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diff --git a/30724-h/30724-h.htm b/30724-h/30724-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d974695 --- /dev/null +++ b/30724-h/30724-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10457 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + +<head> +<title>Absolution</title> +<meta name="Author" content="Clara Viebig"> +<meta name="Publisher" content="John Lane"> +<meta name="Date" content="1908"> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +body { + line-height:150%; + font-size: 14pt; + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + background-color:#FFFFFF +} + +p.normal { + text-indent:.25in; + text-align: justify; +} +p.center { + text-align:center; + margin-top:9pt; +} + + +p.right { + text-align:right; + margin-top: 9pt; +} +p.continue { + text-indent: 0in; + margin-top:9pt; +} +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold +} + + +span.sc { font-variant: small-caps } +span.space {letter-spacing: 10pt; } + +hr.ftn { text-align:left; width:30%; margin-top:48pt; color:black; } +div.ftn { font-size: 100%; margin-top:9pt; color:#000000} +sup.ftnRef {font-size:100%; color:black; } +p.ftnText { margin-left: 3em; text-indent: -1em; margin-top:14pt; text-align:justify; } +div.ftnlast { font-size: 90%; margin-top:9pt; margin-bottom:64pt; color:#000000} + + + +.pagenum { + display: inline; + font-size:80%; + text-align: left; + position: absolute; left: 1%; +} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Absolution, by Clara Viebig + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Absolution + +Author: Clara Viebig + +Translator: H. Raahauge + +Release Date: December 21, 2009 [EBook #30724] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABSOLUTION *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Bowen + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg i]</span></p> + + + + +<h1>ABSOLUTION</h1> + + + + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg ii]</span></p> +<p class="continue">[Blank Page]</p> + + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg iii]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>ABSOLUTION</h1> +<br> +<br> +<h2>BY CLARA VIEBIG</h2> +<h3>TRANSLATED BY</h3> +<h3>H. RAAHAUGE</h3> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h4>LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD<br> +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY. MCMVIII</h4> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg iv]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>PLYMOUTH: WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD., PRINTERS</h5> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg v]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>ABSOLUTION</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 1]</span> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h1>ABSOLUTION</h1> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">"The rats! Ugh, the rats!" cried beautiful Mrs. Tiralla, as +she stood in the cellar with her maid. They had gone down to fetch some of the +pickled cabbage from the tub in the corner in order to cook it, and the maid was +carrying the lamp whilst Mrs. Tiralla held the earthenware dish. But now she let +it fall with a piercing shriek, and lifted her skirts so high that you could see +her gay-coloured, striped stockings, and her neat feet encased in shiny leather +slippers.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where are the rats?" The maid laughed and showed all her big +white teeth. "I can't see any rats. There are none here, Pani," and she looked +at her mistress with a half stupid, half cunning leer on her face. "Pani must +have been dreaming, there's not a living thing in the cellar except Pani and +Marianna. Sh! sh! hark!" She bent her head and listened for a moment; then she +shook it and laughed again. "Rats would patter, but there's no sound of +anything."</p> + +<p class="normal">She raised the lamp, so that the light shone all around. +Gliding shadows fell on the black walls gleaming with moisture, and showed up +the cracks in +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 2]</span> +the rough masonry, the places where the bricks were crumbling away, and the dark +corners in which hung big spider-webs. It was the old cellar of an old house in +which the two women were standing, and a very neglected one to boot. It had +never been cleared. Turf and coals, all higgledy-piggledy, were stored away near +the tub containing the <i>Sauerkraut</i>; and amongst the many wine bottles that +lay scattered about on the floor there were just as many empty ones as full +ones. The shelves, which once upon a time had reached half-way up the cellar +walls, had fallen to pieces, and were now nothing but a heap of rotting wood. +All kinds of rubbish lay amongst the potatoes, and broken hooks, broomsticks, +and old pieces of pot stuck out of the sand, into which, here and there, a +bundle of herbs had been carelessly thrust, in order to keep it through the +winter. The place had never been aired, as there was nothing but a very small +grating right at the top, which was never opened; and it smelt foul. The lamp +gave a dim light, as though stifled by the mustiness, and the two figures--the +clumsy figure of the maid and the more dainty one of the mistress--were +encircled by a vaporous, glimmering mist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But there are <i>rats</i> here, do you see, do you hear? +Ugh!" Mrs. Tiralla again gave a loud shriek, her face was pale, and, opening her +sparkling eyes wide as if with terror, she seized hold of the girl's arm. "There +was one! Ugh! Horrid animal!" She shook herself and gave a jump, as if one of +the long-tailed monsters were already creeping up her warm body.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy Mother!" As though infected with the exaggerated fear of +her mistress, the maid now also gave a shrill scream and let the lamp fall, as +her mistress +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span> +before the dish. It broke into many pieces and went out. They stood in pitch +darkness.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You stupid girl!" screamed her mistress nervously, and raised +her hand as if to strike her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid ducked down and jumped aside, as though she could see +the lifted hand in spite of the darkness; her suppressed chuckling was heard in +a distant corner of the cellar.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If Pani is going to hit me, ha-ha! I shall stop here, ha-ha!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nonsense. Hit you? I shouldn't think of such a thing," +protested Mrs. Tiralla, trying to conciliate her. "Just come here. Give me your +hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, no, no! I am sure Pani will hit me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give me your hand, I say--at once. I'm not going to do +anything to you, stupid. Marianna, where are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Beautiful Mrs. Tiralla now seemed to be seized with real +terror--a terror that was much more genuine than before. Her voice trembled with +anxiety, her bosom heaved and sank rapidly; one moment she felt quite cold and +the next her head burnt. Ugh! how dark it was. Just like a grave! She felt icy +cold right down her back. Ah, how dreadful to be here in the dark, quite alone +with <i>those</i> thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Marianna!" She cried so loudly that it echoed from the +vaulted roof. "Marianna, where are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Marianna, I'll give you my silk apron which you like so much. +Marianna, but where are you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, I'm here. I only went a couple of steps away from you. +Here, Pani, here." The girl's warm hand seized hold of her mistress's cold, +moist fingers, "So that Pani doesn't knock against anything," she whispered in +an ingratiating voice.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Thus hand-in-hand the two women groped their way in the dark, +until they came to the cellar steps.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Praise be to the Holy Mother and all the saints!" lisped Mrs. +Tiralla as she felt the first step of the slippery stone stairs under her feet. +Fifteen steep steps more, and then, thank God, they would be at the top. Then it +would be light again. And the dark thoughts would remain below in the darkness. +She did not shudder now, when she was almost at the top; on the contrary, she +could hardly help laughing, for she had at last succeeded in thoroughly +frightening Marianna, who now firmly believed in rats. So she made up her mind +that she would not scold the girl on account of the lamp. The thing was now to +go on talking and complaining a great, great deal about the rats, so that +everybody would soon say: "There are so many rats at Starydwór, in Anton +Tiralla's house, that they dance on his benches and tables, that they devour his +wheat on the barn floor whilst it's being thrashed, that they've nibbled at the +mistress's beautiful dress in her wardrobe--her blue silk one, trimmed with +lace." That would be splendid, splendid!</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla squeezed the girl's hand with a deep sigh of +relief. "You see now that there are rats, although you would never believe it +before; oh, ever so many."</p> + +<p class="normal">"When Pani says there are rats, then there are rats," said the +girl in a submissive tone of voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla did not notice the smile that made the big mouth +under the snub nose still bigger, nor the cunning, lurking gleam that flashed in +the small, deep-set eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ha-ha!" laughed the maid to herself, "did the Pani really +think she was so stupid? Rats <i>had</i> to be +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span> +here. The Pani wished rats to be here; the Pani tried to make-believe that rats +were here. Well, let people who were more stupid than she was believe it, for +she, Marianna Śroka, was much too clever, nobody could humbug her. The mistress +must have some reason for saying it, for there were no rats."</p> + +<p class="normal">She pretended, however, to agree with her mistress, and when +they saw daylight again she shuddered and said: "Pani is quite pale with fright. <i> +Psia krew</i>, those horrible animals! They'll soon be eating the hair off our +heads."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla nodded. Then she said, "You can come to my room +afterwards, and I'll give you the apron I've promised you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"And the lace," said the maid, "the lace which the Pani showed +me the other day, I'll put it on my apron."</p> + +<p class="normal">"My lace on your apron!" Mrs. Tiralla's pale face grew red +with anger. "Are you mad?" "Oh, only a little bit of it--there's only a little +bit left. What can Pani do with such a little bit? It's not worth keeping." And +then the girl gave a loud, bold laugh, and added, "Then I'll say that Pani has +given me it, as the rats would otherwise have devoured it. There are so many +rats, the rats devour everything here."</p> + +<p class="normal">A thought flashed through Mrs. Tiralla's mind, "How +impertinent she was! What did she suspect? What did she know?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The two women stared at each other for a few seconds as though +they wished to read each other's thoughts. But then they both smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Pani can rely upon me," the servant's smile seemed to +say. "I'll pretend to be stupid: I'll hear nothing, see nothing, know nothing, +just as it suits the Pani."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">And the mistress's smile said: "That girl is so stupid, +there's no need to fear her. She doesn't notice anything, she believes what is +said to her. And even if she should notice something, she can be bought at a +pinch with an apron, a bit of ribbon, a morsel of lace, or half a gulden."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now we've broken the dish, and there's no <i>Sauerkraut</i> +for dinner, Marianna," said Mrs. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never mind, Pani," and the black-haired girl laughed until +her narrow, sparkling eyes quite disappeared behind her prominent cheek-bones. +"I'll go down in the cellar by myself with another dish and fetch up some +'kapusta'; Pani needn't fear the rats. And if he," with a short nod in the +direction of the nearest door, "should say, 'Why are the dish and the lamp +broken?' I'll answer, 'Oh, an accursed rat jumped over our hands and bit the +Pani's hand and my nose. There are so many rats in the cellar that you can't go +down any more with safety." "That's right," said Mrs. Tiralla, and smiled +contentedly. "There's so much vermin in this old house that it's quite dreadful. +And we've cockroaches as well in the kitchen----"</p> +<p class="normal">"The walls are covered with them every evening," the girl +chimed in eagerly. "The <i>gospodarz</i> had better come to my kitchen some +evening, when the light's out, and see it for himself, and then <i>he'll</i> +say, 'Ugh!' They fly at your head, and into your face, and against your nose, +eyes, and ears. They crawl about everywhere--ugh!" She threw her apron over her +head and gave a loud shriek.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew</i>, what a noise! Confound you, woman, can't +you hold your tongue for five seconds, not for those few moments when I want to +sleep?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The door of the room was flung open and the master +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span> +began scolding the maid in an angry voice. But when he caught sight of his wife +behind the girl his tone became gentler, even anxious. "What is it, what is it?" +For Mrs. Tiralla had also screamed, as if in sudden terror. "Why do you both +scream so? My heart! why do you both scream so? What <i>has</i> +happened? Why, you're quite pale. Tell me, my Sophia, what's happened to you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">You could see that this big man, with his strong limbs and +ruddy-brown face, was very anxious about his wife, and, after hitching up his +trousers (for he knew that she disliked him to take off his braces and make +himself comfortable. "Fie, what a boor you are!" she would then say to him), he +quickly approached her. "What on earth has happened to you? Tell me."</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman's black eyes stared at him out of her pale face. +"Holy Mother, the rats again!" she stammered, and stretched out her hands as +though she wanted to seize hold of something.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Mr. Tiralla burst out laughing. "Rats? But, my dear +little woman, there are always rats where there are pigs; and why shouldn't +there be some here on the farm? If it's nothing but that." He laughed +good-naturedly. "I thought you must have seen the little Plucka,<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_7a" +href="#ftn_7a">[A]</a></sup> or the 'Babok,' the black man, in the cellar. Why +didn't you say, 'All good spirits praise God!' and then the rats would also have +ran away?"</p> + +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_7a" href="#ftnRef_7a"><sup class="ftnRef">A</sup></a> + Plucka: a ghost with feet like a hen.</p></div> +<br> +<p class="normal">"Don't blaspheme," she said in an icy tone. "God punish you +for so doing." And when he playfully tried to embrace her, and pushed his +enormous, hairy hand under her chin, she shrank back, and, holding her apron up +to her eyes, she burst into tears. She sobbed bitterly.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was in vain that the man tried to pull the apron away; she +held it firmly pressed against her face. Her slender fingers, which for a +farmer's wife were singularly soft, had an enormous power of resistance.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt quite dismayed. "My heart, my dove, Sophia, what is +the matter with you?" He tried in vain to catch a glimpse of her face. "Confound +you, woman, why are you grinning?" he suddenly roared, turning to the maid who +was still standing in the same place with a broad smile on her face. "Drat you! +it's you who have vexed the mistress."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no, Panje, not I. It was the rats, I swear it. If only +the <i>gospodarz</i> would go down into the cellar he would see for himself how +they run on the floor and jump up the walls. And in my kitchen he can see the +cockroaches--hundreds of thousands, hundred thousand millions of them! Some day +they'll fall into Pan Tiralla's food, and then the master will see them for +himself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just you try to do it!" Tiralla raised his heavy hand as if +to strike the maid, but she evaded him as adroitly as she before had evaded her +mistress. It was so ludicrous to see her duck down behind her mistress and make +use of her as a bulwark, that the uncouth man roared with laughter. "You needn't +fear, you idiot," he said good-naturedly. "I'm not going to hit you. I know very +well that you're a little devil, but I don't for a moment think you'll put any +dirt into my plate."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, no," she assured him ingenuously, "I won't do that," and +she came out from behind her mistress.</p> + +<p class="normal">He pinched her firm cheek with his hairy hand. It hurt, and +his rough fingers first left a white, then a burning red mark; but she put up +with it in silence. No, the <i>gospodarz</i> wasn't angry. He was really much +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 9]</span> +better than his wife. All at once Marianna thought that her master was to be +pitied. She drew a little nearer to him and threw him a glance full of promise +from under her half-closed lids. If the old man wanted she was quite willing.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Tiralla had only eyes for his wife. He continued to beg +for a look from her. There was something ridiculous in the way this strong, +already grey-haired man worried about this delicate, dainty little woman. +"Sophia, my darling, what is the matter? Look at me, my dove, pray don't cry."</p> + +<p class="normal">He succeeded at length in taking the apron away from her face. +But when he tried to kiss her cheek her eyes sparkled, and she spat at him like +an angry cat. "Oh, you've hurt me! Pooh, how you smell of manure and tobacco, +and of gin, too. You stink, you boor!" And she spat on the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"My darling," he said quite sadly, "what things you do say. I +have only drunk one small--really, only one quite small glass--of gin to-day. I +swear it by the Holy Mother."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't pollute the Holy Mother by calling on her," she cried +in a cutting voice. "Rather blaspheme her, that she sends you the sooner to +hell, where you belong. I shall not shed a single tear for you, I swear that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What--what have I done to you?" the man stammered, quite +terrified. "I've never done anything to you. I've bought you dresses, as many as +you liked; I've taken you to balls as often as you liked; I've let you dance +with whom you liked; I've never said 'no' when you've said 'yes'; and now you +speak so horridly to me. You're ill, my dear; I'll send for the doctor."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, ill!" she cried, sobbing bitterly. "You've made me +ill--you, you, you!" She rushed at him +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 10]</span> +as though she wanted to scratch his face with her nails. "I don't like you! I +detest you! I--I hate you!" she shrieked in a piercing voice. Her eyes sparkled; +she clenched her hands and struck her breast, and then she thrust all her +fingers into her beautifully smooth hair and tore it out. Her dainty figure +trembled and swayed, and she turned so pale that he thought she was going to +faint.</p> + +<p class="normal">The servant opened her eyes in amazement. What was the matter +with her? Oh, how stupid she was, how stupid! Why shout it at the master if he +hadn't noticed anything? Ay, now she had told him plainly enough--"I hate you!" +And he, poor man (may God console him!), what did he do? Was it a laughing or a +crying matter? Marianna Śroka did not know if she should think "Oh, you arrant +fool!" or if she should wish, "If only he were <i>my</i> husband, or, at least, +my lover." For the <i>gospodarz</i> was good, thoroughly good; he wouldn't +stint, her--her and her two little ones. That woman was really too nasty. She +didn't deserve such a good husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hitherto her mistress had always had her sympathy, but in a +sudden revulsion of feeling she now felt much more drawn towards her master. It +was a shame how that woman treated him. She must really have bewitched him, that +he put up with such things. It would be better if he took off his big, leather +slipper, with the wooden heel, and hit her over the head with it and stunned +her, rather than that he should beg and implore in that way. Oh, yes, of course +there was no doubt about it, the master was enchanted; the big, stout man had +been bewitched by that little woman, that lean goat. She was a "mora," who could +change herself into a cat, or into one of those creatures that fly down the +chimney on a broomstick. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span> +The priest ought to know it; he would soon put a spoke into her wheel. But there +was a better plan than that. She, Marianna, would take the matter into her own +hands, then she alone would earn the gratitude of Pan Tiralla. She would take +the tip of her shift and rub the bewitched man's forehead with it three times, +and then the spell would leave him. And who knows what then might happen? +Perhaps he might turn the woman out of the house then, as she was so horrid to +him, and always slept in another room, and banged the door in his face. Wasn't +he as strong as an ox? Wasn't he rather a fine-looking man? Even if his hair +were bristly and already grey, and his eyes rather watery, he was still a man +for all that. And he had money--oh, such a lot. The servant's heart beat more +rapidly when she thought of it. All the shops in Gradewitz could be bought up +with it, and those in Gnesen as well, and--who knows?--perhaps even those in +Posen. What a pity it was that this woman, this witch, would some day get all +that money. The maid cast a sidelong look at her mistress, which made her pretty +but coarse face positively ugly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Sophia Tiralla stood weeping. Her shoulders drooped so +dejectedly, and her head was bent so low, that you would have thought all the +cares of the world were weighing her down. Her husband had given up his useless +attempts to approach her, he stood as if rooted to the spot, and his pale blue, +sleepy eyes wandered from the woman to the maid, and then from the maid to the +woman in perplexed surprise.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only I knew what was the matter, darling," he said at last +in a dispirited voice. "Good heavens! what flea has bitten you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The servant burst into a loud guffaw. How very comical it +sounded. She couldn't compose herself +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span> +again, it really was too funny. A flea.--ha-ha, a flea! She thrust her fist into +her mouth and bit it, so as to suppress her laughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her mistress cast her an angry look. "How dare you? Go to your +work. <i>Dalej</i>, <i>dalej.</i>"</p> +<p class="normal">The maid grew frightened. Ugh, how furious her mistress +looked! Her glance was as cold as steel. "Let that wicked look fall on the dog!" +she murmured, protecting her face with her arm. And then the thought came to +her, "Oh, dear, now she won't give me that apron!" All the same, it was better +to keep on good terms with the mistress, she was the one who ruled the house. So +she whispered in a tone of excuse:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm sorry, Pani, but it was so funny when <i>gospadarz</i>--big, +fat <i>gospodarz</i>--compared himself to a tiny little flea. I couldn't help +it, I had to laugh." And she gave a waggish laugh, in which Mrs. Tiralla this +time joined. There was something merciless in the laughter of the two women.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla did not notice the mercilessness of it in his +delight at seeing his wife in a better humour. He took her by the hand as if +nothing had happened, and drew her into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">And she allowed him to draw her in. If he, even now, didn't +notice that she hated him, in spite of all she had done, didn't even notice it +when she told him it to his face, then he should feel it. It was his own fault. +A cruel smile played for a moment round her short upper lip, but then the tears +again started to her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">As she was sitting there with him--he had tried to draw her on +his knee, but she had adroitly evaded him, and had squeezed herself in between +the table and the wall, so that he could not reach her so easily--certain +thoughts were chasing each other with frightful +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span> +rapidity through her brain. She had often thought them out before, but they +always made her tremble anew. A deep silence reigned in the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla did not desire any further entertainment. It +was enough for him if she were there, if he had the feeling that he only +required to stretch out his arm in order to grasp her with his strong hand, to +draw her to him, to caress her, even if she did not want it. After all, he was +the stronger. He had thrown himself full length on the bench near the stove, but +he could scarcely find room there for his huge limbs, which stuck out on all +sides. He sighed. He had already tramped across his fields that morning, and had +seen that the winter corn was getting on all right, had heard the busy flails +keeping time in the barn, had looked for a long time at the cows chewing the cud +in the shed, and had stroked his two splendid horses. That had, indeed, been a +day's work. Now he had a perfect right to rest a little. Besides, there was snow +in the air, a big, thick, grey silence outside; so it was much more comfortable +to lie in the warm room until the <i>barschtsch</i>, and the cabbage and the +sausages were brought in. And after dinner it would be nice to lie down again, +until it was time to go to the village inn. There he would meet the gentry, +sometimes even the priest. His Reverence didn't disdain to drink a glass with +them now and then, and talk over the news, although he didn't care for it to be +mentioned later on that he had been there. Quite a sociable man, that priest, +and not so strict as Sophia by a long way. Mr. Tiralla felt quite friendly +towards him. <i>He</i> wouldn't cast his wickedness in his teeth. Ah, Sophia +really did exaggerate. Didn't he go to Mass every Sunday, and every festival, +too? Nobody could really expect him to go to matins as well; +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span> +hadn't he to get out of his bed much too early both summer and winter as it was? +And weren't his particular saints hanging in his room; and wasn't he always +ready to give what the Church demanded? There was no reason for him to be a +hypocrite into the bargain; and when a man has got a pretty wife he wants to see +something of her as well. So it would be difficult for her to blacken him in the +priest's eyes, as he very well knew what a healthy man required.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla stretched his mighty limbs and opened his arms +wide. Then he said, "Just come here, darling."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man's spirit of enterprise vanished as he heard her icy +tone. "Why don't you speak more kindly to me?" he said despondently. "You know I +don't want anything from you. I--I only wanted to ask you if you would like a +new dress for St. Stephen's Day? Or what would you say to a pair of ear-rings? +Or would you, perhaps, like a new fur cloak when we drive to Posen to engage +servants?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't want anything," she answered in the same cold voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just think it over, something will be sure to occur to you," +he said encouragingly. "Only let me know what you want. Nothing will be too +expensive for me if it's for you. Come, little woman, do come here." He again +opened his arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she did not move.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't you want a new dress? I saw some beautiful materials in +Gnesen. Rosenthal has a wonderful display in his window--oh my, such finery! +Cherry-coloured cloth and black braid to trim it with. The prefect's wife wears +such a dress on Sundays. Wouldn't you like to have the same, darling?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 15]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes began to sparkle. New dresses! A dress like such a +fine lady! She took a fancy to it; but only for a few moments, then the light in +her eyes again died out. What was the good of that dress at the side of such a +man? She shook her head energetically as she answered: "I won't have one."</p> + +<p class="normal">He saw he would never attain his object in that way. Although +Mr. Tiralla hated getting up he soon saw that he would have to squeeze himself +down beside her behind the table or drag her out by main force. And then if she +cried out, that lovely little dove, "Go away! Leave me, you beast!" then he +would have to close her mouth with a kiss, by main force.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla cursed as he put one of his big feet down on the +ground. It vexed him to have his peace disturbed in this way; but he could not +resist her, she was too charming. He groaned as he rose from his seat.</p> + +<p class="normal">She noted his approach with terror. Oh, now he would clasp +those big white arms round her, which were all covered with downy hairs, those +arms into which her mother had delivered her whilst she was still young and +harmless, and had only thought of the dear saints, and had felt no desire for +any man. Now she was no longer young and harmless, and--a sudden thought flashed +through her brain--oh, perhaps she could persuade him to buy poison then! Poison +for the rats! She had often broached the subject before, but he had never wanted +to do it. He did not believe in the rats, and even if they were to jump over his +nose he would not bring any poison into the house. The thought was repugnant to +him. When she wanted poison for the vermin on the farm she had never been able +to get it, except by producing a paper signed by Mr. Tiralla himself.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 16]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She shuddered. She shook as though with terror. "Oh, those +rats!" Then she got up hesitatingly. She sat down again, as if undecided--she +fell back almost heavily into her chair; but then she gave herself a jerk. She +rose quickly, went up to her husband, and sat down on his knee.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sudden change in her almost disconcerted him. But then he +felt very happy. She had not been so nice to him for ever so long. She stroked +his head, and he leant his forehead against her soft bosom, and felt it heave.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How fast your heart beats."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No wonder," she answered shortly. And then she kissed his +bristly hair and fondled him. "My old man, my darling, you'll really buy me a +new dress? Really?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He nodded eagerly, he was too comfortable to speak.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I should like," she continued, pressing his head still more +firmly against her bosom, "I should like to wear such a cherry-coloured dress, +trimmed with black braid, as the prefect's wife has. If she saw me in it in +Gradewitz, or if your acquaintances in the town saw me, wouldn't they say, 'How +well red suits Mrs. Tiralla. What a pretty wife Anton Tiralla has'!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He smirked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But what good would it be to me?" she continued, and her +voice sank and became quite feeble. "The rats would devour it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Drat the rats! Leave them alone!" He jumped up angrily, in +spite of his great love for her; she had bothered him too often and too much +with her rats. "To the devil with you and your everlasting rats!" Once for all +poison should never come into his house; rather a thousand rats than one grain +of poison. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 17]</span> +Where there's poison the Evil One has a hand in the game.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she again forced his head down on her bosom. He <i>must</i> +remain there. It was as if he were being bewitched by her hands as they played +about on his head.</p> + +<p class="normal">He stammered like a child. "Leave the rats alone. Give me a +kiss--there, there." He pointed to the back of his ears, to this place, that +place, and she pinched her eyes together and pressed her mouth to his hair.</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew a deep and trembling breath, as if she were +struggling for air. She opened wide her firmly closed eyes and stared at one +particular point--always at one point. It must be! Then she said with a voice +that sounded like a caress, while her face, which he could not see, was +distorted with aversion:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Would you like to sleep, darling? There, lean on my arm. Let +Marianna do the work alone, I'll stop with you. Oh, my darling, I'm so +frightened."</p> + +<p class="normal">She clung to him more closely, so closely that her warm body +seemed to wind itself round him. "The rats, ugh!" She gave a trembling sigh. +"Those horrid rats! We'll put poison, won't we, darling? Poison for rats; but +soon, or I shall die of fright."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 18]</span> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla's farm lay some distance from the village, near +the big pines and deep morass of Przykop. Starydwór was a large farm, and there +were many in Starawieś who envied Mrs. Tiralla. She had been as poor as a church +mouse before her marriage--her mother was the widow of a village +schoolmaster--and had not even possessed six sets of under-linen and a cart full +of kitchen utensils, and now she had so much money! But however much her enemies +might wish her ill, nobody had ever been able to say of her that she had been +unfaithful to her old husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">The farmer was already getting on in years when he married +her, and was a widower into the bargain with a big son. "That couldn't have been +an easy matter either for the little thing," said those who were friendly +towards Mrs. Tiralla. But she had behaved very well; anyhow, Mr. Tiralla had +grown stout, and used to tell those who had warned him against proposing to the +girl of seventeen, "that his Sophia was the sweetest woman in creation, and that +he was living in clover." And he still said so, even now, after they had been +married almost fifteen years. She had bewitched him. Her big eyes, that gleamed +like dark velvet in her white face, played the fool with him. He could not be +angry with her, although she often tried him sorely. And, all things considered, +wasn't it rather nice of her that she was so coy and reserved? The owner of +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 19]</span> +Starydwór had, in the course of his life, come across enough women who had +thrown themselves at his head. He could not even credit Hanusia, his first wife, +with a similar modesty.</p> + +<p class="normal">And his Sophia was pretty. It flattered the elderly man's +vanity immensely that nobody ever spoke of her as "Mrs. Tiralla," plain and +simple, but always as "the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla." When he drove with her +through Gradewitz--he on the box, she on the seat behind, in her veil and +feather boa--everybody stared. And even in Gnesen the officers dining at the +hotel used to rush to the window and crane their necks in order to see the +beautiful Mrs. Tiralla drive past. Then Mr. Tiralla would crack his whip and +look very elated. Let them envy him his wife. <i>They</i> did not know--nobody +knew--that he many an evening had received such a vigorous blow on the chest +from her, when he had attempted to approach her, as nobody would ever have given +such a delicate-looking woman credit for. On such occasions he would console +himself with the thought that his Sophia never had cared for love-making. But +she was a dear little woman, all the same, a beautiful woman, his own sweet +wife, from whose hand the food tasted twice as good and agreed with him twice as +well. And she was still as beautiful as on the first day; perhaps even more so +now that she was over thirty, for she used to be much too thin and small, and +did not weigh even seven stone. He could have carried her on his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">He would have loved to deck her out in gay colours, like a +show-horse, but she had the tastes of a lady. That was because she had had a +good education. She spoke German very fluently, and could also write it without +a single mistake. She knew quite long pieces of poetry by heart. She could speak +of Berlin, although +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 20]</span> +she had never been there, and that made a wonderful impression upon her husband. +Gnesen and Posen and Breslau were also big towns, but Berlin--<i>Berlin</i>! He +felt very ignorant compared with her, although in his youth he had gone to the +Agricultural College at Samter, and had understood pretty well how to make +something out of the five hundred acres he had inherited from his father. The +children--the son of his first wife and little Rosa--would never be obliged to +earn their living among strangers. And, what was of more importance still, his +beloved Sophia's future would be secured if he died before her, for he had made +a will in her favour, as he had promised her mother he would.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Kluge had been able to close her eyes in peace, fully +satisfied with having brought about this splendid match for her pretty daughter, +for it was her wisdom and circumspection which had paved the way for it. Mrs. +Kluge was of a better family than most of her neighbours. She had originally +come from Breslau, but after her marriage with the schoolmaster from Posen she +had had to wander about with him from one miserable Polish village to another, +and had always been very poor. However, she had never allowed her little Sophia +to play in the street with the other children, and the child had always had +shoes and stockings to wear--rather suffer hunger in secret than go without +them.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Sophia grew older, and the time drew near for her to +receive the Holy Sacrament for the first time, she became the priest's avowed +favourite. Mrs. Kluge was a pious woman, perhaps the most pious woman in +Gradewitz, and whilst making dresses for the farmers' wives in order to support +herself and her child her lips used to move the whole time in +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 21]</span> +silent prayer. It was owing to her dressmaking that she had become acquainted +with farmer Tiralla's wife--maybe also owing to her piety. For did it not seem +as if it were Providence itself that had brought Mr. Tiralla as well as his wife +to her room when she was making Mrs. Tiralla's last dress? He had driven his +wife over--she was in delicate health at the time--and, as it was bitterly cold, +he had come in as well, and had left the horse standing outside. He could hardly +get through the low door, and had quite filled her small room. Little Sophia was +handing her mother the pins whilst the dress was being tried on, and had +received a shilling and a look from Mr. Tiralla which had made her blush and +lower her dark eyes without knowing the reason why.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sophia Kluge was modest; no young fellow in the neighbourhood +could boast of being in her good graces. She did not even know why the lads and +lasses used to steal out into the fields in the evenings, and why their tender +songs should rise so plaintively to the starry skies. Sophia, with the black +eyes and white face, which no sun, no country air had ever tanned, for she had +always remained at home with her mother, was a pious child, so pious that the +priest, still a young man with saint-like face, took a great deal of notice of +her. He would send for this girl of eleven to come to him in his study, which +the old housekeeper only got leave to enter three times a year. There he would +speak to her of the joys of the angels and of the Heavenly Bridegroom, and +enrapture himself and her with descriptions of heaven and of the streams of love +which had flowed through the hearts of all the saints.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Kluge was proud of the preference shown to her daughter; +but the salvation of her soul did not make her lose sight of her earthly lot. +She had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 22]</span> +suffered many privations in her life, and had had to give up very much, and she +wished her daughter to have some enjoyment even on this earth. It seemed to her +like a sign from the saints that Mrs. Tiralla was prematurely delivered of a +child and died before she had worn her new dress. Then Mr. Tiralla began to look +out for another wife, and when he came in person to pay the outstanding account +for the dress, the clever woman noticed the complacent smile which he cast at +the young beauty. She was well aware of her daughter's beauty, and knew how to +value it. When Mr. Tiralla said to her, "Your daughter is devilish +good-looking," she had answered, "Ah, but she's still so young." And when he +came once more and said, "<i>Psia krew</i>, how sad it is to live alone on such +a dreary farm," the wise woman replied, "You'll have to marry again. There are +plenty of widows and elderly spinsters who would be pleased to marry you." That +had angered him. He neither wanted widows nor elderly spinsters, he coveted the +youngest of them all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sophia had run to the priest and had wept and lamented when +her mother had said to her, "Be happy, Mr. Tiralla wants to marry you." No, she +wouldn't have him, she didn't want to marry at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even now, after the lapse of fifteen years, Mrs. Tiralla's +heart swelled with bitterness when she lay awake at night and thought of the way +she had been treated. Her mother had begged and implored her with tears in her +eyes. "We shall then be out of all our misery." And when the girl continued to +shake her head she had boxed her ears--the right and the left +indiscriminately--and had told her in a peremptory voice, "You <i>shall</i> +marry Mr. Tiralla."</p> + +<p class="normal">And her friend, the priest? Ah! Mrs. Tiralla once +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 23]</span> +more pictured herself in that quiet room in which, with hot cheeks and +enraptured gaze, she had so often listened, on her knees, to the legends of the +saints. Once more she held the hem of the cassock between her fingers and +watered it with her tears. She had wept, had resisted: "No, I will not marry +him, I cannot!" Had not the priest always told her--nay, positively adjured +her--to remain a virgin, to remain unmarried, and in this way secure for herself +a place in heaven? She had kissed his hands, "Help me, advise me!" Then, she did +not know herself how it had happened, then she had suddenly jumped up from her +knees, confused and trembling, and had rushed to the door and had hidden her +face in a tumult of undreamt-of feelings, which had almost stunned her with +their sudden attack. All at once she was no longer a girl, she was a woman, who, +trembling, ardent, feverish with desire, had become self-conscious. How blissful +it was to be a--<i>his</i> chosen one. To sit all one's life in that quiet room +with the saints. In the girl's confused dreams the figure of her Heavenly Friend +seemed to mingle with that of her earthly one. Oh, how exquisite he was, how +beautiful! His hands were like ivory, his cheeks like velvet. And his kiss----</p> + +<p class="normal">Instead of him Mr. Tiralla had come----</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had placed a footstool in her bedroom under her +picture of the Saviour carrying His flaming heart in His hand. The priest of her +youth had left Starawieś long ago--he had asked to be removed from the +neighbourhood--but she still prayed a great deal.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was the morning after Mr. Tiralla had drunk a glass too +much in his joy at her unusual display of tenderness, and as she got out of bed +her first glance fell on the picture opposite. She crossed herself, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 24]</span> +then, gliding on her bare feet to the footstool, she knelt down and prayed for a +long time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had promised her faithfully, as he yesterday lay +in her arms, that he would fill up the paper to-day and would drive over to +Gnesen and fetch the poison for the rats himself. How was it that she felt so +quiet about it? She could not understand it herself. Even if her heart did beat +a little faster, it was not from fear, but only from expectation of something +good, joyful, long hoped for. Fifteen years--ah, fifteen long years.</p> + +<p class="normal">She continued to murmur words of prayer, whilst her thoughts +were with her husband on his way to the chemist's in Gnesen. But suddenly she +pressed her lips tightly together. Her mouth looked very inflexible. She forgot +that she was praying--her heart was filled with fierce curses and accusations. +Her mother, who had sold her--sold her like one sells a young calf (why not call +a spade a spade?)--was dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Kluge had not long been able to enjoy the thought that +the little house which she had formerly rented at last was hers, and that she +had no longer to make dresses at any price for the farmers' wives, who were +everlastingly grumbling. She had not long been able to enjoy the thought, and +that served her right!</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman's eyes gleamed as though with satisfaction. Her +mother had had to leave everything behind which she had stipulated for as +payment for her daughter. Now she had long ago turned to dust. But the other +culprit, the buyer? Oh, Mr. Tiralla had grown stout, <i>he</i> did not look as +though he also would soon be lying under ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy saints! Holy Mother!" She raised her hands in prayer. +She did not exactly know how she was to put her prayer into words, it would +sound too +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 25]</span> +awful if she were to say, "Let him die; he <i>must</i> die!" It was as though +she were going to expose herself in her nakedness to the Holy Virgin and all the +saints. No, that would not do.</p> + +<p class="normal">She let her hands fall in her perplexity. What now? But then +it suddenly occurred to her, why need she tell everything to the saints? Why +trouble them? Surely it would be enough if she secured their help. So she +prayed: "Holy Mary, pure Virgin, oh, bring about by means of thy divine power +and that of all the saints that he really goes to Gnesen, that he at last +fetches the poison--the poison for the rats. I entreat thee, I implore thee!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She wrung her hands and wept bitterly; she hit her breast with +such force that she hurt herself. What she had suffered from her husband, and +would suffer again and again. He would not leave her in peace, and she hated +him, she loathed his eager, outstretched hands. If only she could have gone into +a convent, how happy she would have been there. All that filled her once more +with horror. She had been so terrified on her wedding night, when her husband, +intoxicated with joy and wine, had embraced her; so terrified when she felt she +was about to become a mother against her will; so terrified when the nurse had +laid the little live girl on her bosom. She had pulled herself together and +endured it when she felt the little seeking mouth at her breast, although it was +as if a stream of icy-cold water were running down her. But then, when her +husband had appeared, had placed himself near the bed in which she lay so +feeble, so weak, so at his mercy, and had said with such a satisfied smirk, "<i>Psia +krew</i>, we've done that well!" then she could not restrain herself any longer. +She had uttered a cry, a feeble, plaintive, yet piercing cry, and had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 26]</span> +reared herself up with her last strength, so that the little creature on her +breast had begun to whimper and whine like a young puppy. The nurse had hastened +to the bedside, quite terrified, and had made the sign of the cross--"All good +spirits!" No doubt she thought that the "Krasnoludki," the wicked dwarfs, wanted +to steal the new-born child. She had quickly thrown her rosary round the +infant's neck, and had sprinkled the bed with holy water. But the young mother +had burst into tears--into hopeless, never-ending tears. Then Mrs. Tiralla had +been very ill, so ill that her anxious husband had not only sent for the doctor +from Gradewitz, but also for the best physician in Gnesen. Both doctors had +assured him, however, that there was no danger, that his young wife was only +very weak and nervous.</p> +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla could not understand why.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla now got up from her prayers. It was high time to +urge her husband to start for Gnesen. Perhaps he was still lying in bed. She +dressed in angry haste. She did not arrange her thick hair with her usual +care--her hands were trembling, she was in a hurry. No sound of wheels reached +her attentive ear, the man could not be taking the carriage out of the +coach-house. Her husband must still be sleeping.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hastily throwing on her skirt, and without waiting to fasten +her blouse, she ran across the stone passage to the room into which she had been +drawn as a trembling bride, and in which her little girl had been born. There he +was, still lying in the big bed, snoring.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Get up!" She seized him by the shoulder and shook him.</p> + +<p class="normal">His hair stood up like bristles around his forehead. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 27]</span> +"How horrible he looked!" she thought. And what did the room smell of? Drink. +That disgusting smell came from him.</p> + +<p class="normal">No feeling of compassion softened her eyes. She stood bolt +upright at the side of the bed and scanned him from top to toe with sparkling +eyes. He would soon lie there again.</p> + +<p class="normal">A triumphant cry rose to her lips, but she suppressed it. +Silence, silence. What would that inquisitive maid think if she rejoiced in this +way? She seized hold of her husband once more with renewed strength, and shook +him so vigorously that he started up.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla stared around with eyes that were still quite dim. +Who was there? Why didn't they leave him in peace? He wanted to sleep longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Get up!" she shouted to him. "You've to go out. It is time, +high time!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who must go out? Not I," he stammered drowsily, and fell back +on his pillow.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was so heavy that she could not lift him; her shaking and +her cry of "Get up!" were of no avail. Then, in her anger, she poured some +icy-cold water on his face. That helped.</p> + +<p class="normal">He opened his eyes, suddenly quite wide awake. "Ah, my dove, +are you coming to me?" he said tenderly, and stretched out his arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">She hit him across his fingers. "Leave that nonsense!" she +said coldly. But then her voice grew softer. "You've promised to drive to +Gnesen, remember. It's time!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"To Gnesen--Gnesen? I'm not going there. What have I to do +there?" He had no idea of what he had said. What he had promised the day before +in his transport of joy was now quite forgotten.</p> + +<p class="normal">She saw with despair that she would have to start +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 28]</span> +afresh. She sat down on his bed, and, clenching her teeth, threw her arms round +him and began to coax him. "You promised me--to go--to the chemist's--about the +rats--you remember--the rats."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do I care for rats?" he exclaimed, laughing +boisterously. "As long as the rats don't jump on my bed they don't disturb me." +And he gave her a resounding kiss.</p> + +<p class="normal">She submitted to it with closed eyes; she was deadly pale. +Suddenly she twisted herself out of his arms, and, looking at him fixedly with +her black eyes, she said slowly and very softly, but every syllable was +distinct: "If you don't go to Gnesen now, I'll jump into the Przykop. I'll drown +myself in that big pool under the firs. I can't stand this any longer. If <i>you</i> +don't go, then <i>I</i> will."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man grew disconcerted. Why did she emphasize the words so +strangely? What did she mean by it? Such nonsense! But then he made up his mind +to go. He scolded and cursed as he got out of bed. "<i>Psia krew</i>, what +nonsense it was to get poison for the sake of those few rats; they could easily +be killed with a cudgel." He proposed to her that he should spend a whole night +in the cellar hunting for them.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she persisted in her demand. "You've promised me to do it! +You've sworn it! I'll never believe you again if you perjure yourself in this +way. I'll never allow you even to touch my fingers again if you keep your +promises so badly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, well, all right then, I'll go," he said at last. Why +did she make such a fuss of it? He put on his boots in a very bad humour.</p> + +<p class="normal">She assisted him to dress; she held his coat for him in her +eagerness to help him.</p> + +<p class="normal">But as he was putting his arms into the sleeves of +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 29]</span> +his coat he drew them out again. "I won't go, all the same. What's the good? +We'll set traps--yes, we will. Call Jendrek, he can go and buy them--two, three, +as many as you want. He can fetch them at once from Gradewitz. Call him!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not move; she was so startled that she trembled. Was +he to escape her even at the last moment?</p> + +<p class="normal">He stamped his foot. Wasn't she going? Was +<i>he</i> to call the man? He walked angrily to the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she barred his passage; she fell on his breast half +unconscious and quite exhausted. "I--I'll--if you'll do this to please +me--I'll--I--will also do something to please you."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla drove to Gnesen. Mrs. Tiralla herself had helped +to harness the horse, and had stroked it tenderly whilst she did so. Jendrek had +felt hot and cold and covetous as he listened to the soft words the beautiful +woman had lavished on the dumb beast.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Run, my pretty horse, run," she whispered softly to the +animal, then she leant against the stable wall. She was hardly able as yet to +stand upright; her knees still trembled under her; her heart still fluttered +like that of a bird whose cage door had been opened and then closed again, just +as it was going to fly out. She did not recover until her husband came out of +the house booted and spurred. And whilst the man held the horse's head until his +master had mounted the box, she went close up to the carriage, and, holding out +her hand to her husband, said "Good-bye." There was something sympathetic in the +tone of her voice, and as she looked at him her eyes, which were often so cold, +seemed to promise him something.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He cracked his long whip and urged the horse on. "<i>Huj</i>, <i> +het!</i>" If only he were home again! But if she had the thing so much at heart +he could easily please her by driving to Gnesen. She was such a sweet little +woman, was his Sophia.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla stood looking after her husband for a long while. +For the first time in fifteen years she felt something like affection for +him--affection and gratitude. Then she drew a long breath and went back into the +house.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was very quiet, as quiet as if Mr. Tiralla had never filled +it with his loud voice and broad figure. The maidservant was in the field +fetching potatoes, the men were in the barn, Rosa was at school. She was quite +alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah!" The woman raised her arms with a deep sigh and ran +through the room as if she were flying. How happy she felt--ah, how happy! She +had not felt so happy for years. She walked round the big room and examined it. +She would place a sofa there, where the big bed stood. It was the biggest and +best room in the house; she would make a drawing-room of it. Or perhaps Mikolai +would like to have it when he came home after serving his three years in the +army? She would not make a point of having the room, she was quite satisfied +with her own bedroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">She sat down near the window and gazed dreamily into space. +She could generally see the village, with its sunken cottages and thatched roofs +all covered with moss, and the new brick walls of the fine-looking inn through +the open yard door as in a frame, but to-day there was nothing to be seen. +Everything was hidden by the driving snow-flakes. Oh, what a storm, what a lot +of snow! If that continued Mr. Tiralla would be delayed on the way, he would not +be able to come back +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 31]</span> +so soon. Hark! was not that the sound of a bell--the bell on the horse that she +herself had harnessed? She jumped up, startled. Surely he would not turn back on +account of the storm without effecting his purpose?</p> + +<p class="normal">She pressed both hands against her throbbing heart and +listened. Then she smiled reassuringly. Ah, that was no bell outside, that was +here--here, in both ears! Now it began to ring violently. All at once her face +was suffused with a burning blush, and she had to hold her head with both hands +in order to support it. Oh, how frightened she felt. What had she done? What was +she going to do?</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked round the room with terror in her eyes; the +silence, the emptiness now alarmed her. What was she to say when his son came +back from the army? What was she to tell him about his father? Would he believe +her? Wouldn't he point at her with his fingers and say, "She's done it"? Oh, +what was the meaning of this great fear? Where did these thoughts come from all +at once? She had never had them before.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jumping up from her seat near the window she ran into the +kitchen; the emptiness of the house tortured and tormented her to such a degree +that she could not bear to be any longer in her husband's room. But the kitchen +was also empty, the servant had not yet returned. Mrs. Tiralla cowered down near +the fireplace, shivering with cold. How far could he be now? Could he be in +Gnesen? Oh, no, the horse did not trot so quickly; still, it might be possible. +Hadn't she given it sugar, and stroked and patted its head? It would be sure to +trot well. And if he had already got to Gnesen, if he had already been to the +chemist's, if he had even got the poison, the poison for the rats! +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 32]</span> +Ah! She could not help it, she had to scream aloud with fear. What had she done?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Alas, alas!" She buried her head in her hands and moaned. But +she had done nothing so far, not committed any crime. Why was she so terrified?</p> + +<p class="normal">But she was going to do it!</p> + +<p class="normal">She rose from her prostrate position, and, with a confident +gesture, stroked back the hair from her forehead. She was going to do it, for +she had prayed for it. There was no going back, the saints had heard it. Had not +the priest always told her in years gone by, when she was still a child, that +what she asked for would be granted? Her prayer was now before the highest +throne. There was nothing to be done, it was to be. If the saints had not wished +it to be so her husband would not have gone to Gnesen, in spite of all her +urging, in spite of all her caresses.</p> + +<p class="normal">This assurance calmed her. She began to bustle about in the +kitchen and look into all the corners to see if the maid had not again put +something aside for one of her followers. She was such a flighty person. Indeed, +if she had not looked upon it as the duty of a Christian not to thrust the girl +back into the misery from which Mr. Tiralla had rescued her, she ought to be +turned out of the house--the sooner the better. She had still not had enough, +even with those two brats. It was really a disgrace to have such a person in the +house.</p> + +<p class="normal">All the same, Mrs. Tiralla was glad, and gave a sigh of relief +when Marianna came into the kitchen with her basket full of potatoes. She was +happy at the thought of no longer being alone in the empty house, and quite +forgot to scold the maid when the midday bell rang and there were no potatoes +boiling on the fire.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The servant had seen Mr. Tiralla drive off--he had gone to +Gnesen, Jendrek had told her--why should she hurry then? She could easily manage +the Pani. If she agreed to everything she said the Pani would be quiet and not +scold. But why on earth was the Pani always talking about rats? The master was +to fetch poison, she had made a point of it, for when had she ever been so +tender to him before? Hadn't she, Marianna, overheard her yesterday at the door? +Ay, how she had flattered him! She had purred like a cat when it curls itself up +on your lap. Poison for rats! Alas!</p> + +<p class="normal">When the maid had seen her master drive off that morning she +felt as if she must call out to him, "Stop! Don't go!" But she had held her +tongue; what business was it of hers? If he were such a fool, well, it would be +his own fault. Then her flirtation with Jendrek had made her entirely forget her +master, until it all occurred to her again when she saw her mistress in the +kitchen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The master has gone out," said Mrs. Tiralla, and although +Marianna did not question her, she added hastily--"gone to Gnesen." Then she +said with a blush, which the lie brought to her cheeks, "He wants to look at +some winter materials for a suit at Rosenthal's."</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid still said nothing, only nodded and began quickly to +peel the potatoes that were in the basket.</p> + +<p class="normal">"He'll probably go to the chemist's as well to fetch some +poison for the rats."</p> + +<p class="normal">She could not help it, the words were forced out against her +will. She had to say it. The maid's silence brought them out. Why was she so +quiet? What was she thinking of? Mrs. Tiralla was seized with a fit of +trembling.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 34]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The maid raised her head. "Then Pani must be very pleased." +Then she sighed and lowered her head again. "Poor master!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, what do you mean? 'Poor master!' Why do you say that?" +Mrs. Tiralla trembled more and more.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, isn't it 'poor master' to have to drive out in such +awful weather? Who knows when poor master will be back again?" Marianna smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it a malicious or a harmless smile? Mrs. Tiralla racked +her brains to find out. Oh, she was quite harmless.</p> + +<p class="normal">Still, she could not rid herself of the fear which had taken +possession of her. She would have to take care how she behaved to the maid. Even +if her flightiness were ever so objectionable to her, she would have to keep on +good terms with her. So whilst the maid stood stirring something on the fire, in +deep silence, Mrs. Tiralla went into her bedroom and brought out a gay-coloured +Scotch shawl, which she had been fond of throwing over her own shoulders. +"There," she said, putting it on the girl, who was still standing in the same +place near the fire, "it's cold, and I see you've nothing to warm you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Padam da nog!</i>" Marianna turned round as quick as +lightning, and, stooping down, kissed her mistress's knee. "Oh, what a fine +shawl, <i>what</i> a fine shawl! May the saints reward Pani for it. May they +bless her to the end of her days." Then, kissing the shawl, she danced round the +kitchen with it. "How it suits me! Oh, and it's so nice and so warm! Oh, and so +gay!" She laid her finger on the gay colours and was as happy as a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, no, she had nothing to fear from her!" All at once Mrs. +Tiralla recovered her spirits. She was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 35]</span> +still young enough to understand the poor girl's delight at her gay shawl, and +she laughed to see her joy.</p> + +<p class="normal">'Mid laughing and joking the two women prepared the dinner.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Rosa came home from school late, and very tired and worn +out with wading through the snow, her mother, who was in a good humour, gave the +hungry child a treat--a golden coloured omelette with raspberry jam. Then the +two women made a strong cup of coffee for themselves and put one aside for Mr. +Tiralla as well, and warmed his bed with hot bricks. He was to have a warm bed +after his long drive. </p> +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 36]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Röschen--she had been christened Rosa, but he always called +her Röschen--was her father's favourite child, and his exact image, as Mrs. +Tiralla used to say in a peculiar tone of voice. Yes, the girl had the same blue +eyes as her father, although they were not so pale and watery as his, and the +same coloured hair, for his must also have had a reddish tinge before it became +grey. And that was why Mrs. Tiralla so often turned away when the child had +wanted to get on her lap and, with clumsy little fingers, stroke her cheek.</p> + +<p class="normal">However, Mrs. Tiralla was in a more affectionate mood +to-night. The little girl looked up in astonishment when she felt a soft hand on +her head; but then she clung to her mother, and her dull eyes gleamed with joy +and gratitude.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had come back from Gnesen, and it seemed to the +woman as if a star were now standing over the house, showing her distinctly the +way she was to go. She felt happier than she had been for a long time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her husband had handed her the packet from the chemist's as if +it had been a box of sweets he sometimes brought her from town. It was nicely +done up in striped tissue paper with a piece of red string round it. But, on +taking off the string, she had caught sight of a grinning death's head and +cross-bones on the lid, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 37]</span> +and had read the word "Poison." She had screamed and let the box fall on the +table.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There, you see, now you're afraid of it as well," said Mr. +Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">How little he knew her. She and fear?</p> + +<p class="normal">"How am I to prepare it? How am I to prepare it?" she cried in +an eager voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">He showed her how. He felt very important, for the chemist had +warned him to be exceedingly careful. He would not have given such a thing to +anybody else but the well-known Mr. Tiralla, the man had said, not even if they +had brought a paper from the doctor. She was to strew some of the white powder, +which looked as harmless as sifted sugar, on a small piece of raw meat; and put +it in the corners. There would be no rats left in the cellar then. Or she could +strew some of the wheat which was in the paper bag, and which you could hardly +distinguish from ordinary wheat, as it only looked a little redder.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I implore you to be careful, my dove. Swear that you'll +be very careful, Sophia." Mr. Tiralla was seized with a sudden fear, and wiped +the perspiration from his forehead. He felt burning, although the cold snow +still clung to his fur collar and cap. He took oft his top-coat and stretched +his limbs as though he felt oppressed, whilst she stood motionless at the table +and stared at the packet with gleaming eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Which is the most efficacious?" she asked in a dreamy voice, +"the powder or the wheat?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"They're both equally efficacious," he assured her uneasily. +"The wheat is bad enough, but you've only to swallow a little of that white +stuff--oh, you needn't even swallow it, hardly touch it with the tip of your +tongue, and you're done for. It's a deadly poison--strychnine." He shuddered. +"Oh, how could +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 38]</span> +I bring such a thing home with me? I am possessed by the devil. Give me it!" He +snatched the packet out of her hands and ran to the stove, in which big logs of +wood were crackling and spluttering.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you mad?" She saw what he was going to do--he intended +burning it. She was at his side in one bound, and, tearing the packet out of his +hand, she hid it in her pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give me it, give me it!" he cried.</p> + +<p class="normal">She laughed at him and pressed her hand tightly against her +pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he began to wail and lament. Alas, alas, what had he +done? How could he ever have been so foolish as to bring such a thing into the +house? He would never have another peaceful hour, he would always be thinking +that an accident might happen.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But why," she asked in a calm voice, looking at him fixedly +with her black eyes, "should an accident happen?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Alas, alas!" he moaned, and buried his head in his hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had to comfort him. Her words calmed him; he was like a +child. Then he asked her to stroke him; she did that also. At last he wanted to +be helped to bed; he must have been drinking, although he denied it. The maid +had to come as well; and whilst she took off his riding-boots he put his heavy +head on his wife's shoulder, and she had to hold him in her arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they had got him to bed they both looked very hot and +flushed, for he had been pinching them in fun and had pretended to be quite +helpless.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he sent for Röschen, whom he had not seen the whole day, +for she was already on her way to school when he was still snoring in bed, and +when he drove to Gnesen she had not yet returned. And now +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 39]</span> +he longed for some one to fondle him. And the little girl knew very well what +her father wanted; so she climbed up on his bed and laid her thin little arms +round his neck and pressed her cool cheek to his. Then he talked to her in +whispers and called her by an the pet names he could think of. She was his +little red-haired girlie, his star, his song-bird, the apple of his eye, his +sun, his balm of Gilead, his guardian angel, the key which was to open the door +of heaven for him. And the child smiled and stroked him with her soft hands. She +loved him so. He gave her everything her mother would not give her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Still, she loved her mother in secret. Didn't everybody call +her "the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla"? Didn't the schoolmaster, who was always so +harsh, often send a message to her mother, and even pardon her faults and favour +her just because she was the daughter of the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla? Rosa knew +that she was not pretty; at least, she did not consider herself so when she +plaited her curly, reddish hair before the looking-glass. Her mother's hair was +as black as ebony and as smooth as silk, and her yellowish complexion and the +tinge of red in her cheeks seemed twice as beautiful as her own freckles.