Trans-Atlantyk

  I reckoned then that, although they are giving these Cashes each to the others amongst themselves, they would fain give me these Cashes to purchase my favour … save that they feel awkward for want of daring with me. Ergo I say: “Do not fever yourselves, Gentles, easy, easy.” Yet they were but seeking a way to press these Cashes on me, and at length the Baron clasped his head: “Aye me, my pocket is torn. I’d better give my Cashes to you as I may lose them!” … and he started to press the Cashes on me. Seeing that, the others also press theirs: “My pocket is torn, too. Take mine”—“And mine.” Say I: “For God’s sake, gentles, to what end do you give?” … But at this moment someone came in for the need, so they to Urinals, unbutton, whistle, as if naught, as if for the need … Only when that someone who had come in went out, they at me again, and since they have become more daring, they indeed thrust the Cashes on me and “Take, take,” they chorus. Say I: “In the name of the Father and the Son, gentlemen, to what end do you give, what purpose you your cashes with me?” In this moment, however, someone came in for the need, so they to Urinals, whistle … but as soon as we were left alone, again they lept at me arid Pyckal roared: “Take, take when you are given, take, take for he has three hundred or four hundred Millions!”—“Take not from Pyckal; take from me,” cried the Baron, whirring and buzzing as a wasp, “from me take, as, for God’s sake, he may have even four hundred or five hundred Millions!”

  And Ciumkala moaned, whimpered, sighed: “Perchance even six hundred Millions—take, I beg you the favour, Your Honor, likewise my pittance!” Whilst each, reddened, heated, so insists and waves these Cashes, pressing them, thrusting them on me, the first nigh the second and the third, the first hard upon the second, upon the third, they Together amongst Themselves—at me, at me. Wishing not to be disagreeable any longer, I let them press the Cashes on me. Then all to Urinals as someone was just coming in. I with these Cashes towards the door and from the Privy rushed out into the dance hall; and there music plays, couples turn. I with these Cashes stopped. I see that my Gonzalo at the table is still pranking and pranking and pranking …

  Now he waves his Dainty hand; flutters his eyelashes; then bread Pellets he tosses; now he tinkles his glass; now he clasps fingers to his cheek, and so he amongst these pranks of his as a Turkey amongst Sparrows … with riotous laughter his own Pranks salutes! So those, who were sitting near him, perchance thought him in his cups, but I knew what was that Wine of his and to whom he directs those pranks. Although I in abomination would fain go home, flee, Leave off, this sight pricks me as a knife (and now tossing his Heel up) for (and now fluttering his handkerchief) a comrade of mine ’tis, an ally (clapping his palms, clapping his knees) with whom I had walked (wiggling his fingers); thus I cannot for myself allow him such a spectacle of himself to make in the presence of others (piping on a paper pipe). Ergo, back to the table I directed myself.

  Upon seeing me, out of prank he began waving at me, beckoning me. Thereupon, when I came closer, he exclaimed: “Heigh heigh, sit you, sit, we’ll make Merry! Heigh heigh, heigh heigh, sunny Honey!

  Honey, honey is Pankracy,

  But my sweeting is Ignacy!

  And a pellet thrusts at my nose, paper he pipes, and softly says: “You traitor, where have you been, what have you been doing? This matter of mine is Tedious for you!” And anon likewise his Glass of wine clinks against mine, deals napkins about, and pours wine into a glass for me. “Let’s drink! Let’s drink!”

  Mother forbids the dance

  And still I do prance!

  “So let’s merry-make! Let’s rejoice!” He pours wine for me. I cannot refuse as he urges boisterously. We drink. But next to us, at another table, the Baron, Pyckal, Ciumkala have seated themselves and call for wine! To the Devil! It seems that, since they have given me Cashes, they feel more daring and when Gonzalo takes sips, they likewise to Tankards, to glasses; with Tankards, Glasses, Mugs they clink, they Drink, they Down, they shout, Heigh heigh, nonny no—heigh for a rainy day, oh! They had not enough daring, though, to drink to us, so they drank to themselves only. We with Gonzalo likewise to each other would drink.

  Thine Eye that shines so

  Shoot quick, he comes ho.

  But quietly he says: “Go to the Old Gentleman, invite them to our company. We will get acquainted.”

  Say I: “It cannot be.”

  Under the table he presses something into my hand and says: “Take it, take it. Have it. Keep it…” and Cashes these were. “Take,” says he. “You have need. Recognize a Friend, an Admirer, and if you care to be a Friend to me I will a Friend be to you!” I am loathe to take but he is pressing forcefully and so impresses. Markye, I would have dashed these Cashes on the floor but, since I had already had those Cashes and now to those new ones were added, I know not what to do as belike some four thousand has already amassed.

