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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35456-0.txt b/35456-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..179af7a --- /dev/null +++ b/35456-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5485 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +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: Tales by Polish Authors + +Author: Various + +Translator: Else C. M. Benecke + +Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS + + + London + SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., LTD. + + + New York + LONGMANS, GREEN & Co. + FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET + + + + + TALES + + BY + + POLISH AUTHORS + + + HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + STEFAN ŻEROMSKI ADAM SZYMAŃSKI + WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + + TRANSLATED BY + ELSE C. M. BENECKE + + + Oxford + + B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET + + 1915 + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + +Of the contemporary Polish authors represented in this volume only +Henryk Sienkiewicz is well known in England. Although the works of +Stefan Żeromski, Adam Szymański, and Wacław Sieroszewski are widely +read in Poland, none have as yet appeared in English, so far as the +present translator is aware. 'Srul--from Lubartów' is generally +considered one of the most striking of Adam Szymański's Siberian +'Sketches.' The author writes from personal experience, having himself +been banished to Siberia for a number of years. The same can be said +of Wacław Sieroszewski; during the fifteen years spent in Siberia as a +political exile, he made a study of some of the native tribes, +especially the Yakut and Tungus, and has written a great deal on this +subject. Stefan Żeromski is also one of the most distinguished modern +Polish novelists; several of his books have been translated into +French and German. + +The translator is under a deep obligation to the authors, MM. +Sienkiewicz, Szymański, and Żeromski, for kindly allowing her to +publish these tales in English, and to Mr. J. H. Retinger, Secretary +of the Polish Bureau in London, for authorising the same on behalf of +M. Sieroszewski. + + E. C. M. B. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + PAGE + Henryk Sienkiewicz: '_Bartek the Conqueror_' 1 + Stefan Żeromski: '_Twilight_' 101 + '_Temptation_' 113 + Adam Szymański: '_Srul--from Lubartów_' 119 + Wacław Sieroszewski: '_In Autumn_' 137 + '_In Sacrifice to the Gods_' 163 + + + + +POLISH PRONUNCIATION: + + + After k, rz = English sh. + sz = English sh + cz = English ch + ł = English w + w = English v + + + + +BARTEK THE CONQUEROR + +HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + + +CHAPTER I + +My hero's name was Bartek Słowik[1]; but owing to his habit of staring +when spoken to, the neighbours called him 'Bartek Goggle-Eyes.' +Indeed, he had little in common with nightingales, and his +intellectual qualities and truly childish _naïveté_ won him the +further nickname of 'Bartek the Blockhead.' This last was the most +popular, in fact, the only one handed down to history, though Bartek +bore yet a fourth,--an official--name. Since the Polish words 'man' +and 'nightingale'[2] present no difference to a German ear, and the +Germans love to translate Barbarian Proper names into a more cultured +language in the cause of civilization, the following conversation took +place when he was being entered as a recruit. + +'What is your name?' the officer asked Bartek. + +'Słowik.' + +'Szloik[3] _Ach, ja, gut._' + +And the officer wrote down 'Man.' + +Bartek came from the village of Pognębin, a name given to a great many +villages in the Province of Posen and in other parts of Poland. First +of all there was he himself, not to mention his land, his cottage and +two cows, his own piebald horse, and his wife, Magda. Thanks to this +combination of circumstances he was able to live comfortably, and +according to the maxim contained in the verse: + + To him whom God would bless He gives, of course, + A wife called Magda and a piebald horse. + +In fact, all his life he had taken whatever Providence sent without +troubling about it. But just now Providence had ordained war, and +Bartek was not a little upset at this. For news had come that the +Reserves would be called up, and that it would be necessary to leave +his cottage and land, and entrust it all to his wife's care. People at +Pognębin were poor enough already. Bartek usually worked at the +factory in the winter and helped his household on in this way;--but +what would happen now? Who could know when the war with the French +would end? + +Magda, when she had read through the papers, began to swear: + +'May they be damned and die themselves! May they be blinded!--Though +you are a fool--yet I am sorry for you. The French give no quarter; +they will chop off your head, I dare say.' + +Bartek felt that his wife spoke the truth. He feared the French like +fire, and was sorry for himself on this account. What had the French +done to him? What was he going after there,--why was he going to that +horrible strange land where not a single friendly soul was to be +found? He knew what life at Pognębin was like,--well, it was neither +easy nor difficult, but just such as it was. But now he was being told +to go away, although he knew that it was better to be here than +anywhere else. Still, there was no help for it;--such is fate. Bartek +embraced his wife, and the ten-year old Franek; spat, crossed himself, +and went out of the cottage, Magda following him. They did not take +very tender leave of one another. They both sobbed, he repeating, +'Come, come, hush!' and went out into the road. There they realized +that the same thing which had happened to them had happened to all +Pognębin, for the whole village was astir, and the road was obstructed +by traffic. As they walked to the station, women, children, old men +and dogs followed them. Everyone's heart was heavy; but a few smoked +their pipes with an air of indifference, and some were already +intoxicated. Others were singing with hoarse voices: + + 'Skrzynecki[4] died, alas! + No more his voice is heard; + His hand, bedeckt with rings, + No more shall wield the sword,' + +while one or two of the Germans from Pognębin sang 'Die Wacht am +Rhein' out of sheer fright. All that motley and many-coloured +crowd,--including policemen with glittering bayonets,--moved in file +towards the end of the village with shouts, bustle, and confusion. +Women clung to their 'warriors'' necks and wept; one old woman showed +her yellow teeth and waved her arms in the air; another cried: 'May +the Lord remember our tears!' There were cries of: 'Franek! Kaśka! +Józek! good-bye!' Dogs barked, the church bell rang, the priest even +said the prayers for the dying, since not one of those now going to +the station would return. The war had claimed them all, but the war +would not give them back. The plough would grow rusty in the field, +for Pognębin had declared war against the French. Pognębin could not +acquiesce in the supremacy of Napoleon III, and took to heart the +question of the Spanish succession. The last sounds of the bell +hovered over the crowd, which was already falling out of line. Heads +were bared as they passed the shrine. The light dust rose up from the +road, for the day was dry and fine. Along both sides of the road the +ripening corn, heavy in the ear, rustled and bowed in the gentle gusts +of wind. The larks were twittering in the blue sky, and each warbled +as if fearing he might be forgotten. + +At the station there was a still greater crowd, and more noise and +confusion! Here were men called in from Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, +from Wywłaszczyniec, from Niedola, and Mizerów. The station walls were +covered with proclamations in which war was declared in the Name of +God and the Fatherland: the 'Landwehr' was setting forth to defend +menaced parents, wives and children, cottages and fields. It was +evident that the French bore a special grudge against Pognębin, +Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, Wywłaszczyniec, Niedola, and Mizerów. +Such, at least, was the impression produced on those who read the +placards. Fresh crowds were continually assembling in front of the +station. In the waiting-room the smoke from the men's pipes filled the +air, and hid the placards. It was difficult to make oneself understood +in the noise, for everyone was running, shouting, and screaming. On +the platform orders were given in German. They sounded strangely +brief, harsh, and decisive. + +The bell rang. The powerful breath of the engine was heard in the +distance coming nearer,--growing more distinct. With it the war itself +seemed to be coming nearer. + +A second bell,--and a shudder ran through every heart. A woman began +to scream. 'Jadom, Jadom!' She was evidently calling to her Adam, but +the other women took up the word and cried, 'Jadą.'[5] A shrill voice +among them added: 'The French are coming!' and in the twinkling of an +eye a panic seized not only the women, but also the future heroes of +Sedan. The crowd swerved. At that moment the train entered the +station. Caps and uniforms were seen to be at all the windows. +Soldiers seemed to swarm like ants. Dark, oblong bodies of cannon +showed grimly on some of the trucks, on others there was a forest of +bayonets. The soldiers had, apparently, been ordered to sing, for the +whole train shook with their strong masculine voices. Strength and +power seemed in some way to issue from that train, the end of which +was not even in sight. + +The Reservists on the platform began to fall in, but anyone who could +lingered in taking leave. Bartek swung his arms as if they were the +sails of a windmill, and stared. + +'Well, Magda, good-bye!' + +'Oh, my poor fellow!' + +'You will never see me again!' + +'I shall never see you again!' + +'There's no help for it!' + +'May the Mother of God protect and shelter you!' + +'Good-bye. Take care of the cottage.' + +The woman embraced him in tears. + +'May God guide you!' + +The last moment had come. The whistle and the women's crying and +sobbing drowned everything else. 'Good-bye! Good-bye!' But the +soldiers were already separated from the motley crowd, and formed a +dark, solid mass, moving forward in square columns with the certainty +and regularity of clockwork. The order was given: 'Take your seats!' +Columns and squares broke asunder from the centre, marched with heavy +strides towards the carriages, and jumped into them. The engine, now +breathing like a dragon and exhaling streams of vapour, sent forth +wreaths of grey smoke. The women cried and sobbed still louder; some +of them hid their eyes with their handkerchiefs, others waved their +hands towards the carriages; sobbing voices repeated the name of +husband and son. + +'Good-bye, Bartek!' Magda cried from amongst them. 'Take care of +yourself!--May the Mother of God--Good-bye! Oh, God!--' + +'And take care of the cottage,' answered Bartek. + +The line of trucks suddenly trembled, the carriages knocked against +one another,--and went forward. + +'And remember you have a wife and child,' Magda cried, running after +the train. 'Good-bye, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost! Good-bye----' + +On went the train, faster and faster, bearing away the warriors of +Pognębin, of both Krzywdas, of Niedola, and Mizerów. + + +CHAPTER II + +Magda, with the crowd of women, returned crying to Pognębin in one +direction; in the other the train, bristling with bayonets, rushed +into the grey distance, and Bartek with it. There seemed to be no end +to the long cloud of smoke; Pognębin was also scarcely visible. Only +the lime-tree showed faintly, and the church tower, glistening as the +rays of the sun played upon it. Soon the lime-tree also disappeared, +and the gilt cross resembled a shining speck. As long as that speck +continued to shine Bartek kept his eyes fixed upon it, but when that +vanished too there were no bounds to the poor fellow's grief. A sense +of great weakness came over him and he felt lost. So he began to look +at the Sergeant, for, after the Almighty, he already felt there was no +one greater than he. The Sergeant clearly knew what would become of +Bartek now; he himself knew nothing, understood nothing. The Sergeant +sat on the bench, and, supporting his rifle between his knees, he +lighted his pipe. The smoke rose in clouds, hiding his grave, +discontented face from time to time. Not Bartek's eyes alone watched +his face; all the eyes from every corner of the carriage were watching +it. At Pognębin or Krzywda every Bartek or Wojtek was his own master, +each had to think about himself, and for himself, but now the Sergeant +would do this for him. He would command them to look to the right, and +they would look to the right; he would command them to look to the +left, and they would look to the left. The question, 'Well, and what +is to become of us?' stood in each man's eyes, but he knew as much as +all of them put together, and also what was expected of them. If only +one were able by glances to draw some command or explanation from him! +But the men were afraid to ask direct, as war was now drawing near +with all the chances of being court-martialled. What was permitted and +was not permitted, and by whom, was unknown. They, at least, did not +know, and the sound of such a word as 'Kriegsgericht,' though they did +not understand it, frightened them very much. + +They felt that this Sergeant had still more power over them now than +at the manœuvres in Posen; he it was who knew everything, and +without him nothing would be done. He seemed meanwhile to be finding +his rifle growing heavy, for he pushed it towards Bartek to hold for +him. Bartek reached out hastily for it, held his breath, stared, and +looked at the Sergeant as he would at a rainbow, yet derived little +comfort from that. Ah, there must surely be bad news, for even the +Sergeant looked worried. At the stations one heard singing and +shouting; the Sergeant gave orders, bustled about and swore, as if to +show his importance. But let the train once move on, and everyone, +including himself, was silent. Owing to him the world now seemed to +wear two aspects, the one clear and intelligible--that represented by +home and family--the other dark, yes, absolutely dark--that of France +and war. He effectually revived the spirits of the Pognębin soldiers, +not so much by his personality, as that each man carried him at the +back of his mind. And since each soldier carried his knapsack on his +shoulder, with his cloak and other warlike accoutrements, the whole +load was extremely heavy. + +All the while the train was shaking, roaring, and rushing along into +space. Now a station where they added fresh carriages and engines; now +another where helmets, cannon, horses, bayonets, and companies of +Lancers were to be seen. The fine evening drew in slowly. The sun sank +in a deep crimson, and a number of light flying clouds spread from the +edge of the darkening sky across to the west. The train, stopping +frequently at the stations to pick up passengers and carriages, shook +and rushed forward into that crimson brightness, as into a sea of +blood. From the open carriage, in which Bartek and the Pognębin troops +were seated, one could see villages, hamlets and little towns, church +steeples, storks--looking like hooks, as they stood on one leg on +their nests,--isolated cottages, and cherry orchards. Everything was +passed rapidly, and everything looked crimson. Meanwhile the soldiers, +growing bolder, began to whisper to one another, because the Sergeant, +having laid his kit bag under his head, had fallen asleep, with his +clay pipe between his teeth. Wojtek Gwizdała, a peasant from Pognębin, +sitting beside Bartek, jogged his elbow: 'Bartek, listen!' + +Bartek turned a face with pensive, wide open eyes towards him. + +'Why do you look like a calf going to be slaughtered?' Gwizdała +whispered. 'True, you, poor beggar, are going to be slaughtered, +that's certain!' + +'Oh, my word!' groaned Bartek. + +'Are you afraid?' Gwizdała asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' + +The crimson in the sky was growing deeper still, so Gwizdała pointed +towards it and went on whispering: + +'Do you see that brightness? Do you know, Blockhead, what that is? +That's blood. Here's Poland,--our frontier, say,--do you understand? +But there in the distance, where it's so bright, that's France +itself.' + +'And shall we be there soon?' + +'Why are you in such a hurry? They say that it's a terribly long way. +But never fear, the French will come out to meet us.' + +Bartek's Pognębin brain began to work laboriously. After some moments +he asked: 'Wojtek.' + +'Yes?' + +'What sort of people are these Frenchmen?' + +Here Wojtek's wisdom suddenly became aware of a pitfall into which it +might be easier to tumble headforemost than to come out again. He knew +that the French were the French. He had heard something about them +from old people, who had related that they were always fighting with +everyone; he knew at least that they were very strange people. But how +could he explain this to Bartek to make him understand how strange +they were? First of all, therefore, he repeated the question, 'What +sort of people?' + +'Why, yes.' + +Now there were three nations known to Wojtek: living in the centre +were the Poles; on the one side were the Russians, on the other the +Germans. But there were various kinds of Germans. Preferring, +therefore, to be clear rather than accurate, he said: + +'What sort of people are the French? How can I tell you; they must be +like the Germans, only worse.' + +At which Bartek exclaimed: 'Oh, the low vermin!' + +Up to that time he had had one feeling only with regard to the French, +and that was a feeling of unspeakable fear. Henceforth this Prussian +Reservist cherished the hatred of a true patriot towards them. But not +feeling quite clear about it all, he asked again: 'Then Germans will +be fighting Germans?' + +Here Wojtek, like a second Socrates, chose to adopt a simile, and +answered: + +'But doesn't your dog, Łysek, fight with my Burek?' + +Bartek opened his mouth and looked at his instructor for a moment: +'Ah! true.' + +'And the Austrians are Germans,' explained Wojtek, 'and haven't they +fought against us? Old Swierzcz said that when he was in that war +Steinmetz used to shout: "On, boys, at the Germans!" Only that's not +so easy with the French.' + +'Good God!' + +'The French have never been beaten in any war. When they attack you, +don't be afraid, don't disgrace yourself. Each man is worth two or +three of us, and they wear beards like Jews. There are some as dark +as the devil. Now that you know what they are like, commend yourself +to God!' + +'Well, but then why do we run after them?' Bartek asked in +desperation. + +This philosophical remark was possibly not as stupid as it appeared to +Wojtek, who, evidently influenced by official opinion, quickly had his +answer ready. + +'I would rather not have gone myself, but if we don't run after them, +they will run after us. There's no help for it. You have read what the +papers say. It's against us peasants that they bear the chief grudge. +People say that they have their eyes on Poland, because they want to +smuggle vodka out of the country, and the Government won't allow it, +and that's why there's war. Now do you understand?' + +'I cannot understand,' Bartek said resignedly. + +'They are also as greedy for our women as a dog for a bone,' Wojtek +continued. + +'But surely they would respect Magda, for example?' + +'They don't even respect age!' + +'Oh!' cried Bartek in a voice implying, 'If that is so then I will +fight!' + +In fact this seemed to him really too much. Let them continue to +smuggle vodka out of Poland,--but let them dare to touch Magda! Our +friend Bartek now began to regard the whole war from the standpoint of +his own interests, and took courage in the thought of how many +soldiers and cannon were going out in defence of Magda, who was in +danger of being outraged by the French. He arrived at the conviction +that there was nothing for it but to go out against them. + +Meanwhile the brightness had faded from the sky, and it had grown +dark. The carriages began to rock violently on the uneven rails, and +the helmets and bayonets shook from right to left to the rhythm of the +rocking. Hour after hour passed by. Millions of sparks flew from the +engine and crossed one another in the darkness, serpentining in long +golden lines. For a while Bartek could not sleep. Like those sparks in +the wind, thoughts leapt into his mind about Magda, about Pognębin, +the French and the Germans. He felt that though he would have liked to +have lain down on the bench on which he was sitting, he could not do +so. He fell asleep, it is true, but it was a heavy, unrefreshing +sleep, and he was at once pursued by dreams. He saw his dog, Łysek, +fighting with Wojtek's Burek, till all their hair was torn off. He was +running for a stick to stop them, when suddenly he saw something else: +sitting with his arm round Magda was a dark Frenchman, as dark as the +earth; but Magda was smiling contentedly. Some Frenchmen jeered at +Bartek, and pointed their fingers at him. In reality it was the engine +screaming, but it seemed to him that the French were calling, 'Magda! +Magda! Magda!' 'Hold your tongue, thieves,' Bartek shouted, 'leave my +wife alone!' but they continued calling 'Magda! Magda! Magda!' Łysek +and Burek started barking, and all Pognębin cried out, 'Don't let your +wife go!' Was he bound, or what was the matter? No, he rushed forward, +tore at the cord and broke it, seized the Frenchman by the head,--and +suddenly--! + +Suddenly he was seized with severe pain, as from a heavy blow. Bartek +awoke and dragged his feet to the ground. The whole carriage awoke, +and everyone asked, 'What has happened?' In his sleep the unfortunate +Bartek had seized the Sergeant by the head. He stood up immediately, +as straight as a fiddle-string, two fingers at his forehead; but the +Sergeant waved his hand, and shouted like mad: + +'Ach, Sie! beast of a Pole! I'll knock all the teeth out of your +head,--blockhead!' + +The Sergeant shouted until he was hoarse with rage, and Bartek stood +saluting all the while. Some of the soldiers bit their lips in order +not to laugh, but they were half afraid, too. A parting shot burst +forth from the Sergeant's lips: + +'You Polish Ox! Ox from Podolia!' + +Ultimately everything became quiet again. Bartek sat back in his old +place. He was conscious of nothing but that his cheek was swollen, +and, as if playing him a trick, the engine kept repeating: + +'Magda! Magda! Magda!' + +He felt a heavy weight of sorrow upon him. + + +CHAPTER III + +It was morning! + +The fitful, pale light fell on faces sleepy and worn with a long +restless night. The soldiers were sleeping in discomfort on the seats, +some with their heads thrown forward, others with their noses in the +air. The dawn was rising and flooding all the world with crimson +light. The air was fresh and keen. The soldiers awoke. The morning +rays were drawing away shadows and mist into some region unknown. +Alas! and where was now Pognębin, where Great and Little Kzrywda, +where Mizerów? Everything was strange and different. The summits of +the hills were overgrown with trees; in the valleys were houses hidden +under red roofs, with dark crucifixes on the white walls,--beautiful +houses like mansions, covered with vines. Here, churches with spires, +there, factory chimneys with wreaths of purple smoke. There were only +straight lines, level banks, and fields of corn. The inhabitants +swarmed like ants. They passed villages and towns, and the train went +through a number of unimportant stations without stopping. Something +must have happened, for there were crowds to be seen everywhere. When +the sun slowly began to appear from behind the hills, one or two of +the soldiers commenced saying a prayer aloud. Others followed their +example, and the first rays of splendour fell on the men's earnest, +devout faces. + +Meanwhile the train had stopped at a larger station. A crowd of people +immediately surrounded it: news had come from the seat of war. +Victory! Victory! Telegrams had been arriving for several hours. +Everyone had anticipated defeat, so when roused by the unexpected +news, their joy knew no bounds. People rushed half-clad from their +houses and their beds, and ran to the post-office. Flags were waving +from the roofs, and handkerchiefs from everyone's hands. Beer, tobacco +and cigars were carried to the carriages. The enthusiasm was +unspeakable; everyone's face was beaming. 'Die Wacht am Rhein' filled +the air continuously like a tempest. Not a few were weeping, others +embraced one another. The enthusiasm animating the crowd imparted +itself to the gallant soldiers, their courage rose, and they too began +to sing. The carriages trembled with their strong voices, and the +crowd listened in wonder to their unintelligible songs. The men from +Pognębin sang: + + 'Bartoszu! Bartoszu! never lose hope!' + +'The Poles, the Poles!' repeated the crowd by way of explanation, +and, gathering round the carriages, admired their soldierly bearing, +and added to their joy by relating anecdotes of the remarkable courage +of these Polish Regiments. + +Bartek had unshaven cheeks, which, in addition to his yellow +moustache, goggle-eyes, and large bony face, made him look terrifying. +They gazed at him as at some wild beast. These, then, were the men who +were to defend Germany! Such were they who had just disposed of the +French! Bartek smiled with satisfaction, for he too was pleased that +they had beaten the French. Now they would not go to Pognębin, they +would not make off with Magda, nor capture his land. So he smiled, but +as his cheek hurt him badly, he made a grimace at the same time, and +did certainly look terrifying. Then, displaying the appetite of a +Homeric warrior, he caused pea-sausages and pints of beer to disappear +into his mouth as into a vacuum. People in the crowd gave him cigars +and pence, and they all drank to one another. + +'There's some good in this German nation,' he said to Wojtek, adding +after a moment, 'and you know they have beaten the French!' + +But Wojtek, the sceptic, cast a shadow on his joy. Wojtek had +forebodings, like Cassandra: + +'The French always allow themselves to be beaten at first, in order to +take you in, and then they set to until they have cut you to pieces!' + +Wojtek did not know that the greater part of Europe shared his +opinion, in general, and in particular now. + +They travelled on. All the houses were covered with flags. They +stopped a long while at several of the stations, because there was a +block of trains everywhere. Troops were hastening from all sides of +Germany to reinforce their brothers in arms. The trains were swathed +in green wreaths, and the Lancers had decorated their lances with the +bunches of flowers given them on the way. The majority of these +Lancers also were Poles. More than one conversation and greeting was +heard passing from carriage to carriage: + +'How are you, old fellow, and where is God Almighty leading you?' + +Meanwhile to the accompaniment of the train rumbling along the rails, +the well-known song rang out:-- + + 'Flirt with us, soldiers! dears!' + Cried the girls of Sandomierz. + +And soon Bartek and his comrades caught up the refrain:-- + + Gaily forth the answer burst: + 'Bless you, dears! but dinner first!' + +As many as had gone out from Pognębin in sorrow were now filled with +enthusiasm and spirit. A train which had arrived from France with the +first batch of wounded, damped this feeling of cheerfulness, however. +It stopped at Deutz, and waited a long time to allow the trains +hurrying to the seat of war to go by. The men were marched across the +bridge _en route_ for Cologne. Bartek ran forward with several others +to look at the sick and wounded. Some lay in closed, others in open +carriages, and these could be seen well. At the first glance our +hero's heart was again in his mouth. + +'Come here, Wojtek,' he cried in terror. 'See how many of our +countrymen the Frenchmen have done for!' + +It was indeed a sight! Pale, exhausted faces, some darkened by +gunpowder or by pain, or stained with blood. To the sounds of +universal rejoicing these men only responded by groans. Some were +cursing the war, the French and the Germans. Parched lips called every +moment for water, eyes rolled in delirium. Here and there, amongst the +wounded, were the rigid faces of the dead, in some cases peaceful, +with blue lines round their eyes, in others contorted through the +death struggle, with terrifying eyes and grinning teeth. Bartek saw +the bloody fruits of war for the first time, and once more confusion +reigned in his mind. He seemed quite stupefied, as, standing in the +crowd, with his mouth open, he was elbowed from every side, and +pomelled on the neck by the police. He sought Wojtek's eyes, nudged +him, and said, + +'Wojtek, may Heaven preserve us! It's horrible!' + +'It will be just the same with you.' + +'Jesu! Mary! That human beings should murder one another like this! +When a fellow kills another the police take him off to the magistrate +and prison!' + +'Well, but now whoever kills most human beings is to be praised. What +were you thinking of, Blockhead: did you think you would use gunpowder +as in the manœuvres, and would shoot at targets instead of people?' + +Here the difference between theory and practice certainly stood out +clearly. Notwithstanding that our friend Bartek was a soldier, had +attended manœuvres and drill, had practised rifle shooting, had +known that the object of war was to kill people, now, when he saw +blood flowing, and all the misery of war, it made him feel so sick and +miserable he could hardly keep himself upright. He was impressed anew +with respect for the French; this diminished, however, when they +arrived at Cologne from Deutz. At the Central Station they saw +prisoners for the first time. Surrounding them was a number of +soldiers and people, who gazed at them with interest, but without +hostility. Bartek elbowed his way through the crowd, and, looking into +the carriage, was amazed. + +A troop of French infantry in ragged cloaks, small, dirty, and +emaciated, were packed into the carriages like a cask of herrings. +Many of them stretched out their hands for the trifling gifts +presented to them by the crowd, if the sentinels did not prevent them. +Judging from what he had heard from Wojtek, Bartek had had a wholly +different impression of the French, and this took his breath away. He +looked to see if Wojtek were anywhere about, and found him standing +close by. + +'What did you say?' asked Bartek. 'By all the Saints! I shouldn't be +more surprised if I had lost my head!' + +'They must have been starved somehow,' answered Wojtek, equally +disillusioned. + +'What are they jabbering?' + +'It's certainly not Polish.' + +Reassured by this impression, Bartek walked on past the carriages. +'Miserable wretches!' he said, when he had finished his review of the +Regulars. + +But the last carriages contained Zouaves, and these gave Bartek food +for further reflection. From the fact that they sat huddled together +in the carriages, it was impossible to discover whether each man were +equal to two or three ordinary men; but, through the window, he saw +the long, martial beards, and grave faces of veteran soldiers with +dark complexions and alarmingly shining eyes. Again Bartek's heart +leapt to his mouth. + +'These are the worst of all,' he whispered low, as if afraid they +might hear him. + +'You have not yet seen those who have not let themselves be taken +prisoner,' replied Wojtek. + +'Heaven preserve us!' + +'Now do you understand?' + +Having finished looking at the Zouaves, they walked on. At the last +carriage Bartek suddenly started back as if he had touched fire. + +'Oh, Wojtek, Lord help us!' + +There was the dark--nearly black--face of a Turco at the open window, +rolling his eyes so that the whites showed. He must have been wounded, +for his face was contorted with pain. + +'But what's the matter?' asked Wojtek. + +'That must be the Evil One, it's not a soldier. Lord have mercy on my +sins!' + +'Look at his teeth!' + +'May he go to perdition! I shan't look at him any longer.' + +Bartek was silent, then asked after a moment: + +'Wojtek?' + +'Yes?' + +'Mightn't it be a good thing to cross oneself before anyone like +that?' + +'The heathen don't understand anything about the holy truth.' + +The signal was given for taking their seats. In a few moments the +train was moving. When it grew dusk Bartek continually saw before him +the Turco's dark face with the terrible white of his eyes. From the +feeling which at the moment animated this Pognębin soldier, it would +not have been possible to foretell his future deeds. + + +CHAPTER IV + +The particular share he took at first in the pitched battle of +Gravelotte, merely convinced Bartek of this fact,--that in war there +is plenty to look at, but nothing to do. For at the commencement he +and his regiment were told to order arms and wait at the bottom of a +hill covered by a vineyard. The guns were booming in the distance, +squadrons of cavalry charged past near at hand with a clatter which +shook the earth; then the flags passed, then Cuirassiers with drawn +swords. The shells on the hill flew hissing across the blue sky in the +form of small white clouds, then smoke filled the air and hid the +horizon. The battle seemed like a storm which passes through a +district without lasting long anywhere. + +After the first hours, unusual activity was displayed round Bartek's +regiment. Other regiments began to be massed round his, and in the +spaces between them, the guns, drawn by plunging horses, rushed along, +and, hastily unlimbered, were pointed towards the hill. The whole +valley became full of troops. Commands were now thundered from all +sides, the Aides-de-Camps rushed about wildly, and the private +soldiers said to one another: + +'Ah! it will be our turn now! It's coming!' or enquired uneasily of +one another, + +'Isn't it yet time to start?' + +'Surely it must be!' + +The question of life and death was now beginning to hang in the +balance. Something in the smoke, which hid the horizon, burst close at +hand with a terrible explosion. The deep roar of the cannon and the +crack of the rifle firing was heard ever nearer; it was like an +indistinct sound coming from a distance,--then the mitrailleuse became +audible. Suddenly the guns, placed in position, boomed forth until the +earth and air trembled together. The shells whistled frightfully +through Bartek's company. Watching they saw something bright red, a +little cloud, as it might be, and in that cloud something whistled, +rushed, rattled, roared, and shrieked. The men shouted: 'A shell! A +shell,' and at the same moment this vulture of war sped forward like a +gale, came near, fell, and burst! A terrible roar met the ear, a crash +as if the world had collapsed, followed by a rushing sound, as before +a puff of wind! Confusion reigned in the lines standing in the +neighbourhood of the guns, then came the cry and command 'Stand +ready!' Bartek stood in the front rank, his rifle at his shoulder, his +head turned towards the hill, his mouth set,--so his teeth were not +chattering. He was forbidden to tremble, he was forbidden to shoot. He +had only to stand still and wait! But now another shell burst,--three, +four, ten. The wind lifted the smoke from the hill: the French had +already driven the Prussian battery from it, had placed theirs in +position, and now opened fire on to the valley. Every moment from +under cover of the vineyard they sent forth long white columns of +smoke. Protected by the guns, the enemy's infantry continued to +advance, in order to open fire. They were already half way down the +hill and could now be seen plainly, for the wind was driving the smoke +away. Would the vineyard prove an obstacle to them? No, the dark caps +of the infantry were advancing. Suddenly they disappeared under the +tall arches of the vines, and there was nothing to be seen but +tricolour flags waving here and there. The rifle fire began fiercely +but intermittently, continually starting in fresh and unexpected +places. Shells burst above it, and crossed one another in the air. Now +and then cries rang out from the hill, which were answered from below +by a German 'Hurrah!' The guns from the valley sent forth an +uninterrupted fire; the regiment stood unflinching. + +The line of fire began to embrace it more closely, however. The +bullets hummed in the distance like gnats and flies, or passed near +with a terrible whizz. More and more of them came:--hundreds, +thousands, whistling round their heads, their noses, their eyes, their +shoulders; it was astonishing there should be a man left standing. +Suddenly Bartek heard a groan close by: 'Jesu!' then 'Stand ready!' +then again 'Jesu!' 'Stand ready!' Soon the groans went on without +intermission, the words of command came faster and faster, the lines +drew in closer, the whizzing grew more frequent, more uninterrupted, +more terrible. The dead covered the ground. It was like the Judgment +Day. + +'Are you afraid?' Wojtek asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' our hero answered, his teeth chattering. + +Nevertheless both Bartek and Wojtek still kept their feet, and it did +not even enter their heads to run away. They had been commanded to +stand still and receive the enemy's fire. Bartek had not spoken the +truth; he was not as much afraid as thousands of others would have +been in his place. Discipline held the mastery over his imagination, +and his imagination had never painted such a horrible situation as +this. Nevertheless Bartek felt that he would be killed, and he +confided this thought to Wojtek. + +'There won't be room in Heaven for the numbers they kill,' Wojtek +answered in an excited voice. + +These words comforted Bartek perceptibly. He began to hope that his +place in Heaven had already been taken. Re-assured with regard to +this, he stood more patiently, conscious only of the intense heat, and +with the perspiration running down his face. Meantime the firing +became so heavy that the ranks were thinning visibly. There was no one +to carry away the killed and wounded; the death rattle of the dying +mingled with the whizz of shells and the din of shooting. One could +see by the movement of the tricolour flags that the infantry hidden by +the vines was coming closer and closer. The volleys of mitrailleuse +decimated the ranks; the men were beginning to grow desperate. + +But underlying this despair were impatience and rage. Had they been +commanded to go forward, they would have gone like a whirlwind. It was +impossible to merely stand still in one spot. A soldier suddenly threw +down his helmet with his whole force, and exclaimed: + +'Curse it! One death is as good as another!' + +Bartek again experienced such a feeling of relief from these words +that he almost entirely ceased to be afraid. For if one death was as +good as another, what did anything matter? This rustic philosophy was +calculated to arouse courage more rapidly than any other. Bartek knew +that one death was as good as another, but it pleased him to hear it, +especially as the battle was now turning into a defeat. For here was a +regiment which had never fired a single shot, and was already half +annihilated. Crowds of soldiers from other regiments which had been +scattered, ran in amongst and round theirs in disorder; only these +peasants from Pognębin, Great and Little Krzywda, and Mizerów still +remained firm, upholding Prussian discipline. But even amongst them a +certain degree of hesitation now began to be felt. Another moment and +they would have burst the restraint of discipline. The ground under +their feet was already soft and slippery with blood, the stench of +which mingled with the smell of gunpowder. In several places the lines +could not join up closely, because the dead bodies made gaps in them. +At the feet of those men yet standing, the other half lay bleeding, +groaning, struggling, dying, or in the silence of death. There was no +air to breathe in. They began to grumble: + +'They have brought us out to be slaughtered!' + +'No one will come out of this!' + +'Silence, Polish dogs!' sounded the officer's voice. + +'I should just like you to be standing in my shoes!' + +'Where is that fellow?' + +Suddenly a voice began to repeat: + +'Beneath Thy Shadow....' + +Bartek instantly took it up: + +'We flee, O holy Son of God!' + +And soon on that field of carnage a chorus of Polish voices was +calling to the Defender of their nation: + +'Of Thy favour regard our prayers.' + +while from beneath their feet there came the accompaniment of groans: +'Mary! Mary!' She had evidently heard them, for at that moment the +Aide-de-Camps came galloping up, and the command rang forth: 'Arms to +the attack! Hurrah! Forward!' The crest of bayonets was suddenly +lowered, the column stretched out into a long line and sprang towards +the hill to seek with their bayonets the enemy they could not discover +with their eyes. The men were, however, still two hundred yards from +the foot of the hill, and they had to traverse that distance under a +murderous fire. Would they not perish like the rest? Would they not be +obliged to retreat? Perish they might, but retreat they could not, for +the Prussian commander knows what tune will bring Polish soldiers to +the attack. Amid the roar of cannon, amid the rifle fire and the +smoke, the confusion and groaning, loudest of all sounded the drums +and trumpets, playing the hymn at which every single drop of blood +leapt in their veins. 