</p> + +<p class="normal">The growing child longed to be beautiful, although she did not +exactly know why; and it disheartened and depressed her that she did not grow +better-looking, in spite of all her fervent prayers. She used to kneel down at +her bedside every evening in the little room she shared with Marianna and raise +her hands in earnest supplication. She did not even know herself what all the +things were which she prayed for.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna was also a devout Christian, and, when they both lay +in their beds, she would tell the listening child all about signs and wonders, +about spells and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 40]</span> +miraculous cures, and about the strange things that happened in the +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hadn't farmer Kiebel heard the sound of a horn behind him in +the wood not far from the new Jewish cemetery when he was driving back from +Wronke to Obersitzko after the last fair! "Toot, toot, toot!" He had got down +and had drawn lots of crosses in the snow with his whip in front of the +trembling horses and all around the cart; and then the black huntsman had rushed +past him with horns blowing, dogs barking, and making a fearful noise. His cloak +had flapped so much that it had almost blown Pan Kiebel down from his cart; but +the crosses in the snow had protected the pious man, and the black huntsman had +had to ride on.</p> + +<p class="normal">And there was a mountain at Ossówiec, where the witches had +met last June, and where they would soon meet again in December, in order to +deliberate where they should go in the shape of dust and wind. But if you +painted "C.M.B.," the initials of the three Kings of the East, on all the doors +and walls, no witch would be able to get in and throw something into your plate. +Or you need only say to yourself, "God bless it," before you began to eat or +drink, and then no witchcraft could harm your food, for the saints would hold +their hands stretched out over the plate.</p> + +<p class="normal">Those who regularly prayed to the Holy Mother or to the saints +had no need to fear the devil, who, four weeks ago, had come to miller Kierski +at midnight--the man who lived at Latalice, north of Gradewitz, and was always +swearing and drinking--and had almost wrung his neck off. He had been left on +the dunghill behind his barn, where he lay quite stiff and blue in the face; and +if St. Peter's cock had not flown on to the roof of the mill and crowed three +times, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 41]</span> +so that the devil thought it was the miller's cock crowing in the early morning, +the miller would have been found as dead as a door-nail, with his face turned +round to his back; and his soul would already have been in hell.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna firmly believed that ghosts were screaming in the +pines outside, and that witches were dancing in the wind that howled round the +farm; but above all she believed that the devil was running about on the Przykop +like a will-o'-the-wisp, and was longing to get into the house, in order to +fetch a soul to hell.</p> + +<p class="normal">But even if she had not so firmly believed it, it would have +amused her to whisper all kinds of strange stories to the trembling child, who +had long ago crept into her bed and was clinging to her. Her stories became more +and more marvellous, more and more weird. The night time, the moaning of the +wind, the plaintive cry of the screech-owls perched in the old pines in the +morass; above all, the darkness of the room, the deep silence, the loneliness, +gave wings to the maid's fancy. Everything became instinct with life: a creature +sighed in every tree, a voice spoke from every stone, something gasped for air +under every clod of earth, something lurked in every pool. The branches that +tapped against the window-panes were the fingers of the dead, the stars that +shot across the heavens were wandering souls, and the clouds and winds were full +of prophecies.</p> + +<p class="normal">Once when she was a child, Marianna told Rosa, she had run in +amongst some corn in order to pluck some ears and make herself a wreath of the +red poppies. And there she had been seized by the "Zagak," a big man with a +cudgel in his hand and a hat full of holes on his head, and with shoes through +which all his toes were peeping. If a cart with creaking wheels had not +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 42]</span> +happened to drive past at that moment, in which a farmer was sitting, singing a +hymn, the "Zagak" would not have let her go. But she got off that time with a +fright and a torn skirt. She still shook when she thought of the "Zagak"--ugh! +How fortunate it was that he could not get at her here in her warm bed. The +woman shuddered voluptuously, and she and the child clung still more closely to +each other.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Röschen's little fingers clutched hold of Marianna's +coarse ones, and both began to pray with all their might. What else could they +do in the solitude and darkness of the night, surrounded by evil spirits that +crept out of every corner, even out of the human breast? Prayer alone saved. And +they prayed and prayed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Big drops of perspiration and tears rolled down Röschen's +delicate little face and her limbs trembled.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, if only the Holy Virgin would come and take her under her +blue mantle. She was so terrified and in such pain. Her head ached; her back and +her chest as well; her throat was so swollen that she could hardly swallow; her +eyes burned as if with fever.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy Mother!" The child could hardly look over the +feather-bed, as she tried to pierce the darkness with her terrified eyes, so +high had it been drawn up. "All good spirits praise God! Dear Holy Mother, hail, +Mary!" Oh, there she was, there she stood in the darkness and nodded to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The darkness was no longer dark, the tapping of the fingers +against the window-panes and the soughing of the wind round the house had all at +once lost their terror. Oh, how sweet the Holy Mother looked, how mild, and so +beautiful. She took the terrified child under her protection and smiled at her, +until her burning +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 43]</span> +eyes dosed, until a glorious dream came to her in her slumbers and filled her +soul with a sweet terror.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it any wonder, then, that Rosa Tiralla should cease +petting her father when he suddenly began to moan and cry out, "Oh, what have I +done? Oh, how terrified I am! I shall never have a quiet hour again. The devil +has a hand in such a game!" and should say to him in a very earnest voice, "Why +are you so terrified? Call on the Holy Mother; she wears a blue mantle, and she +will wrap you in it. I'm often terrified, but then my fear disappears. Shall I +call on her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, oh, yes." At any other time Mr. Tiralla would have burst +out laughing, but to-day he nodded eagerly. And then he whispered in the child's +ear, but so softly that his Sophia, who stood listening near the table as if +ready to pounce on them, could not hear a single word. "I'm so terrified, I +don't know why. Pray, pray."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa slid down from the bed, and, kneeling on the skin rug, +pressed her folded hands against her pale lips. She prayed fervently. They were +the same old prayers which had been repeated mechanically so many times before; +but they gained solemnity in the child's mouth. Her thin voice sounded deeper +and more sonorous; the lamp-light shone on her reddish hair, that curled around +her temples until it looked like a halo.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla raised her head and glanced at her daughter; +glanced at her and started, forgetting for a time the thoughts which had raged +within her with such force that she had grown weak and incapable of making any +resistance. Ah, yes, there was Rosa and there was Rosa's father. But Rosa was +not the exact image of her father, all the same; she had also inherited +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 44]</span> +something from her. Mrs. Tiralla suddenly felt twenty years younger as if by +magic. She pictured herself in the priest's quiet study and heard once more the +wonderful stories with which he had captivated her so irresistibly. She had +always listened to him in silence, but she had grown hot and red. She still felt +how the blood used to rush to her head as though she had been drinking wine.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, yes, the girl must go to a convent, there was no doubt +about that. They would cut off her curly hair, that gleamed in the lamplight, +when she took the veil; the linen band would cover her brow and her cheek. Only +her small nose and her blue eyes would be seen. Oh, how sweet Rosa would look in +a nun's dress. She would blossom like a rose in the Saviour's garden. Mrs. +Tiralla was seized with a sudden love for her daughter, and she went up to her +and laid her hand on her head.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa was very happy. Her mother had even kissed her when she +had said good night, and she felt as if a flame of light had flashed through +her. She did not care to hear any of Marianna's stories to-night, although she +generally begged for some. "I only want to pray," she said. And she prayed that +her mother might always smile at her. She admired her so, her slender figure, +her beautiful hair, and her velvety eyes. Nobody was as beautiful as her mother, +only the Holy Virgin.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa's eyes closed whilst she was still praying, and in her +slumber she suddenly saw the Holy Mother standing by her bedside. She had +exactly the same face as her own mother and wore the same dress, a dark blue +skirt and a bright red, striped blouse. And the Holy Mother bent over her, so +that she felt her warm breath on her cheek; she was probably listening +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 45]</span> +if she were asleep. Then the Holy Mother left her and listened at the bed where +Marianna had been snoring for a long time; and then she went softly out of the +room. Oh, how beautiful she was. The little girl fell soundly asleep with a +prayer on her lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Marianna was not asleep, even though she had pretended to +be. What was her mistress doing, wandering about the house like that during the +hours of the night? The country girl's hearing was as sharp as that of any +denizen of the woods, and she could hear her going softly up and down the stairs +and wandering restlessly through the rooms. Why wasn't the Pani asleep? And why +had she come to their room? She must be up to something.</p> + +<p class="normal">As soon as the child was fast asleep Marianna sat up in bed +and placed her hand behind her ear. Now her mistress was in the kitchen. <i>Psia +krew!</i> what was she rattling the coffee-mill for? Or was it the tin in which +the sugar was kept?</p> + +<p class="normal">"All good spirits!" The girl made the sign of the cross. Was +the woman in league with the devil? The master had brought poison from Gnesen, +poison for the rats. The servant's observant eyes had noticed the box on the +table, the white box from the chemist's, with the black death's head on it. If +now that woman downstairs were to put some of it in master's coffee or among the +sifted sugar, of which he loved to pour half a basinful into his cup? Holy +Mother!</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid crouched down in her bed and drew the feather bed +over her ears. She would neither see nor hear anything. What business was it of +hers? The master was a kind man, but the mistress was really very kind too, and +it was a difficult matter for such a poor servant-girl, who had already got two +children +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 46]</span> +on her hands, to side with either party. It would be much better to have nothing +to do with the whole affair.</p> + +<p class="normal">But in spite of putting both fingers in her ears, for the +thick feather bed was not enough, she still heard her mistress wandering +restlessly backwards and forwards. And that went on till dawn, and prevented her +falling asleep. She generally snored the whole night through, but to-day she +heard the cock crowing on the dunghill and the dull lowing of the cows before +she closed her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">She overslept herself. When she at last awoke from her uneasy +slumbers she found Rosa standing before the little bit of looking-glass plaiting +her hair, and from the yard came the clatter of wooden shoes and the rattle of +the chain in the well as Jendrek drew up the bucket.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy Mary!" cried Marianna, as she jumped out of bed. "Why +didn't you wake me, you wretch?" she said to the child furiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was just--just going to do it," answered Rosa in a tone of +excuse. As she stood there in her short petticoats and bare shoulders she looked +very small and thin. "I was just going to shake you."</p> + +<p class="normal">But you could see that Rosa had never thought of waking the +servant, her thoughts were otherwise occupied. She was still dreaming with her +eyes open. Oh, if only she could have told some one what she had dreamt--it had +been so beautiful. The Holy Mother had let her hold the Child Jesus in her arms, +and she had felt the soft, warm little body on her breast. How it had clung to +her. Rosa smiled blissfully to herself as she looked in the tarnished bit of +looking-glass, all stained with soap-suds.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna ran down into the kitchen without washing +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 47]</span> +herself or doing her hair. Oh, dear, there stood her mistress at the fireplace, +her hair beautifully done and as neat as ever. Had she even made the coffee?</p> + +<p class="normal">"The coffee is ready; you're so late," said Mrs. Tiralla. But +she did not scold the servant for sleeping too long, she merely handed her the +tray with the enormous coffee-cup on. "There, carry it in to him. I've already +put sugar in it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna stared at her mistress in amazement. Her drowsiness +suddenly disappeared; what she had thought of during the night suddenly occurred +to her again. She stammered something and remained as if rooted to the spot, +until her mistress said to her, laughing, "Take it to him. Why do you stand +there like an idiot?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No, it would be quite impossible for anybody to laugh like +that who had put poison in the coffee. Marianna drew a breath of relief. But as +she carried the tray across the stone passage she made the sign of the cross +over it--"God bless it!"--as a kind of security. Now nothing could harm it. And +as she smelt the warm, strong coffee, she could not help drinking some of it. +She had had nothing to eat as yet, something warm would do her good. How strong +the coffee was. It tasted quite bitter in spite of the sugar--pooh! But it was +very good, all the same. She took another big gulp.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew</i>, you rascally woman! I suppose you're +drinking some of my coffee, as I'm not getting it," shouted Mr. Tiralla from his +bedroom. A boot, thrown by an expert hand, flew through the half-open door right +against Marianna's apron. She gave a loud scream and let the tray fall; the +sweetened coffee ran over her feet and along the stone passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" A second boot came flying. The +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 48]</span> +door was thrown wide open, and there was Mr. Tiralla sitting on the edge of his +bed angling with his bare feet for his slippers, which had disappeared under the +bed.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid stood on the threshold, soaked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla burst into a loud laugh. "What a blockhead you +are, to be sure!" he shouted, slapping his thighs. "Good heavens, was there ever +such an idiotic person! Don't stare at me so stupidly. Come, come, you needn't +begin to cry directly. Go and fetch some more coffee."</p> + +<p class="normal">"The Pani will hit me," the girl sobbed. "I'm so frightened, +so terribly frightened."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sophia," shouted Mr. Tiralla, who had had a very good night, +"Sophia, this stupid girl has spilt the coffee; now don't hit her."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was already on the spot. She grew deadly pale and +then burning red as she saw the sweetened coffee running along the ground like a +brown stream.</p> + +<p class="normal">The servant ducked down; now the mistress would be sure to hit +her. But she did nothing of the sort. She did not even raise her hand in menace, +she simply said, "It wasn't to be. Make him some more coffee." Then she fetched +a cloth and wiped it up with her own hands, collected the broken bits of china, +and said nothing more.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna felt quite confused. She had never broken anything +without being punished for it by her different mistresses. And to-day she hadn't +even got a box on the ears nor been threatened with one. She went about like a +dog on the scent; there was something wrong here. The place was haunted. She +kept her eye on the mistress, but she was sitting in the room near the window +reading. The master had gone into +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 49]</span> +the fields to try to shoot a hare; and Rosa was at school. Oh, if only she had +had a soul to speak to.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid felt oppressed, as though a very important secret +were weighing her down. Besides, she really did feel as if she had a heavy +weight on her chest. What could it be? She had to draw her breath the whole +time, and she could not swallow; she felt as if she were choking. Oh, how +terrified she was! And then she had such an awful thirst, her mouth was quite +parched. She staggered to the bucket; she wanted to drink, but she could not. +Holy Mother, why could she not swallow? All of a sudden she was seized with a +fit of trembling, which grew so severe that she had to sit down on the floor +just where she stood. Oh, how ill she felt. Her eyes grew dim, and she was +bathed in perspiration. Now she could not breathe at all. She tried to scream, +to cry for help; she could not do that either. She endeavoured to get up, but +she was perfectly stiff; her head felt as if it were in splints. Her hands were +clenched as though she were in a fit. Oh, God, have mercy! Was she going to +die? How her limbs ached.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid lay there in a state of collapse, until she gradually +recovered so far as to be able to rise, moaning and groaning, and stagger out of +the kitchen into the yard. There she was very sick.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jendrek came up to her and laughed as he saw her standing +there. Ha-ha, had she been to a dance, unknown to everybody? But the +harvest-homes were over, and Twelfth Day had not yet come round. "What had she +been eating or drinking to make herself so ill?" he inquired in a scoffing tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer. All she could do was to raise her head a +very little and give him a strange look.</p> + +<p class="normal">He grew terrified when he saw how enormous the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 50]</span> +pupils of her eyes had become. Ugh! she did look awful. Instead of telling her +how pleased he was to think that she for once in a way could sympathize with his +feelings on a Monday morning, he grasped her by the arm and asked, "Is anything +the matter? Tell me."</p> + +<p class="normal">She groaned and gave a feeble nod. When he had asked her what +she had been eating, the thought had pierced her stupefied brain that she must +have been bewitched, that she must have eaten or dr----</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poison, poison!" she suddenly shrieked, and throwing herself +on the ground she rolled about and screamed, so that the man shrunk back in +fright.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla must also have heard the girl's shrieks, for she +came out of the house at once. She ran up to the maid, but as the latter +continued to scream "Poison, poison!" in a loud voice, and roll about as if she +were mad, with her hands pressed against her body, the woman grew so deadly pale +that Jendrek thought she would also fall down.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Silence, silence!" she cried hastily, holding her hand before +Marianna's mouth. But as the latter pushed her hand away and went on screaming, +she looked round like a terrified animal at bay.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jendrek felt quite anxious when he saw his mistress's eyes. +"Shall I go to Gradewitz and fetch the doctor?" he asked timidly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No," cried the woman angrily. And then, rousing herself, she +seized hold of his smock and cried, "Are you mad? She's only drunk, only drunk, +nothing else."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm not drunk!" screamed Marianna. Then she added in a +furious voice, "That fool, that Jendrek, says I'm drunk; but let him sweep +before his own door first. I've not drunk anything, not a drop, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 51]</span> +that I'll swear." All at once Marianna recovered her voice. "That fool! It's +poison that I've got in my body. I've been poisoned; I'm going to die--oh, oh!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The man opened his eyes in amazement.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Mrs. Tiralla noticed that he was listening intently to +what Marianna was saying she grew as red as she before had been pale. Then, with +a short, forced laugh, she said, "Nonsense. Poison? Where should you have got it +from? You're raving, my girl. Come," she added, helping the girl to rise, "lean +on my arm. You're already better, aren't you? I'll put you to bed. I'll make you +a strong cup of tea. I'll give you a hot-water bottle. And then, when you're +better, we'll see if one of my petticoats will fit you; you must be dressed more +warmly." She felt the girl's thin skirt. "Why, she has nothing on. She must have +caught cold. I'll take care of her. You are better now, aren't you? Holy Mother! +Marianna, speak! You're better, aren't you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna shook her head. She pretended to feel very wretched +once more, and, rolling her eyes, she began to groan and lean so heavily against +her mistress that they both stumbled.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jendrek had to come to the rescue. They took the girl between +them and dragged her into the house and up the stairs to bed.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the man saw how kind his mistress was to Marianna, he +stared at her in surprise. "What a good woman she must be," he thought to +himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whilst Mrs. Tiralla was rubbing the servant's icy-cold feet +and hands she continued to repeat the same question, "You're better, aren't +you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">It touched Jendrek to see how anxious the good woman was. He +thought that he would like to be ill as well; and he made up his mind that he +would +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 52]</span> +groan like that next Monday and scream, "Poison, poison!" and lie on the ground +and roll about. It must be very nice to have your cheek and forehead stroked by +the mistress's soft hands, as she was stroking Marianna's, and to see how she +worried about you. And then she had run into the kitchen and brought her a cup +full of good, warm tea, and had held it to her lips and said, "Drink, dear, +drink."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Marianna did not want to drink. She almost knocked the cup +out of her mistress's hand. And when the latter tried to persuade her in her +soft voice, "Do drink, it'll do you good," she answered pertly, "I'll take +precious good care I don't. I shall not drink it," and turned her face to the +wall.</p> + +<p class="normal">Why on earth wouldn't she drink that good cup of tea? The man +would very much have liked to know that.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mrs. Tiralla did not ask why. The cup rattled in her hand, +and as she stepped back from the bed she trembled so that she had to sit down on +the nearest chair. She closed her eyes for a moment. But when she opened them +again and saw the man's questioning looks, she gave him a sweet, almost timid +smile, and said, "I'm not very strong. Such things affect me so. Oh, what a +fright it gave me."</p> + +<p class="normal">As they were going down the steep, dark stairs, she felt for +his arm. "Lead me, Jendrek, I can't walk alone. Oh, poor Marianna!"</p> +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 53]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">The winter was long in Starydwór, and the winter was the +season of the year which Mrs. Tiralla liked least, for her husband would spend +almost the whole day at home. He grew more and more lazy; he would not even go +out shooting. "Why should I shoot hares?" he would say. "I can buy them very +cheaply; any 'komornik' will kill one for me. I would much rather stop at home +with Sophia."</p> + +<p class="normal">Beautiful Mrs. Tiralla had grown thin during the course of the +winter, "as slender as a fairy," said Mr. Schmielke, the tax-collector. The +gentry used to meet at the inn every evening and discuss the most important +events of the day; and as nothing much happened in Starawieś, Gradewitz, and +neighbourhood, they would speak of Mrs. Tiralla. This they did rather often, for +the men considered her the most interesting topic of conversation in Starawieś, +Gradewitz, and the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By Jove, how beautiful that woman is!" some one would +exclaim; and then another would add, "What a pity that that old fool has got +her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's nothing to be done," sighed the tax-collector, who +had served in the guards at Potsdam, and had always been accustomed to carry +everything before him on account of his smartness. "Absolutely nothing to be +done, gentlemen. I've already had a try; but, to tell you the truth, she has +sent me to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 54]</span> +the right about. Ah, the fair Sophia!" He stroked his moustache and tilted his +chair as far back as he could, in order to look into the tap-room and wink at +the clumsy little country-girl who was helping the landlord behind the bar.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Böhnke, the schoolmaster, was very much put out. There was +this Prussian, who had fallen from the clouds into their loyal Polish district, +and at once imagined that he could win the most beautiful woman for himself. But +such a rose was not meant for a fellow like him--a fellow with no education +worth speaking of, for he had been nothing but a noncommissioned officer. "Pray +don't speak so loudly. Don't shout out the names like that!" he exclaimed, +jumping up from his seat and closing the door into the tap-room.</p> + +<p class="normal">It vexed him to think that his pale face had grown scarlet. +This Schmielke was certainly held in high esteem by everybody, and of course it +would not be wise to quarrel with a representative of the Prussian Government. +Still, it was very impertinent of him even to think of Mrs. Tiralla, of that +educated woman, the daughter of a schoolmaster, extremely impertinent. Really, +you couldn't help laughing at it. And he gave an angry laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You seem to be enjoying yourselves here," said a voice at +that moment; and, looking round in surprise, the men caught sight of a head +covered with a mass of white hair, that stood up like bristles round an angular +forehead, and a pair of lovely brown eyes. It was the priest who had opened the +door softly and had stuck his head in. "Let me see, who are you all? Mr. Böhnke, <i> +dobri wieczor</i>." He nodded somewhat condescendingly to the schoolmaster who +had jumped up from his chair, and then gave a very friendly nod +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 55]</span> +to Mr. Schmielke, the tax-collector, who was leaning back in his tilted chair +with two fingers thrust into the front of his uniform.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How do?" said the tax-collector.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ziëntek, who was a good Catholic, felt very much annoyed at +his heretical friend Schmielke's off-hand behaviour. Ziëntek was a clerk at the +post office in Gradewitz; but he enjoyed himself better in Starawieś, where he +was not so well known, and often cycled over late in the evening. He had jumped +up from his chair like the schoolmaster, although perhaps not quite so quickly, +and had shaken hands with Father Szypulski, the priest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Father Szypulski now stepped up to the table, for he saw that +they were all good acquaintances, with whom he felt quite at home. He had been +so lonely in his small study, where there was hardly room for so big and broad a +man as he. He couldn't always be reading, and it was impossible to go to the +neighbouring farmers for a game of cards, as the roads were at present in a +frightful condition. He couldn't even get to his colleague in Gradewitz, which +was only a few miles distant by the highroad. Besides, what would have been the +good of it? They couldn't have gone to the hotel in the market-place, as there +were always too many people about. Oh, there really were too many Germans +amongst the settlers. And who would notice him going to the inn on such a snowy +night if he took up his cassock? A few stupid peasants at the most, who would +bend their heads so low when they greeted him as though their priest were a +saint at least. And in the inn he would find human beings.</p> + +<p class="normal">The priest no doubt felt that it was not quite the thing for +him to sit in the inn, and that his superiors would have taken umbrage at it. +But had he ever +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 56]</span> +taken more than he could stand? So far nobody had ever seen him the worse for +drink. He reviewed one colleague after another in his mind; where was there one +who had not behaved like other men? And why had they sent him to such a remote +post? so rural, so primitive. His scruples were gradually being lulled to sleep +in the snowy winter days, that were not even brightened by a faint gleam of +light--he hardly ever caught a glimpse of a paper, besides papers were +pernicious reading--in that monotonous silence, that was not even enlivened by +the whistle of an engine, for the railway was on the other side of Gradewitz.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are you talking about, gentlemen?" inquired the priest +in an interested voice; and he was soon in the midst of the conversation about +Mrs. Tiralla. He was her father confessor. "A good little woman, an exceedingly +nice little woman," he said in a laudatory tone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I had a fearful to-do with Tiralla the other day, your +reverence," said Kranz of the <i>gendarmerie</i>, who was sitting at the end of +the table stroking his fierce-looking, greyish moustache. "I felt quite sorry +for the woman. I had to speak. I didn't think it could be possible, but I was +told of it, and I found out for myself that it was true--Tiralla lets the +day-labourers kill hares for him. It makes no difference to him whether they're +on other people's property or not. I taxed him with it, and he didn't even deny +it, he simply laughed. But his wife turned as red as fire, she felt so ashamed +of him. 'It's a disgrace!' she cried, and looked at me with eyes full of tears. +And then she gave him a real, good scolding. 'Haven't I told you again and again +that if you want to eat hares, you're to shoot them yourself? If you don't +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 57]</span> +do so I'll throw them out of the kitchen next time you bring them, I swear I +will.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bravo!" they all shouted. "Splendid!" There was only one more +thing she ought to have done and that was soundly to box his ears, the +scoundrel. They were so furious with him that they seemed entirely to forget +that they lived in a country where hares are no man's property, so to speak, and +are often killed by passers-by as they gambol about fearlessly in the immense, +lonely fields that extend for miles.</p> + +<p class="normal">The younger men's eyes sparkled as they listened. The +tax-collector, the clerk from the post office, and the schoolmaster were none of +them thirty. The forester, who was sitting next to the clerk from the post +office, and Jokisch, the inspector of the settlement near the lake, could also +be reckoned amongst her admirers, although they were married men; and the +gendarme was still a good-looking fellow, in spite of his greyish moustache and +an almost grown-up daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I knew all about those hares," said Bilkowski, the forester, +laughing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You knew it?" The gendarme opened his eyes wide.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I say, don't look like that. If I were to publish +everything that happens here," and the forester shrugged his shoulders, "I +should never get any further."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But a man ought to--it's his duty--I'm obliged," and the +gendarme, who had only been transferred to this post the spring before, pulled +out an enormous note-book from his pocket with a determined look, and took out +the pencil. "I always write everything down. Things were bad enough in Upper +Silesia, but they seem to be worse here."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 58]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you'll get used to them," said the forester reassuringly. +"It's really very nice here. I shouldn't like to live anywhere else now. It was +also rather difficult for me at first, and especially for my wife. She made +enough fuss about it. But now I never hear anything more, and"--he paused for a +moment, then added with a smile that was half embarrassed, half sly--"I only see +what I want to see. What else is there for me to do? Am I to act in opposition +to the nobility, who would continue to do exactly what they liked all the same, +or am I to let the peasants kill me when they commit outrages in the royal +woods? Of course I always go to the Przykop when I hear a shot; but if they +don't shoot, if they only make use of their cudgels, what then?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He was right. They all agreed that it was no easy matter to be +a forester. Still the gendarme did not exactly approve of Mr. Bilkowski speaking +so frankly. "But, my dear fellow," and Bilkowski patted him on the shoulder, +"we're all in the same boat. Why shouldn't I speak frankly amongst friends?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The priest cast a glance at the open door leading into the +tap-room. Then he whispered to the schoolmaster, "Close it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke hastened to comply with the hint.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think that the Tirallas would come to our Gardewitz +ball?" asked the clerk from the post office, blushing like a young girl. "I'm +getting it up, and if the Tirallas were coming I would arrange a cotillon with +flowers. If we were to order them at a big shop in Posen we could get real ferns +and wired flowers at sixpence a bouquet. Why, it would even be worth while +writing to Berlin for them. If you want to give such a ball you must be prepared +to spend something on it."</p> + +<p class="normal">"When do you intend having it?" This was a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 59]</span> +matter that interested everybody, and the little man felt very important.</p> + +<p class="normal">"On Shrove Tuesday, as usual. After that there's always such a +long spell where there's nothing whatever to do. It'll be splendid, I can tell +you, splendid! I hope Sophia Tiralla will come."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why shouldn't she, I should like to know?" Schmielke resolved +at all events to secure her for the cotillon in good time, as that meant he +would take her into supper as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">They all had the same intention, and all had made up their +minds to call on the Tirallas at the earliest opportunity. It was quite a +different kind of thing to clasp a woman like that in your arms instead of Miss +Stumpf, the baker's daughter, who was both clumsy and stout; or the stupid, +snub-nosed Miss Musiëlak, the stationmaster's daughter; or even Miss Stanislawa, +who was rather pretty, but whose father, Count Jagodziúski, was the town clerk, +and was always borrowing money from them all. Could even little Jadwiga Hähnel, +with the freckles, the rich mill-owner's only unmarried daughter, or the fair +Marianna Rózycki, the butcher's daughter, who, after the first glass of beer, +always fell violently in love with her partner, could they be compared with +Sophia Tiralla? All the young ladies of Gradewitz, Starawieś, and neighbourhood +were in turn reviewed, but the prize was unanimously bestowed on the fair +Sophia.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A pretty little woman, to be sure," said the priest.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you noticed that as well, sir?" asked Schmielke pertly, +with a sly wink.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster started angrily, another impertinence from +that man. Even Ziëntek gave an embarrassed little cough; really, how could Fritz +say such a thing?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 60]</span> + +But the priest did not appear to have taken it amiss, and laughed when he saw +Schmielke wink. Why shouldn't he see it as well as the others? Did he think he +was blind? He was fortunately still in possession of his eyesight, and there +could surely be nothing wrong in his admiring a pretty creature.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster listened in amazement to this free and easy +confession. How could his reverence say such things aloud? And in Schmielke's +presence too, that heretic. It would of course be at once repeated and turned to +account.</p> + +<p class="normal">The others, however, were very much amused by the confession, +and shouted and laughed loudly. Jokisch, the inspector, who had hitherto hardly +opened his mouth--he had been too busy drinking--now raised his glass. "Long +live our priest. We've the best in the whole kingdom. Let him live and let +live."</p> + +<p class="normal">They all clinked with the priest, and Jokisch was even so +impertinent as to slap him on the shoulder as he said, "What a pity, sir, that +you can't go to the ball."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you think I couldn't dance, eh?" said the priest, eyeing +his long boots, which resembled those of an officer in a cavalry regiment. "You +needn't fear that I should be out of place there. What a pity"--he gave a little +sigh--"but it would never do."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not, I should like to know?" asked Schmielke, and +laughed. "The youth does not know the reason why."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Those are some fine ideas you've got," the schoolmaster +blurted out. He had worked himself into such a passion that he could not +restrain himself any longer. "You Germans seem to have some nice ideas of us. +But, of course, you're a heretic." It sounded very +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 61]</span> venomous. "It's quite possible that your +clergy do such things." "Now, now," said the priest, giving the schoolmaster a +sign to be quiet. He felt annoyed that the differences of religion and +nationality should have been brought up. How stupid of this Böhnke to make such +a to-do. They had to live together and get on with each other. The first in the +land were striving to do the same. Hiding his momentary embarrassment under a +jovial laugh, the priest broke the silence that now reigned in the room by +saying in a loud voice:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I would advise you to take a glass of bitters, Böhnke, or +some Glauber-salt. That would do you good."</p> + +<p class="normal">A roar of laughter greeted this witticism.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster turned pale and bit his lips, for he dared +not say anything; but he looked down on them all with supreme contempt. How far +superior he was to them in education--even superior to the priest, who was only +a peasant's son, whilst his father had been a schoolmaster. He was to have +studied philology and have been master of a higher-grade school. But even with +the less advanced education he had received at the seminary, he still felt +himself far superior to all of them. And this he thought he could say without +putting too high a value on his own capabilities.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke always kept aloof from everybody; he had no friends, he +was harsh to the children, and was often bad-tempered. Rosa Tiralla was the only +child to whom he spoke kindly; but she was quite different to the other +children, much better bred. You could see that she had a nice mother, who was of +good family. The schoolmaster took an interest in this woman. But it was not +only her beauty that attracted him, he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 62]</span> +also felt that they were kindred spirits on account of her parentage. He was +filled with jealousy and anger when he heard those ill-bred fellows calling her +"Sophia Tiralla," plain and simple Why couldn't they say "Mrs. Tiralla"? That +would have been the proper thing for them to do. The schoolmaster continued to +bite his lips and stare in front of him, pale and morose.</p> + +<p class="normal">But a spark had fallen into the straw, and the former peaceful +conversation was at an end. Jokisch and Schmielke suddenly commenced +quarrelling. Jokisch, who had already drunk too much, began to speak +disparagingly about Mrs. Tiralla. She was one of those whom you couldn't trust +out of your sight. He felt quite sorry for Tiralla, who wasn't a bad fellow, but +imposed upon, imposed upon. "My wife says----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tut, tut, your wife's jealous," said Schmielke teasingly, and +laughed. "Naturally it can't be agreeable for her to have the fair Sophia as her +nearest neighbour."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" roared the man. "I suppose you mean to +infer that I've been carrying on with her. I've not had anything to do with her; +I wouldn't touch her with a pair of tongs." He grew more and more furious.</p> + +<p class="normal">"H'm, your wife has taught you well, I see," remarked the +tax-collector superciliously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Taught me--taught me? I've finished my training long ago," +roared the inspector. "I needn't learn any more. I was inspector for five years +at Count Bninski's, in Opalenitza; I needn't learn any more for your rotten +Prussian crown land, especially in <i>that</i> neighbourhood"--he spat on the +floor--"in +<i>that</i>----"</p> + +<p class="normal">A blow closed his mouth. The schoolmaster had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 63]</span> +jumped up from his seat; all his vaunted culture had disappeared. "Hold your +tongue!" he shouted, facing the tipsy inspector like a turkey-cock that has been +infuriated by a piece of red cloth. He was a delicate-looking fellow, a mere +stripling compared with the broad-shouldered inspector, but there was a +dangerous gleam in his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jokisch had, indeed, gone too far. "<i>Psia krew!</i>" cried +the priest, without knowing what he said, whilst the others shouted in the +wildest confusion, "Prove it, prove it!" He was to prove that he had the right +to say such things about Sophia Tiralla. They were all simply burning with +curiosity. What did he know of her, what, what? That anybody knew such things +about her only added to her charm and piquancy in their eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, fire away," said Schmielke in a jovial voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">The priest also smiled. He had often before listened to two +men quarrelling, for he knew very well that they would in the end always bow to +his judgment, although the matter was no concern of his.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know anything," said Jokisch, all at once quite +sober. Oh, what a fool he had been, suddenly flashed through his mind. If he now +said something about her, wouldn't they all believe that he had burnt his +fingers? So far nobody knew that he had tried to kiss her in the dark stone +passage at Starydwór a short time ago, and that she had given him a sound box on +the ears for it. He therefore entrenched himself behind his wife. "My wife says +she's a very bad housekeeper. My wife says she's very unkind to her husband. She +sleeps alone in her own room."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Alone? I say, really?" They were all delighted to hear it, +and their eyes again began to sparkle. And no wonder, he was such a horrid old +fellow.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 64]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"My wife says she would like to poison him, judging from the +way she looks at him." That was his highest trump card, but even that did not +seem to excite any indignation, for every one present was busily occupied in +devising a plan by which he could curry favour with the fair Sophia.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the priest smiled. "You're biassed, Mr. Jokisch, biassed. +There's nothing wrong with Mrs. Tiralla."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She's a good woman, a really good woman," agreed the +gendarme. "I came past the farm the other day on my way from the Przykop, and +found the servant lounging at the gate--Marianna Śroka, from Althof, you know, a +buxom lass, but awfully cheeky. 'Panje,' said she in a low voice, and crept +close up to me, 'Panje, there's murder in that house.' She pointed to the +Tirallas' house and made such eyes, she looked quite mad. She wouldn't let me +go. Then I got curious, and felt I must go into the house. The woman came out of +the room at once. 'Where's Mr. Tiralla?' I asked, and at the same moment I heard +a voice saying, 'Who is it, Sophia darling? Come in, come in, it's very +comfortable here.' He was in high spirits, and we were all very happy together, +although Marianna kept rolling her eyes about and winking at me quite openly as +if to say, 'Take care!' What a horrid person she is, a real serpent. And Mrs. +Tiralla is just like her husband, and continues to warm such a creature at her +bosom. She's a good mistress, you can take my word for that. 'Please,' she said, +and 'Thank you,' when Marianna brought something up from the cellar. But that's +just like that kind of person. She's as comfortable with them as she can +possibly be anywhere, and still she abuses them. I said to Mrs. Tiralla, 'How do +you like your +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 65]</span> +servant?'--I wanted to introduce the subject, but she answered, 'Oh, she's very +good, very good,' and praised her highly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"A very nice feature," remarked the priest.</p> + +<p class="normal">Everybody was filled with indignation against Jokisch. How +dared he say a single word against Mrs. Tiralla, even when he was drunk? The +schoolmaster had been quite right this time. Jokisch was to keep a civil tongue +in his head. He was a henpecked husband, a tattler. All the bachelors jeered at +the inspector. Little Ziëntek poured the dregs from his tumbler over his head, +and when he resisted, and snorted and swore loudly as he hit about him, they +drew the chair from under him, so that he sat down on the floor on which +everybody had been spitting. On any other occasion the gendarme would have +separated the men, but now he looked on with the utmost calm. It served the man +quite right. The priest had at first watched the proceedings very doubtfully, +and had kept an eye on the door to see if anybody were spying upon them. But +when the others took their tumblers, and, following Ziëntek's example, poured +the dregs over the man's head, he almost split his sides with laughing.</p> + +<p class="normal">He saw, however, that it was about time for him to be going, +so he got up from his seat and disappeared as quietly as he had come; and the +men were laughing, quarrelling, and shouting so loudly that they hardly noticed +his departure.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster felt like a hero, as he tramped home through +the snow. He was her knight; he had just paid that vulgar, disgusting fellow +out. Jokisch had received the first and last kick from him as they all together +had conveyed the heavy man to the door. "Throw him out, that slanderer!" This +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 66]</span> +time they had all made common cause, all except the gendarme, who had retired at +the very last moment. He always did so when there was any quarrelling going on +in the private room at the inn, otherwise he would have been obliged to write +down the names of these disturbers of the peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stars shone down on the schoolmaster as he walked home all +alone; the cold wintry sky looked like a huge glass bell that had been put over +the flat country. The stars gave light; he could easily discern the empty +village street, which was as wide as the widest street in a big town--so wide +that it made the low cottages on either side look twice as low as they really +were. Böhnke stumbled along as though he were intoxicated. But that was not the +case, for he never drank too much, whatever the others might do. He was +tormented with an ambitious longing to win this woman. Mrs. Tiralla was always +very kind to him; he thought he had noticed that she also looked upon him as a +kindred spirit. To-morrow he would see little Rosa--that dreamy child who would +sit with a vacant stare on her face and not know what the others had been +talking about--and he would tell her to remember him very kindly to her mother, +and to ask her if she wanted anything to read during these long winter days. She +could take her choice among his books. He would gladly lend her them all, in +spite of the many hardships he had had to undergo in order to procure them. She +had certainly borrowed a volume from him almost three years ago; she had had it +almost the whole time he had been in the neighbourhood, and he would probably +never see it again. But he did not mind that. To-morrow he would again place his +library at her disposal. The best thing would be to write her a note and give it +to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 67]</span> +the child. He wrote a most beautiful hand, it looked like print. How the other +people in this neighbourhood did scrawl!</p> + +<p class="normal">The Gradewitz ball would cost him a lot of money, and he had +hardly any. But what did that matter? He would go there, even if he had to +borrow from the Jew. Happily there was always one thing he could do; if Isidor +Prochownik dunned him, his daughter Rebecca should lose her place in the +class--she should go down to the very bottom; but if the old man left him in +peace Rebecca should have a very high place. He laughed to himself at the +splendid idea. But then he turned scarlet, although there was nobody watching +him, only the starry heavens above him, and around him the deserted, sleeping +village. He was overcome with shame, for he felt that it was not right of him to +move Rebecca up and down just to please himself. But then he stifled all qualms. +What did it matter to that girl, who was so dirty, so stupid, so utterly +neglected, even if she did go down to the bottom? It was of no importance to +her. And he--he must go to the ball.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke dreamt that night of the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla. She +wore a silk dress, and had given him a decoration in the cotillon. He stretched +out an eager hand, and she pinned the gold paper-star on his breast. And then +she clung to him, the silk dress gave way, and her white bosom opened like a +book. "Read it," she said, smiling, "we two understand each other."</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a confused dream, for then followed all kinds of +nonsense which the young man could no longer remember when he awoke.</p> + +<p class="normal">He went to school next morning feeling like a schoolboy who +carries his first poem to his beloved one in his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 68]</span> +pocket, and is longing impatiently to give it to her. Although he had gone to +bed very late the evening before, he had got up early and had twice written a +note to Mrs. Tiralla. He had not been satisfied with it the first time, and had +therefore written it again. Rosa was now to take it to her. But when he went +into the schoolroom his eyes sought in vain for the pale, absent-looking face +under the mass of curly hair. All the brown, snub-nosed, sly-looking faces were +there, but Rosa Tiralla was wanting. This was a great disappointment. He was +more harsh and impatient than ever that day; he required his questions to be +answered at once, without any hesitation, otherwise he took the first book he +could lay hands on and hurled it over the forms. He could scarcely contain +himself, he felt so irritable. Why the deuce had that red-haired girl just +stopped away that day?</p> + +<p class="normal">As Rosa was again absent the next day and the day after that, +and as none of the children could tell him the reason why, he came to a +decision--he would go to Starydwór. She must be ill. Would it not be the proper +thing for him to make personal inquiries about his pupil?</p> + +<p class="normal">The crows were cawing over his head as he endeavoured to find +the path over the snow-clad fields. He could hardly see it, for there was only a +very faint trace left of the cart that had taken the milk from Starydwór to +Gradewitz early that morning. He shuddered as he wandered through the enormous +white fields. It was true they were no more melancholy-looking at this time of +the year than when full of turnips and ripe corn; but their uniform whiteness +seemed to give them a larger and more desolate appearance. Even the hares, as +they nibbled away at the few stalks that were left, and the birds of prey, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 69]</span> +as they lazily flapped their wings in the direction of the Przykop, did not +enliven their desolation; for the sluggish inertness of their movements, which +enabled passers-by to approach them quite closely, proved only too clearly how +very rarely they were disturbed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was it because he was not warmly enough dressed that he +trembled so? Böhnke put his hands to his face--ugh! how cold it was. His +top-coat was certainly very thin, it was only meant for summer wear; but he +really couldn't have put on that thick, rough coat he wore every day for school. +He was wearing his best black coat and kid gloves; his fingers were quite numb. +He would have liked to run, in order to get warm, but big lumps of snow clung to +his boots like lumps of lead. When he came in sight of the trees in the +low-lying Przykop, it was as though something were holding him back, and as +though the wind were pushing him back so as to prevent him from going any +further. And he was longing with all his heart to get to Starydwór as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">To the left lay the settlement--the distillery chimney reared +its head in the air like a big white asparagus--and there Jokisch lived. But he +would not live there much longer. When the land had been parcelled out and the +settlers had come, he would go. Thank God! Böhnke was filled with a vague +jealousy; they were neighbours, he and she, and he considered every neighbour +dangerous. Jokisch was certainly a fine-looking man, and Böhnke felt firmly +convinced that he also found Mrs. Tiralla very fascinating, in spite of all he +had said to the contrary, for who would not? Perhaps that was the very reason +why he had been so angry with her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the schoolmaster began to run. Who would +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 70]</span> +hinder him in getting to Starydwór as quickly as possible? There it lay.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old farm, which had been in the hands of the Tirallas for +over a hundred years, had rather an imposing look in the distance. Not much was +to be seen of the farmhouse itself--it was very low, as though sunk in the +ground--but the barns and stables, all roofed with new, red tiles, formed a wall +round the square courtyard in front of it, and the whole together constituted a +very fine property. But what good was it to her if she didn't love her husband?</p> + +<p class="normal">The young man cast one more look at his clothes, and then, +after flipping the snow off his trousers, walked through the open gateway, over +which was a figure of the Holy Virgin sitting on a throne, which was protected +by a grating. A couple of dogs rushed at his legs and barked; but he was not a +coward, although he was no giant, and a kick soon frightened the curs away. A +man stood in the stable door watching the schoolmaster as he walked up to the +farmhouse.</p> + +<p class="normal">What did the Starawieś schoolmaster want? Ha, ha, was he also +coming to kiss the mistress's hand? Somebody had already been there yesterday, +and the day before yesterday as well. How they all ran after her. But they had +no luck, thought Jendrek with a broad grin on his face. The Pani bestowed the +kindest look on him, and she gave him bacon every day in the kitchen, and an +extra glass of gin as well. God bless the good woman!</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke stepped into the stone passage, but nobody came. He +gave a loud cough; he had never been there before, and did not know where to +knock. He scraped his feet, and as there was still no sign of anybody he called +out in a polite voice, "May I come in? Hallo! is nobody at home?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 71]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then he heard Mr. Tiralla's voice coming from the room on the +right, "Come in, come in, it's very comfortable here."</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster knocked at the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Confound you! Come in, I say."</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke went in, but he at once drew back. Oh, he didn't wish +to disturb. But still he stood as though rooted to the spot, and stared and +stared. There was Mr. Tiralla lying all his length on the bench by the stove +with his head resting on his wife's lap.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla blushed crimson as their eyes met. Then she +lowered hers, and jumped up so hastily that the heavy man on her lap was in +danger of falling on the floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" cried the man, and then he laughed. Surely +she didn't feel shy, weren't they husband and wife?</p> + +<p class="normal">She answered nothing, but she glanced at her husband with such +an expression of disdain, and then looked so hopelessly out of the window, that +Böhnke at once knew that she was unhappy, and that her husband did not +understand her. And he felt his heart beat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it's you, Mr. Böhnke," she said in a friendly voice, and +held out her hand. It felt like velvet as it lay in his, but it was as cold as +ice. He ventured to press it slightly; but she did not return the pressure, she +only gave him a sad look out of her splendid eyes and smiled a little. Oh, that +poor woman! How he would have liked to give that abominable fellow a blow as he +lay on the bench.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was in a very good humour. He shouted to Marianna +to fetch beer and gin, and then told his wife to bring out some food. Böhnke +will be hungry--such a schoolmaster is always hungry--bring what +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 72]</span> +you can find: ham, eggs, cake, sausages, cheese, and what else you've got in the +larder. "We've got plenty." Then, without rising from the bench, he seized hold +of the schoolmaster with the words, "Take a seat, pray," and forced him down on +the nearest chair in spite of his resistance. "We're pleased to give you it. <i> +Psia krew</i>, only no excuses."</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke had stammered something about not wishing to give +trouble, about not being hungry, about going away immediately. But the farmer +had given a boisterous laugh as usual, and had said that the schoolmaster had +better tell that to the marines, for he didn't believe it. He had probably been +brought up in the same way as his wife, eh? She had always worn shoes and +stockings as a child, and had been as dainty-looking as a doll; but her little +bread-basket had been as empty as a barn before harvest. She had been as thin as +a church mouse in those days.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster saw Mrs. Tiralla give her husband a second +look, but there was more than disdain in her look this time--something else +gleamed in the depths of those dark eyes. Then she turned away and went out of +the room without saying a word.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heigh, Sophia, be quick!" shouted the man after her.</p> + +<p class="normal">And then he began singing her praises to the schoolmaster. Mr. +Tiralla loved to have visitors; he was so delighted to have an opportunity of +talking about his wife and his happiness to somebody. He bragged about +everything, and dilated loquaciously upon matters that a husband does not +generally mention to other men. His Sophia had a wonderful figure, a wonderful +figure! As slender as a birch! And she was so dainty, slim in the waist and +still rounded, broad across the hips, soft and warm like a partridge +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 73]</span> +or like one of those little pigs made of marzipan, which Wolkowitz, in Posen, +used to put in his window at Christmas time. And her bosom! Would you believe +that---- Lowering his voice but very little he was about to confide some more +intimate particulars to the young man. But the latter tore himself away from the +hand that was pressing him down on the chair. He had been fidgeting about on his +seat for some time, but now he felt he could stand it no longer. A burning blush +suffused his face--was it from shame or desire? Oh, that woman, that poor woman, +at the mercy of such a man! He was filled with an inexpressible repugnance for +this stout, coarse old man, who literally undressed his wife in the presence of +others. Could anybody blame her if she disliked him as much as Mrs. Jokisch had +said?</p> + +<p class="normal">The farmer had not noticed that the schoolmaster was +struggling with his feelings. It had not even struck him that he was silent. He +had found him a modest young man who did not talk much, and that was a good +thing, because then he was listening. Mr. Tiralla was very pleased with his +visitor.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna appeared with three bottles of beer under each arm +and a small tray with glasses in her hand. She looked hale and hearty, and there +was no trace left of that fearful indisposition which had attacked her at the +commencement of the winter. She scanned the visitor with sparkling, roguish +eyes. Would he in time become the Pani's lover? It wouldn't surprise her if she +got hold of one now. But this man--she made a grimace of disapproval--this man +wasn't half good-looking enough. And he didn't seem very enterprising either, +for he had never even glanced at her, although she had more than once touched +him with her sleeve and had reached right over him in +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 74]</span> +order to place the glasses and the six bottles on the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's enough for the present," said Mr. Tiralla. "But +listen, girl," he added, pinching her in the thigh so that she screamed aloud, +"go down to the cellar and fetch us another bottle of Tokay. And where's the +gin? You must have a glass to begin with, little Böhnke, or you'll catch cold. +Hallo, you little devil, why are you still there?" he roared at the maid, who +stood smiling and showing all her teeth. "Can't you understand me? Do you think +I'm speaking German? Isn't it Polish I'm speaking? She's very stupid," he said +apologetically, as the girl left the room with a bold laugh, "but she's +faithful--and she's pretty."</p> + +<p class="normal">He said this with a smile which horrified the schoolmaster +anew. Had it come to that? The man was not even faithful to her? Poor, poor +thing! He had never felt so sorry for anybody in his life, and he was not +soft-hearted as a rule. He longed for her return. She probably felt ashamed of +what had happened, otherwise she would have returned long ago.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was also growing impatient. The gin didn't taste +half so good if his Sophia hadn't taken the first sip of it, and he didn't care +for the beer at all. He shouted again for the maid, and when she came with the +bottle of Tokay and a large tray of eatables he said to her angrily, "Put it +down. Where's your mistress? <i>Psia krew</i>, what's become of her?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know why the Pani +doesn't come. <i>Gospodarz</i> must know best himself."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Confound you! Call her. She is to come."</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid disappeared. A few minutes later she stuck her head +in at the door and said with a sad look, "Pani can't come, the Paninka is worse +again; oh, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 75]</span> +she's very ill." Then she withdrew as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">The glass which Mr. Tiralla hurled after her only hit the +door, and then broke into a thousand pieces.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster could not stand it any longer. What was the +good of staying there? Of course, she wouldn't show herself any more. Such bad +luck! Why on earth should that stupid, red-haired child just get worse now? Or +was it only an excuse? Oh, of course, it was an excuse. She would be sitting +upstairs in a corner, bowed down with shame and weeping, weeping so much that +her beautiful figure--broad across the hips, a waist as slender as a birch, slim +and still rounded--shook with it. Although the young fellow tried his utmost not +to think of it, he could not help it; he saw her the whole time just as the old +man had described her to him. He changed colour; one moment he felt hot, the +next cold. Mr. Tiralla went on filling his glass with beer, gin, and Tokay, the +one after the other, and he drank more than he was accustomed to in his +absent-mindedness. He was thinking of nothing but her. He could not believe that +he was to leave the house without seeing her once more. So he sat and sat, until +the sky grew darker and darker and the early afternoon turned into pitch-dark +night. At last he rose from his chair with despair in his heart. He had attained +nothing of all he had meant to attain; he hadn't offered her any books, he +hadn't secured her for a dance at the Gradewitz ball, he hadn't even inquired +about the child, which had been his nominal reason for coming to Starydwór. He +felt furious with Mr. Tiralla; he was to blame for everything. Then he bade him +good night.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla did not accompany him to the door--little Böhnke +would be able to find it alone--so he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 76]</span> +groped his way through the dark passage to the front door, reeling a little as +he walked. Suddenly a warm hand grasped his, some one chuckled near him in the +dark, and the servant's deep voice said half compassionately, half mockingly, +"Did you find it slow with Pan Tiralla? I'm sorry. Pani is upstairs with little +Rosa. If Pan Böhnke wants to say good night to her----" she pushed him in the +direction of the stairs and disappeared in the dark, chuckling.</p> + +<p class="normal">Like a gnome, he thought--oh, no, like an angel. He was seized +with a superstitious terror. Everything seemed so strange; the old house, the +chuckling maid, the loud-voiced man, the beautiful woman. He began cursing all +the drink he had had and cursing Mr. Tiralla. Oh, if only he had been as sober +and as clear-headed as he generally was.</p> + +<p class="normal">The old staircase creaked under his feet. What would she say? +Wouldn't she consider him intruding if he came up to her? But weren't those +groans that he heard above the creaking of the stairs? That poor, beautiful +woman! He must go to her. Where was she?</p> + +<p class="normal">Now he was at the top. Hark, wasn't that the child's voice?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mother," he heard Rosa say, "sweet mother, I really did see +her, you can believe me. She was as beautiful, as beautiful as you. She had hair +like yours, when you undo your plaits. And she gave me the Child Jesus to hold. +I love it, I love it!" She repeated that several times with great fervour.</p> + +<p class="normal">What nonsense was the child talking? Of whom was she speaking? +The schoolmaster drew nearer to the door. Ah--he gave a start--ah, now she, Mrs. +Tiralla, was speaking. But he couldn't very well understand what she was saying, +she spoke so softly. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 77]</span> +And now and then she seemed to be sobbing. He knocked at the door and walked in. +Rosa was lying in bed and her mother was sitting on the bed near her. They both +stared at him in astonishment, but when he said with a voice that hesitated at +first, but then grew firmer, that he felt he couldn't leave without hearing how +she was, the child looked pleased.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm very well," she answered, with a shy smile. "Very well, +thank you, Panje Böhnke."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She's feverish," said her mother. "She fainted the day before +yesterday; Marianna came rushing down to tell us. We shall have to send for the +doctor if she doesn't get better."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no," cried the child, sitting up in bed and looking as +though she were going to cry. "I'm not ill, mother darling, I'm not ill." She +threw her arms round her mother and pressed her head against her breast.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster stepped up to the bed and laid his hand on +the child's head. No, <i>she</i> wasn't feverish, but he began to feel so as +soon as he came near that beautiful woman. He busied himself with Rosa; what was +the matter with her, wouldn't she soon come back to him?</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa nodded, and then raising her head from her mother's +breast, she pushed her tangled hair away from her face, which looked dazzlingly +white in spite of the freckles. Even Böhnke, in his agitation, noticed how +bright her dull eyes had become.</p> + +<p class="normal">"She dreams so much," said her mother sadly. "She frightens us +by screaming aloud in her sleep. And she talks in her sleep as well; Marianna is +really terrified. Oh, those awful dreams!" She sighed.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the schoolmaster did not inquire any further into the +matter. Little Rosa's dreams did not interest +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 78]</span> +him in the slightest, all he wanted to do was to give Mrs. Tiralla a proof of +his devotion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Would the Pani like to borrow some of my books?" he inquired. +"I shall be very pleased to bring some." And then wishing to give her a hint of +how he understood and pitied her, he took heart and added, "If people live such +a lonely life as the Pani does, and are so un----" he wanted to say "unhappy," +or "so little understood," but he faltered, and his veiled eyes looked longingly +at her. He did not know how it was, but he always lost his self-possession when +he was near her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She must have understood him in spite of his faltering, for +she sighed and said, "Ah, yes, Mr. Tiralla doesn't care much for reading. He +eats, drinks, sleeps, and----" she also faltered and blushed. And then she gave +him a long look out of her black eyes, so that his heart stood still. "I shall +be very grateful to you if you'll lend me some books," she continued in a soft +voice. "Mr. Tiralla doesn't like to spend money on them. Oh, I'm so fond of +reading beautiful tales, sentimental ones."</p> + +<p class="normal">The man was in the seventh heaven. So she wanted books? That +meant that he would often have a chance of coming to see her. For he would take +good care not to give Rosa the books; he would bring them himself, and never +more than one at a time. "I'll bring you some," he said, overjoyed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, not so loud, not so loud," begged Rosa, and her face was +burning. She had fallen back on the pillow, her eyes were wide open, but she +spoke as though in her sleep. "I hear her, sh, mother, sh!"