Chapter five: The Escape

Chapter Five: The Escape

"Mr. Antek, please get up, I brought you breakfast."

Antek opened his eyes.
They brought him breakfast? Milk?
Hey! He could have downed a shot of vodka to strengthen his bones.
Ah, how well he had slept; that had been real sleep.
And now someone brought him breakfast, and the old man even called him “Mr. Antek,” not just “Antek.”
Suddenly he had become a mister.
Ah, if only it were like this, just like this — but different.
No doubt about it, this place was going to be seriously boring.
What is this place anyway — some agricultural institution or a prison, or who the devil knows what — anyway, something boring, that's for sure.

And Antek felt within him an abundance of new strength.
On a day like this, he could have earned two or three rubles.
It was on just such days that the best “arrangements” came to mind.
He’d be on every street, striking up with everyone, and could make a good joke even out of a residential building's doorman.
And here...?
And afterwards, after such a day full of running about — a free evening, just the way it should be.
They’d go to Stach to play cards.
Order vodka for the boys and tell stories, political jokes and others.
Ah, those were the days!
And here...?
And it was all because of Mania.
If he had been alone, they wouldn't have been able to take him like a sheep to the slaughter.
He would have slipped away even from the carriage.
What, he hadn’t escaped before?
More than once, even two guards had nearly killed him, and a third was running with all his might, and he — this way, that way, behind the corner — and gone.
Broniek was right when he always said that girls are fine — but from a distance.
And what should he do now?

"Whatever it is, I’ve got to end this," said Antek and stood up.
"Ho ho! New clothes — quite the outfit!"

They had taken away his old ones.
They were sorely mistaken if they thought that would fool him.
Rags might impress the girls, but not him.
Antek is known even in rags.
Out there, the one who orders is the gentleman. The one who hits — that’s the boss.
No doubt about it — Wicek had taken quite a beating from him.
And now, just when he could’ve taken advantage of the situation, reaped the rewards of his victory — that’s when the stupid old man carts him off, the devil knows for what.
"I’m escaping today," Antek decided.

They give him milk. As if it were some kind of delicacy. What is he — a baby, being nursed with milk?
Next thing they’ll be forcing him to learn carpentry, like they did to Yanek. But Yanek — that was different; he had been sent to an institution by court order, because he stole from the watchmaker he worked for. But he, Antek, had never been caught stealing.

"I’ll be out of here in no time," the boy muttered to himself.

The count couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to visit his prisoner.

"Good morning," he said as he entered.

"Good morning. It’s good you came, sir, because I want to talk to you. Just don’t look at me like that, sir, because I’m not scared... I’d like to know what you plan to do with me here?"

"You’ll know everything soon enough."

"I want to know now, because I want to go back to my father."

"Is it so bad here?"

"Bad or not, I want to go back, that’s all. I’ve got work there, in Warsaw."

"You’ll find work here too."

"That kind of work I don’t want. I’m not blaming you — maybe you mean well — but I, sir, I can’t stay here, that’s that. Maybe you want to take us in because your own children died.We had this dim-witted girl and some lady took her in, and now she always travels with that lady, like she’s some kind of fine lady herself. Fine — keep Mania for yourself, sir, and if you need a boy, I can get you a hundred of them. But me, I can’t stay here. There’s this poor guy at our gatekeeper’s place who’s perfect to be your kid — sits all day with a book, his mother nearly tore his ears off, and he’s so dumb he’s just right to be some kind of little count. Marcin has seven like him. If he thinks that Yendrek would be better off here, he’ll give him to you to raise and educate, even as a gift, even for free. But I’m telling you honestly — this isn’t for me. I like the company, I like to sit down, treat the boys, pay for others out of my own pocket — I don’t need favors, because I can earn for myself! Yesterday I was angry, but now I’m talking, sir, without getting worked up, because I know you understand this isn’t your business, and it isn’t mine either, and you’ll let me go without making trouble. You swore, sir — on your word of honor — that if I don’t want to stay, you’ll let me go. Why get the police involved? If I run away and they ask me for papers, I’ll just say you refuse to give them back — end of story. Only my father has the right to keep me by force — not you. And my father isn’t allowed to sell me either. You thought, sir, that I’m that stupid? Ha! I only pretend to be dumb when it suits me — but I’m a clever devil, I am!...  I can speak to you straight, because I’ve figured out that either you’re a good man — or you’ve got a screw loose.

