance of our comrade, Compatriot, a man already advanced in years and scrupulous in honour; likewise ’tis that Poland’s name at such a hard time for that Patria of ours suffer no damage.”
Pyckal gives a look to the Baron, the Baron to Pyckal; the Baron agitated his fingers, Pyckal moved his leg. Said the Baron: “At no price will I be a Puto’s witness.” And Pyckal: “And I be a witness! What else!”
Yet say I: “Oh, hard, hard but must do, must do as the Compatriot is in distress and so for the Compatriot, for the Patria …” Thereupon sighed the Baron, sighed Pyckal. Sit they, blink they, drink they, and sigh they. Then say they: “Oh, hard, hard, but must do, must do. No other Remedy and moreover for the Compatriot, for the Patria!”
Ergo, Hard, very Hard! And primarily as the Intention is unfathomable; since the Devil knows whom they really would serve—Gonzalo or Tomasz. They too know not my Intention (and primarily ’cause I have not returned to them their Cashes). But I too know not my Intention and, although I hold to the side of the Pater, old, the Filistria, young, stirs in my mind. But it began to rain and Ciumkala scrambled down the ladder.
Albeit something must be begun. I went to Gonzalo to commend to him Pyckal and the Baron as witnesses. He hugged, called me a Friend of his and, now certain that without bullets the shooting, heaps of gold promised me. Then to Tomasz, whom I told only that Gonzalo had vowed to stand up to him. Tomasz hugged me. Then to Dr. Garcia I went, the which Tomasz as his second Witness had designated: an eminent attorney was he and, having learned that I had come from Tomasz, anon most politely he received me in his office ahead of other clients. Says he then (since in the office noise, knocking, clients aplenty, records being brought in and distributed, and constantly someone coming up and interrupting): “I know Señor Tomasz and am his Friend—but these Records are to be expedited there, and Receipted—and I wouldn’t be a man of Honour if in this matter of Honour—and ask Señor Perez if he got quittances—ergo, I cannot refuse him this, oh, may Almighty God—here this Dispatch must be completed—let me Worthily—replace that Folio—fulfill my duty—this letter send off.” To Gonzalo we went then and there the Challenge was hurled, the which Gonzalo with great Courage and Pride received in His Salon.
Albeit, when late in the evening and now out of weariness scarce able to stand I returned home, Counsellor Podsrocki’s card I find: viz. at ten o’clock in the morn I am to present myself at the Legation where His Excellency the Envoy desires to see me. This summoning as a thunderbolt out of the blue fell on me, since ’tis unfathomable what they would have, what they may do to me, and belike ’tis about that Walk at the Reception or even about the Puto! Oh, why do they torment, why do they not give me Peace! Have they not brewed enough! Have they not induced enough Shame on me and on themselves! And mayhap even penalties, thunderbolts will fall on me for those antics of mine! But since I must go there, I go; yet I think: Bite me not for I will bite you back, and you are not dealing with just any lout but with a Man who will stick in your throat as a Bone. Ergo I
go. In the street “Polonia, Polonia” noxious clamor, but I keep going and whilst the Patria’s battle and merciless clamour from all sides come upon the ear, I with the Filistria in my head go on and on. In the Legation a hush and empty chambers but I go on, and to me Podsrocki, the Counsellor, came out in pinstripe trousers and morning Jacket and wing collar with a Bow-tie tucked in the “Z” fashion. Most politely greeted me but very Coldly and, having twice hemmed, with his long English Finger pointed me the door. I enter and there a Table, behind the table the Minister, at his side another member of the Legation introduced to me as Colonel Fichcik, a military attaché. A Minute-book and an inkwell on the table indicated belike no ordinary conversation it will be but a Conference.
His Excellency the Envoy was pale and in want of sleep but smoothly shaven. Most politely greeted me, although perchance a bit III at Ease he was … but naught, gives me a poke in the ribs, says: “Oh, not to know you! You brewed up quite a batch yesterday. You were Soaked, Besotted yourself as a creature ne’r God created, and in front of people, but let it go, so much for that…”
Instantly he flashed his eye and likewise Fichcik and Podsrocki flashed. I recognized then that all that Silliness that happened they had on drunk a-drinking put. And say I: “A bit too much of that Schnapps, the colic on’t, still Hiccups …” Chuckled then the Envoy, after him the Counsellor, and after him the Colonel.
But this laughter not out of will, forced; and belike they would instead undo me. But the Minister speaks: “What say you? With that Pan Kobrzycki, a Major, apparently there was a jangle; and then likewise when Pan Counsellor to the Baron rode yesterday, to see horses, the Baron said there would be a duel. Is’t true? “Seeing that already they have news about it, I said: “All that was about a Mug the which at Tomasz was hurled!” The Minister speaks: “Besides, the Baron said that Major Kobrzycki’s bearing in this situation was exceeding worthy, honourable, for the edification of all Foreigners present there, and likewise ’tis certain that by that Duel he will not bring shame, indeed as a Cavalier, as a worthy Man will stand up. Ergo, ’tis important, gentlemen, that that Manliness of ours is not hidden under a bushel, and indeed is to all four sides of the world trumpeted to the greater fame of our name, and chiefly at the time when we at Berlin, at Berlin, to Berlin!” (Herewith all sprang up, viz. first the Envoy, second the Colonel, third the Counsellor, and shout: “Berlin, Berlin, at Berlin, at Berlin, to Berlin!”)