</p> + +<p class="normal">What did she hear? The two looked at each other, whilst the +howling wind outside seemed to creep along the walls of the house like clinging +fingers. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 79]</span> +Böhnke shook his head; the child was really very peculiar.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mrs. Tiralla gave a slight shudder, and, bending over her +daughter's bed, she said in a strangely soft voice, "Go on listening, Rosa dear, +go on listening." Then she grasped the schoolmaster's hand and drew him out of +the room. "Come. She is already asleep."</p> + +<p class="normal">They stood outside in the dark. A murmuring sound was heard +from the bedroom, a few joyful exclamations and then Rosa's voice rose clear and +triumphant. Böhnke was full of amazement; what was the meaning of it all?</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla, who was still holding his hand, now whispered to +him, "I've no friend. I stand quite alone. I often wish I were dead."</p> + +<p class="normal">The young man pressed his burning, eager lips to her sleeve. +He felt almost stifled with emotion and stammered something hardly intelligible. +He was her friend, her faithful, devoted friend. He had already once been her +knight, but if she commanded, he would also be her dog. For ever and ever.</p> + +<p class="normal">If the schoolmaster had hoped for a proof of her favour he was +disappointed. She only pressed his hand, and oh, how icy-cold hers was, and how +firm. Her dainty hand could press as firmly as any man's. "I rely upon you, +Panje Böhnke," she whispered, and then, raising her voice, she added calmly and +distinctly, "Don't fall. Here's the staircase, here."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla's powerful voice was heard downstairs. "Where are +you, Sophia? Let the devil take hold of you by the tip of your shift. Why don't +you come to me, my little dove, my darling?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good night," she whispered hastily, once more pressing the +schoolmaster's hand.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He stood alone in the silent courtyard; there was no light in +the stables and sheds, the cattle made no sound. He felt oppressed. Did he dread +the walk through the lonely fields? Oh, no, on the contrary he was able to +breathe once more when he reached the open fields, and the howling wind threw a +whole load of snow into his face and over his clothes. "Ah," he drew a long, +trembling breath. But all at once he felt terrified. There came a long-drawn, +shrill whistle from the Przykop, a quite peculiar whistle. No bird screamed like +that, and no human being either. A shudder ran down his back; he was seized with +a superstitious fear, which he could not shake off again in spite of his common +sense and his education. That was the witch that whistled in the pitch-dark +Przykop.</p> + +<p class="normal">And he made the sign of the cross as the peasants do when they +hear the witch whistling, and spat on the snow that gleamed in spite of the +darkness. When that's done, the witch has lost her power and you need not follow +her.</p> + +<p class="normal"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 81]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Rosa Tiralla had seen visions; but whether they were good or +bad visions nobody knew. Marianna Śroka cried loudly when she brought the news +to the village, and her lover, Jendrek, confirmed it with a nod. The Paninka had +seen something, the Paninka was bewitched.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was deeply grieved about his Röschen, as deeply +grieved as he could possibly be about anything. He had already been looking out +for a husband for his little daughter--she would be fourteen next autumn, and a +wife cannot be too young-and now she seemed only fit for bed. The strong man had +never suffered from nerves--didn't even know what they were--but all sorts of +things happened nowadays to alarm him. Rosa was so irritable that she cried if +anybody spoke crossly to her. The doctor advised them not to treat her harshly, +for she cried so bitterly that she became quite hysterical. And after the attack +was over she was so feeble that she could not move a limb, and looked exactly +like somebody who was going to die; so that her father in his terror used to +say, "yes," and "my angel," "everything you like, my angel."--nothing but "my +angel."</p> + +<p class="normal">And Röschen imagined that she was always surrounded by angels. +She thought her father, Marianna, and Jendrek were angels, but especially she +thought her mother one. Pan Böhnke was also an angel. He +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 82]</span> +often came to see her, and then he and her dear mother would sit by her bedside +and talk to each other, and their voices would sound so soft and low that her +eyes would close, and she would fall into a sweet sleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had never imagined that she could feel so much +love for her daughter. She was really fond of her now. Marianna would on no +account sleep any longer in the same room as Rosa; she said that it was +impossible to close an eye the whole night through, and if she worked so hard +during the day she really must rest at night. The truth was that when Marianna +stole out of bed in order to go to her lover, the child would sit up in bed and +call out, "Where are you going, Marianna?" and there was such a strange note of +reproach and admonition in her voice, that the girl shuddered and did not +venture to go to Jendrek. How had the child found it out?</p> + +<p class="normal">So Mrs. Tiralla had her bed brought up to her daughter's room. +Her husband cursed and raged, for hitherto he had at least had his wife next to +him on the same floor. But she insisted upon having her own way. She said that +Röschen wanted care, and mustn't sleep alone. And he saw that she was right.</p> + +<p class="normal">At night, when the house was so quiet that the ticking of the +big clock sounded like peals of thunder and her husband's snores like a saw-mill +hard at work, Mrs. Tiralla would sit by her child's bed. She would hold her +hand--a small, narrow, delicate-looking hand with blue veins--and they would +whisper together about the joys of Paradise. Whilst all around was joyless--the +dark night, the lonely farm buried in deep snow, the solitude in which a soul so +often gets lost--those two would whisper together about the joys of +Paradise--about nothing else.</p> + +<p class="normal">The heavenly world in which Mrs. Tiralla had also +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 83]</span> +lived as a child had once more drawn near to her by means of Rosa. She could +very well understand what occupied the child's thoughts to the exclusion of +everything else. And that was right, for she was to be a saint. Was she not +almost one now? There was a rapt expression in Rosa's eyes, when she used to +tell her mother about what she had seen, about the Holy Mother and the Child +Jesus, and about her beautiful, beautiful guardian angel who always sat at her +bedside when she was asleep. A short time before, she had suddenly awaked in the +night, but had been too tired to open her eyes properly, and she had found the +angel bending over her--such a beautiful angel in a long white garment.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla knew all about it. It had been she, and the white +garment was her nightdress, which was long and fine, like those worn by smart +ladies. But she let the child remain in her belief. Why undeceive her? And after +that she used to creep every night to Rosa's bed and disturb her sleep by laying +her hand on her head and bending over her as if she were her guardian angel, to +the child's and her own great delight. She loved doing it. She even practised +her part, so that she grew more and more proficient in it every night.</p> + +<p class="normal">In the daytime, Mrs. Tiralla would rummage in her drawers and +show Rosa the things she had possessed as a child, precious relics which she +devoutly kissed. These were consecrated beads, a consecrated palm branch, a +little white china angel, a vessel for holy water and many gaudy pictures of +saints, which her priest had once given her. Then she would relate something +about each of these treasures as they lay on the child's bed. She would speak in +a low, monotonous whisper, as though praying and with a dreamy smile on her +face, and would gradually work herself +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 84]</span> +up into such a state of eagerness and excitement that her radiant eyes would +become veiled, and, bursting into tears, she would sink down on the child's bed. +Then mother and daughter would weep in each other's arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa's tears were tears of ecstatic rapture and longing, of a +great longing for something she could not name--the dear Virgin, the dear little +Child Jesus, the dear guardian angel and all the dear saints. She knew them all; +she knew the history of every martyr that now wore a halo. Her mother had read +about them aloud to her again and again from the book of holy legends that she +had brought out of the gaily painted chest in which she, as a girl, had kept her +belongings.</p> + +<p class="normal">How splendid it must be to live like those holy women. If you +were like St. Julia or St. Helena, or even St. Agnes, you would get leave to +nurse the Child Jesus in Paradise, and rock it and sing it to sleep with +hallelujah.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Rosa was all alone she would try to sing the heavenly +lullaby; she would try to take the highest notes with her small, weak voice, and +make them sound soft and harmonious instead of shrill and piping.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the servants in the yard used to say, "St. Panusia is +singing," and they would listen devoutly to the long-drawn song, sounding like a +chant, that came from Rosa's bedroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rosa never felt quite satisfied with her lullaby, and +often burst into tears. It must be because she didn't pray fervently enough, +because she was far from being good and pure enough. So she wrote down all her +sins on a piece of paper in her stiff, uneven handwriting, that she might not +forget any of them--there was a long row of them--and she made up her mind to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 85]</span> +confess them all and get forgiveness for them as soon as the snow was so far +melted that she could go to the priest.</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not attend school at present, not being strong enough +to walk all the way from Starydwór to Starawieś.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. and Mrs. Tiralla were preparing to go to the Gradewitz +ball in spite of the snow and the bad roads. They hoped they would be able to +get through all right. Mr. Tiralla could never have brought himself to let an +opportunity pass of gloating over the many eager eyes that would watch his wife +in the mazes of the dance, whilst he sat comfortably in the corner of the +ballroom with his glass and his cards.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was a very good dancer, and her heart beat as she +unpacked the ball-dress her husband had ordered for her from a fashionable +dressmaker in Posen. She could very well have worn her blue silk again if the +rats had not been nibbling it! However, this filmy white gauze, with its long +flowing sash and a small bouquet of artificial roses for the bodice and another +for the hair, was certainly much prettier; there was an underskirt of silk, too, +which rustled and swished every time she moved.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was dressing in the large sitting-room on the +ground floor. The bedroom upstairs was too cold, so Marianna had brought the +looking-glass down and had fixed it up on a table by means of some pieces of +wood, and placed two lighted candles in front of it. Mrs. Tiralla was doing her +own hair. The Gradewitz dressmaker would have been asked to do it, as she was +also the hairdresser of the neighbourhood, but she had taken offence when she +heard that Mrs. Tiralla had got her ball-dress from Posen.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla did not crimp her hair as a rule, but to-day she +got a waving-iron, and she and Marianna did it together. The maid was by no +means clumsy, although she had such big hands, and she helped her mistress to +pile up her wavy hair at the top of her head. But when at last it was ready, +Mrs. Tiralla thought it so hideous, that she burst into tears and tore it down +with an angry "<i>Psia krew!</i>" which made Rosa shrink. The child was +crouching in a dark corner of the room with her hands clasped round her knees, +gazing with admiration at the beautiful vision in the white embroidered +petticoat.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ugh! how difficult it was to please the mistress this evening; +now she wanted this, now that. If Marianna had not consoled herself with the +thought that she would soon be mistress of the house for a whole night, she +would have cried instead of laughing pleasantly as she was doing now. "Pani must +do her hair in her usual way," she said. "That suits Pani best of all."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She is right," sighed Mrs. Tiralla, as she began once more to +comb out her tangled hair, and she tore at it so savagely that at last her +silky, black tresses clung to her white temples in big, smooth waves. Then she +twisted the plaits in a huge coil at the nape of her neck; that was the way she +had worn her hair in her girlhood, and that suited her best.</p> + +<p class="normal">"By Jove, you look like a little girl, my love," smirked her +husband from his seat, on the bench near the stove, where he was lying as usual +in spite of his clean shirt, black coat, and hair covered with pomade. "Many +people will envy me to-night."</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer; she felt annoyed with him. Wasn't it +disgraceful of him to lie there in his new, clean clothes, just as though he had +his greasy, everyday coat on?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 87]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"How beautiful, oh, how beautiful," whispered Rosa, who had +crept out of her corner and was kneeling before her mother with both hands +raised as though worshipping her. Mrs. Tiralla had now put her ball-dress on, +and the snowy-white gauze fell round her like a fleecy cloud. She thought +herself that she looked beautiful, just like a young girl. Ah! A slight but +burning pain made her tremble. How sad to think that all this beauty was to +wither away at her husband's side--always at her husband's side. All at once she +was seized with a violent fit of fury, one of those sudden attacks which +deprived her for a time of her senses. "Get up," she said to Rosa coldly, as the +child gently stroked her dress. "Get up. Why do you do that? You're soiling my +dress."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa began to cry.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why do you frighten her so?" exclaimed Mr. Tiralla +reproachfully; he could not bear to hear his daughter cry. "Come here, my +Röschen, my little lady-bird; leave your mother, she's in a bad humour to-day. +Come to me, Röschen, my sweetheart, come; take hold of my coat, you won't soil +that."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, go, go!" and the woman dragged her dress so violently +away from the clinging hands that a flounce came undone. Then she grew still +more furious, for now the dress would have to be sewn. She scolded Rosa in a +loud voice, and the child gazed at her with a strange look in her dilated eyes. +Could angels scold as well? Alas, she must have done something very bad, must +have been a very good-for-nothing girl if the angel scolded her. She crept back +into her corner sobbing in a subdued fashion.</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's right, be angry, it suits you," said Mr. Tiralla, +laughing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Neither of the parents took any more notice of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 88]</span> +child. The father rose from the bench when he heard the crack of Jendrek's whip, +as the carriage drove up to the front door. It was late. If they wanted to be +there in time they would have to start at once, as it would take quite two hours +to drive to Gradewitz to-night with the roads in such a condition.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Dalej</i>, my dear," he said, holding his wife's fur cloak +for her, in a sudden fit of politeness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna drew her master's thickest woollen socks over her +mistress's dainty shoes. "Oh, what beautiful little shoes," she exclaimed +ingratiatingly. "Pani mustn't walk in the snow with her beautiful feet."</p> + +<p class="normal">As the woman bent forward in order to help the maid, her +husband threw a look at her low-necked dress and smirked. Then he pressed a +resounding kiss on her smooth, cool neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid screamed with laughter, and continued to do so long +after the carriage had jolted out of the gate. She and Jendrek had accompanied +them so far, each carrying a lantern for fear they should fall into any of the +dangerous holes in the unpaved yard made by the pigs and poultry, and now +covered with loose snow.</p> + +<p class="normal">The child remained alone in the big, stifling room, into the +dark corners of which the light from the two flickering candles on the table +could not penetrate.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla sat with closed eyes behind her husband, whose +broad back kept off the wind. They could not have taken any other carriage, as +it would have been upset on the bad roads. It was difficult enough even for this +open conveyance, with its big, clumsy wheels, to get along, for sometimes the +wheels would be high up, sometimes low down, it all depended on whether there +was more or less ice in the ruts.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">How awful it was to live in such a flat country. Mrs. Tiralla +sighed, as she sat wrapped up in her fur cloak and many shawls. The schoolmaster +was right, this was no place for her. Life in these surroundings made one feel +quite strange. She had, indeed, been born for something else. Had not her priest +said to her even in the old days when she was still so young, "Thou art chosen +amongst many"? And what had been her lot? The woman flashed a furious look +through her half-closed lids at the man sitting in front. Now he was taking her +once more to be exhibited, just like a breeder who wishes to win a prize for the +animal he has kept in such good condition.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was filled with a wild fury; she would have liked +to hurl her husband out of the carriage. If only he were lying in the snow; if +only the wheels would go over him; if only she could seize the reins and whip up +the horses, "<i>Huj</i>, <i>het!</i>" Free, free! But--then her head drooped and +a sudden sadness came over her--she had not the courage to do it. She had put +the rat poison in the lumber-room in the old gaily painted chest from her +girlhood, where nobody would look for it. She had told her husband that the rats +had eaten it all, and he had believed her. He had not been surprised that they +had not found any dead rats, for it is a well-known fact that animals hide in +any hole they can find when they have been poisoned. There they die. If only she +had not been so terrified when Marianna shrieked "Poison, poison!" How awful it +would be if that big man were to roll his eyes and foam at the mouth and shriek, +"Poison, poison!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Holy Mother!" she said to herself as she folded her hands +under her fur cloak, "look down on me. Thou gracious one, lend me thy assistance +in what +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 90]</span> +I'm about to do." To do it alone was too great an undertaking; would she ever, +ever find courage to do it again? It had not seemed so difficult the first time. +But the saints had not willed it; the maid, that idiot! had upset the coffee, +and her husband had not got a single drop of it. What a pity, thought Mrs. +Tiralla regretfully. How could she have felt so happy that morning when she saw +her husband sitting at the breakfast-table safe and sound? He grew more and more +repugnant to her every day. How long--how long would she have to bear it? Had +Heaven no understanding? So many husbands died and left wives to weep and mourn +for them, and he--he--she wouldn't shed a single tear for him, she was sure of +that. She would laugh, laugh! Ha, and to-night she would dance, dance! She felt +as though she must deaden all feeling.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The Tirallas were anxiously awaited. The ball had no +attraction as long as Mrs. Tiralla was not there.</p> + +<p class="normal">As their carriage rumbled up to the market-place little +Ziëntek, in evening dress and a tall hat on his fair hair, rushed to the hotel +door to receive them. Thank goodness, there they were! He, as master of the +ceremonies, had suffered agonies at their nonarrival. What should they have done +with all those bouquets for the cotillon? Half of them would have been enough.</p> + +<p class="normal">A good many of the guests had congregated on the dirty, +straw-covered pavement, in order to watch, by the feeble light from the lantern +that swung backwards and forwards in the wind, the fair Sophia get down. Many +eager hands were stretched out to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 91]</span> +assist her, but she did not seem to notice them. She gave a neat jump, and next +moment stood on the stone steps, over which a piece of old carpet had been laid, +shaking out her skirts. She did not wait until her husband had got down, but, +walking straight into the cloak-room, took off her things, gave a peep into the +dingy glass, and was dancing the mazurka with Mr. Schmielke when Mr. Tiralla +entered the ballroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">He at once looked out for a seat for himself. Let her dance, +he liked her to do so. He was not afraid of her virtue, for she was as cold as +ice; you had to be thankful when she did not scratch your eyes out. She had been +trying him very sorely lately. Since Röschen's illness she would have nothing to +do with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he played a game with Count Jagodziúski, the cards for +which (a pack soiled by much usage and many dirty fingers) the Count at once +produced from the back-pocket of his coat. What did it matter to Mr. Tiralla if +he lost three or four pounds? It amused him when the Count won them, for that +was the only harvest the poor devil had nowadays.</p> + +<p class="normal">The Count was not accustomed to have such an indulgent +opponent; everybody else used to keep a strict eye on him except Mr. Tiralla. In +his heart the gallant old Count pitied the latter's beautiful wife. Poor thing, +to have such a fool of a husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was like a flame, in spite of her white dress and +her cheeks that never got red--hot, but never red--for she set fire to the whole +ballroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">Crimson and white flags, that swayed incessantly backwards and +forwards in the draught created by the dancers as they whirled past, had been +fixed to the bare wooden partitions, through which the wind whistled straight +from the plain. The withered garlands, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 92]</span> +that had been there since the Sokol's<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_92a" +href="#ftn_92a">[A]</a></sup> last entertainment, rustled softly as they hung +from one flagstaff to the other. The boards on the floor were only loosely laid +down, and moved up and down under the hopping and gliding of many feet. If a +foot happened to stamp a little more than usual, or a couple to fall down with a +crash, then clouds of dust would whirl up and obscure the light from the +swinging paraffin lamp, round which twelve candles, fixed in a metal disc, were +flickering. A stove roared in the corner. The wall behind it had been scorched +by the heat, and in front a large iron-plated screen had been placed, in order +to protect the women's dresses from the sparks that flew out of the open door.</p> + +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_92a" href="#ftnRef_92a"><sup class="ftnRef"> + A</sup></a> + A Polish gymnastic society.</p></div> +<br> +<p class="normal">The piano stood on a platform, which was now and then used as +a stage; and there was a pianist from Gnesen, not at all a bad player, who was +supported by a violin and a double-bass. The musicians played with a good deal +of rhythm, a fiery rhythm that carried the dancers away. People danced well in +Gradewitz. Schmielke's dancing was nothing special here, although it had been +considered exceedingly good at home. The girls were as light as soap-bubbles; +even stout Miss Trampel, the baker's daughter, and the stupid, snub-nosed Miss +Musiëlak, the stationmaster's daughter, danced like feathers; still, they were +not in very much request.</p> + +<p class="normal">Little Jadwiga, the rich mill-owner's daughter, who was +wearing a brand-new pale blue cashmere frock, cut square in front, which left +her neck bare as far as the freckles went, did not meet with as much success as +could be expected from her dress, which the Gradewitz dressmaker had declared to +be her masterpiece. And even Mariechen Rózycki, whose very red arms +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 93]</span> +and hands stuck out of a pink silk blouse, had to look on, while one man after +another marched over to Mrs. Tiralla. It was a bitter blow.</p> + +<p class="normal">The girls put their heads together in the intervals between +the dances. All of them, whether fair or dark, brown or red, had had their hair +done exactly in the same way. The Gradewitz hairdresser had waved their front +hair and made it into an enormous roll over the forehead, with the help of some +padding. And then she had made three puffs of the back hair, which she had +placed at the top of the head. The only difference between them all was the +greater or lesser quantity of hair they had, and the colour of the little bow +placed coquettishly on the left side.</p> + +<p class="normal">How awful these young girls looked. The one in bright pink, +the other in bright blue, the third in almost orange, the fourth in the colour +of arsenic. And then the women! Mrs. Rózycki, the butcher's wife, shone in a +stiff silk--dark reddish brown, trimmed with yellow lace--not at all bad in +itself, but how common her fat face looked over her tight silk bodice that +seemed ready to burst. And then the others! Mrs. Jokisch, in black, trimmed with +mauve and a white lace collar, looked exactly like her own grandmother. How a +man's soul seems to show itself in his garments. Mr. Böhnke, the schoolmaster, +stood in a corner of the ballroom criticizing the company. He had never laid so +much weight on appearances before--his mother was a very unassuming woman, and +his sisters, oh, dear!--but he had been spoiled since he had made Mrs. Tiralla's +acquaintance. She was always beautiful, and especially so this evening. He +almost devoured her with his eyes. How splendid she looked in that dainty white +dress. She was harmony personified in this confused mass of gaudy +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 94]</span> +colours. The only coloured thing about her was her smooth, silky dark hair, with +the rosebuds in it, and the little bouquet at her bosom.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was the only one who was wearing a low-necked dress. Such +a thing had never been the fashion in Gradewitz, where it was only customary to +expose the throat and shoulder-blades. It was really extremely indecent to be so +uncovered; but none of the women would have dared say that aloud, and the young +girls even less. Next time, however, that there was a ball in Gradewitz, all the +dresses should be made like Mrs. Tiralla's. The men seemed to approve of it. +Even the most innocent children noticed how their fathers' eyes glittered as +they looked down at Mrs. Tiralla's shoulders.</p> + +<p class="normal">Sophia Tiralla did not seem to notice all these looks. She +gave herself up to the pleasures of the dance like a child--like a little +innocent child. All her misery had been wiped away for this short hour. What did +it matter to her that all these men stared at her in the same way as her husband +always did? Her blood did not course more quickly on that account. Let them! She +laughed at them, laughed! If they had known that she had almost killed a human +being! Almost poisoned her! She was seized with a nervous inclination to laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Mr. Schmielke whispered to her, as he pressed her to his +heart in the gliding waltz, "My beautiful one, the sweetest rose in Poland"--he +thought that very fine, really poetical--"I'm dying of love for you," she +laughed in his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're dancing very badly, Mr. Schmielke," she said, and next +moment flew past him in little Ziëntek's arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" Mr. Schmielke had already accustomed +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 95]</span> +himself to the Polish way of swearing. That hop o' my thumb, that little milksop +of a post office clerk, had better try to come near him, he would soon take him +in hand. He called himself master of the ceremonies, and his duty was obviously +to provide for the entertainment of the guests. Why, he was thinking of nobody +but himself--the perjurer, the liar! the vain little Pole!</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Ziëntek danced much better than the Prussian +tax-collector, but even he found no favour in Mrs. Tiralla's eyes. She finished +the dance with him; but just as he, with laboured breath and beating pulse, was +about to commence an intimate, low-toned conversation with her, she nodded an +absent-minded "Thanks," without listening to what he was saying, and was +immediately carried off by Mr. Rózycki, the butcher.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rózycki was a capital dancer, in spite of his stoutness. He +had dragged on a pair of white kid gloves, and was enjoying himself so much that +the perspiration was streaming down his face and falling in big drops on to his +partner's shoulder. But that was quite immaterial to Mrs. Tiralla at the present +moment, and she did not mind either if it were butcher or baker or post office +clerk with whom she was dancing, as long as she could dance. But not with Mr. +Tiralla, she would not have liked to dance with him. As their eyes met, and he +raised his glass and gave her a pleasant nod, she frowned gloomily and took no +notice of him. She looked very worn at that moment; all her youthfulness seemed +to have disappeared.</p> + +<p class="normal">But that was only for a moment, and her face became quite +smooth again as she whirled round the room with her skilful partner, against +whose body she was constantly knocking. He remained in the middle +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 96]</span> +of the room with her, just under the chandelier, so that everybody could see him +and her. He felt as though he were the king of the ball. He would soon stop his +wife's tongue if she should venture later on to reproach him for having danced +so long with Sophia Tiralla. He had now danced three times round the room with +her without stopping, he didn't seem to be able to tire her out. However, when +he felt that he could not dance any longer, he drew a deep breath, gave an +exultant cheer, and lifted his charming partner right up into the air.</p> + +<p class="normal">Deafening cheers resounded through the ballroom. The men were +like mad. They pushed and buffeted and pressed round the snow-white little lamb +under the chandelier like rams that had been let loose.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla did not utter a sound as her strong partner +raised her from the ground. Her lips were scarlet, her little nostrils trembled, +her eyes laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">A feeling of deep dejection came over her later on when she +was sitting at the table with Mr. Schmielke, with Ziëntek on the other side, and +her husband opposite to her. She did not want to eat anything; when she saw how +Mr. Tiralla was devouring his food she lost her appetite. All at once she felt +she had had enough of it all; the dance nauseated her as well as the food. For +to-morrow she would again be alone with her husband at Starydwór. The more court +the men paid her that evening the more she abhorred him. There was nobody here +who could have charmed her. This Mr. Schmielke at her side, bah! True, all the +girls ran after him, and he was constantly whispering some amorous nonsense in +her ear and secretly pressing his knee against her dress, and seeking her foot. +But she could have lived a hundred years on a desert island with him, and he +would never have been dangerous to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 97]</span> +her. And Ziëntek, that little fair-haired fellow, what did she care for such a +stupid boy? Her lip curled with a disdainful smile. What did she care for all +the others, those husbands who cooed round her like pigeons? On the whole, what +did she care for all the men in the world? She felt herself infinitely superior +to them all; her hand remained cool in spite of the most ardent pressure; no hot +blood ever flew to her head. And still she would rather have given herself to +any one of them than to her husband. It angered her that he should show so +little jealousy. Was he so sure of her? What would he say if she chose somebody +else?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her eyes began to rove about--big, restless eyes, that +wandered all over the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Schmielke intercepted such a glance, and took it as an +encouragement. What, was he to conquer this little woman after all? He boldly +pushed his chair still nearer to hers, for he knew that audacity had more effect +upon women than anything else. He had drunk a considerable amount during the +course of the evening, and he went on drinking during supper: a glass of Tokay +with the salad, beer with the roast pork and duck, and now he ordered a bottle +of Moselle with the vanilla ice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Others followed his example. Count Jagodziúski would not be +satisfied with anything less than champagne, for Mr. Tiralla's silver was +burning a hole in his pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">They all grew very animated. The gentlemen in their black +clothes showed they had fists, and now and then one of them banged on the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">The tightly-laced Mrs. Rózycki gave a loud shriek--the man +next to her had tickled her. Her daughter Mariechen dung languishingly to her +neighbour, the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 98]</span> +forester's young pupil, with whom she was already very much in love. They had +all been rather stiff and shy when they entered the ballroom a few hours before, +but now they showed that they could eat, drink, and be merry. Enormous +quantities of food disappeared; Mr. Tiralla alone had eaten a whole duck. The +women especially liked the ice, for they were so very, very hot, and all that +beer and sweet wine had made them still hotter. The men cast ardent glances at +their neighbours; it was immaterial to them now if it happened to be Sophia +Tiralla or anybody else, for they were all nice. And the glances were returned. +The young girls were no longer so shy.</p> + +<p class="normal">They threw themselves back in their chairs and laughed as they +listened with glistening eyes and red ears to the young men's compliments. The +married people told each other tales; Mr. Tiralla especially excelled in that. +Mrs. Jokisch, the inspector's wife, who sat next to him, gave him a tap on his +mouth; but you couldn't be angry with him, all the same, she said, however +horrid he was. Thereupon he pressed a resounding kiss on her cheek. And then he +kissed the baker's wife, who was sitting next to him on the other +side--otherwise she would have been offended--and neither of them made any +resistance. They evidently didn't find him so repugnant, thought Mrs. Tiralla, +much surprised.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster sat stiff and silent amongst them all. Their +mirth disgusted him. What a party! And he had thought he should meet people like +himself there. Raising a pair of reproachful eyes, he caught a glance from Mrs. +Tiralla. She looked at him for a second, and her face, that a moment before had +been so bright, became more and more serious. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 99]</span> +Then she raised her glass a little, gave him a slight nod, and emptied it in one +draught.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt so happy whilst she looked at him, so elated; but only +for a few moments. For Mr. Tiralla, who had noticed his Sophia's nod, now also +wanted to show some politeness to little Böhnke, who walked out so regularly to +see them all, and brought his Sophia books and the latest news, and sat for +hours with the child. It was really very kind of him. So Mr. Tiralla also raised +his glass and bawled at the top of his voice, so that everybody could hear it, +"Your health, little Böhnke. Have you nothing to drink? Come here, sonny, you +can get something from me. <i>Dalej</i>, <i>dalej</i>, why aren't you coming?"</p> + +<p class="normal">All eyes were fixed on the schoolmaster, who said "Thanks" in +a curt voice and without looking at the farmer, but did not move.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then all the others raised their glasses as well. "Your good +health, Mr. Böhnke."</p> + +<p class="normal">Had none of them noticed how rude that was of Mr. Tiralla? +Böhnke's blood boiled. He, the schoolmaster, whose mission it was to train the +young--he, the only one there who could lay claim to any education, he was to +stand that?"<i>Dalej</i>, <i>dalej!</i>" the peasant had shouted at him, as if +he were his stableboy or his farm horse. Was he to put up with that? Was he +really obliged to put up with it? No, no, no! The slim-looking schoolmaster was +on the point of jumping up from his seat, but he got no further. He had again +caught a glance from Mrs. Tiralla, and he had understood what those black eyes +were saying to him. His fury subsided as he remained quietly in his place, but +deep down in his heart there was born a hatred for Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">The dancing recommenced after supper, but the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 100]</span> +feet did not trip as lightly as before, and they did not always agree; for when +the man's foot went to the left, his partner's wanted to go to the right. The +dancers also fell down more frequently. The boards shook, and the clouds of dust +became thicker and thicker. The ballroom was gloomy and oppressive.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla's dress no longer flew about as it had done +during the first part of the evening. She was standing in the cloak-room with +Mariechen Rózycki, who was sobbing bitterly, whilst old Piasecka, the attendant, +whose business it was also to carry "In Memoriam" cards round, was busily +rubbing her. "Oh, my pink blouse!" wailed the girl, "my beautiful blouse!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The forester's pupil, the idiot, had poured a whole glass of +beer down the front of it, when she was tenderly leaning against him just before +they left the table. She was beside herself with grief.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You can send it to Spindler in Berlin," said Mrs. Tiralla +consolingly. "There is also a very good dry cleaner in Posen. Why, child!" she +exclaimed, putting her finger under the girl's chin and raising her face, that +was quite swollen with crying, "surely you aren't crying for the sake of a +blouse?"</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once it seemed so infinitely futile to cry on account +of a spoilt blouse. Mrs. Tiralla had quite forgotten that she also had shed +tears on account of her hair just before she had left home. She felt so much +more unhappy now, really so miserable. She would have liked to stop up her ears +so as not to hear that twanging music. The dancing disgusted her. She had never +gone to a dance as a child. What would her priest have said if he had seen her +that evening? Father Szypulski was not so strict; but she would be strict with +herself. She wouldn't go into the ballroom +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 101]</span> +again, she would drive home and sit by Rosa's bed and be her guardian angel. +Perhaps she would then see some of those wonderful things that had been revealed +to the child. She would pray for it, pray for happy dreams. She longed so +ardently, so impatiently for happiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">She called to a waiter who was running past in a short black +jacket and a white apron spotted with gravy, and sent him back to her husband. +Would Mr. Tiralla kindly tell them to bring the carriage round, it was time to +be going? The cocks were already crowing in the little yards behind the +labourers' cottages. </p> + +<p class="normal">She remained standing in the cloak-room, gloomily gnawing her +Up, with Mariechen, who was still sobbing on account of her blouse, as her +companion. She had hidden herself behind the clothes-rack, nobody would discover +her there. Vain hope! Scarcely had the waiter given the message than the whole +flock of her partners came rushing in. Sophia Tiralla wanted to go--go away now? +But they wouldn't let her go, even if they had to make a wall of their bodies +before the door. Ziëntek wrung his hands in despair; if she went away the whole +cotillon would be spoilt, that up-to-date cotillon with all those bouquets.</p> + +<p class="normal">They discovered her and brought her out from behind the rack. +They begged, flattered, teased, threatened, and swore loudly that they wouldn't +let her go, she would have to remain and dance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Of course she'll stop and dance!" bawled Mr. Tiralla from the +doorway leading into the ballroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">What, he as well? No, she wouldn't stop, not even a quarter of +an hour longer, hissed the woman like a serpent that has been trodden on. "Tell +the carriage to come round," she said to the waiter in a curt, shrill voice. +Then, without looking at her husband, she +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 102]</span> +added, "I'm going. If you don't want to go, you can stop. I'm going."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla looked very discomfited; but then he grew angry. +What, to be so horrid to him before all those people? A wife had to obey. He was +the one who had to decide. He was very drunk, or it would never have occurred to +him to oppose his wife's wishes in this way. And that was what made him now +shout, "Confound you, woman! You shall not drive; for I intend stopping here as +long as I choose--until six, seven, or eight o'clock, if I choose."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Stop," she said icily, but her eyes glowed. "Then I'll walk."</p> + +<p class="normal">No, she couldn't do that, surely she wouldn't do that. That +would be quite impossible through <i>that</i> +snow.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she did not listen to her admirers' persuasions; she tore +her fur cloak down from the peg and threw her shawl over her head. She felt that +if they did not let her go she would burst into tears--into loud, hopeless +tears. She stamped her foot defiantly; why did they all stare at her with such +stupid, glassy eyes? And Mr. Tiralla, was he already asleep?"<i>Dalej!</i>" she +said curtly, and her voice sounded like the cut of a whip, "<i>dalej!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">He obeyed her. What else was there for him to do if his dear +little wife was so anxious to get home? "Women are amorous little doves," he +lisped, "they always want to be going home to their nests." Laying his arm +heavily round her neck he stammered caressingly, "Yes, yes, I'm coming, my dove, +only have patience." And then he gave such a sly wink with his glassy eyes that +the men broke into a laugh, which resembled nothing so much as a horse +whinnying.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had shrunk back. A wave of burning +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 103]</span> +colour mounted to her pale face. Oh, if he treated her in that way, was it +surprising that they all ran after her like that? But they should not imagine +that she was ready to cast herself into the arms of the first man who came +along--far from it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Throwing her head back with a curt, scornful movement, and +restraining her tears with the utmost strength of will, she said, forcibly +jerking out every word, for she could hardly speak, her lips trembled so, "You +can lie on the threshold, as you've done before, you braggart!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Now the laugh was on her side. They were all delighted to +think that Mr. Tiralla had been reprimanded in that way. Why did he brag like +that? They also found favour with the ladies, but they didn't boast of it in +that way. What did this vulgar peasant want with such a dainty little wife? A +milkmaid would have been good enough for him. They all applauded the little +woman, who seemed to have grown a head taller, she held herself so erect. But +when Mr. Schmielke, who now hoped to win the prize, bent his knee and said +jokingly, "<i>Padam da nog!</i>" and then, stroking his moustache in his usual +challenging way, added, "Allow me to see you home," she stared at him for a +moment. And when he smiled at her with all the impertinence which the wine and +the advanced hour, the spectators' goading looks, and the conviction of his own +irresistibility had given him, she administered such a violent, resounding box +on his ears that he and all the others started back.</p> + +<p class="normal">She rushed out of the cloak-room and across the passage to the +front door, and, standing on the pavement which the downtrodden straw had made +still dirtier, she shouted for her carriage. She was weeping.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wind had veered round in the early morning, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 104]</span> +and was blowing from the west, as she stood in the deserted market-place. Large +flakes of watery snow were being driven along before the wind, and clung to her +cheeks and mingled with the hot drops from her eyes. Oh, how she would have +liked to lie down there in the dirt and die! That beautiful ball! Alas, there +would never be any more pleasure for her where her husband was. How he had made +a laughing-stock of her before them all. And he had lied into the bargain.</p> + +<p class="normal">The carriage had not come yet; she stood trembling with cold +and grief. She clenched her hands; she would do it quite, quite alone now, if +she couldn't find anybody to help her.</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once she had a feeling that somebody was standing +behind her; that somebody was breathing on her cheek. It was the schoolmaster.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had quietly followed her. He was no less excited than she. +She had been insulted by Mr. Tiralla, but Mr. Tiralla had also insulted him; he +had insulted them both.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster looked upon the harmless man as a criminal. +"He doesn't deserve the sun to shine on him," he whispered, in a voice that was +hoarse with excitement. Then he snatched hold of the hand which she held out to +him, and pressed it to his lips, to his eyes, and stammered wildly, "Pani, let +me die on the spot--God punish me if ever I forget Mr. Tiralla's behaviour. +I--I----" he suppressed something he was going to say. Then he once more pressed +her willing hand to his burning lips and stood near her in silence, until they +heard Mr. Tiralla's voice at the hotel door at the same moment as the carriage +rattled out of the yard and round the corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">She got in without help; the schoolmaster had disappeared, +swallowed up by the darkness. Mr. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 105]</span> +Tiralla was hoisted up on the front seat with great difficulty by the boots. He +was a heavy weight and the man's shoulders and arms ached, but he was pleased to +help the gentleman. That good Mr. Tiralla--Heaven bless him--had given him a new +two-shilling bit as a tip.</p> + +<p class="normal">Not a word was spoken by the couple. Mrs. Tiralla sat +motionless at the back with her cloak wrapped tightly round her, for she was icy +cold. She had drawn her shawl far down over her forehead, but her burning eyes +wandered in mute despair over the desolate, slushy fields in the early morning +twilight. Oh, how uncomfortable she felt, how tired out. She couldn't understand +now why she had wanted to go to the ball instead of lying in her warm bed and +being lulled to sleep by Rosa's soft-toned prayers, and thus forgetting her +miserable existence in the arms of the saints.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was seized with an unutterable aversion for her present +life. There, alas!--and her big eyes grew bigger and bigger and more +desperate-looking--there was the first of the big pines on the Przykop, looking +just like a flagstaff with a waving pennon on it, and near it, although not yet +visible, lay Starydwór, the old, lonely farm where she had to go on living year +after year with Mr. Tiralla. How much longer?</p> + +<p class="normal">A ditch ran along the side of the road, a broad, deep ditch. +The carriage jolted as they rumbled along. How would it be if they were to fall +into the ditch with carriage and horses, and break their necks? Ha, wouldn't +that be a good thing? She stood up in the carriage--how stiff she was after +sitting so long--and, resting her left hand on the side-rail, carefully bent +over her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was asleep. His head had fallen on his breast, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 106]</span> +his snores mingled with the rattle of the wheels. He was sleeping as deeply and +soundly in the wet and cold and discomfort as though he were at home in his bed. +The reins hung loosely between the enormous fingers of his fur gloves. All she +had to do was to take them away from him, he wouldn't notice it. She did so. He +was sleeping so soundly that he had no idea of what was going on behind him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was standing on the seat now, erect and with flashing +eyes, holding the reins with both hands. Now a tug, a turn to the left--she +could not reach the whip, but a "<i>Huj</i>, <i>het!</i>" was enough--then a +sudden jerk with all her strength, and the terrified horses jumped to the left. +One wheel was already hanging over the side of the ditch--farewell, Mr. +Tiralla!--a grimace partly of horror at what she had done, partly of triumphant +delight, distorted the woman's face--crash--they lay at the bottom.</p> + +<p class="normal">But not the horses and not the carriage, only Mr. Tiralla and +his wife. The clever animals had stopped short as though they recognized the +danger, and were now standing quite close to the edge, their bits covered with +foam.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" Mr. Tiralla scrambled out of the ditch, +all of a sudden quite sober. The soft snow had felt like a downy feather bed, +and he hadn't hurt himself in the slightest. What a joke! How often he had been +upset in that ditch. H'm, if the horses hadn't been so sensible. He patted their +necks and praised them. And then he called to his wife, "Heigh, Sophia, where +have you got to?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer. She had not hurt herself either; she lay +on her back in the ditch, snow under her, snow on both sides of her, and above +her the early morning sky, clear and rosy. She closed her eyes +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 107]</span> +again; let him call her, she would remain where she was for ever.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she suddenly remembered that her beautiful ball-dress +from that good dressmaker in Posen might be spoiled. Her fur cloak could not +keep the snow-water out very long; she already felt it penetrating into her +shoes. Ugh, how wet and horrid it was! She would never be able to put the dress +on again. She jumped up hastily, and called to her husband to help her. And when +she had safely got out of the ditch, she shook her skirts and examined her +dress, and was delighted to find that nothing had been spoiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">They got into the carriage again. But now Mr. Tiralla kept his +eyes open, although he felt fit to drop with fatigue. What would Sophia say if +he were to upset her once more? "I'm sorry, my dear," he murmured, in a +crestfallen voice. She said nothing.</p> + +<p class="normal">As they reached the gate, they found it wide open just as they +had left it. The front door was not locked either, the latch was, of course, +down, but the door had not been bolted.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jendrek, Marianna," shouted Mr. Tiralla, at the top of his +voice. Was nobody coming to take the horses? Where were those rascals sleeping? +And the other men, the day labourers, hadn't come yet. The farmer scolded and +groaned when he found that he would have to unharness the horses himself and +take them to the stable.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla went into the room and called the maid. But +Marianna, who always came running so submissively when her mistress called her, +did not appear either. The woman grew so angry, that she almost tore the +ball-dress off her back, and then let it lie on the floor. Disgraceful, +disloyal, shameless +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 108]</span> +hussy! Where could she be sleeping so sweetly that she neither heard nor saw +anything?</p> + +<p class="normal">When Mr. Tiralla came into the room his wife snubbed him as +angrily as if he had been Marianna.</p> + +<p class="normal">He tried to appease her. "That'll do, that'll do, my love. We +know all about it." He laughed good-naturedly. "They're young, we must excuse +them."</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, so he condoned such things? Perhaps even considered them +right? Well, then! There was a strange expression in Mrs. Tiralla's eyes as she +stared straight in front of her. She let her husband press a kiss on her neck +without feeling it, and then she ran in her petticoat and without anything over +her shoulders through the cold house up to her bedroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">There lay Rosa with the feather bed drawn up to her eyes. The +woman fell on her knees beside the child's bed, and, burying her head in the +bedclothes, she sobbed aloud.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa awoke. "Mother, sweet mother?" There was a note of +anxious inquiry in her exclamation; was her mother in a good humour again, was +she no longer cross as the evening before?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you love me?" stammered the sobbing woman. "Tell me that +you love me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I do love you, I love you so dearly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tell me that you'll pray for me. Swear that you'll pray for +me--always."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I'll pray for you. I always pray for you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray for me, pray for me," sobbed the excited woman. "I'll +pray with you, perhaps that'll help me. Rosa, my angel"--she covered the child's +face with kisses--"we'll pray."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What shall we pray?" asked the child. "What do you want to +pray now, mother dear? Shall I pray +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 109]</span> +to the beautiful guardian angel, 'Holy angel, thou who standest before the +throne of God,' or shall I repeat the litany to the sweet name of Jesus? Or +shall I pray as I did at my confirmation, 'Come, thou Heavenly Physician, I need +Thee. Heal my soul, oh Saviour. Come, save me'? Oh, you left me alone," cried +the child, in a plaintive voice, as she broke off in the midst of her prayer. +"You were at the ball, you were so beautiful, mother. Daddy was with you. +Marianna went away as well. She said it would only be for half an hour; she +wanted to see her little ones, who are living with an old woman in the village; +but she stopped away. I was all by myself in the house. And something creaked in +the big cupboard, and in the stove, and in all the furniture. And something +moved in all the corners. Ugh, the room was so lonely, I ran out of it. And the +candles--those two before the looking-glass--flickered so. Marianna says that if +you look into a glass before which two candles are burning, as the clock strikes +twelve, either Death or your future husband will be standing behind you. Oh, and +I daren't cross the passage, it was so dark. Just think if anybody had been +lurking there? I screamed aloud, but nobody answered--ugh, the passage was so +icy cold--so I rushed into the kitchen; there was still a little fire there, and +I crept behind the stove. Oh, mother, I was so frightened, I couldn't stop there +either. I trembled so, my heart went like that the whole time"--she took hold of +her mother's hand and moved it quickly up and down--"the whole time like that. +Just think if that fiery man, that Marianna is always telling me about, had got +out of the stove? I believe that fiery man is the devil; I've asked Marianna, +but she didn't know. Do you think, mammie, that it's the devil?"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 110]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She sat up in bed. She was still completely dressed. "Is it +the devil?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla nodded.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you also believe that it's the devil?" Rosa's voice +expressed a certain satisfaction, a kind of childish pride; oh, yes, she knew +all about such things. "I know him." she said triumphantly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What does he look like?" whispered her mother, with a +shudder, as she hid her face in her hands. Oh, if that should have been he, that +handsome young man who had suddenly appeared before her a short time before, as +she stood half-dressed in the room downstairs and Mr. Tiralla was making excuses +for the amorous maid?</p> + +<p class="normal">"I saw him on the altar in the chapel," whispered Rosa. "Holy +Michael was treading him underfoot. He's like a worm, but he has a face and +horns on his head. Father Szypulski says he comes to tempt us. Pray, pray! He +pokes the fire in Purgatory, in which the souls are burning. 'Pray for the peace +of the poor souls in Purgatory,' says the priest, 'and for your own as well.' I +commend all the souls in Purgatory to thee, oh, most holy Mother Mary." Rosa's +whispers became more and more agitated and her wild, restless eyes began to +wander about the room. "He's red, mother, red with black horns. He dances in the +flames wherever there's a fire; he sends out sparks, mother--he's fetching us +all! Mother! Oh, he's burning us all!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The child uttered a heartrending sigh, and pressing both hands +to her breast reared herself up in bed. Throwing back her disordered hair, she +shrieked in a loud voice, "Oh, it hurts me, it hurts me so here--it hurts, +hurts, hurts!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"It hurts, hurts, hurts!" shrieked her mother. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 111]</span> +She did not know that she was repeating the same words.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa tore her dress open, her breast heaved and sank as she +gasped for breath in her terror. Then she clung to her mother, and hiding her +face in her neck she whimpered, "Carry me out of the kitchen again, carry me up +the dark stairs, oh, Holy Mother, that I needn't fear. Put me down, keep me +warm--hail, Mary, thou that art highly favoured"--(the child's voice had grown +soft and low)--"how beautiful thou art--I love thee--hail, Mary, blessed art +thou among women--blessed--the fruit--of thy womb----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her words grew more and more indistinct, until they at last +became nothing but an incoherent murmur.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, now Rosa saw the Holy Virgin. Seized with a superstitious +terror, Mrs. Tiralla loosened the child's arms from about her neck. What did +Rosa see? What did she hear? Did she really see something? If only Rosa could +find out something which could be of use to her--her!</p> + +<p class="normal">The child had fallen back on her bed heavy and stiff. Spurred +on by an intense eagerness her mother leant over her and whispered:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ask the Holy Virgin--tell the Holy Virgin that I'll let ten +candles burn before her on the altar--ten wax candles--she's to release +me--Glisten, all she's to do is to release me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa was silent. She did not hear. Although her eyes were wide +open, she did not seem to see her mother's terrified, excited mien, nor her +burning, piercing looks, so full of entreaty.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Listen!" Mrs. Tiralla's voice sounded almost fierce as she +shouted to the child. "Listen, listen!" she repeated several times, in an +impressive voice. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 112]</span> +"Tell the Holy Virgin she's to release me--I want to be released--I must be +released--listen, listen!"</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once a convulsive movement passed over Rosa's face. Her +mother bent over her, lower and lower, full of trembling eagerness. The child's +staring eyes began to move, and her mouth as well.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You'll be released," she stammered, as though in her sleep. +"The dear Virgin hears all prayers--she is smiling--ah, how she's smiling."</p> + +<p class="normal">Bearing herself up once more, and stretching out her arms, the +over-excited child burst into tears.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her mother wiped the tears and beads of perspiration away from +her face with her trembling hands. Oh, her little dress was quite wet through, +and her bodice and chemise as well. She undressed the child and made her bed +more comfortable. Poor little thing! Her mother felt very sorry for her, +although she was full of joy and of an insuppressible exultation. She was to be +released! The Holy Virgin had spoken. She was to be released from him, from Mr. +Tiralla!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 113]</span> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Rosa was singing as she crossed the fields. She felt so well, +so light-hearted. At last she had been to confession. The snow had melted, +Eastertide was drawing near, now she could sing.</p> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="continue">"Mary Magdalene weeping </p> +<p class="normal">Went to Jesu's tomb. </p> +<p class="continue">Her dear Lord, her sorrow knowing.</p> +<p class="normal">Came to light her gloom. </p> +<p class="continue">She saw His glorious countenance."</p> +</div><br> +<p class="normal">Her clear voice sounded jubilant as it rose into the blue sky. +It was spring, spring. The fresh grass was sprouting near the broad ditch, the +corn that had been kept warm under the snow was now green and thick. Christ was +risen and therefore the earth rejoiced.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa took out of her pocket the paper on which she, during the +winter, had noted down all she had to confess. She had examined her conscience +most carefully; it was a long, long piece of paper, with many sins written on +it. But she had got rid of them all now, and that was why she felt so happy. Now +she could tear it to pieces.</p> + +<p class="normal">She stood still, and tearing the paper into shreds threw them +high into the air. Off they flew. How the wind carried them away, higher and +higher, as high as the lark which was hovering up there. They were flying to +God.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 114]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa mingled her song with the lark's trills, in joyous, jerky +rhythm.</p> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="normal">"The stone was rolled away <br> +As to the grave they came. </p> +<p class="continue">At its right side in raiment bright <br> +An angel sat and calmed their fright. Hallelujah."</p> +</div><br> + +<p class="normal">It was no longer the same shrill, piping child's voice; it was +a girl's voice now, full and pleasing. When there was any singing going on in +the school, the master always told Rosa Tiralla to stand up first so as to lead +the others. She liked doing that. Mr. Böhnke was altogether very good to her, +and it would grieve her to leave school. She would soon be fourteen, and then +she wouldn't do any more lessons; then--a strange, dreamy look came into her +eyes--oh, no, she wasn't going to marry like other girls and have children--no. +Her face, that had all at once clouded over, grew bright again; she was to be +the Bride of the Church, her mother had said so. Mr. Böhnke said so as well, and +the priest said so. And they praised her for it. And Marianna stared at her, +"Oh, a nun! That's something very beautiful, something very grand, oh!" And +Jendrek almost looked upon her as a saint already. Everybody looked at her in +quite a different way now from what they used to do when she was nothing but +little Rosa Tiralla. Only her daddy wouldn't hear of it--poor daddy. What a pity +it was that he was so wicked. A look full of deep thought cast a sudden gloom +over the young face that had just been so bright. Was her mother right? Would it +have been better for him never to have been born?</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa used to cry bitterly when the thought came to her that +her father might perhaps never go to heaven. Her dear father. He really was +good; +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 115]</span> +how could it be that her mother and Mr. Böhnke always said he was not?</p> + +<p class="normal">Doubts had lately crept into Rosa's heart, her belief in her +father had been shaken. Had her mother or the schoolmaster brought this about, +or had she become alive to many things that did not please her? Why did her +father always pinch Marianna's cheek, or even her leg when she was standing on +the ladder? That wasn't nice of him. And he used to swear, and it's wicked to +swear. Oh, how she would beg her dear father to leave off swearing--her dear +father--yes, yes, he was still her dear father.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Rosa now saw him come tramping across the field to meet +her, she ran up to him and threw herself into his arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had been looking out for his little daughter for a long +time, and welcomed her with a loud laugh that could be heard far across the +fields.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, my darling, have you confessed all your sins? <i>Psia +krew</i>, if a man had as few sins to confess as you, he wouldn't need to go to +confession."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've fourteen rosaries to say over," said Rosa, looking very +important. Then she added gravely, "Seven for myself and seven for you, father."</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave a boisterous laugh. Then he kissed her. "You're my +consolation, the key which is to open heaven's door for me. I've always said, +pray, pray, my angel. If you're praying, the devil will bang the door and leave +me outside."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa shuddered. What horrid things her daddy always said. How +could he joke about such matters?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, daddy," she said, in a low, insinuating voice, thrusting +her narrow little hand into his big one, "I'm always praying that you may go to +heaven."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 116]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Really?" He was touched. "That's very nice of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mother also prays that you may go to heaven, father."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was also very touched to hear that. Oh, yes, she +was a splendid little woman was his Sophia, and loved him even if she didn't +always show it, especially lately. Ugh, how cold and forbidding she was +sometimes; she made you freeze. But she was a pious woman. Then knitting his +brows together, as though something were tormenting him, he said to the child, +"When you are married, my dear Rosa, always try to please your husband; he'll +like that." He gave a little sigh, but then he laughed. "When Mikolai comes back +from the army and marries, I'll rub it into him, too, 'Take a complaisant wife.' +Ha, ha, his mother, my late wife, Hanusia, was complaisant enough, that's +certain--ha, ha."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Will Mikolai soon be coming back from the army?" inquired +Rosa. She had been such a stupid little thing when he had gone away three years +before. But now she was wiser, and she realized how nice it was to have a little +brother. The only time he had come home on furlough during all those years she +had been very ill with scarlet fever, and he hadn't been allowed to come to her +on account of the infection. She was, therefore, doubly glad to see him now. How +she would love him. "Will my little brother soon be coming back?" she repeated +anxiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"H'm, a nice little brother!" laughed her father. "Do you +really think they could do with a 'little brother' in the horse guards? He's a +big brother, I can tell you, an enormous fellow. He was as tall as I when I went +to see him last autumn. And what fists he has got. He won't want a team of oxen +to pull +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 117]</span> +the cart, he'll do it himself. But he'll be good to his little sister. Who +wouldn't be good to you, my wee one?" He took hold of her little face with his +big hand and stroked it tenderly and carefully.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa smiled. "I'll love him," she cried enthusiastically, "and +he'll love me. We're all to love each other, Jesus bids us do so."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, that's what I think, too," said her father, "we're all +to love each other." He suddenly thought of his wife, from whom he had neither +received kiss nor friendly look that day. So instead of inspecting his corn, as +he had intended doing, he returned home with his daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">They walked hand in hand. Their figures--his thick-set, a +massive tree-trunk, hers a delicate leaf blown about by the wind--could be seen +afar off in the flat, treeless field.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was in the sitting-room with Böhnke, and saw them +in the distance through the gateway. "There he is again," she said, with a look +of disgust on her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">Already? The schoolmaster sighed. He had been so delighted to +find the woman he adored alone at home--he had seen little Rosa on her way to +the village--and now they were so soon to be disturbed. What did that horrid +fellow mean by always coming back? Böhnke quite forgot that this house to which +he came regularly every Sunday and very often besides, belonged to Mr. Tiralla, +and that the latter invariably received him with a loud welcome and ordered the +best they had to be served up in his honour. But the farmer's presence always +inconvenienced him, and especially to-day. Mrs. Tiralla had been about to pour +out her heart to him, and the thought of the moment when at last he would be +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 118]</span> +able to console the sad-looking woman made him tremble.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm in trouble," she had said, when he had asked her if she +had a headache. There were dark, heavy shadows under her eyes, and her pale +mouth drooped so sadly that he had thought she was ill.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, how I'm suffering," she had cried, in a sudden outburst +of grief and fury, and had run up and down the room with both hands flung high +above her head. She had come to a standstill close in front of him, and her +black eyes had blazed. "What would you say if I ran away from him? Away, +anywhere, over the fields, only away."</p> + +<p class="normal">The passion with which she had uttered those words had +terrified him. Away, away over the fields, but where would she go?</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's for you to tell me." Then she had given a loud, +scornful laugh; in spite of all his cleverness he did not know where she was to +go either. There really was nobody, nobody who could advise her. What would he +say if she went into the Przykop into the deep morass, where the pool under the +drooping birches was just now as deep as any lake on account of the rainy +spring? If she went into it up to her mouth, or even a little further, and never +more appeared, what would he say then? Would he shed a tear in memory of her, a +little forget-me-not in his book of memories?