Zarutsky, who had been sitting with his head resting in his hands, lifted his face at Antek’s final words.
“Sorry, sir, that’s not what I meant at all, it’s just… well, what do I know, maybe you’re so rich that paying that much for… that sort. So, how do we settle this?”
“Stay here, Antek, at least for the winter.”
“What, have I gone mad? It’s peak season now. The best profits. The circus and all. I have to get back home today.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not? Fine, have it your way.”

Antek felt a wave of anger rising inside him but pushed the feeling deep down. He was disappointed and dejected that he had failed to befool this gentleman.
“A real sly fox,” he thought to himself, “but he’s no match for me.”

“You have to stay at least a few more days.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not, Antek?”
“Because I just don’t, that’s why.”
“And if I ask you to?”
“I still won’t stay. When I say no, it’s no.”
“You’ll be comfortable here with me.”
“Maybe so. But you said I could leave whenever I felt like it. A man whose word of honor isn’t worth anything—well, that’s no man.”
“I’m just asking you.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Then stay at least one more week. Think about it. Mania won’t stay here alone, and you two like each other.”
“What do I care about her? I can find a hundred like her. Mania? Just a silly girl, that’s all. If she wants to stay, let her stay; I’m not stopping her. And anyway, it’s all her fault.”
“You don’t want to say goodbye to her?”
“I don’t care.”

Zarutsky turned toward the door. Antek stuck out his tongue behind his back and made a rude gesture with his fingers on his nose.
Countess Irina saw it all from above and sighed with sorrow.

Antek sat on the bed and looked out the window. He might have stayed a bit longer, but now that the man was begging, he definitely wouldn’t. Who knows? People like that can entangle you until you really do end up staying. And maybe that man really is crazy? When he mentioned the “loose screw,” he gave him such a look it gave him chills.

Mania entered the room hesitantly.
“Oh! Oh! They’ve made a lady out of you too. Even an apron and shoes. Fine, be a lady if that’s what you want.”

He mocked her on purpose, so she wouldn’t notice how impressed he was by her clean dress and neatly combed hair.
The girl’s laughing eyes clouded with sadness.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing at all, just congratulating you on becoming a fine lady.”
“You’re wearing new clothes too.”
“I’ll return them. I don’t need handouts. When I earn some money, I’ll buy my own. I had to wear these because they took mine, got it?”

That greeting stunned Mania. She stood in the middle of the room, afraid to move.
“Are you staying?”
“And you?”
“Of course. I’m leaving today.”
“Where to?”
“We’ll see. Anywhere but here.”
“You don’t like it here?”
“It’s great. Too good, and that’s not healthy either. But you stay. They’ll call you ‘My Lady’ here.”
“Why are you picking on me?”
“I know exactly why. Oh yes! I know you. When you were in trouble, you sucked up, but now you’re a lady just as much as I’m a gentleman. You’re stupid, I’m telling you, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because they sent you to convince me. I know everything, because I’ve got a ‘nose’ for this kind of stuff. You think I don’t know, but I know very well.”
“No one sent me.”
“You’re lying.”
“You’re lying.”
“Listen, Mania, don’t get on my nerves or I’ll smack your teeth in.”
“Try it.”
“So what will you do to me? Oh, right, you’ve got a better patron than me now. That gentleman of yours is exactly like Fat Felek on the boulevard, you know.”
“Antek, don’t start with me!” the girl cried out, almost in tears. 
“No, of course not, I won’t even touch you. Stay here. Enjoy yourself.”

The children (if one could call them that) had often quarreled before, and they’d had worse fights — but never had their words carried so much mutual rejection as they did today.
Their shared fate and their high intelligence, along with something similar in their souls, had always bridged the abyss between their very different natures.
Today that abyss was clear to both of them.

A moment of silence fell, broken by the entrance of Countess Irina.

"Come with me, children, she said. I’ll tell you a story."

" I’m not interested in stories," Antek muttered — and yet, he followed the countess.

After passing through the corridor, the three of them entered a room dimly lit by a single lamp, its glow softened by a dark lampshade.
A cloth screen hung a few steps in front of the chairs where the children sat, and in its center was a large circle of light.