  The while the Baron and his comrades drank amongst themselves, but they began Drinking to me likewise. With their cashes in pocket, I could do them no less than drink to them; so they again drink to me; Gonzalo drinks to me; I to Gonzalo; they to Gonzalo; Gonzalo to them! We drink, drink on. Merrymaking indeed!

  Oh, Kisser, why kiss me?

  My lips are not for thee!

  Paper he pipes; hand, foot he flutters! Hoopla, hoopla! So now we all together each to the others from one table to the other drink. But to tell the truth, not to these but to those Gonzalo drank, viz. to the old Gentleman and to the Son. Says he to me likewise: “Go, bid their company!”

  Whereupon I rise and, to the old gentleman having come up, these words I uttered: “Forgive me, Pan, such intrusiveness, but I have heard our tongue so I wish to greet my Countrymen.”

  At once most politely having risen, he introduced himself as “Kobrzycki Tomasz, formerly Major, now Retired,” and likewise a son of his, Ignacy, introduced. Then he asks me to be seated. I did alight; he proffers beer. But I could see that my company was not quite to his taste, and that for the reason of those Companions of mine. And chiefly that they there Yell, Drink, Roar! Upon seeing then that exceeding upright, honest man, in these words I speak: “I am in company, but they appear a bit beliquored, and ’tis known to you, Esteemed Gentleman, that no one chooses acquaintances here; oft ‘twould be better if Acquaintances could turn into Non-acquaintances!”

  And there they Roar. But says he: “I am aware of your constrained situation and, if ‘twould please you, take more peaceable merriment with us.” Ergo we go on Discoursing. This man exceeding worthy, Decent was, of Dry features, well-proportioned, grizzly head, fair eye, grey and very Bushy, of dry countenance but Mossy, voice Mossy too, hand dry and likewise Mossy, nose aquiline but bushy and exceeding Mossy, and alike ears with bunches of hairs, grey and overgrown. His son, a-close now, quite well-moulded, shapely seemed to me; and his hand, foot—so, his teeth, crown—so, that rascal, rascal, oh, rascal Gonzalo! And there they roar, roar out! Herewith the Old Gentleman to me: that to the army he is dispatching his Only Son, the which, if unable to reach our Country, would enlist in England or in France, so that from this side he could wrack the enemy. “Ergo,” quoth he, “we happened into this Park so that my Ignacy before his leave-taking could pleasure himself, and some Folk Revels I would have him see.” He speaks, and there they are drinking. What then in this man drew attention was some exceeding sense in his speech and all his behaviour, and so sensible, so discreet he was in every word and deed of his that as an Astronomer constantly within himself he Scans, attends. Also exceeding mannerly.

  Confronted with such Mannerliness and Sensibleness in all things, such Honourableness, confronted with apparent exceeding purity, righteousness in all Affairs, designs, I am ever more ashamed of those Companions of mine and of my own affairs and petty affairs. But not desiring to confess to him these vexations of mine, I say just this: “Your worthy aim I wish the best, Honoured Sir; permit me to drink with One’s Son to the success of those worthy, Noble plans.” So we clinked. But when I clinked with the Son, there likewis
e Gonzalo drank to me. And likewise the Baron, Pyckal, Ciumkala drank to me. Hoopla, hoopla, hoopla, let’s drink, let’s rejoice! Ergo, I needs drink to them; they to me. Then the Old Gentleman:

  “Well, then, I see they are drinking.”

  “Indeed, they are.”

  “They are drinking to you.”

  “They are, for our acquaintance.”

  He mused, he saddened … and at last he said a bit lower: “Oh, methinks, ’tis not the Time for such frolics … not the Time …”

  I am ashamed! Whereupon, bending to his ear, in these words quietly did I speak: “Zounds, you’d best go from here together with this son of yours, and I’m telling you this out of friendship ’cause they are Drinking, but not to me!”

  The Old Man frowned: “And to whom are they drinking?”

  Say I: “To that Foreigner, Companion of mine they drink, yet he not to them or to me but to that Son of yours.”

  Astounded, he bristled: “To Ignasio he drinks? What means this?”

  “To Ignasio, to Ignasio. And hie thee hence with thy Ignasio for ’tis Ignasio he is chasing after! Hie thee hence, hie thee hence, I say!”