'Hurrah!' answered the Macki[6] 'as long as we +live!' Frenzy seized them. The fire met them full in the face. They +went like a whirlwind over the prostrate bodies of men and horses, +over the wrecks of cannon. They fell, but they went with a shout and a +song. They had already reached the vineyard and disappeared into its +enclosure. Only the song was heard, and at times a bayonet glittered. +On the hill the firing became increasingly fierce. In the valley the +trumpets kept on sounding. The French volleys continued faster and +faster,--still faster,--and suddenly-- + +Suddenly they were silent. + +Down in the valley that old wardog, Steinmetz, lighted his clay pipe, +and said in a tone of satisfaction: + +'You have only to play to them! The daredevils will do it!' + +And actually in a few moments one of the proudly waving tricolours was +suddenly raised aloft, then drooped, and disappeared. + +'They are not joking,' said Steinmetz. + +Again the trumpets played the hymn, and a second Polish regiment went +to the help of the first. In the enclosure a pitched battle with +bayonets was taking place. + +And now, oh Muse, sing of our hero, Bartek, that posterity may know +of his deeds! The fear, impatience, and despair of his heart had +mingled into the single feeling of rage, and when he heard that music +each vein stood out in him like cast iron. His hair stood on end, his +eyes shot fire. He forgot everything that had made up his world; he no +longer cared whether one death was as good as another. Grasping his +rifle firmly in his hands, he leapt forward with the others. Reaching +the hill he fell down for the tenth time, struck his nose, and, +bespattered with mud and the blood flowing from his nose, ran on madly +and breathlessly, catching at the air with open mouth. He stared +round, wishing to find some of the French in the enclosure as quickly +as possible, and caught sight of three standing together near the +flags. They were Turcos. Would Bartek retreat? No, indeed; he could +have seized the horns of Lucifer himself now! He ran towards them at +once, and they fell on him with a shout; two bayonets, like two deadly +stings, had actually touched his chest already, but Bartek lowered his +bayonet. A dreadful cry followed,--a groan, and two dark bodies lay +writhing convulsively on the ground. + +At that moment the third, who carried the flag, ran up to help his two +comrades. Like a Fury, Bartek leapt on him with his whole strength. +The firing flashed and roared in the distance, while Bartek's hoarse +roar rang out through the smoke: + +'Go to Hell!' + +And again the rifle in his hand described a fearful semi-circle, again +groans responded to his thrusts. The Turcos retreated in terror at the +sight of this furious giant, but either Bartek misunderstood, or they +shouted out something in Arabic, for it seemed to him that their thick +lips distinctly uttered the cry: 'Magda! Magda!' + +'Magda will give it you!' howled Bartek, and with one leap he was in +the enemy's midst. + +Happily at that moment some of his comrades ran up to his assistance. +A hand to hand fight now took place in the enclosure of the vineyard. +There was the crack of rifles at close quarters, and the hot breath of +the combatants sounded through their nostrils. Bartek raged like a +storm. Blinded by smoke, streaming with blood, more like a wild beast +than a man, and regardless of everything, he mowed down men at each +blow, broke rifles, cracked heads. His hands moved with the terrible +swiftness of a machine sowing destruction. He attacked the Ensign, and +seized him by the throat with an iron grip. The Ensign's eyes turned +upwards, his face swelled, his throat rattled, and his hands let the +pole fall. + +'Hurrah!' cried Bartek, and, lifting the flag, he waved it in the air. + +This was the flag raised aloft and drooping, which Steinmetz had seen +from below. + +But he could only see it for half a second, for in the next--Bartek +had trampled it to shreds. Meanwhile his comrades were already rushing +on ahead. + +Bartek remained alone for a moment. He tore off the flag, hid it in +his breast pocket, and, having seized the pole in both hands, rushed +after his comrades. + +A crowd of Turcos, shouting in a barbarous tongue, now fled towards +the gun placed on the summit of the hill, the Macki after them, +shouting, pursuing, striking with butt-end and bayonet. + +The Zouaves, who were stationed by the guns, received the first men +with rifle fire. + +'Hurrah!' shouted Bartek. + +The men ran up to the guns, and a fresh struggle took place round +these. At that moment the second Polish regiment came to the aid of +the first. The flag pole in Bartek's powerful hands was now changed +into a kind of infernal flail. Each stroke dealt by it opened a free +passage through the close lines of the French. The Zouaves and Turcos +began to be seized with panic, and they fled from the place where +Bartek was fighting. Within a few moments Bartek was sitting astride +the gun, as he might his Pognębin mare. + +But scarcely had the soldiers had time to see him on this, when he was +already on the second, after killing another Ensign who was standing +by it with the flag. + +'Hurrah, Bartek!' repeatedly exclaimed the soldiers. + +The victory was complete. All the ammunition was captured. The +infantry fled, and after being surrounded by Prussian reinforcements +on the other side of the hill, laid down their arms. + +Bartek captured yet a third flag during the pursuit. + +It was worth seeing him, when exhausted, covered with blood, and +blowing like a blacksmith's bellows, he now descended the hill +together with the rest, bearing the three flags on his shoulder. The +French? Why, what had not he alone done to them! By his side went +Wojtek, scratched and scarred, so he turned to him and said: + +'What did you say? Why, they are miserable wretches; there isn't a +scrap of strength in their bones! They have just scratched you and me +like kittens, and that's all. But how I have bled them you can see by +the ground!' + +'Who would have known that you could be so brave!' replied Wojtek, who +had watched Bartek's deeds, and began to look at him in quite a +different light. + +But who has not heard of these deeds? History, all the regiment and +the greater number of the officers. Everybody now looked with +astonishment at this country giant with the flaxen moustache and +goggle eyes. The Major himself said to him, 'Ah, you confounded Pole!' +and pulled his ear, making Bartek grin to his back teeth with +pleasure. When the regiment stood once more at the foot of the hill, +the Major pointed him out to the Colonel, and the Colonel to Steinmetz +himself. + +The latter noticed the flags, and ordered that they should be taken +charge of; then he began to look at Bartek. Our friend Bartek again +stood as straight as a fiddle string, presenting arms, and the old +General looked at him and shook his head with pleasure. Finally he +began to say something to the Colonel; the words 'non-commissioned +officer' were plainly audible. + +'Too stupid, Your Excellency!' answered the Major. + +'Let us try,' said His Excellency, and turning his horse, he +approached Bartek. + +Bartek himself scarcely knew what was happening to him: it was a thing +unknown in the Prussian Army for the General to talk to a Private! His +Excellency was the more easily able to do this, because he knew +Polish. Moreover this Private had captured three flags and two guns. + +'Where do you come from?' enquired the General. + +'From Pognębin,' answered Bartek. + +'Good. Your name?' + +'Bartek Słowik.' + +'Mensch,' explained the Major. + +'Mens!' Bartek tried to repeat. + +'Do you know why you are fighting the French?' + +'I know, Your Excellency.' + +'Tell me.' + +Bartek began to stammer, 'Because, because--' Then on a sudden +Wojtek's words fortunately came into his mind, and he burst out with +them quickly, so as not to get confused: 'Because they are Germans +too, only worse villains!' + +His Excellency's face began to twitch as if he felt inclined to burst +out laughing. After a moment, however, His Excellency turned to the +Major, and said: + +'You are right, Sir.' + +Our friend Bartek, satisfied with himself, remained standing as +straight as a fiddle string. + +'Who won the battle to-day?' the General asked again. + +'I, Your Excellency,' Bartek answered without hesitation. + +His Excellency's face again began to twitch. + +'Right, very right, it was you! And here you have your reward.' + +Here the old soldier unpinned the iron cross from his own breast, +stooped and pinned it on to Bartek. The General's good humour was +reflected in a perfectly natural way on the faces of the Colonel, the +Majors, the Captains, down to the non-commissioned officers. After the +General's departure the Colonel for his own part presented Bartek with +ten thalers, the Major with five, and so on. Everyone repeated to him +smilingly that he had won the battle, with the result that Bartek was +in the seventh heaven. + +It was a strange thing: the only person who was not really satisfied +with our hero was Wojtek. + +In the evening, when they were both sitting round the fire, and when +Bartek's distinguished face was bulging as much with pea sausage as +the sausage itself, Wojtek ejaculated in a tone of resignation: + +'Oh Bartek, what a blockhead you are, because--' + +'But why?' said Bartek, between his bites of sausage. + +'Why, man, didn't you tell the General that the French are Germans?' + +'You said so yourself.' + +'And what of that?--' + +Wojtek began to stammer a little--'Well, though they may be Germans, +you needn't have told him so, because it's always unpleasant--' + +'But I said it about the French, not about them....' + +'Ah, because when....' + +Wojtek stopped short, though evidently wishing to say something +further; he wished to explain to Bartek that it is not suitable when +among Germans to speak evil of them, but somehow his tongue became +entangled. + + +CHAPTER V + +A little while later the Royal Prussian Mail brought the following +letter to Pognębin: + + May Jesus Christ and His Holy Mother be praised. + + DEAREST MAGDA! What news of you? It is all right for you to + be able to rest quietly in bed at home, but I am fighting + horribly hard here. We have been surrounding the great fort + of Metz, and there was a battle, and I did for so many of the + French that all the Infantry and Artillery were astonished. + And the General himself was astonished, and said that I had + won the battle, and gave me a cross. And the officers and + non-commissioned officers respect me very much now, and + rarely box my ears. Afterwards we marched on further, and + there was a second battle, but I have forgotten what the town + was called; there also I seized and carried off four flags, + and knocked down one of the biggest Colonels in the + Cuirassiers, and took him prisoner. And as our regiment is + going to be sent home, the Sergeant has advised me to ask to + be transferred and to stay on here, for in war it is only + sleep you do not get, but you may eat as much as you can + stand, and in this country there is wine everywhere, for they + are a rich nation. We have also burnt a town and we did not + spare even women or children, nor did I. The church was burnt + on purpose, because they are Catholics, and very wicked + people. We are now going on to the Emperor himself, and that + will be the end of the war, but you take care of the cottage + and Franek, for if you do not take care of it, then I will + beat you till you have learnt what sort of a man I am. I + commend you to God. + + Bartłomiej Słowik. + +Bartek was evidently developing a taste for war, and beginning to +regard it as his proper trade. He felt greater confidence in himself, +and now went into battle as he might have gone to his work at +Pognębin. Medals and crosses covered his breast, and although he did +not become a non-commissioned officer, he was universally regarded as +the foremost Private in the regiment. He was always well disciplined, +as before, and possessed the blind courage of the man who simply takes +no account of danger. The courage actuating him was no longer of the +same kind as that which had filled him in his first moments of fury, +for it now sprang from military experience and faith in himself. Added +to this his giant strength could endure all kinds of fatigue, marches, +and overstrain. Men fell at his side, he alone went on unharmed, only +working all the harder and developing more and more into the stern +Prussian soldier. He now not only fought the French, but hated them. +Some of his other ideas also changed. He became a soldier-patriot, +blindly extolling his leaders. In another letter to Magda he wrote: + + Wojtek is divided in his opinion, and so there is a quarrel + between us, do you understand? He is a scoundrel, too, + because he says that the French are Germans, but they are + French, and we are Germans. + +Magda, in her reply to both letters, set about abusing him with the +first words that came into her head. + + Dearest Bartek (she wrote), married to me before the holy + Altar! May God punish you! You yourself are a scoundrel, you + heathen, going with those wretches to murder half a nation of + Catholics. Do you not understand, then, that those wretches + are Lutherans, and that you, a Catholic, are helping them? + You like war, you ruffian, because you are able now to do + nothing but fight, drink, and illtreat others, and to go + without fasting; and you burn churches. But may you burn in + Hell for that, because you are even proud of it, and have no + thought for old people or children. Remember what has been + written in golden letters in the Holy Scriptures about the + Polish nation, from the beginning of the world to the + Judgment Day,--when God most High will have no regard for + sluggards,--and restrain yourself, you Turk, that I may not + smash your head to pieces. I have sent you five thalers, + although I have need of them here, for I do not know which + way to turn, and the household savings are getting short. I + embrace you, dearest Bartek. + + MAGDA. + +The moral contained in these lines made little impression on Bartek. +'The wife does not remember her vows,' he thought to himself, 'and is +meddling.' And he continued to make war on the aged. He distinguished +himself in every battle so greatly, that finally he again came under +the honoured notice of Steinmetz. Ultimately when the shattered Polish +regiment was sent back into the depths of Germany, he took the +sergeant's advice of applying for leave to be transferred, and stayed +behind. The result of this was that he found himself outside Paris. + +His letters were now full of contempt for the French. 'They run away +like hares in every battle,' he wrote to Magda, and he wrote the +truth. But the siege did not prove to his taste. He had to dig or to +lie in the trenches round Paris for whole days, listening to the roar +of the guns, and often getting soaked through. Besides, he missed his +old regiment. In the one to which he had been transferred as a +volunteer, he was surrounded by Germans. He knew some German, having +already learnt a little at the factory, but only about five in ten +words; now he quickly began to grow familiar with it. The regiment +nicknamed him 'the Polish dog,' however, and it was only his +decorations and his terrifying fists which shielded him from +disagreeable jokes. Nevertheless, he earned the respect of his new +comrades, and began little by little to make friends with them. Since +he covered the whole regiment with glory, they ultimately came to look +upon him as one of themselves. Bartek would always have considered +himself insulted if anyone called him German, but in thinking of +himself in distinction to the French he called himself 'ein +Deutscher.' To himself he appeared entirely distinct, but at the same +time he did not wish to pass for worse than others. An incident +occurred, nevertheless, which might have given him plenty to reflect +upon, had reflection come more easily to this hero's mind. Some +Companies of his regiment had been sent out against some volunteer +sharpshooters, and laid an ambush for them, into which they fell. But +the detachment was composed of veteran soldiers, the remains of some +of the foreign regiments, and this time Bartek did not see the dark +caps running away after the first shots. They defended themselves +stubbornly when surrounded, and rushed forward to force their way +through the encircling Prussian soldiery. They fought so desperately +that half of them cut their way through, and knowing the fate that +awaited captured sharpshooters, few allowed themselves to be taken +alive. The Company in which Bartek was serving therefore only took two +prisoners. These were lodged overnight in a forester's house, and the +next day they were to be shot. A small guard of soldiers stood outside +the door, but Bartek was stationed in the room under the open window +with the prisoners, who were bound. + +One of the prisoners was a man no longer young, with a grey moustache, +and a face expressing indifference to everything; the other appeared +to be about twenty-two years of age. With his fair moustache yet +scarcely showing, his face was more like a woman's that a soldier's. + +'Well, this is the end of it,' the young man said after a while, 'a +bullet through your head--and it's all over!' + +Bartek shuddered until the rifle in his hand rattled; the youth talked +Polish. + +'It is all the same to me,' the second answered in a gruff voice, 'as +I live, all the same! I have lived so long, I have had enough.' + +Bartek's heart beat quicker and quicker under his uniform. + +'Listen, then,' the older man continued, 'there is no help for it. If +you are afraid, think about something else, or go to sleep. Enjoy what +you can. As God loves me, I don't care!' + +'My mother will grieve for me,' the youth replied low; and, evidently +wishing to suppress his emotion, or else to deceive himself, he began +to whistle. He suddenly interrupted this, and cried in a voice of deep +despair, 'I did not even say good-bye!' + +'Then did you run away from home?' + +'Yes. I thought the Germans would be beaten, so there would be better +things coming for Poland.' + +'And I thought the same. But now--' + +Waving his hand, the old man finished speaking in a low voice, and his +last words were overpowered by the roar of the wind. The night was +dark. Clouds of fine rain swept past from time to time; the wood close +by was black as a pall. The gale whistled round the corners of the +room, and howled in the chimney like a dog. The lamp, placed high +above the window to prevent the wind from extinguishing it, threw a +flood of bright light into the room. But Bartek, who was standing +close to it under the window, was plunged in darkness. + +And it was perhaps better the prisoners should not see his face, for +strange things were taking place in this peasant's mind. At first he +had been filled with astonishment, and had stared hard at the +prisoners, trying to understand what they were saying. So these men +had set out to beat the Germans to benefit Poland, and he had beaten +the French, in order that Poland might benefit! And to-morrow these +two men would be shot! How was that? What was a poor fellow to think +about it? But if only he could hint it to them, if only he could tell +them that he was their man, that he pitied them! He felt a sudden +catch in his throat. What could he do for them? Could he rescue them? +Then _he_ would be shot! Good God! what was happening to him? He was +so overcome by pity that he could not remain in the room. + +A strange intense longing suddenly came upon him till he seemed +somewhere far off at Pognębin. Pity, hitherto an unknown guest in his +soldier's heart, cried to him from the depth of his soul: 'Bartek, +save them, they are your brothers!' and his heart, torn as never +before, cried out for home, for Magda, for Pognębin. He had had +enough of the French, enough of this war, and of battles! The voice +sounded clearer and clearer: 'Bartek, save them!' Confound this war! +The woods showed dark through the open window, moaning like the +Pognębin pines, and even in that moan something called out, 'Bartek, +save them!' + +What could he do? Should he escape to the wood with them, or what? All +his Prussian discipline recoiled in aversion at the thought. In the +Name of the Father and the Son! He need but cross himself at it! +He,--a soldier, and desert? Never! + +All the while the wood was moaning more loudly, the wind whistling +more mournfully. + +The elder prisoner suddenly whispered, 'That wind--like the Spring at +home.' + +'Leave me in peace!' the young man said in a Pognębin voice. + +After a moment, however, he repeated several times: + +'At home, at home, at home! God! God!' + +Deep sighs mingled with the listening wind, and the prisoners lay +silent once more. + +Bartek began to tremble feverishly. There is nothing so bad for a man +as to be unable to tell what is amiss with him. It seemed to Bartek as +if he had stolen something, and were afraid of being taken in charge. +He had a clear conscience, nothing threatened him, but he was +certainly terribly afraid of something. Indeed, his legs were +trembling, his rifle had grown dreadfully heavy, and something--like +bitter sobs--was choking him. Were these for Magda, or for Pognębin? +For both, but also for that younger prisoner whom it was impossible to +help. + +At times Bartek fancied he must be asleep. All the while the storm +raged more fiercely round the house, and the cries and voices +multiplied strangely in the whistling of the wind. + +Suddenly every hair of Bartek's head stood on end under his helmet. +For it seemed as if somewhere from out of the dark, rain-clad depths +of the forest somebody were groaning, and repeating: 'At home, at +home, at home!' + +Bartek started back, and struck the floor with the butt end of his +rifle to wake himself. He regained consciousness somehow and looked +up. The prisoners lay in the corner, the lamp was burning brightly, +the wind was howling,--all was in order. + +The light fell full on to the face of the younger prisoner--a child's +or girl's face. As he lay there with closed eyes, and straw under his +head, he looked as if he were already dead. + +Never in his life had Bartek been so wrung with pity! Something +distinctly gripped his throat, and an audible cry was wrung from his +breast. + +At that moment the elder prisoner turned wearily on to his side, and +said, 'Good-night, Władek.' Silence followed. An hour passed. + +The wind played like the Pognębin organ. The prisoners lay silent. +Suddenly the younger prisoner, raising himself a little by an effort, +called, 'Karol?' + +'What?' + +'Are you asleep?' + +'No.' + +'Listen! I am afraid. Say what you like, but I shall pray.' + +'Pray, then.' + +'Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come.' + +Sobs suddenly interrupted the young prisoner's words, yet the broken +voice was still heard: 'Thy--will--be--done!' + +'Oh Jesu!' something cried in Bartek, 'Oh Jesu!' + +Impossible! He could stand it no longer.--Another moment, and +exclaiming 'Lord, I am only a man!' he had leapt through the window +into the wood. Let come what may! Suddenly measured steps were heard +echoing from the direction of the hall: it was the patrol, the +Sergeant with it. They were changing the guard! + +Next day Bartek was drunk all day from early morning. The following +day likewise.... + +But fresh advances, fighting, and marches took place during the days +following, and I am glad to say that our hero regained his +equilibrium. A certain fondness for the bottle, in which it is always +possible to find pleasure and at times forgetfulness, remained with +him after that night, however. For the rest, in battle he was more +terrible than ever; victory followed in his wake. + + +CHAPTER VI + +Some months had passed, and the Spring was now well advanced. The +cherry trees at Pognębin were in blossom and the young corn was +sprouting abundantly in the fields. One day Magda, seated in front of +the cottage, was peeling some rotten potatoes for dinner, fitter for +cattle than for human beings. But it was Spring-time, and poverty had +visited Pognębin. That could be seen too by the saddened and worried +look on Magda's face. Possibly in order to distract herself, the +woman, closing her eyes, sang in a thin, strained voice: + + Alas, my Jasieńko has gone to the war! he writes me letters; + Alas, and I his wife write to him,--for I cannot see him. + +The sparrows twittered in the cherry trees as if they were trying to +emulate her. She stopped her song and gazed absently at the dog +sleeping in the sun, at the road passing the cottage, and the path +leading from the road through the garden and field. Perhaps Magda +glanced at the path because it led across to the station and, as God +willed, she did not look in vain that day. A figure appeared in the +distance, and the woman shaded her eyes with her hand, but she could +not see clearly, being blinded by the glare. Łysek woke up, however, +raised his head, and giving a short bark, began to grow excited, +pricking up his ears and turning his head from side to side. At the +same moment the words of a song reached Magda indistinctly. Łysek +sprang up suddenly and ran at full speed towards the newcomer. Then +Magda turned a little pale. + +'Is it Bartek,--or not?' + +She jumped up so quickly that the bowl of potatoes rolled on to the +ground: there was no longer any doubt; Łysek was bounding up to his +shoulder. The woman rushed forward, shouting in the full strength of +her joy: 'Bartek! Bartek!' + +'Magda, here I am!' Bartek cried, throwing her a kiss, and hurrying +towards her. He opened the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all +but fell, recovered himself,--and they were clasped in one anothers' +arms. + +The woman began to speak quickly: + +'And I had thought that you would not come back. I thought "they will +kill him!"--How are you?--Let me see. How good to look at you! You are +terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor fellow!--Oh, my dearest!... He has come +back, come back!' + +For one moment she tore herself from his neck and looked at him, then +threw herself on to it again. + +'Come back! The Lord be praised! Bartek, my darling! How are you? Go +indoors! Franek is at school being teased by that horrid German! The +boy is well. He's as dull in the upper storey as you are. Oh, but it +was time for you to come back! I didn't know any more which way to +turn. I was miserable, I tell you, miserable! This whole poor house is +going into ruins. The roof is off the barn. How are you? Oh, Bartek! +Bartek! That I should actually see you, after all! What trouble I have +had with the hay!--The neighbours helped me, but they did it to help +themselves! How are you?--Well? Oh, but I am glad to have you,--glad! +The Lord watched over you. Go indoors. By God, it's like Bartek, and +not like Bartek! What's the matter with you? Oh dear! Oh dear!' + +At that instant Magda had become aware of a long scar running along +Bartek's face across his left temple and cheek and down to his beard. + +'It's nothing.--A Cuirassier did it for me, but I did the same for +him. I have been in hospital.' + +'Oh Jesu!' + +'Why, it's a mere flea-bite.' + +'But you are starved to death.' + +'Ruhig!' answered Bartek. + +He was in truth emaciated, begrimed and in rags:--a true conqueror! He +swayed too as he stood. + +'What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?' + +'I--am still weak.' + +That he was weak, was certain, but he was tipsy also. For one glass of +vodka would have been sufficient in his state of exhaustion, and +Bartek had drunk something like four at the station. The result was +that he had the bearing of the true conqueror. He had not been like +this formerly. + +'Ruhig!' he repeated. 'We have finished the Krieg. I am a gentleman +now, do you understand? Look here!' he pointed to his crosses and +medals. 'Do you know who I am? Eh? Links! Rechts! Heu! Stroh! Halt!' + +At the word, 'halt,' he gave such a shrill shout that the woman +recoiled several steps. + +'Are you mad?' + +'How are you, Magda? When I say to you "how are you" then how are you? +Do you know French, stupid? "Musiu, Musiu!" What is "Musiu?" I am a +"Musiu," do you understand?' + +'Man, what's up with you?' + +'What's that to you! Was? "Doné diner," do you understand?' + +A storm began to gather on Magda's brow. + +'What rubbish are you jabbering? What's this,--you don't know Polish? +That's all through those wretches. I said how it would be! What have +they done to you?' + +'Give me something to eat!' + +'Be quick indoors.' + +Every command made an irresistible impression on Bartek; hearing this +'Be quick' he drew himself up, held his hand stiffly to his side, and, +having made a half-turn, marched in the direction indicated. He stood +still at the threshold, however, and began to look wonderingly at +Magda. + +'Well, what do you want, Magda? What do...?' + +'Quick! March!' + +He entered the cottage, but fell over the threshold. The vodka was now +beginning to go to his head. He started singing, and looked round the +cottage for Franek, even saying 'Morgen, Kerl,' although Franek was +not there. After that he laughed loudly, staggered, shouted 'Hurrah!' +and fell full length on the bed. In the evening he awoke sober and +rested, and welcomed Franek, then, having got some pence out of Magda, +he took his triumphant way to the inn. The glory of his deeds had +already preceded him to Pognębin, since more than one of the soldiers +from other divisions of the same regiment, having returned earlier, +had related how he had distinguished himself at Gravelotte and Sedan. +So now when the rumour spread that the conqueror was at the inn, all +his old comrades hastened there to welcome him. + +No one would have recognized our friend Bartek, as he now sat at the +table. He, formerly so meek, was to be seen striking his fist on the +table, puffing himself out and gobbling like a turkey-cock. + +'Do you remember, you fellows, that time I did for the French, what +Steinmetz said?' + +'How could we forget?' + +'People used to talk about the French, and be frightened of them, but +they are a poor lot--_was_? They run like hares into the lettuce, and +run away like hares too. They don't drink beer either, nothing but +strong wine.' + +'That's it!' + +'When we burnt a town they would wring their hands immediately and cry +"Pitié, pitié,"[7] as if they meant they would give us a drink if we +would only leave them alone. But we paid no attention to them.' + +'Then can one understand their gibberish?' enquired a young farmer's +lad. + +'You wouldn't understand, because you are stupid, but I understand. +"Doné di pę!"[8] Do you understand?' + +'But what did you do?' + +'Do you know about Paris? We had one battle after another there, but +we won them all. They have no good commanders. People say so too. "The +ground enclosed by the hedge is good," they say, "but it has been +badly managed." Their officers are bad managers, and their generals +are bad managers, but on our side they are good.' + +Maciej Kierz, the wise old innkeeper of Pognębin, began to shake his +head. + +'Well, the Germans have been victorious in a terrible war; they have +been victorious--but I always thought they would be. But the Lord +alone knows what will come out of it for us.' + +Bartek stared at him. + +'What do you say?' + +'The Germans have never cared to consider us much, anyhow, but, now +they will be as stuck up as if there were no God above them. And they +will illtreat us still more than they do already.' + +'But that's not true!' Bartek said. + +Old Kierz was a person of such authority in Pognębin that all the +village always thought as he did, and it was sheer audacity to +contradict him. But Bartek was a conqueror now, and an authority +himself. All the same they gazed at him in astonishment, and even in +some indignation. + +'Who are you, to quarrel with Maciej? Who are you--?' + +'What's Maciej to me? It isn't to such as he that I have talked, you +see! Why, you fellows, I talked, didn't I, to Steinmetz--_was_? But +let Maciej fancy what he likes. We shall be better off now.' + +Maciej looked at the conqueror for a moment. + +'You Blockhead!' he said. + +Bartek struck his fist on the table, making all the glasses and +pint-pots start up. + +'Still, der Kerl da! Heu! Stroh!' + +'Silence, no row! Ask the Priest or the Count, Blockhead.' + +'Was the Priest in the war? Or was the Count there? But I was there. +It's not true, boys. They'll know now how to respect us. Who won the +battle? We won it, I won it. Now they'll give us anything we ask for. +If I had wanted to become a land-owner in France, I should have stayed +there. The Government knows very well who gave the French the best +beating. And our regiment was the best. They said so in the military +despatches. So now the Poles will get the upper hand;--do you see?' + +Kierz waved his hand, stood up, and went out. Bartek had carried off +the victory in the field of politics also. The young men remaining +with him, regarded him as a perfect marvel. He continued: + +'As if they wouldn't give me anything I want! If I don't get it, I +should like to know who would! Old Kierz is a scoundrel, do you see? +The Government commands you to fight, so you must fight. Who will +illtreat me? The Germans? Is it likely?' + +Here he again displayed his crosses and medals. + +'And for whom did I beat the French? Not for the Germans, surely? I am +a better man now than a German, for there's not one German as strong. +Bring us some beer! I have talked to Steinmetz, and I have talked to +Podbielski. Bring us some beer!' + +They slowly prepared for their carouse. + +Bartek began to sing: + + Drink, drink, drink, + As long as in my pocket + Still the pennies chink! + +Suddenly he took a handful of pence from his pocket. + +'Beer! I am a gentleman now.--Won't you? I tell you in France we were +not so flush of money;--there was little we didn't burn, and few +people we didn't put a shot into!--God doesn't know which--of the +French--.' + +A tippler's moods are subject to rapid changes. Bartek unexpectedly +raked together the money from the table, and began to exclaim sadly: + +'Lord, have mercy on the sins of my soul!' + +Then, propping both elbows on the table, and hiding his head in his +hands, he was silent. + +'What's the matter?' inquired one of the drinkers. + +'Why was I to blame for them?' Bartek murmured sadly. 'It was their +own look-out. I was sorry for them, for they were both in my hands. +Lord! have mercy! One was as the ruddy dawn! next day he was as white +as cheese. And even after that I still--Vodka!' + +A moment of gloomy silence followed. The men looked at one another in +astonishment. + +'What is he saying?' one asked. + +'He is settling something with his conscience.' + +'A man must drink in spite of that war.' + +He filled up his glass of vodka once or twice, then he spat, and his +good humour unexpectedly returned. + +'Have you ever stood talking to Steinmetz? But I have! Hurrah!--Drink! +Who pays? I do!' + +'You may pay, you drunkard,' sounded Magda's voice, 'but I will repay +you! Never fear!' + +Bartek looked at his wife with glassy eyes. + +'Have you talked to Steinmetz? Who are you?' + +Instead of replying to him, Magda turned to the interested listeners, +and began to exclaim: + +'Oh, you men, you wretched men, do you see the disgrace and misery I +am in? He came back, and I was glad to welcome him as a good man, but +he came back drunk. He has forgotten God, and he has forgotten +Polish. He went to sleep, he woke up sober, and now he's drinking +again, and paying for it with my money, which I had earned by my own +work. And where have you taken that money from? Isn't it what I have +earned by all my trouble and slavery? I tell you men, he's no longer a +Catholic, he's not a man any more, he's bewitched by the Germans, he +jabbers German, and is just waiting to do harm to people. He's +possessed....' + +Here the woman burst into tears; then, raising her voice an octave +higher:--'He was stupid, but he was good. But now, what have they done +to him? I looked out for him in the evening, I looked out for him in +the morning, and I have lived to see him. There is no peace and no +mercy anywhere. Great God! Merciful God!--If you had only left it +alone,--if you had only remained German altogether!' + +Her last words ended in such a wail, it was almost like a cadence. But +Bartek merely said: + +'Be quiet, or I shall do for you!' + +'Strike me, hit my head, hit me now, kill me, murder me!' the woman +screamed, and stretching her neck forward, she turned to the man. + +'And you fellows, watch!--' + +But the men were beginning to disperse. The inn was soon deserted, and +only Bartek and his wife, with her neck stretched forward, remained. + +'Why do you stretch out your neck like a goose?' murmured Bartek. 'Go +home.' + +'Hit me!' repeated Magda. + +'Well, I shan't hit,' replied Bartek, putting his hands into his +pockets. Here the innkeeper, wishing to put an end to the quarrel, +turned out one of the lights. The room became dark and silent. After a +while Magda's shrill voice sounded through the darkness: + +'Hit me!' + +'I shan't hit,' replied Bartek's triumphant voice. + +Two figures were to be seen going by moonlight from the inn to the +cottage. One of them, walking in front, was sobbing loudly; that was +Magda; after her, hanging his head and following humbly enough, went +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + + +CHAPTER VII + +Bartek went home so tipsy that for some days he was unfit for work. +This was most unfortunate for all his household affairs, which were in +need of a strong man to look after them. Magda did her best. She +worked from morning till night, and the neighbours helped her as well +as they could, but even so she could not make both ends meet, and the +household was being ruined little by little. Then there were a few +small debts to the German Colonist, Just, who, having at a favourable +moment bought some thirteen acres of waste land at Pognębin, now had +the best property in the whole village. He had ready money besides, +which he lent out at sufficiently high interest. He lent it chiefly to +the owner of the property, Count Jarzyński, who bore the nickname of +the 'Golden Prince,' but who was obliged to keep up his house in a +style of befitting splendour for that very reason. Just, however, also +lent to peasants. For six months Magda had owed him some twenty +thalers, part of which she had borrowed for her housekeeping, and +part to send to Bartek during the war. Yet that need not have +mattered. God had granted a good harvest, and it would have been +possible to repay the debt out of the incoming crop, provided that the +hands and the labour were forthcoming. Unluckily Bartek could not +work. Magda did not quite believe this, and went to the priest for +help, thinking he might rouse her husband; but this was really +impossible. When at all tired, Bartek grew short of breath and his +wounds pained him. So he sat in front of the cottage all day long, +smoking his clay pipe with the figure of Bismarck in white uniform and +a Cuirassier's helmet, and gazed at the world with the drowsy eyes of +a man still feeling the effects of bodily fatigue. He pondered a +little on the war, a little on his victories, on Magda,--a little on +everything, a little on nothing. + +One day, as he sat thus, he heard Franek crying in the distance on his +way home from school. He was howling till the echoes rang. + +Bartek pulled his pipe out of his mouth. + +'Why, Franek, what's the matter with you?' + +'What's the matter?' repeated Franek, sobbing. + +'Why are you crying?' + +'Why shouldn't I cry, when I have had my ears boxed?' + +'Who boxed your ears?' + +'Who? Why, Herr Boege!' + +Herr Boege filled the post of schoolmaster at Pognębin. + +'And has he a right to box your ears?' + +'I suppose so, as he did it.' + +Magda, who had been hoeing in the garden, came through the hedge, and, +with the hoe in her hand, went up to the child. + +'What are you saying?' she asked. + +'What am I saying--? If that Boege didn't call me a Polish pig, and +give me a box on the ears, and say that just as they have beaten the +French now, so they will trample us underfoot, for they are the +strongest. And I had done nothing to him, but he had asked me who is +the greatest person in the world, and I had said it was the Holy +Father, but he boxed my ears, and I began to cry, and he called me a +Polish pig, and said that just as they have beaten the French....' + +Franek was beginning it all over again,--'and he said, and I +said,'--but Magda covered his mouth with her hand, and she herself, +turning to Bartek, exclaimed:-- + +'Do you hear? Do you hear? Go to the French war, then let a German +beat your child like a dog!--Curse him! Go to the war, and let this +Swabian kill your child!--You have your reward!... May....' + +Here Magda, moved by her own eloquence, also began to cry to Franek's +accompaniment. Bartek stared open-mouthed with astonishment, and could +not bring out a single word, or comprehend in the least what had +happened. How was this? And what of his victories?--He sat on in +silence for some moments, then suddenly something leaped into his +eyes, and the blood rushed to his face. With ignorant people +astonishment, like terror, often turns to rage. Bartek sprang up +suddenly, and jerked out through his clenched teeth:-- + +'I will talk to him!' + +And he went out. It was not far to go; the school lay close to the +church. Herr Boege was just standing in front of the verandah, +surrounded by a herd of young pigs, to which he was throwing pieces of +bread. + +He was a tall man, about fifty years of age, still as vigorous as an +oak. He was not particularly stout, but his face was very fat, and he +had a pair of very protruding eyes which expressed courage and energy. + +Bartek went up to him very quickly. + +'German, why have you been beating my child? _Was?_' he asked. + +Herr Boege took a few steps backwards, measured him with a glance +without a shade of fear, and said phlegmatically:-- + +'Begone, Polish prize-fighter!' + +'Why have you been beating my child?' repeated Bartek. + +'I will beat you too, you low Polish scoundrel! I will show you who is +master here. Go to the devil, go to the law,--begone!' + +Bartek, having seized the schoolmaster by the shoulder, began to shake +him roughly, crying in a hoarse voice:-- + +'Do you know who I am? Do you know who did for the French? Do you know +who talked to Steinmetz? Why do you beat my child, you cursed Swabian +dog?' + +Herr Boege's protruding eyes glared no less than Bartek's, but Boege +was a strong man, and he resolved to free himself from his assailant +by a single blow. This blow descended with a loud smack on the face of +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + +At that the man forgot everything. Boege's head was shaken from side +to side with a swift motion recalling a pendulum, but with this +difference that the shaking was alarmingly rapid. The formidable +vanquisher of Turcos and Zouaves awoke in Bartek once more. Boege's +twelve year old son, Oscar, a lad as strong as his father, ran in vain +to his assistance. A short, but terrible struggle took place, in which +the son fell to the ground, and the father felt himself lifted up into +the air. Bartek, raising his hand, held him there, he himself +scarcely knew how. Unluckily the tub of dishwater, which Herr Boege +had been assiduously mixing for the pigs, stood near. Into this tub +Herr Boege now capsized, and a moment later his feet were to be seen +projecting from it, and kicking violently. His wife darted out of the +house:-- + +'Help, to the rescue!' + +The German colonists rushed from the houses near to their neighbour's +assistance. Some of them fell on Bartek and began to belabour him with +sticks and stones. In the general confusion which followed it was +difficult to distinguish Bartek from his adversaries: some thirteen +bodies were to be seen rolling round in a single mass, and struggling +convulsively. + +Suddenly, however, from out of this fighting mass Bartek burst forth +like fury, making towards the hedge with all his might. + +The Germans ran after him, but an alarming crack was heard in the +hedge at the same moment, and Bartek's iron hands brandished a stout +stick. + +He returned raging and furious, holding the stick in the air: they all +fled. + +Bartek went after them, but luckily did not overtake anyone. Thus his +rage cooled, and he began to retreat homewards. Ah! if only it had +been the French he had been facing! His retreat would then have made +immortal history. + +As it was, he was being attacked by about a dozen people who, when +they had reassembled, set on him afresh. Bartek retired slowly, like a +wild boar pursued by dogs. He turned round now and then and stood +still: then his pursuers stood still too. The stick had earned their +complete respect. + +They threw stones at him, nevertheless, one of which wounded Bartek in +the forehead. The blood poured into his eyes, and he felt himself +growing faint. He swayed once or twice, let go the stick, and fell +down. + +'Hurrah!' cried the Germans. + +But by the time they reached him, Bartek had got up again: then they +held back. This wounded wolf was still dangerous. Besides, he was now +not far from the first cottage, and some labourers could be seen in +the distance hurrying to the battlefield at full speed. The Germans +retired to their houses. + +'What has happened?' enquired the newcomers. + +'I have been trying my hand a bit on the Germans,' Bartek answered. +And he fainted. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It proved a serious affair. The German newspapers published flaming +articles on the persecutions to which the peaceful German population +was subjected at the hands of the barbarian and ignorant masses, who +were roused by socialist agitation and religious fanaticism. Boege +became a hero. He, the quiet, gentle schoolmaster, spreading the light +of learning on the far borders of the Empire; he, the true missionary +of culture amid barbarians, had fallen a first victim to the riot. It +was fortunate that there were a hundred million Germans to stand up +for him, who would never allow.... And so on. + +Bartek did not know what a storm was brewing over his head. On the +contrary, he was in good spirits; he was certain that he would win at +the trial. For Boege had beaten his child, and had dealt him the first +blow, and it had afterwards been he who had been attacked from behind! +Surely he had a right to defend himself. They had also thrown a stone +at his head,--actually thrown it at him, who had been mentioned in the +daily despatches, who had won the battle of Gravelotte, had talked to +Steinmetz himself, and received so many medals. It is true it never +entered his head that the Germans did not know all this when they +wronged him so greatly, any more than it occurred to him that Boege +could substantiate his threat to Pognębin that the Germans would now +trample it underfoot in the same way in which they, the Pognębinites, +had so thoroughly beaten the French whenever they had had an +opportunity. But as for himself, he was certain that public opinion +and the Government would be in his favour. They would certainly know +who he was, and what he had done during the war. If he was not a +different man to what he thought him, Steinmetz would espouse his +cause. Since Bartek was the poorer through the war, and his house in +debt, they were, anyhow, not doing him justice. + +All the same, the police from Pognębin rode up to Bartek's house. They +had expected serious resistance, for as many as five appeared with +loaded revolvers. They were mistaken; Bartek had not thought of +offering any resistance. They told him to get into the carriage,--and +he got in. Magda alone was desperate, persistently repeating:-- + +'Oh dear, what did you fight those French for? You will catch it now, +poor fellow, that you will!' + +'Be quiet, stupid!' Bartek answered, and smiled quite cheerfully to +the passers-by as he drove along. + +'I'll show them who it is they have offended!' he cried from the +carriage. + +And, covered with his medals, he drove along to the trial like a +conqueror. + +As a matter of fact, the trial went in his favour. The judge decided +to be lenient under the circumstances: Bartek was only condemned to +three months' imprisonment. + +In addition to this he had to pay a fine of 150 marks to the Boege +family and 'other injured colonists.' + +'Nevertheless the prisoner,' wrote the _Posener Zeitung_ in the +Criminal Report, 'showed not the slightest sign of contrition when the +sentence was passed on him, but poured forth such a stream of +invective, and began to enumerate his so-called services to the State +in such an impudent manner, that it is surprising these insults to the +Court and the German nation,' etc., etc. + +Meanwhile Bartek in prison quietly recalled his deeds at Gravelotte, +Sedan, and Paris. + +We should, however, be doing an injustice in asserting that Herr +Boege's action called forth no public censure. Very much the reverse. +On a certain rainy morning a Polish Member of Parliament pointed out +with great eloquence that the attitude of the Government towards the +Poles had altered in Posen; that, considering the courage and +sacrifice displayed by the Polish regiments during the war, it would +be fitting to have more regard for justice in the Polish provinces; +finally, that Herr Boege at Pognębin had abused his position as +schoolmaster by beating a Polish child, calling it a Polish pig, and +holding out hopes that after this war the inhabitants would trample +the native population under foot. The rain fell as the Member was +speaking, and as such weather makes people sleepy, the Conservatives +yawned, the National-Liberals yawned, the Centre yawned,--for they +were still being faced by the 'Kultur-Kampf.' + +Following immediately on this 'Polish question' the Chamber proceeded +to the order of the day. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in prison, or rather, he lay in the prison +infirmary, for the blow from the stone had re-opened the wound which +he had received in the war. + +When not feverish, he thought and thought, like the turkeycock that +died of thinking. But Bartek did not die, he merely did not arrive at +any conclusion. + +Now and then, however, during moments, which Science names 'lucida +intervalla,' it occurred to him that he had perhaps exerted himself +unnecessarily in 'doing for' the French. + +Difficult times followed for Magda. The fine had to be paid, and +there was nothing with which to pay it. The priest at Pognębin offered +to help, but it turned out that there were not quite forty marks in +his money box. The parish of Pognębin was poor; besides, the good old +man never knew how his money went. Count Jarzyński was not at home. It +was said that he had gone love-making to some rich lady in Prussia. + +Magda did not know where to turn. + +An extension of the loan was not to be thought of. What else, then? +Should she sell the horse or the cows? Meanwhile Winter passed into +Spring, the hardest time of all. It would soon be harvest, when she +would need money for extra labour, and even now it was all exhausted. +The woman wrung her hands in despair. She sent a petition to the +Magistrate, recalling Bartek's services; she never even received an +answer. The time for repayment of the loan was drawing near, and the +sequestration with it. + +She prayed and prayed, remembering bitterly the time when they were +well off, and when Bartek used to earn money at the factory in winter. +She tried to borrow money from her neighbours; they had none. The war +had made itself felt all round. She did not dare to go to Just, +because she was in his debt already, and had not even paid the +interest. However, Just unexpectedly came to see her himself. + +One afternoon she was sitting in the cottage doorway doing nothing, +for despair had drained her strength. She was gazing before her at two +golden butterflies chasing one another in the air, and thinking 'how +happy those creatures are, they live for themselves and needn't +pay'--and so on. After a while she sighed heavily, and a low cry broke +from her pale lips: 'Oh God! God!' Suddenly at the gate appeared +Just's long nose, and his long pipe beneath it. The woman turned pale. +Just addressed her:-- + +'Morgen!' + +'How are you, Herr Just?' + +'What about my money?' + +'Oh, my dear Herr Just, have pity! I am very poor, and what am I to +do? They have taken my man away,--I have to pay the fine for him,--and +I don't know where to turn. It would be better to die than to be +worried like this from day to day. Do wait a while longer, dear Herr +Just!' + +She burst out crying, and seizing Herr Just's fat, red hand, she +kissed it humbly. 'The Count will be back soon, then I will borrow +from him, and give it back to you.' + +'Well, and how will you repay the fine?' + +'How can I tell?--I might sell the cow.' + +'Then I will lend you some more.' + +'May God Almighty repay you, my dear Sir! Although you are a Lutheran, +you are a good man. I speak the truth! If only other Germans were +like you, Sir, one might bless them.' + +'But I don't lend money without interest.' + +'I know, I know.' + +'Then write me one receipt for it all.' + +'You are a kind gentleman, may God repay you too in the same way.' + +'We will draw up the bill when I go into the town.' + +He went into the town and drew up the bill, but Magda had gone to the +priest for advice beforehand. Yet what could he advise? The priest +said he was very sorry for her; the time given for repayment was +short, the interest was high, Count Jarzyński was not at home; had he +been, he might have helped. Magda, however, could not wait until the +team was sold, and she was obliged to accept Just's terms. She +contracted a debt of three hundred marks, that is, twice the amount of +the fine, for it was certainly necessary to have a few pence in the +house to carry on the housekeeping. On account of the importance of +the document, Bartek was obliged to sign it, and for this reason Magda +went to see him in prison. The conqueror was very depressed, dejected, +and ill. He had wished to forward a petition, setting forth his +grievances, but petitions were not accepted;--opinion in +Administrative circles had turned against him since the Articles in +the _Posener Zeitung_. For were not these very Authorities bound to +afford protection to the peaceful German population, who, during the +recent war, had given so many proofs of devotion and sacrifice to the +Fatherland? They were therefore obliged in fairness to reject Bartek's +petition. But it is not surprising that this should have depressed him +at last. + +'We are done for all round,' he said to his wife. + +'All round,' she repeated. + +Bartek began to ruminate deeply on the circumstances. + +'It's a cruel injustice to me,' he said. + +'That man Boege persecutes one,' Magda replied. 'I went to implore +him, and he called me names too. Ah! the Germans have the upper hand +now at Pognębin. They aren't afraid of anyone.' + +'Of course, for they are the strongest,' Bartek said sadly. + +'As I am a plain woman, I tell you God is the strongest.' + +'In Him is our refuge,' added Bartek. + +They were both silent a moment, then he asked again:-- + +'Well, and what of Just?' + +'If the Lord Almighty gives us a crop, then perhaps we shall be able +to repay him. Possibly too the Count will help us, although he +himself has debts with the German. They said even before the war that +he would have to sell Pognębin. Let us hope that he will bring home a +rich wife.' + +'But will he be back soon?' + +'Who knows? They say at the house that he will soon be coming with his +wife. And directly he is back the Germans will be upon him. It's +always those Germans! They are as plentiful as worms! Wherever one +looks, whichever way one turns, whether in the village or the +town--Germans for our sins! But where are we to get help from?' + +'Perhaps you can decide on something, for you are a clever woman.' + +'What can I advise? Should I have borrowed money from Just if I could +have helped it? I did it for a good reason, but now the cottage in +which we are settled, and the land also are already his. Just is +better than other Germans, but he too has an eye to his own profit, +not other people's. He won't be lenient to us any more than he has +been lenient to others. I am not so stupid as not to know why he +sticks his money in here! But what is one to do, what is one to do?' +she cried, wringing her hands. 'Give some advice yourself, if you are +clever. You can beat the French, but what will you do without a roof +over your head, or a crust to eat?' + +The victor of Gravelotte bent his head. 'Oh Jesu! Jesu!' + +Magda had a kind heart; Bartek's grief touched her, so she said +quickly:-- + +'Never mind, dear boy, never mind. Don't worry as long as you are not +yet well. The rye is so fine, it's bending to the ground; the wheat +the same. The ground doesn't belong to the Germans; it's as good as +ever it was. The fields were in a bad state before your quarrel, but +now they are growing so well, you'll see!' + +Magda began to smile through her tears. + +'The ground doesn't belong to the Germans,' she repeated once more. + +'Magda!' Bartek said, looking at her with wide-open eyes, 'Magda!' + +'What?' + +'But,--because you are ... if....' + +Bartek felt deep gratitude towards her, but he could not express it. + + +CHAPTER IX + +In truth Magda was worth more than ten other women put together. Her +manner towards Bartek was rather curt, but she was really attached to +him. In moments of excitement, as, for example, in the prison, she +told him to his face that he was stupid; nevertheless, before other +people she would generally exclaim:--'My Bartek pretends to be stupid, +but that's his slyness.' She used frequently to say this. As a matter +of fact, Bartek was about as cunning as his horse, and without Magda +he would have been unable to manage either his holding or anything +else. Now, when everything rested on her honest shoulders, she left no +stone unturned, running hither and thither to beg for help. A week +after her last visit to the prison infirmary she ran in again to see +Bartek, breathless, beaming, and happy. + +'My word, Bartek, how are you?' she exclaimed gleefully. 'Do you know +the Count has arrived! He was married in Prussia; the young lady is a +beauty! But he has done well for himself all round in getting her; +fancy,--just fancy!' + +The owner of Pognębin had really been married and come home with his +wife, and had actually done very well by himself all round in finding +her. + +'Well, and what of that?' enquired Bartek. + +'Be quiet, Blockhead,' Magda replied. 'Oh! how out of breath I am! Oh +Jesu! I went to pay my respects to the lady. I looked at her: she came +out to meet me like a queen, as young and charming as a flower, and as +beautiful as the dawn!--Oh dear, how out of breath I am!--' + +Magda took her handkerchief, and began to wipe the perspiration from +her face. The next instant she started talking again in a gasping +voice:-- + +'She had a blue dress like that blue-bottle. I fell at her feet, and +she gave me her hand;--I kissed it,--and her hands are as sweet and +tiny as a child's. She is just like a saint in a picture, and she is +good, and feels for poor people. I began to beg her for help.--May God +give her health!--And she said, "I will do," she said, "whatever lies +in my power." And she has such a pretty little voice that when she +speaks one does feel pleased. So then I began to tell her that there +are unhappy people in Pognębin, and she said, "Not only in Pognębin," +and then I burst into tears, and she too. And then the Count came in, +and he saw that she was crying, so he would have liked to take her and +give her a little kiss. Gentlefolk aren't like us! Then she said to +him, "Do what you can for this woman." And he said, "Anything in the +world, whatever you wish."--May the Mother of God bless her, that +lovely creature, may She bless her with children and with health!--The +Count said at once: "You must be heavily in debt, if you have fallen +into the hands of the Germans, but," he said, "I will help you, and +also against Just."' + +Bartek began to scratch his neck. + +'But the Germans have got hold of him too.' + +'What of that? His wife is rich. They could buy all the Germans in +Pognębin now, so it was easy for him to talk like that. "The +election," he said, "is coming on before long, and people had better +take care not to vote for Germans; but I will make short work of Just +and Boege." And the lady put her arm round his neck,--and the Count +asked after you, and said, "if he is ill, I will speak to the doctor +about giving him a certificate to show that he is unfit to be +imprisoned now. If they don't let him off altogether," he said, "he +will be imprisoned in the winter, but he is needed now for working the +crops." Do you hear? The Count was in the town yesterday, and invited +the doctor to come on a visit to Pognębin to-day. He's not a German. +He'll write the certificate. In the winter you'll sit in prison like +a king, you'll be warm, and they'll give you meat to eat; and now you +are going home to work, and Just will be repaid, and possibly the +Count won't want any interest, and if we can't give it all back in the +Autumn, I'll beg it from the lady. May the Mother of God bless her.... +Do you hear?' + +'She is a good lady. There are not many such!' Bartek said at once. + +'You must fall at her feet, I tell you,--but no, for then that lovely +head would bend to you! If only God grants us a crop. And do you see +where the help has come from? Was it from the Germans? Did they give a +single penny for your stupid head? Well, they gave you as much as it +was worth! Fall at the lady's feet, I say!' + +'I can't do otherwise,' Bartek replied resolutely. + +Fortune seemed to smile on the conqueror once more. He was informed +some days later that for reasons of health he would be released from +prison until the winter. He was ordered to appear before the +Magistrate. The man who, bayonet in hand, had seized flags and guns, +now began to fear a uniform more than death. A deep, unconscious +feeling was growing in his mind that he was being persecuted, that +they could do as they liked with him, and that there was some mighty, +yet malevolent and evil power above him, which, if he resisted, would +crush him. So there he stood before the Magistrate, as formerly before +Steinmetz, upright, his body drawn in, his chest thrown forward, not +daring to breathe. There were some officers present also: they +represented war and the military prison to Bartek. The officers looked +at him through their gold eye-glasses with the pride and disdain +befitting Prussian officers towards a private soldier and Polish +peasant. He stood holding his breath, and the Magistrate said +something in a commanding tone. He did not ask or persuade, he +commanded and threatened. A Member had died in Berlin, and the writs +for a fresh election had been issued. + +'You Polish dog, just you dare to vote for Count Jarzyński, just you +dare!' + +At this the officers knitted their brows into threatening leonine +wrinkles. One, lighting his cigar, repeated after the Magistrate 'Just +you dare!' and Bartek the Conqueror's heart died within him. When he +heard the order given, 'Go!' he made a half turn to the left, went out +and took breath. They told him to vote for Herr Schulberg of Great +Krzywda; he paid no attention to the command, but took a deep breath. +For he was going to Pognębin, he could be at home during harvest time, +the Count had promised to pay Just. He walked out of the town; the +ripening cornfields surrounded him on every side, the heavy blades +hurtling one another in the wind, and murmuring with a sound dear to +the peasant's ear. Bartek was still weak, but the sun warmed him. 'Ah! +how beautiful the world is!' this worn-out soldier thought. + +It was not much further to Pognębin. + + +CHAPTER X + +'The Election! The Election!' + +Countess Marya Jarzyński's head was full of it, and she thought, +talked and dreamt of nothing else. + +'You are a great politician,' an aristocratic neighbour said to her, +kissing her small hands in a snake-like way. But the 'great +politician' blushed like a cherry, and answered with a beautiful +smile:-- + +'Oh, we only do what we can!' + +'Count Józef will be elected,' the nobleman said with conviction, and +the 'great politician' answered:-- + +'I should wish it very much, though not alone for Józef's sake, but' +(here the 'great politician' dropped her imprudent hands again), 'for +the common cause...' + +'By God! Bismarck is in the right!' cried the nobleman, kissing the +tiny hands once more. After which they proceeded to discuss the +canvassing. The nobleman himself undertook Krzywda Dolna and Mizerów, +(Great Krzywda was lost, for Herr Schulberg owned all the property +there), and Countess Marya was to occupy herself specially with +Pognębin. She was all aglow with the _rôle_ she was to fill, and she +certainly lost no time. She was daily to be seen at the cottages on +the main road, holding her skirt with one hand, her parasol with the +other, while from under her skirt peeped her tiny feet, tripping +enthusiastically in the great political cause. She went into the +cottages, she said to the people working on the road, 'The Lord help +you!' She visited the sick, made herself agreeable to the people, and +helped where she could. She would have done the same without politics, +for she had a kind heart, but she did it all the more on this account. +Why should not she also contribute her share to the political cause? +But she did not dare confess to her husband that she had an +irresistible desire to attend the village meeting. In imagination she +had even planned the speech she would make at the meeting. And what a +speech it would be! What a speech! True, she would certainly never +dare to make it, but if she dared--why then! Consequently when the +news reached Pognębin that the Authorities had prohibited the meeting, +the 'great politician' burst into a fit of anger, tore one +handkerchief up completely, and had red eyes all day. In vain her +husband begged her not to 'demean' herself to such a degree; next day +the canvassing was carried on with still greater fervour. Nothing +stopped Countess Marya now. She visited thirteen cottages in one day, +and talked so loudly against the Germans that her husband was obliged +to check her. But there was no danger. The people welcomed her gladly, +they kissed her hands and smiled at her, for she was so pretty and her +cheeks were so rosy that wherever she went she brought brightness with +her. Thus she came to Bartek's cottage also. Although Łysek did not +bark at her, Magda in her excitement hit him on the head with a stick. + +'Oh lady, my beautiful lady, my dear lady!' cried Magda, seizing her +hands. + +In accordance with his resolve, Bartek threw himself at her feet, +while little Franek first kissed her hand, then stuck his thumb into +his mouth and lost himself in whole-hearted admiration. + +'I hope'--the young lady said after the first greetings were over,--'I +hope, my friend Bartek, that you will vote for my husband, and not for +Herr Schulberg.' + +'Oh my dear lady!' Magda exclaimed, 'who would vote for +Schulberg?--Give him the ten plagues! The lady must excuse me, but +when one gets talking about the Germans, one can't help what one +says.' + +'My husband has just told me that he has repaid Just.' + +'May God bless him!' Here Magda turned to Bartek. 'Why do you stand +there like a post? I must beg the lady's pardon, but he's wonderfully +dumb.' + +'You will vote for my husband, won't you?' the lady asked. 'You are +Poles, and we are Poles, so we will hold to one another.' + +'I should throttle him if he didn't vote for him,' Magda said. 'Why do +you stand there like a post? He's wonderfully dumb. Bestir yourself a +bit!' + +Bartek again kissed the lady's hand, but he remained silent, and +looked as black as night. The Magistrate was in his mind. + +The day of the Election drew near, and arrived. Count Jarzyński was +certain of victory. All the neighbourhood assembled at Pognębin. After +voting the gentlemen returned there from the town to wait for the +priest, who was to bring the news. Afterwards there was to be a +dinner, but in the evening the noble couple were going to Posen, and +subsequently to Berlin also. Several villages in the Electoral +Division had already polled the day beforehand. The result would be +made known on this day. The company was in a cheerful frame of mind. +The young lady was slightly nervous, yet full of hope and smiles, and +made such a charming hostess that everyone agreed Count Józef had +found a real treasure in Prussia. This treasure was quite unable at +present to keep quiet in one place, and ran from guest to guest, +asking each for the hundredth time to assure her that 'Józio would be +elected.' She was not actually ambitious, and it was not out of vanity +that she wished to be the wife of a Member, but she was dreaming in +her young mind that she and her husband together had a real mission to +accomplish. So her heart beat as quickly as at the moment of her +wedding, and her pretty little face was lighted up with joy. Skilfully +manœuvering amidst her guests, she approached her husband, drew him +by the hand, and whispered in his ear, like a child, nicknaming +someone, 'The Hon. Member!' He smiled, and both were happy at the most +trifling word. They both felt a great wish to give one another a warm +embrace, but owing to the presence of their guests, this could not be. +Everyone, however, was looking out of the window every moment, for the +question was a really important one. The former Member, who had died, +was a Pole, and this was the first time in this Division that the +Germans had put up a candidate of their own. Their military success +had evidently given them courage, but just for that reason it the more +concerned those assembled at the manor house at Pognębin to secure the +election of their candidate. Before dinner there was no lack of +patriotic speeches, which especially moved the young hostess who was +unaccustomed to them. Now and then she suffered an access of fear. +Supposing there should be a mistake in counting the votes? But there +would surely not only be Germans serving on the Committee! The +principal landowners would simply flock to her husband, so that it +would be possible to dispense with counting the votes. She had heard +this a hundred times, but she still wished to hear it! Ah! and would +it not make all the difference whether the local population had an +enemy in Parliament, or someone to champion their cause? It would soon +be decided,--in a short moment, in fact,--for a cloud of dust was +rising from the road. + +'The priest is coming! The priest is coming!' reiterated those +present. The lady grew pale. Excitement was visible on every face. +They were certain of victory, all the same this final moment made +their hearts beat more rapidly. But it was not the priest, it was the +steward returning from the town on horseback. Perhaps he might know +something? He tied his horse to the gate post, and hurried to the +house. The guests and the hostess rushed into the hall. + +'Is there any news?--Is there any? Has our friend been +elected?--What?--Come here!--Do you know for certain?--Has the result +been declared?' + +The questions rose and fell like rockets, but the man threw his cap +into the air. + +'The Count is elected!' + +The lady sat down on a bench abruptly, and pressed her hand to her +fast beating heart. + +'Hurrah! Hurrah!' the neighbours shouted, 'Hurrah!' + +The servants rushed out from the kitchen. + +'Hurrah! Down with the Germans! Long live the Member! And my lady the +Member's wife!' + +'But the priest?' someone asked. + +'He will be here directly;' the steward answered, 'they are still +counting....' + +'Let us have dinner!' the Hon. Member cried. + +'Hurrah!' several people repeated. + +They all walked back again from the hall to the drawing room. +Congratulations to the host and hostess were now offered more calmly; +the lady herself, however, did not know how to restrain her joy, and +disregarding the presence of others, threw her arm round her husband's +neck. But they thought none the worse of her for this; on the +contrary, they were all much touched. + +'Well, we still survive!' the neighbour from Mizerów said. + +At this moment there was a clatter along the corridor, and the priest +entered the drawing room, followed by old Maciej, of Pognębin. + +'Welcome! Welcome!' they all cried. 'Well,--how great?' + +The priest was silent a moment; then as it were into the very face of +this universal joy he suddenly hurled the two harsh, brief words: + +'Schulberg--elected!' + +A moment of astonishment followed, a volley of hurried and anxious +questions, to which the priest again replied: + +'Schulberg is elected!' + +'How?--What has happened?--By what means?--The steward said it was not +so.--What has happened?' + +Meanwhile Count Jarzyński was leading poor Countess Marya out of the +room, who was biting her hankerchief, not to burst into tears or to +faint. + +'Oh what a misfortune, what a misfortune!' the assembled guests +repeated, striking their foreheads. + +A dull sound like people shouting for joy rose at that moment from the +direction of the village. The Germans of Pognębin were thus gleefully +celebrating their victory. + +Count and Countess Jarzyński returned to the drawing room. He could be +heard saying to his wife at the door, 'Il faut faire bonne mine,' and +she had stopped crying already. Her eyes were dry and very red. + +'Will you tell us how it was?' the host asked quietly. + +'How could it be otherwise, Sir,' old Maciej said, 'seeing that even +the Pognębin peasants voted for Schulberg?' + +'Who did so?' + +'What? Those here?' + +'Why, yes; I myself and everyone saw Bartek Słowik vote for +Schulberg.' + +'Bartek Słowik?' the lady said. + +'Why, yes. The others are at him now for it. The man is rolling on the +ground, howling, and his wife is scolding him. But I myself saw how he +voted.' + +'From such an enlightened village!' the neighbour from Mizerów said. + +'You see, Sir,' Maciej said, 'others who were in the war also voted as +he did. They say that they were ordered--' + +'That's cheating, pure cheating!--The election is +void--Compulsion!--Swindling!' cried different voices. + +The dinner at the Pognębin manor house was not cheerful that day. + +The host and hostess left in the evening, but not as yet for Berlin, +only for Dresden. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in his cottage, miserable, sworn at, ill-treated +and hated, a stranger even to his own wife, for even she had not +spoken a word to him all day. + +In the autumn God granted a crop, and Herr Just, who had just come +into possession of Bartek's farm, felt pleased, for he had not done at +all a bad stroke of business. + +Some months later three people walked out of Pognębin to the town, a +peasant, his wife, and child. The peasant was very bent, more like an +old man than an able-bodied one. They were going to the town because +they could not find work at Pognębin. It was raining. The woman was +sobbing bitterly at losing her cottage, and her native place. The +peasant was silent. The road was empty, there was not a carriage, not +a human being to be seen; the cross alone, wet from the rain, +stretched its arms above them.--The rain fell more and more heavily, +dimming the light. + +Bartek, Magda and Franek were going to the town because the victor of +Gravelotte and Sedan had to serve his term of imprisonment during the +winter, on account of the affair with Boege. + +Count and Countess Jarzyński continued to enjoy themselves in Dresden. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Nightingale. + +[2] 'Człowiek' and 'Słowik.' + +[3] 'Człowiek' (man). + +[4] A popular song. Skrzynecki was a well-known leader in the Polish +Revolution of 1863. + +[5] 'They are going.' 'Jadom' and 'jadą' are pronounced similarly. + +[6] 'Macki' = 'Tommies.' + +[7] Polish 'picie' = a drink. + +[8] Polish ę = French _in_. + + + + +TWILIGHT + +STEFAN ŻEROMSKI + + +The sun was gliding into a lustrous copper haze, drawn in wide +streaks, like transparent dust, across the distant scene. It sank +behind some thick red firs left standing at the edge of a clearing and +behind the dark trunks which lay rotting on the hillside. Its beams +still lighted the corners of a cottage, gilding it and colouring it +scarlet; they penetrated the folds of grey clouds, and glittered on +the water. + +A recent storm had laid the marshy plains and newly cultivated +woodlands partly under water. Here and on the furrows of the +stubble-fields and the fresh autumn ploughing the puddles turned red +and their irridescent surface became like molten glass, while +entrancing violet shadows, dazzling to the sight, fell on the grey, +beaten-down clods; the sand hills turned yellow; the weeds growing on +the banks, the bushes at the edge of the field paths, all borrowed +some unwonted momentary colour. + +In a deep hollow surrounded by sparsely wooded hills to the east, west +and south ran a little brook, which overflowed into bays, swamps, +shallows and creeks. Tangles of reeds grew at the water's edge, lank +bulrushes, sweet-flags, and clumps of willows. The still, red water +was now shining in formless pale-green patches from under the large +leaves of the water-lilies and coarse water-weeds. + +A flight of teals was hovering above with outstretched necks, and +broke in upon the silence with the swish of their wings. Otherwise +everything was still. Even the glassy blue dragon-flies, which had +been hovering ceaselessly on their gossamer wings round the stems of +the bulrushes, had disappeared. The untiring water-flies alone yet +strayed over the illuminated surface of the swamps on their stilt-like +legs.... And there were two human beings at work. + +The marshes belonged to the manor house. Formerly the young owner, +accompanied by his spaniel, had floundered through them, shooting +ducks and snipe, which were to be found there before he cut down all +the woods. He left quite half of the land uncultivated, and having +very quickly run through his property, he found no means of supporting +himself until he went to Warsaw, where he was now selling soda-water +at a stall. + +When a new and prudent owner appeared, he inspected the fields, stick +in hand, and frequently stood still on the marshes, rubbing his nose. + +He fumbled with his hands in the swamp, dug holes, measured, +sniffed,--till he invented a strange thing. He ordered the bailiff to +hire labourers daily to dig peat, to heap barrow-loads of the mud on +to the fields, and to go on digging a hole until it was large enough +for a pond. He was to make a dyke, and to choose a lower position for +a second pond, till there were some thirteen in all; then to cut +trenches; to let the water down, build water-gates, and set fish in +the ponds. + +Walek Gibała, a day labourer without any land of his own, who was +working for wages in the neighbouring village, was hired to cart away +the peat. Gibała had been groom to the former landlord, but had not +stayed on with the new one. In the first place, the new landlord and +the new steward had lowered the wages and allowances, and, in the +second place, they made an enquiry into everything that was stolen. In +the time of the former landlord each groom used half a bushel of oats +for a pair of horses, and took the rest in the evening to the 'Berlin' +Inn, in exchange for tobacco or a drop of brandy. However, this +business had come to an end at once when the new steward appeared, and +since he justly laid the blame of it on Walek, he had boxed his ears, +and dismissed him from his service. + +So from that time Walek and his wife had lived on their daily +earnings in the village, because he could not find a situation; he was +not likely even to apply for one, so thoroughly had the steward taken +his character away. At harvest time they both earned something here +and there from the peasants, but in winter and early spring they +suffered terribly,--indescribably, from hunger. Large and bony, with +iron muscles, the man was as thin as a board, with an ashen look, +round-shouldered and weakened by privation. The woman--like a +woman--supported herself by her neighbours; she sold mushrooms, +raspberries and strawberries to the manor house, or to the Jews, and +at least thus earned a loaf of wheat-bread. But, without food, she was +no match for the man at threshing. When the bailiff gave the order for +digging in the meadows, the eyes of both sparkled. The steward himself +promised thirty kopeks for digging two cubic yards. + +Walek kept his wife occupied with the digging every day and all day. +She loaded the wheelbarrow, and he wheeled the mud on to the field +along planks thrown across the swamp. They worked feverishly. They had +two large, deep wheelbarrows, and before Walek had brought back the +empty one, the second was already full; then he threw the strap round +his shoulder and pushed the barrow up the hill. The iron wheel creaked +horribly. The liquid, dark, rank slime, thick with marsh-weeds, +overflowed and trickled down on to the man's bare knees, as the +wheelbarrows were tilted from plank to plank; it penetrated to his +neck and shoulders, marking his shirt with a dark, evil-smelling +streak. His arms ached at the elbows, his feet were painful and stiff +from being continually plunged into the mud, but--with a hard day's +work, they dug out four cubic yards:--and he knew that he had sixty +kopeks in his pocket. + +They were hopeful, for they had earned thirty roubles by the end of +the autumn. They paid their rent, bought a cask of pickled cabbage, +five bushels of potatoes, a 'sukmana,'[9] boots, some aprons and +homespun for the woman, and linen for shirts. Thus they could last +till the spring, when they would be able to earn by threshing and +weaving at other people's houses. + +All of a sudden the steward considered it excessive to give thirty +kopeks for two cubic yards. It struck him that no one would be tempted +to patter about in a swamp from daybreak to nightfall unless on the +verge of starvation, and these people had undertaken it without +hesitation. 'Twenty kopeks is enough,' he said, 'if not,--well, go +without.' + +There was nothing to be earned at this time of year, and the manor +house had enough of its own people to attend to the threshing and +machinery;--it was no use being fastidious in the matter. After this +announcement Walek went to the inn, and made a beast of himself. Next +day he beat his wife, and dragged her out to work for him. + +From that time forward--beginning when it grew light--they dug out the +four cubic yards, never stopping work from daybreak until night. + +And now, indeed, night was drawing on from afar. The distant +light-blue woods were growing dark, and melting into grey gloom. The +radiance on the waters was extinguished. Immense shadows from the red +firs standing towards the north fell on the summits of the hills, and +along the clearings. The tree trunks alone remained crimson here and +there, and then the stones. Small, fugitive rays were reflected from +these points of light, and, falling into the deep wastes created among +objects by the half-darkness, were refracted, quivered for an instant, +and went out in turn. The trees and bushes lost their convexity and +brilliance, their natural colours mingled with the grey distance, and +they appeared only as flat and completely black forms with weird +contours. + +A thick mist was already gathering in the low-lying country, chilling +the man through as he worked. The darkness was coming on in unseen +waves, creeping along the slopes of the hills, gathering to itself the +dreary colours of the stubble-fields, the water-courses, the clefts +in the hills, and the rocks. + +As the waves of mist met, others--white, transparent, and scarcely +visible--which rose from the marshes, crept along in streaks, winding +in balls round the undergrowth, trembling and curling over the surface +of the water. The cold, damp wind drove the mist along the bottom of +the valley, till it was stretched out flat like a face on the canvas +of a picture. + +'The mist is coming on,' Walkowa murmured. It was that moment of +twilight, when every form seems to be visibly reducing itself to dust +and nothingness, when a grey emptiness spreads over the surface of the +earth, looks into the eyes, and oppresses the heart with unconscious +sorrow. Terror seized Walkowa. Her hair stood on end, and a shudder +passed through her body. The mists rose like a living thing, +stealthily crawling over towards her; they came up from behind, +retreated, lay in wait, and again crept forward in more impetuous +pursuit. Her hands were clammy with the damp, it soaked through her +skin to the bone, it irritated her throat, and tickled her chest. Then +she remembered her child, whom she had not seen since noon. He was +lying asleep,--locked up in a room quite alone,--in a cradle of lime +wood, suspended from the beams of the ceiling by birch-twigs. Surely +he was crying now,--choking,--sobbing? The mother heard that cry, as +wailing and pitiful as that of a solitary bird in a desert place. It +rang in her ears, it tormented a particular spot in her brain, it tore +at her heart. She had not thought about him all day, for her hard work +had scattered all her thoughts, in fact, it had drained and +annihilated her power of thinking; but now the uncanny sensations +caused by the twilight compelled her to concentrate herself and fasten +her mind upon this small morsel of humanity. + +'Walek' she said timidly, when the man brought up the barrow, 'shall I +be off to the cottage and finish scraping the potatoes?' + +Gibała did not answer, as though he had not heard. He seized the +barrow and set forth. When he returned, the woman implored again: +'Walek, shall I be off?' + +'Eh?' he grumbled carelessly. + +She knew what his anger meant; she knew that he could catch a man +under the ribs, gather up his skin in handfuls, and, having shaken him +once or twice, throw him down like a stone among the rushes. She knew +he was capable of tearing the handkerchief from her head, twisting her +hair in a knot round his fist and dragging her in terror along the +road; or, in a fit of absent-mindedness, of pulling his spade out of +the swamp quickly, and cutting her across the head without +considering--whether it had hit, or not hit her. + +But impatient anxiety, kindled to the point of pain, rose above the +fear of punishment. At moments the woman thought of running away; it +only meant creeping into the little ravine, leaping across the +brooklet, and then making straight through the fields and plantations. +As she stooped and filled her barrow, she was already escaping in +thought, leaping like a marten, scarcely feeling the pain of running +barefoot across the stubble, overgrown with thick blackthorn and +blackberries. The sharp clods would sting not only her feet but her +heart. She would come running to the cottage, and open the bolt with +the wooden key; the warmth and close air of the room would meet her +face; she would clasp the cradle ... Walek would kill her when he +returned to the cottage,--beat her to death:--but what then? That +would be for later.... + +As soon, however, as Walek emerged from the mist, she was seized +afresh by a dread of his fists. Again she humbly begged him, although +she knew that her tormentor would not set her free: + +'Perhaps the baby is dead in there.' + +He answered nothing, threw down the strap of the barrow from his +shoulder, approached his wife, and, by a movement of the head, +pointed to the stakes up to which they must dig that day. Then he +seized the spade, and began to throw mud into his barrow, time after +time. He worked without thinking, quickly,--as fast as he could +breathe. When he had filled the barrow he pushed it forward, running +at top speed, and said as he left: + +'Push yours too, you lazy brute....' + +She took this mild concession to the object of her love, this brutal +goodness, this hardness and severity as if it had been a caress. For +it would be possible to finish the work far sooner if they both +wheeled the mud. Rapidly and impetuously she now imitated his +movements, like a monkey, and shovelled up the mud four times more +quickly, no longer drawing on her muscular peasant's strength, but on +her nervous power. Her chest rattled, dazzling colours passed under +her eyelids, she felt faint, and large burning tears fell from her +eyes into that cold, evil-smelling filth,--tears of unheeded pain. +Every time she struck the spade into the ground she looked to see if +it was still far to the stakes; her barrow ready, she seized it, and +ran at full tilt after the man. + +The mists rose high; they drew past the rushes and stood over the tops +of the alders in an unmoving wall. The trees loomed through them as +patches of indefinite colour, astonishingly large, but imperfect +forms, which ran across the deep gorge like monstrous, terrible +apparitions. + +Their heads fell forward; their hands executed a uniform movement; +their bodies were bowed to the ground.... + +The wheels of the barrows clattered and whined. Waves of mist like +milk when poured into water, swayed amid the darkening hills. + +The evening star shone low in the sky, and tremblingly threw its +feeble light across the darkness. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Peasant's dress. + + + + +TEMPTATION + +STEFAN ŻEROMSKI + + +Countess Anna Krzywosąd--Nasławska's youngest son had decided to take +Holy Orders. From boyhood he had shown an unusual fondness for prayer, +had been silent and obedient, and worn an earnest, pious expression. +He had been educated in Rome under the eye of a distant cousin--a +Cardinal--and completed his course at the seminary there with +distinction, when barely twenty. Having not yet attained the proper +age to hold any spiritual office, he went back to his own country for +the first time for many years, and stayed at his mother's house. + +He occupied a corner room in the mansion, as cold and damp as any +monastic cell; he slept on the ground, fasted unceasingly, read Latin +books, very probably scourged himself at nights, and wore a hair shirt +under his shabby cassock. He was unspeakably good and gentle, forgave +injuries, and was over-modest. + +When he sat down, it was on the very edge of the chair, as if anxious +that when he rose quickly his cassock should hinder him and make him +move like a priest; he walked on tiptoe as if a mystic heel protected +him from the dust of the earth; he shunned society, he murmured a +prayer at the sight of a village girl. + +Every day at dawn he left the house, and went into the fields. He felt +that there he could be in closest communication with his Creator, +there ecstatic visions came to him most clearly. He followed the +beaten track through numberless rye-fields to the upland, where a +half-ruined little chapel lay hidden in the shade of the pine forest. + +One morning he went there as usual. The landscape was still buried in +the night-mist, but a violet streak of daybreak had begun to spread on +the horizon. The bearded rye brushed against his knees and scattered +large dewdrops, yet the pathway was not damp, being sheltered by the +full drooping ears. The corn, feebly illumined by the early morning +light, rose in great waves along the hill, where the undulating line +of the fields showed against the wood. The scent of earth and ripening +corn hung on the breeze, bringing a sense of health, strength, and +youth. From the dark gloom of the huge trees, whose tops were +beginning to break up the expanse of dawning blue, came the keen, damp +breath of the forest. The seminarist walked along slowly and lazily, +passing his hand over the surface of the rye. Sky larks and crested +larks rose at his feet, and dropped again like stones into the +thickly-growing corn. + +The dawn was now tinging the horizon with a rosy light; it burst forth +like a wide flash of lightning, illuminating the rifts and curves in +the dark clouds which lay idly over the wood. Unexpectedly hundreds of +red firs, crowning the summit of the hill, emerged tall and grand from +the night, their boughs standing out prominently against the +transparent background of blue, as if stretching out their arms to the +approaching sun. + +Suddenly a thrill passed through the earth. The next moment a puff of +wind, the forerunner of daybreak, stirred the boughs of the firs, and +announced alike to plant, to grass, and corn--the coming of the sun. + +It seemed as if the earth were quivering, as if her heart began to +beat. Then the wind spread its wings, and hovered over the scented +trunks, over the osiers and corn in the distance. A long, soothing +moment of death-like silence followed, and then that mysterious moment +of early dawn, when each living plant glows in its every part as if on +fire. + +The student walked with his face turned eastwards. Words of prayer +rose from his heart to his lips as the sap rises to the bark of the +pines when Spring comes. He went up to the little chapel, opened the +grey wooden door, studded with nails, and fell on his face with +outstretched hands before the picture of Christ, clumsily drawn by a +rustic hand. + +He felt as if his soul had fled from earth to the very Throne of God. +The scales had fallen from his eyes in a moment: he was gazing on the +face of the Eternal. + +All at once a rough, coarse peasant's song was heard: + + 'It was then that I liked you best, Hanka, + When you bleached yourself in the fields, in the fields, + like a gosling.' + +This was answered by a woman's voice, approaching from a distance: + + 'I did not bleach myself, I bleached a linen shirt, + But you, Kaśka, thought that I was painted.' + +The young man rose from the ground, and stood at the door of the +chapel. He saw a sturdy farmer's lad in shirt sleeves, bare-foot, in a +straw hat, and loaded like a horse, with juniper wood. This strapping +fellow was taking up a kilo of roots--digging out bushes with the +clods, and moistening his hands in the branches. A girl was going +along the path, carrying a load of weeds on her back. The corners of +her petticoat were turned up and tucked into her belt, her broad +shoulders were bent together under the heavy burden, only her head, +tied round with a red handkerchief, was raised towards the hill where +the lad was working. When she reached the turn of the path, he stopped +her, pulled down the hem of her skirt from her waist, and laid her +bundle on the ground. She pushed him away with her hands, laughing. + +The student shaded his eyes with his hand, but dropped it again the +next minute, as the sound of the two singing a fresh song echoed +through the glade. It was strange music. The wood, like a tuned +string, seemed to quiver in harmony with the sound of those two +voices: + + 'In the garden is a cherry tree, + In the orchard there are two; + I have loved you, Hanuś, since you were small, + Nobody else but you.' + +They went down into the hollow through the corn, which reached up to +their heads, bent towards one another. Those two heads stood out in +sharp relief against the dark rye, while the giant, brazen shield of +the sun was rising over the ridge. They walked thus for a long time, +never completely hidden by the corn. + +Tears flowed from under the young man's closed eyes, and he clenched +his hands convulsively. Words unknown to him, words known as longing +and the desire for love, forced themselves unnoticed to his lips. + +In a vision he saw moist eyes and a girl's long braided hair rising +and sinking in some sea cavern. An unknown force, inexpressibly sweet, +a force which could be neither expelled nor conquered, rose within +him, carrying him far away into space. His soul threw off its fetters, +and rushed forth in its wild freedom, as a colt starts for a mad +gallop.... + + + + +SRUL--FROM LUBARTÓW + +ADAM SZYMAŃSKI + + +I + +It happened in the year,...; but no matter what year. Suffice it to +say that it happened, and that it happened at Yakutsk in the beginning +of November, about a month after my arrival at that citadel of frosts. +The thermometer was down to 35 degrees Réamur. I was therefore +thinking anxiously of the coming fate of my nose and ears, which, +fresh from the West, had been making silent but perceptible protests +against their compulsory acclimatization, and to-day were to be +submitted to yet further trials. These latest trials were due to the +fact that one of the men in our colony, Peter Kurp, nicknamed +Bałdyga,[10] had died in the local hospital two days before, and early +that morning we were going to do him a last service, by laying his +wasted body in the half-frozen ground. + +I was only waiting for an acquaintance, who was to tell me the hour of +the funeral, and I had not long to wait. Having wrapped up my nose and +ears with the utmost care, I set out with the others to the hospital. + +The hospital was outside the town. In the courtyard, and at some +distance from the other buildings, stood a small shed--the mortuary. + +In this mortuary lay Bałdyga's body. + +When the doors were opened, we entered, and the scene within made a +painful impression on the few of us present. We were about ten people, +possibly a few more, and we all involuntarily looked at one another: +we were standing opposite a cold and bare reality, not veiled by any +vestige of pretence.... + +In the shed,--which possessed neither table nor stool, nothing but +walls white with hoarfrost and a floor covered with snow,--lay a large +bearded corpse, equally white, and tied up in some kind of sheet or +shirt. This was Bałdyga. + +The body, which was completely frozen, had been brought near the light +to the door, where the coffin was standing ready. + +Never shall I forget Bałdyga's face as I saw it then with the light +full upon it, and washed by the snow. There was something strange and +indescribably sad in the rough, strongly marked countenance; the large +pupils and projecting eyeballs seemed to look far away into the +distance towards the stern frosty sky. + +'That man,--he was a good sort,' one of those present said to me, +noticing the impression which the sight of Bałdyga made on me. 'He was +always steady and industrious; people who were hard up used to go to +him and he would help them. But there never was anyone so obstinate as +Kurp: he believed to the last that he would go back to the Narev.[11] +Yet before the end came it was plain that he knew he would never get +there.' + +Meanwhile the petrified body had been laid in the coffin, and placed +upon the small one-horse Yakut sledge. + +Then the tailor's wife--a person versed in religious +practices,--undertook the office of priest for such time as we could +give her, and began to sing 'Ave Maria,' while we joined in with +voices broken with emotion. After this we proceeded to the cemetery. + +We walked quickly; the frost was invigorating, and made us hasten our +steps. At last we reached the cemetery. We each threw a handful of +frozen earth on to the coffin.... A few deft strokes of the spade ... +and in a moment only a small freshly turned mound of earth remained to +bear witness to Bałdyga's yet recent existence in this world. This +witness would not last long, however,--scarcely a few months. The +spring would come, and, thawed by the sun, the mound on the grave +would sink and become even with the rest of the ground, and grass and +weeds would grow upon it. After a year or two the witnesses of the +funeral would die, or be dispersed throughout the wide world, and if +even the mother who bore him were to search for him, she would no +longer find a trace on the earth. But, indeed, none would seek for the +dead man, nor even a dog ask for him. + +Bałdyga had known this; we knew it too: and we dispersed to our houses +in silence. + +The day following the funeral the frost was yet more severe. There was +not a single building to be seen on the opposite side of the fairly +narrow street in which I lived, for a thick mist of snow crystals +overspread the earth, like a cloud. The sun could not penetrate this +mist, and although there was not a living soul in the street, the air +was so highly condensed through the extreme cold that I continually +heard the metallic sound of creaking snow, the sharp reports of the +walls and ground cracking in the frost, or the moaning song of a +Yakut. Evidently those Yakut frosts were beginning, which reduce the +most terrible Arctic cold to insignificance. They fill human beings +with unspeakable dread. Every living thing feels its utter +helplessness, and although it cowers down and shrinks into itself for +protection, knows quite well--like the cur worried by fierce +mastiffs,--that all is in vain, for sooner or later the inexorable foe +is bound to be victorious. + +And Bałdyga was continually in my mind, as if he were alive. I had sat +for hours at my half-finished task. Somehow I could not stick to work; +the pen fell from my hand, and my unruly thoughts ranged far away +beyond the snowy frontier and frosty ground. In vain I appealed to my +reason, in vain I repeated wholesome advice to myself for the tenth +time. Hitherto I had offered some resistance to the sickness which had +consumed me for several weeks; to-day I felt completely overcome and +helpless. Homesickness was devouring and making pitiless havoc of me. + +I had been unable to resist dreaming so many times already; was it +likely I should withstand the temptation to-day? The temptation was +stronger, and I was weaker than usual. + +So begone frost and snow, begone the existence of Yakutsk! I threw +down my pen, and surrounding myself with clouds of tobacco smoke, +plunged into the waters of feverish imagination. + +And how it carried me away!... My thoughts fled rapidly to the far +West, across morasses and steppes, mountains and rivers, across +countless lands and cities, and spread a scene of true enchantment +before me. There on the Vistula lay my native plains, free from misery +and human passions, beautiful and harmonious. My lips cannot utter, +nor my pen describe their charm! + +I saw the golden fields, the emerald meadows; the dense forests +murmured their old legends to me. + +I heard the rustle of the waving corn; the chirping of the feathered +poets; the sound of the giant oaks as they haughtily bid defiance to +the gale. + +And the air seemed permeated by the scent of those aromatic forests, +and those blossoming fields, adorned in virgin freshness by the blue +cornflowers and that sweetest beauty of Spring,--the innocent violet. + +... Every single nerve felt the caress of my native air.... I was +touched by the life-giving power of the sun's rays; and although the +frost outside creaked more fiercely, and showed its teeth at me on the +window panes more menacingly, yet the blood circulated in my veins +more rapidly, my head burnt, and I sat as if spellbound, deaf, no +longer seeing or hearing anything round me.... + + +II + +I did not notice that the door opened and someone entered my room, +neither did I see the circles of vapour, which form in such numbers +every time a door is opened that they obscure the face of the person +entering. I did not feel the cold: it penetrates human dwellings here +with a sort of shameless, premeditated violence. In fact, I had seen +or heard nothing until suddenly I felt a man close to me, and even +before catching sight of him, found myself involuntarily putting him +the usual Yakut question: + +'Toch nado?' ('What do you want?') + +'If you please, Sir, I am a hawker,' was the answer. + +I looked up. Although he was dressed in ox and stag's hide, I had no +doubt that a typical Polish Jew from a small town stood before me. +Anyone who had seen him at Lossitz or Sarnak would have recognized him +as easily in Yakut as in Patagonian costume. I knew him at once. And +since, as I have said, I was as yet only semi-conscious, and had asked +the question almost mechanically, the Jew now standing before me did +not interrupt my train of thought too harshly; the contrast was, +therefore, not too disagreeable. Quite the reverse. I gazed into the +well-known features with a certain degree of pleasure; the Jew's +appearance at that moment seemed quite natural, since it carried me in +thought and feeling to my native land, and the few Polish words +sounded dear to my ear. Half dreaming still, I looked at him kindly. + +The Jew stood still for a moment, then turned, and retreating to the +door, began to pull off his multifarious coverings. + +Then I came to myself, and realized that I had not yet answered him, +and that my sagacious countryman, quite misinterpreting my silence, +was anxious to dispose of his wares to me. I hastened to undeceive +him. + +'In heaven's name, man, what are you doing?' I cried quickly, 'I do +not want to buy anything; I am not wanting anything. Do not unload +yourself in vain, and go away with God's blessing!' + +The Jew stopped undoing his things, and after a moment's +consideration, came towards me with his long fur coat[12] half +trailing behind him, and began to mumble quickly in broken sentences: +'It's all right; I know you won't buy anything, Sir. I saw you, for I +have been here a long time, a very long time.... I didn't know before +that you had come.... You come from Warsaw, don't you, Sir? They only +told me yesterday evening that you had been here four months already; +what a pity it was such a time before I heard of it! I should have +come at once. I have been searching for you to-day for an hour, Sir. I +went quite to the end of the town,--and there's such a frost +here,--confound it!... If you will allow me Sir,--I won't interrupt +for long?... Only just a few words....' + +'What do you want of me?' + +'I should only like to have a little chat with you, Sir.' + +This answer did not greatly surprise me. I had already come across not +a few people, Jews among them, who had called solely for the purpose +of 'having a little chat' with a man recently arrived from their +country. Those who came were interested in the most varied topics +imaginable; there were the inquisitive gossipers pure and simple, +there were the people who only enquired after their relations, and +there were the politicians, including those whose heads had been +turned. Among those who came, however, politics always played a +specially important part. So it did not surprise me, I repeat, to hear +the wish expressed by a fresh stranger, and although I should have +been glad to rid my cottage as quickly as possible of the unpleasant +odour of the ox-hide coat,--badly tanned, as usual--I begged him in a +friendly way to take it off and sit down. + +The Jew was evidently pleased. He took a seat beside me at once and I +could now observe him closely. + +All the usual features of the Jewish race were united in the face +beside me: the large, slightly crooked nose and penetrating hawk's +eyes, the pointed beard of the colour of a well-ripened pumpkin, the +low forehead, surrounded by thick hair; all these my guest possessed. +And yet, strange to say, the haggard face expressed a certain frank +sincerity, and did not make a disagreeable impression on me. + +'Tell me where you come from, what your name is, what you are doing +here, and why you wish to see me?' + +'Please, Sir, I am Srul, from Lubartów. Perhaps you know it,--just a +stone's throw from Lublin?--Well, at home everyone thinks it a long +way from there, and formerly I thought so too. But now,' he added with +emphasis, 'we know that Lubartów is quite close to Lublin, a mere +stone's throw.' + +'And have you been here long?' + +'Very long; three good years.' + +'That is not so very long; there are people who have lived here for +over 20 years, and I met an old man from Vilna in the road, who had +been here close upon 50 years. Those have really been a long time.' + +But the Jew snubbed me. 'As to them, I can't say. I only know that I +have been here a long time.' + +'You must certainly live quite alone, if the time seems so long to +you?' + +'With my wife and child--my daughter. I had four children when I set +out, but, may the Lord preserve us, it was such a long way, we were +travelling a whole year. Do you know what such a journey means, +Sir?... Three children died in one week--died of travelling, as it +were. Three children!... An easy thing to say!... There was nowhere +even to bury them, for there was no cemetery of ours there.... I am a +Husyt,' he added more quietly. 'You know what that means Sir?... I +keep the Law strictly ... and yet God punishes me like this....' He +grew silent with emotion. + +'My friend,' I tried to say to console him a little,--'no doubt under +such circumstances it is difficult to remember that it makes no +difference; but all earth is hallowed.' + +But the Jew jumped as if he had been scalded. + +'Hallowed! how hallowed! In what way is it hallowed! What are you +saying, Sir? It's unclean! It's damned!... Hallowed earth?... You must +not talk like that, Sir, you ought to be ashamed! Is earth hallowed, +which never thaws? This earth is cursed! God doesn't wish human beings +to live here; it wouldn't have been like this, if He had wished it. +Cursed! Bad! Damned! Damned!' + +And he began to spit about him, and stamp his feet, threatening the +innocent Yakut earth with tightened lips and his shrivelled hands, and +muttering Jewish maledictions. At last, exhausted by the effort, he +fell rather than sat down at the table beside me. + +All exiles, without regard to religion or race, dislike Siberia: +evidently a fanatic does not learn to hate it half-heartedly. I paused +until he had calmed himself. Educated in a severe school, the Jew +quickly regained his self-possession and mastered his emotion, and +when I gazed questioningly into his eyes the next moment, he +immediately answered me: + +'You must pardon me; I do not speak of this to anyone, for to whom +should I speak here?' + +'Then are there very few Jews here?' + +'Those here? Do you call them Jews, Sir? They're such low fellows, not +one of them keeps the Law strictly.' + +Fearing another outburst, I would not, however, allow him to finish, +and decided to change the conversation by asking him straight out what +he wanted to talk to me about now. + +'I should like to know the news from there, Sir. I have been here so +many years, and I have never yet heard what is going on there.' + +'You are asking a good deal, for I can't exactly tell you everything. +I don't know what interests you,--politics perhaps?' + +The Jew was silent. + +I concluded that my present guest, like many of the others, was +interested in politics; but as I myself did not understand the very +elements of the subject, I began to give the stereotyped account I had +already composed with a view to frequent repetition of the situation +of European politics, our own,[13] and so forth. But the Jew fidgeted +impatiently. + +'Then this does not interest you?' I asked. + +'I have never thought about it,' he answered candidly. + +'Ah, now I know why you have come! I am sure you wish to know how the +Jews are doing, and how trade is going?' + +'They are better off than I am.' + +'Exactly. I am sure, under the circumstances, you will wish to know if +living is dear with us, what the market prices are, how much for +butter, meat, etc.' + +'What does it concern me if it is ever so cheap there, if I can get +nothing here?' + +'Quite right again; but what the devil did you actually come here +for?' + +'Since I don't know myself, I ask you, Sir, how I am to tell you? You +see, Sir, I often get thinking ... I think so much ... that Ryfka +(that's my wife) asks, "Srul, what's the matter with you?" And what +can I tell her, for I don't know myself what it is. Perhaps some +people would laugh at me?' he added, as if fearing I were amongst +them. + +But I did not laugh; I was interested. Something, the cause of which +he himself could not explain or express in words, was evidently +weighing on him, and his unusually poor command of language added to +this difficulty. In order to help him I re-assured him by telling him +that I was in no hurry, as my work was not urgent and there would +therefore be no harm in our having an hour's talk, and so on.--The Jew +thanked me with a glance, and after a moment's thought opened the +conversation thus: + +'When did you leave Warsaw, Sir?' + +'According to the Russian calendar, at the end of April.' + +'Was it cold there then or warm?' + +'Quite warm. I travelled in a summer suit at first.' + +'Well, just fancy, Sir! Here it was freezing!' + +'Then you have forgotten, is that it? Anyway, with us the fields are +sown in April, and all the trees are green.' + +'Green?' Joy shone in Srul's eyes. 'Why, yes, yes--green:--and here it +was freezing!' + +Now at last I knew why he had come to me. Wishing to make certain, +however, I was silent: the Jew was evidently getting animated. + +'Well, Sir, you might tell me if there is any--with us now ... but you +see, I don't know what it's called; I have already forgotten Polish,' +he apologized shyly, as if he had ever known it--'it's white like a +pea blossom, yet it's not a pea, and in summer it grows in gardens +round houses, on those tall stalks?' + +'Kidney beans?' + +'That's just it! Kidney beans! Kidney beans!' he repeated to himself +several times, as if wishing to impress those words on his memory for +ever. + +'Of course there are plenty of those. But are there none here?' + +'Here! I have never seen a single pod all these past three years. Here +the peas are what at home we should not expect the ... the....' + +'The pigs to eat,' I suggested. + +'Well, yes! Here they sell them by the pound, and it's not always +possible to get them.' + +'Are you so fond of kidney beans?' + +'It's not that I am so fond of them, but they are so beautiful +that ... I don't know why ... I often get thinking and thinking how +they may be growing round my house. Here there's nothing!' + +'And now, Sir,' he recommenced, 'will you tell me, if those small grey +birds are still there in the winter,--like this--' and he measured +with his hand. 'I have forgotten their names too. Formerly there were +a great many, when I used to pray by the window. They used to swarm +round! Well, whoever even looked at them there? Do you know, Sir, I +could never have believed that I should ever think about them! But +here, where it's so cold that even the crows won't stop, you can't +expect to see little things like that. But they are sure to be there +with us? They are there, aren't they, Sir?...' + +But I did not answer him now. I no longer doubted that this old +fanatical Jew was pining for his country just as much as I was, and +that we were both sick with the same sickness. This unexpected +discovery moved me deeply, and I seized him by the hand, and asked in +my turn: + +'Then that was what you wished to talk to me about? Then you are not +thinking of the people, of your heavy lot, of the poverty which is +pinching you; but you are longing for the sun, for the air of your +native country!... You are thinking of the fields and meadows and +woods; of the little songsters, for whom you could not spare a +moment's attention there when you were busy, and now that these +beautiful pictures are fading from your recollection, you fear the +solitude surrounding you, the vast emptiness which meets you and +effaces the memories you value? You wish me to recall them to you, to +revive them; you wish me to tell you what our country is like?...' + +'Oh yes, Sir, yes, Sir! That was why I came here,' and he clasped my +hands, and laughed joyfully, like a child. + +'Listen, brother....' + +And my friend, Srul, listened, all transformed by listening, his lips +parted, his look rivetted to mine; he kindled, he inspired me by that +look; he wrested the words from me, drank them in thirstily, and laid +them in the very depth of his burning heart.... I do not doubt that he +laid them there, for when I had finished my tale he began to moan +bitterly, 'O weh mir! weh mir!' He struck his red beard, and in his +misery tears like a child's rolled fast down his face.... And the old +fanatic sat there a long time sobbing, and I cried with him.... + +Much water has flowed down the cold Lena since that day, and not a few +human tears have rolled down suffering cheeks. All this happened long +ago. Yet in the silence of the night, at times of sleeplessness, the +statuesque face of Bałdyga, bearing the stigma of great sorrow, often +rises before me, and invariably beside it Srul's yellow, drawn face, +wet with tears. And when I gaze longer at that night-vision, many a +time I seem to see the Jew's trembling, pale lips move, and I hear his +low voice whisper: + +'Oh Jehovah, why art thou so unmerciful to one of Thy most faithful +sons?...' + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Bałdyga means 'lump' or 'clumsy lout.' + +[11] The river near his home. + +[12] 'Docha.' + +[13] _i.e._ Polish. + + + + +IN AUTUMN + +WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +The rain and bad weather, which had continued without interruption +for several days, had kept the inhabitants of the hut, 'Talaki,'[14] +prisoners indoors, and condemned them to idleness. They constantly +went out of the room to gaze long and sadly at the weeping sky, for +the hay was rotting in the fields;--but alas! a grey film of rain hung +over all the surrounding country, and in vain their eyes sought +longingly for the smallest chink of blue in the heavy, dark clouds. + +To add to the misfortune, the rain, not content with the holes left in +the roof from the year before, made a number of fresh ones. It thus +poured into the room from all sides on to people's heads and +shoulders, and formed quite a deep and ever-growing pool underfoot. +Various forms of filth, remains of food, refuse of fish and game, the +dung in the corner where the calves were kept, which had been trodden +down and had dried in the course of the year, became moist, and filled +the interior of the 'yurta'[15] with an unbearable smell. It was +therefore stuffy, cold, and damp there. The fire, burning rather +slowly, was choked by balls of grey smoke, which went across the room. + +The hut was tiny; it occupied no more than twenty-four square yards of +the solitude surrounding it. The slanting walls, made of barked larch +trees placed perpendicularly, and narrowing towards the top, +diminished its size still more. The flat roof was built of rafters of +the same wood, and came down so close to the inhabitants' heads that +one of them, Michawio, a big lad, while unwinding a bundle of nets at +the little window, hit his curly shock head against it. + +A plank partition, hewn out with a hatchet, ran through the centre of +the room, and divided it into equal parts, the right being for the +men, the left for the women. By a post at the end of the room, with +his face turned towards the fire, his hands on his right knee, and +smoking a pipe, sat my host, Kyrsa,[16] a Yakut. Still hale, though no +longer young, he was the wealthy and independent master of field +labourers, and the owner of the house, of many nets, animals, and +implements, as well as of three women:--a wife, and two daughters. The +youngest was sold already, but she was living with her father, as the +sum agreed upon for her had not yet been paid in full by the buyer. + +There was deep silence in the room,--a rather unusual thing in a place +where several Yakut people are together. The fire roared and hissed in +the chimney, and behind the partition the girls made a squeaking sound +as they rubbed the skins together. I had a foreboding that this +silence would end badly; indeed, the storm soon broke out. The lad +nicknamed 'Shmata' brought it on by his incompetence. After wandering +from corner to corner all day, he now upset a bucket and spilt the +water. This was the last straw. All eyes flashed, and faces grew pale. + +The frightened Shmata tried to lay the blame on Michawio, who had been +stooping down near him to look for a strap. Michawio in revenge +reminded Shmata of what had happened about the rake the year before. +The quarrel had begun in earnest. Their tongues, moving with the speed +of a windmill, and throwing out invectives and sneers, formed an +accompaniment to the host's threatening shouts, which rang out like +the trump of the Archangel. Nor did our hostess fail to leave her +seclusion to take part in the skirmish with the excitement peculiar to +women all the world over. The yurta suddenly became like a disturbed +beehive. The host affirmed, the hostess denied, the labourers hurled +abuses at one another, the girls uttered war cries, the baby woke up +and screamed in its cradle, and the calves lowed in answer to the loud +mooing of the cows, whom evening had driven near the house door. This +last occurence had a perceptible influence in diminishing the noise, +for it caused the female element to withdraw from the fight; in fact, +the disturbance might have been conjured away completely, if the happy +thought of adding something at the very moment when everyone else was +quieting down, had not entered our host's head. + +This remark burst out unexpectedly, like a belated bomb after a +battle, and produced such a din that the cows and calves were silent, +the wind abated in fright, the clouds fled, and I became aware of a +golden sunbeam penetrating the holes in the bladder at the window, and +falling suddenly into the interior of our dark, dirty, noisy hovel. +Merrily and brightly it rested in a shining circle on the closely +cropped grey head of my host, before whose nose his wife's large +closed fist was hovering at that moment. 'That's for you! Take that! +Go on!' Kuimis cried, still beautiful in her anger. The fist came +closer and closer to the unfortunate man's mouth. + +What happened further? Did Kyrsa avenge himself like a man for that +greatest of all insults possible to a Yakut from a woman? Or did he +show himself to be the 'wife of his wife,' an old woman and a +simpleton, as the neighbours called him, and refrain from knocking out +the teeth or breaking the ribs of the active woman by whose work he +lived and had grown rich? I do not know, because, foreseeing the +overthrow of my friend, in whom love for his wife was always +struggling against a sense of duty, and not wishing to be a witness of +his defeat, I shouldered my gun and went out of the cottage. + +The wind had dropped, the covering of clouds was torn open, and bits +of pale blue sky were unveiled here and there. The sun peeped out +suddenly through one of these little gaps, and the landscape, which +had been dreary and joyless a moment before, brightened into a golden +splendour. A light shadow, half cheerful, half sombre, fell across its +faded autumn foliage, and in this half smile it resembled a forsaken +woman, to whom the caprice of a lover, who has already grown cold, +offers a moment of tenderness and happiness again. Drops of rain +glistened like brilliants on the dark branches of the trees and +bushes; the sky was coloured in shades of carmine, and the pearly +tears of the passing storm trembled on the willows, still swaying from +it. + +Before me, between two high promontories overgrown by woods which ran +in opposite directions, sparkled the surface of the lake. In +proportion as it stretched into the distance, its bank became more +winding, lower, and mistier, until it disappeared at the outlet of a +gorge. Owing to the distance, the tall, thin larches, the thick +willows, bushes, and grass growing there looked quite small, but the +rays of the sunset, falling on them from behind, produced a wonderful +lace-work of dark branches and leaves against a pale-rose sky. Grey +clouds hung above them, heavily embroidered with gold and purple. The +waves sported and chased one another below on the foam-splashed banks +of the lake, which was painted with colours from the sky. + +I walked towards the gorge, by the footpath leading through a meadow +which was now turning yellow. + +That 'demons' forest'[17] looked dark and horrible close at hand. The +flat hills, uniformly covered with soft moss of a dirty green, and +with cranberry leaves, undulated gently westwards towards the sinking +sun. The wood covering these hills was sparse and stunted, and +disfigured them rather than otherwise, for single trees stood out here +and there like the remaining hair on a bald man's head. Silence, and +the gloom of oncoming night already filled the interior of the forest. +Only here and there a forgotten ray of sunshine was burning itself out +above in the bare, wind-twisted summits of the larches. + +I stood for a moment, looking at that wild spot, which no native would +have dared to approach. A deep stillness lay upon it; the waves beat +more and more gently and noiselessly; the sunset was fading away, and +only where the network of bushes was less close a transient gleam +lighted the surface of some lakes, which had hitherto been unknown to +me. I walked on towards them, impelled by curiosity and a feeling of +longing. + +The way proved more difficult than I had expected. At every moment I +was obliged to jump or climb over bushes and avoid the deep, narrow +wells, boarded round with tree-trunks felled a hundred years before +and perfidiously concealed by the mosses and plants overgrowing them. +As these wells were full of water, with bottoms as slippery as ice, an +unwary pedestrian could easily break his neck or fracture a leg by +falling into them. In many places swampy streams trickled along +undefined channels, and though their banks were shallow, they were +boggy and difficult to cross on account of the trunks and branches +lying in them. The wood was full of trees with projecting, mud-covered +roots, which now, when everything was assuming an indefinite shape in +the twilight, looked twisted and monstrous. The white patches of +lichen shining in the darkness at the foot of the trees like the +immense shreds of a pall, emphasized and doubled their weird +appearance. It is, therefore, no wonder that in the purple light of +dawn, or in the moonlight, the natives should here see the tall +wood-demon's pale face,--the Slav hunter who came from the South and +now roams near the Yakut cottages, injuring cattle. + +Woe to the district where his shadow passes! Often from fifty to two +hundred beasts fall dead at one shot from those terrible Southern +arms. + +That evening, however, I met none of these inhabitants of the wood. I +also did not see the 'demons,'--the dry Tungus corpses. At one time +they were to be found here quite frequently, and the forest takes its +name from them. Shrivelled and horrible, they usually sit somewhere +under a tree or cleft in a rock, gazing eastwards with eye-sockets +pecked by the birds. On their knees they hold a wooden bow, or a +rifle, at their feet lies a hatchet with a broken handle, and at their +belt, inlaid with silver and beads, hangs a broken knife in its +sheath,--also broken, in order to prevent the dead man from doing any +mischief after death. A little to one side lie scattered the bones of +the reindeer, killed on his grave, the harness, and the small Tungus +sledge. No one ever dares to possess himself of any of these +considerably valuable articles, for punishment threatens the +foolhardy, inasmuch as he loses his way all day long until he returns +to the same place and restores the stolen object. Until they give +ample satisfaction, and atone to the angered owner by a gift, +obstinate people return some thirty, even a hundred times without +being able to escape from the magic circle. It is dangerous even to +touch any of the things belonging to the dead man, since that evokes a +storm, or, at best, a high wind. Although the kindly natives had +advised me to avoid meeting with the 'demon,' since it brings early, +and sometimes immediate death, I was very sorry not to have seized him +red-handed that evening. However, I came to be severely punished for +this sinful wish. + +The twilight deepened. The last purple resplendance had already faded +from the sunset, when tired and tattered, I at last succeeded in +pushing my way through the bushes of the 'demon's forest.' The sky was +dark, and twinkling with myriads of stars. My expedition had failed in +every respect. To complete the misfortune, the white mists hung like +muslin over the valley, and entirely prevented me from satisfying my +curiosity. I was therefore only able to take pleasure in the play of +the moonlight. + +It was really a beautiful view, although rather wild and gloomy. +Nearly the whole of the broad valley, to the very edge of the wood +where the dark, bare tree-tops projected beyond the border of mist, +was filled by white balls of vapour; the moon was moving slowly above +them. Looking for a moment into the depths of the valley, she drew +aside the floating veil, and touched the sleeping lake below with her +silvery kiss. I stood a long while to gaze and to rest. The deep +silence, the stillness which always reigns in these woods, the +knowledge that no one but myself was to be found in that solitude for +twenty versts round, filled me with a strange feeling of anxiety and +longing. I roused myself in order to dispel this. It was unfortunately +time to think of returning;--no easy matter, however, for in making my +way through the wood, I had lost a clear conception of the right +track. At last I hit on a small footpath, and decided to follow it in +the hope that it would lead me to some inhabited spot. I had scarcely +gone twenty steps before becoming persuaded that I was not walking on +a path, but on one of the numerous tracks made in the wood by water or +animals. It was therefore necessary to return to the place from which +I had started, for only thence could I more or less trace the way +leading in a bee-line through the wood. But the place had disappeared; +the night had shrouded it in new and different shadows, and the mist +had drawn its silver web across it. I walked for some time, searching +in vain, and haunted by the thought of forest madness. I had seen +people brought home from the 'taiga'[18] no longer in possession of +their faculties, pale and miserable, and with the traces of terror and +madness in their eyes. These unhappy men had often lost their way +quite near houses, without seeing them or being able to recognize the +points of the compass, although the sun was shining, and they had +wandered about, crying and howling like wild animals. After +recovering, they said that they had seen the demon. One of the causes +of this illness is the fatigue brought on by the strain of the vain +search. So I sat down on a felled trunk, resolving to wait for +daybreak. + +The air was cool. My clothes were wet with the mist and rain, besides +being too thin for spending the night in the wood, so that I soon +began to suffer from the cold. I tried to light a fire, but the +matches were damp, and the only one which burnt could not set fire to +the moist brushwood and logs. Having, therefore, gathered some grass, +I hid my feet in it, as they were suffering the most from the cold; I +examined my gun, and loaded it, and then, crouching against a tree, I +tried to go to sleep. + +In a situation of this kind every sense is rapidly dulled,--touch, +smell, even sight; hearing alone becomes exceedingly acute. After only +a few minutes I could hear my heart beating, the blood pouring +through my veins, the whisper of the trees, the rustle of the mist, so +that the dead silence of the wood was broken in upon by sounds, which, +though scarcely audible, continued to increase. Suddenly a very real +sound rang out amid these fancied ones, and forced me to open my eyes. +It came from the further end of the lake, and was like the measured +strokes of an oar. I fixed my eyes on the spot whence it seemed to +come. The veil of mist was trembling slightly, and beyond it, in the +distance, something indistinct appeared low on the water. After a +moment a small Yakut pirogue emerged from the shadows, and sped along +the lake. I could perfectly well see the rower squatting in the bottom +of the boat, and striking first with one, then with the other blade of +his long oar, from the ends of which the water poured in a shining +stream, like molten silver. + +He soon approached the bank, and drew the boat to land. I crept +towards him, hiding in order that he should not see me too soon, and +run away, as I knew he would. He was engaged in taking something out +of the boat. + +'What news?' I greeted him, according to the local custom, coming +slowly out of the bushes. + +He started and exclaimed, but did not run away, for he recognized me, +and I him. He was a poor Yakut, who lived about five versts from me. + +'I know nothing! I have heard nothing! Oh, how you did frighten +me,--but it's all right!' he said hastily, giving me his hand. + +'What did you think it was?' + +'Why should one meet a man in the wood at night time?' he answered +evasively, eyeing me suspiciously from head to foot. 'You often think +it's a man you know, and you talk to him as if you knew him, and then +it turns out in the end not to be a man at all.' + +'What are you doing here so late?' + +'I am going home; it's a holiday to-morrow. I have a long way to go +from here to Babylon[19] for fishing,--thirty versts. You know we're +poor folk, we live by fishing,--we haven't any horses; so one is +always in a boat, always in a boat. As I was dragging it through the +wood I cut my foot, so I've got behindhand.' + +'You have cut your foot?' + +'It isn't much, for I've stopped the bleeding.' + +'Then perhaps it was you whistling and calling?' I asked, remembering +a strange sound I had heard a moment before. + +'I!--No!' He was silent, and I noticed him lean over the boat, and +cross himself. + +'And what are you doing here?' he asked in his turn. + +I hesitated. + +'Looking for ducks,' I lied, not wishing to frighten him more. + +'Ducks!' he repeated, laughing heartily, and his white teeth shone in +the darkness like pearls. + +'There have never been any ducks here!' + +'Never been any? Why?' I asked, as I helped him to draw the boat along +the edge of the wood towards the lake, which could be seen in the +distance. The fisherman was limping. + +'The lakes are different,' he explained, 'and there are as many lakes +in our country as stars in the sky, and the stars are only the +reflection of them. The lakes are as different as the stars:--there +are large and small ones, and some so deep that you can't reach the +bottom; or else they are shallow, or marshy. In one there are fine +fish, in another small, in some the water's bad, and makes a man ill, +because the cattle go into it, in others again it's as pure as air.' + +We halted on the bank, let down the boat into the water, and entered +it, the fisherman in front, I behind. Leaning lightly against one +another, back to back, we sailed along like a god with two faces of +which one was bearded and European, the other flat, clean-shaven, and +Mongolian. + +The Mongolian face continued its conversation, only interrupting it +now and then to give me a warning not to move when the boat rocked too +much. + +'Everything comes from the water. Even the cow lived in the water +until she was taken and tamed by man. There are different kinds of +wild beasts and even people living in the water, as there are on land. +Now just look!' and he pointed with his oar to the long water-weeds +swaying under the passage of the pirogue. 