"A show or something like that," the boy muttered. "This is how they want to fool me. 
Well, fine. Let’s see it. "

The countess hid behind the screen.
A moment later, the first image appeared in the circle of light. It showed two figures, a boy and a girl.
They sat beneath a tree, gazing at a distant city sketched faintly against the sky: a forest of tall smokestacks, towers, and buildings. From behind the screen came the voice of the countess:
"Two children are sitting under a tree, two lonely children, orphans. They sit under the tree and gaze at the distant city, the city they are heading toward — a city they do not know. Their hearts are full of curiosity, concern, and joy. What is the name of this city? The name of the city is 'Life'. What will the City of Life give them?"

A second image appeared in the bright circle: Six figures stood before the children. An elderly man with a white beard and a kind expression, a book in hand; A maiden in a white dress, eyes lifted to the heavens, a cross in her hand; A young man with gleaming eyes and a face proud and strikingly handsome; A youth holding a green branch, his clear gaze turned to the children; A blacksmith raising a mighty hammer; A young woman with a wreath of purple flowers adorning her head.

"I am Faith," said the maiden. "I believe in a good and merciful God, who shelters orphans and the forsaken, who comforts the miserable. I believe in the Redeemer of sinners, the Judge of the wicked, the Avenger of wrongs. I believe in truth and grace."

"I am Love, said the young man. I love human beings: I love those who are worthy of love, and I pity those I cannot love. I am Love, children."

"And I — I am Hope," said the youth. "I am convinced that people will grow ever better and happier.
I believe that faith and love must conquer the human heart, and that 'we are walking toward the light'.”

"They call me Purity," said the young woman with the wreath of purple flowers. "Faith, love, and hope are my younger sisters. Whoever stands by me stands by them as well."

"Science — that is my name," whispered the old man. "I am their stepbrother, the father and son of all four. Without them, I am nothing; without me, they are nothing. I am knowledge, the light — and they are my warmth. What would the sun be if it only gave light and not warmth? What would the sun be if it only gave warmth and did not dispel the dark? I am the sun of the human soul."

"They call me Work," said the blacksmith. "I am the servant, the friend, the companion, and the teacher of all those who came before me. I am Work — always with them, always at their side."

The image vanished, and in its place appeared a third one. Here too stood six figures. At their head was a beggar woman dressed in rags, her face gray, her eyes narrowed in a scornful gaze. She bent her knees slightly, lowered the filthy, tattered hem of her dress, and stretched one leg forward, as if in a dance. Beside her stood a pale man who had lost all trace of humanity, with the face of a drunk and eyes filled with hatred. Farther off stood a young woman in filthy clothes, with an empty gaze and a vacant smile on her lips. Behind her stood a drunken young man, his battered cap askew on his head.
His hands were shoved into the pockets of his torn trousers. After them appeared a young woman in rags, a man in handcuffs, and a child with a cigarette in his mouth.

" I am Disbelief," began the beggar woman. "I believe in nothing. It’s all nonsense. I laugh at you and at myself, at my rags and at my poverty. See, I dance."

"I am Hatred," said the drunk. "I hate everyone and everything. Don’t get close to me when I’m drunk — I spit, and my spit is soaked in poison."

"I am Stupidity," stammered the filthy girl. She opened her mouth to say something else, but no words came out — only a foolish grin spread across her face.

"They call me Frivolity, ho ho!" said the drunken youth. "Ho ho! I don’t care about any of your talk.
Just give me vodka, ho ho ho! I don’t need anything more. Drinking is bad, unhealthy, immoral — ho!
What a joke."

"I am Ignorance," said the ragged young woman. "I know nothing, I’ve learned nothing. Just give me bread, because I’m hungry. I don’t know anything, I’ve never learned anything — all I know is hunger and cold."

"My name is Crime," said the man in handcuffs. "I’m shackled because I stole, I killed — bang, boom!
And the man is finished."

"And I, my friends — I am their brother, their father, their son, and their friend, finished the boy. I am their leader and their servant. I am Laziness — at your service."

The image lingered on the screen a moment longer. Mania and Antek recognized these figures.

Again, only the two children remained in the image — two orphaned children beneath the tree. Once gain the distant city took shape in the background. And the countess spoke again:

"Two children are sitting under a tree — two lonely children, orphaned children.
They sit beneath the tree and gaze at the distant city toward which they are headed, a city they do not know. Their hearts are full of curiosity, concern, and joy. What is the name of this city? The name of the city is “Life.” What will the City of Life give them?"