</p> + +<p class="normal">"God forbid!" he had exclaimed, seizing hold of her hand in +sudden fear. How could she say such things, even have such thoughts? She was so +good, so beautiful, there was still much happiness in store for her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Never, so long as Mr. Tiralla is alive!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But he won't go on living for ever."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 119]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then she had flashed a glance at him, a swift and strangely +scrutinizing glance. It was as though she had wanted to confide something to +him, but dared not. Had he said that without thinking, or did he really mean it?</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had shrunk back into herself again in a sudden +fit of shyness. But she could not bear to keep silent, she simply longed to +speak to somebody about it all. If only she could--dared--say to him, "In a +secret chamber of the loft there stands an old chest, and in that old chest I've +hidden something." But then if he should say, "Poison!" and should shudder with +horror when he said it? She eyed him narrowly through her lowered lids, whilst +her long lashes slowly fanned her pale cheeks like a pair of weary wings.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the young man saw nothing but her beauty, his eyes were +fixed on the mental vision of the charms which her enamoured husband had +described to him. How he pitied this beautiful woman. What a misfortune to be +chained to such a man. She wanted to run away, to take her own life? Oh, how +dreadful for such a beautiful creature to be sick of life. That overbearing +fellow, that scoundrel! <i>Psia krew</i>, why couldn't he die? Then she would be +free.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had not meant anything when he had said before, "But he +won't go on living for ever." It had merely been a phrase, used in order to +console the poor woman. But now those words seemed to express something +desirable, something really necessary. Was there any reason why the man should +go on living for ever? An all-wise Providence had no doubt seen what was +happening and would probably remove this fellow, who would leave no vacant place +behind him, and would be mourned for by no one. How easily he could be carried +off by illness, brought on by a cold +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 120]</span> +in the spring, or by excessive eating. No, Mr. Tiralla could not go on living +for ever. Besides, he was much older than she. Only have patience, he would not +go on living for ever. He must not, no, by all the saints--and this certainty +impressed itself firmly on the schoolmaster's mind--Mr. Tiralla <i>should</i> +not go on living for ever!</p> + +<p class="normal">The man drew a deep, trembling breath of relief, after which +he felt easier. Then he raised his eyes, which had been lowered in profound +thought, and met those of the woman. They looked long and searchingly at each +other.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There he is again," sighed Mrs. Tiralla, who was standing +near the window.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke noticed the disgust depicted on her face, that +beautiful face, whose mouth was polluted every day by the word "beast." Had he +not seen for himself how that monster had annoyed her with his kisses? The young +man grew cold, then hot, whilst the flames of jealousy rushed to his head. +Nobody, nobody should kiss her mouth, if he might not kiss it, too--no, only he, +quite alone. He stretched out his hand gropingly and seized hers. The woman was +weeping, and she allowed him to do so. Then he jerked out hurriedly--there was +no time to lose, Mr. Tiralla could come in any moment--jerked out in a +breathless voice and without reflection, but still as though he were swearing it +solemnly:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't cry. By God, Mr. Tiralla shall not go on living for +ever!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mammie," cried Röschen joyously, as she came into the room, +and letting her father's hand go she ran up to her mother. "I'm to give you +Father Szypulski's kind regards. Oh, it was so beautiful! I'm so happy! I could +sing the whole time, I----" Then, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 121]</span> +catching sight of the schoolmaster, she curtseyed and held out her hand to him, +blushing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke bent over her more than was necessary, for she reached +up to his shoulders, but he wished to hide his gleaming eyes and his cheeks that +were burning with excitement. He could not have looked Mr. Tiralla in the face +at that moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the woman was perfectly calm. She had fully understood +what it was the schoolmaster had said to her, and a feeling of profound relief +filled her heart with joy. Ah, now the Holy Virgin was at last going to keep the +promise she had given her through Rosa. She had sent her somebody who was on her +side, and who would advise her and help her--for had he not clearly said, "I'll +look after that"?--and who belonged to her alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt so happy and cheerful now, so different. She kissed +Rosa and even held out her cheek of her own accord when her husband, with a +smirk on his face, reproached her for not having given him a single kiss that +day. But all the time she kept her eyes fixed on the schoolmaster, who was +standing at the window biting his lip.</p> + +<p class="normal">How could she be so calm, so bright, yes, really so bright? +Böhnke couldn't understand it. He felt far from happy. He felt as though he had +done a very stupid thing, as though he had allowed himself to be carried away by +his emotions. He was seized with a sudden feeling of anger and indignation +against Mrs. Tiralla; why had she complained to him, what had that disgusting +tale of her marriage to do with him?</p> + +<p class="normal">But then when she gazed at him with her beautiful, sparkling +eyes in that familiar, friendly way, and smiled at him with the same sweet smile +that little Rosa had inherited from her, then his anger melted +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 122]</span> +as well as all his scruples. She had never seemed more lovely. Her white +ball-dress had suited her well, but this short, plain, woollen skirt, which +showed her neat feet and shiny leather slippers, the white apron, the check +blouse and small white collar suited her a hundred times better. Oh, how +beautiful, how beautiful she looked! His head was in a whirl.</p> + +<p class="normal">The farmer invited him to have supper with them, and he gladly +accepted. He even accepted an invitation for Easter.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was basking in the light of his Sophia's smiles, +and felt so happy that he would have liked to invite the whole world. He sat at +the table and laughed as he satisfied his enormous appetite. It was still Lent, +and the meal was frugal, "but at Easter, my little Böhnke," he cried, filling +his mouth with fried potatoes, "at Easter you shall have a feast!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster exchanged a glance. What +impertinence to say, "my little Böhnke!" But he was always so rough and vulgar.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa sat near her father. She did not want anything to eat; +she never ate much, and to-day her happiness had quite taken away her appetite. +It had been such a beautiful, beautiful day. Was it because she had prayed so +very fervently at the altar that her daddy was now so good? He didn't swear at +all, he didn't even look at Marianna, although her short, white sleeves were +fresh from the wash. They reached as far as her bare elbows, and she had a black +bodice on and all her coloured beads round her neck. Now her mother would be +kinder to her daddy. Oh, if only it could always be like this. How much nicer it +was when her mother didn't cry or look angry. To-day was just like Easter, when +the grave opened and Christ rose, hallelujah.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 123]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Her quiet happiness had brought a flush to her pale cheeks. +She did not say much; Rosa was only eloquent in her prayers and when she spoke +of what transformed her narrow, dark chamber into a Garden of Eden, and of what +took place between heaven and earth. But she pressed her father's hand +repeatedly, and when her mother happened to touch her in passing anything over +the table, the child would furtively raise her sleeve to her lips and kiss it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rosa looks better than she did last winter," remarked the +schoolmaster, in order to say something. It was really quite immaterial to him +if the anćmic child looked paler or not, but his own silence terrified him. +Surely the old man must notice something?</p> + +<p class="normal">"She is certainly much better," answered Mrs. Tiralla hastily. +"She only complained of being ill for a short time. Our winters are so raw. But +now she's always well and happy, aren't you, darling? How could she be anything +but happy, she, the Holy Virgin's favourite? Tell Mr. Böhnke what she has +revealed to you in your dreams, darling," and she nodded encouragingly to the +child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've not dreamt it." Rosa grew almost angry, and she flushed +up to her hair-roots. "You're not to say that I dreamt it, mother. It was really +true; I was just as wide awake as you are, and father, and Mr. Böhnke. If you +dream you surely don't see the cupboard and the clothes rack and the washstand +and the wall, and you don't hear the clock ticking and father snoring downstairs +and the wind howling in the pines outside. It was all there as usual, and I was +lying in my bed as usual. But the room was full of a bright light. That was +because the Holy Virgin was there. She was standing in the middle of the room. +She had her crown on her head, and she wore a blue +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 124]</span> +mantle, which was wide and had lots of folds, oat of which little angels were +peeping."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa made a pause, as though she wished to note the effect of +this wonderful communication on her hearers.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla did not say a word. He was sitting with his head +buried in his hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear, dear!" exclaimed the schoolmaster, in order to show +that he was attending. What on earth was the child talking about? He had not +been listening very carefully.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the woman nodded again to her daughter, who continued with +sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rosa,' said the dear Virgin. 'Rosa Tiralla, be not afraid.' +'I'm not afraid,' I said. Then she went on, 'I've chosen you. You are to remain +a virgin and to go to the Grey Sisters or to the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, and +there you are to pray for the conversion of sinners, for the strengthening of +the faith----'" Here Rosa broke off. "I told all this to Father Szypulski +to-day, and he explained to me what she really meant by it. I'm to pray for the +conversion of the heterodox (those who don't believe the same as we do) and for +the strengthening and propagation of our faith, which is the only faith which +can save. And I'm to pray for my dear parents, and especially for my dear +father, that his soul and his hands may again become clean, so that he can leave +Purgatory and go to the dear angels above. Oh, father, dear father," she cried, +in a terrified voice, putting her curly head down on his shoulder as he sat next +to her, "how awful it would be if you were to be lost for ever!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" So far Mr. Tiralla had not said a word, +but now he started up from his seat and banged the table with his fist. "Stop +that twaddle!" He +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 125]</span> +raised his hand as though he were going to box the child's ears. She shrank back +and grew deadly pale.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But, Mr. Tiralla!" exclaimed the schoolmaster, seizing hold +of his arm, "it's wonderful, perfectly wonderful!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla made the sign of the cross as she cried, "Holy +Mother! What a sin he's committing! May God not lay it to our charge."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hold your tongue," shouted her husband furiously. "You're +making the girl quite crazy. And I'll not have her made crazy. Holy Virgin--Grey +Sisters--Ladies of the Sacred Heart--all twaddle. She's to sleep when she goes +to bed and not invent such nonsense. After to-day her bed is to be brought down +into my room. Then I'll see if the Holy Virgin will come to her again. I feel +certain she won't."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That wouldn't be at all suitable," said Mrs. Tiralla in an +icy tone. "Rosa is already a big girl."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Tut, tut! Whether it's suitable or not, it'll be better for +her to see what a man is like than to have her head turned with such unnatural +stuff." He cast a suspicious glance at his wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla grew frightened. If there were any talk about +Rosa she knew that her husband was quite a different man; then he was no longer +a fool, or a bear that growled a little and then let her lead him. So she wisely +said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very well, as you like. Let Rosa sleep down here with you. +But I tell you, you'll not be able to scare away what is coming to her. Nobody +can scare away what is coming," she added impressively, and gazed at him with +such a strange look in her black eyes that the superstitious man shuddered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Rosa is one of the chosen ones," she continued. "She sees +what you'll never see, and hears what you'll +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 126]</span> +never hear. Very well, let her come down to you. Take firm hold of her hands and +of her feet, too, she'll still leave you." The woman grew more and more excited +the longer she spoke, and she gazed at her husband with eyes full of rebuke. +"It'll be bad for you that you resist in this way. The saints will bear it in +mind, and will not forgive you, and when you cry out for them to deliver you +from Purgatory, they will not deliver you. You're a wicked man, a scoffer and a +blasphemer! Alas, alas, what will become of you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do you really think so, really?" Mr. Tiralla felt somewhat +disconcerted, her great earnestness bewildered him, and he moved restlessly +backwards and forwards on his chair. If she were right? No, it was nothing but +romantic nonsense. He was still in possession of his senses, and he would never, +no never, allow any one to persuade his little girl, his dear Röschen, who was +to bring him so much happiness in this life--healthy grandchildren and all kinds +of good things--to go into a convent. Yes, persuade her, that was the word. +Sophia had always been too pious, he was sorry to say, and the priest, and the +schoolmaster? "To the devil with you all!" he shouted, gaining courage at the +sound of his own voice. "May he be struck with lightning who dares contradict +me, when I say she's to be married as soon as possible. Nobody can be too young +for that. And I'll procure her a nice husband. Then she'll grow happy and buxom, +and when she gets a little boy on her lap--such a wee fellow who kicks about and +wants nursing--then she'll not get any more of those stupid fancies. The Holy +Virgin, the Holy Virgin! we pray to our Lady. But when Rosa is a mother herself, +she'll have other things to think of." He laughed, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 127]</span> +his anger had almost disappeared again at the beautiful prospect which lay +before him.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Mrs. Tiralla gave a shrill scream. "There, you +see--there, you see what you've done."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa had given a deep, plaintive sigh, her head had drooped +forward like a withered flower, and she would have fallen from her chair if the +schoolmaster had not caught her in his arms. She had fainted.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was frightened to death. Alas, alas, what had he +done? He would have liked to beat himself, to pull off his head. He struck his +forehead with his clenched hand and called himself the most unflattering names +he could think of, "fool, blockhead, idiot." He shouted for Marianna, roared for +water, ordered Tokay--no, gin--wanted to pour it down the girl's throat, spilt +it all over her, then called himself once more all kinds of names and almost +wept.</p> + +<p class="normal">They had pushed him away from his daughter. The schoolmaster +still held her in his arms, whilst Marianna rubbed her cold feet and Mrs. +Tiralla her temples, and breathed on her with the warm, vivifying breath from +her powerful lungs. She did not feel so terrified, she knew what it was. Rosa +used to faint very easily, it was on account of her age, the doctor had said, +and there was nothing to be anxious about. But she pretended to be alarmed, for +he deserved it. What if the child never recovered consciousness, never opened +her eyes again? Alas, the Holy Virgin had sent it as a punishment.</p> + +<p class="normal">The terrified man groaned aloud. Oh, God, he hadn't wanted to +do that, not that! She should continue to sleep upstairs, he wouldn't say a word +more about it, he would hide his own wishes deep down in his breast. Never again +would he pollute her ears with such things, although he really couldn't +understand +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 128]</span> +in what way he had wounded her innocence to such a degree that she had fainted. +Oh, he was a fool, he didn't understand any more what was going on in his own +house. He remained sitting some time in silence, with his head buried in his +hands. And then when the child began to stir and he heard her sigh and say in a +feeble voice, "Ah, mammie," he got up hastily, took down his hat and coat from +the rack and staggered out of the house.</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained standing for a long time in the middle of the yard +with his eyes fixed on the house. Wouldn't Rosa ask for him? Wouldn't she beg +him to come to her?</p> + +<p class="normal">But as nobody called him, and the light downstairs began to +move about, then disappeared and finally shone in the little room upstairs--they +were taking Rosa up to bed--he walked out of his gate with bent head.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"He has really gone out," whispered Mrs. Tiralla, when she +came back to the sitting-room. She had sat a long time with Mr. Böhnke at the +child's bedside. Rosa had been very excited. When she had recovered from her +faint she had wept bitterly and had wanted to see her father. He had gone out, +they told her, his conscience had left him no peace. After that the child had +wept for a long time. Then she had been so worn out that she had dozed a little, +but it had been no peaceful slumber, although her mother had held one of her +hands and the schoolmaster the other. She had given several loud, terrified +shrieks, her brows had contracted with pain. And then she had begun to talk in +her sleep, a confused medley of words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I suppose she's delirious?" said the schoolmaster. But the +woman had whispered to him that Rosa was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 129]</span> +having her visions again, and that if he would listen quietly, he would soon +make sense out of what she was saying.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla knelt down by the bedside, and resting her head +on her hands which she had folded round those of the child, she began to pray in +a soft voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">All the man could see in the twilight had been that bent head, +the silky smoothness of which seemed even silkier than usual in the dim light +from the shaded lamp. He was seized with a mad desire to press his lips to that +bowed neck which was so near him, to thrust both his hands in that beautiful, +black hair. He could scarcely bear it any longer, his heart throbbed so +tumultuously that he trembled. What did it matter to him that the servant was +crouching at the end of the bed with her face buried in her knees? And the +delirious child would be no hinderance to him either. Who could prevent him from +stretching out his arms and drawing the kneeling woman to his side and closing +her mouth with his kisses? Mr. Tiralla was not there; it was as though he would +never return. And around them was darkness. And still he dared not do it. This +woman--he groaned--ah, this woman could do anything she liked with him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sh!" Mrs. Tiralla raised her head. "Sh! now, now! Do you +hear?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, my poor father!" sighed Rosa. It sounded as though she +were going to cry; there was something unspeakably touching in her plaintive +voice. "My poor father, what are they doing to you? You can't escape, alas, +alas!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The child's low voice shook with fear, and she threw herself +about on the bed with a convulsive movement.</p> + +<p class="normal">From what couldn't he escape? The schoolmaster +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 130]</span> +knitted his brows, her words made a strange impression on him.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mrs. Tiralla leant over the bed so that the man could feel +her breath on his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "Sh! be quiet!" Now she sees +him being tormented in hell. She often sees him like that. "Röschen, my +darling," she whispered softly, bending over the child, "leave that wicked man +in hell, don't be frightened. Don't you see the Holy Virgin this evening, and +the dear Child Jesus on her lap? Oh, how sweetly she's smiling. Hark, doesn't +she say something? Hail, Mary----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thou Gracious Mother," the child struck in immediately, and +her voice had lost its note of fear, "thou pure Mother, thou spotless Mother, +thou wonderful Mother. Ah, I see her!" cried Rosa triumphantly, and her pale +face flushed a rosy red. "Mother, Marianna, Mr. Böhnke, pray that she may not +turn away from us. Come, come!" She stretched out her hands as though she wanted +to draw the three people around her bed still nearer. "Kneel down," she called +out in a loud voice. "Oh, thou Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the +world, spare us, good Lord----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hear us, good Lord," droned Marianna. She had dragged herself +nearer the bed, and now she hit her breast and bowed every time as she repeated, +"Spare us, good Lord! Hear us, good Lord! Have pity on us, good Lord!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster exchanged a glance.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The spirit has come over her," whispered the woman, and made +the sign of the cross. "She will soon reveal a great deal to us."</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster hastily pulled out his notebook +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 131]</span> +with trembling hands. He felt somewhat embarrassed and whispered uneasily, +"Marvellous, very marvellous!" He would have given much to be away from it all, +but he couldn't go, it was too wonderful. He would have to write it all down so +as to repeat it to the priest. What would he say to having a clairvoyante among +his congregation? Holy Mother, only not that!</p> + +<p class="normal">A sudden terror gripped him. He felt cold and hot by turns, +and his hands trembled as he held the book and pencil. If she really could see +into the future? Pshaw, she was nothing but a sickly, romantic, delirious child. +And still--he could not help shuddering in the semi-darkness of that lonely +little room, near the woman he coveted--and still his excited fancy at once gave +shape to what Rosa's dreamy babbling had stirred up within him. The child was +enraptured with the dear Virgin who smiles at the innocent, but he adorned her +with all the voluptuous charms which she--his eyes glittered as they hung on the +woman he coveted--she possessed.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was midnight before Mrs. Tiralla and the schoolmaster +returned to the sitting-room. The favoured child was sleeping soundly, there +were no more marvellous utterances to listen to. The trance was now over, which +had filled them all with such delight and during which Marianna had buried her +face in her hands and groaned:</p> + +<p class="normal">"How beautiful, how beautiful! I don't understand it; but oh, +how beautiful!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the man was still in a state of great excitement. What +else was there for him to do, now that Mr. Tiralla had really gone away, but +clasp this smiling woman, whose eyes shone like candles, to his breast?</p> + +<p class="normal">He approached her full of fierce desire. Now that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 132]</span> +the so ardently longed-for moment had arrived all the scruples which had +hitherto deterred him had disappeared. Now, now!</p> + +<p class="normal">He went up to her with outstretched arms, but she escaped from +him as she so often had escaped from her husband, and ran behind the table. This +was now between him and her. Her husband had always tried to catch her on these +occasions, and had run after her round the big table like a boy playing at tig, +but the schoolmaster did not do that. He did not move; he had suddenly grown +very pale and his outstretched arms had sunk down. So she didn't want him to? It +was a very keen disappointment.</p> + +<p class="normal">What on earth was the schoolmaster dreaming of? Mrs. Tiralla +almost flew into a passion. But then she noticed how dejected he looked, how his +eyes avoided hers, and a sudden fear befell her. What if he were to be so angry +with her now that he turned away from her, and she were to be as lonely as she +had been before? Oh, only not that, she must have one helping hand. Wasn't he +the helper, the friend whom the Holy Virgin had sent her? She daren't let him go +away like that, she would have to grant him one favour, but only one. And she +came from behind her bulwark; she had no fear, for she felt that she had this +man entirely in her power. She went up to him, put her arms round his neck and +kissed him quickly on the cheek.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go now," she whispered, "go! It's late--midnight--what will +Marianna think? I shouldn't like people to talk about me. Go!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She urged him to be gone and he obeyed her, for he had got a +kiss, a kiss from her. He thirsted for another one, but wasn't this a beginning?</p> + +<p class="normal">When Marianna lighted him to the road, he embraced +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 133]</span> +her with such force that she let the lantern fall, she was so startled.</p> + +<p class="normal">The sober man was quite changed. He stumbled across the fields +as though he were intoxicated, and everything seemed to swim before his eyes. +Starydwór lay behind him, Starydwór lay in front of him, Starydwór lay to the +right, Starydwór lay to the left. Starydwór was everywhere.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster seemed almost as intoxicated as Mr. Tiralla +was, as he crossed the fields on his way home from the village some hours later. +But he did not see Starydwór everywhere, as the other man had done, for it was +quite impossible for him to find his own farm. It was as though it had +disappeared from the globe, or as though he had nothing more to do there.</p> + +<p class="normal">It happened now and then that Mr. Tiralla indulged in too much +drink--now and then on special occasions such as the Sokol's entertainment, or +lately the Gradewitz ball--who wouldn't have done that? But as a rule Mr. +Tiralla was what you might call a sober man. The fact was that he could stand a +great deal. But this evening he had drunk nothing but gin. He had felt so sad, +oh, so sad; he didn't know himself why he had felt so sad. He had known for a +long time that his Sophia was very irritable, so that couldn't have caused it; +he had also known that his Rosa was a very pious child; really too pious, a +remarkably pious child. But to-day there was something else, something that +weighed him down to such a degree, that it had almost broken his heart. He had +to drink in order to get rid of the weight that was oppressing him; drink until +he was intoxicated. And he could only arrive at that state with the help of gin.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The acquaintances he had met at the inn had been very much +surprised at his behaviour. Mr. Tiralla was so quiet; he didn't brag at all +about his Sophia. It was as though he had been put to silence. The priest had +said a few kind words to him about his daughter, when he came to the inn for a +short time after his supper; she was an excellent child, a pure soul with whom +God was well pleased. But Mr. Tiralla had only smiled feebly.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had sat staring into his glass with both elbows on the +table, and his red head buried in his hands, without saying a word. He had sat +like that for hours.</p> + +<p class="normal">One man after the other had said good night, first the priest, +then the gendarme, then the forester, then Mr. Schmielke. Jokisch, as a good +neighbour, had stopped the longest with Mr. Tiralla. He had plucked at his +sleeve when the others had departed and had said in a confidential tone, +"Listen, old fellow, I must tell you that the others are saying that Böhnke, the +schoolmaster, comes too often to see you--I mean to see your wife."</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's been to see her this evening," said Mr. Tiralla, in a +calm voice. And when the other man had stared at him in a disconcerted kind of +way, he had continued in a voice that was still calmer, "You envious scoundrel, +<i>psia krew!</i> Don't you know my Sophia? Do you think it's that what's +oppressing me? Not that, oh God, not that!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And he had given a loud sigh, and burying his head once more +in his hands had said no more. Then Jokisch had said good night. They could very +well have gone home together--their roads only parted at the Boża męka<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_134a" +href="#ftn_134a">[A]</a></sup> just before you come to the Przykop +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 135]</span>--but Mr. Tiralla's company wasn't amusing +enough. By Jove, the old man seemed quite stupid.</p> + +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> +<p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_134a" href="#ftnRef_134a"><sup class="ftnRef"> +A</sup></a> +The wayside image of a saint.</p></div> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had remained sitting all alone. The landlord would +have liked to extinguish the lights and go to bed; his wife, servant, and +children had been asleep for a long time, everybody was asleep except Mr. +Tiralla, who did not seem to think of going to bed. At last the landlord had +fallen asleep behind the bar, and was only awakened by a dull sound. Mr. Tiralla +had thrown the big, empty gin bottle at him, after helping himself to the very +last drop.</p> + +<p class="normal">Was Mr. Tiralla going home alone? How would Mr. Tiralla get +home? The landlord was very anxious about him.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was a night in early spring as Mr. Tiralla staggered home. +A long time would elapse before the lilac-bushes near the dilapidated railings +in the weed-grown herb garden would bloom; there was still no sign of buds on +the trees, the plain was still bare and wintry-looking. But something was +already moving deep down in the earth. The furrows, through which Mr. Tiralla +tramped as he crossed the fields, were thawed, and lumps of soft earth clung to +his boot-soles. He had lost his way; he could not get any further.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" He stumbled, cursed, and scolded, and then +he laughed. He felt that he had drunk too much--oho, he would never be so drunk +that he couldn't feel what he had been up to. But to be a little drunk was a +very useful thing now and then. For then you didn't feel the oppression quite so +much.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 136]</span> + + + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +CHAPTER VII</p> + +<p class="normal">The strawberries were ripening in the Przykop. The children +from Starawieś would go there to look for them, and when they had all been +gathered it would be the time for mushrooms. But the village children did not +like the gloom that reigned in the Przykop, they were accustomed to let the rays +of the burning sun scorch their brown bodies a still darker brown amid the flat +turnip fields and immense plains covered with corn, where there were no shadows +to arrest its full force.</p> + +<p class="normal">The big pines commenced just at the back of Starydwór, and +beyond those were the alders and willows, extending as far as the low-lying +marshes, where the frogs croaked at night, the white water-lilies opened their +golden calices at midday, and where towards evening the game from the royal +forest in the blue distance beat a path through the rustling reeds on their way +to quench their thirst at the pools. A long, long time ago the whole of the +Przykop was said to have been an enormous lake, ten times as big as now. Now +nothing remained of it but the basin in the centre, that deep depression which, +so to speak, formed a hollow amid the yellow and green carpet of this fruitful +corn-land. But at night, when the will-o'-the-wisps wandered about the marshes +and danced on the duckweed, in which a man could be swallowed up if he did not +take care where he put his foot, the pious people +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 137]</span> +would make the sign of the cross when they were obliged to pass that way. For +the will-o'-the-wisps were the souls of those who could not find peace in the +grave.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa Tiralla much preferred the Przykop to the bare fields. If +she stood at the farm gate and looked across the fields she could see the whole +way to Starawieś, the path she took to school every day, the wooden church tower +and the cottage roofs covered with moss, that almost disappeared from view +behind the pale, waving corn when it stood high. But from her bedroom window at +the back of the house, she could look into the Przykop, where the dark trees +rustled so strangely.</p> + +<p class="normal">The white-faced child felt the mystery of the morass just as +much as the brown-skinned children from Starawieś; but while it terrified them, +it attracted her. How beautiful to be in the deep, cool shade when the sun was +scorching outside. There was always a soft twilight under the trees, and when +the light fell through the interlaced branches on the damp, green moss, it was +no longer cruel, it was transfigured.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even as a small child Rosa Tiralla had often been in the +Przykop. Her nurse had always taken her there, for the wind, which swept across +the plain endangering the life of the delicate child, was hardly felt there. The +trees in the hollow were so well protected by the rising ground that only their +tops rustled slightly in the wind. Rosa very often lifted the rusty latch of the +gate that separated the morass from the little garden at the back of Starydwór. +"How lovely the mountains and valleys of the Przykop were," thought the child of +the plain. In her eyes the slight incline down which she used to glide was a +deep, deep valley, and the hill she used to climb so +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 138]</span> +laboriously, holding fast to the luxuriant moss, ferns, and projecting +tree-roots, a big, big mountain.</p> + +<p class="normal">The deer would approach Rosa without fear, and look at her +with their limpid eyes. But she was full of fear; not of the deer, however, but +of the other creatures which surrounded her in the Przykop. The older she grew, +the more fearful she became. Marianna had told her too many tales about them. +The deep, deep silence, in which the woodpecker's hammering on the bark used to +sound like peals of thunder, made her shudder. And still she would not have +liked to give up that sweet emotion, nor give up lying in the thick moss, gazing +up into the tree-tops to find a bit of sky. She was always within call, and that +reassured her. But if a sound found its way to her--her father's deep, bass +voice, or her mother's treble, or the maid's "<i>Psia krew</i>, where have you +got to?"--she would give a start as though she had been roughly handled or had +been caught doing something wrong, and turn scarlet and sigh as she smoothed her +thick, tousled hair.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa Tiralla was very busy looking for mushrooms in the +Przykop this summer. It was the time of the damp, sultry dog-days, in which they +sprang up in a night. But not many were eaten in Starawieś or the neighbourhood, +for the public had been warned against them. The schoolmaster had also warned +the children in the school; they were neither to gather nor eat any they were +not quite sure of. People grew alarmed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Many people have made themselves ill with eating mushrooms," +said Marianna to her mistress, when the latter spoke of sending Rosa to fetch +some.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla laughed. "Nonsense, I know mushrooms very well."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 139]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"That makes no difference," exclaimed the maid, growing warm, +"I won't eat them even if I do know them. Ugh!" she spat on the ground, +"mushrooms are the devil's own vegetables."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why?" The woman looked at the maid with dull, wide-open eyes, +in which a dawning light suddenly began to gleam. She turned red and pale by +turns, blinked her eyes a little as though something were dazzling her, and then +smiled. "What do you mean by 'the devil's own vegetables'? I don't understand +you."</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna made the sign of the cross. "God bless it! But I +don't know if even that always helps. Many a one has got his death from eating a +dish of mushrooms. Who can say which are poisonous and which are not? Good and +bad ones grow side by side; the devil passes his finger over them during the +night, and in the morning they all look alike, you can't see any difference. You +gather, you cook, you eat--oh!" Marianna stretched out her fingers and rolled +her eyes. "Holy Mother. I know how awfully you suffer. I won't eat mushrooms, I +know that." She shuddered.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, you needn't eat any, nobody has asked you to," said the +woman, soothingly, to the girl, who grew more and more vehement. "You hadn't +eaten mushrooms that time you fell ill. Oh, we know all about it," she said +jestingly, shaking her finger at her. But it was no real jest, for all merriment +was wanting, and there was something forced in her laugh as she added, "Jendrek +has let it out; you had drunk too much, and that was why you were ill."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, the rogue, the scoundrel," cried Marianna furiously, +clenching her fist. "How can he say so? The liar! I hadn't drunk too much; I had +drunk nothing, I remember it well. It was the day after the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 140]</span> +master had been to Gnesen to fetch the rat poison. I had drunk nothing that +morning but a sip of coffee, a sip of the coffee I was taking to the master. I +can swear to that."</p> + +<p class="normal">The maid cast an inquisitive, scrutinizing glance at her +mistress. Would she turn red, or pale? Now it was out; what had been the matter +with that coffee? Would she be brazen-faced enough to scold her because she had +drunk some of the master's coffee? Well, then, she would just give her a piece +of her mind, she would let her know that there had been poison in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla, however, took no notice of what had been said.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna kept her eyes fixed on her mistress. Who could say +what the Pani was thinking of now? But no deeper colour came into Mrs. Tiralla's +face. The maid felt quite bewildered. What! the Pani remained so calm, she +neither looked terrified nor changed colour? Why, she was even smiling like an +angel from heaven. She would have to get to the bottom of this. So she quickly +said in a bold, resolute voice:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I had only drunk some of the coffee which the Pani herself +had made; I can't imagine how that could have made me so ill." She shrugged her +shoulders and put on her most stupid and innocent look, whilst her sly eyes +roved about. "The Pani would surely not cook anything bad for the master."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, certainly not," answered Mrs. Tiralla, quite calmly, +although her heart almost stood still with terror. No fear must be shown now, +not an eyelid must quiver. Ah, she had learnt to dissemble more easily now. The +woman was filled with an almost fierce, triumphant joy, which gave a natural +cheerfulness to her voice as she added, "He's such a judge +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 141]</span> +of good living, he'll have nothing but what's good." And then she said in a +friendly tone, as though she had quite forgotten Marianna's pointed words and +the coffee she had taken, "Jendrek must have told a lie, then. Here." She put +her hand into the little bag that hung on her belt near her keys, and brought +out a new shilling. "Here, Marianna. I'm sorry that I've wronged you so long in +my thoughts."</p> + +<p class="normal">The servant forgot to thank her mistress, but stared at her +completely bewildered as she left the kitchen. Oh, she--she was really--she, +she--had she really put nothing into the coffee? Marianna felt she was too +stupid, her head ached with all the thinking; it would be better to leave it +alone. The Pani had given her a new shilling bit, the Pani was good. She was +happy now.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla stood outside the door and called for her +daughter, and when Rosa obediently came she gave her a basket and put on her +broad-brimmed straw hat with her own hands, "There, my darling," and told her to +go and look for mushrooms for her father's supper.</p> + +<p class="normal">Many different kinds of mushrooms were to be found in the +Przykop--yellow, red, brown, orange-coloured, and greenish. When Rosa had gone +out the first time to find some she had felt very anxious. There was a dark +brown one growing under a pine tree, big and firm, with a strong smell and very +appetizing in appearance. But she had eyed it very uncertainly. Was that the +devil's toadstool, which the schoolmaster had marked on the board at school as +poisonous, or was it one of the dainty <i>boleti edules</i>, which her father +liked so much? Oh, dear, she had not listened very attentively; Mr. Böhnke had +given them all the characteristics, but she had been dreaming as usual. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 142]</span> +Her thoughts had flown away into infinite space, away over the board which Mr. +Böhnke was holding before them. He used to be very annoyed with the other +children if they were not attending, but he was never annoyed with her, for she +was Rosa Tiralla. Oh, if only he had been. She did not know what to do. She +hesitated doubtfully; should she take the mushroom or not? There were many of +the same kind growing in the moss; they seemed to smile at her.</p> + +<p class="normal">A wood-pigeon was cooing over the lonely girl's head. It had +fluttered down from the high pine treetop and was now sitting on one of the +thick bottom branches watching her. It cooed and cooed. Then Rosa at last felt +certain that the bird wanted to warn her. It was a messenger from the Holy +Virgin; these mushrooms were all poisonous. And the girl lifted up her dress, so +that not even the hem of it should touch them, and stepped over them with +anxious haste.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Rosa came home the first time without any mushrooms. +"Mother, I didn't know which were poisonous and which were not. I was afraid, so +I left them all." Then Mrs. Tiralla had been more angry with her daughter than +she had ever been before, and had pulled her plaits and called her a stupid +goose. All the mushrooms growing in the Przykop were fit to eat; there was not a +single poisonous one among them.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But Mr. Böhnke says, and Marianna says--oh, mammie, I'm so +afraid of poisonous mushrooms. How awful it would be if anybody ate one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're very stupid," said her mother, but in a gentler tone. +"Next time I'll go with you and show you those you are to gather. Don't cry." +And she stroked the hair which she had pulled a short time before.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 143]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Then Rosa felt pleased that her mother was no longer angry +with her, and would teach her to find the right mushrooms.</p> + +<p class="normal">The golden sun was smiling down on the moss, and everything +was bright and cheerful even in the Przykop when Mrs. Tiralla went with Rosa to +gather mushrooms.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Look here, Röschen, this one. And here, this one." She +pointed to different places in the moss with her foot and told the child to +gather.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But aren't those poisonous, mammie? Marianna says----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Fiddle-de-dee. What does Marianna know about it? She's more +stupid than I took her to be; she a country girl and doesn't even know +mushrooms? Pick them, pick them. They're good. They're your father's favourite +dish when they're fried in butter and then stewed in cream."</p> + +<p class="normal">So Rosa knelt down quickly and was soon busy gathering the red +mushrooms that had an orange tinge and little white knobs on their caps as +though they had been embroidered; such bright looking mushrooms they were, the +prettiest of them all. And then she gathered some of the brown ones as well, +which she had avoided so carefully the first time, and her basket was soon full.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now we've got enough," said Mrs. Tiralla. "Now you can't make +a mistake, and you'll know where to find them. Next time you can go alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, of course I know now. But it's nice to go to the +wood with you," said the child ingratiatingly, hanging on her mother's arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was almost as tall as her mother now, their shoulders were +on the same level; they could have been taken for sisters. The black-haired +woman with +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 144]</span> +her velvety, sparkling eyes was certainly more beautiful, but there was such a +gentle, happy expression on the girl's face that made one forgetful of her +freckles and her pale blue eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"How father will feast," said Rosa, and pressed her mother's +arm. "Shall you prepare them for him this evening?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I shall prepare them for him this evening," repeated the +woman absent-mindedly. Her thoughts were already far ahead. Would he suffer when +he had eaten them, as Marianna had said? She trembled. But there must be no +compassion. Had she not suffered, suffered agonies from the very first hour he +had come to her mother's sewing-room and had stretched out his coarse fingers to +take her? She did not like him, no, she had never liked him. And she disliked +him more than ever since he had begun to drink, since he had returned one +evening from the inn dead drunk; and now he often came home so intoxicated that +Marianna and Jendrek had to take him under the arms and drag him into the house. +If he ate some of the mushrooms, and the Holy Virgin would stand by him, he +would close his eyes immediately afterwards. That would be the best thing for +him. Had he not said the last time he was drunk and was crying so bitterly, "I +don't suit this place. When my Sophia is a widow, will she love me more than she +does now?" Yes, she would. He was quite right, and he had felt it dully in his +intoxication. A monument should be erected to his memory, as beautiful a cross +as could be ordered in Gradewitz, or even in Gnesen. If only he would depart, it +only he would depart and leave her in peace.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman's feelings towards her husband became almost tender. +She would make the mushrooms very +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 145]</span> +nice, and neither spare the butter nor the cream.</p> + +<p class="normal">They should taste very, very good.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">As mother and daughter left the Przykop they saw Mr. Tiralla +standing at the garden gate looking out for them. He was longing for his supper, +for which he felt an aching void. But there was another kind of void which +tortured him still more. Now Sophia had even taken the child away with her. It +was fortunate that Mikolai was coming home in the autumn, then he would have +more company. Mr. Tiralla had never liked being alone, and now he liked it less +than ever. There was an indefinite something that frightened him; he could not +have said what it was, but it seemed to be lying in wait for him at every +corner.</p> + +<p class="normal">He called out to the two in a joyful voice. He was holding up +his hand to his eyes in order to protect them from the sun that was setting +blood-red behind the pines, and the two figures in their light-coloured dresses +looked like angels of light. "<i>Psia krew</i>, why so late? Come, my dears, +come along."</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa let her mother's arm go. Swinging her basket in the air +she ran up to her father, "Mushrooms, mushrooms." She was glowing with +happiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">He stroked her flying hair away from her face and patted her +cheeks. "My darling, my consolation."</p> + +<p class="normal">Why did her father look so serious? He was low-spirited. Rosa +gazed at him with womanly, anxious eyes that love had sharpened. Her daddy was +growing old. What a lot of lines he had in his face, lots of crooked lines like +those the crows made in the snow with their feet. And still he was so stout, and +had such a good appetite. "Do you love me?" she asked affectionately, raising +her face for him to kiss. "I love you."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 146]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He did not kiss her; he was looking at his wife, who was +coming on more slowly.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to Mrs. Tiralla as though her foot faltered, as +though a leaden weight were almost paralyzing her. There he stood waiting +impatiently. Well, he should have them. She ran past him with a muttered "God be +with me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Nobody was in the kitchen. What had become of that slow hussy +Marianna? But never mind, she could not have done with her to-day. She put wood +and peat on the fire with her own hands, so that the embers were soon ablaze, +placed a pan on the fire, and fetched butter and cream from the larder. She was +very busy.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Rosa came running in. "Mother, daddy asks if +the mushrooms are really good?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, of course," said Mrs. Tiralla, and pushed her daughter +impatiently out of the kitchen. She could not have her looking on. Then she cut +the mushrooms to pieces and threw them into the pan and poured boiling water on +them; they were to boil for some time, bad and good all together, so that they +might lose their shape and colour and all resemble each other so much that they +could not be distinguished. Nobody should say of her that she had set poisonous +mushrooms before her husband; besides, he would not have eaten them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The water bubbled and hissed on the stove; it was boiling +fiercely, as she had made a huge fire. The food must be cooked quickly, Mr. +Tiralla was longing for his supper.</p> + +<p class="normal">Just then he stuck his head into the kitchen. "Will there soon +be something to eat, Sophia?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"There'll soon be something to eat." She put some more wood on +the fire; the mushrooms were already +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 147]</span> +getting tender. The pan was filled with a slimy sauce that had a very powerful +smell. She bent over it and sniffed. Good gracious, the smell was so pungent +that it would betray her! Away with it! She quickly poured the sauce and scum +off to the very last drop, took another pan, melted some more butter in it, and +then put the mushrooms into it. The horrid odour had disappeared, now they smelt +delicious.</p> + +<p class="normal">While the mushrooms were frying in the butter, Mrs. Tiralla +stood by with folded hands. "Holy Mother, I call on thee, do not forsake me, +pray for me." (Oh, if--it only these mushrooms were cooked, he would eat them, +and then?) "Jesus Christ, hear us, now and in the hour of our death." (If--if he +ate some, then--then?) "Son of God, we commend this soul to thee, have mercy on +it." (Oh, when he had eaten?) No, she could not pray any longer, all she could +do was to whisper just above her breath, "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, assist this soul +in its death-agony."</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna came into the kitchen. Dear, dear, was the mistress +already cooking? Bustling about in her haste to get on, the girl knocked the +plates together. Oh, how the Pani would scold. She ducked her head +involuntarily.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the Pani was looking straight into the glowing fire. Then +suddenly awaking as from a dream she seized the pan containing the cream, poured +its contents over the dish of mushrooms, shook it, and told the maid to carry it +into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">As Marianna placed the dish on the table at which the man, +woman, and child were already seated, Mrs. Tiralla turned deadly pale. She gave +a start as her husband began at once to help himself; it seemed as though she +were about to grip his arm.</p> + +<p class="normal">"God bless it!" said the maid, in a loud voice, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 148]</span> +then, turning round, she furtively made the sign of the cross and spat three +times. Ugh, mushrooms! She shuddered. And how strange the mistress was; she must +also be afraid, her face was so pale. Marianna ran out of the room, she felt all +at once so frightened. How could anybody eat mushrooms? Ugh! She again felt the +horrible, choking sensation which had oppressed her heart and numbed her limbs +the time she was so ill. She could not fight against it. She crouched near the +fire and folded her hands, she was so terribly frightened. But one thing she did +know, and that was as soon as she could she would go to the priest--no, rather +to the gendarme. But then she rejected the idea of the gendarme, for would he +believe her? But if she could swear to it by all the saints? But she could not +swear to it, not exactly swear to it. However, she would tell the priest about +it. What a house this was! How dreadful it was for a poor servant girl like her +to have to serve in such a place. She wept bitterly.</p> + +<p class="normal">However, when Jendrek knocked at the kitchen door a moment +later for her to come out, she ran behind the stable to him and forgot her +master and the mushrooms.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla noted with horror with what relish her husband +was eating the mushrooms. She felt quite numbed, she could not move. But when +Rosa asked for some, too--they smelt so good, she had taken a fancy to them--she +screamed, "They're too indigestible for you. I shall not eat any either. We +can't touch them."</p> + +<p class="normal">So Mr. Tiralla finished them all. "I've not tasted anything I +liked do well for a long time," he said with a fat smile as he stroked his +paunch. "That's because my little daughter has gathered them for me and my +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 149]</span> +dear wife has cooked them. Thanks, both of you." He nodded to his daughter and +took hold of his wife's hand and kissed it.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was remarkably gentle, so strangely tender. His wife felt +startled, his voice already sounded quite different. She watched him with +anxious eyes--he had asked for a glass of gin after the rich food--did he feel +ill already? She could scarcely keep her feet quiet under the table. Away, away, +oh, how she would have liked to run away; she did not want to look on any +longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Give me a kiss, Sophia darling," begged her husband.</p> + +<p class="normal">She humoured him. It would be the last, why should she refuse +him the last kiss?</p> + +<p class="normal">He drew her on his knee. Then he sent Rosa out of the room; +she was to go to bed so that she could get up next morning and fetch lots of +mushrooms. "Go, go, I say," he urged, as she clung to him tenderly. However much +he loved her, he had only thoughts for his Sophia at present. She was so good, +so affectionate to-day; oh, God, were the good times returning?</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna was in her first deep sleep that night when she heard +her master's door creak. Suddenly everything came back to her. Holy Mother, the +mushrooms. Did he feel very bad? The poor master! She jumped out of bed as quick +as lightning and rushed to the door. But when she tore it open, she saw that it +was only her mistress who had just carefully closed the master's door opposite +and was standing outside. What had she been up to in that room? The maid almost +screamed, she was so surprised.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla looked frightened when she caught +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 150]</span> +sight of the maid, and they stared at each other for some moments. Then the +woman put her finger to her lips, "Sh! I--I--couldn't sleep upstairs--I heard +something--and I thought of thieves--yes, thieves--and then I ran down."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, there are no thieves here." The maid gave a loud laugh, +it sounded too ridiculous that the Pani, who had never been afraid of thieves, +should suddenly speak of them. Surely she had not come down on account of them? +But why? It had never occurred to her to creep down to Mr. Tiralla before? +Marianna's eyes grew very big. But then she suddenly thought, she has wanted to +see how he feels after the food, for he ate every bit of it, the poor man. +Marianna sighed. Then she cast an insolent glance at her mistress and said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, and how's the master? I suppose he's not very well, +eh?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why, why?" asked the woman, trembling. But then she grew +calm, the girl's impertinent glances helped her to regain her composure. "I +don't know what you mean," she said in a lofty tone. "Mr. Tiralla is sleeping +quietly." With a slight nod she turned away and crept so softly up to her room +that not a stair creaked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Driven by curiosity Marianna put her head into her master's +room. All was dark; she could see nothing, but she heard him breathing regularly +and deeply. He did not even groan, he was sleeping so quietly. Was he still +alive? She groped her way to the bed. Thank God, there he lay warm and +comfortable.</p> + +<p class="normal">As she bent over him he stretched out his arms and stammered, +half asleep, "Heigh, darling!"</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was standing before her glass upstairs looking at +her pale, disfigured face. She felt overcome with shame, a shame that was even +greater than her terror. What must the maid have thought of her? Dark lines +under her eyes, her hair dishevelled, her face all mottled. Oh, God! She had +submitted to it all--and he was still alive. She was seized with a violent fit +of fury, she would have liked to destroy everything, smash everything to pieces. +Pressing her clenched fists against her forehead she uttered a deep groan. She +was the one who had been deceived, she always was. Böhnke, too, had deceived +her. Had he not told her that fly agarics--the orange-red mushrooms with white +warts--were very poisonous, and that the devil's toadstool--the brown, squat one +which so strongly resembled the <i>boletus edulis</i>--was even more so? He had +brought a book with him, and had read it to her secretly in the little garden +with the palings all round, where they had stolen like a pair of lovers who want +to be as far away from everybody as possible. He had also shown her the +illustrations, and she had watched most carefully as he pointed out what the +poisonous mushrooms looked like. She had impressed it firmly on her memory. Four +fly agarics were enough to bring death, people said, but he--he lived. But had +she not also read in the schoolmaster's book that "death can either occur in the +course of an hour or two, or after two or three days"? H'm, Mr. Tiralla was very +strong, what would kill any other man scarcely affected him. She would have to +wait then, wait.</p> + +<p class="normal">She threw herself on her knees. If only he had died at once, +this waiting was so awful. She dreaded the thought of what the morrow might +bring forth. She had been calm enough while cooking the mushrooms, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 152]</span> +but now she was the reverse. She could hardly bear to wait any longer. But now +it was no longer a great longing for his death, which was to bring her release, +it was only a fervent desire to be free from this great fear which oppressed her +heart and confused her senses. She sprang up from her knees as though she were +out of her mind, then threw herself down again, the next moment to jump up once +more and raise her clasped hands to heaven. "Mary, Holy Virgin, pray for me!" +What was the Holy Virgin to pray for? Oh, she knew what for; knew better than +she did herself, for <i>she</i> did not know any longer. Life? Death? Alas, +alas, now she would have preferred him to live; only not to see him lying there +distorted with convulsions, and with the hue of death already on his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman crept into the darkest corner of the room like a +frightened animal, and bit her hands, which she had pressed against her mouth, +and wept and trembled. How slowly the night crept on, would it never, never be +day? How quietly Rosa was breathing. She was sleeping so well. Oh, to be a child +once more, an innocent child who knows nothing of Life's wickedness.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was filled with an intense longing for innocence +and purity, for a blameless, peaceful life. She would go to confession as soon +as possible next morning. She would confess everything, so that she could +breathe once more as quietly as her child. Even at the last examination of +conscience she had not been able to find the right expression for what was +stirring in her heart. But now, when the sins against the fifth commandment were +being enumerated: "Have you by means of blows, curses, and such-like injured +yourself or others, are you angry, envious, revengeful, have you lived in hatred +and enmity with others, have +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 153]</span> +you grieved others by bitter words, have you hurt them intentionally?" now she +would strike her breast and cry, "Yes, yes," so that she might say later on, "I +thank Thee, Divine Redeemer, that Thou hast given me absolution and forgiveness +for my sins in the Sacrament of Penance."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she grew more composed; the mere thought of confession +calmed and relieved her immeasurably. She recovered so far as to creep out of +her corner and go to Rosa's bed, although she was still trembling, and wake her. +"Let us pray, dear," she said, clasping her hands round those of the child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What shall we pray?" inquired Rosa, who was always ready to +pray and was instantly wide awake.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Repeat the Act of Desire used at the preparation for Holy +Communion."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, mother, I don't know it." Rosa bent her head in deep +shame.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I do," said Mrs. Tiralla. "Lord, my soul is longing for +Thee. Let me again to-day partake of Thy saving grace. Thou knowest my misery, +come. Thou who hast redeemed me by Thy blood, O Son of God. When Thy holy body, +O most sweet Jesus, unites itself with my body, and Thy holy soul has poured +itself into my soul, oh, what a new, happy life I shall lead. Be gracious to us. +Hear us."</p> + +<p class="normal">She repeated it in a loud voice, and the child raised her +hands devoutly and with a pious shudder murmured it after her mother.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">When Mrs. Tiralla came down next morning it was late. She had +at last fallen asleep whilst kneeling by Rosa's bedside, so that she did not see +the sunbeam dancing on the wall, nor hear the cock crowing, the clatter of the +milk pails, the squeaking of the chain in +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 154]</span> +the old well, nor the lowing of the cattle. She had fallen into a dead sleep. +And when she at last started up in confusion, awakened by Rosa's caressing +touch, she did not venture to go downstairs. She sent the child. "Look if he's +up."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rosa did not return. Why did she not come? Mrs. Tiralla +waited and waited; the minutes seemed to lengthen themselves into hours. Holy +Mother, what had happened downstairs, as the child did not return? Courage, +courage, courage! She pressed both hands to her heart that was throbbing +furiously. If only she had never come to Starydwór, if only she had remained the +poorest among the poor, the most wretched among the wretched.</p> + +<p class="normal">She listened involuntarily. Hark, was that not his voice? No, +neither scream nor groan reached her ear. There was no help for it, she would +have to go downstairs. It would seem so strange if she were to remain in her +room any longer; she would have to go down at once.</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew a deep breath, tore the door open, took a run and +rushed downstairs. Where was he lying? Where should she find him?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good morning," said Mr. Tiralla. He was in a good humour and +was just coming out of his room. His eyes were still full of sleep and he was +rubbing them.</p> + +<p class="normal">But his eyes were quite clear, they still saw the light of +day. The woman started back as though she had seen a ghost.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why are you so frightened, eh?" he cried, laughing. "You've +slept too long, I suppose? Ha, ha."</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer. Even if her life had depended upon it, she +could not have uttered a single word. It was too terrible, too terrible!</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not pay any attention to her silence nor to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 155]</span> +her disturbed looks. He was in a very happy frame of mind and was waving a +letter in his hand, a letter from his soldier son.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai had not written for a long time, he did not care for +writing. But now he wrote:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dear Parents,--Your son, Mikolai, sends you his love, and he +is very well. I can tell you I am pleased to get away from the army. It is not +the work for me, I prefer to till the ground. And my friend, Martin Becker, who +is a miller by profession, but has not got a mill at present, because, although +he has some money, it is not enough to buy a big mill, and he won't have a small +one, will come home with me. He will help to manage the farm. Dear father, you +will not want so many hands then; we will do everything, and you will like +Martin. He has no parents, and hails from Klein-Hauland, near Opalenitza. I will +let you know the day we are coming. Dear mother, if you will be kind to Becker I +shall be grateful to you, for he is a good fellow. Dear sister, I kiss you in my +thoughts; our Rosa has, no doubt, grown into a pretty girl. We shall come, all +being well, in seven weeks' time. With a kiss to you all, </p> +<p class="right">"Your affectionate Son."</p> + +<p class="normal">That was his son, just as he was in reality, his dear, good +son. A sudden affection for the boy who had been away from home so long awoke in +Mr. Tiralla's heart. It was such a long time since he had seen anything of him. +He had been away almost three years, and although he had twice driven to Breslau +during that time and had looked him up at the barracks, still it was very +different from having him at home. It was a good thing that the boy was coming.</p> + +<p class="normal">It seemed to Mr. Tiralla as though he had been thinking of his +Mikolai the whole time he had been +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 156]</span> +away; but that had not been the case. How could he have had leisure to think of +him? All, all his thoughts had been taken up with his Sophia. But now he was +filled with an impatient longing for his son; he could hardly await the time +when the reserves would be dismissed. If only he were at home. The evenings were +already growing long; there were no more beautiful summer evenings, for the +weather had turned cool and dreary unusually early. Such evenings were very +dismal in Starydwór if you had nobody to sit and talk to.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was ill, and her strange behaviour had made her +husband quite ill, too. His Sophia! What was the matter with her? Was she angry +with him? He ransacked his brain to find out what he had done to her, but he +found nothing. He had done his utmost to put her into a good humour. He had +driven to Rosenthal's in Gnesen and bought her a smart black-and-white check +coat and skirt. It suited her admirably, and when she had it on she looked like +a fine lady going on her travels. But all he could get from her was a feeble, "I +should have preferred a black costume." Then he had driven to Gnesen and ordered +her a black costume, and as that had not turned out satisfactory, he had even +gone to Posen about it. But when he had brought it home--it had been nice and +dear--she had only said, "But I can't wear it after all." The deuce, why not? +The truth was, he never could do anything to please her. That made him very +low-spirited. Why was she so perverse? Why did she look at him so strangely?</p> + +<p class="normal">He had caught one of those rare glances she vouchsafed him, +and it had bewildered him. He had asked Marianna if she knew why her mistress +was in such a bad humour, and why she frowned so.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 157]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Let the wicked look fall on the dog," whispered Marianna, and +spat on the ground whilst she made the sign of the cross. She would take good +care not to mention her suspicions to her master. If she said to him, "That +woman is up to something," he would turn her out of the house as a reward. He +was still so wrapped up in the woman. And she really did not know herself what +the Pani was up to. The mushrooms had agreed with the master all right; he had +not been ill after them. She had had nothing to confide to the priest. And even +if she had had something to tell him about the Pani, he would never have +believed a particle of it, he was so attached to her. She, Marianna, had even +had to acknowledge her own sinful thoughts when she had gone to confession. When +the priest had asked her, "Do you nourish wicked or suspicious thoughts against +anybody in your heart?" she had had to confess that she did, and he had +seriously exhorted her not to transgress against the eighth commandment.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Marianna shrugged her shoulders when Mr. Tiralla stood +before her with a perplexed look on his face, and gave him an evasive answer. +How horrid his Sophia had been to him again, he complained. He had hardly been +into her room--she had established herself in the little room upstairs now and +rarely came down--and then merely to ask how she was. He had only ventured to +take hold of her hand and ask her if she were feverish, as her eyes burned so, +and she had flung his hand away as if he were some unclean animal, and had wept, +and wept, until he had grown quite uneasy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know," said Marianna. "Pani must be ill, I suppose; +you had better ask the doctor." She really felt very grieved about the poor +master. And +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 158]</span> +who knows, if he were to die now, perhaps he would bequeath her something, so +that she and her little children could have enough to live on, or at least give +her such a good dowry that Jendrek or another would make her his kobieta<sup class="ftnRef"><a name="ftnRef_158a" +href="#ftn_158a">[A]</a></sup>? So she was very obliging, and was always finding +something to do for her master. She would come at least ten times into the room, +when he sat alone with his bottle--poor master to have to sit quite alone and +drink like that!