'Isn't that a wood?' It was +indeed a wood, dark and mysterious, visited only by fishes and drowned +men. Once he had fallen in, no swimmer ever extricated himself from +its thickets. + +'Old people say,' the Yakut continued, 'that formerly everything was +different,--everything was better, because there was more water, and +that even the sables used to come up to the farm gates, and there was +so much fish that it was enough to shoot an arrow into the lake to +draw it back with a good catch. But now there's nothing; the sables +have run away, and there isn't much fish. It's only the traders, our +fathers, who save us, or we should die. They give the money to pay the +taxes, they give tea, tobacco, and cotton. Eh yes! these traders! I'd +just like to be a trader!' + +The little boat struck the bank. We therefore drew it along to the +next lake, and continued the rest of our journey in this manner, this +being the sole means of travelling in summer in that country of lakes, +marshes, and swampy woods. + +After travelling thus for an hour along a narrow stream, overgrown +with bulrushes, we ultimately arrived at the last lake. The sparks +from a yurta chimney were glittering on its bank in the distance, like +tiny red stars. + +'I expect you are going to Chachak?' my companion asked, when we +stopped on the bank. 'I am spending the night there.' + +I took up some of the fisherman's things, and walked towards the +yurta. I had known Chachak for some time past already. He was a queer +man, who laughed at his own extravagances, and frequently even shocked +the feeling of the neighbourhood. 'Chachak has made himself a cap of a +whole wolf skin!' I had been told laughingly. 'Chachak has paid the +merchants only two roubles for a brick of tea; "they would make too +much profit by three roubles," he said!' + +'What about the merchants? Did they give it to him?' + +'Eh, why, his old woman gave it to them on the sly! Why! You don't +know Chachak! He won't give three roubles;--he won't drink, and he +won't give that!' + +Chachak had been famous in his youth as the best hunter in the +district, and wonders were related of his prowess and skill. He +preferred bear hunting to any other, and set out to it summer and +winter with his spear and gun, killing in the open field or lair, +just as it happened. He was as ready for such encounters as he was for +cards. Only let him hear of a bear, and from that moment he had no +peace until he had tracked and killed it. Many a time he had been +invited to accompany hunters who had found a den with several bears. +But burning with the fever for the chase, he had been unable to wait +until morning, and had slipped away in the grey dawn with his faithful +dog to hasten to the spot, where he was usually to be found, pale and +splashed with the blood of the 'forest lords.' There was nothing left +for his companions to do but for each to eat a portion of the hard +heart and liver of the vanquished, and to drink a cup of blood, +shouting the triumphant 'uch!' three times. All eyes would be upon +Chachak, who would try to appear indifferent, although excited and +feeling the just pride of a hero. Once, moreover, he had killed a bear +with a tail, which, as everyone knows, is not a bear, but a devil. Had +he not killed the 'icy demon,' who tracked people, carried off cattle, +and whom neither bullet nor spear could touch? Chachak himself never +spoke or boasted of his victories; he was always modest and reserved, +as befits a man who possibly knows more than others. Since the +accident which befell him during his last hunt, however, he had been +completely changed. He had given up hunting and playing cards, become +poor, and grown morose and strange:--he had lost his influence. + +His yurta stood near the bank, so I quickly found myself at its gate. +A bright fire was burning within, and voices could be heard talking. +So they were not asleep yet! I went up to the door, and peeped through +the chink. Chachak was sitting before the fire, with his face towards +me, holding a net which he was not winding, for his hand was stretched +slightly in front of him while he related something to the listeners +gathered round him. At his feet a small naked child played with the +brass chain of a knife hanging in a wooden sheath sewn to his leather +trousers above the right shin. Chachak was very animated; every now +and then he bent forward towards his listeners, and stamped his +massive heel on the clay floor of the cottage. + +'They have a horror of horseflesh, and eat pigs!' he was saying, 'yet +a horse is a very clean and sensible animal.' + +'Why, yes!' his listeners assented. + +'But pigs!--I have seen them! They're disgusting! They've no hair! +They're bare, dirty, stupid, and bad tempered! They've enormous +mouths, thin curling tails like snakes, small eyes, and teeth like a +dog's. They're spiteful too!--When I was at Yakutsk I had an adventure +with the pigs, and they all but ate me. There're lots of them there. +I had gone out by myself in the early morning to finish my pipe in the +passage; everyone was still asleep, and it had only just begun to +dawn. The pigs were going round the courtyard, squealing. I was young, +and liked a joke, so when they ran round me I shook my fist at them. +They rushed at me like mad!' He broke off with a laugh. 'I ran along +the passage, they after me; I jumped on to a bench, and they came +grunting round me, while I kept shaking my fist at them. Ha-ha!' + +He spat into his hand, and stretched it out before him. + +Suddenly the door creaked. The woman exclaimed, the lads jumped up +from the floor, the children began to cry. + +'Who's coming? A Russian, perhaps, and pigs with him!' Chachak stopped +talking, and drew back his outstretched fist. + +The entrance, as is usual in a Yakut yurta, was behind the fireplace, +the one source of light in the evening; thus a full minute of fear and +anxious expectation passed before I entered from the darkness. Yes, it +was a 'Russian,' but a well-known one, a friend, and, into the +bargain, without pigs! + +Their faces brightened, and they stretched out their hands, welcoming +me warmly and frankly, as guests are always welcomed in the North. +Chachak laughed, made room for me on the bench before the fire, and +ordered the kettle to be put on. + +'Tell us the news, and what is happening,' they begged me. + +I began to relate the local news. They all listened attentively, +although, as it turned out, they had already long known it. The +companion of my night journey entered, and the conversation became +general. The men grouped themselves round the table, on which +Chachak's wife had set supper for us; freshly made soup, sour milk, +and a large pile of fish, dried and smoked. + +Chachak stood at the fire, warming his back, and did not join in the +conversation. His daughter, a young and rather pretty girl, placed a +few white china tea-cups and saucers on the table, and the usual Yakut +entertainment began: tea with milk and cold refreshments, followed +later by a hot supper with fish. Although the offer of meat was very +tempting, and we were rather hungry, we were not equal to tasting all +the dishes set before us. Chachak noticed this at once, and attacked +me about it with his wonted brusqueness. + +'You aren't eating? You've had enough? What's this new fashion of +going to pay visits without being hungry? You Slavs eat like birds +when you go to people's houses, but you go home and call out: "Wife, +the samovar; put the saucepan on the fire,--I'm hungry." You're +disgraceful!' + +They all began to laugh, the old man no less than the rest. + +A general conversation was started, at first about different countries +and customs, but soon reverting to burning local questions. + +'What's wrong with Andshay? He's in trouble. There's no trace of his +boy.' + +'None?' + +'A pity! He was a sturdy lad!' + +'Have they found nothing?' + +'No. All the neighbours have been out to search; they've searched the +lakes, they've searched the wood, they've been searching for a whole +week. But there's nothing,--nothing.' + +'Ah!--sure to be a bear. They say one appeared in the valley; +Kecherges saw him,' muttered the fisherman, who had arrived with me. + +At the word, 'bear,' Chachak, who was standing by the fire, silently +playing with his fingers, suddenly looked up. Everyone stopped +talking, and involuntarily turned towards him. His old wife nervously +tried to change the subject. + +'A bear! Where was he seen?' Chachak asked quickly in a low tone, +sitting down on the bench. + +'Oh! Who can tell? Perhaps it wasn't one either,' the fisherman +answered hesitatingly. + +'A bear,--depend upon it!' Chachak said slowly. 'They have found +neither flesh nor clothes:--"He" usually buries the remains of his +prey in the ground,--"He" even scrapes the blood off. That's just what +"He" does. You say Kecherges saw "Him?"' he again asked the fisherman. + +'Lies!' the latter answered evasively. + +'Oh! "He"'s clever, "He"'s sly and revengeful! Andshay must have done +something to "Him" in order to be able to boast of it, or to have +something to talk about. "He" remembers insults a long time, that's +why "He" has carried the boy off. Although "He" lives far away, "He" +hears in the mountains and forest quite well what we are saying here, +and understands like a man,--better than a man! Who knows what "He" +is? Skin "Him," and you will see how like a woman "He" is. But "He"'s +revengeful,--and terribly fierce,' Chachak added, looking down. '"He" +doesn't forgive!' + +'You Russian,'--he turned to me suddenly,--'be ready for "Him" on the +road. Take care! Take care! Though a bear is big, "He" can go as +quietly as a shadow when "He" wants to fall upon a man unawares. I +advise you to stay the night with us; there's no joking with "Him"! +Once I was not afraid either, but now;--there--look!' He undid his +shirt sleeve. It was a terrible sight. The left shoulder, which, as I +had previously noticed, the old man could make little use of, was +shrunk and thin to the elbow, like a mere bone covered with skin, and +those veins and muscles which were unscathed, wound round the bone +close to the surface. There was a mass of white scars, crossing in +different directions. + +'I have killed many,--many!' he continued, 'and now I know that they +will eat me for it,--eat me because I'm afraid. It happened like this. +It was rather later in the season than this; it was freezing. I got +ready my spring-gun for elk-shooting, and God gave me one of these big +beasts. To have carted its flesh, skin, and inside along a bad road +would have needed seven or eight horses. So I decided to build a +larder on the spot, and to lay the elk in it for a time, till the road +became frozen. I and my boy set out early to work. The lad was +lingering a little way behind me, and I was walking quite quietly +along the road, and had just passed the willow which grows on the hill +not far from here, when "He" came upon me. He ran towards me like a +dog, and before I could look round "He" was already standing on his +hind-legs. I reached out for my knife, but tried in vain to drag it +from the sheath. There was a night frost, and on coming out of the +house I had not wiped my knife, as I should, after eating, so it had +frozen to the sheath. It was God's hand!--So the "Black One" knocked +me down. Finding myself overpowered, I seized him by the throat with +my right hand, and laid the left on his jaws, and called to the boy to +run for help. The silly boy jumped on him, and--whack!--went his +pocket knife into the bear;--he had a little knife that size,' and +Chachak measured with his finger. '"You want to eat my father!" he +shouted. The Black One was frightened, and jumped into the bushes. But +the boy had hit me in the chest with his knife, and I should have been +killed, had it been able to pierce the stag's hide. They could +scarcely bring me round again.' + +'And you see from that time, when "He," sitting on me, looked into my +eyes, my mind has been troubled. I am afraid,' he added quietly, 'very +much afraid.' + +Not long after I took leave of my kind hosts, and went home. The moon +was shining brightly, the mist had disappeared, and the well-known +foot-path shone white before me. I had gone along it a thousand times +without fear or thought of evil, but this time when I neared the place +where Chachak had been attacked I involuntarily fingered my +knife-handle, and for a moment I seemed to see the monster lying in +the shadow of the bushes, its shaggy muzzle on its outstretched paws. + +A few years later I heard that Chachak had disappeared without trace +in the wood: the 'forest lords' had doubtless accomplished their +revenge. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] 'Talaki,' Yakut for 'water-willow.' + +[15] 'Yurta' = Yakut hut. + +[16] 'Kyrsa' = white fox. + +[17] Native name for this forest. + +[18] 'Taiga' = primeval forest in Siberia. + +[19] A large lake to the N.E. of the Kołymsk district. + + + + +IN SACRIFICE TO THE GODS + +WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +Close to where the river Sheroka issues from a rocky gorge into a +broad valley, there is a wooden column, ornamented with carving. At +this column, which stands in the middle of a small meadow near the +water, the nomad Tungus assemble annually from the neighbouring +mountains. Hundreds of reindeer in the midst of a crowd of human +beings make a charming picture as the caravans travel thither +together. When the merry crowd enters the valley the splash of the +river is lost in a ringing echo of voices. + +Their camp-fires, scattered in a semi-circle in the wood at the foot +of the mountains, twinkle against the background of eternal shadows +like a shining girdle, in which the delicate spring green and the grey +diaphanous tissue of stems and branches are interlaced. + +This is the most agreeable season in the mountain valleys; gnats and +other insects have not yet begun to be worrying, the air is +delightfully cool, everything is unfolding and blossoming, and only +the winter snow on the summits of the mountains lies untouched by the +warmth. The pale, transparent sky above the snow neither darkens at +night nor glitters with stars, but shines with the Northern light +which joins the sunset of the fading day to the sunrise of the next. + +The people remain near the column in the clearing for a whole week. +The family elders, grave old men, meet here and discuss their common +needs, collect the tribute of hides, and settle all important matters. + +But the young men use the time for love and merry-making, dancing and +races. The valley rings with laughter and shouting, with the strokes +of the hatchet and the echoes of songs; the ground trembles under the +cloven hoofs of the furiously driven reindeer; the leather lassoes +swish through the air as they are thrown on to the antlers of the +animals destined for slaughter. And where work is most active, where +life is at its fullest the jingle of the women's glass and silver +ornaments is sure to be heard. + +So it has been time out of mind. But one year it happened differently. + +Numbers of people assembled in the valley, as usual, but the noise of +their talking did not drown the roar of the river. The youths did not +dance at the meeting place, no reindeer were to be seen racing. There +was no laughter, no singing. + +Nor did the counsels take place in common. The men assembled in small +groups in separate tents, with a dull look on their sad faces. They +talked without animation; jokes and laughter, so beloved by the +Tungus, were checked by a general sense of depression, and only rarely +indulged in. + +However, they did not disperse, but waited impatiently for the coming +of old Seltichan, without whom they would not have dared to have +settled any important matters. But the old man did not arrive. + +'The old man doesn't come, he doesn't come,--and he won't come,' +muttered one of the group, sitting among his companions, who were +circling round the fire. He was a stout man of possibly fifty years of +age, unlike a Tungus, and dressed like a Yakut, with a silver Yakut +belt. He had the puffed-up air of a rich man knowing his own +importance. 'Who cares to visit the dying?' he added, sulkily. + +'_You_ didn't try to escape your fate,' gloomily answered a poorly +dressed old man, as tawny as copper, and as wrinkled as moss, who was +sitting on the opposite side of the fire. + +'That is true!' a third repeated. 'You don't try to escape, you don't +hide. Didn't I run away, didn't I hide? And what came of it?' and, +with emotion, he began for the hundredth time to relate the story of +his misfortune. Each time it was received with equal attention. + +'When the news of the disaster came I was on the summit of Bur-Janga, +and was just getting ready to go down; but I hesitated, and delayed my +start. For a long while the God had mercy on me;--I know that!--till +one night I awoke terrified, with a beating heart. I listened:--I +heard what seemed like a shot, and loud calling. I drew my head from +under the cover, and again I seemed to hear a noise in the wood, like +distant shooting. The dogs whined and howled, as if they had noticed a +bear. I went out of the tent, and looked. The moon was shining, and an +immense shadow passed into the wood from the bottom of the valley, +avoiding the hills. The dogs fell at my feet, and I covered my eyes +with my hand, unable to look. My heart beat in my breast like a +frightened bird, my feet were rigid with terror.' + +'O-oh!' echoed the sighs of the listeners. + +'And what happened next?--A hundred reindeer fell dead at once. Not +waiting for dawn, we pushed on that very night. We fled, not halting +anywhere, but our herds became smaller every day. So I divided them, +and sent them in three directions; yet in a few days' time my +son,--and later my daughter,--returned empty-handed. Then I made up +my mind to flee to the end of the world, where no one ever goes. But +is there a place anywhere, to which no one has ever yet been? I took +nothing belonging to the dying animals, not even the halters; I left +everything. And when the leader fell I did not even take the figured +band from his head, which had come down to me from my ancestors.' + +'A-ah!' responded the listeners. + +'The women burst into tears at that,' he continued, encouraged by the +sympathy of his audience, 'but the Russian traders had advised it. +"Take none of His offering, Brother; He seeks out His own, and will +find it everywhere!" So I obeyed; I left it and fled. At last I had +gone so far that I grew frightened myself:--may be no one had ever +been there before me. There were no trees anywhere, not even +bushes,--only the same rocks and snow everywhere,--and the gale. It +was impossible to pitch a tent for want of poles, and I was afraid to +send to the wood for them, so we dug out a hole in the snow under a +rock, and settled ourselves in it. We were comfortable there, and +began to be cheerful once more, for the plague ceased. One day +passed,--a second,--and none of the reindeer had sickened. We waited +in the silence of fear; we not only avoided talking, but even thinking +about "Him," for possibly "He" too would forget us! We did not allow +the reindeer out of our sight, and we went where they led us, spending +the night among the herd, like the Chukchee. In this way some time +passed. My wife was already beginning to be cheerful, and I myself +thought that all would be well, and we should grow richer after a +while. But again I suddenly awoke in the night, torn by anxiety. The +moon was shining as on that other night, and everything was bright and +still all round. The tired reindeer were sleeping in a heap in the +snow. But a shadow hung in the air, falling independently, and not +from a rock.' + +Again the listeners responded with sighs. + +'I slipped out of bed cautiously, took my gun, and without dressing, +began to steal, naked, towards "Him." "He" did not notice me, for "He" +was standing on a rock, taking stock of what I possessed. But when I +made a slight sound as I was hurriedly taking aim, "He" turned and +fixed "His" great burning eyes on me. I shot between them. What +happened afterwards I do not know. Did "He" hit me, or cover me with +"His" breath? I have no idea. + +'Something like a storm passed over me; but when I regained +consciousness I had not a single reindeer left;--Tumara was a poor +man.' + +The speaker was silent, waved his hand, and starting to his feet, +stood with bowed head, and an expression of pain on his face. The +young men in the audience also stood up; but the old men did not stir +from their seats, and fixing their eyes on the speaker, waited for the +continuation of the story. + +'Well,--and then--?' + +Tumara raised his head and began to speak, but at that moment his look +fell beyond the edge of the circle and became absorbed in the +distance, his face showed astonishment, his lips trembled, and tears +rolled from his eyes. Everyone at once turned in the same direction. + +At some distance from the fire, and leaning against the back of a +reindeer as white as milk, stood a grey-headed Tungus in the old-time +national costume. Behind him, holding a riding-reindeer by the bridle, +was a young boy resembling him in face and dress. + +'Seltichan!' they all cried, 'you have come at last,--you!--our +father! We thought that you had forsaken us, who are dying! What news? +What have you heard and seen beyond the mountains? How fare the people +of Memel? Are they living still? Or are they, perhaps, also drawing +their last breath, as we are? And you, our leader, what do you mean to +do? Have you come alone, or with all your people? Are you going back +to the mountains? Or are you going to the coast?' The questions came +pouring out. + +Giving the bridle to his son, Seltichan joined the circle round the +fire, and greeted everyone singly by a shake of the hand. He sat down +beside the Kniaź,[20] dressed like a Yakut, who hastily made room for +him. Then, pulling a small Chinese pipe out of his tobacco-pouch, he +filled it slowly. The group became silent, and sat down again. + +'It is now two months since the plague reached its height,' the old +man answered in a calm, grave voice. 'The people of Memel have +dispersed terrified and fled to the coast, but by different ways, in +order to avoid the dangerous place. You need not expect them here. But +my camp will arrive this evening.' + +'Ah! Seltichan, who would ever doubt that you would come? You are +wise, you are daring, you, we know, fear nothing!' the Kniaź cried, +stretching out his hand towards his neighbour's lighted pipe. + +A shadow stole over the old man's face. + +'No one can escape his fate,' he replied coldly. + +'But you were born to happiness, Seltichan! Does not the God love you? +When whole herds were dying everywhere, did you not merely lose a +young calf?' + +Again a cloud came over the old man's face. + +'He loves me because I keep the ancient customs. My welfare does not +spring from human tears, but the mountains, the rocks, the woods, and +water bring it me,' the old man remarked drily. + +His hearers caught up his words. + +'Yes, indeed! Your hand was open; you supported your people in the day +of disaster, and shared in it.' + +'Yet who can help more easily than you?' said the Kniaź. 'What can I +give, for example, I, who have only goods for sale, and debts? Should +I distribute my debts in these hard times? It is true, I have nothing +against that! Yet I too am a Tungus;--what would anyone gain from my +accursed debts? They don't breed reindeer,' he ended, laughing. + +'Yes, indeed! We should die without you, Seltichan! Who supports us? +Whose herds are larger than yours? Who has a better heart? What family +is more distinguished and richer? Whose sons are more skilled shots, +and finer huntsmen? Whose daughters, when grown-up, most attract our +youths? Are you not the first among us,--you who neither suffer nor +fear, never lie, and never deceive as we do, and bow to your fate? +You, Seltichan! And to whom shall we go, if you will not have pity on +us?' came from all sides. + +'The God knows, I will share with you! That is why I am here!' the old +man answered, touched. + +'Tumara! Tumara!' the Kniaź cried, seeking the story-teller, 'finish +your tale. You will see, Seltichan, what happens later.' + +Silence prevailed again. Tumara, who was sitting in the front row of +the councillors, stroked his right ear with his right hand, and began +after a moment's pause. + +'I have told you already how, having lost the reindeer, we took our +goods and our children on our backs, and returned to the valley. Our +children became ill, and soon died from eating bad meat, which made us +weak too. But what can a hunter find in the wilderness at a time like +that?' + +'What, indeed?' + +'Very soon we were entirely without food. We had eaten all our stores, +leather bags, and old thongs, and the women's greasy scarves; there +was nothing left that could have a taste. Do not we, who encamp on the +mountains, know what hunger is? And was Tumara wanting in courage?' + +'He was famous for it!' the listeners asseverated. + +'But it happened thus, nevertheless;--we had been many, and only four +were left,--I, my wife, my son, and daughter. We went on, always +longing for the sight of human faces. We halted at all the known spots +and ancient resting places, and everywhere found the cold ashes of +fires:--the people had fled, scattered by the danger. And our +wanderings took us ever further from them. + +'But when, on coming down from the mountains, we saw bare tent poles, +all our courage forsook us. Notwithstanding, we went on further and +never stopped searching, for it is not an easy thing for a man to lie +down and die in the snow without giving any account of himself.--We +scraped the rubbish, and turned over the wet ashes of the cold fires +to find a morsel of food, stilling our hunger by knawing the bones +left by the dogs. At last it came to this that we could not look at +our own children, full of flesh and warm blood, without trembling. +"Tumara, let the girl die to save her parents," my wife said at last. +I was sorry for the child. She looked at us, not understanding. +"Tala," her mother said to her, "according to the old custom, when the +family is in danger, the daughter dies first."' + +'That is so!' the listeners affirmed. + +'"Go, Tala," she said, "wash in the snow, and look at the world for +the last time." The girl understood and tried to escape, but I held +her; so she cried and begged: "Wait till the evening, perhaps the God +will send something, I want to live; I am afraid!" So we waited and +watched. The girl was continually going out of the tent, and looking +towards the wood, shading her eyes with her hand. But each time her +mother was behind her, hiding a knife in her sleeve. It had already +begun to be dusk. The girl went out oftener and each time stood longer +on the threshold, while I lay in the shade of the tent, waiting to see +what would happen. Suddenly I heard a cry outside, which froze my +heart. My wife came in with the knife in her hand, staggering like a +drunken woman. "Have you killed her?" "No, the God has had pity," she +said, "there is a large elk running into the wood close by here!" I +jumped up and ran out of the door with my son. The girl was sitting by +the tent with outstretched arms, while not far off in the wood stood a +large elk.--' + +'Stood a large elk!' the listeners repeated. + +'Is it difficult for a hunter to kill an animal grazing? But my limbs +were dried up with hunger, my muscles weak with pain, and as I stole +towards my prey my hands shook so much I could scarcely keep the gun +in my hands. But when the animal had been hit, and tried to escape +into the bushes, we dashed after it like wolves. And thus the God +helped us;--we remained alive in order to die to-morrow.' + +Tumara ceased speaking, and bowed his head, again stroking his right +ear with his right hand. The listeners were silent. In that moment of +strained attention they seemed to hear the splash of each individual +wave in the river, the swish of each branch in the wood, as it rocked +in the gale. Suddenly another sound rang out distinct from these +continuous sounds, making all faces brighten, and all heads turn in +the direction whence it came. + +Young Miore, Seltichan's son, bent down to his father, and whispered: + +'Father, our people are coming!' + +'Yes, they are coming!' + +The train was actually approaching. + +The old men remained seated, but the young ones slipped out of the +circle one after another, and assembled in groups at the edge of the +bushes, whence the whole procession, appearing at the rocky outlet to +the valley, could be better seen. + +A young girl rode in front on a dark yellow reindeer. Her clothes were +richly ornamented with silver, a fact which at once suggested that she +was a great favourite in her family. She held a long spear in her +hand, and wore a band, embroidered with beads, on her loose hair. As +she rode along, she cleared her path by cutting away the twigs and +gnarled branches which might catch from behind on the packsaddle or +her clothing. When she raised her spear the sunbeams played on the +edge of its steel surface in a fiery gleam, and hovered over her head +for a moment like a will-o'wisp; then, passing along her shining +silver scarf, they fell on her right hand, and finally faded away in +the grass of the river-islands. + +'Choka! Chogai!' the charming girl exclaimed. She was accompanied by +two black dogs, which kept running ahead, and then turning back to +examine and sniff at everything, leaving nothing unnoticed. Following +her in a long line came the laden reindeer, some of which were being +ridden by women, and children who were tied on to the top like tight +bundles. + +At the very end of the caravan two armed huntsmen, aided by dogs, +drove a herd of unladen reindeer with their calves. The noise, +clatter, and bustle, the frightened calling of the cows seeking their +calves which had gone astray in the confusion, the jingle of bells, +the rattle of clappers hanging from the necks of the animals in front, +the cries of the men calling to the herd or keeping it in order,--all +this whirlpool of seething, exuberant life filled the valley with a +resounding echo, and fell on the ear of the listener as a great +familiar song of the happiness and well-being of a free nomad +existence. + +The spectators' eyes glistened. Unable to restrain an outburst of +feeling, they began to describe the impressions made upon them by the +scenes and faces passing by like fleeting shadows. + +'See, there is old Nioren!' + +'What an energetic old woman!' + +'Formerly all the Tungus women were like that.' + +'So they say--' + +'Look how cleverly she manages her reindeer.' + +'That's one good thing, but they say that she bore a son to Seltichan +not long ago, and that's better still.' + +'There's nothing wonderful in that; Majantylan's wife is older, and +she also bore--' + +'Hush! Look, there is Sala, the old man's daughter-in-law, about whom +they sing songs.' + +'But is she not worthy of them?' + +'Yes, indeed!' + +'You may chatter away, but if Miore hears you, he will give it you!' + +'What can he do to us? I am not afraid of him.' + +'Look,--look!--Laubzal!--Zleci!' + +'Actually!--What a wild reindeer!--They needn't have put a little boy +on it!' + +'He's a plucky lad! Look!--The old man will be delighted with him!' + +'And Chun-Me!' + +'Ah! Chun-Me! Chun-Me!' several sighed, their glances seeking the +girl with the steel-coloured fringe on her head. + +'They say that the Kniaź wants to win her for his son.' + +'Eh, the old man won't give him his favourite daughter,--not he!' + +When Seltichan's eldest son rode by,--a famous hunter, commonly known +by the name of 'Sparkling Ice,'--conversation was hushed out of +respect to him. + +And when the last reindeer of the caravan had disappeared into the +bushes, and the branches closed swinging behind it, Seltichan rose +from his seat and went away, taking leave of the company with a slight +nod. This was to indicate that he was expecting them all to come to +him shortly. + +That evening there was a crowd round the old man's tent, for nearly +all the temporary inhabitants of the valley were present. The host +gave orders for several reindeer to be killed, and welcomed his +guests. With the light-heartedness of true Tungus, they forgot their +sufferings in satisfying their hunger after their long fast, and began +to dance and join in cheerful songs. + +The old men sitting by the fire watched the younger ones with +enjoyment, and beat time with their heads, repeating the refrains. + +'What do you think, Oltungaba, will the God withdraw his punishing +hand, and allow joy to return to the mountains?' Seltichan asked, +turning to one of the guests, the old man who was as dark as copper, +and as wrinkled as moss. + +'Our life, Seltichan, is a shadow falling upon the water,' Oltungaba +answered meditatively. + + * * * * * + +The following morning the people in the valley awoke in an unusually +solemn mood. The day proclaimed itself rich in events. The weather was +exquisite, the sky clear and blue, without a trace of cloud. + +Having assembled at the conference, the older and prominent members of +families took their places in the front row, the younger ones behind +them, and the women and children still further off, beyond the edge of +the circle. Oltungaba, yielding to numerous entreaties, walked into +the centre, and bowing, said: + +'Why do you ask this of me, regardless of my old age?' + +'To whom else can we turn?' + +'There are distinguished shamans who are younger.' + +'Oh, Oltungaba, who would dare to prophesy in your presence?' was +asked from all sides. + +The old man was silent, and looked distrustingly at the excited +assembly. + +'You hesitate,--when, maybe, the last day has come for many?' + +'I am not thinking of myself, but calling to mind the ancient customs. +Who will interpret my language to you? A difficult time demands a +difficult language, and a painful time a painful language. And why +arouse danger unnecessarily? If no brave man is found, must I die?' + +'Let us all die! Surely, Oltungaba, you wish us well? We are +resolved.' + +'Then let it be so,' he assented, after a short moment's thought. + +Two of the most famous shamans offered him a shaman's cloak with the +long fringe, and a number of metal amulets and musical instruments. +Then they smoothed out the old man's hair, and placed a horned iron +crown on his head. An elderly Tungus, in attendance on the shaman, was +drying a drum at the fire meanwhile. When perfectly dry and taut, he +tested its elasticity by a blow with a small mallet. The well-known +mournful sound stirred the echoes of the valley, and interrupted the +talking. A white reindeer skin, with the head turned towards the +south, was then spread in the middle of the circle. The old man sat +down on it, and lighting his pipe, swallowed the smoke, and washed it +down with water. Then he poured out the rest of the water to the four +quarters of the globe, and turning his face to the sun, fell into a +state of complete torpor. He sat thus for a long while with bowed +head, his hair falling into his eyes, and his look fixed on the +blinding white of the mountain tops. At length a shiver ran through +his body, followed by a violent sob. The shivering and sobs increased +by degrees until they passed into incessant convulsions and groans, in +part feigned, in part real. The spectators could be heard sobbing +also. + +An old woman dropped down in a fit. + +At the same moment a fleeting, dark shadow fell on the ground close to +the shaman: an eagle was hovering between him and the sun. A piercing +cry rent the air, and the people bent like grass before the gale. + +Who cried? The shaman or the eagle? + +No one knew. + +'It is bad, it is bad,' the people murmured. + +'Hush!' + +The drum sounded several times with a deep and mournful echo, as the +crowd was frightened into silence.--The eagle flew away into the +distance. + +Once more there was stillness, interrupted only by the shaman's +muttering. After a while isolated sounds, coming, as it seemed, from +the distant wood and depths of the mountain clefts, began to mingle, +like the murmur of a swarm of bees, or the twitter of birds calling to +one another. Then Oltungaba shook his bells. By degrees these sounds +grew louder, and came nearer, until they passed away in the roar of +the waterfall and the splash of the rain which was now falling in +torrents. Yet deep and painful sighs, repeated more and more +frequently, could be heard above the rush of the water. Oltungaba +suddenly raised the drum above his head. Trembling violently, and +covered with the pelting hail, he began to utter frightened sounds, +like a sheep chased by a wolf. Then, all at once, throwing his hand +into the soft reindeer skin, he became silent, but continued to +tremble. + +'Oh, Goloron!' the shaman groaned, hiding his face with his hands. + +And there was stillness once more. Nothing was heard but the shaman's +sobs and indistinct mutterings, accompanied by the beating of the +drum. Above these sounds rose the intermingled cries of eagles, hawks, +crows, and lapwings, which appeared to be circling in flights round +the mountain tops. Their shrieking and cawing alternated with the +shaman's unintelligible incantations. It almost seemed as if they +foresaw some dreadful event, and were hastening to bring news of it in +advance to the lords of the äerial world. + +By degrees the incantations became more distinct, the words more +intelligible, till finally the first strophe of a chant burst from +the shaman's lips. + +'Do ye hear the roar of the sea?' + +'Ah yes!' answered the attendant. + +'I who am the first in creation--' + +'Verily,' the attendant replied. + +'I, the first among the chosen--' + +'In truth,' the attendant repeated. + +'Let them come blazing, like the shield of the sun!' + +'Let them come!' + +'He himself like the clouds,--the fiery raven precedes him--' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'I am thy son. I, wretched one, walking the earth, implore thee!' + +'I implore!' + +'Aid my weak strength in this stony path.' + +'Oh, aid!' + +'Oh, drum, my herald, and wind, my wings!' + +'Aye, verily--' + +'I approach you, encircled by winged and restless--' + +'Winged and restless--' + +'Their claws are open, their throats are extended--' + +'Extended--' + +'The mountains groan, the earth trembles within--' + +'Ah!--' + +'And I go ever fearfully, yet unhindered--' + +'Protect me, my lord, I cry to thee--' + +'For I am from the suffering nation!' + +'I am indeed.' + +'Mighty helper, angry, threatening saviour, have pity!' + +'We pray!--' + +'If I err, let me not perish on the pathless track!' + +'Let me not!' + +'Save the erring, lead me.' + +'We go--' + +Growing more and more animated, the old man stood up, and began to +dance. + +The dance resembled a march. The shaman described what he met in his +path in fantastic language, and by gestures. The attendant followed +him, repeating his words, and, at moments, supporting him by the +elbow. Thus they came to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly +the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in silence, and then sang: + +'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions below the earth, ruling +over the air, sickness, and death itself.--' + +'Oh, Etygar!' + +'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge wings, thou, who shelterest +from destruction--' + +'Iniany!' + +'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power of second-sight!' + +'And thou, Normandaï, whose piercing cry turns the heart to ice!' + +'And thou, iron-feathered Wavadabaki! And thou, whom we only know by +thy shadow!--' + +'I ask what you may require, and what is the cause of your anger? +Restrain your ministers, withhold your persecutions. Know ye not that +we perish, and if we perish, who will prepare your offering?' + +'Who will?' + +'To you I come defenceless, entangled in a long cloak. My head is bent +with years, my open eyes cannot see far.' + +'It is even so!' chimed in the attendant, who had been silent +hitherto, not daring to repeat all these awful incantations. + +'Going to the sea, and returning to the sea, I am a Nomad--' + +'Yea, verily--' + +'Ye like dark reindeer, ye like dappled reindeer; have they ceased to +be pleasing?' + +'Have they ceased?' + +'Ha! Ha! Ha! When you dance, do you forget us, and being merry, do you +shun us?' + +'Is it, perhaps, rich furs, silver, glass ornaments, coloured dresses, +sweet cakes, or vodka that you desire?' + +'That cannot be!' exclaimed the attendant. + +'Fools! Something, were it even everything, must be taken for the +powerful!' + +'Therefore choose a young girl from among us, and we will dedicate +her.' + +There was silence. + +'Oh, fiery Goloron, feared on the earth, proclaiming--' + +Again there was silence. + +Oltungaba beat the drum, and the strokes rolled like thunder between +the awful words, which, uttered haltingly, seemed to come from a +distance. + +'They give the scraps to the dogs! Let the people humble themselves, +and an obedient man be found; otherwise they will fade like the +morning mist.' + +'O-oh! How can we possibly give anything, possessing nothing?' + +'I will therefore tell you how it was in former days. Let it be he who +is proud, he who is rich, whose sons are famed for their shooting, and +daughters for their beauty; whom all love, whose thoughts are kind, +and counsels wise, whose heart is brave, whose hand is open, whose +soul seeks good. We wish to see the bewildered terror, the pale face, +the tears of separation.' + +Oltungaba became silent, and let the drum fall. + +'No!' he said, after a moment's reflection, 'I will not disclose the +name; possibly they may say; "Oltungaba is jealous." Yet what is human +blood to me? A shaman needs nothing but his drum.