The presentation ended.
The children returned to their rooms.

“Lies, all lies,” thought Antek.
He couldn’t quite say where the lie lay. He didn’t know how to explain to himself what had so angered him in those images — but he felt that the lady reading the story knew nothing and understood nothing.

"Idiots" he concluded to himself. "They’ve all lost their minds, they’re all crazy. I have to escape from here."

He didn’t touch his lunch. He lay on the bed with wide-open eyes, trying to figure out where the lie was hidden — the one that had so deeply disturbed him.

"What do they know anyway?"

And the count, peering at Antek through the peephole, thought he had already won the boy’s soul — but at that very moment, he lost it for a long time.

When evening fell, Antek rose from his bed, scanned the room with his eyes, walked to the door to check if anyone was peeking through the keyhole. Then he put on his coat, opened the window, and in a single leap was in the garden. Quickly, he crossed the distance from the house to the wall.
A wide-canopied pear tree stretched its branches over the wall. Antek had already climbed the bench, grabbed onto the first branch — and then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What do you want? Let me go."

Zarutsky gently sat him down on his knees and began to speak. He spoke for a long time, fluently.
Antek did not interrupt him even once. Zarutsky’s speech grew more passionate. The tree whispered with its bare branches. A cold wind was blowing. When the count finished, Antek, after a long moment of silence, asked:

"Why are you rambling on about things you don’t understand at all, sir?"

Now Antek began to speak.
The subject of their conversation was “street children.”

"No, we’re not bad or stupid at all, it’s just that we have a different kind of good and a different kind of mind — because you learn from books, and we learn in a totally different way. We are taught by… I don’t even know what..."

"Life. People," offered Zarutsky.

"Exactly. You have one teacher, and we have a hundred. But what’s the point of talking?
All I can say is, sir — you don’t know anything about us, that’s all."

The conversation went on for a long time, while the tree kept rustling its bare branches.

"There’s a beggar and thief among us. We call him ''trump," though now he’s just a drunk.
But he used to be incredibly strong. The circus paid him twenty-five rubles to wrestle one of their fighters and let him win. The posters announced that whoever in the audience could defeat the wrestler would win five hundred rubles. He would let the guy throw him a few times, until he got bored — and then once, he threw the wrestler to the ground. And do you think, sir, he took the five hundred rubles?
“No,” he said, “the deal was that I’d let him beat me. I broke the agreement, so I don’t want the money.” And he even apologized. And the next day he was caught stealing someone’s watch. Or, for example, we’ve got small-time thieves. One guy steals something, and another gives it back to the owner — for a price. ‘Give this and that,’ he says, ‘and your thing will be in such-and-such a place.’
And there’s never been a case where he cheated anyone.
Because, sir, we have honor."

The count listened and felt that this child was opening his eyes to an entire world he had never known — neither he nor all the writers whose books he had relied on to try to understand the soul of a “street child” — and hence all the mistaken approaches to such children and the misguided philanthropy directed at them.

Antek spoke now, his eyes shining. He felt that he had impressed his strange guardian and that now he had the upper hand — and that feeling gave him great pleasure.

"We know how to be good and polite, but you have to treat us gently, because we know how to defend our dignity. Even if one of us is completely drunk and really pissed off — if someone bumps into him by accident and apologizes, he won’t say a word. But if he doesn’t apologize — woe to him. We don’t steal from just anyone. There’s this doctor who never locks his door. But if anyone tried to touch anything there, we’d know what to do. Because that doctor is good to us and knows us, and knows that we’re not as bad and not as stupid as you all think. And if someone wants to be good to us but doesn’t know us — then we “take care of him”, we trick him. I know those pictures of yours impressed Mania, and now she’s probably bawling and she’ll learn and be good. But I know those pictures are nonsense and lies. You think that if that beggar woman gets drunk and dances and says all sorts of things, she’s really happy? Sure, happy. She knows things used to be better, and now they’re bad, and she’ll die soon — so she sings and dances on purpose so no one will know how bad she really feels. Because in our world, it’s not respectable to be sad or mournful — that’s all. Why should others know I’m miserable?!
Well, I’ve talked and talked, and now I have to go."

" Stay, Antek. At least learn to read."