</p> + +<hr class="ftn"> +<div class="ftn"> + <p class="ftnText"><a name="ftn_158a" href="#ftnRef_158a"><sup class="ftnRef"> + [A]</sup></a> + Wife.</p></div> + + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla did not go to the inn any more, he shunned all +those inquisitive eyes. Everybody used to ask him about his wife when he went +there, and he confessed to the maid with a sigh that he could no longer boast +about her, for when he did he felt as if he were going to choke, and he could +not utter a single word.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla often heard her husband and the maid laughing +together as she sat in her room upstairs; and drinking as well, for she could +hear them draw four or five corks every evening. Ugh! how he could drink! The +woman shuddered with disgust. There was that monster sitting with the vulgar +hussy, cracking jokes that were anything but refined, and drinking hard. How +could he forget himself like that! How could he intoxicate himself to that +degree! Beer alone could not do it, it must be Tokay as well. But wait, was it +not a good thing that he drank so much? What would otherwise have happened to +her? He would have worried her continually. If she could not be released from +him altogether, in this way she could at least reckon on some hours' freedom. +And after such nights he used to sleep until morning without waking. Oh, if only +he were always, always drunk!</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla lay in bed listening to the sounds downstairs, +with her nerves on edge. Now the jokes must +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 159]</span> +have become very practical, for the girl was screaming with laughter, and it +sounded as if he were choking. And now--she heard it quite plainly, although not +a single word reached her ears--now he was babbling some absurd nonsense, at +which the girl was almost suffocated with laughter, until he at last grew +silent, and letting his head sink on the table fell asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now he was happy; he was dreaming blissfully. Oh, it could not +be so bad when you got to the stage of neither knowing nor feeling anything of +it all. She really did not wish him ill--Mrs. Tiralla was almost praising +herself--when she wished for his sake that he were always so drunk. What good +did he get out of life? He had no sense for higher things, and he did not derive +any pleasure from her. He really did not, she must be just. But how could she +give others any pleasure if she were not happy herself?--for he was there, still +there.</p> + +<p class="normal">She clenched her fists and bit her lips so as not to lament +aloud. Nothing, nothing had helped her, neither the mushrooms, nor throwing him +into the ditch, nor the rat poison. She had not cooked any more mushrooms for +him, although he had often asked for some. "Gather them yourself," she had +answered curtly, and had not allowed Rosa to fetch any more. There was no object +in doing so. And throwing him into the ditch? Bah! Her upper lip curled +contemptuously at the thought of her own childish stupidity. A ditch was nothing +to Mr. Tiralla; he was able to get out of a much deeper pit. But rat poison! +What about that poison still lying in her chest in the lumber-room? A great +longing for it took possession of her. There was release, it lay in her hands, +and still she did not venture to make use of it. Would he also be guarded +against that poison, which +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 160]</span> +was said to be strong? Or was it after all not strong enough to kill people? If +only she could find out exactly. Who could give her the most reliable +information? Böhnke? Oh, that liar! Her whole body shook, she sobbed so +tempestuously. He had deceived her. He had pretended to teach her which were +poisonous mushrooms, and he had not done so. The wretch! Let him never appear +before her eyes again.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla felt furious when she thought of her slave. Had +he not sworn that he was devoted to her, first mutely and then in words? On +Easter Sunday after their festive meal, when Mr. Tiralla had fallen asleep, +surfeited with all the usual rich dishes, and Rosa had gone to the village +church with Marianna, he had besought her on his knees, and she, with a look at +the sleeper, had hastily whispered to him, "If I were free." Then he had sworn +to her with the most solemn oaths that she should be free, that she must be +free. And now? Oh, the coward! The whole summer had passed by; the swallows had +departed long ago, but the son was flying back to the paternal nest and was +bringing somebody else with him; four more eyes to pry on her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was tormented with a great fear when she thought of +Mikolai's return. He had keen eyes, he was not stupid. He was certainly not like +Rosa, who had only one foot on earth, and who used to dream with open eyes, and +believed implicitly what was told her. If anything were to happen, it must +happen before Mikolai returned to his father.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla made up her mind to get out of bed; nobody would +see or hear her now. She had sent Rosa to another room, she could not bear to +have anybody with her. Now the child slept in a room +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 161]</span> +on the other side of the passage that had stood empty; and Marianna would sleep +with her when the room downstairs was to be used for the two men; that is, if +Mr. Tiralla's were not at liberty by that time.</p> + +<p class="normal">She hastily stuck her feet out of bed. She would slip over to +the lumber-room now and fetch it out of the chest. She would not let Marianna +take it to him any more, she would give it to him herself tomorrow, either in +his coffee or wine.</p> + +<p class="normal">She put her feet on the floor with a jerk. But all at once she +felt she could not walk; her limbs refused to move. She felt as weak as the +first time she got up after Rosa's birth. She began to tremble and perspire, to +sigh and pray, but no angel restored her strength.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then at last she perceived that the saints did not will it at +present, that the right hour had not yet come. So she crept back into bed and +drew the feather bed over her head. She lay under all the feathers, and still +she felt icy cold, and unutterably miserable and wretched. Downstairs her +husband was carousing with the woman, but she was as though tied hand and foot. +She thought she was dying. She gnashed her teeth and clenched her hands; she +could not move a limb, but her thoughts flew with lightning rapidity. It was +fury, pain, and disappointed hopes that made her feel so ill, that were +consuming her life. She was going to die; alas, die, before she had lived, +before she had even lived one year in the way she wanted to live.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 162]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">When Marianna was sent to the grocer's in the village, she +used to talk to everybody about the lively time they would soon be having at +Starydwór. The young master was coming home, and was bringing somebody with him. +"Nice young gentlemen, two at once," holding up two fingers. And then she would +laugh so merrily, so incorrigibly, so shamelessly, with dancing eyes and big +white teeth, that the listeners had to laugh too.</p> + +<p class="normal">Jendrek was the only one who did not laugh. He was not at all +glad to hear that two more were coming. He had no fault to find with the old +man, who had given him many a cigar and penny for a drink, but he did not +approve of those young fellows. He would prefer to seek another place and +another sweetheart.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was rather pleased that Jendrek wanted to leave, +although he would never have had the heart to give him notice. For when Mikolai +was at home, his dear Mikolai, he would help him.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Marianna did not mind much either. Let him go. Two +handsome young gentlemen were coming now. True, she had not seen the young +master yet, as she had not been very long at Starydwór, but according to Rosa's +enthusiastic accounts her little brother must be something wonderful, splendid, +the like of which had never been seen before. And the other one, his friend?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 163]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I love those my brother loves," Rosa had replied.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"God be with you," said Marianna, in a calm voice, as she +shook hands with Jendrek, and put up her mouth for him to kiss. He was going to +Mr. Jokisch, so it was not as though he were going far away. "If ever you care +to see me, you need only whistle under my window, and I'll come out," she added.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla, however, seemed to take Jendrek's departure to +heart. "I'm sorry you're going," she said to him, pressing a two-shilling piece +into his hand, as she shook hands with him. "Think kindly of us." She looked so +long and earnestly at him as she said this that he felt quite touched. The Pani +had grown much thinner lately, what could be the matter with her? And she was as +pale as she had been when she was so anxious about Marianna's illness. H'm, that +girl did not deserve that the Pani should feel anxious about her. The Pani was +much too good for her and also for the master; she was much too good for the +whole confounded place.</p> + +<p class="normal">If Mrs. Tiralla had been able to read Jendrek's thoughts, she +would not have fretted so much about what he did, or did not, know, and about +what he would tell when he was no longer in their service. She felt very uneasy +when she saw him going to somebody else. She always had that feeling of terror +and uneasiness now. The doctor put it down to nerves. A doctor had been sent +for; Mr. Tiralla would not hear of anything else, and she had even asked for one +herself in the hope that he might be able to help her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now she was constantly taking medicine to soothe and +strengthen her nerves, and still she found no peace by day or by night. Her eyes +were dilated from want +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 164]</span> +of sleep, from staring into the dark. Her hands had become thin, nearly as thin +as Rosa's, and she had grown as slender as a young girl; she could almost have +worn her child's dresses. She was too slender. The woman looked at herself in +the glass with a feeling of dismay. Was that really her face, the "beautiful +Sophia Tiralla's" face? Her skin, which had been as smooth as satin, had begun +to fade. Was her beauty disappearing? Was she to lose that as well, and at her +age? A deep sigh full of the most grievous impotence filled the lonely room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was whistling in the yard. Rosa and he were +feeding the poultry, and the birds were pecking and scraping and cackling and +quarrelling, as they greedily looked for the yellow corn that had been scattered +to them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman stared at the two from her window with burning eyes. +There they stood, Mr. Tiralla so broad and beaming. He had grown quite cheerful +lately, for the day after to-morrow, perhaps even to-morrow, Mikolai was coming. +Everybody in the house was delighted except her. When Mikolai was there, there +would never be another chance.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was Mrs. Tiralla's fixed idea. In a transport of despair +and fervour, hatred and devotion, all strangely mingled, she flung herself on +her knees before the picture where she had prayed for so many years, and which +reminded her so strongly of her best and only friend's delicate, beautiful face. +"Help, help!" After praying and weeping for a long time, weeping so bitterly and +so copiously that her face and hands and even her bosom were quite wet with +tears, she rose. She had made up her mind. Mikolai was coming to-morrow, +therefore quick, at the eleventh hour.</p> + +<p class="normal">She went to the lumber-room and fetched the poison. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 165]</span> +The yellow grains looked exactly like those her husband had just been +scattering. She would throw some of them to the poultry that very evening when +they were hungry. And if they died--what a pity it would be about them--then Mr. +Tiralla should get some of the powder in his wine or coffee.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa had gone to the Przykop with Marianna to fetch some +branches and moss. She had made up her mind to place a wreath over the front +door in honour of her brother's return; he should see at once how happy she was +that he was coming back to her. And the stranger's first impression of the old +house, with its dark, yawning passage, would thus be made a pleasant one also. +Rosa had never had any fault to find with her home; still, she felt in a dull +kind of way that Marianna was right when she used to say, "Ugh! how +uncomfortable this place is!"</p> + +<p class="normal">So the two gathered some of the green, damp moss, with small, +delicate, feathery leaves on short stalks, that covered the ground in the morass +like a carpet. Rosa was going to wind it round a rope; she had made many wreaths +like that for the Holy Virgin's altar at Starawieś and for the Boża męka, which +stood on the outskirts of her father's field, and they used to look lovely when +she stuck a few flowers among the moss. True, she had no more flowers, for the +few that she once had in the little garden behind the palings had lived only a +very short time; they had soon been choked by the weeds that flourished so +luxuriantly there. But if she put some of the bird-cherries which grew on the +roadside into it, or some of the cranberries that shone like drops of blood in +the moss, the wreath would look very bright.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa was very happy and excited to-day. The sedate +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 166]</span> +girl was completely changed; she tore up handfuls of moss and, standing behind +Marianna, threw them gleefully on her cap and down her neck, as she bent +forward. And when the latter, scolding and panting, loosened her frill and +picked the earth and bits of moss off her neck, she jumped upon her like a wild +cat, put both arms round her, and imprinted numerous boisterous kisses on her +brown throat.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Just look at little Rosa, she's like a lover," cried +Marianna. Throwing her arms round the girl she wrestled with her and kissed her +merrily, so that Rosa's delicate little face glowed and she was quite +breathless.</p> + +<p class="normal">What a beautiful day it was! At last the two let go of each +other, and falling on the grass lay there and laughed. There was only a little +bit of sky to be seen between the interlaced branches; they were quite alone. +Then Rosa, summoning up her courage, said to the maid:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Do tell me, Marianna, I should so like to know what happens +when a man says to a woman, 'I love you.' Does he kiss her then as I kissed you? +And then does she kiss him as you kissed me? I should like to know it; please +tell me." She folded her hands as she always did when she was praying.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna laughed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Why did Marianna laugh so? Rosa felt annoyed; the girl had no +right to make fun of her. "Don't laugh," she said angrily, stamping her foot.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You'll find out what it's like when somebody says to you, 'I +love you,'" said Marianna, hardly able to contain herself. How stupid the girl +was still.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nobody will ever say to me, 'I love you,'" whispered Rosa, +bending her head, suddenly saddened. "I'm going into a convent. But, of +course"--she jumped up, and opening her eyes wide spread out her +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 167]</span> +arms--"of course, He'll love me as I love Him." Passing from sudden sadness to +brightness, she sang in a loud voice:</p> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="continue">"Pray to God for us, then shall it be,<br> +Rejoice, O Mary--<br> +That we with Jesus heaven shall see."</p> +</div><br> + +<p class="normal">Marianna joined in, she knew the hymn. The maid's deeper voice +mingled with Rosa's treble; they sang with great fervour:</p> +<br> +<p class="center">"Pray to God for us, O Mary."</p> +<br> +<p class="normal">It sounded beautiful. The tree-tops ceased their rustling, the +autumn wind stopped blowing; the Przykop had grown perfectly calm and was +listening.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the two went home hand-in-hand with their aprons full of +moss. They had not spoken much more, for Rosa had grown quiet. When Marianna, +who could not stand the silence any longer, had begun to tell a gruesome story +about a servant girl who had once lived at Starydwór and had buried her child in +the Przykop, Rosa had given her such a look that the talkative woman had held +her tongue as though she had received a blow on her mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">The late afternoon sun was shining on the roofs of the old +farm when they reached home. Marianna had also brought a quantity of mountain +ash with her, and Rosa at once sat down on the doorstep and began to make the +wreath. First a bunch of green moss, then red berries, then green moss again; it +grew rapidly under her practised fingers. Putting her head on one side and +raising the wreath she eyed her handiwork with complacence.</p> + +<p class="normal">Just then her mother came past; her dress touched the girl as +she sat on the doorstep.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good evening, mummy."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla did not hear; she was like a woman +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 168]</span> +walking in her sleep, and had not noticed her child. She was enticing the +poultry to come and eat. "Chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck."</p> + +<p class="normal">The birds came running, and in front of them all was a white +hen, a very good layer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla hesitated for one moment--that was her favourite +hen--should she not shoo it away? But then she decided to scatter the corn after +all. There must be a victim.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the beautiful white hen flew at the other greedy hens with +open beak, and ate almost all the corn herself. The cock, her lord, was the only +one she did not venture to chase away, so he got a little as well, and the +chickens furtively pecked a few grains too as they stood behind their mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now all the corn had been devoured. The woman, who had been +crouching on the ground, got up with a sigh; now she would soon see the result. +She went back into the house without noticing Rosa.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the latter caught hold of her dress, "Mother, do look. To +welcome Mikolai." She held out the green wreath joyfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"For Mikolai?" The woman stared at the wreath. For Mikolai! +She had to restrain herself from screaming. It would not only be of use to +welcome the living, such wreaths are made for the dead too. She shivered and +rubbed her cold hands together, as she cried, "I feel chilled," and then, +running past Rosa, who was grieved that her mother took so little notice of her +beautiful wreath, she hurried upstairs and locked herself into her room. She +would not see nor hearken to anybody. And still she listened to every sound +downstairs, and would have liked to see what the poultry were doing. Had the +beautiful white hen fallen down already, stiff, with outstretched legs?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 169]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Her longing drew her to the window, from whence she cast a +covert glance from behind the curtain. But she saw neither hen nor cock. Had +they been able to run away? Where were they now?</p> + +<p class="normal">The shades of evening grew heavier and heavier; soon the farm +lay in complete darkness, and the woman could distinguish nothing. Her eyes +smarted as she stepped back from the window. She felt tired to death.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she heard her husband call to Marianna, as he came in +from the fields, to bring him something to eat and drink. That drove her on. +Yes, he should have something to eat and drink--but from her hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Hi, where are you all? Sophia, Rosa, there's a postcard," +shouted Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">Doors banged. Then a jubilant cry was heard from Rosa. "He's +coming, he's coming. Mikolai is coming to-morrow afternoon."</p> + +<p class="normal">To-morrow? Already? The listening woman shuddered with terror; +it must be done then. Putting her trembling hands into her pocket, she got hold +of a little box, and in the little box was----</p> + +<p class="normal">Clenching her teeth together she went downstairs. She wanted +to go into the yard, but whilst flitting through the passage she heard her +husband and Rosa talking together in the sitting-room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where's your mother?" Mr. Tiralla was asking. Call her; she's +to come. I'm so happy."</p> + +<p class="normal">"She won't come," answered Rosa timidly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Because she has locked herself into her room. Oh, father, I +believe she's not well."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well or not well," shouted Mr. Tiralla--he banged the table, +and Rosa began crying--"to the devil with +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 170]</span> +her if she doesn't come down. I've had enough of it now She's to come down at +once. <i>Psia krew!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">H'm, his son's arrival had evidently given him courage; how +would he otherwise have dared behave like that? So rough, so brutal. Good!--she +put her fingers once more into her pocket and gripped the little box--she would +soon come.</p> + +<p class="normal">First of all, however, she went into the yard to look for her +white hen. Where was it lying? Where had it crept to? She sought for it in every +corner; she trembled whenever she saw something white gleaming, a piece of +paper, a rag, or a little chalk that had crumbled off the wall--could this be +it, or that? She felt so miserable that she at last did not know if she wanted +to find it or not.</p> + +<p class="normal">She wept as she sought her beautiful white hen. But as she +could neither find it nor the cock nor any of the chickens in the corners or on +the dunghill, she at length crept back into the house. But she dared not go into +the room; she feared her child's eyes. She would bring Mr. Tiralla something to +drink when Rosa had gone to bed. "Your health. Much good may it do you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But it seemed as though Rosa would never leave her father, and +the listening woman neither heard her husband's drunken jokes, nor the maid's +ribald laughter that evening. What could the two be doing? She crept downstairs +in her stockings; the kitchen door was ajar and Marianna was asleep by the fire, +and perfect peace and calm reigned in the sitting-room. It was as though an +angel were sitting at table with Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Mrs. Tiralla perceived that she could do nothing that +evening. Besides, would it not really be better to wait until the early morning? +At daybreak +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 171]</span> +she would find the poultry dead, and before the sun stood high in the heavens +Mr. Tiralla would have received his coffee.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla watched and prayed quietly the whole night +through. When she crept downstairs next morning there was nobody up. The eastern +sky was only faintly streaked with red, the morning light was still very wan and +pale, but she could see a little, nevertheless. She groped her way across the +yard, holding up her dress so as to prevent it from getting wet. There was not a +sound to be heard. But hark, what was that cry that sounded so shrill and +penetrating in her ear? She gave a sudden start and let her dress fall on the +wet grass. Why, it was the cock! The crowing came from the hen-house. She ran +there. Was he really alive? She tore the door open, and out walked the cock, +stretching his gleaming neck to its utmost extent and crowing shrilly. The cock +was alive. But what about the hen, her beautiful white hen? She had eaten much +more--was she alive too?</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman's eyes almost started out of her head, and she +stretched out a trembling finger. There, there came the hen out of the house, +shook herself, put her claws first through one of her outspread wings and then +through the other, smoothed her white feathers with her beak, and cackled long +and proudly. She had already laid her egg that morning.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the others? Mrs. Tiralla hastily stuck her head into the +hen-house. There they were, all sitting on the perch; not one of them was +missing, not one dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly a heavy load fell from the woman's heart. There was +nothing the matter with her beautiful white hen. She caught hold of the bird, +and, pressing it +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 172]</span> +in her arms, caressed and stroked it in spite of its struggles.</p> + +<p class="normal">But her joy was followed by the most violent fear, a fear that +was mingled with disappointment and relief. Now Mr. Tiralla would not die +either. The poison was no good, they had been imposed upon. Or--she put her +hands to her head, and then she felt as though she ought to fall on her +knees--the saints had not willed it. Yes, they had prevented it. It was poison +after all, that, she had in the box. She felt it burning her skin through all +her skirts. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph!" She heaved a sigh as she tore the box out of +her pocket. The saints were not on her side, so it was still not the right +thing; away with it. She wanted to hurl it away, into the pool, or there on the +dunghill. But then she let her outstretched arm sink--not there. Innocent people +might find it, the animals might eat it. But what should she do with it? All at +once she dreaded it; she would not have it in her chest any more. Besides, she +had no use for it now; if the saints were on her side, she would not be obliged +to give him the poison.</p> + +<p class="normal">She returned to the house like one who had been saved. There +she found everybody astir. Mr. Tiralla had also got up early, and was already +busy helping Rosa to fix the wreath over the door. He was standing on a stool +and she was handing him the nails, and at every dull stroke from the hammer he +gave a laugh, and the child clapped her hands. "Now it's fast. It looks pretty +like that."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla beckoned to her husband as she passed by. "Come +here a moment."</p> + +<p class="normal">She was beckoning to him? He felt much surprised, but followed +her at once into his room.</p> + +<p class="normal">As he entered she was standing in the middle of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 173]</span> +room near the table, holding out a little box. There it was, she did not want to +keep it any longer, not a day, not an hour, not a moment longer. She urged him +to take it.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was it, eh? He took the box from her and turned it round, +eyeing it curiously. Well, what was he to do with it? He was about to open it, +but she held his hand fast. No, he must not open it nor look at it. She might +perhaps have regretted it then. "Put it away, put it away," she cried hastily, +turning her head aside. "It's the poison! Holy Mother, the poison!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"What poison?" He felt very astonished; where did this poison +come from all at once?</p> + +<p class="normal">"From Gnesen--from the chemist's--you know, the rat poison," +she cried irately.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, I know." Now he remembered it.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But----" he started. She had brought it to him to-day? And, <i> +psia krew!</i> how strange she was. He stared at her with open mouth.</p> + +<p class="normal">His stupid expression irritated her. Why did he stare at her +like that? Oh, yes, he could still look at her, but little was wanting and he +would never have been able to look at her again. And she would not have been +obliged to look at him either. "Alas, alas!" She buried her face in her hands +and groaned aloud. Now she had given it back, now she was powerless, helpless, +hopeless. "Give it back to me," she cried, and tried to tear it out of his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">But this time he held it fast; he put his big fist, in which +the little box lay quite hidden, behind his back. "What am I to do with it?" he +asked, all at once suspicious. "I thought the rats had eaten it all, and you've +got some still?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No--yes, yes, they have--no, no, I didn't give it +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 174]</span> +all." Her voice was unsteady, hesitating. She felt that he suspected something, +and it terrified her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I don't know, leave me," she said suddenly, in a faint +voice, and broke into a hopeless fit of sobbing, terrified and completely +confused.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew!</i>" Mr. Tiralla raised his brows, and his eyes +wandered restlessly from his wife to the little box in his hand, and then from +the poison to his wife. He opened the box. H'm, there were still five whole +powders left in it, and he had only brought six in the first case. Yes, there +had been six. And now? "There are still five powders in it," he murmured.</p> + +<p class="normal">He was only thinking aloud, but she immediately took it as an +accusation. Her pallor changed into burning red, she trembled and swayed so much +that she had to rest her hand on the table in order to support herself. It was +as though she were standing at the bar. But her present danger helped her to +regain her self-command; all at once she was no longer at a loss for a lie.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There were twelve powders in it," she asserted boldly. "I've +used the half--more than the half."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Really?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Twelve powders, +really?"</p> + +<p class="normal">How strangely he said that. She cast a hasty glance at his +face in the hope of being able to read his thoughts. But it was as red and fat +as always, perhaps even a little redder. It told her nothing.</p> + +<p class="normal">She turned to go, full of desperate defiance. Let him think +what he liked then; it was all the same to her. She saw him go to the old bureau +that stood close to the bed-curtains, in which he kept his money and papers, and +then she closed the door with a bang.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla remained alone in the room. He was standing near +his bureau; he had let the box fall, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 175]</span> +it was lying on the dusty flap that he had just drawn out. He looked down at it, +and there was a peculiar, uneasy expression on his face, which had never been +there before. He passed his hand over his forehead; it was damp. Had that been +caused by fear? What absurd nonsense it was to think such things. His Sophia, +his dear Sophia! The poor thing was ill, that was all. Who can understand women +who suffer from nerves? Nerves are very bad things, very bad. You never know +what to expect.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Nerves, ah, nerves," he murmured, and stared in front of him. +Then he took hold of the box once more, but he did not open it. His dread of the +poisonous powders was even greater now than when he had brought them into the +house. He turned the box round and round, and then shook it. Would it not be +best to throw the horrid things on the fire? Let them burn.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he did not take the box into the kitchen after all, where +Marianna was keeping up a flaring wood fire in order to make the coffee. Later +on--to-morrow--when Mikolai had come home--then--then he would burn them. They +would be well hidden here in the little drawer where he kept his most important +papers, his deeds of mortgage from Posen and other securities, the testimonial +he had received on leaving the Agricultural College, his first wife's "In +Memoriam" card, and his second wife's marriage certificate. So he pushed the box +under them all, locked the drawer, tried carefully to see whether the lock were +secure, and put the key on the same bunch with the others which he always +carried in his trouser pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">There, now that was done, now he would get on with the wreath, +which was not yet up. He would also tell them to have the yard thoroughly swept, +the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 176]</span> +stables and sheds tidied up, as well as the coachhouse, thrashing-floor, and +harness-room. Everything was to be bright and clean when the young master came +home.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the man no longer felt happy. Why not? Mr. Tiralla sighed +and cast a timorous look round the room. His Sophia's black eyes, which were so +beautiful that they could steal a man's heart out of his body, could look very +terrible--ugh! very terrible. They gazed at him from every corner; their glances +seemed to pierce his body. What was it that Marianna used to say? "Let that +wicked look fall on the dog," and then she would make the sign of the cross. He +did the same now, but he felt that it was of no avail at the present moment. It +did not exorcize the restlessness that made him walk up and down the room, the +strange feeling of terror that took possession of him and seemed to encircle him +in such an incomprehensible way. What did those eyes betray? Thank God, Rosa had +not such eyes, that looked like black, poisonous berries, like the deadly +nightshade that intoxicates you and then kills you.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla stood pondering gloomily, his brows contracted. He +did not think much as a rule, but to-day he had fallen into a reverie.</p> + +<p class="normal">He could not recover his good humour, even after he had put +the last nail into the wreath with Rosa, and when she went to a sewing class in +the village--she no longer went to school--he felt quite forlorn. Nothing was to +be seen of Mrs. Tiralla; nobody knew what had become of her. So he sat down in +the kitchen with the maid--he could not stand being alone--and told her to fetch +him something to drink.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had not got the key of the wine cellar, as the Pani kept +it, and there was no wine out. But Mr. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 177]</span> +Tiralla put his back firmly against the lattice door. It yielded to his strength +and flew open, and in the future it was to remain so.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna triumphantly dragged one bottle after the other +upstairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was not yet ten o'clock in the morning when Mr. Tiralla had +finished the first bottle of Tokay. But even that did not improve his temper. By +eleven o'clock the second bottle had been emptied; but his temper was no better, +his head was only heavier. It would have to be gin if he wanted to be in a good +humour--real Geneva, which looked as clear as water in the glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they sat down to dinner Mr. Tiralla ate nothing, his +appetite had vanished, but he told them to bring him some beer. Rosa did not eat +anything either, she was too happy to eat. She jumped up every moment from her +chair to see what time it was. Was it not yet time to fetch her dear brother?</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla also came to dinner, but only for a moment. Her +eyes were very red, like those of a person who has wept very much, or who feels +worn-out. She said she had a great deal to do still, and had no time whatever +for dinner, and ran into the kitchen again almost immediately, where she began +to mix flour and lard, break eggs, grate sugar, pound spices, and stone raisins. +She intended welcoming her son with a fresh cake, warm from the oven, his +favourite cake. That touched Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he got into the carriage with Rosa--she jumped up like a +bird, but he found difficulty in getting to his seat--his face looked brighter. +His lip, which was blue and swollen, no longer drooped so much that it almost +touched his chin.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa had swung herself on to the front seat next to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 178]</span> +her father, and now and then she would take hold of his arm and press it, or +poll his ear or stroke his fat, bristly cheek, so that he could not drive. But +even if she had not played all these pranks in her great happiness his driving +would not have been up to much, for he began to feel the effects of the wine and +beer on an empty stomach. He would have liked to sleep; his head fell first to +the one side and then to the other, and his eye was no longer steady. He, who +generally drove as straight as anybody, could not keep a bee-line to-day.</p> + +<p class="normal">Röschen chattered incessantly, even when her father did not +answer her. She spoke to the wind, as though it could understand her, and only +fanned her so merrily because it was just as happy as she.</p> + +<p class="normal">The white gossamer threads blew over the big plain, where the +fields full of stubble were already being prepared again for the new seed, and +hung around the young girl's face. Rosa had put her prettiest dress on, a light +blue summer dress. It suited her well, and she did not feel at all cold to-day, +although she was very chilly as a rule. Her thin blood coursed warmly through +her veins and painted roses on her cheeks, that were usually so pale. How happy +she was!</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mikolai, Mikolai," she sang to the wind. What did he look +like? Handsome and smart, of course, much handsomer and smarter than she +remembered him. Her eyes gleamed, her lips burned; she would give him a hearty +kiss, many, many hearty kisses. It was nice to be able to kiss somebody whom you +were very fond of.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna had washed her head the night before with soft soap, +and rubbed pomade well into the hair, so that it should shine brightly and be +smooth when Mikolai came. As Rosa did not wish to be outdone by +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 179]</span> +her, she had put her head into a basin of water. But she could not make up her +mind to use the greasy pomade, so her dry hair--brittle like that of all anćmic +people--was twice as dry as usual, and stood out like a reddish, curly mane +round her head. Her blue ribbon could hardly keep the plait together, and the +dry, curly mass emitted hundreds of sparks as soon as a sunbeam fell on it.</p> + +<p class="normal">As they drove through Starawieś they saw Mr. Böhnke coming out +of the rectory. They were stopping for a moment at the inn, as Mr. Tiralla felt +so chilly that he wanted a glass of gin. They called to him, that is, Mr. +Tiralla shouted with a loud voice, "Little Böhnke, heigh, little Böhnke. <i>Psia +krew!</i> +where are your ears?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster gave a start. He hesitated for a moment; +there was the corner, should he not get out of the way quickly, as though he had +not heard the call? However, he crossed the street.</p> + +<p class="normal">There sat Mr. Tiralla in the carriage, fat and red as usual, +and there was nothing in his face, neither pallor nor lines of suffering round +his mouth, to betray that he had eaten mushrooms, poisonous mushrooms. Or had +she not given him any? If only she had not--oh, if only she had not!</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke came slowly across the broad village street, as though +something were holding him back. He had a shrinking feeling when he looked at +Mr. Tiralla. The man had received him hospitably, had been delighted to see him, +had put food and drink before him, and he had---- No, he was a rough customer, a +hog, a bully, quite a vulgar fellow, for whom he had no pity. Had she not set +the mushrooms before him? She intended doing so.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke had not heard anything of Mrs. Tiralla for +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 180]</span> +a long time, as Rosa no longer came to school. He could have gone to Starydwór, +as he had so often done before, but he had not ventured to do so. She would be +sure to give him a sign. However, she had not given him one, and in spite of his +great longing to see her, he was glad she had not. He did not want again to see +Mr. Tiralla alive.</p> + +<p class="normal">But there he was, sitting in his carriage in high spirits, +tipping his glass up and laughing to him. Had he the constitution of a giant, or +had nothing happened? The schoolmaster stood in front of the carriage with +downcast eyes, full of uncertainty and embarrassment.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why haven't you been to see us, little Böhnke?" asked Mr. +Tiralla upbraidingly. "It's wrong of you; I've had to sit a great deal alone and +drink." He gave a loud laugh, but then he added in a gentle voice, "If my +Röschen hadn't been there. I suppose, little Böhnke"--he bent down from the box, +gave the other man a dig in the ribs, and whispered with a grin--"I suppose +there's a woman behind it in your case as well, eh?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster recoiled; he felt disgusted. Mr. Tiralla's +breath smelt of nothing but gin and alcohol. "Oh, I'll come," he answered +coldly, and was about to turn away.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla did not let him off so easily. "We're driving +to Gradewitz, will you come with us? We're going to fetch my son from the +station; he's coming home. He's bringing somebody with him, a nice young fellow. +Get up, little Böhnke, get up. This'll be jolly."</p> + +<p class="normal">But the schoolmaster refused with thanks. He had something to +do, he would have to stop at home, he could not get away--no, on no account.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 181]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">However, when he had seen the carriage drive down the village +street as quickly as the uneven road and deep ruts permitted, he turned into the +fields and walked towards Starydwór instead of going home. She was now alone. It +would be a long time before they came back; he would be able to question her +without being disturbed, talk to her and hear why her husband had not had any +mushrooms. He ran as fast as he could.</p> + +<p class="normal">His coat-tails flapped in the wind like raven's wings. A +sudden jealousy gripped him; Mr. Tiralla had spoken of a nice young fellow. And +Mikolai was also a young fellow. Two young fellows, and with her day and night +under the same roof. Stepmother? Pooh! She was still young and so beautiful.</p> + +<p class="normal">His eyes wandered about restlessly; there was nothing to be +seen but a desolate field over which black birds were flying, but in his mind's +eye he already saw her. How she smiled! Always beautiful, either merry or sad; +always seductive, either good or bad. The same fever was raging within him that +had always driven him along this road. He ran until he was breathless; every +minute longer that he could be with her before the others returned seemed of the +utmost importance. He had hardly any breath left when he reached the farm, and +he rushed into the room without knocking. There she stood, she for whom he was +longing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Hardly had Mr. Tiralla driven away with Rosa than Mrs. Tiralla +left the maid to bake the cakes alone. There was no need to keep up appearances +any longer. What did she care about the stepson who was coming home to-day? She +had never liked nor disliked him; still, she felt that he played a more +important part in her life now. She must, she would please him. He must like her +so well that he would +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 182]</span> +turn and listen to her rather than to his father. She must win his ear and his +eyes, and thereby his heart. She, therefore, went up to her room, combed her +beautiful thick hair, so that it looked silkier than ever, and put on a pretty +dress; not too grand a one, but still, not her everyday one. If he had eyes, he +must be able to see that she had put on her Sunday dress for his sake. She +rubbed her cheeks; did they still look pale? She endeavoured to put on a +pleasant smile; did she look beautiful now, as beautiful as formerly? She +examined herself attentively in the glass upstairs in her bedroom, and then +downstairs in the big room; she was wrapped up in her own thoughts.</p> + +<p class="normal">Thus Böhnke found her.</p> + +<p class="normal">His noisy entrance had startled her, and she flew at him. +Böhnke--what did he want? Why did he come to-day and disturb her?</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you've really shown yourself again?" she said. "Why have +you come to-day? What do you want?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Tiralla--was in the carriage--I met him," he said with +difficulty. He stood before her with bent head, as though he were a miserable +sinner.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was half beside herself with anger when she saw him +standing like that. Such a wretched coward, and a liar to boot. "Why have you +deceived me?" she cried furiously.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I've never deceived you." He understood at once to what +she was referring. So that was why she was so angry with him. He raised two +fingers as though he were taking an oath, and said eagerly, "By God, I've not +deceived you. If you had the right mushrooms, then"--he shrugged his +shoulders--"then I don't understand it. I'm blameless."</p> + +<p class="normal">"They were the right ones," she answered tersely. "He ate +them."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 183]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Ate them? Ate them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ate them all."</p> + +<p class="normal">He stared at her as though he could not comprehend it. "And +he--he is--well?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's well."</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster put his hand to his head. He could hardly +credit that anybody could have eaten those mushrooms--the devil's toadstool and +the fly agaric--and remain alive and well. There was something wrong about it. +Or there had been some mistake. But <i>he</i> had made no mistake--no, most +certainly not, he protested, grasping her hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was as though a stream of longing and love, of despairing, +impotent, all-yielding, all forgetting passion were flowing from him to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she remained cool. "My stepson is coming to-day," she +remarked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he burst into tears, and falling on his knees before her +he pressed her hands, which she had to give up to him, against his face, and +kissed them as though he were mad. It was so long since he had enjoyed the sight +of her. But now her nearness overpowered him entirely, and he had no longer the +strength to struggle against anything. He stammered words full of frantic, +jealous passion and sobbed.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let my hands go," she said impatiently, endeavouring to free +them. "Let them go, I tell you. How can you kiss these hands"--she laughed +strangely--"hands that wanted to give Mr. Tiralla rat poison this morning. If +the poultry had died from eating the corn this morning, he would by now have +lain dead from taking the same poison."</p> + +<p class="normal">He was not listening to what she was saying. Let her accuse +herself, let others accuse her, she was still his sun, his heaven, his highest +aim. And he would +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 184]</span> +never, never, never leave her in the lurch. If she wished it, he would swear it +by all the saints. If only she had asked his advice about this too. The poultry +had not died from eating the poisoned wheat she had scattered, because--he had +once read it somewhere--because strychnine, that fearful poison which kills rats +at once, does not harm chickens.</p> + +<p class="normal">"And human beings?" she interrupted him passionately. She +seized hold of the man's shoulders as he knelt before her and stared at his +face, which he had raised to hers with a look full of fervour. "What about human +beings?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Human beings die of it."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she let go of his shoulders and with a loud cry put her +hands before her face and ran frantically up and down the room like an +imprisoned, impotent animal, that would like to dash through the walls.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man stared at her in astonishment; why was she so beside +herself? She knew that rat poison also killed human beings?</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not answer him. But when he put his arms round her she +feebly let her head sink on his shoulder. But only for a few moments, and when +he wanted to kiss her she pushed him away. "Go, go--come soon again--but go now. +What do I look like?" She smoothed her hair with her hands. "I mustn't look like +that--the others can soon be here--go, go." She pushed him to the door almost by +force.</p> + +<p class="normal">He would not have minded, he would have stopped even if the +others had come--what did he care for other people and their thoughts? What did +it matter that he had told Mr. Tiralla he had something to do and would have to +stop at home?</p> + +<p class="normal">But she begged him pathetically, "Go, for my sake. If you love +me, go."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 185]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">So he crept out of the room. But when he came to the front +door, over which Rosa's pretty green wreath was hanging, he stood still once +more. There was nobody to disturb them, not a human being in sight. He besought +her hesitatingly not to send him away without at least one kiss.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she gave him one.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was high time the schoolmaster went, for hardly had Mrs. +Tiralla cooled her cheeks with water and smoothed her hair once more when the +carriage drove into the yard with cracking of whips, rattling of wheels, and +much hallooing.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai was standing erect in front--or was it not Mikolai who +was driving so smartly, and who now drew up before the front door, whilst the +horses were going at full trot, and jumped off? No, it was not Mikolai, for he +was sitting behind with his father, and had his little sister between his knees. +But now he also jumped down, went up to his stepmother, who was standing in the +doorway, and held out his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">She kissed him on both cheeks and smiled at him. He also +smiled, and she felt that the reception had pleased him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Here we are," shouted Mr. Tiralla. "Mikolai, my son, help me +down from this confounded conveyance." They all helped him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, mummy, how dreadful!" whispered Rosa to her mother as she +clung to her. "I believe daddy has been drinking too much. He stopped +everywhere."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That doesn't matter," answered Mrs. Tiralla, pushing her +daughter aside. Then she bade her son's friend, Martin Becker, who had driven so +smartly, a smiling welcome.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had indeed overdone it. He felt very unwell. As +they all sat drinking coffee round the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 186]</span> +festive-looking table, on which a coloured cloth had been spread, he looked at +them with doll eyes. "So now we're all together again." Then he nodded to his +son and got up. "I'll lie down a little on my bed. Send Marianna to help me. <i> +Psia krew!</i>" He yawned, and staggered to the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">His son jumped up and wanted to help him, but he sent him +back. "No, it's not necessary, go back." And then he added in a furtive whisper, +and it seemed as though there were a note of fear in his voice, "Go and talk to +her, you must talk to her."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Father has drunk a little too much," said the man, with a +laugh, as he sat down at the table again. How good the coffee tasted; it had +neither been so strong nor so pure in the army. And the cakes had turned out a +great success. He nodded brightly to his stepmother, as she sat opposite him and +his friend. He felt something like gratitude rising in his heart; it was really +very nice of her to bake his favourite cakes, and to receive Martin into the +house. She was gazing at his friend the whole time. Heigh, was she not going to +cast a glance at him too? He cleared his throat and tried to attract her +attention by looking her up and down in the same way the soldiers used to look +at the girls as they strolled past them, arm-in-arm. She was certainly a +good-looking woman, even if she were his stepmother.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she paid no attention to her stepson, and when he at last +addressed some indifferent question to her, she started, turned crimson, and +then smiled absentmindedly. Where were her thoughts? Perhaps she felt +disheartened because his father was drunk. It could certainly not be very +agreeable for a wife. When Mikolai came to think of it, he did not take it amiss +that she seemed to have neither eyes nor ears for +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 187]</span> +anything. But if she did not want to talk, and only sat with her eyes fixed on +vacancy, stirring her coffee without drinking it, he would talk to his little +sister. Let Röschen come with him and show him the cattle in the sheds. Had the +old sow, which he had purchased from Jokisch, farrowed? And how many cows were +there now?</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa was in a state of bliss at the thought of having her +brother all to herself. She would show him everything, and she had so much to +tell him. There was a foal, too, in the enclosure, such a pretty one. It was the +brown mare's child, and was as brown as its mother, but it had a white star on +its forehead like Mr. Jokisch's horse. She put her hand into her brother's and +drew him tenderly out of the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker and Mrs. Tiralla remained alone in the room. +Martin would have liked to go out with them and look at the cattle--he took +great interest in such things--but he had remained behind on account of shyness. +The girl had not invited him, and the woman's eyes fixed him to the spot. He was +not shy as a rule; anywhere else he would have said, "I want to go to the +stables too." But he did not feel at home here. Why did Mikolai's stepmother +look at him so penetratingly? Was she not pleased that he had come? He dared not +look up, he felt her eyes resting on him the whole time. He felt hot and cold in +turns. What black eyes the woman had. How stupid that the old man should get +drunk now. He simply longed for Mr. Tiralla; he was quite different, he had +welcomed him with such a loud laugh and given him a resounding kiss on both +cheeks, just as he had done to his son.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man shuffled his feet restlessly. If it did not suit the +woman that he had come with Mikolai, then +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 188]</span> +he could pack up his belongings and be off again, rather to-day than to-morrow. +He felt uncomfortable. If only she would talk; but she never opened her mouth +except to say, "Finish what you've got in your cup." So he finished his coffee +and let her pour out some more, and when he had finished that he let her fill +the cup again. He was trying to make up his mind to get up, make her a bow, and +go after Mikolai, whom that nice girl was showing about.</p> + +<p class="normal">The daylight began to wane. The big, low room was only lighted +by two small windows, and in the twilight that filled the room he saw--now that +he had made up his mind to rise--that the white face opposite him was smiling. +He felt quite embarrassed; was that meant for him? Yes, certainly, she was +smiling at him in a friendly way--at least, her mouth was smiling, but her eyes +still retained their strange, fixed look. Was the woman sad? It seemed so. True, +Mr. Tiralla was no longer a young husband, and he was not a handsome one, but +had not the woman a daughter who was so tall and so nearly grown-up that she +could soon be a grandmother?</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa had pleased the young man. When the girl had returned +Mikolai's kiss at the station, shyly and reservedly, but still warmly and +heartily, he had almost envied his friend. It must be nice to have a sister like +that, and--and to teach such a young girl how to kiss. Where would the two be +now? In the cowshed? Or in the enclosure, where the mare was grazing with the +foal that Rosa had spoken about? How prettily the little one had spoken about +the mare and her child; it had sounded very sweet. Becker sighed involuntarily; +oh, what a bore it was to have to sit here in this room, whilst those two were +enjoying themselves outside.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Why are you sighing?" inquired the woman at that moment. Her +voice sounded soft and veiled in the twilight. The tone frightened him. "What +are you thinking of? Don't you like being here?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He grew still more frightened. Did she know what he had been +thinking of? The woman was a witch who could look at you inside and out. He grew +red and then vexed; what was it to her what he was thinking of? Well, as she +already knew it, yes, he wanted to go away. But he said nothing of that to her, +he stammered something, hesitated, and grew quite confused. By gad! how +beautiful the woman was!</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla bent a little forward over the table, so that her +face was nearer to him. In spite of the increasing obscurity the young man saw +her eyes gleam. Her voice sounded very ingratiating as she said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm so pleased that you've both come, you and Mikolai. Mr. +Tiralla is old. Now there are some young people in the house." She gave a slight +sigh. "And he has got into the way of drinking, I'm sorry to say. It's so lonely +for Rosa and me. Such a young girl wants a change too."</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, certainly. The young man understood that perfectly, he +agreed with her mother that it could not be very amusing for a young girl there. +Conquering his shyness, he asked if Miss Rosa had no friends whatever in the +neighbourhood, and if she did not take part in any of the amusements in +Gradewitz, or whatever the nearest town was called.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What are you thinking of?" Mrs. Tiralla gave a soft little +laugh. "Rosa isn't fifteen yet, she's still a child. Don't say 'Miss,' Mr. +Becker. Besides"--she sighed again and became very serious--"my daughter will +never care for what you, what people call +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 190]</span> +amusements. Rosa has chosen another path for herself; she's going to the Grey +Sisters, or to the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, who have that large hospital on +the Wilda in Posen."</p> + +<p class="normal">"To the Ladies of the Sacred Heart in Posen?" The young fellow +looked quite horrified. Was it possible that that little thing with her curly +hair and bright face wanted to be a nun? To be pious was all well and +good--Martin liked to go to Mass every Sunday, and regularly went to confession +as an orthodox Christian is expected to do--but in a convent! ugh! He shuddered. +"<i>Psia krew!</i>" he burst out, "such a young girl doesn't know what she's +doing. You shouldn't let her, Mrs. Tiralla," he said, almost upbraidingly. Why +did the beautiful woman blink at him so with her black eyes? And she was going +to put her young daughter into a convent? He would tell Mikolai, he ought +certainly not to allow it. He struck the table a slight blow with his clenched +fist that was so full of nervous strength. "That would almost be like murder," +he said vehemently, and then added, quite shaken, "Foolish little girl, foolish +little girl."</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman answered nothing. Not a sound was heard in the +darkening room during the next few minutes. She sat blinking at the man with her +burning eyes. What did he think of her? Did he perhaps believe that she had +persuaded the girl to become a nun? Oh, no; he must not believe that. She felt +called upon to convince him that she had had nothing whatever to do with Rosa's +decision. Had she ever persuaded the child to go into a convent? No, she could +not remember having done so--no, certainly not, she had never done such a thing. +She was quite innocent of it. But at the same moment her blood rose. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 191]</span> +Why did the young fellow trouble himself so much about Rosa? Why did he take +such an interest in her? She was about to fire up--ah, now he was even +reproaching her for it in words.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Others who are older should be wiser," said Becker.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she controlled herself; she must not be angry, it was +better to win him with kindness. So she said in a low, dreamy whisper, as though +she were speaking to herself:</p> + +<p class="normal">"I was still a child when I wanted to go into a convent. I was +forced to marry Mr. Tiralla. Oh!" She raised her hands with a deep sigh, and +clasped them together and pressed them to her pale cheek as though in pain. +"I've been married almost sixteen years, sixteen long years, and I still long +for the convent. If I might be within those sacred walls, I should be hidden and +happy. How can I oppose my daughter if she doesn't wish to become as unhappy as +her mother? I can't help it, it's not my fault. You must blame Mr. Tiralla; my +child has seen too much." She wiped a few tears away and then held her hand +before her eyes, but she was watching the young man through her fingers. Would +her fate excite his pity? It made her weep herself when she described it. She +longed for his sympathy; she did not know why she especially wanted his +sympathy, she merely felt in a dull kind of way that this man must take a much, +much greater interest in her than in Rosa.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Martin Becker answered calmly, "If the Pani has not been +happy in her marriage that is no reason why her daughter should not be. She has +a gentle disposition, she seems to be very pliable. My father--God give him +everlasting peace--always used to say to me, 'Take a gentle wife.' My opinion is +that a gentle wife will always have a good husband, because----"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">He stopped. Mrs. Tiralla had suddenly jumped up; what a +namby-pamby the fellow was, to be sure, in spite of his eyes that were shining +with mirth and his fresh lips under his small black moustache, and his +four-and-twenty years. His way of speaking angered her. He spoke like an old man +with the mouth of a youth. Her fingers twitched, she felt so irritated she would +have liked to have given him a blow on those fresh lips. What did he know of +marriage, or what it was like to have a coarse, hateful, rough, vulgar, ugly old +drunkard as your husband? She was raging. She felt she must convince this man, +just this man, that it was terrible, and then----</p> + +<p class="normal">She closed her eyes for a moment as though she felt dizzy.</p> + +<p class="normal">An intense joy took possession of her. She was still "the +beautiful Mrs. Tiralla." Whatever he might think at the present moment, he would +learn to think differently. Her irritation disappeared, and she begged him in a +voice that was almost humble not to be surprised that she had poured her heart +out to him. She was surprised at it herself, but it must have been because she +had lived such an isolated life for so long, and had had to be silent for so +many, many years.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he grew milder too; he was never angry long. The woman +certainly had a very touching voice. He also felt flattered that she had shown +him such confidence. But he was not able to tell her so, as his former shyness +had returned as soon as his anger disappeared. He let her carry on the +conversation, whilst he sat silent in the dark room, and as he listened to her +he thought how sweetly she was speaking.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were still sitting thus when the maid burst into the room +with the lamp. She started back, half terrified, half bewildered. Had the Pani +been sitting +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 193]</span> +the whole time alone with him in the twilight? H'm! Her eyes flashed, and she +could not resist winking at her mistress as much as to say, Do you care for him? +She could well understand that the Pani preferred this one to Mr. Tiralla, or to +pale, lean Pan Böhnke. The schoolmaster would turn green with envy when he saw +this strong, handsome fellow. What a capital joke it would be when those two +met.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna could scarcely restrain her chuckling. She was +pleased to think that Böhnke was to have this vexation, for was he treating the +master as he should? No, he did not wish him well, she felt that. The woman was +the Pani, she could do what she liked; but strangers were not to hurt her +master, she would not stand that. The maid grinned like a gnome; it served the +schoolmaster right. If the Pani had chosen this man, then she, Marianna, would +take Mr. Mikolai; he was not at all bad. He was certainly not so well-built as +this one, he was a little more thick-set, but he too had a nice face with a +little moustache; and when she came to think of it, he was even kinder. He had +clapped her on her neck when he had come into the cow-shed with Rosa, where she +was just milking a cow. And he had said "Good evening" to her, and had asked her +with a merry laugh, "Who's your sweetheart, my girl?" Then she had had to laugh +too, laugh so that the cow had grown restive and had knocked the pail, which she +was holding between her knees, with its hind legs, so that the milk had been +upset, the stool had fallen, and she with it.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 194]</span></p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was kneeling in the confessional.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the turn came for the sins against the sixth and ninth +commandments, she trembled in all her limbs. How quickly and easily she had +hitherto been able to answer in the negative when the question, "Have you had +any unclean thoughts or desires?" had been put to her. But what was she to say +now? How Father Szypulski, who knew her so well and whom she would probably meet +again to-morrow or the day after, would stare at her when she confessed to him +what had tortured her day and night for weeks and months, ever since Martin +Becker had been at Starydwór. Especially at night when she tossed about so +restlessly. If she were to whisper in a trembling voice that she longed for this +man as she longed for her eternal salvation? And if the priest then questioned +her further, if he went into particulars? If she had to describe every thought, +every wish that filled her soul and her body, reveal them in such a way that her +penitent confession might be followed by absolution in the Sacrament of Penance?</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt overwhelmed with shame; she bent her head so low and +whispered so softly that the confessor was not able to hear anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Father Szypulski did not ask any questions; it was not +necessary to go any further into the matter +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 195]</span> +with this woman. Every country girl under sixteen had more to confess than she.</p> + +<p class="normal">After resigning her seat in the confessional to a young +peasant woman who looked contrite and anxious, Mrs. Tiralla repeated the +prescribed prayers before the high altar, and then hastened home.</p> + +<p class="normal">She hurried along as much as possible; she had even hurried +over her prayers. What had they been doing at home during her absence? Was he +sitting with Rosa again? It was not at all proper, the child was too old for +that. Yes, the time was approaching when she would have to be taken to Posen, +for it was better for her that she should not become acquainted with what could +never be her lot--must never be her lot--never, never.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman's eyes blazed as she hurried along. She pressed her +Prayer-book to her beating heart, and threw her head back with a proud movement. +She had been to confession, and she, the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla, was now +returning home with her sins forgiven.</p> + +<p class="normal">As she approached the farm she met the schoolmaster coming +away from it. She gave him a nod and wanted to hurry past him. Her uneasiness +drove her on--what were they doing at home; what were they up to? But he barred +her way, so that she was obliged to stop.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ah, Böhnke, I've no time now, I'm in a great hurry. Good-bye, +let me go--let me go, I say." With a stamp of her foot she pulled away the hand +which he had seized.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she did not get rid of him so easily. "One moment. Surely +you've got a moment to spare for me?"</p> + +<p class="normal">As she did not listen, but continued to hasten on, he ran +beside her. How troublesome he was, if only +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 196]</span> +she could get rid of him. What did he want with her? Why did he force himself +upon her in this way? Heaven forfend that he should return to the farm with her. +She was furious; the spring evening was already drawing to a close, Martin would +have returned from the fields, and now he belonged to her. And this fellow took +upon himself to hinder her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've not seen you for ages," stammered Böhnke. "It's so +difficult to catch a glimpse of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's your fault, Mr. Böhnke," she answered lightly, and +shrugged her shoulders. "You could have come more frequently, you know."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You used to invite me formerly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, I do invite you." She gave a mocking laugh. "Do you, +perhaps, expect me to write you a note every day saying, 'Come'? Come, for +goodness sake. You can come whenever you feel inclined."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't feel inclined," he answered bitterly. "How could I +feel any inclination to come to Starydwór? But something drags me there all the +same. I <i>must</i> come, and that's what is so awful, so awful!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He shouted the last word in a loud voice, and his eyes, that +were generally so dull, glittered as he looked at her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah, so now he was going to reproach her. She slackened her +pace involuntarily; there was no necessity for anybody else to hear it. But if +he thought that she feared him--pooh! he made a great mistake. What on earth +could frighten her now? Nothing whatever, and nobody, if only she could see +Martin every day.</p> + +<p class="normal">She boldly returned the man's upbraiding look, and they gazed +at each other, until Böhnke had to cast down his eyes. He knew what kind of +woman she was; oh, she was much more guilty than he, for he was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 197]</span> +only the one who had been tempted, but she was the temptress. What if he were to +tell what he knew? She was entirely in his power. And still he lowered his eyes. +He loved her, oh God, how he loved her!