--I have said +everything.' + +He concluded the rest of the ceremony rapidly, and took his place +among the spectators, gloomy and exhausted. Tea was offered to him and +the more honoured guests. The young men began to kill reindeer for the +others, and to put the cauldron on the fire without delay. Yet none of +this was accompanied by the gaiety and animation which usually +prevails among the Tungus on such occasions. Those present talked with +great restraint, lowering their voices almost to a whisper. They +behaved with marked politeness to the family of Seltichan, and took +pains not even to look at their host. + +Seltichan was as calm and friendly as usual, as if he had not noticed +anything, and even tried to start a conversation with Oltungaba. But +the shaman preserved a gloomy silence. Then Seltichan began to relate +aloud how he had spent that year beyond the mountains, throwing in +various hunting anecdotes which he told with so much humour that he +was soon surrounded by cheered and even smiling faces. + +Only his favourite son, Miore, who was standing behind him, looked +gloomily at everyone. + +The frame of mind usual before a meal slowly gained the ascendancy. +And when the pieces of savoury meat were taken from the cauldron, +everyone had quite forgotten to be sad. Then Seltichan, forsaken by +his listeners, became depressed at once, and Miore, watching his +father attentively, grew gloomier still. + +Unable to restrain himself longer, the lad burst forth angrily to +Oltungaba, as he approached: 'I can see that you really want to make +away with the old man.' + +The latter regarded him with angry surprise. + +'You are young and ignorant--' + +'But nothing shall come of this,' Miore answered, and withdrew, +shaking his head. + +This short conversation did not escape other people's attention. + +By the end of the banquet Seltichan had regained his usual amiability, +as became a host who was entertaining the second day running without +regard to his herds. But on returning to his tent he no longer +concealed his anxiety, and sat meditatively before the fire, paying no +heed to anything; he did not even see the supper his wife placed +before him. + +'Eat, Seltichan; do not grieve, my lord; I am your faithful servant!' +she said at last, shaking him by the shoulder and looking at him +affectionately. + +The old man turned enquiringly towards his wife, and smiled. He ate +heartily and with relish, for, according to Tungus ideas, no event in +life is great enough to deprive a fat reindeer of its savouriness. + +The following morning Seltichan awoke earlier than the rest, and +possibly for the first time since becoming head of the family, he did +not stir the half-extinguished fire, but, without waking anyone, +quietly escaped from the tent. + +The sun was shining, although it had not yet risen above the +mountains. The dawn had disappeared, and it was broad daylight. Here +and there golden lines bordered the blue shadows of the clefts in the +snow-clad mountains. But meanwhile in the valleys, man and Nature were +still asleep:--the wood slept, wreathed in mist; the embers glowed +faintly on the cool hearths; the reindeer lay on the moss in the +bushes, chewing the cud. The only sounds were the gurgle of the river, +and the chuckle of the mountain pheasants, which were leaving their +hidden roosting places, and flying to the tree tops. + +The old man gazed at the familiar valley long and attentively. +Suddenly he trembled. He could see a man standing before one of the +tents in the distance; he also seemed to be looking at the surrounding +country. Seltichan's keen glance recognized Oltungaba, but the tent, +before which he was standing, belonged to the Kniaź. The old man's +face clouded, and he went home. + +'Get up, children!' he cried. 'Heh! Chun-Me! light the fire! You've +had enough sleep for a day like this!' + +They all sprang up frightened, and began to busy themselves. The old +man looked on with pleasure while the work was silently shared in the +order established by centuries. The women put the tea-kettle and +cauldron on the fire, and carried the bedding out of doors; the men, +after examining their thongs and arms, prepared to go into the wood to +call the herd together. The bustle stopped when the tea was ready. +They all sat down gravely round a plank serving as table, but as the +host was silent, no one dared to talk, although all, not excepting old +Nioren, were excited. The young women and girls looked at their father +in unspeakable fear. Miore was sad and angry, but 'Sparkling Ice' +regarded the old man with respect, not unmixed with a certain degree +of curiosity. + +After drinking his tea, Seltichan ate something, and lighted his pipe. +Then he said to his youngest son: + +'Go out, boy, and call the people.' + +Miore did not stir from his seat. + +'Do you hear?' + +Not until the command had been repeated threateningly did the lad rise +and begin to buckle on his things. But, instead of going, he suddenly +threw himself at his father's feet. + +'Are you determined? Are you determined? Oh, father do not leave us! +The family will never agree to it. I was talking to the young men +yesterday, and they said: "Rather than that, let all our reindeer die, +and we will live by industry." But if they do decide on that in the +end,--let the fat Kniaź be killed!' + +'You are foolish, my boy,' the old man said with a smile. 'You do not +know yet what I shall do. I wish to see the people.--Go, I tell you!' + +'Oh, my lord, why do you deceive us with hope?' + +'Don't talk nonsense.--I have already told you--' + +'They will never let us off; it would be better to escape secretly.' + +'I have already told you--' the old man repeated obstinately. + +'Oh Father, let us escape, let us escape!' they all begged, stretching +out their hands towards him. But the old man thrust away Miore, the +most impetuous of them all, with a kick in the chest, and cried: + +'Cursed birds of ill-omen, cease from breaking my heart!' + +'I would like to know,' said 'Sparkling Ice,' who had been gloomy and +silent hitherto, 'why Miore does not obey when our father commands +him?' + +The lad, who was lying as he had fallen, rose, and left the tent in +silence. + + * * * * * + +Once more the people, from small to great, were assembled at the +column in the valley. The armed men were dressed in their best +attire,--various kinds of fur, which hung in long fringes. The sun +shone on their ornaments as they took their seats in small bands +according to families. They amused themselves, wrestled, and in no way +betrayed the reason for coming there. + +The members of Seltichan's family were distinguished among the rest by +their choice arms and rich clothing, as well as by their strength, +skill, and the proud independance of their bearing. Seltichan himself, +who occupied the seat of honour among them, watched everything that +took place with great attention. + +'The tribe is enfeebled, and dying out,' he said from time to time. +'Was it not so with the family of Tumara? Where is Leljel, who was no +less flourishing than we? Where is Nilken?' + +'If you leave us, we also shall be enfeebled and dispersed,' his +family answered him. + +'"Sparkling Ice" will remain after me;--he is not my son, but my +comrade!' + +The grief of Seltichan's family on hearing this made the old man +hesitate as he looked at them. + +Meanwhile the excitement prevailing in the assembly increased, and +strange rumours were whispered abroad. Somehow it came about that the +members of Seltichan's family became more and more isolated from the +rest, and were greeted with silence when they approached. Miore and +some of the other young men were not disconcerted by this, however, +and continued to mix freely with the crowd. + +In the evening they all dispersed, but the excitement did not die +down, and was only transferred to the tents and the camp fires. People +sat talking in low voices until late into the night, alarmed when they +saw anything unusual. Several even sharpened their spears. 'A man like +that does not die without something happening,' they said. + +On the third day they all came fully armed. Many of the young warriors +brought their spears with them, and stood leaning on them outside the +circle. The deliberations did not begin, but the excited whispers +which passed round the crowd showed the passionate, though +restrained, feeling. All eyes were continually turned towards +Seltichan, who was sitting splendidly dressed among his sorrowing +family, he alone calm and cheerful. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' whispered several. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' asked the Kniaź, going from +one to the other. + +'Well, and what then?' they asked him at one meeting. 'Perhaps you +think it will be easier to get hold of the daughter when the old man +is not there? You need not expect it; "Sparkling Ice" will never give +her to you. He has not forgotten that little affair.' + +'What affair? May all my reindeer die, and may I stay in one place to +the end of my life, like a Russian in a wooden house, if that is +true,' swore the Kniaź. 'Oltungaba is not a man of that sort!' + +'Oltungaba drinks vodka!' + +The Kniaź became confused, and did not know what to answer at once. +'Idiots!' he finally exclaimed, and stroking both ears, he ran off to +carry his complaints elsewhere. + +All this increased the excitement, and caused a great deal of talk, +which ultimately reached Miore's ears through Seltichan's kinsmen. +'Father, they are deceiving you,' the youth exclaimed passionately, +going up to him. 'You are willing to die, but it is all the doing of +the Kniaź; he has bribed Oltungaba! He thinks there will be no one to +equal him when you are not here! Father, I beg you, escape quietly. +Our tents are struck, the young men are ready, the reindeer saddled; +we shall be on the mountains before they have noticed anything. And +even should they do so, are we not your children?' + +Seltichan's face clouded. + +'Let Oltungaba be summoned,--let him be tried!' he cried, rising. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' exclaimed many of Seltichan's family. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' was heard on all sides. + +The grey-haired old man entered the circle reluctantly, looking as +dark as moss. + +'Is it true that you have taken a bribe from the Kniaź? That out of +regard to him you have deceived us?' they all cried. + +'Wait a little; let one speak! Don't you see that I have only two +ears, so that a hundred voices only bewilder me?' + +'Then let one speak!' + +The head of one of the most distinguished families, who was very +highly respected, stepped forward, and sitting down, began to ask +questions. + +'Did you take bribes?' + +'Why shouldn't I take them? Don't I live on men's bounty? Haven't both +you and Seltichan given me some too? The Kniaź also gave one, but he +didn't ask for anything, and I promised him nothing. Is it not a sin +to suspect it? How is it possible to say such a thing? The man will +die! Ask his people.' + +Witnesses were summoned, and the Kniaź was summoned. They all stood in +the centre of the angry circle, looking rather frightened, but the +enquiry led to nothing. The only thing that was clear was that +Oltungaba had visited the Kniaź in his tent, as he had visited others, +and had profitted by his liberality. + +Stroking his ears with both hands, and swearing with quite unusual +fervour, the Kniaź talked at extraordinary length of his +disinterestedness, his merits, his zeal in safeguarding the interests +of the tribe with the government, and, above all, of his +sacrifices--in paying taxes. + +Oltungaba spoke scornfully, and in monosyllables. + +'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said finally, turning to the old +man. 'Have you forgotten how I loved and taught you when you were a +boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you old legends, and +about distant countries? Was I not your father's comrade,--his friend +when you were still a little child, crawling on the ground? And +later, when you grew up, did I not boast of you, and you, did you not +listen to my advice? Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among us? +Who spoke wisely and courteously?--You were always a true Tungus, +Seltichan; we all know that.--Was it the worst who were offered in +olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to all the tribes that I +spoke the truth. I said what a voice from heaven commanded me to say! +May my face be turned round to my back, and my body dried up like +tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, and my muscles grow weak like +badly dried yarn, and--may my hand burn, as the heart burns from +unkindness'--here with a rapid movement he put his hand into the +flame. + +They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the old man away from the fire. + +'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive me,' he said with +emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect evil. I will go,--I had already +determined to do so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, you +would be forced to go,--so would it be worth while? There is always +one rotten egg in a nest.--Can a man be a man without reindeer? What +is a Tungus without other Tungus?--I leave you, but you will not +forget me!--Good-bye!--May your herds increase! May your children grow +to manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May there be no lack of food +in your cauldrons, of powder in your horns, and of goodness in your +hearts!--I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, as the rays of the +setting sun.--I am going now; I take leave of you, my people! +--Farewell!' + +With a quick movement he tore the figured 'dalys' on his chest, and +plunged a knife up to the hilt into his heart. + +He stood for a moment, his fading glance passing round them all,--then +staggered, and fell. + +A single great sigh burst from the crowd. + +Oltungaba hastily knelt down beside the dying man, uncovered his +breast, and placing his right hand near the wound, stretched his left +towards the sun, crying: + +'Oh, thou God ruling all things, help us,--shield us! We are not the +last, and not the lowest, if we can send forth hearts like these!' + +'Hearts like these!' groaned the crowd. + +All, even the stout Kniaź, felt at that moment as if their hearts beat +with the same readiness for sacrifice as that which was growing cold +under Oltungaba's hand. + +'He was a warrior,' whispered the shaman after a moment, and picking +up the 'dalys,' he threw it over the face, quivering in its death +agony. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] 'Kniaź': Russian 'Soltys' = village mayor. + + + +PRINTED AT + +THE HOLYWELL PRESS + +OXFORD + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +Uncommon spellings in original retained. + +Missing and incorrect punctuation fixed. + +Hyphenated and non-hyphenated of same words retained as in original. + + P. iii: "Orford" changed to "Oxford" + P. 8: pronunciation key ditto marks changed to "English" + P. 55: "months had passd" changed to "months had passed". + P. 81: "couse" changed to "course" + P. 172: "asserverated" changed to "asseverated" + P. 180: "Then let is be so" changed to "Then let it be so" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + +***** This file should be named 35456-0.txt or 35456-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/5/35456/ + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/35456-0.zip b/35456-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ce7e5b --- /dev/null +++ b/35456-0.zip diff --git a/35456-8.txt b/35456-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe12e40 --- /dev/null +++ b/35456-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5485 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +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: Tales by Polish Authors + +Author: Various + +Translator: Else C. M. Benecke + +Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS + + + London + SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., LTD. + + + New York + LONGMANS, GREEN & Co. + FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET + + + + + TALES + + BY + + POLISH AUTHORS + + + HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + STEFAN ZEROMSKI ADAM SZYMANSKI + WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + + TRANSLATED BY + ELSE C. M. BENECKE + + + Oxford + + B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET + + 1915 + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + +Of the contemporary Polish authors represented in this volume only +Henryk Sienkiewicz is well known in England. Although the works of +Stefan Zeromski, Adam Szymanski, and Waclaw Sieroszewski are widely +read in Poland, none have as yet appeared in English, so far as the +present translator is aware. 'Srul--from Lubartw' is generally +considered one of the most striking of Adam Szymanski's Siberian +'Sketches.' The author writes from personal experience, having himself +been banished to Siberia for a number of years. The same can be said +of Waclaw Sieroszewski; during the fifteen years spent in Siberia as a +political exile, he made a study of some of the native tribes, +especially the Yakut and Tungus, and has written a great deal on this +subject. Stefan Zeromski is also one of the most distinguished modern +Polish novelists; several of his books have been translated into +French and German. + +The translator is under a deep obligation to the authors, MM. +Sienkiewicz, Szymanski, and Zeromski, for kindly allowing her to +publish these tales in English, and to Mr. J. H. Retinger, Secretary +of the Polish Bureau in London, for authorising the same on behalf of +M. Sieroszewski. + + E. C. M. B. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + PAGE + Henryk Sienkiewicz: '_Bartek the Conqueror_' 1 + Stefan Zeromski: '_Twilight_' 101 + '_Temptation_' 113 + Adam Szymanski: '_Srul--from Lubartw_' 119 + Waclaw Sieroszewski: '_In Autumn_' 137 + '_In Sacrifice to the Gods_' 163 + + + + +POLISH PRONUNCIATION: + + + After k, rz = English sh. + sz = English sh + cz = English ch + l = English w + w = English v + + + + +BARTEK THE CONQUEROR + +HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + + +CHAPTER I + +My hero's name was Bartek Slowik[1]; but owing to his habit of staring +when spoken to, the neighbours called him 'Bartek Goggle-Eyes.' +Indeed, he had little in common with nightingales, and his +intellectual qualities and truly childish _navet_ won him the +further nickname of 'Bartek the Blockhead.' This last was the most +popular, in fact, the only one handed down to history, though Bartek +bore yet a fourth,--an official--name. Since the Polish words 'man' +and 'nightingale'[2] present no difference to a German ear, and the +Germans love to translate Barbarian Proper names into a more cultured +language in the cause of civilization, the following conversation took +place when he was being entered as a recruit. + +'What is your name?' the officer asked Bartek. + +'Slowik.' + +'Szloik[3] _Ach, ja, gut._' + +And the officer wrote down 'Man.' + +Bartek came from the village of Pognebin, a name given to a great many +villages in the Province of Posen and in other parts of Poland. First +of all there was he himself, not to mention his land, his cottage and +two cows, his own piebald horse, and his wife, Magda. Thanks to this +combination of circumstances he was able to live comfortably, and +according to the maxim contained in the verse: + + To him whom God would bless He gives, of course, + A wife called Magda and a piebald horse. + +In fact, all his life he had taken whatever Providence sent without +troubling about it. But just now Providence had ordained war, and +Bartek was not a little upset at this. For news had come that the +Reserves would be called up, and that it would be necessary to leave +his cottage and land, and entrust it all to his wife's care. People at +Pognebin were poor enough already. Bartek usually worked at the +factory in the winter and helped his household on in this way;--but +what would happen now? Who could know when the war with the French +would end? + +Magda, when she had read through the papers, began to swear: + +'May they be damned and die themselves! May they be blinded!--Though +you are a fool--yet I am sorry for you. The French give no quarter; +they will chop off your head, I dare say.' + +Bartek felt that his wife spoke the truth. He feared the French like +fire, and was sorry for himself on this account. What had the French +done to him? What was he going after there,--why was he going to that +horrible strange land where not a single friendly soul was to be +found? He knew what life at Pognebin was like,--well, it was neither +easy nor difficult, but just such as it was. But now he was being told +to go away, although he knew that it was better to be here than +anywhere else. Still, there was no help for it;--such is fate. Bartek +embraced his wife, and the ten-year old Franek; spat, crossed himself, +and went out of the cottage, Magda following him. They did not take +very tender leave of one another. They both sobbed, he repeating, +'Come, come, hush!' and went out into the road. There they realized +that the same thing which had happened to them had happened to all +Pognebin, for the whole village was astir, and the road was obstructed +by traffic. As they walked to the station, women, children, old men +and dogs followed them. Everyone's heart was heavy; but a few smoked +their pipes with an air of indifference, and some were already +intoxicated. Others were singing with hoarse voices: + + 'Skrzynecki[4] died, alas! + No more his voice is heard; + His hand, bedeckt with rings, + No more shall wield the sword,' + +while one or two of the Germans from Pognebin sang 'Die Wacht am +Rhein' out of sheer fright. All that motley and many-coloured +crowd,--including policemen with glittering bayonets,--moved in file +towards the end of the village with shouts, bustle, and confusion. +Women clung to their 'warriors'' necks and wept; one old woman showed +her yellow teeth and waved her arms in the air; another cried: 'May +the Lord remember our tears!' There were cries of: 'Franek! Kaska! +Jzek! good-bye!' Dogs barked, the church bell rang, the priest even +said the prayers for the dying, since not one of those now going to +the station would return. The war had claimed them all, but the war +would not give them back. The plough would grow rusty in the field, +for Pognebin had declared war against the French. Pognebin could not +acquiesce in the supremacy of Napoleon III, and took to heart the +question of the Spanish succession. The last sounds of the bell +hovered over the crowd, which was already falling out of line. Heads +were bared as they passed the shrine. The light dust rose up from the +road, for the day was dry and fine. Along both sides of the road the +ripening corn, heavy in the ear, rustled and bowed in the gentle gusts +of wind. The larks were twittering in the blue sky, and each warbled +as if fearing he might be forgotten. + +At the station there was a still greater crowd, and more noise and +confusion! Here were men called in from Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, +from Wywlaszczyniec, from Niedola, and Mizerw. The station walls were +covered with proclamations in which war was declared in the Name of +God and the Fatherland: the 'Landwehr' was setting forth to defend +menaced parents, wives and children, cottages and fields. It was +evident that the French bore a special grudge against Pognebin, +Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, Wywlaszczyniec, Niedola, and Mizerw. +Such, at least, was the impression produced on those who read the +placards. Fresh crowds were continually assembling in front of the +station. In the waiting-room the smoke from the men's pipes filled the +air, and hid the placards. It was difficult to make oneself understood +in the noise, for everyone was running, shouting, and screaming. On +the platform orders were given in German. They sounded strangely +brief, harsh, and decisive. + +The bell rang. The powerful breath of the engine was heard in the +distance coming nearer,--growing more distinct. With it the war itself +seemed to be coming nearer. + +A second bell,--and a shudder ran through every heart. A woman began +to scream. 'Jadom, Jadom!' She was evidently calling to her Adam, but +the other women took up the word and cried, 'Jada.'[5] A shrill voice +among them added: 'The French are coming!' and in the twinkling of an +eye a panic seized not only the women, but also the future heroes of +Sedan. The crowd swerved. At that moment the train entered the +station. Caps and uniforms were seen to be at all the windows. +Soldiers seemed to swarm like ants. Dark, oblong bodies of cannon +showed grimly on some of the trucks, on others there was a forest of +bayonets. The soldiers had, apparently, been ordered to sing, for the +whole train shook with their strong masculine voices. Strength and +power seemed in some way to issue from that train, the end of which +was not even in sight. + +The Reservists on the platform began to fall in, but anyone who could +lingered in taking leave. Bartek swung his arms as if they were the +sails of a windmill, and stared. + +'Well, Magda, good-bye!' + +'Oh, my poor fellow!' + +'You will never see me again!' + +'I shall never see you again!' + +'There's no help for it!' + +'May the Mother of God protect and shelter you!' + +'Good-bye. Take care of the cottage.' + +The woman embraced him in tears. + +'May God guide you!' + +The last moment had come. The whistle and the women's crying and +sobbing drowned everything else. 'Good-bye! Good-bye!' But the +soldiers were already separated from the motley crowd, and formed a +dark, solid mass, moving forward in square columns with the certainty +and regularity of clockwork. The order was given: 'Take your seats!' +Columns and squares broke asunder from the centre, marched with heavy +strides towards the carriages, and jumped into them. The engine, now +breathing like a dragon and exhaling streams of vapour, sent forth +wreaths of grey smoke. The women cried and sobbed still louder; some +of them hid their eyes with their handkerchiefs, others waved their +hands towards the carriages; sobbing voices repeated the name of +husband and son. + +'Good-bye, Bartek!' Magda cried from amongst them. 'Take care of +yourself!--May the Mother of God--Good-bye! Oh, God!--' + +'And take care of the cottage,' answered Bartek. + +The line of trucks suddenly trembled, the carriages knocked against +one another,--and went forward. + +'And remember you have a wife and child,' Magda cried, running after +the train. 'Good-bye, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost! Good-bye----' + +On went the train, faster and faster, bearing away the warriors of +Pognebin, of both Krzywdas, of Niedola, and Mizerw. + + +CHAPTER II + +Magda, with the crowd of women, returned crying to Pognebin in one +direction; in the other the train, bristling with bayonets, rushed +into the grey distance, and Bartek with it. There seemed to be no end +to the long cloud of smoke; Pognebin was also scarcely visible. Only +the lime-tree showed faintly, and the church tower, glistening as the +rays of the sun played upon it. Soon the lime-tree also disappeared, +and the gilt cross resembled a shining speck. As long as that speck +continued to shine Bartek kept his eyes fixed upon it, but when that +vanished too there were no bounds to the poor fellow's grief. A sense +of great weakness came over him and he felt lost. So he began to look +at the Sergeant, for, after the Almighty, he already felt there was no +one greater than he. The Sergeant clearly knew what would become of +Bartek now; he himself knew nothing, understood nothing. The Sergeant +sat on the bench, and, supporting his rifle between his knees, he +lighted his pipe. The smoke rose in clouds, hiding his grave, +discontented face from time to time. Not Bartek's eyes alone watched +his face; all the eyes from every corner of the carriage were watching +it. At Pognebin or Krzywda every Bartek or Wojtek was his own master, +each had to think about himself, and for himself, but now the Sergeant +would do this for him. He would command them to look to the right, and +they would look to the right; he would command them to look to the +left, and they would look to the left. The question, 'Well, and what +is to become of us?' stood in each man's eyes, but he knew as much as +all of them put together, and also what was expected of them. If only +one were able by glances to draw some command or explanation from him! +But the men were afraid to ask direct, as war was now drawing near +with all the chances of being court-martialled. What was permitted and +was not permitted, and by whom, was unknown. They, at least, did not +know, and the sound of such a word as 'Kriegsgericht,' though they did +not understand it, frightened them very much. + +They felt that this Sergeant had still more power over them now than +at the manoeuvres in Posen; he it was who knew everything, and +without him nothing would be done. He seemed meanwhile to be finding +his rifle growing heavy, for he pushed it towards Bartek to hold for +him. Bartek reached out hastily for it, held his breath, stared, and +looked at the Sergeant as he would at a rainbow, yet derived little +comfort from that. Ah, there must surely be bad news, for even the +Sergeant looked worried. At the stations one heard singing and +shouting; the Sergeant gave orders, bustled about and swore, as if to +show his importance. But let the train once move on, and everyone, +including himself, was silent. Owing to him the world now seemed to +wear two aspects, the one clear and intelligible--that represented by +home and family--the other dark, yes, absolutely dark--that of France +and war. He effectually revived the spirits of the Pognebin soldiers, +not so much by his personality, as that each man carried him at the +back of his mind. And since each soldier carried his knapsack on his +shoulder, with his cloak and other warlike accoutrements, the whole +load was extremely heavy. + +All the while the train was shaking, roaring, and rushing along into +space. Now a station where they added fresh carriages and engines; now +another where helmets, cannon, horses, bayonets, and companies of +Lancers were to be seen. The fine evening drew in slowly. The sun sank +in a deep crimson, and a number of light flying clouds spread from the +edge of the darkening sky across to the west. The train, stopping +frequently at the stations to pick up passengers and carriages, shook +and rushed forward into that crimson brightness, as into a sea of +blood. From the open carriage, in which Bartek and the Pognebin troops +were seated, one could see villages, hamlets and little towns, church +steeples, storks--looking like hooks, as they stood on one leg on +their nests,--isolated cottages, and cherry orchards. Everything was +passed rapidly, and everything looked crimson. Meanwhile the soldiers, +growing bolder, began to whisper to one another, because the Sergeant, +having laid his kit bag under his head, had fallen asleep, with his +clay pipe between his teeth. Wojtek Gwizdala, a peasant from Pognebin, +sitting beside Bartek, jogged his elbow: 'Bartek, listen!' + +Bartek turned a face with pensive, wide open eyes towards him. + +'Why do you look like a calf going to be slaughtered?' Gwizdala +whispered. 'True, you, poor beggar, are going to be slaughtered, +that's certain!' + +'Oh, my word!' groaned Bartek. + +'Are you afraid?' Gwizdala asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' + +The crimson in the sky was growing deeper still, so Gwizdala pointed +towards it and went on whispering: + +'Do you see that brightness? Do you know, Blockhead, what that is? +That's blood. Here's Poland,--our frontier, say,--do you understand? +But there in the distance, where it's so bright, that's France +itself.' + +'And shall we be there soon?' + +'Why are you in such a hurry? They say that it's a terribly long way. +But never fear, the French will come out to meet us.' + +Bartek's Pognebin brain began to work laboriously. After some moments +he asked: 'Wojtek.' + +'Yes?' + +'What sort of people are these Frenchmen?' + +Here Wojtek's wisdom suddenly became aware of a pitfall into which it +might be easier to tumble headforemost than to come out again. He knew +that the French were the French. He had heard something about them +from old people, who had related that they were always fighting with +everyone; he knew at least that they were very strange people. But how +could he explain this to Bartek to make him understand how strange +they were? First of all, therefore, he repeated the question, 'What +sort of people?' + +'Why, yes.' + +Now there were three nations known to Wojtek: living in the centre +were the Poles; on the one side were the Russians, on the other the +Germans. But there were various kinds of Germans. Preferring, +therefore, to be clear rather than accurate, he said: + +'What sort of people are the French? How can I tell you; they must be +like the Germans, only worse.' + +At which Bartek exclaimed: 'Oh, the low vermin!' + +Up to that time he had had one feeling only with regard to the French, +and that was a feeling of unspeakable fear. Henceforth this Prussian +Reservist cherished the hatred of a true patriot towards them. But not +feeling quite clear about it all, he asked again: 'Then Germans will +be fighting Germans?' + +Here Wojtek, like a second Socrates, chose to adopt a simile, and +answered: + +'But doesn't your dog, Lysek, fight with my Burek?' + +Bartek opened his mouth and looked at his instructor for a moment: +'Ah! true.' + +'And the Austrians are Germans,' explained Wojtek, 'and haven't they +fought against us? Old Swierzcz said that when he was in that war +Steinmetz used to shout: "On, boys, at the Germans!" Only that's not +so easy with the French.' + +'Good God!' + +'The French have never been beaten in any war. When they attack you, +don't be afraid, don't disgrace yourself. Each man is worth two or +three of us, and they wear beards like Jews. There are some as dark +as the devil. Now that you know what they are like, commend yourself +to God!' + +'Well, but then why do we run after them?' Bartek asked in +desperation. + +This philosophical remark was possibly not as stupid as it appeared to +Wojtek, who, evidently influenced by official opinion, quickly had his +answer ready. + +'I would rather not have gone myself, but if we don't run after them, +they will run after us. There's no help for it. You have read what the +papers say. It's against us peasants that they bear the chief grudge. +People say that they have their eyes on Poland, because they want to +smuggle vodka out of the country, and the Government won't allow it, +and that's why there's war. Now do you understand?' + +'I cannot understand,' Bartek said resignedly. + +'They are also as greedy for our women as a dog for a bone,' Wojtek +continued. + +'But surely they would respect Magda, for example?' + +'They don't even respect age!' + +'Oh!' cried Bartek in a voice implying, 'If that is so then I will +fight!' + +In fact this seemed to him really too much. Let them continue to +smuggle vodka out of Poland,--but let them dare to touch Magda! Our +friend Bartek now began to regard the whole war from the standpoint of +his own interests, and took courage in the thought of how many +soldiers and cannon were going out in defence of Magda, who was in +danger of being outraged by the French. He arrived at the conviction +that there was nothing for it but to go out against them. + +Meanwhile the brightness had faded from the sky, and it had grown +dark. The carriages began to rock violently on the uneven rails, and +the helmets and bayonets shook from right to left to the rhythm of the +rocking. Hour after hour passed by. Millions of sparks flew from the +engine and crossed one another in the darkness, serpentining in long +golden lines. For a while Bartek could not sleep. Like those sparks in +the wind, thoughts leapt into his mind about Magda, about Pognebin, +the French and the Germans. He felt that though he would have liked to +have lain down on the bench on which he was sitting, he could not do +so. He fell asleep, it is true, but it was a heavy, unrefreshing +sleep, and he was at once pursued by dreams. He saw his dog, Lysek, +fighting with Wojtek's Burek, till all their hair was torn off. He was +running for a stick to stop them, when suddenly he saw something else: +sitting with his arm round Magda was a dark Frenchman, as dark as the +earth; but Magda was smiling contentedly. Some Frenchmen jeered at +Bartek, and pointed their fingers at him. In reality it was the engine +screaming, but it seemed to him that the French were calling, 'Magda! +Magda! Magda!' 'Hold your tongue, thieves,' Bartek shouted, 'leave my +wife alone!' but they continued calling 'Magda! Magda! Magda!' Lysek +and Burek started barking, and all Pognebin cried out, 'Don't let your +wife go!' Was he bound, or what was the matter? No, he rushed forward, +tore at the cord and broke it, seized the Frenchman by the head,--and +suddenly--! + +Suddenly he was seized with severe pain, as from a heavy blow. Bartek +awoke and dragged his feet to the ground. The whole carriage awoke, +and everyone asked, 'What has happened?' In his sleep the unfortunate +Bartek had seized the Sergeant by the head. He stood up immediately, +as straight as a fiddle-string, two fingers at his forehead; but the +Sergeant waved his hand, and shouted like mad: + +'Ach, Sie! beast of a Pole! I'll knock all the teeth out of your +head,--blockhead!' + +The Sergeant shouted until he was hoarse with rage, and Bartek stood +saluting all the while. Some of the soldiers bit their lips in order +not to laugh, but they were half afraid, too. A parting shot burst +forth from the Sergeant's lips: + +'You Polish Ox! Ox from Podolia!' + +Ultimately everything became quiet again. Bartek sat back in his old +place. He was conscious of nothing but that his cheek was swollen, +and, as if playing him a trick, the engine kept repeating: + +'Magda! Magda! Magda!' + +He felt a heavy weight of sorrow upon him. + + +CHAPTER III + +It was morning! + +The fitful, pale light fell on faces sleepy and worn with a long +restless night. The soldiers were sleeping in discomfort on the seats, +some with their heads thrown forward, others with their noses in the +air. The dawn was rising and flooding all the world with crimson +light. The air was fresh and keen. The soldiers awoke. The morning +rays were drawing away shadows and mist into some region unknown. +Alas! and where was now Pognebin, where Great and Little Kzrywda, +where Mizerw? Everything was strange and different. The summits of +the hills were overgrown with trees; in the valleys were houses hidden +under red roofs, with dark crucifixes on the white walls,--beautiful +houses like mansions, covered with vines. Here, churches with spires, +there, factory chimneys with wreaths of purple smoke. There were only +straight lines, level banks, and fields of corn. The inhabitants +swarmed like ants. They passed villages and towns, and the train went +through a number of unimportant stations without stopping. Something +must have happened, for there were crowds to be seen everywhere. When +the sun slowly began to appear from behind the hills, one or two of +the soldiers commenced saying a prayer aloud. Others followed their +example, and the first rays of splendour fell on the men's earnest, +devout faces. + +Meanwhile the train had stopped at a larger station. A crowd of people +immediately surrounded it: news had come from the seat of war. +Victory! Victory! Telegrams had been arriving for several hours. +Everyone had anticipated defeat, so when roused by the unexpected +news, their joy knew no bounds. People rushed half-clad from their +houses and their beds, and ran to the post-office. Flags were waving +from the roofs, and handkerchiefs from everyone's hands. Beer, tobacco +and cigars were carried to the carriages. The enthusiasm was +unspeakable; everyone's face was beaming. 'Die Wacht am Rhein' filled +the air continuously like a tempest. Not a few were weeping, others +embraced one another. The enthusiasm animating the crowd imparted +itself to the gallant soldiers, their courage rose, and they too began +to sing. The carriages trembled with their strong voices, and the +crowd listened in wonder to their unintelligible songs. The men from +Pognebin sang: + + 'Bartoszu! Bartoszu! never lose hope!' + +'The Poles, the Poles!' repeated the crowd by way of explanation, +and, gathering round the carriages, admired their soldierly bearing, +and added to their joy by relating anecdotes of the remarkable courage +of these Polish Regiments. + +Bartek had unshaven cheeks, which, in addition to his yellow +moustache, goggle-eyes, and large bony face, made him look terrifying. +They gazed at him as at some wild beast. These, then, were the men who +were to defend Germany! Such were they who had just disposed of the +French! Bartek smiled with satisfaction, for he too was pleased that +they had beaten the French. Now they would not go to Pognebin, they +would not make off with Magda, nor capture his land. So he smiled, but +as his cheek hurt him badly, he made a grimace at the same time, and +did certainly look terrifying. Then, displaying the appetite of a +Homeric warrior, he caused pea-sausages and pints of beer to disappear +into his mouth as into a vacuum. People in the crowd gave him cigars +and pence, and they all drank to one another. + +'There's some good in this German nation,' he said to Wojtek, adding +after a moment, 'and you know they have beaten the French!' + +But Wojtek, the sceptic, cast a shadow on his joy. Wojtek had +forebodings, like Cassandra: + +'The French always allow themselves to be beaten at first, in order to +take you in, and then they set to until they have cut you to pieces!' + +Wojtek did not know that the greater part of Europe shared his +opinion, in general, and in particular now. + +They travelled on. All the houses were covered with flags. They +stopped a long while at several of the stations, because there was a +block of trains everywhere. Troops were hastening from all sides of +Germany to reinforce their brothers in arms. The trains were swathed +in green wreaths, and the Lancers had decorated their lances with the +bunches of flowers given them on the way. The majority of these +Lancers also were Poles. More than one conversation and greeting was +heard passing from carriage to carriage: + +'How are you, old fellow, and where is God Almighty leading you?' + +Meanwhile to the accompaniment of the train rumbling along the rails, +the well-known song rang out:-- + + 'Flirt with us, soldiers! dears!' + Cried the girls of Sandomierz. + +And soon Bartek and his comrades caught up the refrain:-- + + Gaily forth the answer burst: + 'Bless you, dears! but dinner first!' + +As many as had gone out from Pognebin in sorrow were now filled with +enthusiasm and spirit. A train which had arrived from France with the +first batch of wounded, damped this feeling of cheerfulness, however. +It stopped at Deutz, and waited a long time to allow the trains +hurrying to the seat of war to go by. The men were marched across the +bridge _en route_ for Cologne. Bartek ran forward with several others +to look at the sick and wounded. Some lay in closed, others in open +carriages, and these could be seen well. At the first glance our +hero's heart was again in his mouth. + +'Come here, Wojtek,' he cried in terror. 'See how many of our +countrymen the Frenchmen have done for!' + +It was indeed a sight! Pale, exhausted faces, some darkened by +gunpowder or by pain, or stained with blood. To the sounds of +universal rejoicing these men only responded by groans. Some were +cursing the war, the French and the Germans. Parched lips called every +moment for water, eyes rolled in delirium. Here and there, amongst the +wounded, were the rigid faces of the dead, in some cases peaceful, +with blue lines round their eyes, in others contorted through the +death struggle, with terrifying eyes and grinning teeth. Bartek saw +the bloody fruits of war for the first time, and once more confusion +reigned in his mind. He seemed quite stupefied, as, standing in the +crowd, with his mouth open, he was elbowed from every side, and +pomelled on the neck by the police. He sought Wojtek's eyes, nudged +him, and said, + +'Wojtek, may Heaven preserve us! It's horrible!' + +'It will be just the same with you.' + +'Jesu! Mary! That human beings should murder one another like this! +When a fellow kills another the police take him off to the magistrate +and prison!' + +'Well, but now whoever kills most human beings is to be praised. What +were you thinking of, Blockhead: did you think you would use gunpowder +as in the manoeuvres, and would shoot at targets instead of people?' + +Here the difference between theory and practice certainly stood out +clearly. Notwithstanding that our friend Bartek was a soldier, had +attended manoeuvres and drill, had practised rifle shooting, had +known that the object of war was to kill people, now, when he saw +blood flowing, and all the misery of war, it made him feel so sick and +miserable he could hardly keep himself upright. He was impressed anew +with respect for the French; this diminished, however, when they +arrived at Cologne from Deutz. At the Central Station they saw +prisoners for the first time. Surrounding them was a number of +soldiers and people, who gazed at them with interest, but without +hostility. Bartek elbowed his way through the crowd, and, looking into +the carriage, was amazed. + +A troop of French infantry in ragged cloaks, small, dirty, and +emaciated, were packed into the carriages like a cask of herrings. +Many of them stretched out their hands for the trifling gifts +presented to them by the crowd, if the sentinels did not prevent them. +Judging from what he had heard from Wojtek, Bartek had had a wholly +different impression of the French, and this took his breath away. He +looked to see if Wojtek were anywhere about, and found him standing +close by. + +'What did you say?' asked Bartek. 