"Why should I read? If I learn to read, someone will have to teach me. But I don’t want anyone to teach me — because I always want to be the teacher. We’re very proud, sir."

"Then why do you beg?"

"We don’t beg. We just trick people. If I tell you the truth and you give me ten groszy — that’s called getting charity. But if I lie to you and you give me something — that’s called "fixing you," not begging. If I get something from one of our own — that means he did me a favor. You understand?"

Antek burst out laughing at the look of astonishment on the count’s face.

"We are proud people…"

"And closed off," the count added thoughtfully.

"That’s true. There’s this rag-picker woman. If you call her “Miss Zusia” — she’ll throw rocks at you.
We always tease her like that because she’s a funny lady. She wants to be called “Mrs. Mikhailova,” and she’s Mrs. Mikhailova like I’m Mister Michael. She’s so proud of her garbage work. I know you don’t understand these things, but you’re always bowing before someone — and we don’t. And you know why, sir? Because you’re afraid of being poor, and we’re not afraid of poverty at all. 
Okay, I’m on my way…

"Wait a moment. We’ll return your documents."

"No. I’ll wait here, Antek insisted. Give me back my old clothes and I’ll return your clothes."

"No, Antek. You can keep them.

"I don’t want to."

"But you untended to leave wearing them."

"That’s different: If I had escaped, that would mean I stole them, and not get them as a favor."

"I ask you to take these clothes as payment for all the new things I’ve learned from you."

"Fine. That’s different."

The count returned to the manor, and fifteen minutes later came out with the elderly servant, carrying a suitcase.

" Here are some things and books for you. Promise me, on your honor, that you won’t sell these books."

" I promise."

"And here — take some money for the road."

Antek reached out his hand. The count kissed him on the forehead.

"And if things go badly for you there, come back to us."

"And you, sir — take Yendrek Marcynowski in my place."
Antek gave him the boy’s address.

"Won’t you say goodbye to Mania?"

"Oh, no need."

The iron gate opened. They walked down the linden-lined avenue, along the beaten path, and crossed the bridge until they reached the village and approached the estate manager’s house.

" The count requests a carriage and horses."

A quarter of an hour later, Antek was riding to the train station, a cigarette between his lips — a gift from a farmhand. He blew streams of smoke straight into old Grzegorz’s nose and whistled a cheerful tune.
Since morning he’d known it would be a good day. He had “fixed,” yes, definitely fixed the count, getting fifteen rubles and a suitcase. The count had Surely packed a bunch of good stuff in there too.
He was heading back to Warsaw, back to the city — oh, what stories upon stories he has about his travels!

He wondered how they’d welcome him there, what people would say, what his father had done with the money, whether the rumor of his unusual journey had spread.
Antek sang with rising joy.

"When does the train leave?"
"You’ll have to wait half an hour."

And there they were, already past the village, past the hills, another village and then a third, then the forest and the road leading to the train station — and now he could see the railway embankment.

They were at the station.
Grzegorz ordered two glasses of tea.

"And the vodka?"
"All right."
"I’ll pay."
"No need."
"And you’re not drinking, sir?"
"No."

They drank and ate something.
Antek already had his ticket in hand. The train arrived.

"Goodbye and take care. Please thank that gentleman. Who is he anyway?"
"A count."
"A count?" Antek asked in surprise.

The train departed.
Antek sat in a half-empty third-class compartment. A peasant lay snoring on the bench, two Jews whispered to each other, and a woman was asleep with a child in her arms.

Antek stepped out onto the platform between the cars.
Suddenly, two tears welled up in his eyes, grew large, and ran down his cheeks. He had “fixed” the count, and Grzegorz — but he had concealed how much he had grown attached to them, how much he had wanted to kiss the hand of that accidental patron; to sit as he had sat on his knees, to throw his arms around his neck and cry. He had concealed how much he had truly wanted to stay with them. He had concealed all that — and now, he could cry as much as he wanted: no one was watching him.

Antek dozed a little, thought a little, dozed again until he fell into a deep sleep.
Twice he was awakened. He showed his ticket.
Once he got off to buy a bottle of vodka and nearly missed the train.
He took two gulps and felt better. His joy returned.
He was free. Completely free.
He didn’t know what he would do with his freedom, but he felt good.

He fell asleep.

He woke up.

— Warsaw!