  And here they Bellow, Swill, Toot, Roar, steadily Glasses, tankards, flagons drain! And hoopla, hoopla, and Hansel-Gretel! Racket, clamour as in a market! The Old Man reddened as a Tomato: “I too reckoned that he eyed my Son, but I knew not for what reason.”

  “Hie thee hence, hie thee hence with your Son else you’ll expose yourself to people’s raillery!”

  “I with Ignacy (and still quietly into the Ear we are talking) will not flee as my Ignacy is not a maiden! For God’s sake, mix not Ignacy in this, tell not Ignacy! I myself will deal with that man.”

  The while to Gonzalo the Baron and Pyckal drink, and Gonzalo towards us waves his handkerchief and downs a mug. “Heigh heigh, be happy; heigh heigh, be jolly!”

  The Old Gentleman took hold of his mug as if he would drink to Gonzalo… but suddenly he banged this mug on the table. From the table he sprang up! Gonzalo likewise stood up! Whereupon others likewise begin to stand up, having sensed there is about to be a Combat. Only the Son did not move but he was ill at Ease for possibly he reckoned what was rustling in the rushes; and as a shellfish the poor fish blushed.

  Ergo, stands the Old Man; and likewise stands Gonzalo. This one despite that effeminacy of his was quite a sizeable man; but when the Smell of Combat wafted, he greatly softened; and so Puto stands aghast and the Old Man stands; Puto stands aghast and the Old Man stands; aghast Puto stands and the Old Man stands. And so it was for quite a while. Gonzalo with the fingers of his left hand lightly, quietly Frolicked, and that as if wagging his tail and asking that everything into a Joke, into a little frolick be turned. But the Old Man stands and Gonzalo has now, out of that fear of his, in dread, in anxiety, a Mug, the which he held in his other hand, to his lips lifted, a Drink taking. Calamity of his! Perchance he has forgotten that but over that very Drinking this jangle is! Now the Old Man’s question could be heard:

  “To whom drink you?”

  To whom indeed? To nobody he drank. He drank out of fear, and he takes not the Mug from his lips, for if he were to take, he would have to answer! So he Drinks, stays Drinking to be Drinking. But the trouble is—the Devil, the Devil—that whilst previously he drank to the Son furtively, now his Drinking again towards the Son itself directs. (The Son at the table sat and did not move.) And so stands Rascal She, Drinks, and to that Boy a little Drinks!

  Realizing and fearing the mighty wrath of Tomasz, he has softened as a rag. But indeed out of Fear he drinks the more, and by this Drinking yields himself to Tomasz’s Wrath … and the more fearing the Wrath, he Drinks and Drinks! Exclaimed Tomasz:

  “Ah, to me you drink!”

  Yet in sooth not to him he did Drink; but to the Son. Apparently, though, Tomasz had so exclaimed with the intent, viz. to turn from his Son that Drinking of Gonzalo’s. There Pyckal, the Baron and Ciumkala were guffawing! Gonzalo glances at the Old Gentleman and drinks on, and although he has already drunk it all, he still drinks and drinks … But now he obviously drinks to the Boy, and now with this drinking of his he changes himself into Woman and in Her, in that woman, escape, protection from Tomasz’s wrath he finds! For now not a Man! Now a Woman! Exclaimed Tomasz, out of Wrath as a Tomato fearsome:

  “I forbid you, Sir, to drink to me; I disallow a Non-acquaintance to drink to me!”

  But what Sir is he? Not sir but Madam! And in sooth not to him does drink but to the Son. And Drinks, Drinks, and although the Mug already empty, Drinks, Drinks and so that Drinking of his ad Infinitum lengthens and with Drinking he defends himself, with that Drinking o’erdrinks and drinks and drinks, and ceases not to Drink. Whereupon, since Drink any longer he cannot, when that Drinking for him was over, he took the mug from his lips and threw it at the Old Man!

  Crack! Into small chinks the mug shattered above Tomasz’s eye!

  But Tomasz moves not, just stands. Then the son sprang up but Tomasz exclaimed:

  “Stay out, Ignacy!”

  And naught, but stands. And blood appears, and one large Drop over his cheek is rolling. Ergo, there is going to be a Combat; they will lock heads … So Pyckal, the Baron, Ciumkala from the table did move and began aught to pick up—one a Tankard, the other a Bottle, the third a Club or a Stool; but Tomasz moves not, just stands! Skulls are steaming so ’tis murky! Those who apart did stand edged closer, and now Pyckal, the Baron, not daring to enter Combat with someone there, each other began to rough up and by the Mop, and so perchance cracking Skulls, tearing Ears … and my eyes are murky, Hum, Fog, as I had been drinking too. But Tomasz stands. And there appeared the second Drop, the which dribbled along the path of the first one.