'By all the Saints! I shouldn't be +more surprised if I had lost my head!' + +'They must have been starved somehow,' answered Wojtek, equally +disillusioned. + +'What are they jabbering?' + +'It's certainly not Polish.' + +Reassured by this impression, Bartek walked on past the carriages. +'Miserable wretches!' he said, when he had finished his review of the +Regulars. + +But the last carriages contained Zouaves, and these gave Bartek food +for further reflection. From the fact that they sat huddled together +in the carriages, it was impossible to discover whether each man were +equal to two or three ordinary men; but, through the window, he saw +the long, martial beards, and grave faces of veteran soldiers with +dark complexions and alarmingly shining eyes. Again Bartek's heart +leapt to his mouth. + +'These are the worst of all,' he whispered low, as if afraid they +might hear him. + +'You have not yet seen those who have not let themselves be taken +prisoner,' replied Wojtek. + +'Heaven preserve us!' + +'Now do you understand?' + +Having finished looking at the Zouaves, they walked on. At the last +carriage Bartek suddenly started back as if he had touched fire. + +'Oh, Wojtek, Lord help us!' + +There was the dark--nearly black--face of a Turco at the open window, +rolling his eyes so that the whites showed. He must have been wounded, +for his face was contorted with pain. + +'But what's the matter?' asked Wojtek. + +'That must be the Evil One, it's not a soldier. Lord have mercy on my +sins!' + +'Look at his teeth!' + +'May he go to perdition! I shan't look at him any longer.' + +Bartek was silent, then asked after a moment: + +'Wojtek?' + +'Yes?' + +'Mightn't it be a good thing to cross oneself before anyone like +that?' + +'The heathen don't understand anything about the holy truth.' + +The signal was given for taking their seats. In a few moments the +train was moving. When it grew dusk Bartek continually saw before him +the Turco's dark face with the terrible white of his eyes. From the +feeling which at the moment animated this Pognebin soldier, it would +not have been possible to foretell his future deeds. + + +CHAPTER IV + +The particular share he took at first in the pitched battle of +Gravelotte, merely convinced Bartek of this fact,--that in war there +is plenty to look at, but nothing to do. For at the commencement he +and his regiment were told to order arms and wait at the bottom of a +hill covered by a vineyard. The guns were booming in the distance, +squadrons of cavalry charged past near at hand with a clatter which +shook the earth; then the flags passed, then Cuirassiers with drawn +swords. The shells on the hill flew hissing across the blue sky in the +form of small white clouds, then smoke filled the air and hid the +horizon. The battle seemed like a storm which passes through a +district without lasting long anywhere. + +After the first hours, unusual activity was displayed round Bartek's +regiment. Other regiments began to be massed round his, and in the +spaces between them, the guns, drawn by plunging horses, rushed along, +and, hastily unlimbered, were pointed towards the hill. The whole +valley became full of troops. Commands were now thundered from all +sides, the Aides-de-Camps rushed about wildly, and the private +soldiers said to one another: + +'Ah! it will be our turn now! It's coming!' or enquired uneasily of +one another, + +'Isn't it yet time to start?' + +'Surely it must be!' + +The question of life and death was now beginning to hang in the +balance. Something in the smoke, which hid the horizon, burst close at +hand with a terrible explosion. The deep roar of the cannon and the +crack of the rifle firing was heard ever nearer; it was like an +indistinct sound coming from a distance,--then the mitrailleuse became +audible. Suddenly the guns, placed in position, boomed forth until the +earth and air trembled together. The shells whistled frightfully +through Bartek's company. Watching they saw something bright red, a +little cloud, as it might be, and in that cloud something whistled, +rushed, rattled, roared, and shrieked. The men shouted: 'A shell! A +shell,' and at the same moment this vulture of war sped forward like a +gale, came near, fell, and burst! A terrible roar met the ear, a crash +as if the world had collapsed, followed by a rushing sound, as before +a puff of wind! Confusion reigned in the lines standing in the +neighbourhood of the guns, then came the cry and command 'Stand +ready!' Bartek stood in the front rank, his rifle at his shoulder, his +head turned towards the hill, his mouth set,--so his teeth were not +chattering. He was forbidden to tremble, he was forbidden to shoot. He +had only to stand still and wait! But now another shell burst,--three, +four, ten. The wind lifted the smoke from the hill: the French had +already driven the Prussian battery from it, had placed theirs in +position, and now opened fire on to the valley. Every moment from +under cover of the vineyard they sent forth long white columns of +smoke. Protected by the guns, the enemy's infantry continued to +advance, in order to open fire. They were already half way down the +hill and could now be seen plainly, for the wind was driving the smoke +away. Would the vineyard prove an obstacle to them? No, the dark caps +of the infantry were advancing. Suddenly they disappeared under the +tall arches of the vines, and there was nothing to be seen but +tricolour flags waving here and there. The rifle fire began fiercely +but intermittently, continually starting in fresh and unexpected +places. Shells burst above it, and crossed one another in the air. Now +and then cries rang out from the hill, which were answered from below +by a German 'Hurrah!' The guns from the valley sent forth an +uninterrupted fire; the regiment stood unflinching. + +The line of fire began to embrace it more closely, however. The +bullets hummed in the distance like gnats and flies, or passed near +with a terrible whizz. More and more of them came:--hundreds, +thousands, whistling round their heads, their noses, their eyes, their +shoulders; it was astonishing there should be a man left standing. +Suddenly Bartek heard a groan close by: 'Jesu!' then 'Stand ready!' +then again 'Jesu!' 'Stand ready!' Soon the groans went on without +intermission, the words of command came faster and faster, the lines +drew in closer, the whizzing grew more frequent, more uninterrupted, +more terrible. The dead covered the ground. It was like the Judgment +Day. + +'Are you afraid?' Wojtek asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' our hero answered, his teeth chattering. + +Nevertheless both Bartek and Wojtek still kept their feet, and it did +not even enter their heads to run away. They had been commanded to +stand still and receive the enemy's fire. Bartek had not spoken the +truth; he was not as much afraid as thousands of others would have +been in his place. Discipline held the mastery over his imagination, +and his imagination had never painted such a horrible situation as +this. Nevertheless Bartek felt that he would be killed, and he +confided this thought to Wojtek. + +'There won't be room in Heaven for the numbers they kill,' Wojtek +answered in an excited voice. + +These words comforted Bartek perceptibly. He began to hope that his +place in Heaven had already been taken. Re-assured with regard to +this, he stood more patiently, conscious only of the intense heat, and +with the perspiration running down his face. Meantime the firing +became so heavy that the ranks were thinning visibly. There was no one +to carry away the killed and wounded; the death rattle of the dying +mingled with the whizz of shells and the din of shooting. One could +see by the movement of the tricolour flags that the infantry hidden by +the vines was coming closer and closer. The volleys of mitrailleuse +decimated the ranks; the men were beginning to grow desperate. + +But underlying this despair were impatience and rage. Had they been +commanded to go forward, they would have gone like a whirlwind. It was +impossible to merely stand still in one spot. A soldier suddenly threw +down his helmet with his whole force, and exclaimed: + +'Curse it! One death is as good as another!' + +Bartek again experienced such a feeling of relief from these words +that he almost entirely ceased to be afraid. For if one death was as +good as another, what did anything matter? This rustic philosophy was +calculated to arouse courage more rapidly than any other. Bartek knew +that one death was as good as another, but it pleased him to hear it, +especially as the battle was now turning into a defeat. For here was a +regiment which had never fired a single shot, and was already half +annihilated. Crowds of soldiers from other regiments which had been +scattered, ran in amongst and round theirs in disorder; only these +peasants from Pognebin, Great and Little Krzywda, and Mizerw still +remained firm, upholding Prussian discipline. But even amongst them a +certain degree of hesitation now began to be felt. Another moment and +they would have burst the restraint of discipline. The ground under +their feet was already soft and slippery with blood, the stench of +which mingled with the smell of gunpowder. In several places the lines +could not join up closely, because the dead bodies made gaps in them. +At the feet of those men yet standing, the other half lay bleeding, +groaning, struggling, dying, or in the silence of death. There was no +air to breathe in. They began to grumble: + +'They have brought us out to be slaughtered!' + +'No one will come out of this!' + +'Silence, Polish dogs!' sounded the officer's voice. + +'I should just like you to be standing in my shoes!' + +'Where is that fellow?' + +Suddenly a voice began to repeat: + +'Beneath Thy Shadow....' + +Bartek instantly took it up: + +'We flee, O holy Son of God!' + +And soon on that field of carnage a chorus of Polish voices was +calling to the Defender of their nation: + +'Of Thy favour regard our prayers.' + +while from beneath their feet there came the accompaniment of groans: +'Mary! Mary!' She had evidently heard them, for at that moment the +Aide-de-Camps came galloping up, and the command rang forth: 'Arms to +the attack! Hurrah! Forward!' The crest of bayonets was suddenly +lowered, the column stretched out into a long line and sprang towards +the hill to seek with their bayonets the enemy they could not discover +with their eyes. The men were, however, still two hundred yards from +the foot of the hill, and they had to traverse that distance under a +murderous fire. Would they not perish like the rest? Would they not be +obliged to retreat? Perish they might, but retreat they could not, for +the Prussian commander knows what tune will bring Polish soldiers to +the attack. Amid the roar of cannon, amid the rifle fire and the +smoke, the confusion and groaning, loudest of all sounded the drums +and trumpets, playing the hymn at which every single drop of blood +leapt in their veins. 'Hurrah!' answered the Macki[6] 'as long as we +live!' Frenzy seized them. The fire met them full in the face. They +went like a whirlwind over the prostrate bodies of men and horses, +over the wrecks of cannon. They fell, but they went with a shout and a +song. They had already reached the vineyard and disappeared into its +enclosure. Only the song was heard, and at times a bayonet glittered. +On the hill the firing became increasingly fierce. In the valley the +trumpets kept on sounding. The French volleys continued faster and +faster,--still faster,--and suddenly-- + +Suddenly they were silent. + +Down in the valley that old wardog, Steinmetz, lighted his clay pipe, +and said in a tone of satisfaction: + +'You have only to play to them! The daredevils will do it!' + +And actually in a few moments one of the proudly waving tricolours was +suddenly raised aloft, then drooped, and disappeared. + +'They are not joking,' said Steinmetz. + +Again the trumpets played the hymn, and a second Polish regiment went +to the help of the first. In the enclosure a pitched battle with +bayonets was taking place. + +And now, oh Muse, sing of our hero, Bartek, that posterity may know +of his deeds! The fear, impatience, and despair of his heart had +mingled into the single feeling of rage, and when he heard that music +each vein stood out in him like cast iron. His hair stood on end, his +eyes shot fire. He forgot everything that had made up his world; he no +longer cared whether one death was as good as another. Grasping his +rifle firmly in his hands, he leapt forward with the others. Reaching +the hill he fell down for the tenth time, struck his nose, and, +bespattered with mud and the blood flowing from his nose, ran on madly +and breathlessly, catching at the air with open mouth. He stared +round, wishing to find some of the French in the enclosure as quickly +as possible, and caught sight of three standing together near the +flags. They were Turcos. Would Bartek retreat? No, indeed; he could +have seized the horns of Lucifer himself now! He ran towards them at +once, and they fell on him with a shout; two bayonets, like two deadly +stings, had actually touched his chest already, but Bartek lowered his +bayonet. A dreadful cry followed,--a groan, and two dark bodies lay +writhing convulsively on the ground. + +At that moment the third, who carried the flag, ran up to help his two +comrades. Like a Fury, Bartek leapt on him with his whole strength. +The firing flashed and roared in the distance, while Bartek's hoarse +roar rang out through the smoke: + +'Go to Hell!' + +And again the rifle in his hand described a fearful semi-circle, again +groans responded to his thrusts. The Turcos retreated in terror at the +sight of this furious giant, but either Bartek misunderstood, or they +shouted out something in Arabic, for it seemed to him that their thick +lips distinctly uttered the cry: 'Magda! Magda!' + +'Magda will give it you!' howled Bartek, and with one leap he was in +the enemy's midst. + +Happily at that moment some of his comrades ran up to his assistance. +A hand to hand fight now took place in the enclosure of the vineyard. +There was the crack of rifles at close quarters, and the hot breath of +the combatants sounded through their nostrils. Bartek raged like a +storm. Blinded by smoke, streaming with blood, more like a wild beast +than a man, and regardless of everything, he mowed down men at each +blow, broke rifles, cracked heads. His hands moved with the terrible +swiftness of a machine sowing destruction. He attacked the Ensign, and +seized him by the throat with an iron grip. The Ensign's eyes turned +upwards, his face swelled, his throat rattled, and his hands let the +pole fall. + +'Hurrah!' cried Bartek, and, lifting the flag, he waved it in the air. + +This was the flag raised aloft and drooping, which Steinmetz had seen +from below. + +But he could only see it for half a second, for in the next--Bartek +had trampled it to shreds. Meanwhile his comrades were already rushing +on ahead. + +Bartek remained alone for a moment. He tore off the flag, hid it in +his breast pocket, and, having seized the pole in both hands, rushed +after his comrades. + +A crowd of Turcos, shouting in a barbarous tongue, now fled towards +the gun placed on the summit of the hill, the Macki after them, +shouting, pursuing, striking with butt-end and bayonet. + +The Zouaves, who were stationed by the guns, received the first men +with rifle fire. + +'Hurrah!' shouted Bartek. + +The men ran up to the guns, and a fresh struggle took place round +these. At that moment the second Polish regiment came to the aid of +the first. The flag pole in Bartek's powerful hands was now changed +into a kind of infernal flail. Each stroke dealt by it opened a free +passage through the close lines of the French. The Zouaves and Turcos +began to be seized with panic, and they fled from the place where +Bartek was fighting. Within a few moments Bartek was sitting astride +the gun, as he might his Pognebin mare. + +But scarcely had the soldiers had time to see him on this, when he was +already on the second, after killing another Ensign who was standing +by it with the flag. + +'Hurrah, Bartek!' repeatedly exclaimed the soldiers. + +The victory was complete. All the ammunition was captured. The +infantry fled, and after being surrounded by Prussian reinforcements +on the other side of the hill, laid down their arms. + +Bartek captured yet a third flag during the pursuit. + +It was worth seeing him, when exhausted, covered with blood, and +blowing like a blacksmith's bellows, he now descended the hill +together with the rest, bearing the three flags on his shoulder. The +French? Why, what had not he alone done to them! By his side went +Wojtek, scratched and scarred, so he turned to him and said: + +'What did you say? Why, they are miserable wretches; there isn't a +scrap of strength in their bones! They have just scratched you and me +like kittens, and that's all. But how I have bled them you can see by +the ground!' + +'Who would have known that you could be so brave!' replied Wojtek, who +had watched Bartek's deeds, and began to look at him in quite a +different light. + +But who has not heard of these deeds? History, all the regiment and +the greater number of the officers. Everybody now looked with +astonishment at this country giant with the flaxen moustache and +goggle eyes. The Major himself said to him, 'Ah, you confounded Pole!' +and pulled his ear, making Bartek grin to his back teeth with +pleasure. When the regiment stood once more at the foot of the hill, +the Major pointed him out to the Colonel, and the Colonel to Steinmetz +himself. + +The latter noticed the flags, and ordered that they should be taken +charge of; then he began to look at Bartek. Our friend Bartek again +stood as straight as a fiddle string, presenting arms, and the old +General looked at him and shook his head with pleasure. Finally he +began to say something to the Colonel; the words 'non-commissioned +officer' were plainly audible. + +'Too stupid, Your Excellency!' answered the Major. + +'Let us try,' said His Excellency, and turning his horse, he +approached Bartek. + +Bartek himself scarcely knew what was happening to him: it was a thing +unknown in the Prussian Army for the General to talk to a Private! His +Excellency was the more easily able to do this, because he knew +Polish. Moreover this Private had captured three flags and two guns. + +'Where do you come from?' enquired the General. + +'From Pognebin,' answered Bartek. + +'Good. Your name?' + +'Bartek Slowik.' + +'Mensch,' explained the Major. + +'Mens!' Bartek tried to repeat. + +'Do you know why you are fighting the French?' + +'I know, Your Excellency.' + +'Tell me.' + +Bartek began to stammer, 'Because, because--' Then on a sudden +Wojtek's words fortunately came into his mind, and he burst out with +them quickly, so as not to get confused: 'Because they are Germans +too, only worse villains!' + +His Excellency's face began to twitch as if he felt inclined to burst +out laughing. After a moment, however, His Excellency turned to the +Major, and said: + +'You are right, Sir.' + +Our friend Bartek, satisfied with himself, remained standing as +straight as a fiddle string. + +'Who won the battle to-day?' the General asked again. + +'I, Your Excellency,' Bartek answered without hesitation. + +His Excellency's face again began to twitch. + +'Right, very right, it was you! And here you have your reward.' + +Here the old soldier unpinned the iron cross from his own breast, +stooped and pinned it on to Bartek. The General's good humour was +reflected in a perfectly natural way on the faces of the Colonel, the +Majors, the Captains, down to the non-commissioned officers. After the +General's departure the Colonel for his own part presented Bartek with +ten thalers, the Major with five, and so on. Everyone repeated to him +smilingly that he had won the battle, with the result that Bartek was +in the seventh heaven. + +It was a strange thing: the only person who was not really satisfied +with our hero was Wojtek. + +In the evening, when they were both sitting round the fire, and when +Bartek's distinguished face was bulging as much with pea sausage as +the sausage itself, Wojtek ejaculated in a tone of resignation: + +'Oh Bartek, what a blockhead you are, because--' + +'But why?' said Bartek, between his bites of sausage. + +'Why, man, didn't you tell the General that the French are Germans?' + +'You said so yourself.' + +'And what of that?--' + +Wojtek began to stammer a little--'Well, though they may be Germans, +you needn't have told him so, because it's always unpleasant--' + +'But I said it about the French, not about them....' + +'Ah, because when....' + +Wojtek stopped short, though evidently wishing to say something +further; he wished to explain to Bartek that it is not suitable when +among Germans to speak evil of them, but somehow his tongue became +entangled. + + +CHAPTER V + +A little while later the Royal Prussian Mail brought the following +letter to Pognebin: + + May Jesus Christ and His Holy Mother be praised. + + DEAREST MAGDA! What news of you? It is all right for you to + be able to rest quietly in bed at home, but I am fighting + horribly hard here. We have been surrounding the great fort + of Metz, and there was a battle, and I did for so many of the + French that all the Infantry and Artillery were astonished. + And the General himself was astonished, and said that I had + won the battle, and gave me a cross. And the officers and + non-commissioned officers respect me very much now, and + rarely box my ears. Afterwards we marched on further, and + there was a second battle, but I have forgotten what the town + was called; there also I seized and carried off four flags, + and knocked down one of the biggest Colonels in the + Cuirassiers, and took him prisoner. And as our regiment is + going to be sent home, the Sergeant has advised me to ask to + be transferred and to stay on here, for in war it is only + sleep you do not get, but you may eat as much as you can + stand, and in this country there is wine everywhere, for they + are a rich nation. We have also burnt a town and we did not + spare even women or children, nor did I. The church was burnt + on purpose, because they are Catholics, and very wicked + people. We are now going on to the Emperor himself, and that + will be the end of the war, but you take care of the cottage + and Franek, for if you do not take care of it, then I will + beat you till you have learnt what sort of a man I am. I + commend you to God. + + Bartlomiej Slowik. + +Bartek was evidently developing a taste for war, and beginning to +regard it as his proper trade. He felt greater confidence in himself, +and now went into battle as he might have gone to his work at +Pognebin. Medals and crosses covered his breast, and although he did +not become a non-commissioned officer, he was universally regarded as +the foremost Private in the regiment. He was always well disciplined, +as before, and possessed the blind courage of the man who simply takes +no account of danger. The courage actuating him was no longer of the +same kind as that which had filled him in his first moments of fury, +for it now sprang from military experience and faith in himself. Added +to this his giant strength could endure all kinds of fatigue, marches, +and overstrain. Men fell at his side, he alone went on unharmed, only +working all the harder and developing more and more into the stern +Prussian soldier. He now not only fought the French, but hated them. +Some of his other ideas also changed. He became a soldier-patriot, +blindly extolling his leaders. In another letter to Magda he wrote: + + Wojtek is divided in his opinion, and so there is a quarrel + between us, do you understand? He is a scoundrel, too, + because he says that the French are Germans, but they are + French, and we are Germans. + +Magda, in her reply to both letters, set about abusing him with the +first words that came into her head. + + Dearest Bartek (she wrote), married to me before the holy + Altar! May God punish you! You yourself are a scoundrel, you + heathen, going with those wretches to murder half a nation of + Catholics. Do you not understand, then, that those wretches + are Lutherans, and that you, a Catholic, are helping them? + You like war, you ruffian, because you are able now to do + nothing but fight, drink, and illtreat others, and to go + without fasting; and you burn churches. But may you burn in + Hell for that, because you are even proud of it, and have no + thought for old people or children. Remember what has been + written in golden letters in the Holy Scriptures about the + Polish nation, from the beginning of the world to the + Judgment Day,--when God most High will have no regard for + sluggards,--and restrain yourself, you Turk, that I may not + smash your head to pieces. I have sent you five thalers, + although I have need of them here, for I do not know which + way to turn, and the household savings are getting short. I + embrace you, dearest Bartek. + + MAGDA. + +The moral contained in these lines made little impression on Bartek. +'The wife does not remember her vows,' he thought to himself, 'and is +meddling.' And he continued to make war on the aged. He distinguished +himself in every battle so greatly, that finally he again came under +the honoured notice of Steinmetz. Ultimately when the shattered Polish +regiment was sent back into the depths of Germany, he took the +sergeant's advice of applying for leave to be transferred, and stayed +behind. The result of this was that he found himself outside Paris. + +His letters were now full of contempt for the French. 'They run away +like hares in every battle,' he wrote to Magda, and he wrote the +truth. But the siege did not prove to his taste. He had to dig or to +lie in the trenches round Paris for whole days, listening to the roar +of the guns, and often getting soaked through. Besides, he missed his +old regiment. In the one to which he had been transferred as a +volunteer, he was surrounded by Germans. He knew some German, having +already learnt a little at the factory, but only about five in ten +words; now he quickly began to grow familiar with it. The regiment +nicknamed him 'the Polish dog,' however, and it was only his +decorations and his terrifying fists which shielded him from +disagreeable jokes. Nevertheless, he earned the respect of his new +comrades, and began little by little to make friends with them. Since +he covered the whole regiment with glory, they ultimately came to look +upon him as one of themselves. Bartek would always have considered +himself insulted if anyone called him German, but in thinking of +himself in distinction to the French he called himself 'ein +Deutscher.' To himself he appeared entirely distinct, but at the same +time he did not wish to pass for worse than others. An incident +occurred, nevertheless, which might have given him plenty to reflect +upon, had reflection come more easily to this hero's mind. Some +Companies of his regiment had been sent out against some volunteer +sharpshooters, and laid an ambush for them, into which they fell. But +the detachment was composed of veteran soldiers, the remains of some +of the foreign regiments, and this time Bartek did not see the dark +caps running away after the first shots. They defended themselves +stubbornly when surrounded, and rushed forward to force their way +through the encircling Prussian soldiery. They fought so desperately +that half of them cut their way through, and knowing the fate that +awaited captured sharpshooters, few allowed themselves to be taken +alive. The Company in which Bartek was serving therefore only took two +prisoners. These were lodged overnight in a forester's house, and the +next day they were to be shot. A small guard of soldiers stood outside +the door, but Bartek was stationed in the room under the open window +with the prisoners, who were bound. + +One of the prisoners was a man no longer young, with a grey moustache, +and a face expressing indifference to everything; the other appeared +to be about twenty-two years of age. With his fair moustache yet +scarcely showing, his face was more like a woman's that a soldier's. + +'Well, this is the end of it,' the young man said after a while, 'a +bullet through your head--and it's all over!' + +Bartek shuddered until the rifle in his hand rattled; the youth talked +Polish. + +'It is all the same to me,' the second answered in a gruff voice, 'as +I live, all the same! I have lived so long, I have had enough.' + +Bartek's heart beat quicker and quicker under his uniform. + +'Listen, then,' the older man continued, 'there is no help for it. If +you are afraid, think about something else, or go to sleep. Enjoy what +you can. As God loves me, I don't care!' + +'My mother will grieve for me,' the youth replied low; and, evidently +wishing to suppress his emotion, or else to deceive himself, he began +to whistle. He suddenly interrupted this, and cried in a voice of deep +despair, 'I did not even say good-bye!' + +'Then did you run away from home?' + +'Yes. I thought the Germans would be beaten, so there would be better +things coming for Poland.' + +'And I thought the same. But now--' + +Waving his hand, the old man finished speaking in a low voice, and his +last words were overpowered by the roar of the wind. The night was +dark. Clouds of fine rain swept past from time to time; the wood close +by was black as a pall. The gale whistled round the corners of the +room, and howled in the chimney like a dog. The lamp, placed high +above the window to prevent the wind from extinguishing it, threw a +flood of bright light into the room. But Bartek, who was standing +close to it under the window, was plunged in darkness. + +And it was perhaps better the prisoners should not see his face, for +strange things were taking place in this peasant's mind. At first he +had been filled with astonishment, and had stared hard at the +prisoners, trying to understand what they were saying. So these men +had set out to beat the Germans to benefit Poland, and he had beaten +the French, in order that Poland might benefit! And to-morrow these +two men would be shot! How was that? What was a poor fellow to think +about it? But if only he could hint it to them, if only he could tell +them that he was their man, that he pitied them! He felt a sudden +catch in his throat. What could he do for them? Could he rescue them? +Then _he_ would be shot! Good God! what was happening to him? He was +so overcome by pity that he could not remain in the room. + +A strange intense longing suddenly came upon him till he seemed +somewhere far off at Pognebin. Pity, hitherto an unknown guest in his +soldier's heart, cried to him from the depth of his soul: 'Bartek, +save them, they are your brothers!' and his heart, torn as never +before, cried out for home, for Magda, for Pognebin. He had had +enough of the French, enough of this war, and of battles! The voice +sounded clearer and clearer: 'Bartek, save them!' Confound this war! +The woods showed dark through the open window, moaning like the +Pognebin pines, and even in that moan something called out, 'Bartek, +save them!' + +What could he do? Should he escape to the wood with them, or what? All +his Prussian discipline recoiled in aversion at the thought. In the +Name of the Father and the Son! He need but cross himself at it! +He,--a soldier, and desert? Never! + +All the while the wood was moaning more loudly, the wind whistling +more mournfully. + +The elder prisoner suddenly whispered, 'That wind--like the Spring at +home.' + +'Leave me in peace!' the young man said in a Pognebin voice. + +After a moment, however, he repeated several times: + +'At home, at home, at home! God! God!' + +Deep sighs mingled with the listening wind, and the prisoners lay +silent once more. + +Bartek began to tremble feverishly. There is nothing so bad for a man +as to be unable to tell what is amiss with him. It seemed to Bartek as +if he had stolen something, and were afraid of being taken in charge. +He had a clear conscience, nothing threatened him, but he was +certainly terribly afraid of something. Indeed, his legs were +trembling, his rifle had grown dreadfully heavy, and something--like +bitter sobs--was choking him. Were these for Magda, or for Pognebin? +For both, but also for that younger prisoner whom it was impossible to +help. + +At times Bartek fancied he must be asleep. All the while the storm +raged more fiercely round the house, and the cries and voices +multiplied strangely in the whistling of the wind. + +Suddenly every hair of Bartek's head stood on end under his helmet. +For it seemed as if somewhere from out of the dark, rain-clad depths +of the forest somebody were groaning, and repeating: 'At home, at +home, at home!' + +Bartek started back, and struck the floor with the butt end of his +rifle to wake himself. He regained consciousness somehow and looked +up. The prisoners lay in the corner, the lamp was burning brightly, +the wind was howling,--all was in order. + +The light fell full on to the face of the younger prisoner--a child's +or girl's face. As he lay there with closed eyes, and straw under his +head, he looked as if he were already dead. + +Never in his life had Bartek been so wrung with pity! Something +distinctly gripped his throat, and an audible cry was wrung from his +breast. + +At that moment the elder prisoner turned wearily on to his side, and +said, 'Good-night, Wladek.' Silence followed. An hour passed. + +The wind played like the Pognebin organ. The prisoners lay silent. +Suddenly the younger prisoner, raising himself a little by an effort, +called, 'Karol?' + +'What?' + +'Are you asleep?' + +'No.' + +'Listen! I am afraid. Say what you like, but I shall pray.' + +'Pray, then.' + +'Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come.' + +Sobs suddenly interrupted the young prisoner's words, yet the broken +voice was still heard: 'Thy--will--be--done!' + +'Oh Jesu!' something cried in Bartek, 'Oh Jesu!' + +Impossible! He could stand it no longer.--Another moment, and +exclaiming 'Lord, I am only a man!' he had leapt through the window +into the wood. Let come what may! Suddenly measured steps were heard +echoing from the direction of the hall: it was the patrol, the +Sergeant with it. They were changing the guard! + +Next day Bartek was drunk all day from early morning. The following +day likewise.... + +But fresh advances, fighting, and marches took place during the days +following, and I am glad to say that our hero regained his +equilibrium. A certain fondness for the bottle, in which it is always +possible to find pleasure and at times forgetfulness, remained with +him after that night, however. For the rest, in battle he was more +terrible than ever; victory followed in his wake. + + +CHAPTER VI + +Some months had passed, and the Spring was now well advanced. The +cherry trees at Pognebin were in blossom and the young corn was +sprouting abundantly in the fields. One day Magda, seated in front of +the cottage, was peeling some rotten potatoes for dinner, fitter for +cattle than for human beings. But it was Spring-time, and poverty had +visited Pognebin. That could be seen too by the saddened and worried +look on Magda's face. Possibly in order to distract herself, the +woman, closing her eyes, sang in a thin, strained voice: + + Alas, my Jasienko has gone to the war! he writes me letters; + Alas, and I his wife write to him,--for I cannot see him. + +The sparrows twittered in the cherry trees as if they were trying to +emulate her. She stopped her song and gazed absently at the dog +sleeping in the sun, at the road passing the cottage, and the path +leading from the road through the garden and field. Perhaps Magda +glanced at the path because it led across to the station and, as God +willed, she did not look in vain that day. A figure appeared in the +distance, and the woman shaded her eyes with her hand, but she could +not see clearly, being blinded by the glare. Lysek woke up, however, +raised his head, and giving a short bark, began to grow excited, +pricking up his ears and turning his head from side to side. At the +same moment the words of a song reached Magda indistinctly. Lysek +sprang up suddenly and ran at full speed towards the newcomer. Then +Magda turned a little pale. + +'Is it Bartek,--or not?' + +She jumped up so quickly that the bowl of potatoes rolled on to the +ground: there was no longer any doubt; Lysek was bounding up to his +shoulder. The woman rushed forward, shouting in the full strength of +her joy: 'Bartek! Bartek!' + +'Magda, here I am!' Bartek cried, throwing her a kiss, and hurrying +towards her. He opened the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all +but fell, recovered himself,--and they were clasped in one anothers' +arms. + +The woman began to speak quickly: + +'And I had thought that you would not come back. I thought "they will +kill him!"--How are you?--Let me see. How good to look at you! You are +terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor fellow!--Oh, my dearest!... He has come +back, come back!' + +For one moment she tore herself from his neck and looked at him, then +threw herself on to it again. + +'Come back! The Lord be praised! Bartek, my darling! How are you? Go +indoors! Franek is at school being teased by that horrid German! The +boy is well. He's as dull in the upper storey as you are. Oh, but it +was time for you to come back! I didn't know any more which way to +turn. I was miserable, I tell you, miserable! This whole poor house is +going into ruins. The roof is off the barn. How are you? Oh, Bartek! +Bartek! That I should actually see you, after all! What trouble I have +had with the hay!--The neighbours helped me, but they did it to help +themselves! How are you?--Well? Oh, but I am glad to have you,--glad! +The Lord watched over you. Go indoors. By God, it's like Bartek, and +not like Bartek! What's the matter with you? Oh dear! Oh dear!' + +At that instant Magda had become aware of a long scar running along +Bartek's face across his left temple and cheek and down to his beard. + +'It's nothing.--A Cuirassier did it for me, but I did the same for +him. I have been in hospital.' + +'Oh Jesu!' + +'Why, it's a mere flea-bite.' + +'But you are starved to death.' + +'Ruhig!' answered Bartek. + +He was in truth emaciated, begrimed and in rags:--a true conqueror! He +swayed too as he stood. + +'What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?' + +'I--am still weak.' + +That he was weak, was certain, but he was tipsy also. For one glass of +vodka would have been sufficient in his state of exhaustion, and +Bartek had drunk something like four at the station. The result was +that he had the bearing of the true conqueror. He had not been like +this formerly. + +'Ruhig!' he repeated. 'We have finished the Krieg. I am a gentleman +now, do you understand? Look here!' he pointed to his crosses and +medals. 'Do you know who I am? Eh? Links! Rechts! Heu! Stroh! Halt!' + +At the word, 'halt,' he gave such a shrill shout that the woman +recoiled several steps. + +'Are you mad?' + +'How are you, Magda? When I say to you "how are you" then how are you? +Do you know French, stupid? "Musiu, Musiu!" What is "Musiu?" I am a +"Musiu," do you understand?' + +'Man, what's up with you?' + +'What's that to you! Was? "Don diner," do you understand?' + +A storm began to gather on Magda's brow. + +'What rubbish are you jabbering? What's this,--you don't know Polish? +That's all through those wretches. I said how it would be! What have +they done to you?' + +'Give me something to eat!' + +'Be quick indoors.' + +Every command made an irresistible impression on Bartek; hearing this +'Be quick' he drew himself up, held his hand stiffly to his side, and, +having made a half-turn, marched in the direction indicated. He stood +still at the threshold, however, and began to look wonderingly at +Magda. + +'Well, what do you want, Magda? What do...?' + +'Quick! March!' + +He entered the cottage, but fell over the threshold. The vodka was now +beginning to go to his head. He started singing, and looked round the +cottage for Franek, even saying 'Morgen, Kerl,' although Franek was +not there. After that he laughed loudly, staggered, shouted 'Hurrah!' +and fell full length on the bed. In the evening he awoke sober and +rested, and welcomed Franek, then, having got some pence out of Magda, +he took his triumphant way to the inn. The glory of his deeds had +already preceded him to Pognebin, since more than one of the soldiers +from other divisions of the same regiment, having returned earlier, +had related how he had distinguished himself at Gravelotte and Sedan. +So now when the rumour spread that the conqueror was at the inn, all +his old comrades hastened there to welcome him. + +No one would have recognized our friend Bartek, as he now sat at the +table. He, formerly so meek, was to be seen striking his fist on the +table, puffing himself out and gobbling like a turkey-cock. + +'Do you remember, you fellows, that time I did for the French, what +Steinmetz said?' + +'How could we forget?' + +'People used to talk about the French, and be frightened of them, but +they are a poor lot--_was_? They run like hares into the lettuce, and +run away like hares too. They don't drink beer either, nothing but +strong wine.' + +'That's it!' + +'When we burnt a town they would wring their hands immediately and cry +"Piti, piti,"[7] as if they meant they would give us a drink if we +would only leave them alone. But we paid no attention to them.' + +'Then can one understand their gibberish?' enquired a young farmer's +lad. + +'You wouldn't understand, because you are stupid, but I understand. +"Don di pe!"[8] Do you understand?' + +'But what did you do?' + +'Do you know about Paris? We had one battle after another there, but +we won them all. They have no good commanders. People say so too. "The +ground enclosed by the hedge is good," they say, "but it has been +badly managed." Their officers are bad managers, and their generals +are bad managers, but on our side they are good.' + +Maciej Kierz, the wise old innkeeper of Pognebin, began to shake his +head. + +'Well, the Germans have been victorious in a terrible war; they have +been victorious--but I always thought they would be. But the Lord +alone knows what will come out of it for us.' + +Bartek stared at him. + +'What do you say?' + +'The Germans have never cared to consider us much, anyhow, but, now +they will be as stuck up as if there were no God above them. And they +will illtreat us still more than they do already.' + +'But that's not true!' Bartek said. + +Old Kierz was a person of such authority in Pognebin that all the +village always thought as he did, and it was sheer audacity to +contradict him. But Bartek was a conqueror now, and an authority +himself. All the same they gazed at him in astonishment, and even in +some indignation. + +'Who are you, to quarrel with Maciej? Who are you--?' + +'What's Maciej to me? It isn't to such as he that I have talked, you +see! Why, you fellows, I talked, didn't I, to Steinmetz--_was_? But +let Maciej fancy what he likes. We shall be better off now.' + +Maciej looked at the conqueror for a moment. + +'You Blockhead!' he said. + +Bartek struck his fist on the table, making all the glasses and +pint-pots start up. + +'Still, der Kerl da! Heu! Stroh!' + +'Silence, no row! Ask the Priest or the Count, Blockhead.' + +'Was the Priest in the war? Or was the Count there? But I was there. +It's not true, boys. They'll know now how to respect us. Who won the +battle? We won it, I won it. Now they'll give us anything we ask for. +If I had wanted to become a land-owner in France, I should have stayed +there. The Government knows very well who gave the French the best +beating. And our regiment was the best. They said so in the military +despatches. So now the Poles will get the upper hand;--do you see?' + +Kierz waved his hand, stood up, and went out. Bartek had carried off +the victory in the field of politics also. The young men remaining +with him, regarded him as a perfect marvel. He continued: + +'As if they wouldn't give me anything I want! If I don't get it, I +should like to know who would! Old Kierz is a scoundrel, do you see? +The Government commands you to fight, so you must fight. Who will +illtreat me? The Germans? Is it likely?' + +Here he again displayed his crosses and medals. + +'And for whom did I beat the French? Not for the Germans, surely? I am +a better man now than a German, for there's not one German as strong. +Bring us some beer! I have talked to Steinmetz, and I have talked to +Podbielski. Bring us some beer!' + +They slowly prepared for their carouse. + +Bartek began to sing: + + Drink, drink, drink, + As long as in my pocket + Still the pennies chink! + +Suddenly he took a handful of pence from his pocket. + +'Beer! I am a gentleman now.