</p> + +<p class="normal">He trembled at the thought that she might belong to somebody +else, to that other one perhaps, who was so young and handsome and strong, and +who had lived under the same roof with her since last autumn, during the whole +winter, the short days, the long nights. What was it Mr. Tiralla had told him? +Even he was full of Martin Becker's praises when they sat together in the +evening at the inn. Mr. Tiralla had lately come more frequently to Starawieś; he +said he felt ashamed of getting drunk in his own house. The truth was, +however--the schoolmaster felt sure he was right--that he also was jealous of +the young fellow, and that he did not like to see his wife smile at Becker any +more than he, Böhnke, did. But she should not smile at him, no, she must not do +so. And if Mr. Tiralla did not forbid it, then he--yes, he would do so.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're good friends with Becker," he hissed, and he seized +the woman's wrists so firmly, in spite of his trembling hands, that she could +not get loose.</p> + +<p class="normal">She struggled, she would have liked to run away; no, she would +hear nothing, nothing at all.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he whispered in her ear in a hoarse voice that was half +choked with grief and fury, "You're deceiving Mr. Tiralla and me. But if that +fool stands it, I won't. Take care. I know everything--I know you well--I will +speak--yes, yes, by God I will if you don't----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"You're threatening me?" she cried, interrupting him with a +shrill laugh. She jerked her hand free and flung his away. "You don't intimidate +me. Go, inform against me, I'm not afraid. I"--she spread out her arms and an +enthusiastic expression transfigured +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 198]</span> +her face--"I should love to suffer. Jesus Christ also suffered on the cross. It +would be no suffering for me, it would be a joy." Humbly bending her head she +made the sign of the cross.</p> + +<p class="normal">What did she mean? Why did she say that with such fervour? +Böhnke did not understand her to-day, although he had hitherto understood her so +well. He did not guess that she was seized with an ardent desire to suffer for +her love, if necessary.</p> + +<p class="normal">What could affect her if she only had Martin, only him? And he +would soon be hers, she felt it. The woman looked down on the man from a +triumphant height.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke eyed her in perplexity. He tried to endure her gaze, +but he felt so confused that he once more had to lower his eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">What a poor wretch he was, a real coward. Her voice was full +of deep contempt as she said icily, "Let me go on now, Mr. Böhnke."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no," he cried, seizing hold of her dress. No, she must +not leave him in anger. He would--he did--recall everything; he had said +nothing, he knew nothing, guessed nothing. Only she must not look at him like +that, he could not bear it, it broke his heart. He almost whined as he implored +her pardon; surely she must know that he was mad, irresponsible, that it made +him furious to know that she was always with the other man, whilst he, alas, had +to remain so far away from her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"You needn't stay away, Mr. Böhnke."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I can't bear to see you with the other man," he cried. +"Can't you understand?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, she understood very well. She almost felt sorry for him +now. Jealousy is a terrible torment. Would Martin have returned from the fields +by now? +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 199]</span> +Would he be sitting with Rosa, or perhaps standing about with Marianna? She grew +hot and cold by turns. Both things were dreadful, she could not permit either of +them. She, who a moment ago had been so triumphant, felt disheartened and cast +down with fear and torment and uncertainty. Oh, this uncertainty was something +dreadful; did he not care for her a thousand times more than for that little +girl? Yes, it must be true, Böhnke must be suffering too.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her glance was full of compassion as she looked at him. How he +shuffled along; he looked like an old man, and he was so pale and emaciated, +there seemed to be no youth left in him. She laid her hand on his sleeve. +"Surely we are not going to be enemies, Böhnke?" she said gently.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, certainly not," he jerked out. He bent his head, and, +hastily pressing his dry lips to the beautiful, white hand which formed such a +contrast to the dark sleeve on which it was resting, said:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Forgive me, for God's sake, forgive me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I forgive you," she answered. She stooped and picked up his +hat which had fallen off his head without his noticing it. "Here, put it on."</p> + +<p class="normal">And then she held out her hand, and allowed him to grasp both +her wrists and stand thus for a few moments taking leave of her.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt a little calmer now; she was not angry with him, thank +God, not angry. He stood a long time after she had left him, following her with +his eyes. How daintily she tripped along in spite of her haste. Her dress did +not knock against her like a heavy sail against a clumsy mast, but the wind +played with it wantonly, so that you could see her ankles, her striped +stockings, and smart white petticoat even at a distance. Böhnke felt his heart +stand still with delight. There +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 200]</span> +she went to meet somebody else, leaving him behind; but his thoughts hurried +after her all the same and clung to her like a chain. She would never be able to +get rid of him entirely. And even though she might curse the chain, it would +always clatter behind her and warn her that he and she--yes, that they were +forged together for time and eternity. That consoled him. And a hope arose +within him that the chain might become still stronger and tighter. Then might +the angels hide their faces and weep when God cursed them--if only he and she +might go to hell together.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla rejoiced to think that she had so easily got rid +of the schoolmaster. It would have been so tiresome if he had returned with her. +She ran through the gate with a light heart.</p> + +<p class="normal">The stillness of evening lay over the farm. The pigeons that +had their cot on the high pole near the pond were already sitting huddled +together on the perch in front of their door, cooing softly. How tender it +sounded; it seemed to Mrs. Tiralla as though it had never sounded so tender +before. And the cock was strutting about among his hens; the woman thought she +could see that he particularly wished to please the white hen. A couple of early +white butterflies, the first heralds of approaching spring, were fluttering +about, exhausted by their amorous dalliance. Mother stork was standing on her +nest on the old barn; the couple had returned the day before in renewed love to +the home they had left last autumn. Marianna was crouching on the doorstep +peeling potatoes for supper, and quite close to her stood Mikolai with his back +against the wall and his hands in his trouser pockets, looking down with a smile +at the girl's firm brown neck that showed above her white frill.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">How beautiful everything was! Mrs. Tiralla closed her eyes as +though dazzled, then opened them wide with a dreamy expression and gave a deep +sigh full of longing. Everything spoke of love. What did it matter if the +butterflies were dead by to-morrow morning, if they were found lying on the +ground like small, withered leaves, killed by the night that was still so raw? +Had they not spent a merry hour, disporting themselves at love's fair game? She +looked round; where was Martin Becker? Had he not returned from the fields with +Mikolai?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heigh!" Her voice sounded shrill as she called to her +stepson. "Where are the others? Your friend and Rosa?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know," answered the young man in a calm voice, and +went on philandering with the maid, in spite of his stepmother's arrival. He had +got hold of a long straw, with which he was tickling her neck, and which he +quickly hid behind his back whenever she let the potato-knife fall and +laughingly tried to seize it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Where could Martin and Rosa be? They were not in the room +downstairs, for she had looked in at the low window. She gazed around with +burning, impatient eyes; where had they hidden themselves? All at once she felt +disgusted with the two flirting on the doorstep. Were they not ashamed of +themselves? She tore the straw angrily out of her stepson's hand and pulled it +to pieces. "Stop that nonsense," she said sharply, frowning. "Go in, Marianna, <i> +dalej</i>, don't lounge there any longer. When Mr. Tiralla comes home we are to +have supper, <i>dalej</i>."</p> + +<p class="normal">Disturbed in her amusement, the maid, who was still quite hot +from laughing, murmured sullenly, "The master hasn't been out at all; he's in +the house. That +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 202]</span> +man was here"--she turned up her nose--"the schoolmaster from Starawieś. I had +to bring some bottles up from the cellar, and they've been drinking beer and +gin. Now the master has gone to bed and is asleep." She shrugged her shoulders +and shook her head as she tripped away.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Father drinks," said Mikolai, his laughing face all at once +overcast. "He never drank before, why does he do so now?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked at his stepmother inquiringly; he felt as though he +must demand an explanation of her. How could she allow him to drink so much? And +it was not only beer and wine, for a short time before, when he had gone to the +pig-market in Gnesen, he had brought gin back with him, a whole keg of clear +gin, some bad stuff made of potatoes, like that given to reapers at +harvest-time. And he drank it off as if it were small beer. "Tell me how it is +that father has so changed," he continued, in a voice that sounded quite rough. +"He used to be so lively formerly. He has always been fond of a drink--who +wouldn't be?--but still he never took more than he could stand. But now!" He +shook his head, and his glance seemed to Mrs. Tiralla to have suddenly grown +suspicious. "I don't know how it's happened."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know either," said she, as she cast her eyes around. +Where had those two crept to? They had both gone, and probably together. Nothing +else was of any consequence to her at the present moment. Let Mikolai think what +he liked, it was perfectly immaterial to her. "Where can Becker be?" she asked +impatiently.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai's thoughts were still with his father, and he kept +staring at the pavement with a heavy frown, which was not at all in keeping with +his round, innocent +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 203]</span> +face. It grieved him very much to think that his old father, of whom he was so +fond, should drink like that. It was fortunate that his mother had not lived to +see it. It seemed to be quite immaterial to his stepmother. Or was he wrong? She +was looking quite pale all at once, positively distraught. He must be wrong, she +took it, no doubt, just as much to heart as he did. He felt sorry that he had +wronged her if only in thought, and held out his hand to her with a good-natured +laugh. "Well, what do you say to breaking the old man of this bad habit in good +time? Anyhow, it won't kill him yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Anyhow, it won't kill him yet," she repeated absent-mindedly. +But she could not stand it any longer, she must know where the two were. "Where +can Rosa be? <i>Psia krew!</i>" she cried in a furious voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her stepson stared at her in amazement. How mad she was; it +amused him to see her. She had always been so very refined, but now she could +never make a wry face again when his father rapped out an oath or two. Besides, +he never meant any harm by it, but she was furious to-day--ugh! He put his arm +round her waist and said jokingly, "H'm, the Pani is in a bad temper to-day."</p> + +<p class="normal">She could not control her feelings any longer, and burst into +tears in her despair at not being able to find out where the two had gone. She +laid her head on her stepson's arm and sobbed.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai felt dismayed and then overcome; he resembled his +father in that particular, and could not bear to see a woman cry. And especially +this woman, who really was good. He had never known that his stepmother was so +tender-hearted. How she fretted about his father.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 204]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla wept a long time on his shoulder.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker remained longer in the fields than Mikolai. He +had still to sow some clover seed in a piece of fallow-land, when the latter led +the horse home with which he had been harrowing.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young sower whistled as he walked up and down the furrows. +A mild breeze was blowing across the fields which had nothing in common with the +raw March winds they had been having lately. Was spring really coming? Why, +there was Rosa!</p> + +<p class="normal">He put his hand up to his eyes that the last rays of the +setting sun should not hinder him from watching her. The farm was not far from +the field they were tilling, and the young girl had just come out of the gate +and was walking towards him without hat or shawl, her hands hanging idly by her +sides.</p> + +<p class="normal">As Rosa saw that he was smiling at her, she smiled too; her +radiant happiness made her look prettier than usual. "You must leave off working +now, Mr. Becker," she cried gaily. "I've come to fetch you. You've been so busy. +Aren't you tired?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"No." As he smiled at her he showed his strong teeth, which +looked whiter and more shining than ever under his black moustache.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jendrek has never done so much," she remarked knowingly, "and +the other labourers haven't either."</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I'm not a labourer."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I didn't mean that"--she turned crimson--"oh, no." She +held out her hand artlessly. "Please don't be angry with me. Mother has told me +that you've some money and that you really need not work here. I know it very +well."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I like working here," he said quickly. "I like it very +much"--he hesitated for a moment and cast a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 205]</span> +quick glance at the delicate face that was half averted--"very much indeed."</p> + +<p class="normal">"That's very nice of you," she said innocently, looking at him +with a friendly smile.</p> + +<p class="normal">He cast a complacent glance at her; how blooming she looked +now, much more so than when he came. She would soon be old enough to get +married. Many a wooer would come forward; her curly hair that shone like gold +was very conspicuous among all the smooth, dark-haired women of the country. She +would also have a good dowry; Mr. Tiralla had hinted at that pretty broadly. And +Mikolai was a good fellow and an affectionate brother; he would be pleased to +let his sister have her portion. And she would be a patient, good wife. Martin +felt as though he ought to make hay while the sun was shining.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll stop now," he said, suddenly making up his mind, and +throwing the last seeds he had in his bag at random; he put on his coat, which +he had hung over the plough. "Shall we go for a little walk, Miss Tiralla?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, Rosa would like that very much. Had he ever been in the +Przykop? Perhaps there would be some violets there now. But he must not say +"Miss," she was not grown up, her mother had said that repeatedly, she was only +a child.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Well, then, Rosa--Röschen, let's go." He held out his hand +and she put hers into it, and thus they strolled into the Przykop. There was not +a shoot to be seen yet on the alders or willows, or on the few oaks that were +scattered about, but the old pines were as green as ever and smelt fresh and +alive. The woodpecker was hammering at their bark, and the wood-pigeons were +cooing up in their big branches that shone so red.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 206]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Everything was very quiet in the hollow, and the air was so +mild that you could have sat down. Martin felt a wish to do so, but the girl +began to look about busily for the bushes in whose red sprigs the sap was +already coursing, and to turn the big heaps of brown leaves over with her hands +and feet. Would she not be able to find the first violet under one of them? Oh, +now she had found one! She shouted with joy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Who would have thought that this gentle girl could be so +jubilant? The young fellow was delighted to hear her, and stood quite still and +smiled down on her as she with nimble fingers stuck a violet and a leaf into the +top button-hole of his coat. He very nearly gave her a kiss--nobody was looking +on, and her shining parting was so near his mouth.</p> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="continue">"The stars are twinkling, the night is cold,<br> +Open the window for thy lover bold."</p> +</div><br> +<p class="continue">he began to sing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know that song," she said innocently.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt ashamed of continuing it. It was a song that the +soldiers used to sing, and also the couples as they walked through the corn in +the evenings, but it was not suitable for her ear.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then they strolled about hand-in-hand. How beautiful +everything was. The man had never been accustomed to forest and shade, and the +big trees in the Przykop inspired him with awe and reverence. He would never +venture to take any liberties here; besides, it would be very wrong of him if he +were to disturb this child's innocent mind.</p> + +<p class="normal">He walked beside the girl as though he had been her brother. +"Why are you so silent?" she asked. "Tell me something, but please no stories +like those Marianna tells me, something nice. Do you always +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 207]</span> +go to Mass as frequently as you do here? Shall you go to confession when I go? +Is there a nice church at Opalenitza? Have you also a Holy Virgin on the altar +who performs as many miracles as ours does?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he spoke to her of his mother. She had been a happy +woman, for she had had a good husband. And she had had many children, and they +were good and honest, and happy too. Two daughters were married, the eldest son +had the farm at Opalenitza, the second was an engineer in the Rhine province, +the third had re-enlisted with the chasseurs in Liegnitz, and he, the miller, +was the fourth and youngest. If everything went well, and he got a wife who had +enough money, with the sum he had, to buy a good mill, then he, the youngest, +would be the happiest of them all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If only my mother had lived to see it," he said softly, +looking at the girl. And then he went on to speak of his parents, who had always +been so united, who had almost died together--his father six years ago and his +mother only a few months later--and there was so much love in his voice that +Rosa began to cry. He did not understand her tears. Why was she crying? He put +his arm tenderly round her shoulders and drew her towards him in the quiet +Przykop. "Why are you crying, Röschen, my little girl?"</p> + +<p class="normal">She said nothing, but continued to cry bitterly. Oh, how happy +they had been. Husband and wife always united; many children; and almost dying +together. She shivered; that must be even more glorious than in Paradise. She +clung to him more closely in her longing and sadness.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was late when they came out of the hollow. A grey, rising +mist covered the ploughed field as they +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 208]</span> +crossed it hand-in-hand. They did not let go of each other until they passed +through the gateway leading into Starydwór.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now they were back at the farm again. Marianna was singing as +she rattled the pots and pans, Mikolai stood laughing by the kitchen fire, but +Rosa's face continued to wear a dreamy, radiant expression. Although she was +always such an obedient, conscientious child, it did not affect her in the +slightest when her brother shouted to her from the kitchen, "Your mother has +been looking for you for such a long time; she's very cross. Where have you +been?" She did not notice her mother's eyes resting on her with a piercing +expression; she did not feel the oppressive silence that reigned at supper that +evening.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla kept an obstinate silence; she seemed so +low-spirited that the men involuntarily became low-spirited, too--that is, Mr. +Tiralla and Mikolai. Becker's eyes were fixed on his plate; he was quiet and +happy, and ate with a good appetite. What did he care if the woman was in a bad +humour? Let the old man and Mikolai dance to her piping, he would not. And then +the thought came to him that a girl like Rosa would never want to order about, +and that a man would fare well with a wife like her: always united, and many +children, and, and--he did not get any further. He felt a glance resting on him +that weighed him down, so that he could no longer think of all those pleasant +things.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla kept her eyes fixed on the young man; her brows +were contracted, her lips pouting. She felt so scornful, so angry. So he +preferred that chit to her! But then her scorn melted and a world of love, +grief, longing, and even humility lay in her glance. If only he would look at +her, only for one +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 209]</span> +short moment. Ah, now he was looking up--her glance had drawn him--he had to +look at her, was obliged to.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment, when she was glowing with happiness, she +became a most dangerous temptress. A seductive smile parted her lips, her eyes +shone in radiant splendour. She had never been so beautiful, never so amiable.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even Mr. Tiralla profited by her radiant smiles; he simply +basked in them. She was looking at him so kindly; ah, there was not another +woman who could be compared with his Sophia. Her smile intoxicated him. What did +it matter that she had often been very horrid to him? Pooh! that was all +forgotten now, it was some nonsense that he must have dreamt. She had certainly +been very strange at times--h'm, very strange, but to-day she was an angel. He +even forgot to drink when he looked at her. He kissed the tips of his fingers, +threw her the kiss, and stared at her with watery eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker gazed at her too, as though there were something +quite new about her. He had never known that she was so beautiful; by Jove, +there was nobody like her. The girl certainly resembled her very little. No +wonder that everybody ran after her, as Mr. Tiralla had told him the first day +they met; he could easily believe it. He stroked his dark moustache and looked +her full in the face with his fine eyes. Then she smiled still more seductively, +and he smiled at her again. He liked her very much.</p> + +<p class="normal">As they said good night to each other her hand nestled in his; +he felt its warm softness, and pressed it more firmly than he had ever done +before. How thin Rosa's little hands were compared with hers.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 210]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was standing in her room upstairs in front of the +looking-glass, undressing. She was doing it very slowly; she felt the whole time +as though she must go downstairs once more and walk down the long passage past +the young men's door. Was he already asleep?</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai and Becker had gone early to bed, as they had to rise +with the lark next morning and go to their work. Rosa had likewise gone to her +room after supper. But Mrs. Tiralla had talked some time to Marianna in the +kitchen, whilst her husband remained sitting at the table with his head resting +in his hands, dozing. He had made no attempt to keep his wife when she left the +room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Did he know by now that he was repugnant to her? Mrs. Tiralla +almost thought he did; he often looked askance at her now, whilst his purple lip +would droop sullenly. She was glad to think it; good, let him know it; it had +taken her long enough to make him understand that she hated and despised him +too. Thanks be to God and all His saints, praise be to them a thousand times, +Mr. Tiralla had left her in peace for months, from the day his son had returned +home, the day she had failed in her attempt with the poisonous corn. The saints +had not permitted it at the time, and it was a good thing, for since he had +taken such a liking to the bottle, she had got rid of him in that way. She had +had nothing to confess to Father Szypulski.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Thanks be to the holy saints." The woman devoutly made the +sign of the cross as she stood before the glass. Then she thrust her hands +through her hair and pulled her long, thick tresses down, so that they hung +around her like a smooth, silky mantle. She shook them and drew a deep breath. +How heavy, oppressive, and disquieting the room felt.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 211]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She went to the window, opened it with an impatient movement, +and leant out as far as she could. It was like spring outside. The night was +dark and mild, there was a smell of the earth in the air and the stars were +twinkling. Just over the farm there was such a golden light, that she could see +a couple walking up and down near the pond with their arms thrown round each +other.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Marianna. But with whom? The man was tall, taller than +Mikolai. A deadly fear overpowered her; she would not stand that, she had better +run downstairs. But it was not Becker, he had not that clumsy, rolling gait, he +was much more erect. But even if it were not he, how she envied the girl down +there.</p> + +<p class="normal">She pressed both hands to her face; she would not look at +them, she would not listen to their whispers. But a shiver ran through her +similar to what she had only felt once before in her life, and of which she now +no longer knew if it had been sweet or terrible. She felt as she had done that +time in the quiet room in early, long-gone-by days, when she had lain on her +knees before her best friend and had implored, demanded his help. In those days +that shiver full of presage and bliss had almost bereft her of her senses; she +could have shouted with joy and still have died of weeping. Now, so long +afterwards, she once more felt the same kind of shiver.</p> + +<p class="normal">She turned away. She staggered from the window to the glass as +though she were about to faint, and stared into it with half-closed, swimming +eyes. The balmy air blew in through the open window and fanned her bare +shoulders, neck, and arms. It felt like a soft hand, and she held her breath as +it caressed her. She kept her eyes fixed on the glass; was she +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 212]</span> +not too old, was she really young enough? Oh, yes. She had to laugh. A voice +within her seemed to say, "You still look like a girl and you are still like a +girl." And when she came to think of it, was she Mr. Tiralla's wife in the eyes +of God? No. He had forced her, but she was not his wife in spite of that. God +alone makes husband and wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">If only he would come now, if only he were here. "Holy Mary, +all ye angels and archangels, ye fourteen helpers in need, lend me your aid."</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman stretched out her arms as though she were +intoxicated. Suddenly she thought she heard somebody coming cautiously upstairs. +The floor outside her room creaked.</p> + +<p class="normal">She rushed to the door and unbolted it with a jubilant cry +like one who has been saved. There stood Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The night grew dark, the stars hid themselves behind clouds, +as though they were afraid of looking down on Starydwór. The balmy wind, which +seemed to carry spring on its wings, had brought rain. All at once there came a +heavy shower, which turned into a slow drizzle as soon as the warm air had grown +cool, and which continued until the misty, grey dawn broke.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young men buttoned up their coats before starting for the +fields. What a change in the weather! They felt chilled to the bone. Somebody +might at least have made them a cup of hot coffee. But nobody appeared, and +there came no answer to their soft call of "Heigh, Marianna, heigh!" The whole +house was as silent as death; it was as though all life were extinct. There was +nothing for it; Mikolai had to make the fire and boil the coffee himself, or +they would +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 213]</span> +have to leave the house on that wet, sullen-looking morning without something +warm to drink.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had heard their call. She was lying on her bed +with open eyes, but was unable to rise. She felt worn-out, bruised in body and +mind; she had only sufficient strength left to bite her pillow, so as to +suppress her sobs. "Holy Mary, wert thou asleep?" Had the angels and archangels +not heard her when she called to them? He, he had come--but not the one she had +prayed for.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman clenched her fists in impotent fury, whilst her +glowing cheeks burned with shame. All the aversion, all the hatred she had ever +felt for her husband was nothing compared with this intense, blazing passion +that raged within her. How was she to avenge herself? If only she had the poison +which she, like a fool, had given back to him. Then she would have rushed +downstairs and calmly, quite calmly, poured some of the white powder into his +half-open mouth whilst he was lying in his bed snoring. It would have acted, she +felt sure of that. The saints would not let innocent animals die, but they would +look on with a smile when the devils carried Mi. Tiralla's soul off to hell.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman uttered wild curses as she reproached herself for +her stupidity. How foolish, how unutterably foolish she had been to give up +those powders that could have released her. If she had had them now, she would +have given ten years of her life, nay more, her hope of everlasting bliss. "Yes, +take it," she groaned, starting up in bed and stretching her clenched fists +towards heaven, "take it in exchange for them."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she prayed. It was a meaningless jumble of words, for she +was beside herself, but still she felt +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 214]</span> +somewhat calmed as she moved her lips and made the sign of the cross and hit her +breast. Her thoughts dwelt on the powders as she mechanically repeated the usual +prayers. Perhaps she could get them again, after all? He had put them into his +writing-desk that day, she had seen him do it. True, it was always locked, +but--"Blessed be the Holy Virgin and all the saints," she cried, drawing a +breath of relief--but the key was on the ring in his trouser pocket.</p> + +<p class="normal">She sat down on the side of the bed, and pushing her +dishevelled hair away from her distraught-looking face she groped for her +slippers. It was still early; he would still be fast asleep and Rosa and +Marianna, too, and Martin and Mikolai had already gone to the fields. There +would be nobody to frustrate her plans this time.</p> + +<p class="normal">She could not wait to dress herself properly, but throwing a +petticoat on, she thrust her bare feet into her slippers and glided downstairs. +She opened the door into Mr. Tiralla's room almost noisily; she was right, there +he lay snoring, his eyes closed, his mouth wide open. Quick, quick!</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked round the room; there stood the old bureau. But, +alas, he had got the trousers on in which he always kept the bunch of keys. He +had thrown himself on his bed half-dressed; a sock and a trouser-leg were +sticking out from under the feather bed which he had drawn around him.</p> + +<p class="normal">A feeling of intense disappointment took possession of her for +a moment. But then a look of contempt crossed her face; he was snoring, he would +not notice anything. She conquered the feeling of disgust at having to touch +him, drew the feather bed away from his massive body that lay there like a +felled log, and put her nimble fingers into his pocket. He was as +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 215]</span> +lifeless as a stone; she hardly considered it necessary to suppress a cry of joy +when she held the coveted key in her hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">She ran to the bureau and stuck it into the lock; the desk +creaked loudly as she opened it. There were the drawers. Heedless of danger she +turned her back on the bed and began to search for the powders. She opened and +closed one drawer after the other with an angry bang at not finding what she +sought. Where were they, where could they be? Stop! In this drawer, quick, what +was that that gleamed so white and new under all those papers yellow with age? +It was the box, the box! She stretched out her hand to seize it--but the hand +remained poised in mid-air.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew</i>, what are you doing there?" cried Mr. +Tiralla. He had awaked.</p> + +<p class="normal">She wheeled round and they gazed at each other with pale +faces. She stood there like a delicate, feathery leaf that a breath of wind has +caused to tremble; but he was trembling too. Neither of them was capable of +saying a word. Mr. Tiralla had not uttered a sound since his first cry; he was +like a man who is being choked, and his face grew purple as he struggled for +air. What was she doing there, what did she want, what was she looking for? Why +did she come so furtively when he was asleep? Did she want to rob him? He had +never refused her any money, it could not be that she was looking for. Perhaps +it was for the----? He grew rigid with horror, his tongue hung out of his mouth +and he gasped and gasped. "Let, let----" He could not say anything more, but +fury, fear, and the horror of it all, extorted from him an inarticulate cry like +that of an animal.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she, too, gave a shrill cry and ran out of the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 216]</span> +room with hair flying, leaving the drawers and the desk open.</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained lying on his bed as though paralyzed; only his +eyes wandered timidly from corner to corner. He was so terrified; the strong, +stout man felt all at once quite helpless. Had she gone--had she really gone? He +listened to every sound. But there was nobody creeping outside in the passage, +and everything remained perfectly quiet until Marianna's noisy tread was heard. +Then her loud singing in the kitchen and her rattling with the rings on the +stove gave him courage, and he stood up and tottered to the bureau with shaking +knees, took the box with the powders out of the drawer which she had left open, +and hid it inside his shirt. If only she did not find it--if only she did not +find it!</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he staggered to the washstand and stuck his head, which +felt dizzy, deep down into the basin. How his face smarted. He was cooling it as +the maid came in.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna clasped her hands in dismay. "What is it, Panje?" Oh, +dear, what a sight Pan Tiralla was. It was awful, his face was scratched all +over. Where had he got it? Had he fallen amongst thorns? She ran into the +kitchen lamenting and fetched a little lard to put on it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla sat as quiet as a lamb and let the servant smear +his scratches with it, but he never said a word, in spite of Marianna's +inquiries. Fallen amongst thorns, fallen amongst thorns, yes, that he had! He +continued to nod in a stupid kind of way. Then he groaned and moaned like a man +who has been heavily wounded, and laid his head on the table. It was all up, all +up. And he had believed, when she was so kind to him the night before, kinder +than she had been +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 217]</span> +for a long time--oh, what a fool he had been, what an idiot! He began to cry in +a resigned kind of way. He could not think any more; besides, he did not want to +think about it any more--what was the good? He could not alter what was coming.</p> + +<p class="normal">He sent for gin. Ah, that made him feel easier, that did him +good. He sat banging the table with his fist, and now and then he would give a +hiccoughing sob, "So-phia--So-phia!" He had always loved her so.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 218]</span></p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">If Mrs. Tiralla believed that she would have reason to fear +her husband now, she was mistaken. There was no necessity for her to steal away +so that he should not see her, for he kept out of her way as well as everybody +else's. They were all so fond of her, they hung on her words; she was a witch, +and if he were to tell what he knew about her, who knows, perhaps she might do +something worse to him? He was terrified of her in secret. When he heard her +steps he would cower involuntarily; he preferred her not to come where he +happened to be. He scarcely ate anything at meal time; even if he had been +hungry he would not have ventured to partake of anything. The drink he took +nourished him; he grew stouter and stouter, and his eyes were embedded in fat. +He would only eat what the maid brought him, but he ordered her not to say +anything to her mistress about it. "Very good, very good," she would answer, +with a nod, but when she spoke to others about her master, she would point to +her forehead and say in a sad voice, "Poor master! I think he drinks too much."</p> + +<p class="normal">Everybody said that Mr. Tiralla had become a drunkard. True, +he hardly ever came to the inn now when the gentry were there, but he would +drink in secret either at home or at the inn at a different time to the others. +He avoided his former companions; they had not seen him for weeks.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 219]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Loud were the exclamations, therefore, when they caught him +early one afternoon sitting all alone at the inn. They had made up their minds +to take him by surprise some time, and now they had found him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Psia krew</i>, old fellow," cried Jokisch, "where have you +been? You and I are neighbours, and still I never see you."</p> + +<p class="normal">The forester, who had been obliged to complain of Mr. Tiralla +formerly, said to him in a friendly, reproachful voice, "I never meet you in the +Przykop now." Schmielke and the gendarme also gave vent to their +astonishment--why did Mr. Tiralla no more appear at the usual table? The priest, +too, had been very much surprised that he never came to church either. That was +not right, he really must go. He ought to pray twice as much as others, he the +husband of such a pious and--there was a momentary pause and Mr. Schmielke gave +a waggish laugh--beautiful wife.</p> + +<p class="normal">They poked each other in the ribs and laughed. Had he really +not noticed anything?</p> + +<p class="normal">But he glanced at them all in turn with a stupid, dull look, +and then went on drinking as if they were not there. He did not want to have +anything to do with them; he wanted to be left in peace. Why should it be such a +pleasure to them to gloat over him? He had not grown so stupid but that he could +feel they wanted to get some fun out of him. He gazed about him with a restless +look; now this place was embittered as well. Where could he drink a glass in +peace? At home he feared his wife. She was quite friendly to him now, and would +often say to him, "Have something to drink, do." And when he had complained of +the blood rising to his head, she had told Marianna to bring him a cooling drink +from the cellar. "Why do you want to go into the fields?" she had even said; +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 220]</span> +"let the young folks work there. Stop at home. It's so hot out of doors, you'll +get a stroke." She was right, and still he did not believe in her any more. Why +did she advise him in such a kind way to remain at home? He would have liked to +know--yet he dreaded the knowledge. Is not everybody fond of life? It would be +better to pretend that he had not noticed anything.</p> + +<p class="normal">But inwardly the man was consumed with a terror that burnt him +to such a degree that his mouth and throat and chest and lungs were as dry as a +parched field that never can get enough moisture. He was obliged to drink to +conquer the fear that always gripped him anew, that took possession of him day +after day, whether he was in the room or in the passage, in the yard either when +the sun shone, or on a moonlit night, in the barn, in the stables, in the house, +round about the house, everywhere where his wife happened to be. Hitherto he had +only felt safe in the inn, and then only when he was quite alone with his glass +and the buzzing bluebottles that flew up and down the dull window-pane.</p> + +<p class="normal">And now they were spoiling that for him too. He gazed at the +laughing men as though they were his enemies. Then, finishing his glass, he +turned away without saying good-bye or casting a glance at the numerous strokes +which the landlord had chalked on the board, and trotted out of the door with +his shoulders drawn up and his big head on one side, as though he were ducking +down for some reason or other.</p> + +<p class="normal">The men felt ready to laugh once more as they followed him +with their eyes. "Mad!" exclaimed Schmielke, as he struck his thigh. But they +did not laugh after all.</p> + +<p class="normal">"If he makes himself so drunk every day, he'll not +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 221]</span> +know soon what his wife is up to," remarked Jokisch, rubbing his nose +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who can blame her for it?" said Schmielke, in a tone of +excuse. "She must be twenty years younger than he, and Mr. Tiralla has never +been an Adonis. Between ourselves I can quite understand that a woman like the +fair Sophia favours somebody else. You are still very narrow-minded in this part +of the world, gentlemen. I'm only sorry that I'm not the favoured one."</p> + +<p class="normal">"An idiot, nothing but a stupid boy," cried Jokisch angrily, +full of envy.</p> + +<p class="normal">They were all envious. But Schmielke, the man of the world, +consoled himself and the others by saying, "Who knows whose turn it may be next, +now that she has begun?"</p> + +<p class="normal">So they all pinned their faith to that.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla tottered slowly down the village street. The sun +was glowing so that the dust which flew up in clouds as he shuffled along +glistened before his lowered face as though it were mingled with gold. He +neither heard nor saw anything, and he was not thinking, either. After passing +the last cottage in Starawieś, he mechanically took the parched track across the +fields in the direction of home.</p> + +<p class="normal">The early summer sun was shining down on the immense plains; +the fine-looking ears of corn that swayed to and fro were already about as high +as a man. The clover lay cut in the meadows, and emitted a powerful smell as it +dried quickly in the sun. The air was full of a continuous buzzing of insects +that glistened like gold, and of the trills of invisible larks. The blessing of +a promising harvest lay spread over the broad fields as far as Starydwór, and +everywhere +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 222]</span> +as far as the eye could see. But Mr. Tiralla's heart did not rejoice as a +farmer's should have done. He did not look about him, nor care whether the oats +and wheat were getting on, and whether the rye was beginning to turn pale. He +pressed his hat further down on his forehead and shuffled along a little more +rapidly. Marianna should bring him something at once to his room. He would lock +himself in; he had not had his daily quantity yet, those confounded fellows had +disturbed him. He still felt very out of sorts.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mr. Tiralla! Mr. Tiralla!" shouted somebody behind him.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not hear. Then somebody seized him by the coat as he +reached the Boża męka which stands at the cross-roads.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla turned round in terror--was it she? Ah, it was +only the schoolmaster. He gave a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why do you hurry so, Mr. Tiralla?" said Böhnke in a +breathless voice. "You were almost running. I saw you in the distance when you +left the village, and I've been racing behind you the whole way."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why did you do that?" asked Mr. Tiralla. "I want to be alone, +I must be alone, I'm safest when I'm quite alone." Then he sighed again, and his +swollen eyes glimmered as he cast a restless look around.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster sighed too; dear, dear, the man was quite out +of his mind. It must be true what they were saying in Starawieś, that Becker had +become Mrs. Tiralla's lover. Confound it! "May I offer you my arm, Mr. Tiralla?" +he said, going close up to him. "You're walking badly."</p> + +<p class="normal">"No, no--no, no!" cried the stout man, keeping the +schoolmaster off as though he were afraid of him. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 223]</span> +And then he added in a gruff voice, as he saw that he would not be repulsed, "<i>Psia +krew</i>, what do you want? Go to the devil, little Böhnke."</p> + +<p class="normal">But the words "little Böhnke" did not have the usual effect on +the schoolmaster, for he felt sorry for the man. Besides, he wanted to know, he +must know, how far it had gone with Mrs. Tiralla and Becker. You could not +believe all the gossip of the inn, but he would get at the truth from the man +himself, the husband who had been insulted and deceived.</p> + +<p class="normal">So after Mr. Tiralla had stumbled several times, Böhnke took +hold of his arm. "Do let me accompany you," he said in an anxious, friendly +voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All right then," he growled. The man's solicitude did him +good after all. Besides, what had he to fear from little Böhnke? He was pale and +humble, pleased when you left him in peace, and did nobody any harm.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Mr. Tiralla put up with the schoolmaster's company and they +walked together like father and son. And when they came to the farm gate he did +not even object to his going still further with him. "Come along, little +Böhnke," he said, "come into my room. Marianna shall fetch us something out of +the cellar; I've got the key. Then we two will have a drink by ourselves."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was a long sitting. It had been early in the afternoon when +they came from Starawieś, now it was almost evening. During all those hours the +house had been as quiet as though not a single soul, as though not even a mouse +were there. And still every time a glass was put on the table with more noise +than usual Mr. Tiralla had hastily put his finger to his lips, "Sh!" He had +drawn nearer and nearer to his friend as he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 224]</span> +whispered to him. For the schoolmaster was his friend, and it did him good to +have such a friend. Did little Böhnke know what a mouse felt like when it was +being enticed into a trap with bacon? Oh, his wife was kind to him now, she was +so bright, and smiled the whole day long. She would even have brought him +something to drink with her own hands if he had asked for it, she who had +formerly turned up her nose and said, "Pooh! you stink!" if he had only drunk +one small glass. But who could trust her? "For listen, little Böhnke"--Mr. +Tiralla put his arm round the other man's neck and breathed into his ear with +trembling voice--"listen! she's laying a trap for me. And when I'm dead, my +friend--sh!"--he clapped his hand over the other man's mouth as he was about to +jump up--"be quiet. You mustn't betray me, hold your tongue. And when I'm dead, +then, oh then----"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla could not speak any more. He hiccoughed and +sobbed, for he had already drunk a great deal, and then, putting his head on the +table, he began to weep.</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster sat motionless. He scarcely heard what the +man had been saying, for he was listening the whole time for a sound in the +house. Would he not soon hear her steps, her voice? How he longed for them. But +nothing moved. Everybody was in the fields bringing in the clover, Marianna had +said when she brought the last bottle in, and then they had watched her through +the window, as she, too, went off with her red skirt up to her knees and her +rake over her shoulder. Bringing in the clover! Mrs. Tiralla had never helped to +do that before. But this year--the man's face was distorted with jealousy--this +year there were two young men there, her stepson and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 225]</span> +Becker. Which of the two was it? Perhaps both. The man gave a dull groan. Two +lovers. And still he could not learn anything for certain. This man was so +awfully stupid, such an idiot.</p> + +<p class="normal">The compassion which Böhnke had at first felt for Mr. Tiralla +was changed into anger. It was the man's own fault, it served him right; why did +he not take better care of her? He gave the weeping man a rough push, "Your wife +has got some good friends; I suppose you know it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla did not fire up, but let his head remain where it +was. "Leave her. Oh, little Böhnke, the only friend I possess, if you knew, if +you knew."</p> + +<p class="normal">He gave several heartrending sighs, but when the schoolmaster +was imprudent enough to ply him with questions in an eager, inquisitive voice, +he suddenly grew silent. The other's eagerness had made him suspicious, and he +obstinately closed his mouth; he would not be pumped.</p> + +<p class="normal">So they sat in silence until it was evening, and still the +schoolmaster delayed his departure. He must wait, she must be coming. The table +and glasses were already swaying backwards and forwards before his eyes, and +still he let Mr. Tiralla refill his glass, whilst he did the same to his. What +else could he do, so as to beguile the awful time of waiting?</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke had no idea how much he had drunk; if he had known it, +he would have been terrified. He had always despised those who drank more than +they could stand, and he had always known that he himself could not stand much, +but he knew it no longer. She must come some time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Your health, Mr. Tiralla!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Much good may it do you, little Böhnke!"</p> + +<p class="normal">They clinked their glasses once more without any +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 226]</span> +sign of mirth or enjoyment, only for the sake of drinking; the one consumed by +the pangs of jealousy, the other pursued by the fear of death.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then the crack of a whip was heard. At last! There she +was--but with the others. The schoolmaster had staggered to the window, and in +his haste had upset his chair with such a loud noise that Mr. Tiralla, terrified +at what might betray them, screwed up his eyes, put his hands to his ears, and +would have liked to creep under the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">They drove into the yard. The oxen in front of the wagon came +slowly along with wreaths of red clover and blue cornflowers round their horns, +quite conscious of their finery. On either side a young man was walking with a +rake thrown over his shoulder; a dark one on the one side, a fair one on the +other; the one slender, the other more thick-set, but both nice-looking and both +happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke looked on with envious eyes. And there--he pressed +still closer to the window--on the top of the sweet-smelling hay, handsomer and +happier-looking than he had ever seen her before, there she sat enthroned. Her +light-coloured dress was fresh and clean, her broad-brimmed hat hung down her +back, her clear forehead was unprotected; she looked younger and more +light-hearted than her daughter, who was crouching behind her. Brown-skinned +Marianna was hurrying behind the wagon, laughing. She had fallen off the +piled-up clover, and had now to run behind.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was as though gaiety personified had entered Starydwór. The +schoolmaster clenched his fist and shook it at the wagon, and still he would +have given his life to have been in the procession and have taken part in Mrs. +Tiralla's joy. "How happy she is," he murmured, turning away. He hated her at +that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 227]</span> +moment on account of her happiness, but then he felt he could not begrudge her +it, after all.</p> + +<p class="normal">He walked past Mr. Tiralla with a gesture of loathing, and +without saying good-bye.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come again, my friend, my brother, come soon," he said +thickly.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke did not answer. He must go out, out to that deceitful, +despicable woman.</p> + +<p class="normal">He met her in the passage.</p> + +<p class="normal">Did she know that the schoolmaster was there? Had Marianna +prepared her? Anyhow, she looked neither surprised nor terrified. Her blooming +face turned neither redder nor paler, it kept the same rosy tint, and there was +a kind expression in her eyes as she looked at him. She held out her hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It was so beautiful," she said, smiling, as she drew a deep +breath of pleasure.</p> + +<p class="normal">"So beautiful," he repeated softly, devouring her with his +eyes. He drew her away from the light almost by force. When they had reached the +darkest corner, he said to her accusingly, "You're deceiving Mr. Tiralla."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Whose business is that?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mine, mine, mine!" He shook her at every word, he was beside +himself. He felt he was intoxicated, and still he could not control himself. He +raised his hand as though to strike her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She caught hold of his arm, "Oh, don't hit me."</p> + +<p class="normal">The gentleness with which she said it disarmed him. How dared +he strike her? How dared he, who was intoxicated, strike this woman? All at once +he lost his courage and his anger disappeared.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, why do you disturb me?" she wailed, in a low voice, and +closed her eyes. "Please leave me, oh, do leave me. I was so happy."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 228]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Her voice touched him. Yes, he could well believe it, it does +one good to be happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had slowly retreated; now she was again standing in the +light. He saw that she was escaping from him, and still he could not hold her.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Mikolai approached. "Where are you, mother?" +The others now also appeared; the schoolmaster saw her surrounded by figures in +light garments as through a mist. Rosa had taken the garlands off the oxen and +now asked, "What are we to do with them?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come, let's adorn the saints with them," answered the woman. +"It's the first harvest of summer; may they be gracious to us." Then turning to +the schoolmaster she said, "Come more frequently, Mr. Böhnke. I should be +pleased if you would often come to see Mr. Tiralla."</p> + +<p class="normal">All the man could do was to bend over her hand and whisper in +a hoarse voice:</p> + +<p class="normal">"Certainly, if you wish it, Mrs. Tiralla."</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">They had adorned all the saints in the house, as well as the +image of the Holy Virgin in the niche over the gateway, with the clover and +cornflowers. The wagon with its huge load of clover was standing in the shed; +to-morrow early it was to be put into sacks, this evening they were to have a +rest. It was quite like Sunday at Starydwór; even the Sundays were not so +beautiful formerly as the workdays were now. Marianna was singing in the kitchen +whilst making pancakes, and Mikolai was strolling about the yard smoking, with +his arm round Rosa's shoulder. She was blushing and smiling at something he was +saying to her.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 229]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"I tell you, you'll be sorry for it when you're once in the +convent," he was saying in a persuasive voice. "It's a dreadful thing to have to +nurse the sick, or pray the whole day. The Ladies of the Sacred Heart are all +elderly, I've seen them once. And the Grey Sisters--oh, don't tell me anything," +he said, putting her off as she was about to interrupt him, "I know what I'm +saying. They're all old and ugly. What do you want to do there? Stop at home; we +two get on so well together." He drew her more closely to him, and then said +very seriously, although two dimples began to show themselves in his round +cheeks, "As I'm your brother, I'm going to give you some good advice. See that +you marry Martin. I like him just as much as a brother already, so what will it +be then? Let him stop here and put his money into the farm, so that we can buy +some more land, or perhaps build a distillery, or a brick-kiln. Or let him buy a +mill here in the neighbourhood with the money that you'll bring him. It's all +the same to me. All I want is that you don't go into a convent." He gave her a +friendly push, so that she reeled a few steps away from him, and then catching +her again he drew her to his side, laughing. "Won't that be nice, sister mine, +eh? What do you say to it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"But does he like me?" she inquired, in a soft, timid voice. +Her heart throbbed--husband and wife, and always united during many years, and +many children. Her face flamed. If only he liked me, she thought, and it was as +though she were praying.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why shouldn't he?" asked her brother, looking at her +tenderly. He was really fond of his good, gentle little Rosa. But then his +glance grew criticizing and appraising as he added, "You're certainly not half +so pretty as your mother. <i>Psia krew!</i>"--he smacked +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 230]</span> +his lips and his eyes grew ardent--"what a fine woman she is! What a pity--and +the old man drinks. But people must not compare you two, that's all. Martin will +understand that; besides, he isn't one of those who look at beauty alone."</p> + +<p class="normal">Suddenly a violent pain pierced Rosa's heart, and she +involuntarily pressed her hand to her side; it was as though her heart were +broken and she must hold it together. Oh, yes, her mother was beautiful, and how +she had laughed when they were turning the clover; just like the wood-pigeons in +the Przykop. She could not be compared with her mother, she knew that. Her head +drooped in painful humility.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But you've got something too," said Mikolai consolingly. +"Becker has to look out for a wife with money. Although he has some himself, he +hasn't enough. Besides, I think he's very fond of you. Tell me"--he put his hand +under the girl's chin and looked into her face--"do you like him too? Shall I +tell him so?"</p> + +<p class="normal">The tears welled into Rosa's eyes and rolled down her cheeks. +She shook her head without saying a word, and as he urged her, "But why not? +Don't be so stupid!" she said quite softly, "I don't want to; no, I would rather +not," and then tore herself away from him and ran into the house, and up to the +room she shared with Marianna. There she threw herself on her knees beside her +narrow bed and began to cry and pray. She had to cry; she would have liked to +check the tears that flowed, she did not know why, but she could not. Was that +jealousy that was stabbing her heart like a knife? Oh, no, nobody in the world +could admire her mother as she did. She would gladly have given her +everything--only not Becker. How those two had gazed at each other. They had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 231]</span> +kept together the whole time in a remote part of the field, always side by side +as though they belonged to each other. And her mother had laughed as though she +were a young, happy girl, much younger and much happier than she, Rosa, had ever +been. Was it not disgraceful to laugh like that when one is so old?</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa's lip curled, but then she felt very much ashamed of +herself. How horrid it was of her to envy her mother because she had laughed. If +only she might always laugh and be happy! Her lot would be to pray, pray always. +She would go to the Grey Sisters and nurse the sick, or to the Ladies of the +Sacred Heart. That was the only thing she wanted to do, nothing else was worth +longing for.</p> + +<p class="normal">Husband and wife, and always united during many years, and +many children--it sounded like distant music. Rosa moved her lips more rapidly; +she would have liked to stop her ears, she fought with all her strength against +the distant music. "Jesus, my only Friend, I love Thee above everything. +Sweetest Jesus, Saviour!" she whispered fervently; her eager eyes were full of +longing as she raised them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa had never had a picture of the Saviour over her bed, +nothing but a vessel containing holy water and some consecrated palm branches, +but at that moment a picture shone on the bare wall which had never been there +before. She stared at it in a transport of joy, and her eyes grew bigger and +bigger; her lips faltered as she prayed, and she heaved a deep +sigh--there--there--Jesus Christ! How Martin Becker resembled Him in every +feature, and how He smiled at her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The expression in the girl's face grew more and more ecstatic; +it was as though all the blood in her body had suddenly become active, as it +coursed down into +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 232]</span> +the tips of her toes and then up into her hot cheeks. Rosa glowed with +delight--there He was, there He was. It was no longer the Christ Child, whom she +had got leave to nurse, it was He, He, so big and so beautiful.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jesus, O my Saviour!" She uttered a cry of joy and stretched +out her arms.</p> + +<p class="normal">It had grown dusk outside and the low room was already in +darkness, but the picture shone with a wondrous splendour before Rosa's eyes. +She writhed on the floor, her delicate body trembled with pain and ecstatic +happiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">When Marianna came upstairs to dress--for Mr. Mikolai had +promised faithfully to take a short walk in the fields with her after +supper--she found the Paninka lying on the floor, pale and almost fainting, as +though all the blood had left her body. Poor little thing! The maid lifted the +light body on to the bed and began to undress her.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rosa resisted with a wail and kept firm hold of her +clothes. She would not come down to supper either, she wanted to be alone, quite +alone with Him.</p> + +<p class="normal">"With whom?" asked Marianna inquisitively. But she received no +answer.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young girl lay on her bed, pale and with a faraway look in +her eyes. Marianna cast a glance at her in which there lay both fear and +reverence--dear, dear, was that to begin again? She made the sign of the cross +and then, as no sound came from Rosa and she seemed to be sleeping, hastily made +herself smart, put on a dean cap and her beads with all the long, gay-coloured +ribbons round her neck--Mr. Mikolai would approve of her now--and hurried +downstairs, humming a song.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Nobody missed Rosa at supper. The evening was so warm, so mild +and alluring that it had turned all their heads.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even Mr. Tiralla, who otherwise would have asked for his +little daughter, did not give her a thought. True, he was sitting at the table, +but his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and he neither saw nor heard anybody. It +appeared as if he might fall off his chair at any moment.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker was filled with aversion as he looked at him; it +was a shame, a disgrace to drink like that. He turned his eyes away. Then he +flashed a tender glance at Mrs. Tiralla; poor, dear woman, if only he could +carry her away in his arms, away from him, away from all this foulness! Would to +God he could get away from it all! But they could not run away together, and so +he, too, must stay to please her. It was not easy; it was no honour to serve +such a fellow, as he had done now for well-nigh three-quarters of a year. But he +was doing it to please Mikolai and her--yes, her. He had to stop.</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman now cast a look at him as though she had guessed his +thoughts. She did not thank him in words, but the thanks lay in her eyes. Mrs. +Tiralla's eyes had always been beautiful, velvety, deep, speaking eyes, but now +there was a soft gleam in them, instead of the restless flickering that had so +often been there--the gleam of love.</p> + +<p class="normal">She gazed at Martin Becker with a deep, warm look. When they +went to the Przykop together, as they had arranged to do as soon as Mr. Tiralla +was asleep, she would say to him, "I thank you." How she longed to say to him, +"I thank you for coming to Starydwór, I thank you for coming as a deliverer. +Look, I've become cleansed through you. Oh, how I love you, +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 234]</span> +how I thank you!" But would he understand her? No, how could he, for what did he +know? If she were to say to him, "I've become cleansed through you," he would +look at her with big, astonished eyes, for he did not know of any guilt. But was +she really guilty? No, she was not--the woman raised her head with a confident +air--no, she knew of no guilt either. The memory of all those years with all +those bad days and bad thoughts had disappeared as though they had never +existed. She was once more as young and as innocent as she had been when she sat +in her priest's study. It had been quite a different woman who had sighed at +Starydwór for so many years, who had wept and had again and again endeavoured to +free herself from this hateful husband. Poison? She had to smile; how kind the +saints had been to her; they had preserved her from the poison. Now Mr. Tiralla +drank. And if he continued to drink as he was doing, so much Tokay and beer and +gin, then he would soon drink himself into the grave. God be gracious to his +poor soul!</p> + +<p class="normal">The look that the woman cast at her husband was almost +compassionate; he never disturbed her now. She nodded with a smile to her lover +and then pushed the bottle, which was not yet empty, nearer to her husband. +"Won't you finish it?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He mumbled something unintelligible as he gazed into his +glass, but did not look at her. Then she filled his glass to the brim, and as he +still did not drink and did not even stretch his hand out to take it, she took +hold of it, sipped a little, and then almost pushed it into his hand. "Your +health! Much good may it do you!"</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 235]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was asleep. They had not even waited until he fell +from his chair, for he was still sitting in his place, although his head had +fallen on the table. They need not have left the room, however, for they were as +good as alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai had gone out somewhat earlier. He had stood a short +time at the front door whistling softly, but when the whistling had ceased and +Marianna's clatter was no longer heard in the kitchen, the two had nodded to +each other with a smile, as much as to say, "We understand," and had also got up +from their seats and gone out as the others had done.</p> + +<p class="normal">They wandered slowly along hand-in-hand. Mrs. Tiralla never +dreamt of fearing that anybody should see them; she walked calmly along in her +light-coloured dress that could be seen afar off in the flat fields in spite of +the twilight.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin did not feel so calm. "If anybody were to see us!" he +said, as figures, more suspected than actually seen, appeared and disappeared +among the corn. "There are still people about."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Leave them," she said, with a smile. "Come, put your arm +round me. Lead me, I should love to be led wherever you want to go. I'll close +my eyes, and then I shall neither see the sky nor the fields nor anything more; +I shall only feel you." She clung to his arm that was round her. Oh, to wander +like this through eternity. Her heart was filled with ineffable rapture; this +was better than heavenly bliss. She had now no longer the glowing wish to kiss +him as she had done formerly, to press her mouth to his fresh lips, so that +neither of them had any breath left; oh, no, she would blush if she were to do +that now. The passionate longing which had tormented her until she possessed him +no longer tortured her. Now she was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 236]</span> +his and he hers, now they were like the angels in Paradise, who live in bliss.</p> + +<p class="normal">He led her into the Przykop. But when he caught her to his +heart in a wild embrace behind the first bushes, she repulsed him. "No, not like +that." She was no love whom he had picked up in the street, she was his bride, +his wife, and when they later on went to heaven, she wanted to stand pure before +the throne of God.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker was speechless; he did not know what to answer +to this. He understood how to kiss, but he did not understand this. It all +seemed very strange. Why had she sought him then, hung on his looks? Why had she +immediately fallen into his arms like a ripe apple, which only requires a slight +touch, if she had become so prudish all at once, as chaste as one whom you have +to teach what love is? Why, even little Rosa could not have been more chaste.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had to sit down on the moss by her side and only touch her +hand. The woman looked about her with dreamy eyes; she could see the fields from +the edge of the Przykop. It was pitch-dark in the hollow; he would have liked to +go down there with her, but she refused; she wanted to look at the stars above +the fields, whose twinkling brilliance was reflected in thousands of dewdrops.</p> + +<p class="normal">"The splendour of heaven has fallen on the earth," she said +softly. "You've come to me, and I thank you." And then she told him all she +wanted to say about her gratitude.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt quite ashamed. How beautifully she could express +herself. She was a clever woman and a good one too. What a shame it would be if +he were to interrupt her now with amorous speeches and strain her to his heart +in a violent fit of passion as he had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 237]</span> +done on the first evening, when he had been groping in the passage in the dark +and had run against somebody soft, who had pressed herself against the wall, and +who, when he whispered in an eager voice, "Is that you, Mrs. Tiralla?" had flung +her arms round his neck and had let herself be led wherever he wanted. That +evening she had been like a heifer that has thirsted for a long time, and has +been driven through dusty fields, and that on seeing water rushes at it, so that +the restraining rope breaks and it drinks and drinks and cannot get enough. Now +she was like a saint.