Without Dogma: A Novel of Modern PolandSienkiewicz, Henryk
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Without Dogma: A Novel of Modern Poland
Sienkiewicz, Henryk
Poland -- Fiction
I remained alone,--with a feeling of anger and humiliation. That I
should have taken advantage of Aniela's confidence is quite certain,
and yet I felt offended by her want of trust, and resolved to pay her
out in some way. I stood for an hour at the window looking absently at
the lightning flashes. Then it grew lighter and lighter outside; at
last the clouds parted, and the sun shone forth fresh and bright and
as if wondering at the devastation the tempest had wrought.
It was very considerable; the avenues were still flooded with yellow,
foaming water, above which floated broken branches. Here and there big
trees were lying about, snapped across or torn out by the roots; the
bark was partly stripped from the trunks of pine trees, leaving what
looked like gaping wounds. Everywhere the eye could reach there was
ruin and devastation, as if after a battle.
When the water had drained off a little I went out toward the ponds
to ascertain the extent of the damage. Suddenly the whole park became
alive with people, who, with an almost savage energy, began to tear
off the broken branches and chop at the fallen trunks. It appears they
were peasant-lodgers who had no right in the woods. In the main, I
did not care whether they gathered the sticks, but as they had come
through the broken fence without permission, and in such a savage
manner, I, being out of humor, began to drive them away, my anger
rising at their stubborn resistance. At last I threatened them with
the village authorities, when suddenly, close by, the sweetest voice
in the world said in French:--
"Is there any harm in their clearing the park, Leon?"
I turned round and saw Aniela, her head covered with a kerchief tied
under her chin. With both hands she was holding up her dress, showing
up to the ankles her little feet encased in high boots; bending
slightly forward she looked at me entreatingly.
At her sight my anger vanished at once. I forgot the unpleasant
sensations that had troubled me a little while before, and looked at
her as if I could never fill myself enough with the sight.
"Is it your wish?" I asked.
Then, turning to the people, I said:--
"Take the wood, and thank the lady for the permission."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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