  I look: but naught. Stands Tomasz and stands Gonzalo. The third Drop slowly dribbled along the path of the first two, and on Tomasz’s Waistcoat fell. Merciful God, what is’t? Why moves Tomasz not? But he just stands. And a new, fourth Drop dribbled. From Tomasz’s silent drops all became silent and Tomasz looks at us and we at Tomasz; and the fifth Drop dribbles.

  Trickles, Trickles. We all stand. Gonzalo Moves not. Anon back to his table he went, took his Hat, and slowly made off… till his back was lost from our sight. Ergo, when Gonzalo had gone, everybody made a move—took hat, went home, and so everyone cleared away, everything Cleared Away.

  That night I was for a long time wakeful. Oh, why have I been obedient to the Legation? Why did I go to that Reception? Why did I Walk at that reception? They will not forgive me that Shame and possibly I am already ridiculed by all, contemned, a Buffoon proclaimed. And when just one, only one man who denied me not his Recognition, and perchance even some Admiration, turned out to be a Puto, and when he into his courtship drew me as a Pander, what Ignominy and Disgrace of mine! Therewith, tossing in bed I sigh, moan. Oh, Gombrowicz, Gombrowicz, oh, where is that Greatness, that Distinction of yours? Haply you are Distinguished but as a Pander, Great but Friend of a Knave out to undo a Compatriot of yours worthy and good, and also that one’s Son young and good. And when there far away, over the waters, blood, here likewise blood; and Tomasz’s drops that are for my doing spilt. How this blood of Tomasz’s did weigh on me, how in its conjunction with that blood being spilt it did terrify me! And abed buffeted by pain, I felt that blood issuing from blood there, here shed, can lead me to blood heavier still…

  To break with Gonzalo, to put him from one’s own self away … Yet we did already Walk together, did Walk, indeed Walk we together, Walk, and how am I to Walk without him if together we walk … So passed the night! But when morning came, a strange Thing and so hard, stubborn as if Skull against wall: viz. Tomasz arrives and, having apologized for a call at an early hour, begs me to challenge Gonzalo on his behalf! I was dumbfounded and did say: “Why? To what end? What aim?” Yesterday he put Gonzalo down sufficiently, and how to challenge him, how to duel with him but a Cow… Hard, stubborn, he answered me: “Cow or not a cow, wears Breeches and the insult was public
k, and it cannot be that I come out of this as a poltroon, and moreover in front of Foreigners!”

  Lost, then, my persuasions: how can one with a cow? Challenge a cow? Become prey to tongues and perchance fan new laughter? ’Tis better to hush-hush and keep it under as the shame would be Ignacy’s, too. He cried:

  “Cow or not a cow, such talk! And not to Ignacy he drank, but to me, the elder! And not at Ignacy he threw the mug, but at me! Betwixt us there was a drunken jangle and an insult, as it happens betwixt Men!”

  I to him that Cow. But he will insist and still Cries sharply that Ignacy had nothing to do with this, that that one is not a Cow. Finally he says: “Ergo, I must challenge him. I will duel with him so that this matter in a manly manner betwixt Men is settled; to be sure, I will make a Man of him that it cannot be said that a Puto is after my Son! Ergo, if he does not stand up to me, I will shoot him as a Dog, and you tell him so, so that he knows. He must stand up to me!”

  His obstinacy surprised me and ’twas already clear that this man will not rest till he forces Gonzalo into Man; for perchance he could not bear his son’s being ridiculed; so, despite the very obvious, he pits himself in this way against the obvious, the which he wishes to change! Yet how force Gonzalo to stand up? Heads together. To me Tomasz said that first I on my own to Gonzalo should go and privately suggest to him that either Port or Transport: viz. either he stands up or risks certain death from Tomasz’s hand. Only then was I to go to him the second time, now with a second witness, to Challenge him pro forma.

  No Remedy. No good, oh, no good. Perchance ‘twould be better to leave off because this doing against the very nature: viz. to challenge a Puto. But despite the obvious, despite reason, some hope was tapping within: that haply he would accept this challenge, stand up a Man. And then for me none such shame that I with him at the reception did walk, and likewise with him to the Japanese Park did walk. Ergo, I’ll go, hurl at him this challenge, see what he does do. So (although it smelled Not Good), heedful of Tomasz’s plea, I betook myself to Gonzalo.