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young fellow would not have ventured to embrace her, +although his arms and all his fingers were tingling, and although the nearness +of this beautiful woman and the warmth of the summer evening made his blood +surge through his veins. They were quite alone, quite hidden. A deep silence +reigned, save for a land-rail piping in the corn, and a deer calling deep down +in the Przykop--and still he controlled himself. Everything was so different at +Starydwór to what it was elsewhere.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin had not come to his age without having held a girl in +his arms--as an apprentice at the mill at home and more especially as a +soldier--but a woman like this one had never been his. For one short moment a +feeling of regret filled his heart at the thought that it might perhaps have +been still nicer with Rosa. Besides, he never felt quite happy about this +affair. What would his mother have said to it? For this was a woman, a married +woman! The blood mounted to his head--his good old mother, who had been so +honest all her life. Or was it desire that drove the blood in this way to his +cheeks? Oh, how beautiful this woman was, more beautiful than any of the girls +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 238]</span> +he had ever seen in his life. How white her neck looked just where her dress was +cut out a little. He could not control himself any longer, he had to kiss it. +But she crossed her hands over her white throat and blushed as she whispered, +"Not like that, not like that." But when she again and again felt the pressure +of his hot lips she could not restrain herself any longer, and clasping him to +her bosom with both arms, she cried in a loud, jubilant voice, that echoed +through the dark fields, "All the saints be praised. I love you, I love you!"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 239]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">The Paninka at Starydwór had visions again. Marianna spoke of +it in the village, and when she met Jendrek, who was at Mr. Jokisch's, she +complained to him of having to sleep in the same room as the girl. It was very +unpleasant, and she would rather sleep on the straw in the stables, or anywhere, +than be with somebody who talked all night long as if it were daytime, and who +carried on a conversation with the Lord as though He were a bridegroom whom she +was wooing. Mr. Tiralla had better look round for an earthly bridegroom for his +daughter, or give her at once to the heavenly one, so that the dear soul might +get peace and not toss about and frighten others with her strange goings-on.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna had also complained of it to Mrs. Tiralla, but she +had shrugged her shoulders. Everybody knew that the girl was often very excited. +It was on account of her age, and it would be all right in time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had not time to think of her daughter at present, +for all her thoughts were centred in Martin Becker. The summer was far gone and +autumn was approaching, and she sometimes had a feeling as though the man she +loved would depart with the swallows. And if that were his intention, then, +then---- An icy dread made her shiver.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla did nothing now but vegetate, sleep and drink, +drink and sleep. He grew more and more dull-witted +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 240]</span> +every day, shunned everybody, sat brooding for hours together with his glass in +front of him, now and then had fits in which he would suddenly bellow like an ox +that the butcher has just given a blow between the eyes with his axe, then fall +down like the ox, clench his fists in rage or agony, foaming at the mouth, and +with a rattling noise in his throat, roll his eyes, hit about him like a madman, +and at last fall into a deep sleep, dead-tired. He had more than once lain on +the ground so rigid and icy-cold that Marianna had buried her face in her hands +and howled--now it was all over--and his wife had stood by him with her finger +on her lips, her big eyes bigger than ever, and her neck stretched out, +listening. But he always awoke again. And even if he felt stiff and weak, and +complained of such pains in his limbs that he dragged his legs along as though +paralyzed and could hardly walk, he still went on living. He, who had formerly +been so stout, now shrivelled up and grew yellow and thin, and was always +hoarse, and did not relish his food any longer. Mikolai noticed it, and made up +his mind to send for a doctor to see his father, but his stepmother said what +was the good of asking his advice? He would not be able to do anything after +all. So the young fellow gave up the idea, and preferred to use the money it +would have cost to have a doctor to buy a new spencer for Marianna, and a fur +cap for himself for the autumn, so that he might find favour in the eyes of all +the girls.</p> + +<p class="normal">They cured Mr. Tiralla themselves. Strong wine was good in a +case of great debility, and it was a medicine which Mr. Tiralla would not pour +out of the window. And for the weakness in the legs nothing was so efficacious +as a bottle of Pain Expeller when well rubbed in. You could buy it at the +chemist's in Gnesen, and +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 241]</span> +it would have a good effect if used morning and evening.</p> + +<p class="normal">But after Marianna, who took care of Mr. Tiralla, had rubbed +him the first time, she came running to her mistress in great tribulation. She +had hardly uncorked the bottle, she said--true, it had smelt very good, sharp +and pungent like strong gin--when the master tore it out of her hand, sniffed +it, and then took such a quick, deep gulp of it, that she had been afraid it +would harm him.</p> + +<p class="normal">But the Pain Expeller did not harm Mr. Tiralla, as it could +just as well be used internally as externally. So after that he took a gulp of +it morning and evening, and sometimes during the day as well, when his legs +required an extra rubbing.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The harvest had all been gathered in, and the wind swept +across the stubble, carrying the loosened cobwebs along with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was standing in the gateway looking away over the +empty fields at the signs of departing summer. She shivered and wrapped herself +up in her shawl; she was filled with a strange feeling of uneasiness. The time +had come which she had always feared; the swallows were sitting huddled together +on the telegraph wires, gathering together for their flight. To-morrow would be +St. Mary's Day, and then they would depart. And he?</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman pressed her hands together and gazed with terrified +eyes at the image of the Virgin in the niche. Martin had gone to confession, for +there would be plenary indulgence at the great festival to-morrow. Oh, if only +she, too, had gone! She felt sorry now that she had put it off. Then they could +have walked +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 242]</span> +to Starawieś and back again together. What a long time it was since they had +walked together. He had not had time lately, they had been obliged to get on +with the harvest, and he had worked so hard that he was too tired in the evening +to do anything but sleep. How often she had fretted to think that she was not +strong enough to work in the fields like Marianna and other girls, then she +would have walked close behind him, would have stooped continually to pick up +the corn he had mown, and would never have felt tired being so near him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Now the harvest was over and the winter was drawing near, with +its days when there is hardly anything to do, days in which you can loiter about +and be so happy, <i>tęte-ŕ-tęte</i> with the one you love, but which are awful, +awful when you are alone. The woman shuddered.</p> + +<p class="normal">Why should she always imagine that he intended to leave +Starydwór? He had never said a word about it. Nobody had ever said a word about +it to her, and still she felt sure of it. She had looked into his heart, and it +had lost some of its joyousness. But was there any place in Starydwór where you +could feel happy? No, no, no! Her very heart quivered. She often felt as if the +old walls were going to fall down on her. And the old pines on the outskirts of +the Przykop used to bend their tops at night in the direction of the farm, and +groan as though the souls of those who could find no rest were moaning in their +branches.</p> + +<p class="normal">And the rats, too, that had remained quiet for so long in the +cellar, had begun again to glide from corner to corner, and through Mrs. +Tiralla's dreams like ghosts that were pursuing her. Mr. Tiralla had lived too +long. If he were not there she would be happy, for then she could leave the +place with Martin +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 243]</span> +Becker, if he would not remain at Starydwór; even though she would have to go on +her bare feet, how gladly she would do so!</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla looked with longing eyes towards Starawieś, whose +church steeple was pointing to heaven like a finger. She would feel easier as +soon as she saw Martin again. "For God's sake don't leave me, darling," she +would beseech him. It was not his face that she loved so much that she could not +live without it even for a few hours, it was not his laugh that had bewitched +her, neither was it his light footstep, nor his slender, erect body, but it was +his youth she wanted, his heart that was so young, so fresh, so pure, that it +carried hers away too to where everything was bright and happy.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Martin, Martin!" She stretched out her arms as she gave the +beloved name into the care of the winds. Then she saw him coming. He was alone, +for Mikolai, who had gone to confession with him, had stopped at the booths +behind the church. He came quickly along the edge of the field, as though he +were in a hurry. The woman smiled--ah, he was longing to see her, as she him. +"Martin!" she called once more; a sweet welcome lay in her voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he gave a start. About what was he thinking so gloomily? +It was not his wont to frown like that and keep his eyes lowered. And he did not +jump over the ditch that separated the field from the road, as he generally did +in order to reach the farm gate more quickly; it looked almost as though his +footsteps lagged, as he deliberately walked along to the crossing that led into +the road further down.</p> + +<p class="normal">She went to meet him. What did she care if the people from the +settlement were standing at the crossroads near the Boża męka on their way back +from +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 244]</span> +church, staring at them open-mouthed? She seized hold of his hands and smiled at +him. "What are you thinking of, dear?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've been to confession," he said in a low voice, as he drew +his hands away from her and put them behind his back, so that she could not get +hold of them. He walked beside her, his head bent and without touching her.</p> + +<p class="normal">How his face used to beam when he saw her again after an +hour's separation! How he had wanted to touch her even though it were only her +dress! What was it, what could it be? A sudden sense of hopelessness took +possession of the woman. Yes, he was going away from her, he was trying to leave +her. As she gazed into his face she could discover no sign of joy at seeing her +again, but a struggle was depicted on his open features, which had never been +able to hide anything. "I've been to confession," he had said, nothing more. +Alas, alas, <i>what</i> had he confessed? What penance had been laid upon him?</p> + +<p class="normal">She trembled as she pressed closer to him. "What are you going +to do?" she panted.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'm going now," he whispered, shaken. "I'm going. Oh, if only +I could!" He uttered a deep sigh.</p> + +<p class="normal">His sigh gave her back her courage. She felt that it was +difficult for him to leave, and that made her feel stronger. "You'll not go," +she said, smiling amidst her tears, "you'll not leave me. I love you so dearly. +And--aren't we husband and wife in the sight of God?" The words came to her like +an inspiration. They would calm him--husband and wife in the sight of God. "And +those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Be silent!" he cried vehemently, raising his hand +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 245]</span> +as though terrified. "You must not interpret it in that way. I've sinned against +the sixth and ninth commandments; I know it now." He bent his head very low.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Have you betrayed me?" she stammered, turning pale and then +flushing.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I've not betrayed you," he said sadly. "But I've betrayed +myself, if you call that 'betraying.' How could I do otherwise? I had to confess +that I had unclean desires, that I"--he stopped and pressed his hands to his +head--"oh, if I had never come here! +<i>Psia krew</i>, if only I had never seen you." He gave a dry sob as though he +were a boy, and ran away from her through the gate and over the yard into the +house, banging the door after him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She followed him with her eyes. What she had had a +presentiment of had now happened, what she had never dreamt of at first had come +after all. She stood as though crushed. She felt a pain as though there were +something in her throat. It was her terror that was choking her, but she forced +it down. Clenching her fists so tightly together that her nails dug into the +flesh, she threw her head back. She would not give him up--and she need not do +so either.</p> + +<p class="normal">But how, how was she to set about it, how was she to bring +about that he remained with her for ever? She stared at the empty fields with +lifeless eyes. Then she threw herself on her knees in her terror and distress +and deep despair. Here under the sky, that looked like a dome over the flat +land, she would pray, she would cry at the door of heaven, so that the saints +who were inside might hear her and give her advice and be merciful to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She knelt a long time in front of the niche in which the image +of the Virgin stood. Ah, the Holy Mother +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 246]</span> +up there knew her feelings, for had she not felt seven swords piercing her +heart? She would help her, she must help her. She prayed fervently. And whilst +praying, all kinds of plans flashed through her mind. Should she, too, go to +Starawieś to confession? But how was she to begin? How should she express +herself, so that she betrayed nothing to Father Szypulski, and still was +delivered from her agony of mind? She did not know what to do. Her agony was so +great, it seemed to grow and grow in spite of her prayers, until it was +unendurable. If only she could find peace, peace--but she could only find that +when Mr. Tiralla was in his grave.</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once the woman's lifeless eyes grew animated, and a +wave of colour mounted to her pale cheeks. The thought had come to her that if +Mr. Tiralla were to die Martin Becker would not hurry away from Starydwór. There +would be no need for him to hurry away, for she would be free and could love +whom she wished. And nobody would object then, not even Father Szypulski.</p> + +<p class="normal">She buried her face in her hands and shivered with delight. +What a life of bliss displayed itself before her eyes! But--all her misery came +back to her once more--but who would help her to this? She had no more poison, +and her hands--taking them away from her face she stared at them--these feeble +hands could not give him such a push that he, staggering at the graveside, as he +did already, could tumble in altogether and stretch his aching limbs in welcome +peace. Mr. Tiralla wanted to die, she saw it in his face, she knew it. Had he +not groaned, "If only I were dead!" when they had helped him a short time ago +out of the ditch into which he had fallen in a fit of weakness, when he had gone +out to meet the last wagonful of corn?</p> + +<p class="normal">It would certainly be best for him if he were dead. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 247]</span> +Rosa shuddered when she saw her father's yellow face and blood-shot eyes, and +smelt his foul breath, and Mikolai felt very annoyed with him, although he now +and then laughed at what he babbled in his weakmindedness.</p> + +<p class="normal">If Mr. Tiralla were not there! Oh, would the children not draw +a deep breath of relief when their father was out of the house? It was really +true his presence weighed on everybody. He was so repulsive to look at, and his +continual coughing and groaning were horrible to listen to. If only she could +deliver them all from him, and at the same time give the man his freedom! It +would, indeed, be a good deed. But how was she to set about it? Mr. Tiralla had +an excellent constitution in spite of everything; he would not drink himself to +death quickly enough. Now and then he did not even care to drink, and he would +sometimes push his glass away as though he disliked it. But he must drink, must +drink more, even if she had to fill his glass herself! Martin must not leave +Starydwór, he must remain!</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman raised her hands to the image, "Help, help!"</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once she bethought herself of the schoolmaster. What if +he were to come more frequently and drink with her husband? He must have +somebody to drink with him, so that he got to like it better, so that he felt an +eager desire for beer, wine, and gin. Mr. Böhnke had come once a week during the +summer, and then Mr. Tiralla had always drunk an enormous quantity, but the man +had lately stopped away. He must come again. Not once a week--no, often, often, +every day if possible, for--the woman started convulsively--for there were not +many more weeks before Martin Becker would be leaving.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 248]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">If she could delay his departure, only for a little while, for +one more month, two months, for then, then--the woman rose from her knees and +drew a deep breath--then the difficult task would, nay, must, have been +accomplished.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">As they sat at supper that evening, Martin Becker began to +speak of going away. You could see that it was very difficult for him to give +notice, he could hardly get it out; his face was burning and he kept his eyes +fixed on the ground.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai had just returned from the fair in high spirits, but +his good humour now quickly disappeared. What, Martin wanted to leave--what was +the meaning of it? That was a nice piece of news! He had never mentioned +anything to him about it before. "What's the reason of this all of a sudden, +eh?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not care to continue as a farmer, said Martin +hesitatingly. He wanted to look about him a little, perhaps look out for a mill.</p> + +<p class="normal">But that could not be arranged so quickly, said Mikolai, who +began to stand up for his rights as master, after he had caught an imploring +look from his stepmother. He could not get away from his engagement in that cool +way, although they were friends and had always agreed. Was he going to leave him +in the lurch just when he had the autumn sowing to do? Mikolai grew furious when +he saw all his beautiful plans disappear like bubbles. "It's a confounded +nuisance!" he cried, banging the table as he shot a look of fierce accusation at +his old father. He, he alone, was to blame for everything going wrong. What +other reason could there be for Martin no longer feeling happy at Starydwór? +There was no doubt +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 249]</span> +about it; the old man, who was always drunk now, had grown very objectionable. +"Stop with us, do stop," he said, returning to the charge, and cordially +stretching his hand out to his friend. "I promise we'll alter what you don't +like."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla gave a start; now his own son had even said it. +"We'll alter what you don't like." She gave Mikolai a significant look and tried +to catch his foot under the table; let him urge Martin as much as possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">So Mikolai, who suddenly thought with dread of having to work +all alone at Starydwór, had recourse to begging. Had they not sworn to be like +brothers, and not to leave each other if they could be of any use? Could Martin +not see that it would be hard work, much too hard work for him quite alone here? +"Father's health is failing," he said; "how long will he last?" He cast a half +contemptuous, half sad look at the man sitting there so dead to everything; it +was hard to see his father like that. "Martin, brother! And I had hoped that we +two should always remain together, and that you would marry my Rosa!" he +exclaimed in quite a mournful voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Martin, who had listened to it all in silence +with his eyes persistently lowered, jumped up so vehemently that he upset his +chair. "No, no!" he cried, turning quite white.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla, too, grew as pale as death. They glanced at each +other for a moment, almost timidly.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me go," begged the young man. Then his voice grew more +energetic. "I must go. I----"</p> + +<p class="normal">He stopped; Rosa, who had been sitting quietly at the table, +so quietly that they had scarcely noticed her, suddenly got up and fled out of +the room. Martin thought he could see that her face was suffused with a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 250]</span> +deep blush and that she was fighting with her tears. He felt so sorry for her, +she was a good girl! But it was better she should think he did not care for her. +It would not do--no, it would never do.</p> + +<p class="normal">He gathered himself together once more, and said in a firm +voice, "I'm going. When the first snow falls, we shall have finished the autumn +sowing, and until then I'll work like two for you. You shall have nothing to +complain of, Mikolai. But I must go. The first of January is the time in this +part of the country when everybody changes servants, but I"--his voice was +embarrassed, faltering, but he spoke rapidly--"I shall not be able to stand it +so long. Let me go, Mikolai, let me go on the first of December. For the sake of +our friendship I beg it of you!" He held out his hand. "Don't refuse. Give me +your hand."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai still hesitated--what was he to do to keep Martin? +When he begged like that, what was he to do--say yes, or no? But a glance from +his stepmother told him to clasp his hand.</p> + +<p class="normal">December, the first of December! The woman gave a covert sigh +of relief; she almost succeeded in smiling in a friendly way. The look of +anguish disappeared from her face--bah! it was a long time to December, weeks +and weeks, more than two months! All at once she could have shouted with joy; +Mr. Tiralla would not be living then.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Won't you drink something?" she said to her husband, bending +over him so as to fill his glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla shrank back as though she were poisonous, and +when she continued to urge him in a friendly voice he growled, got up from his +chair, and stole out of the room.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 251]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla stood outside in the yard blinking in the pale +moonlight. It was autumn and the night was cold; he felt so chilly that he +shivered and coughed more than ever; he fumbled about with restless fingers. +Were the powders still in the little box that he had carried about with him for +so long? Were they really there, quite safe? Ugh! Sophia was trying to kill him +again!</p> + +<p class="normal">His teeth, which had grown quite loose, chattered in his +terror. If he were asleep and felt nothing? Had she not already once put her +hand into his pocket? If she found them this time, he would be done for. But she +should not have the chance. A cunning grin distorted his face, which had grown +as yellow as it before was red, and the expression of which was now just as weak +and malevolent as it before had been good-natured. He would hide the powders in +quite a different place, and she should never, never get to know where they had +been put. No, never!</p> + +<p class="normal">Casting a timid glance around to see if anybody were watching +him, he tottered across the yard. Nobody was there, nothing but the moon, that +looked out from between the clouds above the barn and gave light.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was not a sound to be heard, neither snorting nor +lowing; the horses were standing in front of the rack, sleeping, and the cows +were lying in the straw.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was a hiding-place in the darkest corner of the stables, +which he remembered from his boyhood, and where he had hidden many a pilfered +apple and pear, and his first cigar, from his father's keen eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">Look, the loose brick was still in the corner. If you took it +out, you would find a hole three times as big as was necessary for hiding the +little box containing the powders.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 252]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">There, now put the stone into its place again. Nobody would +guess what was lying behind it. Now the spiders could again weave a close web in +front of it like a veil, and nobody would spoil it for them. H'm, that was very +well done, said Mr. Tiralla to himself, with a satisfied growl. Let Sophia look +and look until she was blind, she would never find them--ha, ha!</p> + +<p class="normal">He laughed hoarsely to himself. Then he looked around in the +dim stables, in which the lantern only cast a feeble light, and shuddered. If +she were to find them after all? He uttered a deep groan and pressed his hands +to his head. Oh, how awful it was that this terror never left him in peace. +"Ha!" He gave a hoarse cry and shrank back. Was not something rustling? He +trembled, he would have sunk on the ground with fright if a strong hand had not +seized him by the arm and held him on his feet.</p> + +<p class="normal">It was Marianna, who had come with her milk pails. She was +very frightened herself--what did Pan Tiralla want there, what was he looking +for? He was not like the young master, who often used to waylay her at milking +time. Poor master! and how ill he looked, it was enough to make your hair stand +on end. She felt very sorry for the old gentleman. Were they not all making fun +of him? And he had always been so good to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she gave him a cheery smile and clapped him on the back. +"You must not fret, Panje. Don't fret because your wife is good friends with +Becker." She cast a covert glance at him as she said it, for she was curious to +know what kind of a face he would make.</p> + +<p class="normal">But he did not make a face at all; he only growled, "What's +that to me?" Then he pressed his hands to his head again, and rocked to and fro +like a bear, and uttered deep sighs.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 253]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The maid felt really terrified. Why did the master give such +awful, heartbroken sighs?</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla would not answer her; no, he would not tell. +Who knows what more his wife might do to him if she heard it? He put his finger +to his lips, while his eyes roved about in all directions, and said, "Sh!"</p> + +<p class="normal">But inquisitive Marianna would not let him go. Of whom was he +so frightened? Of his wife? It seemed so. Oh, yes--she drew nearer to her master +as she whispered mysteriously--but she was certainly a very strange cook. Had +not she, Marianna, almost died from drinking some coffee which her mistress had +once made for the master?</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla listened, trembling with horror. Yes, yes, she had +wanted to poison him, he had guessed it long ago. And she still wanted to poison +him. He hid himself behind the girl like a child. "Protect me, protect me, oh, +she's coming!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Clinging to the girl's skirts, he dragged her into a corner, +and, pressing himself in behind her, held her like a shield in front of him. Oh, +Sophia was coming, where should he fly from her? He wailed like a boy afraid of +the cane.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna had great difficulty in calming him. "Be quiet, +Panje, be quiet," she said; "she mustn't, she won't do anything to you. I, +Marianna, am here, you know. And if she dares after all----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Yes, oh, yes," he broke in hastily, "then you'll go to the +police station and say, 'It was she, she, who brought the master to his grave.'"</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, by God she would, the master could rely upon her. +Marianna gave him many a fair promise and swore solemnly she would do it. That +calmed Mr. Tiralla more than anything else.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 254]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Then he gave her all the money he +had in his pocket, and promised to give her much more for herself and children +if she would give information as soon as he lay in his grave.</p> + +<p class="normal">The two wept together in the dim stables, the man with fear, +the girl in her good-nature. They sobbed in such a heartbroken way and struck +their breasts so loudly that the animals, startled out of their sleep, turned +their heads and looked in astonishment at the strange couple. The lantern went +out, and no ray of light penetrated the darkness.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Meanwhile Mrs. Tiralla was hurrying across the fields. She was +quite alone. Martin had said good night to her as though it had been for ever. +Farewell for ever! If it had been otherwise, he could not have kept his eyes +lowered, and his icy-cold hand had remained only for a few moments in hers. She +had pressed his, but he had not returned the pressure, rather he had hastily +withdrawn his fingers as though hers were burning him, and had not turned round +once more at the door in order to return her glance with one equally expressive, +as he had always done before. Then an icy-cold fear had taken possession of her, +and all the confidence she had just acquired disappeared again. The first of +December! There was certainly time enough before the first of December, but who +could say that he would really stay until then? Could he not go off secretly in +the night, disappear out of her life as suddenly and unexpectedly as he had +entered it?</p> + +<p class="normal">As she dashed across the fields it was as though all the stars +were falling from the sky. She was quite breathless, she was running so.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 255]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Where did she want to go? To Böhnke, the schoolmaster. He must +come, he must help her. Had he not sworn to do so? Had he not sworn without her +asking it that he was hers for ever and ever, through all eternity? In her +mind's eye she saw his pale face, thin and hollow-cheeked, consumed with +passion, and his feverish eyes, feverish with his longing for her. If she +implored him to help her, he would not, could not, refuse. So she was hastening +to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">She had run out of the house without being noticed. Alas, how +quickly Martin had at other times followed her steps! He had always heard her +softest footfall, her very breath in the dark passage, every movement of her +hand as it glided over his door. To-day nobody had followed her. A feeling of +bitterness overpowered the lonely woman; without knowing it hot tears ran down +her cold face, that was already wet with dew. Was there nobody who really loved +her? She, the pious woman, could no longer understand how the Sacrament of +Penance could strike terror into any one. And even if she were never to obtain +forgiveness, and were to be lost for ever, she would never give up her love nor +her lover. Away to Böhnke; he would, he must help her.</p> + +<p class="normal">The dogs barked in the village as the woman tore past. She +rushed along past the sleeping cottages like the wind's bride, her skirts +fluttered, her hair had come undone owing to her hasty flight, and the cold +breath of autumn beat against her face. Nobody met her; it was already late for +the people in the village, and there was hardly a light to be seen anywhere. If +only he were awake! And if he were not awake? Then she would thump on his door, +or knock at his window so loudly with her fist that he must awake.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was the house in which he lived. She had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 256]</span> +never been there, but he had told her that his room was on the left side of the +front door. She found his window easily, it was still lighted up, and the +shutters were not closed. God be praised, the saints were with her! There he +was!</p> + +<p class="normal">She stood on tip-toe and looked in at the low window. He was +sitting at the table, just as she had pictured him to herself, pale and +hollow-cheeked, his face ravaged with passion. The lonely man had a bottle and +glass in front of him, and he filled his glass and drank it off in one gulp, and +filled it again, and then buried his face in his hands and brooded like Mr. +Tiralla used to do.</p> + +<p class="normal">She knocked, but he did not hear her. Then she thumped with +her fist so that the window panes rattled.</p> + +<p class="normal">He started up and came to the window. He uttered a suppressed +cry in his fear and joy at seeing her standing there. He tore the window open, +and his hands trembled as he stretched them out. She had come, come to him? He +stared at her with glassy eyes, his breath smelt of drink like Mr. Tiralla's.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was afraid of him, and still her distress drew her nearer +and nearer to him. "I've come to you--you," she said in a swift whisper. She +seized his hands imploringly. With a little help from him she swung herself up, +and stood beside him in the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">There was his bed, there his sofa, there his desk and all his +books. She stared around with eyes in which, however, there was no interest. She +only wanted help, help, and she thought of nothing else.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had closed the window and he now closed the shutters too. A +gleam of prudence had returned; what would people think if they saw her in his +room at that hour? He drew her to the old sofa, and she +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 257]</span> +let him do so; he ventured to kiss her and she allowed him to do that too.</p> + +<p class="normal">Something rose within her; in her shame and anguish she longed +to thrust him back, but--she had need of him, she had need of him. She held her +breath so as not to smell his. She suffered him to kiss her, her lips tightly +compressed, but when he drew nearer and nearer to her in his intoxication she +repulsed him. Then she recollected that she would have to put up with it, for +she dared not offend him, she must bind him to her. She tried to find an excuse +for her repulse; had he not deceived her once before with the dish of mushrooms? +Could she really trust him again?</p> + +<p class="normal">He swore solemnly that she could, glowing with desire.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she said, "Pan Tiralla must die, and you, you must help +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I--I?" he stammered, all at once sober. He was sorry for the +man, he had been punished enough. Why should he die?</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not notice his hesitation. "You must drink with him," +she whispered hastily; "drink every day with him at our house, so that he drinks +more, much more than he does now. He doesn't drink enough at present. You must +be with him, you must fill his glass without his noticing it, you must entertain +him the whole time, tell him what he likes to hear, put him in a good humour by +saying, 'Your health!' and 'Much good may it do you!' so that he goes on +drinking and drinking. You must help me in this way." She looked at him +imploringly.</p> + +<p class="normal">He avoided her eyes; no, he could not do that, he did not like +to. Mr. Tiralla was rather fond of him, but how much did she care for him, eh? +Not <i>so</i> much. He snapped his fingers in her face. She preferred +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 258]</span> +another man, Becker; oh, he knew it very well, and that was the reason things +were not going quickly enough for her. No, he would not give her a helping hand +to that, never, never, he panted, excited to fury by his passionate jealousy, +and let his hand fall with a bang on the table, "Never!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She trembled and seized hold of his clenched hand; she must +win him, he must help her, he had no right to refuse her his help, what should +she do then? Thoughts flew like lightning through her brain; the first of +December, the first of December, oh, Martin would run away from her much earlier +than that, he was even now like a young bird trying its wings, and she would +soon not be able to hold him any longer. Martin, Böhnke--Böhnke, Martin, all ran +together. She could not think clearly, she was beside herself with terror. She +threw her arms round the schoolmaster's neck and, putting her lips close to his +ear, sobbed, "You must, you must, I implore you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Her face, which in spite of hot tears and cold dew was still +so alluring, so dazzling, was quite close to his. Then he caught hold of her +with all his strength. "You've made me a drunkard," he jerked out, from between +his clenched teeth, and strained her to his heart, so that she lost her breath, +"and you're making me a murderer--but by God, I love you, I love you!"</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 259]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">Winter had come during the night.</p> + +<p class="normal">Even yesterday the gossamer had flown across the fields and +hung fast to the bare bushes and tops of the few remaining turnips; to-day the +first snow lay on the ground. There was not much of it, but still it was wet and +cold.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young men, who were sowing the last seeds, finished their +day's work in silence, a silence that was as heavy as the grey, lowering sky +overhead, and as sad as the damp, sullen-looking fields in November. They had +nothing pleasant to say to each other. Martin's thoughts were far away, he was +longing to leave Starydwór, leave it far behind him; and Mikolai was also deep +in thought.</p> + +<p class="normal">The happiness that Mikolai had felt during the summer was a +thing of the past. Although a farm of one's own is not to be despised, he would +much rather be servant somewhere else than master at Starydwór. How awful his +father was! Why, he was out of his mind! If only he could catch that fellow +Böhnke by the throat, he thought to himself, clenching his fists in fury. Why +did he come creeping to the farm day after day, locking himself in with his +father? They never let anybody in, but they would drink and drink, until they +had not as much sense left as the cattle. Mikolai swore to himself as he thought +of it. And then his stepmother even expected +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 260]</span> +him to put the horses in and drive that drunken rascal home when he felt too +tired to have a chat with Marianna. Let him sleep himself sober in the first +ditch he came across; it was quite good enough for him. But instead of that he +had to be hoisted up into the cart and driven at a walking pace along the +pitch-dark road, so that he, Mikolai, was frozen and wet to the skin and felt +thoroughly annoyed. What could she see in the schoolmaster to make her so +patient and calm that she put up with his visits, which were certainly not doing +his father any good?</p> + +<p class="normal">The young fellow felt very surprised, and now and then +something like suspicion awakened within him. How could his stepmother always be +smiling? Was it not rather a thing to cry about? But who could know if her +smiles came from the heart? She was, no doubt, to be pitied too. It was wrong of +Marianna to speak so unkindly of her mistress. She ought not to shrug her +shoulders and make faces, but it was just like a servant. That was another cause +of annoyance to the young man. If there had been anything between the +schoolmaster and his stepmother, he would, of course, have noticed it of his own +accord, he was no longer a foolish boy. Rosa gave him much more to think of than +that. He felt very uneasy about her, she was so strange. He could not dissuade +her from that confounded wish of hers to go into a convent. She persisted in it +more than ever. He had already tired himself out with talking to her about it. +She would listen quietly, with her eyes fixed on her hands lying idly in her +lap, and then, when he knew of no other argument to bring forward, she would say +softly, but more decidedly than if she had spoken in a loud voice, "I shall go +into a convent, all the same."</p> + +<p class="normal">What a pity the girl was so holy. "Holy," that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 261]</span> +was what Marianna called her. If only Becker and she had married, how nice it +would have been. Mikolai still harped on this, and it was this disappointment +that grieved him most of all. Why did Martin not care for Rosa?</p> + +<p class="normal">As they were returning home together in the early twilight, +Mikolai once more took courage. He was certainly not going to offer Rosa again +to Becker--he felt too sorry for her to do that--but he wanted to hear why his +beautiful plan could not be realized. So he said, "The snow has come, now you'll +soon be going," and cast a covert glance at his friend to see what he would say +to it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin answered quite simply, "I shall soon be going."</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's still a fortnight," said Mikolai.</p> + +<p class="normal">"There's still a fortnight," repeated Martin, and then gave a +deep sigh of relief as one who again breathes light, fresh air after it has been +sultry and oppressive for a long time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai sighed too. <i>Psia krew</i>, how difficult it was to +sound the fellow. Although he thought he had introduced the subject so +cunningly, he saw he would have to be still more explicit. So he continued, +"Only a fortnight longer, a very short reprieve. We shall all miss you, Rosa +especially. Well, well!" He paused for a moment, and then cast another covert +glance at Martin.</p> + +<p class="normal">The latter's face, however, was inscrutable; it was as though +it were hewn out of stone, and he could learn nothing from it. But what was +that? It seemed to Mikolai as though his friend's pale face had suddenly +flushed. Then he turned his head from side to side, as if his collar were too +tight, and swallowed a few times as if he were gulping something down, and then +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 262]</span> +the corners of his mouth drooped as though something were grieving him. At last +Mikolai could no longer restrain himself. Why this dissimulation? He put his arm +round the other's shoulders and said in a low, cordial voice, "Marry my sister, +do. She's good and pretty and has also expectations. We three will be very happy +together. Take her, Martin, I beg of you."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Let me go!" cried the man, pushing Mikolai away as though he +had said something more than unkind. Then he strode over to the other side of +the road and kept his head obstinately turned towards the field. He did not look +at his friend again, so that Mikolai, who was completely nonplussed, grew silent +too.</p> + +<p class="normal">So they walked along in silence through the soft mud and deep +ruts, each on his side of the road. Mikolai's eyes suddenly felt wet. The deuce, +what was that? He rubbed them angrily, but they were wet the next moment again. +Here, here they had driven last summer--only a few months ago--with hay and +flowers on the wagon, and had been so gay. And now? His lips trembled, he felt +unstrung. At last he had really seen that things must take their course.</p> + +<p class="normal">When they reached the farm the house lay in darkness. There +was only a light in Mr. Tiralla's room to the right of the passage; they could +see it shining through the closed shutters.</p> + +<p class="normal">What, was that confounded Böhnke there again? If you had a +sharp ear you could hear somebody speaking in a subdued voice, almost a whisper, +and a gurgling sound as though they were drinking quickly and then putting their +glasses down. Mikolai flew into a rage; he felt just in the humour to pitch the +fellow out. It was not exactly the thing he cared to do, for a guest is sacred; +but that cad was no guest, he was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 263]</span> +a monster. He was ruining his father entirely. Mikolai lifted the latch angrily, +but the door did not yield, it was locked. Then he shook it in his fury, "Hi, +open the door!" He banged and scolded. But everything remained quiet in the +room, nobody answered and nobody opened the door.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he rushed out of the house and into the barn in his +anger, threw himself down on the straw, clenched his fists and wept aloud until +he fell asleep.</p> + +<p class="normal">When the schoolmaster left the farm at a late hour that +evening Mr. Tiralla was quite drunk. He had only enough sense left to whisper in +a tender voice, "Little Böhnke, friend, take care. If Mikolai catches you, he'll +chop you into small pieces, perhaps with the hatchet, perhaps with the chopper. +Ugh! he's a brute--they're all brutes here--ugh! my friend, you don't know what +brutes they all are. My dear, beloved friend." Mr. Tiralla fell on the other's +neck, kissed him and stammered in a hiccoughing voice, while he stroked his +cheek, "If I--I--ha--hadn't you--God--bless--you--it would--b--be all--up--with +me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke left the room filled with a strange emotion. He was not +so drunk as Mr. Tiralla--he could still collect his thoughts, if he took the +trouble to do so--and he was thinking of the man who loved him as a friend and +son. But very soon Mrs. Tiralla took entire possession of his thoughts. He +looked around and listened for her step, and strained his eyes so in the dark +that they watered. Was he to leave the house without a single kiss? <i>Psia krew</i>, +he would not do that. He swore in an undertone, for he had suddenly grown +brutal. He would be paid, paid for every visit. It was no pleasure to him to get +drunk with that fellow. If she did not come now, then---- There was still +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 264]</span> +time to go away and never come back, to become again as he had been before. If +he were to ask to be removed and left the neighbourhood, and never more put his +foot inside the door at Starydwór? Let Mr. Tiralla drink himself to death, +alone. But if he were never to see this woman again?</p> + +<p class="normal">The fresh air in the yard cooled his brow as he stepped out of +the house. "Ah!" He drew a deep breath; air, thank God. There was still time, +still time.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment he heard the rustle of a dress in the dark +passage, a furtive whisper of "Pan Böhnke!" and turning round he stretched out +his arms in a transport of delight. "My darling, my sweet one!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not respond to his kisses, but he did not notice it in +his joy; and he did not see either in the dark how she pressed her eyes together +and screwed up her face. All he heard was her whisper in his ear, "How are you +getting on? I hope you've filled his glass frequently? How is he? Please tell +me, will it still last long?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not answer her; he had buried his mouth in her hair, +and his lips were glued to its silky waves like those of a thirsty man. When she +wanted to free herself in her impatience, "Speak, why don't you tell me, how +much longer?" he clasped her still more closely without replying. There was no +escape for her. They were standing like a pair of lovers, almost melted into +one; her head was lying on his breast as though welded to it by the pressure of +his arms. Thus her eyes and ears were closed, and he--he only felt her.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment the door of Mr. Tiralla's room was gently +opened and the old man stuck his head out timidly. Had his little Böhnke, his +friend, succeeded in escaping?</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 265]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The sick man was tortured by the idea that they wanted to kill +the schoolmaster just because he was his, Pan Tiralla's, brother and friend, his +only friend. If they were to do something to him? If they were to attack him in +the dark yard? His terror on his friend's account had given strength to his +shaking limbs, and he had been able to stand upright and walk.</p> + +<p class="normal">He peered around like an owl that is dazzled by the glare; the +light from the open door fell on the passage. Ha! who was standing there? The +murderers! the murderers! Save yourself, little Böhnke. He was on the point of +crying out aloud for help when his voice suddenly snapped--why! it was only +Marianna. A grin full of pleasant memories appeared on his wrinkled face--ha, +ha! it was Marianna standing there with a lover. But all at once the pleasant +grin turned into a terrified grimace; it was not Marianna after all, it must be +Sophia, and with her?</p> + +<p class="normal">The idiot's eyes had suddenly become clear, and he had +recognized his friend, his brother. Böhnke was holding his wife in a close +embrace, and they were standing like a pair of lovers, breast to breast. Alas, +alas! Mr. Tiralla fell back as though a gleaming knife were pointed at his face. +The two were talking away so busily, so softly, that they had not noticed him. +What were they whispering about? His teeth chattered. Murderers, murderers! Ugh! +they were taking counsel together how they were to kill him--little Böhnke and +Sophia--Sophia and little Böhnke. Little Böhnke! His friend, his only friend!</p> + +<p class="normal">The man's wrinkled face shrivelled up more than ever, and his +figure became quite small. Closing the door carefully and bolting it in +trembling terror, he shuffled back to the table, groaning.</p> + +<p class="normal">His little Böhnke, his friend, his only friend!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 266]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The man looked round the empty room with a wild glance, as +though his terror were pursuing him. There, there, there! He stared at the chair +near him; his friend, his only friend had just been sitting there, close to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he began to cry bitterly, that is to say, his red eyes +could no longer weep tears, but he puckered up his face like a whimpering child, +and a hiccoughing sob raised his chest in jerks. And then he drank what remained +in all the bottles.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai started up out of the straw in bewilderment--what was +he doing in the barn, why was he lying there? He had had such awful dreams. Was +it evening, night, or already morning? It was no good looking at his watch in +the dark. He got up, and rubbing his swollen eyes staggered out of the barn. The +moon was already high above the farm; it must be near midnight. Who was that +creeping off to the gate?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Stop. Who goes there?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Could that be Böhnke? "<i>Psia krew!</i>" All at once the +young fellow recollected how miserable he had been.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Heigh, stop!" He set out in pursuit of the man who had just +gone out of the gate.</p> + +<p class="normal">Böhnke heard neither the calls nor the panting man who rushed +after him. He was staggering across the fields as though intoxicated with joy, +repeating the words, "My darling, my sweet one!"</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment somebody caught hold of him by the nape of his +neck, and as he was walking very shakily, he fell down without any show of +resistance and without a cry, so that Mikolai, who had whirled him round and was +now kneeling on his chest, had an +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 267]</span> +easy time of it. "It's I, Mikolai," he panted. "I'll teach you!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai had hardly ever given anybody such a thrashing before; +it was such a relief to him to get rid of his misery in this way. He flogged the +man until his arm was stiff, and then threw him into the ditch at the side of +the field and went home satisfied. He whistled as he walked back to the farm. +There, now he had given that fellow a good reminder; he would have a few bruises +to show. And if he felt inclined to bring an action against him, then let him; +he would never repent of what he had done. He felt much brighter now. He looked +about for Marianna; how tiresome, she was no doubt sleeping upstairs by now. He +went round to the gable and began to whistle, but nobody opened the window, and +no eager "Yes, yes!" reached his ear. How tiresome! The woman was sleeping like +a badger in his hole. He would have to enjoy the thought of his successful +stroke by himself, then, and he pressed his fists against his mouth and hopped +about on one leg with joy.</p> + +<p class="normal">When he came round to the front door again he noticed a light +gleaming through the shutters in the big room. What, was somebody still awake? +Was his father not asleep yet? Perhaps in his drunken condition he had forgotten +to put out the lamp. Then it would be smoking the whole night through, as it had +done a short time before, when the smelling thing had only gone out for want of +paraffin. Did the old fool really want to set fire to the whole concern? How +dreadful it would be to have a fire with all that straw in the barn. The man +cast an anxious look at the streak of light which found its way through the +shutters; it seemed twice as broad as usual. What was the old man up to? He +would be doing some mischief +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 268]</span> +some day, that was certain. Seized with an unaccountable uneasiness, Mikolai +groped in the dark passage for the door-handle. "<i>Psia krew!</i>" Of course, +it was locked on the inside. He knocked; then he called, "Father!" He rattled +the handle. "The deuce, why can't you open?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Still no answer, and no bolt was withdrawn.</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook the door with all his strength. "I shall break the +door open if you don't unlock it at once."</p> + +<p class="normal">The door creaked and groaned, and Mikolai's loud voice echoed +through the house, so that one would have thought it would have awakened the +dead--bat there was no sound in the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then a fear gripped him; what should he do now? He was still +pondering when he heard his stepmother's voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla had gone to bed, but she had not slept. Her face +had burnt like fire, for she had been rubbing and washing it, so as to wash the +kisses off which she had been obliged to put up with in the dark passage. Her +forehead pained her as though there were a fresh scar on it, for the man had +strained her so forcibly to his breast that his watch-chain had left a mark +there. Oh, that stigma! She passed her hand over it again and again, but however +much she rubbed it did not disappear. She wrung her hands in impotent fury. But +then she clenched her teeth; no, no complaint, for she had done it for Martin's +sake. Was it not a joy in spite of all this agony to think that she was +suffering for his sake? Who could sympathize with her feelings? No one except +the Lord. He had wrestled in the Garden of Gethsemane; He had endured Judas's +kiss.</p> + +<p class="normal">"O Lord," she raised her hands in the dark to the picture on +the wall of the Saviour holding His flaming +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 269]</span> +heart in His hand, "Thou art acquainted with every suffering, Thou seest my +sufferings, have mercy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">It was probably the first time in her life that Mrs. Tiralla +had not used the prescribed form of prayer, that her heart had cried out in its +own words. Then she whispered, "Martin, Martin," as if the beloved name were a +form of conjuration, and stretched out her arms longingly in her cold, dark +room. Oh, how warm and bright it had been at Starydwór! Suddenly a smile spread +itself over her troubled face; it was as though a feeling of sweet peace had +come to her from afar, and had told her that it would be warm and bright again. +The certainty of this in the near future consoled her and made her patient. She +pressed her hand to her heart--hope, hope!</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she grew calmer, the burning sensation in her face had +become less acute, she had said her prayers for the night, and prepared herself +for sleep with her hands folded across her breast like a child. Soon, soon! The +smile was still on her face.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment the loud noise in the passage had startled her.</p> + +<p class="normal">What could it be so late at night? She ran out of the room in +her petticoat with no shoes on her feet; she was seized with a sudden +fear--Martin, if it were Martin who wanted to run away. She must go to him, take +hold of him, cling to him, he must not go! But then the thought struck her that +there was no need to fear, he would not be leaving with so much noise. But +still, if Mikolai were holding him, if they were quarrelling, struggling with +each other, the one wanting to go, the other endeavouring to hold him back? +Hark, what a noise! How Mikolai was shouting!</p> + +<p class="normal">"What is it, what is it?" cried Mrs. Tiralla, as she stood in +front of her stepson, panting. Mikolai +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 270]</span> +had lighted a kitchen lamp, and they gazed at each other in the dim light with +haggard faces.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where, where is he?" She caught hold of her stepson's arm. +But then she bethought herself. Martin was nowhere to be seen, and this was not +his bedroom door; this was Mr. Tiralla's, on which Mikolai was thumping, and +before which he now stooped down and tried to look through the chinks.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know, I don't know," cried Mikolai, shaking the +handle once more. "There's a light burning in the room; but everything is so +quiet, and father isn't snoring."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, leave him!" It was no longer a matter of any importance +to her, and she was going upstairs again. "He's fast asleep, that's all."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mikolai held her back in his fear. "Do stop," he begged, +and there was a strange note of anxiety in his voice as he added, "Father always +snores so at other times. I wonder if he could have had a stroke?"</p> + +<p class="normal">Could it be possible! The woman's cold face grew hot.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Father!" cried Mikolai once more, rattling the latch with all +his might, but the bolt did not move. "I'll fetch a hatchet," he whispered; "we +shall have to break open the door. You wait here and look out." He ran to the +shed, where the axe lay by the block.</p> + +<p class="normal">She remained standing in front of the door, whilst an eager +desire to learn her fate almost tore her asunder. Her eyes nearly started out of +her head. Everything was as quiet as death in there--at other times he always +snored so--what would she see in there? God be praised! She could hardly await +the spectacle.</p> + +<p class="normal">She threw herself against the door with all her weight; she +pressed her hands and knees so firmly against it that she, the weak woman, +succeeded in doing what the strong man had not been able to do. +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 271]</span> +The rotten framework gave way, and the door, lifted off its hinges, fell with a +dull crash into the room. The woman fell with it.</p> + +<p class="normal">At first she saw nothing, stunned as she was by the fall and +blinded by the dust from the rotten wood. But how soon she saw it all!</p> + +<p class="normal">There was Mr. Tiralla hanging from the hook in the centre +beam, which had once been destined to carry a chandelier, close to the table +with bottles and glasses. The man had made a noose of his handkerchief; the +ceiling was low and his toes almost touched the chair, but still he was +dangling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"O God!" She uttered a heartrending scream and sprang forward. +There he was, dangling, quite blue in the face and with his tongue hanging out +of his mouth. How awful, how terrible! She did not give herself time to consider +whether he was alive or not, or whether he would recover; all she did was to +look round for help.</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Mikolai returned. He stood motionless, staring +with open mouth, the hatchet in his hand. The woman tore it out of his hand, +swung it like lightning, the sharp edge cut the noose--and Mr. Tiralla fell on +the floor with a dull thud.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was a terrible night at Starydwór. Everybody had come +running, awakened by the noise of the falling door and Mikolai's cries.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna howled as though she were out of her mind; both she +and Mikolai had lost their self-command. Rosa had only given one short scream, +and then, with upraised hands, had fallen down in a deep faint.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla was the only one who remained calm. She had +helped the two men to put the body on the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 272]</span> +bed, and now she stood looking on, mute and motionless, whilst Martin rubbed the +stiffened limbs and moved the man's arms up and down, as he had been taught to +do when he was a soldier. Was Mr. Tiralla dead?</p> + +<p class="normal">"He's not dead yet." It was Martin who spoke, and she heard +what he said without answering a word. She closed her eyes; how compassionate +his voice--the beloved's voice--sounded. Did he feel sorry for her--or himself? +No, he only felt sorry for Mr. Tiralla.</p> + +<p class="normal">She opened her eyes wide. "Fool, idiot!" she could have +shouted to him in her fury. But then she hid her face in her hands and staggered +to a corner, where she broke down and groaned. She was the fool, the idiot, for +she had cut him down herself. Why? She did not know.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Martin carried Rosa upstairs. Mr. Tiralla was breathing again, +and now the young man had a feeling as though he would have to fight once more +for a life--but a young and innocent life this time.</p> + +<p class="normal">He carried the unconscious girl tenderly in his arms. She had +only very little clothing on, and he felt how thin and slender her limbs were. +Her bushy mane--not smooth and silky like his love's beautiful hair-- tickled +his cheek, but there was a perfume about her dry locks and about her whole +person that reminded him of the perfume of the fields in spring-time, which he +was so fond of ploughing. He carried her as carefully as though every movement +could harm her, as though she were a soap-bubble which disappears if +over-curious fingers touch it. And still he clasped her tightly. Once he thought +he could feel her nestling +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 273]</span> +against him; but it must have been imagination, for she had swooned and she +hardly breathed.</p> + +<p class="normal">On reaching the door of her room he entered almost timidly. A +light was flickering there. There was no help for it, he had to lay her down on +her bed, for the people downstairs had lost their heads, but he did it shyly. +There she lay, and as he bent over her--was he dreaming?--she flung her arms +round his neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">She dragged his head down to her lips and he felt her hot +breath as she whispered, "Always united--many years--and many children--my +Saviour, my Redeemer--oh, my beloved one, come, kiss me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Her whispering made him shudder. Why did she mix so strangely +what was in the Prayer-book with what lovers whisper in the dark? Would she be +saying any more? He could not help it, he had freed himself, but he remained +standing at her bedside, listening.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, I know, I know it very well," she wailed. Then she gave a +deep sigh, "Alas, alas, how beautiful you are, mother--Mary, Holy Virgin--alas, +so lovely, a thousand times more beautiful than I. If only I were dead--dead +like daddy." She was crying softly, and her hands were locked as though in pain +or prayer. "I shall go into a convent." Then she wrung her hands and cried in a +loud voice, "Have mercy on me, have mercy on me! Mary, Holy Virgin, help me, let +me hold the Christ Child on my lap! Oh, don't turn away--help, have mercy on +me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She stretched out her hands--oh, dear, was she going to catch +hold of him? How her hands trembled, how red her pale face had become.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin heard no more, he fled in horror. Oh, this Starydwór, +this Starydwór, if only he were hundreds of miles away from it!</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 274]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<br> +<br> + + + +<p class="normal">What had happened at Starydwór soon became known in Starawieś. +How could Marianna have kept silent about it?</p> + +<p class="normal">She had told Jendrek with many sighs the very next evening +behind the stable door, when he had rushed over for a quarter of an hour from +the settlement, and her apron had been quite wet with tears. The dear, good +master! Jendrek really ought to have seen how the poor man hung. Like that. And +she turned up the whites of her eyes and let her red tongue hang loosely out of +her mouth, so that the inquisitive man still shuddered when he thought of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ugh! But how did Mr. Tiralla look now?</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, just as usual, you could not see that anything had been +the matter with him. He crept about again as he had always done, yellow and +thin. But the strangest thing of all was that he did not know anything about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">Did not know anything about it? Jendrek would not believe +that. How can a man hang himself and afterwards know nothing about it?</p> + +<p class="normal">That astounded everybody. People came running to see Mr. +Tiralla and press his hand in mute condolence whilst they gazed at him with +curious, disappointed eyes. There were so many visitors the next and following +Sunday as Starydwór had not seen within its walls for many a day.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 275]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Jokisch and Mr. Schmielke came, as well as the forester +and the gendarme and all their friends from Starawieś and Gradewitz. Even the +priest was there. The big room was quite full of visitors. Refreshments were +brought in, Tokay and beer, and Mrs. Tiralla herself smilingly handed everybody +a glass of gin, which was very welcome in that cold, unhealthy weather. Mikolai +offered cigars, and soon the room was dark with thick, blue clouds of smoke, +through which every now and then a quick glance was cast at Mr. Tiralla, as +though the men suddenly recollected why they had come to Starydwór. There was +much laughing and talking.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla sat staring in front of him without saying a word, +or taking any interest in what was going on. It was as though he were no longer +one of them.</p> + +<p class="normal">Yes, the man was in a bad state of health, they all saw that. +What had the doctor said?</p> + +<p class="normal">They had not had one so far, said Mrs. Tiralla, casting down +her eyes. Then she added softly, with trembling lips, that up to now she had +only prayed and prayed.</p> + +<p class="normal">The priest nodded. But when he soon afterwards left and she +accompanied him to the front door, he took hold of her hand in the passage and +pointed out to her that it was her duty to send for a doctor. "My dear Mrs. +Tiralla," he said, "invoking divine help is certainly--h'm"--he cleared his +throat, those wide-open, staring eyes made him quite confused--"divine help is +certainly the chief thing, but human help is not to be dispensed with. Your +husband seems very ill, really dangerously ill, why won't you have a doctor? You +must absolutely send for one."</p> + +<p class="normal">She followed him with her eyes as he walked away and there was +a peculiar smile on her face. So--so he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 276]</span> +said that? Surely he did not believe that a doctor could change what had been +decided upon in heaven? Very well, she could, of course, send for a doctor. But +the man might prescribe whatever he liked, Mr. Tiralla would still be tottering +to his grave with every step he took.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"A strong-minded woman," remarked the visitors, as they walked +home across the fields. "Terrible," they said then, and shivered as though they +felt cold.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wind whirled round them, and a flock of ravens, startled +at their approach, flew out of the furrows screeching and cawing just over their +heads. What a horrible noise! The men stood still involuntarily. Look, look! +they all flew back to Starydwór and settled on the roofs. Those birds of ill +omen!</p> + +<p class="normal">Psia brew, how awful it must be there at present, to be every +day with that man. Why, he was quite idiotic. Mr. Tiralla had never been very +bright, and he had always had a hankering after drink. Well, well, your sin is +sure to find you out. Poor woman! She was the only one who deserved to be +pitied. It was really admirable how she kept up her courage.</p> + +<p class="normal">"H'm, it's taken a great deal out of her, nevertheless," +remarked Mr. Schmielke with a long--drawn whistle. He had suddenly grown very +cool in his feelings towards her. "Sophia Tiralla's reign is over and done with. +Did you notice the hollows in her cheeks? And then her eyes, how sunk they were. +H'm, that lanky, red-haired girl, who dared not show herself at her mother's +side a short time ago, is almost nicer-looking now. She's really not at all +bad."</p> + +<p class="normal">"You had better keep your fingers off her," said some one. +"She's going into a convent."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 277]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Tut, tut, don't talk nonsense. She--with <i>those</i> +eyes?"</p> + +<p class="normal">But the gendarme knew it for a fact, for the priest had +mentioned quite a short time ago that the Ladies of the Sacred Heart at the +Wallischei had been told of Rosa Tiralla's coming.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Very well then, I shan't," said Schmielke. He made no more of +his frivolous remarks, but grew silent as the others had gradually done. They +all felt out of tune, thoroughly depressed. Starydwór seemed to be running +behind them, now that they had left the place. In their mind's eye they +continued to see the black birds on the gloomy-looking roofs, and the man who +had hanged himself and was still alive, and the woman who had cut him down and +who still smiled.</p> + +<p class="normal">All at once they hastened their steps, and not another word +was spoken until they reached the first house in Starawieś.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then they began to speak of the schoolmaster. That was another +of them, he and Tiralla were a couple. Both of them were being ruined by drink. +But it was a great shame of Böhnke, for he ought to be a pattern to the +children, as the priest very rightly had said. How could such a fellow teach +children, a man who drank so much that he had been found in the ditch like a +tramp, his clothes torn, and bleeding and dirty? It was a great disgrace.</p> + +<p class="normal">The gendarme could tell a tale about that. He had many a time +seen the schoolmaster coming home at dawn, and had watched him trying to poke +his key into the lock; he had many a time had to help him to open the door. But +when he had picked him out of the ditch on his way home from a round in the +Przykop, looking no better than a drunken vagabond whom you +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 278]</span> +look up, he had felt obliged to speak about it. Father Szypulski would perhaps +have preferred him to have hushed it up, but it surely would not do for the +village schoolmaster to be found lying drunk and bruised in a ditch. It would +have been found out sooner or later, and then nobody would have any respect for +him. Of course, the man could not stop at Starawieś, and who knows, perhaps he +would have to give up being a schoolmaster altogether. The priest, who as a rule +was so loquacious, had never said a word about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">As they came past the house where Böhnke lived, they looked at +it askance. What did the man feel like? He had not shown himself for days--had +he already left? The priest had said "as soon as possible."</p> + +<p class="normal">They all felt they had never liked the schoolmaster; he had +always been so conceited, so proud of his learning. Here you could plainly see +it, "Pride goeth before a fall."</p> + +<p class="normal">They knocked at the door. The shutters in front of the +schoolmaster's window were closed. Had he really left, or was it because he felt +so ashamed of himself?</p> + +<p class="normal">The schoolmaster had indeed left, so the old woman, his +landlady, who lived on the other side of the house, told them. Oh, dear, she +complained, now her lodger had gone, and she had not got another one. "And what +had he done?" she cried, clenching her fists in her fury. "Let those be struck +by lightning who have slandered him. Dear, dear, how he wept. When I said to +him, 'Don't weep, Panje Böhnke, my husband, the <i>stas</i>, also drank himself +to death,' he did nothing but repeat, 'Oh my mother, my mother!' and groaned so +that he made my heart come into my mouth. His mother is said to be a +schoolmaster's +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 279]</span> +widow and very poor. She won't be pleased when her son comes home like that. God +have mercy on us all. Oh, Mr. Böhnke, Mr. Böhnke, what a good lodger he was." +And the old woman began to sigh and weep so for her former lodger that the men +got away as speedily as possible.</p> + +<p class="normal">How disagreeable everything was, and then the weather was so +raw. The only thing for them to do would be to make themselves comfortable at +the inn. And they did so.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna carried the news to her mistress that the +schoolmaster had been turned out of Starawieś in disgrace, in a voice full of +malice and scorn. Pan Böhnke had gone to the devil, what did the Pani say now, +eh? She cast a covert glance at her--what would she look like, pale or red, +happy or sorry?</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mrs. Tiralla looked quite unconcerned. At any other time +she might perhaps have rejoiced, but now it did not even surprise her. So the +schoolmaster was no longer in her way? Good. She knew that her guardian angel +was keeping his wings spread over her.</p> + +<p class="normal">She felt so calm at present that she was often surprised at it +herself. Her heart no longer throbbed and ran riot as it had formerly done. She +had been a fool and even a sinner, when she had caught hold of her guardian +angel's arm, and had cut her husband down when he was dangling; but she felt +that the saints had already forgiven her. She saw more plainly day by +day--almost hour by hour--that Mr. Tiralla was drifting quickly, uninterruptedly +to his end. She often longed to fold her hands in her exceeding +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 280]</span> +gratitude; she went about the whole day with prayers of thankfulness on her +lips.</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna was rather astonished to find that her mistress took +the schoolmaster's departure so coolly. Had there never been anything between +them? Neither formerly nor lately? Anyhow, she seemed very indifferent about it. +Now Mr. Mikolai had a much softer heart, for he was very much cut up when he +heard that the man had left. At first he had opened his eyes in surprise, but +then he had pressed his hands to his head and groaned, "I would never have +thought it; oh, dear, if I had only known it!" What a good fellow Mikolai was. +He would in time be just what his father used to be. And Marianna was more +attentive than ever to him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Meanwhile Mikolai went about looking very troubled. He had +certainly not wanted to do that, he had only wanted to give Böhnke a reminder +when he thrashed him and threw him into the ditch. It also grieved him bitterly +for his father's sake; the old man had been so fond of the schoolmaster, who +used to spend hours with him like a friend. And now his little Böhnke would +never come again. He felt so sorry for his father that he thought he must speak +to him about it.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Mr. Tiralla listened to his son's stammering excuses +without understanding them. "Schoolmaster--schoolmaster?" He shook his head. "I +don't know any schoolmaster. Friend--friend? Have--no--friend."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai shuddered when he looked at his father. There he sat +with loose, hanging lip, and eyes the eyeballs of which looked as rigid as +though he could not move them any more. He was not like a human being any +longer. Did he not remember anything? +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 281]</span> +He seized the old man by the shoulder and shook him, "Father!" Then Mr. Tiralla +shrunk together in his corner like a hedgehog when you put the tip of your +finger near it, and shot nervous glances at his son, glances in which there was +malevolence as well as fear.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai felt desperate; the man only answered with a grunt +now, it was impossible to explain anything to him. He felt as though something +were choking him, he was obliged to run out of the stuffy room into the biting +north-east wind that swept across the yard from the open fields and whirled the +straw and chaff and feathers about that were lying around.</p> + +<p class="normal">How terrible it was! The old man was spoiling both house and +farm for him. He clenched his fists and a sigh of indignation was wrung from +him; why, it would have been better if his stepmother had not cut him down!</p> + +<p class="normal">He made the sign of the cross as though to confirm the +thought. Then he turned to go indoors again. What could he do out there? There +was no work to be done, a grey, heavy November mist hung over everything. What +had become of Martin? He could no longer understand his friend. How well they +had formerly assisted each other to kill time during these dark days. But now +Martin could find no rest at Starydwór, he took no pleasure in anything, all he +thought of was the first of December, when he was to leave them.</p> + +<p class="normal">The lonely man shivered. Rosa would also be leaving after +Christmas; even now she sat in her room upstairs as if it were a cell, and she +was happy only when praying alone. She hardly ever appeared downstairs, she +seemed to shun everybody. How different it all might have been, how splendid! +But his father had ruined everything, everything.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 282]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The man uttered a curse as he entered the house. He went in +search of his friend. Martin, however, was not pleased to see him; he had begun +to turn his drawers and looked up disagreeably surprised when Mikolai came so +unexpectedly into the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you want?" he asked in an angry voice, hastily +throwing a bundle of clothes into his box which he locked.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Are you already packing?" inquired Mikolai. Then he added, "I +suppose you can't await the day of your departure? But it hasn't come yet."</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin cast an uncertain glance at his friend. "I know that," +he said softly, and then added hastily and in a louder voice, as though he +wanted to convince himself and friend of the truth of what he was saying, "I'm +not thinking of it either. There's plenty of time; I'm not in any hurry."</p> + +<p class="normal">Who believed that? Mikolai no longer believed his friend; why +did he not look him in the face? +<i>Psia krew</i>, something had come between Martin and him which he could not +fathom, but it was there, nevertheless.</p> + +<p class="normal">He felt very dejected as he left the room, the walls of which +had so often echoed with their laughter. Now no laughter resounded within the +thick walls of the old house. He stumbled up the dark stairs to Rosa's room; he +would go to her and say, "Come, laugh with me, Röschen, or at least talk to me. +I can't bear it any longer."</p> + +<p class="normal">But when he suddenly burst into the room his sister jumped up +with a terrified, eager look. She had been sitting near the low window, through +whose curtained panes there hardly came a gleam of light. Some needlework had +been lying on her lap, but it had slipped down and lay on the floor, and there +was a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 283]</span> +flushed, expectant look on her face. Who was that?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it's you." It sounded as if she were disappointed. She +grew pale, and her lids drooped wearily, but she forced herself to smile. "Good +morning, Mikolai."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Good morning, sister mine." He took hold of her hands and +gazed at her. She seemed so tall--or had she looked like that for some time? +"Pretty girl," he said playfully, and pinched her cheek that felt like velvet.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Don't talk nonsense." She freed herself indignantly and her +face darkened. But when she noticed that he looked put out, she smiled a wan +smile, and whispered as she clung to him, "Don't be cross. I must be preparing +myself, you know, and such things are no longer for me."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What rubbish, what nonsense." He grew seriously angry. "I've +had enough of these goings-on here. The old man drinks the whole day, you pray +the whole day, and there's not a bit of happiness in the house. +<i>Psia krew</i>, let the lightning----"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Sh!" She laid her hand on his mouth soothingly. "You mustn't +swear, Mikolai," she begged softly, "it's sinful. Come, sit down."</p> + +<p class="normal">She drew him with her to her chair near the window, the only +seat in the narrow room except the stool beside Marianna's bed. Her delicate +fingers forced him down and he squatted in front of her, whilst she put her arms +round his neck.</p> + +<p class="normal">"When I shall no longer be with you--it won't be long now, +only three, four, five weeks more." She counted and then sighed, "No, still +six."</p> + +<p class="normal">"So you count like Becker," he interrupted her angrily. +"You're longing to get away like he is. Nice love and friendship that, I must +say."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 284]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">She had flushed when he mentioned his friend's name, and a +restless look had come into her eyes, but she soon grew calm again. She gazed at +her brother with eyes full of love as she said, "You'll miss me, Mikolai, I know +that very well. And I shall miss you too. But I'll pray for you. Oh, dear"--her +voice was very sad, and big tears began to trickle down her cheeks--"I have to +pray for so much, for so many." She wrung her hands. "My life will not be long +enough for it all."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, yes, for father," he said in a low voice, and his head +drooped.</p> + +<p class="normal">She nodded: "And for mother too."</p> + +<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" He looked at her in surprise. "She'll earn +her seat in heaven by her own merits, she won't require your prayers."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who knows!" There was an expression of doubt in the girl's +pure face, and she stared straight in front of her as though she saw something +that others could not see. She trembled, and her voice was full of agony as she +continued, "Who can know for certain that she does not require anybody to pray +for her? Look, look!" She seized her brother's hand, and he shuddered at the +peculiar expression in her eyes, that had become even more fixed than before. "I +see mother in a white dress--oh, how beautiful she looks--I see her flying up to +heaven--but look, look! There are spots on the hem of her dress. All those dark +spots--do you see them, Mikolai?--are dragging her down. I'm not sure of it, not +sure of it"--she shook her head, and there was a troubled gleam in her eyes and +a terrified look on her face--"I love her so, I love her so, but there's +something." She passed her hand over her eyes. "I can't wipe it away, it's there +and it tortures me. Mikolai, brother!" +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 285]</span> +She threw her arms round his neck, sobbing bitterly, and her tears wetted his +cheek. "You must love me, love me dearly."</p> + +<p class="normal">Her trembling lips sought his and imprinted a long kiss on +them. He kissed her tenderly in return; his dear little sister, and she wanted +to leave him?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Speak to the old man," he begged. All at once he felt +convinced that his sister would be able to alter everything. "Talk to him," he +said ingenuously, "remonstrate with him, point out to him how wrong it is to +drink, and he won't do it any more. Then all will be right. And you needn't go +into a convent."</p> + +<p class="normal">"I'll speak to him. I'll remonstrate with him. But I shall go +into a convent all the same," she added in a low voice.</p> + +<p class="normal">He did not hear her last words, he was too happy at the +thought of her speaking to their father. Yes, there was some truth in it, there +was something holy about Rosa, she could convert heathens, he felt sure.</p> + +<p class="normal">He whistled as he went downstairs.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker gave a start when he heard his friend's clear +tones. How happy he seemed to be. An embarrassed smile crossed his face; +to-morrow by this time Mikolai would not be whistling so contentedly, for he, +Martin, if God were merciful to him, would be away over the fields, far away, +almost there where the setting sun had left a yellow streak in the sky. "Mikolai +will have to forgive me," he murmured, and went on with the occupation in which +he had been disturbed before.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had secured himself against interruption now, for he had +bolted the door. He was packing his belongings. He had arranged and hung up his +things in the room as though he had intended remaining at Starydwór for ever. +But now he tore down his parents' +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 286]</span> +photographs and those of his sisters and brothers, which he had hung up over his +bed, and the picture of Mikolai and himself as soldiers, and the gay-coloured +calendar which had looked so nice on the wall--no, he would have to leave the +calendar, Mikolai would miss it too much.</p> + +<p class="normal">He squeezed everything into his wooden box, and, as it would +not close at once, sat down on it impatiently. How fortunate it was that it was +no bigger, and that he could carry it comfortably on his shoulder!</p> + +<p class="normal">He used to awake every night when the old clock in the passage +struck the hour of midnight. What had become of his blessed sleep? To-night he +would wake as usual, and then he would lie with open eyes and listen--one +o'clock, two o'clock--and when everybody was lying in that deep, sound sleep +which comes in the early hours of the morning, he would quietly put on the rest +of his clothes--he would not undress himself entirely--and steal out of the room +in his socks with his boots in his hand and his box on his shoulder. Softly, +very softly. But that would hardly be necessary, for Mikolai always slept +soundly, and there was nobody else downstairs except Mr. Tiralla, and he no +longer counted, of course. So he could easily get away, for the key was in the +front door and the farm gate was quickly opened. Then he would run across the +fields--it would be dawn by that time and he would be able to see the +path--away, away to Starawieś. And then through Starawieś, where everybody would +still be asleep, away, away to the station in Gradewitz. The first train left at +eight o'clock, he could easily catch it. And when he was in the train, then--the +man drew a deep sigh of relief--then God had been merciful to him, then he was +saved.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin did not take into consideration that he was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 287]</span> +treating his friend badly. True, the thought had occurred to him for a moment +that he had given Mikolai his word and hand, but his duty to himself seemed of +more importance to him. His everlasting salvation was at stake. He had felt that +since the last time he had gone to confession, and he felt it daily with renewed +pangs of conscience. But he also felt that he was paying a high price for his +salvation. How she crept round him with her soft footsteps, making the circles +smaller and smaller. Had she not brushed past him in the passage the day before, +and whispered so close to his ear that her breath had tickled him, "Are you +coming?" If she were to repeat that again and again, would he continue to have +sufficient strength of will not to follow her? She knew how to talk and make +excuses. How sweetly she could talk. Had she no anxiety about her own salvation? +On thinking it over, he could not remember ever having heard her say anything +irreverent or impure. When she sat opposite him at table, quieter now than she +had ever been before, and mutely raised her big eyes to the ceiling, she looked +exactly like the pictures of the Virgin Mary whose heart is pierced with seven +swords owing to her grief for her Son. Oh, no, she was no bad woman, she was a +good woman--and still, it was a sin to remain near her any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin had lain awake a long time the night before, for the +words, "Are you coming?" still rung in his ears and made his blood course +through his veins like fire. There was such a pricking restlessness about him, +that he felt as if he could not remain in bed any longer. But when he had at +last fallen asleep after tossing about for a long time, he had dreamt of his +dead mother. She had appeared to him, and that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 288]</span> +portended something. And she had held up her finger as if in warning--or had he +only thought of that later on? He could not be sure, but next morning, when he +felt as tired, as heavy, and as worn-out as though he had been dragging +something that had been too heavy for him, it came over him like a divine +inspiration; this could go on no longer, he would have to leave at once and not +wait for the time that had been fixed. His mother had come to fetch him, her +anxiety for her child left her no peace at the throne of God.</p> + +<p class="normal">And Martin felt that he would have to go away secretly, +without any leave-taking. If she were press her lips to his, if her tearful eyes +were to implore him with a look like that of a wounded hind, if she were to say, +"My sun, my love, remain in my sky. It is God's will that the sun shall remain +in the sky, for otherwise it would be dark night, and then I should die"--then +he would not go. He would remain, and then--well, then? He uttered an incoherent +prayer. He was sorry for Mikolai; he felt a stab in his heart when he heard him +whistling. But he was glad he had not seen Rosa that day. If only he did not see +her again.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin shunned Rosa. He did not know himself whether the +feeling he had for the girl was a pious awe, because she was destined for the +convent, or an awe in which there was something like shame, shame because he had +listened to her when she lay on her bed and whispered her innermost thoughts +aloud.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man sighed as he passed his hand over his brow on which +the sweat was standing. How deeply he had sunk, more deeply than in the deepest +pond in the Przykop. The only thing that could help him now +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 289]</span> +would be to tear himself away from Starydwór by force, without any consideration +for anybody.</p> + +<p class="normal">He remained in his room the whole morning, but when he heard +the rattling of plates and Marianna's call to dinner he stole past the +sitting-room door and out into the yard. He did not care to eat. He stumbled +about among the trees in the Przykop where nobody could see him, and gave a +start every time an animal stirred, or a dry leaf fell to the ground. His heart +felt broken, but the hope of salvation shone feebly before his eyes. He would +soon be away. If only this day were over!</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was a short day in November, but still it seemed endless at +Starydwór. Mrs. Tiralla was full of anxiety and impatience. Martin had spent the +morning in his room, and he had not come to the midday meal. Where was he? She +had sought him everywhere and had not found him. She was trembling--where could +he be? The calm which she had lately acquired had all at once disappeared; she +forgot that the saints held her fate in their hands; all she could think of was +that Martin had gone away without a word. Was he coming back?</p> + +<p class="normal">She wandered about in an agony of fear, she could not remain a +quarter of an hour in one place. She ran up and down stairs, from her room down +into the passage and then up again, then out into the yard, where she stood at +the gate without cloak or shawl, and where the cutting wind caught hold of her +apron and spread it out like a sail, whilst she looked about for Martin. But she +could not find the one her heart was longing for.</p> + +<p class="normal">The fields lay desolate, the Przykop yawned like a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 290]</span> +grave in which there is no living thing to be found Where had he gone? She +sought his footprints, as a dog seeks those of his master, but the rain and snow +had obliterated them, and her eyes, full of tears, soon saw nothing but a grey, +impenetrable mist.</p> + +<p class="normal">She ran back into the house and began to question Mikolai. +Where had Martin gone? He must know, for between him and his friend there was +always a perfect understanding.</p> + +<p class="normal">Her stepson stared at her in amazement. Why was she so angry? +Becker would be sure to come back when it grew dark. Maybe he had gone to the +village; it was long since he, Mikolai, knew anything about his whereabouts.</p> + +<p class="normal">That did not add to the woman's peace of mind. So Martin kept +away from Mikolai too. He was separating himself more and more from them all. "O +God, have mercy! let him come back, let him come back!" She was like a hunted +hind that is seeking a place of shelter.</p> + +<p class="normal">So she ran to Rosa. It was long since she had been to her +room; she had not found time to go. But why had Rosa kept away from her? Surely +it was more fitting for the child to come to her mother than the mother to her +child? Now, however, in her great anxiety she fled to her tender-hearted +daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">At first Rosa was somewhat reserved. There was something shy +and strange in her behaviour towards her mother, but the latter did not notice +anything; all she wanted was a soul, a friend to share her anxiety.</p> + +<p class="normal">"I don't know where Becker is," she began. "It's already dark +and he hasn't returned yet. He has never gone away like this before, never +stopped away so long without saying a word. O God, surely nothing can have +happened to him?" she cried, pressing her +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 291]</span> +hands to her temples with an expression of dread. "Oh, this fear, this fear!"</p> + +<p class="normal">The woman no longer thought of hiding her feelings; there was +a look of wild terror in her eyes, and her agitated voice was full of despair.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa's face had flamed when her mother came into the room, but +she turned deadly pale now. She did not answer, but she gazed at her mother as +though she were trying to read her soul.</p> + +<p class="normal">A shot was heard in the Przykop. Mrs. Tiralla gave a shrill +scream.</p> + +<p class="normal">"A gamekeeper is shooting," said Rosa.</p> + +<p class="normal">"They surely can't have hit him? Oh, if he were in the Przykop +and they had wounded him? But that"--Mrs. Tiralla gave an excited laugh--"would +not be the worst. If only he comes back, if only he comes back! Do you think he +could go away without saying good-bye?" she asked her daughter eagerly, casting +an imploring glance at her. If only the girl would say, "He'll come back, +mother, don't grieve, he'll come back to you." If only Rosa with her innocent +lips would beseech the Almighty to give him back to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray, my child," stammered Mrs. Tiralla, as she pressed her +daughter's folded hands between her own. "Pray. Let us pray together."</p> + +<p class="normal">A convulsive movement passed over Rosa's pure face. It looked +as though she were going to thrust her mother away. But the struggle only lasted +a moment. Fixing her eyes on a crucifix that she had hung over her bed, she said +with shining eyes, "What shall I say?" just as she had spoken as a child, when +her mother, tortured and full of hate, had knelt in the evenings at her bedside +and wakened her with her tears and sighs.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 292]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"Pray, pray."</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rosa's voice had lost its childish cadence; the clear, +silvery ring had gone, and there was something austere and coolly calm in it +now. "What do you wish me to say?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, you know," groaned her mother. "Pray for him--oh, my +fear, my fear. Pray that he may return to me. Child, my child, pray for me."</p> + +<p class="normal">Freeing herself from her mother's clinging hands Rosa began to +repeat the <i>Salve Regina</i>. "Hail, Queen, Mother of mercy. Thou our life, +our sweetness, our hope, hail!" Her voice gradually rose and lost more and more +of its cool austerity, as though she were intoxicating herself with the sweet +beauty of the words, until it became warm and soft and melting as she said, "To +Thee we call, to Thee we sigh, as we grieve and weep in this vale of tears." And +then passing from the Salve to another prayer, she raised her voice in fervent +supplication until it almost became a cry, "Be gracious to him! Spare him! +Deliver him from all evil, from all sin!"</p> + +<p class="normal">"Be gracious to him--spare him--deliver him!" repeated her +mother mechanically. She did not know what she was praying, she did not +understand that the words her daughter had been repeating were from the litany +for a departing soul.</p> + +<p class="normal">"We, poor sinners, pray Thee to hear us." The mother and +daughter mingled their voices in fervent prayer, whilst the words, "Martin, +Martin, what has become of you?" echoed in their hearts and rose like a twofold +cry from the narrow little room that was gradually growing darker and darker.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Stop, stop!" The woman sobbed aloud, she could not pray any +longer. She threw her arms round her daughter's neck and wept. "Rosa, Rosa, he's +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 293]</span> +not coming back. Rosa, darling,"--she pressed wild kisses on her daughter's face +that was uplifted so piously--"pray, pray--how am I to thank you? No, don't pray +any more, rather tell me--hark, there he is!"</p> + +<p class="normal">In a second she was on her feet, and had rushed to the door, +which closed with a bang behind her.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa remained alone in the darkness.</p> + +<p class="normal">She heard Martin's voice downstairs, and then Mikolai--and +then her mother's happy laugh.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Rosa continued to pray fervently; it was as though she +were holding fast to the words of her prayer. The stars had long ago come out +above the farm, the new moon was just over the gable, but she still lay on her +knees praying. But now it was a soft whisper to the Lord, a blissful communing +with the Bridegroom of her soul.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">It was night at Starydwór. The moon had disappeared, and black +clouds, driven along by the boisterous wind, were chasing each other over the +house-top and hiding the stars.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla was sitting alone in his room. It was really time +for him to go to bed, but there was nobody to assist him; Marianna had not come, +and he was unable to go to bed alone. At first he had moaned and growled, but +now he was calm. The few thoughts he had left were creeping after the servant. +Ha, ha! how she was racing; she was running to meet a sweetheart. It amused him +to picture her to himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">What a good thing it was that his thoughts were his own, that +they had not taken them from him as well as everything, everything else. He made +a grimace as he clenched his fists. "That woman!" +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 294]</span> +There she had stood--there at the writing-desk, and had wanted to steal his +money--no, not his money, the powders, his powders. They were worth more than +money. She had wanted to get him out of the way by the help of them. Ha, ha!--he +chuckled to himself--but he had hidden them well, she would not be able to find +them now.</p> + +<p class="normal">Next time little Böhnke came he would show him where he had +hidden those dear, precious things--no, he would not even show little Böhnke, +for who knows, perhaps they would make his mouth water, and he would kill him so +as to get them, and then eat them all up himself.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Now, now, little Böhnke," said the man, shaking his finger at +an imaginary person in the corner of the room. Then he added, "No, I'm not angry +with you, in spite of your not having been to see me for so long. Take a seat, +brother, there, sit down." He dragged a chair nearer with his heavy foot, and +smiled at the schoolmaster, who was sitting near him with such a pale face and +such hollow eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Drink, friend, drink," said Mr. Tiralla, as he seized his +glass and finished it in one gulp. "Pooh!" He made a gesture of distaste. It did +not taste at all nice--or did it taste nice? "No, no!" He raised his fist and +struck the glass so hard that it broke into pieces. There, that did him good. +Now <i>that</i> enemy could not harm him again.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Ha, ha!" He chuckled to himself again, and did not notice +that the blood was trickling down his finger. "Why are you so quiet, little +Böhnke?"</p> + +<p class="normal">No answer. But the wind moaned round the house and rushed down +the chimney screeching, "Oo-hoo, oo-hoo," like an owl.</p> + +<p class="normal">The man had been accustomed all his life to this +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 295]</span> +wintry music round Starydwór, but now it terrified him. He attempted to make the +sign of the cross and glanced round timidly. The schoolmaster had gone, he was +alone, quite, quite alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Who's there?" He started up in terror; he wanted to scream, +but he could only utter a few inarticulate sounds. Somebody had opened the door. +He blinked and tried to discover who the intruder was, but his eyes had grown +very dim. Somebody was coming in, but it was not little Böhnke. Who else could +be coming to see him? A man--a woman?</p> + +<p class="normal">"You?" he shouted, seizing hold of the bottle so as to defend +himself with it. What did Sophia want? Was she coming to kill him now in the +night? He hurled the bottle and it broke into bits on the floor.</p> + +<p class="normal">"It's I, father," said Rosa, and she knelt down and collected +the broken pieces of glass.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh, it's you." He drew a long breath. Yes, now he could see +it, it might be Rosa. The lamplight fell on her curly, reddish hair, and he bent +a little forward as she knelt before him and took hold of it. "No, it's not +Sophia," he said with a sigh of relief. But he was still suspicious. "What--what +do you want?" he stammered.</p> + +<p class="normal">She was glad to think that he at least recognized her. How +unutterably heavy her heart felt. She had knelt in her room until her knees had +ached, and had prayed and prayed. There had been no Marianna to groan on account +of her everlasting whispering and sighing, for the girl had gone out. And when +she had at last finished her prayers, she had sat down on her bed with her hands +folded and waited patiently until there was not a sound downstairs. She wished +to speak to her father quite alone, without being disturbed by any one. And if +he had already gone to bed, she +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 296]</span> +would sit down on his bed. How often she had had to do that as a child, and he +had always been so affectionate to her in those days. Then she would say +"Daddy," and stroke his hair as she used to do. Oh, she was quite sure it would +be all right, for she had been praying for it so fervently.</p> + +<p class="normal">But when her father stared at her with his dull, yet fierce +eyes, she lost her assurance. "I wanted--I----" she stammered. She would have +liked to cry aloud, he looked so awful. No, that was not her daddy, whose hair +she had smoothed, on whose cheeks she had imprinted kisses--first on the right +cheek and then on the left--her daddy who had called her, "My star, my little +red-haired girl, my wee birdie, my sun, the key which is to open the door of +heaven for me, my consolation."</p> + +<p class="normal">She did not know how to begin, so she sat on the other chair +near the table and gazed at him intently with her sad eyes. She had thrown the +pieces of glass, which she had collected in her apron, into the peat basket near +the stove, and now she wrapped her apron round her hands, for she shivered with +cold, although the room was so stifling. What she had undertaken to do was too +difficult after all; oh, it was her dread of him that made her feel so cold. She +had never, never seen anything so horrible as this man who was her father. He +used to be big, but now he seemed to have grown small; his coat was much too +large for him across the shoulders and hung round him. A horrid grin made his +lips droop, and his purple nose positively shone in his pale face, that was of a +dirty yellow colour. The rims of his eyelids were puffy and turned outwards. But +the worst of all was his eyes. Oh, those eyes!</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa felt as though she must protect herself from +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 297]</span> +that well-nigh lifeless glance, which at that moment, however, had something +glittering, even brutish, in it.</p> + +<p class="normal">What was her father thinking of? Whom did he take her for? She +gave a start. "Ha, ha! Marianna," he chuckled, stretching out a shaking finger +towards her.</p> + +<p class="normal">He touched her. "Ha, ha!--hope you're enjoying yourself--ha, +ha!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She had to keep a firm hold of herself so as not to scream +aloud, and her hands closed over each other tightly under her apron. The mere +fact of folding her hands calmed her. She had so often prayed for strength, and +she was sure that He would not forsake her now. She felt as though she were the +maiden whom she had been so fond of reading about in the book of holy legends, +who had entered the fierce lion's cage undismayed, and had gladly given her +blood for the sake of her Heavenly Bridegroom.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Lord Jesus," she cried loudly and fervently, then, pressing +her folded hands to her heart, she smiled at her father. "Daddy, my daddy."</p> + +<p class="normal">For a few seconds the old man's grin grew even broader, but +then his face became calm. Daddy? He looked at his daughter in astonishment and +stammered, "Little Böhnke has gone--who's speaking--so kindly?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"I, Rosa."</p> + +<p class="normal">He shook his head peevishly. "Don't want her."</p> + +<p class="normal">A happy thought struck her. Laying her trembling hand on his, +she said in a low, persuasive voice, "It's I, Röschen, your little star, your +red-haired girl, your wee birdie, your----" the tears welled into her eyes; she +gulped them down bravely, but her voice choked.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then he continued, "My sun, the key which is to +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 298]</span> +open heaven's door for me--ah!"--he smirked as though he remembered something, +and then added as tenderly as he could in his husky, faltering voice, "my +consolation." He looked at her, felt her hair as he had done before, and passed +his hands over her as she stood before him tall and slender, for she had jumped +up from her knees in her bitter, painful emotion. "Too big--too big--you're not +my wee one, not my little daughter--Röschen--my sun--my consolation." And he +looked down at the floor and smiled, as if a tiny little girl were standing +there, who was not yet big enough to reach up to the table.</p> + +<p class="normal">"But I <i>am</i> Röschen," said the girl quickly, as she +seized hold of his hands with her feeble ones, and pressed and shook them as if +she wanted to bring him to his senses in that way.</p> + +<p class="normal">He continued, however, to speak to an imaginary little child +on the floor, as though he were mad or intoxicated. "Are you coming to daddy? +Poor daddy is always alone, quite alone since little Böhnke has gone." Then he +added in a mysterious, almost unintelligible whisper, "Sophia is going to kill +him--they'll all help to kill him--poor Mr. Tiralla." He shook his head +miserably.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Father, I--I'm with you--I'll stop with you," cried Rosa, +shaken by his plaint. What awful things he imagined, poor, unhappy man. "I'll +help you. And the Lord will help you, and His most Holy Mother Mary," she added +solemnly, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead and breast as well as +on her own. "May the Lord help you and us." And then she said resolutely and +courageously--what was the good of hesitating? Had she not promised Mikolai to +do it and also prayed about it?--"What you've been saying is not true, daddy. +Nobody is going to do you any +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 299]</span> +harm, neither mother nor anybody eke. You're not kind to mother. You're talking +nonsense. Look, here is your Röschen, feel my hands." She put her dry, burning +hands round his wrists. "As true as I stand here, I swear that you've nothing to +fear, we all lov----"--no, she must not lie, so she quickly corrected +herself--"we all mean you well. Daddy, oh, my daddy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She let go of his wrists and impulsively pressed her hands to +his cheeks, as she had so often done when she was small and her fingers had +seemed no bigger than the legs of a fly that played about on his fat cheeks. +"Oh, my dear daddy, if only you would stop drinking. Everything, everything +would be better then. Then mother would no longer"--she suddenly stopped and the +colour mounted to her brow; she did not mention her mother again. But her voice +sounded so honest and convincing as she continued, "Then you would never have +cause to fear any more. You would see then that nobody wishes you ill. And how +happy Mikolai would be if you were to go into the stables and fields again, and +talk to him about the work on the farm. Poor Mikolai, his friend is going away +and he'll be so lonely. And you would feel much better yourself. You wouldn't +cough so much--Marianna says you spit blood--you would be happy again; you +wouldn't sit alone in this room any more, and you would see the wheat and the +oats and the red clover that smells so sweet. Just think of it, daddy!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She grew quite hot in her eagerness; at that moment she forgot +all about her convent and that she would not be at Starydwór to see the +improvement. And then as the last and best promise she said, "And you would +still be saved, daddy; God in heaven would forgive your sins." Her eyes shone as +she looked at +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 300]</span> +him, as though she wanted to infect him with some of her own radiant happiness.</p> + +<p class="normal">But his eyes did not shine. He was looking down in a +dull-witted way and merely muttered, "Yes, you're Rosa."</p> + +<p class="normal">Ah! now he knew her. The saints be praised, that was a big +step forward. Putting her sweet face close to his, and without shrinking back +from the poisonous breath that almost suffocated her, she whispered, "And Rosa +will love you again, daddy; love you so dearly if you'll only leave off +drinking." She pointed to a full bottle standing on the table next to an empty +one, and some of the holy fury of the converters who used to fell oaks and +shatter idols came over her. Raising her voice till it sounded almost triumphant +she cried, "Throw it away, so that it breaks on the floor like the other bottle! +Then the horrid gin will run between the boards down into the earth, down into +hell, where it belongs. The evil thing will have gone, and we, father, we'll +pray and give thanks."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Listen!" She fell on her knees beside him and piously raised +her hands. "Do you hear? The angels in heaven, with your guardian angel at their +head, are shouting, 'Hallelujah'."</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla mumbled something unintelligible.</p> + +<p class="normal">Rosa did not hear it; she heard nothing more, for her soul had +taken wings and flown out of the stifling room. God had heard her, the Lord was +with her. The joy she felt almost overpowered her; her cheeks were wet with the +tears of sweet exhaustion that comes when every nerve has been strained. What +were all the joys of the world compared to the joy of saving her father and of +delivering his soul from perdition? She buried her face in her hands, and a +tremor passed over her.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 301]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">There was silence in the room, but the storm was whistling and +howling outside.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had seized the bottle, but not to hurl it on the +ground as Rosa had bidden him; he clasped it nervously to his breast, as if it +were a priceless treasure that must be taken care of.</p> + +<p class="normal">So they even wanted to rob him of that, the last thing he +possessed? He would not let them take it from him, he would rather die. "<i>Psia +krew!</i>" He swore so loudly that he startled his daughter.</p> + +<p class="normal">Awakened out of her trance of bliss, Rosa saw with horror that +her father was holding the bottle to his lips and drinking, drinking, +hiccoughing and groaning, until he could drink no more, until the gin ran out +again at the corners of his mouth. He sighed when he had to leave off; but he +did not put the bottle on the table again, he hid it under his jersey.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Go--go, girl," he growled angrily, and glared at her with +malevolent eyes. "What do you want from me? My precious bottle"--he patted the +place where he had hidden it--"you're the best friend I've got now. Come, my +love, don't cry," he said, pinching Rosa's cheek as she sobbed. His spirits had +improved since he knew the bottle was safe.</p> +<br><div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="continue">"My darling girl,<br> +Why are you weeping?"</p> +</div><br> + +<p class="continue">he croaked huskily. Then he grinned. His Rosa would soon get +married now, would soon have children, many little grandchildren-girls as small +as this one, and he gazed once more at the floor. There she was, the little girl +who could not reach up to the table. He had long ago chosen a fine, handsome +husband for his Rosa. "Look out, he'll soon be coming now." He nudged his +daughter with his elbow, and blinked at her with the same expression in his eyes +as when he +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 302]</span> +had been thinking of Marianna. Then he chuckled to himself. What a joke, what a +joke! He tried to slap his knee, but he could not; all at once his arm felt +paralyzed, as heavy as lead, and his tongue obeyed him even less than his arm. +He stretched it out after every sound, but the sounds would not form themselves +into words; his furred tongue trembled the whole time.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, what did her father want? Rosa was terrified. How horridly +he looked at her with his blood-shot eyes, and why did he wag his tongue like +that? "Speak!" she implored him in her terror. "What did you want to say? Do +speak."</p> + +<p class="normal">But he took no more notice of her, his eyes were fixed on the +door. The man he had chosen for his little daughter must come that way. He +stared and grinned, and then turned up the whites of his eyes. At that moment +something cracked either in the wall or stove that sounded like a knock. Aha! he +was knocking already.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Come in." All at once Mr. Tiralla's tongue again obeyed him. +Look! was that not Becker, slender and nice-looking, who embraced Rosa with a +bridegroom's impatience?</p> + +<p class="normal">The drunken man sat grinning, as one picture after the other +flashed across his sick brain. "Very good, very good," he mumbled, smacking his +lips. He gave Rosa a push, "Come, kiss him too, it's Becker, you know. Handsome +fellow, good fellow, isn't he? Sweet little bride. I'll look the other way." He +gave a hoarse laugh, that came from his throat like a hiccough, and put his hand +to his eyes; but he peeped underneath it. "Young Martin, young Rosa--many little +ones--one--two--three." He made a fearful grimace as he showed their heights a +little above the +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 303]</span> +floor. "Grandpa Tiralla is glad--many, many--little Martins, little Rosas--all +going to console him--aha!"</p> + +<p class="normal">He attempted to pat Rosa and draw her on his knee, but she +thrust him away with a cry of shame and aversion. Pressing her hands to her ears +and closing her eyes tightly she rushed out of the room.</p> + +<p class="normal">The madman followed her with astonished eyes. Who was that? +"Hi, hi!"</p> + +<p class="normal">No answer; he was quite alone.</p> + +<p class="normal">Ugh! what was that? He stared at his fingers, on which there +were several bloody scratches, which he had got from the broken pieces of glass. +He suddenly felt that they hurt.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Blood--blood!" he stammered, terrified, holding his hand up +to his swollen eyes. They had wanted to murder him. "Help!" He screamed and +stamped about the room.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Martin Becker heard the cry for help as he sat up in bed with +open eyes. Where did it come from? But he did not attempt to find out, he felt +as though he were rooted to the spot. A strange horror paralyzed him. He had not +even been able to sleep until midnight, he had lain awake for hours listening, +and his nerves were so excited that he could hear all kinds of things. What was +that stealing softly down the stairs? Had it not stopped outside his door--or +had it crept further along the passage? Oh God, it was she, she, and she would +not let him go!</p> + +<p class="normal">What was it crying so, sobbing, whimpering like a terrified +child, and groping along the walls? Hark, something was crunching the sand in +the passage, the stairs were creaking. Was that the front door that +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 304]</span> +rattled? Something was moving about the whole time.</p> + +<p class="normal">"All good spirits!" The man made the sign of the cross as he +murmured the words, and then crept further down under the feather bed. Why, it +could not be half as bad as this in a battle. Much rather face a cannon's mouth +than that eye--the eye he imagined was fixed on him in the dark.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Mikolai!" he called, but his friend only muttered in his +sleep. How soundly he was sleeping. It would have been so easy now to get up and +go away, Mikolai would not have heard, and he could have escaped so easily--and +still. Martin lost courage, he dared not do it. Rather leave in the daytime, in +open defiance if it must be, by force, than go into that dark passage where +there were ghosts and whisperings.</p> + +<p class="normal">Martin did not know what it was to fear a human being, but he +feared ghosts at night. And they were spirits of darkness that raged in that +house, he felt sure. So he remained in bed with anger in his heart at his own +cowardice, and still not able to conquer it. He would go next day in broad +daylight, even if he had to leave his box behind with everything it contained, +his dear keepsakes and precious belongings. He would leave Starydwór next day. +He stuck his fingers into his ears; the whole house, the night, all the air +seemed to be filled with meanings. God be praised--at last! Then he fell asleep, +and heard nothing more.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla had moved along by the walls of his room. He ran +like a restless animal in a cage; not quickly--he could not do that--but to and +fro as though in despair. "Rosa, Röschen," he called in a +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 305]</span> +loud voice. It seemed to him that she had been with him, but he did not know for +certain. And that was what he was pondering over now. How awful it was not to be +able to recollect anything! She had been such a dear little girl--she had once +been his little daughter--but she was that no longer, for she, his consolation, +had thrust him away from her. Alas, alas! It was very sad.</p> + +<p class="normal">He puckered up his face and began to cry. Now he had nothing +to console him, everything was gone. "Everything dr--dru--nk up," he stammered, +sobbing. All at once he understood things clearly; no, he had nothing more in +this world.</p> + +<p class="normal">Where was Starydwór? It had not belonged to him for a long +time, he neither went sowing nor reaping, it was not his any longer.</p> + +<p class="normal">He had no wife, no children, no friend, and no God. The +Almighty would not have anything more to do with him. He had forgotten all, all +his prayers; he had ceased to go to confession; he belonged to hell.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Poor Ti--Ti--Ti----" he said sadly, as he struck his breast +with his trembling finger. He could not even recollect his own name--that had +been forgotten too. He had nothing, nothing whatever.</p> + +<p class="normal">Oh, yes, he had. He put his hands to his shaking head, that +never kept quiet for a moment. He had saved something, hidden something like a +dog his bone. He would go to it now. And even if his father were to beat him +afterwards and say, "Boy, why do you eat unripe fruit?" still, what was hidden +behind the loose stone in the wall would taste good.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mr. Tiralla walked to the door; he had suddenly recovered the +use of his limbs. He shuffled and staggered, but still he went on. It was a +wonder that he succeeded in opening the front door, which was +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 306]</span> +looked, but all at once he had become possessed of strength in his fingers and +strength of will too.</p> + +<p class="normal">The wind in the yard knocked him down. He fell full length, +but picked himself up again. "<i>Dalej</i>, <i>dalej!</i>" Quiet, very quiet--no +lamenting even if he had hurt himself on the stones--so that his father should +not come and seize him by the collar, "Tell me, my son, where are you creeping +off?"</p> + +<p class="normal">"<i>Dalej</i>, <i>dalej!</i>" He was longing to get there. A +bright streak in the sky already cast a faint glimmer of light around. The man +looked about as he groped along. Aha, there was the stable! Aha!</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Mr. Tiralla was happy.</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 307]</span></p> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<br> +<br> +<p class="normal">Marianna was humming a song, although she had been up all +night and the words almost froze on her lips in the calm, cold, wintry air.</p> +<br> +<div style="margin-left:5em"> +<p class="continue">"Black eyes in her head, <br> +Just like me, just like me.</p> + +<p class="continue">Golden hackles on her shoes, <br> +Just like me, just like me.</p> + +<p class="continue">In her pocket not a coin, <br> +Just like----" +</div><br> + +<p class="continue">"Ah!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She yawned and then tried to dance a few steps. How tired she +was. But it had been very nice with Jendrek, he was the best of them all in +spite of everything.</p> + +<p class="normal">She rattled her milk pails merrily as she glided nimbly across +the slippery yard to the stables in her low, creaking shoes.</p> + +<p class="normal">The light was still faint and the air was cold, bitterly cold. +A hard frost had come at daybreak, the first that year, and had touched +everything with its blighting finger. The pools in the unpaved yard, from which +as a rule the rain, dirty water, and melted snow flowed in rivulets to the big +pond in the centre, were now united and formed a single white mirror.</p> + +<p class="normal">The house was still dark and quiet. Marianna's eyes twinkled; +aha, they were all still asleep. Good! +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 308]</span> +then none of them had heard that she had only come home at six that morning. She +had not been up to her room yet to take her best dress off, but it would not +harm it, even if she were to wear it whilst milking for once. Hark! how the cows +were lowing. They were waiting impatiently. But how they would stare when they +saw her in her beautiful, new, red dress, with its many pleats, which she had +got on purpose to do the thing in grand style with Jendrek, and her +spick-and-span new shoes, in which she had danced last night for the first time.</p> + +<p class="normal">The vain girl tittered as she skipped into the stables where +the cattle were lowing dully. "Quiet, quiet there," she said, groping about for +the lantern in order to light it, as it was still rather dark. "Yes, yes, here +she is, here's Marianna. <i>Psia krew</i>, hold your tongues." At that moment +the lantern cast a light around. "Good God!" Breaking off in the midst of her +chatter, the servant let the milk pails fall to the ground with a shrill scream. +Why, the master was lying there! She stood as though rooted to the spot. Oh +dear, how frightened she had been. What was he doing there? What did he mean by +going to sleep there, and frightening people who came unsuspectingly into the +stables out of their wits?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Panje, Panje Tiralla," she called. "Do get up, +<i>gospodarz!</i>"</p> + +<p class="normal">She had come up to him now; he did not move. She gave him a +slight push with the point of her new shoe; how tipsy he was. "Wake up, master," +she said. "Finish your sleep in bed, I'll help you into it." What pleasant +dreams he was having. It seemed to her that there was a smile on his face.</p> + +<p class="normal">She bent over him. "Panje, Paniczek!" She +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 309]</span> +looked at him a little more closely, she felt him--then she began to scream so +that the walls resounded with it; she mingled her screams with the lowing of the +cattle that had started afresh; she screamed still louder, so that she dominated +the lowing, screamed so that it sounded across the yard to the sleeping house +like a trumpet. Mr. Tiralla was icy-cold; he was dead.</p> + +<p class="normal">She tore her hair and behaved as though she were mad--her +master, her good master! Then rushing out of the stables and across the yard she +shouted and shrieked, "Pani, Pani, help! Help, Mr. Mikolai!"</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla came immediately. She had lain awake the whole +night. How could she have slept when her heart trembled between fear and hope, +when at one moment it had seemed to her as though the events of the afternoon +had only been a prelude, as though Martin were going away at once and for ever, +and the next as though he had been given back to her, and Mr. Tiralla were going +away for ever? She had wept and called on the saints. But when the maid's cry +for help brought her downstairs, there was no more fear in her heart. She +surmised that the decisive hour had come, but all she felt was eager curiosity.</p> + +<p class="normal">"What--what? Where--where?" she cried, seizing Marianna by the +arm with a convulsive grip, as the latter came rushing up to her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead, dead!" stammered the girl trembling.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead?" Was Mr. Tiralla dead? But tell me then. The woman +shook the screaming servant with wild impatience.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Oh dear, oh dear, my good master is dead," howled the maid. +"He's lying in the stables without saying a word."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Show me."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 310]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">They rushed over to the stables. There lay Mr. Tiralla as the +maid had left him; he had not moved. Marianna made the sign of the cross over +him and wanted to fold his hands, but Mrs. Tiralla pushed her aside--"Leave +him!" What had he got there? The woman's eyes dilated; he was clenching a small +box in one hand, a box she knew very well. The lid had fallen on the ground, and +the powders wrapped in paper had been torn out and were lying beside him near a +brick on which there was a cobweb. She stared open-mouthed--rat poison! Look, +there was the grinning death's head above the cross-bones!</p> + +<p class="normal">In the other hand the dead man was still holding an empty +paper, and some grains of sugar still clung to the wild-looking stubble on his +sunken chin.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Jesus! Mary! Joseph!" The widow threw herself on her knees, +made the sign of the cross, and bent her forehead to the ground. "I give his +soul to you." Her lips continued to move in prayer, whilst her thoughts flew on. +So he had got some of the poison after all? He had kept it hidden--<i>she</i> +had not known where--he had taken some of it himself--pilfered some of it like a +boy pilfers sugar--he had died of it.</p> + +<p class="normal">She made the sign of the cross again and again. "Holy Mary, +reconcile him to Thy Son, commend him to Thy Son, bring him to Thy Son." The +saints had willed it, the saints had been gracious to him--and to her too.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mrs. Tiralla could not help it, but she no longer felt the +slightest animosity towards the man lying there. She touched his forehead with +her lips, then folded his hands and tried to close his eyes, "May he rest in +peace."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she sent the weeping servant to fetch his +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 311]</span> +children whilst she remained on her knees alone with the dead. She felt no fear. +It was as though a light had risen for her in the dark stables, and as though +she must thank the dead man for it as well as the saints.</p> + +<p class="normal">Mikolai was not so calm, the calamity had affected him deeply. +His father, his old father. And he had died in all his sins without the +consecrated candle, without a priest, and without absolution. He could not +compose himself, he sobbed so.</p> + +<p class="normal">He and Marianna vied with each other in weeping. He and she +had carried Mr. Tiralla into the house, and their tears had fallen on him like +warm rain, drop by drop, a constant flow.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="space">* * * * * * * * * * * * *</span></p> + +<p class="normal">The sun had risen over Starydwór when Martin Becker awoke, +disturbed by sobbing and wailing. He had slept very heavily. He had been so +exhausted by emotion and the decision that he had arrived at after a long +struggle that he had not heard Mikolai run out of the room when the maid's loud +screams had awakened him, but had slept on like a peaceful child. He finished +dressing. He was still so sleepy that he could not understand why he had gone to +bed in trousers and socks. But then his eye fell on his box that stood packed +and corded. Then he remembered everything. He braced himself up and left the +room to announce his intention to Mikolai. Why were they weeping and wailing so?</p> + +<p class="normal">Marianna ran past him in the passage. She pointed to the door +leading into the big room with a convulsive sob, "Holy Mother, holy Mother!" +What was the matter with her? What had happened? An accident? The blood suddenly +rushed to his head; had +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 312]</span> +anything happened to Mrs. Tiralla? Of course not--he shook off the sense of +oppression which was overpowering him--she did not know yet that he intended +leaving that day.</p> + +<p class="normal">He went into the room from whence the weeping came. It was +half-dark, the shutters were closed, and the only light in the room came from +the candles burning on the table. He distinguished some dark figures kneeling by +a bed, and on the bed an outstretched figure under a white sheet. He started and +pressed his hand to his brow; he felt terrified. Who was dead?</p> + +<p class="normal">At that moment Mrs. Tiralla came towards him with outstretched +hand. "Mr. Tiralla is dead," she said.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Dead--dead?" he stammered. Her voice had sounded almost +triumphant. He did not grasp it all at once, it was not a thing that could be +turned over in the mind so quickly. He shuddered, and swiftly made the sign of +the cross. A dead person in the house! And the woman could say it so calmly, and +gaze at him with such a radiant look that the black in her eyes illuminated the +darkness like a sunbeam.</p> + +<p class="normal">The young fellow had a feeling as though he must turn round +and run away. He was still hesitating when the woman drew him forcibly towards +her, and he felt her icy-cold fingers gripping his wrist.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Martin, Martin," she whispered softly in his ear, "he's dead, +now you needn't go." Her voice was only just audible, for Mikolai and Rosa were +kneeling at the bedside.</p> + +<p class="normal">But Martin had not noticed them. "I shall have to go all the +same," he said aloud, without looking at her. "When Mr. Tiralla is buried, I +shall go. Holy +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 313]</span> +Mother, pray for us, now and in the hour of death!" Making the sign of the cross +he stepped up to the bed, knelt down beside Rosa without noticing her in his +consternation, and quickly repeated a silent prayer.</p> + +<p class="normal">Whilst kneeling there he heard an angel praying softly. That +must be Rosa. Now he saw her. And when he had finished his prayer and made the +sign of the cross, he pressed her hand and then Mikolai's.</p> + +<p class="normal">The three put their heads together like the terrified lambs of +a flock over which a storm is raging. "Eternal rest give to him, Lord," +whispered Rosa, and the two men murmured in response, "and let perpetual light +shine upon him."</p> + +<p class="normal">Then Martin got up from his knees and went to the door. He +longed to be doing something, for there is always much to see to in a house +where death has entered, and he had once more a warm, living feeling of how good +Mikolai had always been to him, and how much he liked both the sister and the +brother. Somebody would have to run to the village to tell Father Szypulski +first of all, and if possible bring him quickly to the farm, and then--but the +woman barred the way.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Where are you going?" Her voice no longer sounded firm, it +was trembling.</p> + +<p class="normal">He tried to pass her without answering--no, she should not +hold him again.</p> + +<p class="normal">But she followed him into the passage, where she again seized +hold of him. "I shall not let you go, tell me first where you're going."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Into the village. Let me go, I tell you," He turned his head +aside defiantly, so as to avoid her eyes.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Swear that you'll come back," she whispered hoarsely, "swear +by God Almighty, by Mr. Tiralla lying dead in there."</p> + +<p class="continue"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 314]</span></p> + +<p class="normal">"I will not swear." He pushed her away.</p> + +<p class="normal">Then she threw herself on his breast, and her arms held him +like chains. '"Look at me, why do you turn your dear face away? Look at me, it's +I, darling, I, whom you love so. Mr. Tiralla is dead."</p> + +<p class="normal">She no longer spoke in a whisper, she no longer took care that +her words should remain inaudible to others, and her voice sounded loud in the +echoing passage. "I'm a widow now. I'm free now. Don't go! All I possess shall +be yours. And it's no sin if we love each other. I beg of you, I implore you, +don't go! Stop, my darling, my Martin, stop!"</p> + +<p class="normal">She slid down and embraced his knees, sobbing; she pressed her +face that was wet with tears against his clothes. "Why are you so cold; why +don't you speak to me? What have I done to you?"</p> + +<p class="normal">He stood like a tree without bending. "You've not done +anything to me," he murmured at last, gloomily. "Not to me, but----" "I've not +done anything to him either," she cried, jumping up eagerly and pointing to the +door. Then she raised her fingers as though taking an oath. "I swear that I'm +innocent, quite innocent; he, he took it himself. I swear by God I've not----" +"Don't swear." He caught hold of her raised hand and pulled it down. "You must +not swear."</p> + +<p class="normal">"Why not?" She stood erect before him with sparkling eyes and +head thrown back. "Ask Marianna, ask Mikolai; he, Mr. Tiralla, took the poison +himself in the stables; we found it still in his hand. I--I"--she struck her +breast and again raised her fingers to swear--"I'm innocent of it. The saints +have willed it."</p> + +<p class="normal">He looked her full in the face scrutinizingly, as though he +would pierce her with his eyes. "The +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 315]</span> +saints have willed it," he repeated, then, as though reconciling himself to the +fact. But when she attempted to seize his hand in her elation--ah, he still +loved her after all, he could not leave her--he shook his head and looked away +from her in fear. "Even if it were heaven on earth here, I would not stop," he +whispered. "I see that man"--pointing to the door--"the whole time before my +eyes. He must separate us, so help me God. Good-bye."</p> + +<p class="normal">He held out his hand to her, although he could hardly bring +himself to do it. All at once he feared her hand, it was as though something +were dragging him away from it. "I prefer to go immediately. Mikolai is there, +he'll arrange everything for you. I cannot--cannot stay any longer." And he +rushed out of the door and into the yard.</p> + +<p class="normal">She stood there as if turned to stone, and her eyes were +fixed. What, he was going after all? Mr. Tiralla was dead and yet he was going +to leave her?</p> + +<p class="normal">"Martin!" she screamed shrilly, rushing after him. He ran like +a stag and she like a hind. "Martin, Martin!" But she could not reach him.</p> + +<p class="normal">Purgatory and Hell were flaming behind Martin Becker and +Eternal Salvation was beckoning to him. So he ran as he had never done before, +without coat or hat, and but thinly clad for such a raw day. He would let +everything remain behind, box and belongings, everything he called his own, he +did not want anything more from Starydwór, for sin was cleaving to it, sin that +clave like blood.</p> + +<p class="normal">He ran through the fields like a boy who has lost his way and +is trying to get home to his mother.</p> + +<p class="normal">She saw him ran, but she could not follow him further, she +sank down at the gate. She crouched in the frozen snow with a low cry. How red +everything +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 316]</span> +looked. Was it blood that had been spilt? She shuddered as she gazed around like +one demented. Or was it the wintry sun that had dyed everything red? Yes--she +drew a deep breath--oh, yes, it was only the sun. The whole sky was aglow, and +it was that which made the glistening snow look red.</p> + +<p class="normal">She would implore the saints to help her. But she could not +rise, her ankles felt broken, so she slid on her knees to the grating in the +wall, behind which stood the image of the Holy Mother with her Child. The +withered wreath was still there, which she had made of corn and flowers and +clover, and hung up on a happy day.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Bring him back, oh, bring him back," whispered the woman +beseechingly, and then burst out sobbing. The saints had helped her once, why +should they not do so again? Innumerable tears rolled down her cold cheeks and +turned to ice on her bosom. She prayed and wrung her hands. She begged for the +return of the one as she had formerly begged for the death of the other. One +prayer had been granted; Mr. Tiralla was dead. And she knelt there +guiltless--for who, who could say that she was to blame?</p> + +<p class="normal">She looked around with wild eyes. At that moment she saw +somebody standing before her, between heaven and earth, accusing her.</p> + +<p class="normal">"No!" she shrieked, stretching out her arms. How dared he +accuse her? Was it she, she, who had given Mr. Tiralla poison? And even if she +had attempted to do so before, the poison had no longer been poison in her +hands, for the mushrooms had not harmed him, and the corn had not harmed the +poultry. "No, I'm innocent, quite innocent of it." The saints had willed it, +they had put into his mind to take some of the powder and swallow it. And they +had willed +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 317]</span> +that he should die of it. So his death had been decided upon in heaven.</p> + +<p class="normal">Folding her hands once more the woman prayed in a whining, +fervent voice; would the saints not fulfil her second prayer too, and bring back +the man who had fled from her?</p> + +<p class="normal">Her thoughts grew more and more confused. Now she saw Martin +Becker, now Mr. Tiralla, and then the angel with the flaming sword. She cowered; +alas, alas, was he going to punish her with its sharp edge?</p> + +<p class="normal">But suddenly the sword fell from the angel's hand, and lay +gleaming in the snow. He laid his cool hand on her burning brow--oh, that was no +longer the cherubim who drives sinners out of the Garden of Eden, that was Rosa, +Rosa's hand, and that was her dress.</p> + +<p class="normal">"Help, help!" cried the woman, clinging to her daughter as +though she were awaking out of a frightful dream. "You help me. Shall I be lost? +Oh, speak! Help, you help me!"</p> + +<p class="normal">And her daughter answered, "I'll pray for you day and night. +Calm yourself, mother, I'll intercede for you." She laid both her hands on the +woman writhing in despair, and it was as though a soothing stream, as though a +mighty saving flood, proceeded from those delicate, yet firm hands.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was no longer Rosa, her young daughter, the delicate +girl, who now stood with erect head before the sinner imploring help, and seemed +to be visibly growing bigger and bigger. And that was no longer Rosa's voice. It +was a more powerful voice, which dominated the howling and whistling of the +wind.</p> + +<p class="normal">That was the Bride of Christ. But not the humble, longing +maiden; it was the Bride of Christ, the powerful +<span class="pagenum">[Pg 318]</span> Church herself, whose voice resounds over +the plains as far as the church steeple in Starawieś, and further, much further, +resounds powerfully throughout the whole world:</p> + +<p class="center"> "<i>Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis!</i>"</p> + + + +<h3>THE END</h3> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Absolution, by Clara Viebig + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ABSOLUTION *** + +***** This file should be named 30724-h.htm or 30724-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/7/2/30724/ + +Produced by Charles Bowen + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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