--Won't you? I tell you in France we were +not so flush of money;--there was little we didn't burn, and few +people we didn't put a shot into!--God doesn't know which--of the +French--.' + +A tippler's moods are subject to rapid changes. Bartek unexpectedly +raked together the money from the table, and began to exclaim sadly: + +'Lord, have mercy on the sins of my soul!' + +Then, propping both elbows on the table, and hiding his head in his +hands, he was silent. + +'What's the matter?' inquired one of the drinkers. + +'Why was I to blame for them?' Bartek murmured sadly. 'It was their +own look-out. I was sorry for them, for they were both in my hands. +Lord! have mercy! One was as the ruddy dawn! next day he was as white +as cheese. And even after that I still--Vodka!' + +A moment of gloomy silence followed. The men looked at one another in +astonishment. + +'What is he saying?' one asked. + +'He is settling something with his conscience.' + +'A man must drink in spite of that war.' + +He filled up his glass of vodka once or twice, then he spat, and his +good humour unexpectedly returned. + +'Have you ever stood talking to Steinmetz? But I have! Hurrah!--Drink! +Who pays? I do!' + +'You may pay, you drunkard,' sounded Magda's voice, 'but I will repay +you! Never fear!' + +Bartek looked at his wife with glassy eyes. + +'Have you talked to Steinmetz? Who are you?' + +Instead of replying to him, Magda turned to the interested listeners, +and began to exclaim: + +'Oh, you men, you wretched men, do you see the disgrace and misery I +am in? He came back, and I was glad to welcome him as a good man, but +he came back drunk. He has forgotten God, and he has forgotten +Polish. He went to sleep, he woke up sober, and now he's drinking +again, and paying for it with my money, which I had earned by my own +work. And where have you taken that money from? Isn't it what I have +earned by all my trouble and slavery? I tell you men, he's no longer a +Catholic, he's not a man any more, he's bewitched by the Germans, he +jabbers German, and is just waiting to do harm to people. He's +possessed....' + +Here the woman burst into tears; then, raising her voice an octave +higher:--'He was stupid, but he was good. But now, what have they done +to him? I looked out for him in the evening, I looked out for him in +the morning, and I have lived to see him. There is no peace and no +mercy anywhere. Great God! Merciful God!--If you had only left it +alone,--if you had only remained German altogether!' + +Her last words ended in such a wail, it was almost like a cadence. But +Bartek merely said: + +'Be quiet, or I shall do for you!' + +'Strike me, hit my head, hit me now, kill me, murder me!' the woman +screamed, and stretching her neck forward, she turned to the man. + +'And you fellows, watch!--' + +But the men were beginning to disperse. The inn was soon deserted, and +only Bartek and his wife, with her neck stretched forward, remained. + +'Why do you stretch out your neck like a goose?' murmured Bartek. 'Go +home.' + +'Hit me!' repeated Magda. + +'Well, I shan't hit,' replied Bartek, putting his hands into his +pockets. Here the innkeeper, wishing to put an end to the quarrel, +turned out one of the lights. The room became dark and silent. After a +while Magda's shrill voice sounded through the darkness: + +'Hit me!' + +'I shan't hit,' replied Bartek's triumphant voice. + +Two figures were to be seen going by moonlight from the inn to the +cottage. One of them, walking in front, was sobbing loudly; that was +Magda; after her, hanging his head and following humbly enough, went +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + + +CHAPTER VII + +Bartek went home so tipsy that for some days he was unfit for work. +This was most unfortunate for all his household affairs, which were in +need of a strong man to look after them. Magda did her best. She +worked from morning till night, and the neighbours helped her as well +as they could, but even so she could not make both ends meet, and the +household was being ruined little by little. Then there were a few +small debts to the German Colonist, Just, who, having at a favourable +moment bought some thirteen acres of waste land at Pognebin, now had +the best property in the whole village. He had ready money besides, +which he lent out at sufficiently high interest. He lent it chiefly to +the owner of the property, Count Jarzynski, who bore the nickname of +the 'Golden Prince,' but who was obliged to keep up his house in a +style of befitting splendour for that very reason. Just, however, also +lent to peasants. For six months Magda had owed him some twenty +thalers, part of which she had borrowed for her housekeeping, and +part to send to Bartek during the war. Yet that need not have +mattered. God had granted a good harvest, and it would have been +possible to repay the debt out of the incoming crop, provided that the +hands and the labour were forthcoming. Unluckily Bartek could not +work. Magda did not quite believe this, and went to the priest for +help, thinking he might rouse her husband; but this was really +impossible. When at all tired, Bartek grew short of breath and his +wounds pained him. So he sat in front of the cottage all day long, +smoking his clay pipe with the figure of Bismarck in white uniform and +a Cuirassier's helmet, and gazed at the world with the drowsy eyes of +a man still feeling the effects of bodily fatigue. He pondered a +little on the war, a little on his victories, on Magda,--a little on +everything, a little on nothing. + +One day, as he sat thus, he heard Franek crying in the distance on his +way home from school. He was howling till the echoes rang. + +Bartek pulled his pipe out of his mouth. + +'Why, Franek, what's the matter with you?' + +'What's the matter?' repeated Franek, sobbing. + +'Why are you crying?' + +'Why shouldn't I cry, when I have had my ears boxed?' + +'Who boxed your ears?' + +'Who? Why, Herr Boege!' + +Herr Boege filled the post of schoolmaster at Pognebin. + +'And has he a right to box your ears?' + +'I suppose so, as he did it.' + +Magda, who had been hoeing in the garden, came through the hedge, and, +with the hoe in her hand, went up to the child. + +'What are you saying?' she asked. + +'What am I saying--? If that Boege didn't call me a Polish pig, and +give me a box on the ears, and say that just as they have beaten the +French now, so they will trample us underfoot, for they are the +strongest. And I had done nothing to him, but he had asked me who is +the greatest person in the world, and I had said it was the Holy +Father, but he boxed my ears, and I began to cry, and he called me a +Polish pig, and said that just as they have beaten the French....' + +Franek was beginning it all over again,--'and he said, and I +said,'--but Magda covered his mouth with her hand, and she herself, +turning to Bartek, exclaimed:-- + +'Do you hear? Do you hear? Go to the French war, then let a German +beat your child like a dog!--Curse him! Go to the war, and let this +Swabian kill your child!--You have your reward!... May....' + +Here Magda, moved by her own eloquence, also began to cry to Franek's +accompaniment. Bartek stared open-mouthed with astonishment, and could +not bring out a single word, or comprehend in the least what had +happened. How was this? And what of his victories?--He sat on in +silence for some moments, then suddenly something leaped into his +eyes, and the blood rushed to his face. With ignorant people +astonishment, like terror, often turns to rage. Bartek sprang up +suddenly, and jerked out through his clenched teeth:-- + +'I will talk to him!' + +And he went out. It was not far to go; the school lay close to the +church. Herr Boege was just standing in front of the verandah, +surrounded by a herd of young pigs, to which he was throwing pieces of +bread. + +He was a tall man, about fifty years of age, still as vigorous as an +oak. He was not particularly stout, but his face was very fat, and he +had a pair of very protruding eyes which expressed courage and energy. + +Bartek went up to him very quickly. + +'German, why have you been beating my child? _Was?_' he asked. + +Herr Boege took a few steps backwards, measured him with a glance +without a shade of fear, and said phlegmatically:-- + +'Begone, Polish prize-fighter!' + +'Why have you been beating my child?' repeated Bartek. + +'I will beat you too, you low Polish scoundrel! I will show you who is +master here. Go to the devil, go to the law,--begone!' + +Bartek, having seized the schoolmaster by the shoulder, began to shake +him roughly, crying in a hoarse voice:-- + +'Do you know who I am? Do you know who did for the French? Do you know +who talked to Steinmetz? Why do you beat my child, you cursed Swabian +dog?' + +Herr Boege's protruding eyes glared no less than Bartek's, but Boege +was a strong man, and he resolved to free himself from his assailant +by a single blow. This blow descended with a loud smack on the face of +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + +At that the man forgot everything. Boege's head was shaken from side +to side with a swift motion recalling a pendulum, but with this +difference that the shaking was alarmingly rapid. The formidable +vanquisher of Turcos and Zouaves awoke in Bartek once more. Boege's +twelve year old son, Oscar, a lad as strong as his father, ran in vain +to his assistance. A short, but terrible struggle took place, in which +the son fell to the ground, and the father felt himself lifted up into +the air. Bartek, raising his hand, held him there, he himself +scarcely knew how. Unluckily the tub of dishwater, which Herr Boege +had been assiduously mixing for the pigs, stood near. Into this tub +Herr Boege now capsized, and a moment later his feet were to be seen +projecting from it, and kicking violently. His wife darted out of the +house:-- + +'Help, to the rescue!' + +The German colonists rushed from the houses near to their neighbour's +assistance. Some of them fell on Bartek and began to belabour him with +sticks and stones. In the general confusion which followed it was +difficult to distinguish Bartek from his adversaries: some thirteen +bodies were to be seen rolling round in a single mass, and struggling +convulsively. + +Suddenly, however, from out of this fighting mass Bartek burst forth +like fury, making towards the hedge with all his might. + +The Germans ran after him, but an alarming crack was heard in the +hedge at the same moment, and Bartek's iron hands brandished a stout +stick. + +He returned raging and furious, holding the stick in the air: they all +fled. + +Bartek went after them, but luckily did not overtake anyone. Thus his +rage cooled, and he began to retreat homewards. Ah! if only it had +been the French he had been facing! His retreat would then have made +immortal history. + +As it was, he was being attacked by about a dozen people who, when +they had reassembled, set on him afresh. Bartek retired slowly, like a +wild boar pursued by dogs. He turned round now and then and stood +still: then his pursuers stood still too. The stick had earned their +complete respect. + +They threw stones at him, nevertheless, one of which wounded Bartek in +the forehead. The blood poured into his eyes, and he felt himself +growing faint. He swayed once or twice, let go the stick, and fell +down. + +'Hurrah!' cried the Germans. + +But by the time they reached him, Bartek had got up again: then they +held back. This wounded wolf was still dangerous. Besides, he was now +not far from the first cottage, and some labourers could be seen in +the distance hurrying to the battlefield at full speed. The Germans +retired to their houses. + +'What has happened?' enquired the newcomers. + +'I have been trying my hand a bit on the Germans,' Bartek answered. +And he fainted. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It proved a serious affair. The German newspapers published flaming +articles on the persecutions to which the peaceful German population +was subjected at the hands of the barbarian and ignorant masses, who +were roused by socialist agitation and religious fanaticism. Boege +became a hero. He, the quiet, gentle schoolmaster, spreading the light +of learning on the far borders of the Empire; he, the true missionary +of culture amid barbarians, had fallen a first victim to the riot. It +was fortunate that there were a hundred million Germans to stand up +for him, who would never allow.... And so on. + +Bartek did not know what a storm was brewing over his head. On the +contrary, he was in good spirits; he was certain that he would win at +the trial. For Boege had beaten his child, and had dealt him the first +blow, and it had afterwards been he who had been attacked from behind! +Surely he had a right to defend himself. They had also thrown a stone +at his head,--actually thrown it at him, who had been mentioned in the +daily despatches, who had won the battle of Gravelotte, had talked to +Steinmetz himself, and received so many medals. It is true it never +entered his head that the Germans did not know all this when they +wronged him so greatly, any more than it occurred to him that Boege +could substantiate his threat to Pognebin that the Germans would now +trample it underfoot in the same way in which they, the Pognebinites, +had so thoroughly beaten the French whenever they had had an +opportunity. But as for himself, he was certain that public opinion +and the Government would be in his favour. They would certainly know +who he was, and what he had done during the war. If he was not a +different man to what he thought him, Steinmetz would espouse his +cause. Since Bartek was the poorer through the war, and his house in +debt, they were, anyhow, not doing him justice. + +All the same, the police from Pognebin rode up to Bartek's house. They +had expected serious resistance, for as many as five appeared with +loaded revolvers. They were mistaken; Bartek had not thought of +offering any resistance. They told him to get into the carriage,--and +he got in. Magda alone was desperate, persistently repeating:-- + +'Oh dear, what did you fight those French for? You will catch it now, +poor fellow, that you will!' + +'Be quiet, stupid!' Bartek answered, and smiled quite cheerfully to +the passers-by as he drove along. + +'I'll show them who it is they have offended!' he cried from the +carriage. + +And, covered with his medals, he drove along to the trial like a +conqueror. + +As a matter of fact, the trial went in his favour. The judge decided +to be lenient under the circumstances: Bartek was only condemned to +three months' imprisonment. + +In addition to this he had to pay a fine of 150 marks to the Boege +family and 'other injured colonists.' + +'Nevertheless the prisoner,' wrote the _Posener Zeitung_ in the +Criminal Report, 'showed not the slightest sign of contrition when the +sentence was passed on him, but poured forth such a stream of +invective, and began to enumerate his so-called services to the State +in such an impudent manner, that it is surprising these insults to the +Court and the German nation,' etc., etc. + +Meanwhile Bartek in prison quietly recalled his deeds at Gravelotte, +Sedan, and Paris. + +We should, however, be doing an injustice in asserting that Herr +Boege's action called forth no public censure. Very much the reverse. +On a certain rainy morning a Polish Member of Parliament pointed out +with great eloquence that the attitude of the Government towards the +Poles had altered in Posen; that, considering the courage and +sacrifice displayed by the Polish regiments during the war, it would +be fitting to have more regard for justice in the Polish provinces; +finally, that Herr Boege at Pognebin had abused his position as +schoolmaster by beating a Polish child, calling it a Polish pig, and +holding out hopes that after this war the inhabitants would trample +the native population under foot. The rain fell as the Member was +speaking, and as such weather makes people sleepy, the Conservatives +yawned, the National-Liberals yawned, the Centre yawned,--for they +were still being faced by the 'Kultur-Kampf.' + +Following immediately on this 'Polish question' the Chamber proceeded +to the order of the day. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in prison, or rather, he lay in the prison +infirmary, for the blow from the stone had re-opened the wound which +he had received in the war. + +When not feverish, he thought and thought, like the turkeycock that +died of thinking. But Bartek did not die, he merely did not arrive at +any conclusion. + +Now and then, however, during moments, which Science names 'lucida +intervalla,' it occurred to him that he had perhaps exerted himself +unnecessarily in 'doing for' the French. + +Difficult times followed for Magda. The fine had to be paid, and +there was nothing with which to pay it. The priest at Pognebin offered +to help, but it turned out that there were not quite forty marks in +his money box. The parish of Pognebin was poor; besides, the good old +man never knew how his money went. Count Jarzynski was not at home. It +was said that he had gone love-making to some rich lady in Prussia. + +Magda did not know where to turn. + +An extension of the loan was not to be thought of. What else, then? +Should she sell the horse or the cows? Meanwhile Winter passed into +Spring, the hardest time of all. It would soon be harvest, when she +would need money for extra labour, and even now it was all exhausted. +The woman wrung her hands in despair. She sent a petition to the +Magistrate, recalling Bartek's services; she never even received an +answer. The time for repayment of the loan was drawing near, and the +sequestration with it. + +She prayed and prayed, remembering bitterly the time when they were +well off, and when Bartek used to earn money at the factory in winter. +She tried to borrow money from her neighbours; they had none. The war +had made itself felt all round. She did not dare to go to Just, +because she was in his debt already, and had not even paid the +interest. However, Just unexpectedly came to see her himself. + +One afternoon she was sitting in the cottage doorway doing nothing, +for despair had drained her strength. She was gazing before her at two +golden butterflies chasing one another in the air, and thinking 'how +happy those creatures are, they live for themselves and needn't +pay'--and so on. After a while she sighed heavily, and a low cry broke +from her pale lips: 'Oh God! God!' Suddenly at the gate appeared +Just's long nose, and his long pipe beneath it. The woman turned pale. +Just addressed her:-- + +'Morgen!' + +'How are you, Herr Just?' + +'What about my money?' + +'Oh, my dear Herr Just, have pity! I am very poor, and what am I to +do? They have taken my man away,--I have to pay the fine for him,--and +I don't know where to turn. It would be better to die than to be +worried like this from day to day. Do wait a while longer, dear Herr +Just!' + +She burst out crying, and seizing Herr Just's fat, red hand, she +kissed it humbly. 'The Count will be back soon, then I will borrow +from him, and give it back to you.' + +'Well, and how will you repay the fine?' + +'How can I tell?--I might sell the cow.' + +'Then I will lend you some more.' + +'May God Almighty repay you, my dear Sir! Although you are a Lutheran, +you are a good man. I speak the truth! If only other Germans were +like you, Sir, one might bless them.' + +'But I don't lend money without interest.' + +'I know, I know.' + +'Then write me one receipt for it all.' + +'You are a kind gentleman, may God repay you too in the same way.' + +'We will draw up the bill when I go into the town.' + +He went into the town and drew up the bill, but Magda had gone to the +priest for advice beforehand. Yet what could he advise? The priest +said he was very sorry for her; the time given for repayment was +short, the interest was high, Count Jarzynski was not at home; had he +been, he might have helped. Magda, however, could not wait until the +team was sold, and she was obliged to accept Just's terms. She +contracted a debt of three hundred marks, that is, twice the amount of +the fine, for it was certainly necessary to have a few pence in the +house to carry on the housekeeping. On account of the importance of +the document, Bartek was obliged to sign it, and for this reason Magda +went to see him in prison. The conqueror was very depressed, dejected, +and ill. He had wished to forward a petition, setting forth his +grievances, but petitions were not accepted;--opinion in +Administrative circles had turned against him since the Articles in +the _Posener Zeitung_. For were not these very Authorities bound to +afford protection to the peaceful German population, who, during the +recent war, had given so many proofs of devotion and sacrifice to the +Fatherland? They were therefore obliged in fairness to reject Bartek's +petition. But it is not surprising that this should have depressed him +at last. + +'We are done for all round,' he said to his wife. + +'All round,' she repeated. + +Bartek began to ruminate deeply on the circumstances. + +'It's a cruel injustice to me,' he said. + +'That man Boege persecutes one,' Magda replied. 'I went to implore +him, and he called me names too. Ah! the Germans have the upper hand +now at Pognebin. They aren't afraid of anyone.' + +'Of course, for they are the strongest,' Bartek said sadly. + +'As I am a plain woman, I tell you God is the strongest.' + +'In Him is our refuge,' added Bartek. + +They were both silent a moment, then he asked again:-- + +'Well, and what of Just?' + +'If the Lord Almighty gives us a crop, then perhaps we shall be able +to repay him. Possibly too the Count will help us, although he +himself has debts with the German. They said even before the war that +he would have to sell Pognebin. Let us hope that he will bring home a +rich wife.' + +'But will he be back soon?' + +'Who knows? They say at the house that he will soon be coming with his +wife. And directly he is back the Germans will be upon him. It's +always those Germans! They are as plentiful as worms! Wherever one +looks, whichever way one turns, whether in the village or the +town--Germans for our sins! But where are we to get help from?' + +'Perhaps you can decide on something, for you are a clever woman.' + +'What can I advise? Should I have borrowed money from Just if I could +have helped it? I did it for a good reason, but now the cottage in +which we are settled, and the land also are already his. Just is +better than other Germans, but he too has an eye to his own profit, +not other people's. He won't be lenient to us any more than he has +been lenient to others. I am not so stupid as not to know why he +sticks his money in here! But what is one to do, what is one to do?' +she cried, wringing her hands. 'Give some advice yourself, if you are +clever. You can beat the French, but what will you do without a roof +over your head, or a crust to eat?' + +The victor of Gravelotte bent his head. 'Oh Jesu! Jesu!' + +Magda had a kind heart; Bartek's grief touched her, so she said +quickly:-- + +'Never mind, dear boy, never mind. Don't worry as long as you are not +yet well. The rye is so fine, it's bending to the ground; the wheat +the same. The ground doesn't belong to the Germans; it's as good as +ever it was. The fields were in a bad state before your quarrel, but +now they are growing so well, you'll see!' + +Magda began to smile through her tears. + +'The ground doesn't belong to the Germans,' she repeated once more. + +'Magda!' Bartek said, looking at her with wide-open eyes, 'Magda!' + +'What?' + +'But,--because you are ... if....' + +Bartek felt deep gratitude towards her, but he could not express it. + + +CHAPTER IX + +In truth Magda was worth more than ten other women put together. Her +manner towards Bartek was rather curt, but she was really attached to +him. In moments of excitement, as, for example, in the prison, she +told him to his face that he was stupid; nevertheless, before other +people she would generally exclaim:--'My Bartek pretends to be stupid, +but that's his slyness.' She used frequently to say this. As a matter +of fact, Bartek was about as cunning as his horse, and without Magda +he would have been unable to manage either his holding or anything +else. Now, when everything rested on her honest shoulders, she left no +stone unturned, running hither and thither to beg for help. A week +after her last visit to the prison infirmary she ran in again to see +Bartek, breathless, beaming, and happy. + +'My word, Bartek, how are you?' she exclaimed gleefully. 'Do you know +the Count has arrived! He was married in Prussia; the young lady is a +beauty! But he has done well for himself all round in getting her; +fancy,--just fancy!' + +The owner of Pognebin had really been married and come home with his +wife, and had actually done very well by himself all round in finding +her. + +'Well, and what of that?' enquired Bartek. + +'Be quiet, Blockhead,' Magda replied. 'Oh! how out of breath I am! Oh +Jesu! I went to pay my respects to the lady. I looked at her: she came +out to meet me like a queen, as young and charming as a flower, and as +beautiful as the dawn!--Oh dear, how out of breath I am!--' + +Magda took her handkerchief, and began to wipe the perspiration from +her face. The next instant she started talking again in a gasping +voice:-- + +'She had a blue dress like that blue-bottle. I fell at her feet, and +she gave me her hand;--I kissed it,--and her hands are as sweet and +tiny as a child's. She is just like a saint in a picture, and she is +good, and feels for poor people. I began to beg her for help.--May God +give her health!--And she said, "I will do," she said, "whatever lies +in my power." And she has such a pretty little voice that when she +speaks one does feel pleased. So then I began to tell her that there +are unhappy people in Pognebin, and she said, "Not only in Pognebin," +and then I burst into tears, and she too. And then the Count came in, +and he saw that she was crying, so he would have liked to take her and +give her a little kiss. Gentlefolk aren't like us! Then she said to +him, "Do what you can for this woman." And he said, "Anything in the +world, whatever you wish."--May the Mother of God bless her, that +lovely creature, may She bless her with children and with health!--The +Count said at once: "You must be heavily in debt, if you have fallen +into the hands of the Germans, but," he said, "I will help you, and +also against Just."' + +Bartek began to scratch his neck. + +'But the Germans have got hold of him too.' + +'What of that? His wife is rich. They could buy all the Germans in +Pognebin now, so it was easy for him to talk like that. "The +election," he said, "is coming on before long, and people had better +take care not to vote for Germans; but I will make short work of Just +and Boege." And the lady put her arm round his neck,--and the Count +asked after you, and said, "if he is ill, I will speak to the doctor +about giving him a certificate to show that he is unfit to be +imprisoned now. If they don't let him off altogether," he said, "he +will be imprisoned in the winter, but he is needed now for working the +crops." Do you hear? The Count was in the town yesterday, and invited +the doctor to come on a visit to Pognebin to-day. He's not a German. +He'll write the certificate. In the winter you'll sit in prison like +a king, you'll be warm, and they'll give you meat to eat; and now you +are going home to work, and Just will be repaid, and possibly the +Count won't want any interest, and if we can't give it all back in the +Autumn, I'll beg it from the lady. May the Mother of God bless her.... +Do you hear?' + +'She is a good lady. There are not many such!' Bartek said at once. + +'You must fall at her feet, I tell you,--but no, for then that lovely +head would bend to you! If only God grants us a crop. And do you see +where the help has come from? Was it from the Germans? Did they give a +single penny for your stupid head? Well, they gave you as much as it +was worth! Fall at the lady's feet, I say!' + +'I can't do otherwise,' Bartek replied resolutely. + +Fortune seemed to smile on the conqueror once more. He was informed +some days later that for reasons of health he would be released from +prison until the winter. He was ordered to appear before the +Magistrate. The man who, bayonet in hand, had seized flags and guns, +now began to fear a uniform more than death. A deep, unconscious +feeling was growing in his mind that he was being persecuted, that +they could do as they liked with him, and that there was some mighty, +yet malevolent and evil power above him, which, if he resisted, would +crush him. So there he stood before the Magistrate, as formerly before +Steinmetz, upright, his body drawn in, his chest thrown forward, not +daring to breathe. There were some officers present also: they +represented war and the military prison to Bartek. The officers looked +at him through their gold eye-glasses with the pride and disdain +befitting Prussian officers towards a private soldier and Polish +peasant. He stood holding his breath, and the Magistrate said +something in a commanding tone. He did not ask or persuade, he +commanded and threatened. A Member had died in Berlin, and the writs +for a fresh election had been issued. + +'You Polish dog, just you dare to vote for Count Jarzynski, just you +dare!' + +At this the officers knitted their brows into threatening leonine +wrinkles. One, lighting his cigar, repeated after the Magistrate 'Just +you dare!' and Bartek the Conqueror's heart died within him. When he +heard the order given, 'Go!' he made a half turn to the left, went out +and took breath. They told him to vote for Herr Schulberg of Great +Krzywda; he paid no attention to the command, but took a deep breath. +For he was going to Pognebin, he could be at home during harvest time, +the Count had promised to pay Just. He walked out of the town; the +ripening cornfields surrounded him on every side, the heavy blades +hurtling one another in the wind, and murmuring with a sound dear to +the peasant's ear. Bartek was still weak, but the sun warmed him. 'Ah! +how beautiful the world is!' this worn-out soldier thought. + +It was not much further to Pognebin. + + +CHAPTER X + +'The Election! The Election!' + +Countess Marya Jarzynski's head was full of it, and she thought, +talked and dreamt of nothing else. + +'You are a great politician,' an aristocratic neighbour said to her, +kissing her small hands in a snake-like way. But the 'great +politician' blushed like a cherry, and answered with a beautiful +smile:-- + +'Oh, we only do what we can!' + +'Count Jzef will be elected,' the nobleman said with conviction, and +the 'great politician' answered:-- + +'I should wish it very much, though not alone for Jzef's sake, but' +(here the 'great politician' dropped her imprudent hands again), 'for +the common cause...' + +'By God! Bismarck is in the right!' cried the nobleman, kissing the +tiny hands once more. After which they proceeded to discuss the +canvassing. The nobleman himself undertook Krzywda Dolna and Mizerw, +(Great Krzywda was lost, for Herr Schulberg owned all the property +there), and Countess Marya was to occupy herself specially with +Pognebin. She was all aglow with the _rle_ she was to fill, and she +certainly lost no time. She was daily to be seen at the cottages on +the main road, holding her skirt with one hand, her parasol with the +other, while from under her skirt peeped her tiny feet, tripping +enthusiastically in the great political cause. She went into the +cottages, she said to the people working on the road, 'The Lord help +you!' She visited the sick, made herself agreeable to the people, and +helped where she could. She would have done the same without politics, +for she had a kind heart, but she did it all the more on this account. +Why should not she also contribute her share to the political cause? +But she did not dare confess to her husband that she had an +irresistible desire to attend the village meeting. In imagination she +had even planned the speech she would make at the meeting. And what a +speech it would be! What a speech! True, she would certainly never +dare to make it, but if she dared--why then! Consequently when the +news reached Pognebin that the Authorities had prohibited the meeting, +the 'great politician' burst into a fit of anger, tore one +handkerchief up completely, and had red eyes all day. In vain her +husband begged her not to 'demean' herself to such a degree; next day +the canvassing was carried on with still greater fervour. Nothing +stopped Countess Marya now. She visited thirteen cottages in one day, +and talked so loudly against the Germans that her husband was obliged +to check her. But there was no danger. The people welcomed her gladly, +they kissed her hands and smiled at her, for she was so pretty and her +cheeks were so rosy that wherever she went she brought brightness with +her. Thus she came to Bartek's cottage also. Although Lysek did not +bark at her, Magda in her excitement hit him on the head with a stick. + +'Oh lady, my beautiful lady, my dear lady!' cried Magda, seizing her +hands. + +In accordance with his resolve, Bartek threw himself at her feet, +while little Franek first kissed her hand, then stuck his thumb into +his mouth and lost himself in whole-hearted admiration. + +'I hope'--the young lady said after the first greetings were over,--'I +hope, my friend Bartek, that you will vote for my husband, and not for +Herr Schulberg.' + +'Oh my dear lady!' Magda exclaimed, 'who would vote for +Schulberg?--Give him the ten plagues! The lady must excuse me, but +when one gets talking about the Germans, one can't help what one +says.' + +'My husband has just told me that he has repaid Just.' + +'May God bless him!' Here Magda turned to Bartek. 'Why do you stand +there like a post? I must beg the lady's pardon, but he's wonderfully +dumb.' + +'You will vote for my husband, won't you?' the lady asked. 'You are +Poles, and we are Poles, so we will hold to one another.' + +'I should throttle him if he didn't vote for him,' Magda said. 'Why do +you stand there like a post? He's wonderfully dumb. Bestir yourself a +bit!' + +Bartek again kissed the lady's hand, but he remained silent, and +looked as black as night. The Magistrate was in his mind. + +The day of the Election drew near, and arrived. Count Jarzynski was +certain of victory. All the neighbourhood assembled at Pognebin. After +voting the gentlemen returned there from the town to wait for the +priest, who was to bring the news. Afterwards there was to be a +dinner, but in the evening the noble couple were going to Posen, and +subsequently to Berlin also. Several villages in the Electoral +Division had already polled the day beforehand. The result would be +made known on this day. The company was in a cheerful frame of mind. +The young lady was slightly nervous, yet full of hope and smiles, and +made such a charming hostess that everyone agreed Count Jzef had +found a real treasure in Prussia. This treasure was quite unable at +present to keep quiet in one place, and ran from guest to guest, +asking each for the hundredth time to assure her that 'Jzio would be +elected.' She was not actually ambitious, and it was not out of vanity +that she wished to be the wife of a Member, but she was dreaming in +her young mind that she and her husband together had a real mission to +accomplish. So her heart beat as quickly as at the moment of her +wedding, and her pretty little face was lighted up with joy. Skilfully +manoeuvering amidst her guests, she approached her husband, drew him +by the hand, and whispered in his ear, like a child, nicknaming +someone, 'The Hon. Member!' He smiled, and both were happy at the most +trifling word. They both felt a great wish to give one another a warm +embrace, but owing to the presence of their guests, this could not be. +Everyone, however, was looking out of the window every moment, for the +question was a really important one. The former Member, who had died, +was a Pole, and this was the first time in this Division that the +Germans had put up a candidate of their own. Their military success +had evidently given them courage, but just for that reason it the more +concerned those assembled at the manor house at Pognebin to secure the +election of their candidate. Before dinner there was no lack of +patriotic speeches, which especially moved the young hostess who was +unaccustomed to them. Now and then she suffered an access of fear. +Supposing there should be a mistake in counting the votes? But there +would surely not only be Germans serving on the Committee! The +principal landowners would simply flock to her husband, so that it +would be possible to dispense with counting the votes. She had heard +this a hundred times, but she still wished to hear it! Ah! and would +it not make all the difference whether the local population had an +enemy in Parliament, or someone to champion their cause? It would soon +be decided,--in a short moment, in fact,--for a cloud of dust was +rising from the road. + +'The priest is coming! The priest is coming!' reiterated those +present. The lady grew pale. Excitement was visible on every face. +They were certain of victory, all the same this final moment made +their hearts beat more rapidly. But it was not the priest, it was the +steward returning from the town on horseback. Perhaps he might know +something? He tied his horse to the gate post, and hurried to the +house. The guests and the hostess rushed into the hall. + +'Is there any news?--Is there any? Has our friend been +elected?--What?--Come here!--Do you know for certain?--Has the result +been declared?' + +The questions rose and fell like rockets, but the man threw his cap +into the air. + +'The Count is elected!' + +The lady sat down on a bench abruptly, and pressed her hand to her +fast beating heart. + +'Hurrah! Hurrah!' the neighbours shouted, 'Hurrah!' + +The servants rushed out from the kitchen. + +'Hurrah! Down with the Germans! Long live the Member! And my lady the +Member's wife!' + +'But the priest?' someone asked. + +'He will be here directly;' the steward answered, 'they are still +counting....' + +'Let us have dinner!' the Hon. Member cried. + +'Hurrah!' several people repeated. + +They all walked back again from the hall to the drawing room. +Congratulations to the host and hostess were now offered more calmly; +the lady herself, however, did not know how to restrain her joy, and +disregarding the presence of others, threw her arm round her husband's +neck. But they thought none the worse of her for this; on the +contrary, they were all much touched. + +'Well, we still survive!' the neighbour from Mizerw said. + +At this moment there was a clatter along the corridor, and the priest +entered the drawing room, followed by old Maciej, of Pognebin. + +'Welcome! Welcome!' they all cried. 'Well,--how great?' + +The priest was silent a moment; then as it were into the very face of +this universal joy he suddenly hurled the two harsh, brief words: + +'Schulberg--elected!' + +A moment of astonishment followed, a volley of hurried and anxious +questions, to which the priest again replied: + +'Schulberg is elected!' + +'How?--What has happened?--By what means?--The steward said it was not +so.--What has happened?' + +Meanwhile Count Jarzynski was leading poor Countess Marya out of the +room, who was biting her hankerchief, not to burst into tears or to +faint. + +'Oh what a misfortune, what a misfortune!' the assembled guests +repeated, striking their foreheads. + +A dull sound like people shouting for joy rose at that moment from the +direction of the village. The Germans of Pognebin were thus gleefully +celebrating their victory. + +Count and Countess Jarzynski returned to the drawing room. He could be +heard saying to his wife at the door, 'Il faut faire bonne mine,' and +she had stopped crying already. Her eyes were dry and very red. + +'Will you tell us how it was?' the host asked quietly. + +'How could it be otherwise, Sir,' old Maciej said, 'seeing that even +the Pognebin peasants voted for Schulberg?' + +'Who did so?' + +'What? Those here?' + +'Why, yes; I myself and everyone saw Bartek Slowik vote for +Schulberg.' + +'Bartek Slowik?' the lady said. + +'Why, yes. The others are at him now for it. The man is rolling on the +ground, howling, and his wife is scolding him. But I myself saw how he +voted.' + +'From such an enlightened village!' the neighbour from Mizerw said. + +'You see, Sir,' Maciej said, 'others who were in the war also voted as +he did. They say that they were ordered--' + +'That's cheating, pure cheating!--The election is +void--Compulsion!--Swindling!' cried different voices. + +The dinner at the Pognebin manor house was not cheerful that day. + +The host and hostess left in the evening, but not as yet for Berlin, +only for Dresden. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in his cottage, miserable, sworn at, ill-treated +and hated, a stranger even to his own wife, for even she had not +spoken a word to him all day. + +In the autumn God granted a crop, and Herr Just, who had just come +into possession of Bartek's farm, felt pleased, for he had not done at +all a bad stroke of business. + +Some months later three people walked out of Pognebin to the town, a +peasant, his wife, and child. The peasant was very bent, more like an +old man than an able-bodied one. They were going to the town because +they could not find work at Pognebin. It was raining. The woman was +sobbing bitterly at losing her cottage, and her native place. The +peasant was silent. The road was empty, there was not a carriage, not +a human being to be seen; the cross alone, wet from the rain, +stretched its arms above them.--The rain fell more and more heavily, +dimming the light. + +Bartek, Magda and Franek were going to the town because the victor of +Gravelotte and Sedan had to serve his term of imprisonment during the +winter, on account of the affair with Boege. + +Count and Countess Jarzynski continued to enjoy themselves in Dresden. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Nightingale. + +[2] 'Czlowiek' and 'Slowik.' + +[3] 'Czlowiek' (man). + +[4] A popular song. Skrzynecki was a well-known leader in the Polish +Revolution of 1863. + +[5] 'They are going.' 'Jadom' and 'jada' are pronounced similarly. + +[6] 'Macki' = 'Tommies.' + +[7] Polish 'picie' = a drink. + +[8] Polish e = French _in_. + + + + +TWILIGHT + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI + + +The sun was gliding into a lustrous copper haze, drawn in wide +streaks, like transparent dust, across the distant scene. It sank +behind some thick red firs left standing at the edge of a clearing and +behind the dark trunks which lay rotting on the hillside. Its beams +still lighted the corners of a cottage, gilding it and colouring it +scarlet; they penetrated the folds of grey clouds, and glittered on +the water. + +A recent storm had laid the marshy plains and newly cultivated +woodlands partly under water. Here and on the furrows of the +stubble-fields and the fresh autumn ploughing the puddles turned red +and their irridescent surface became like molten glass, while +entrancing violet shadows, dazzling to the sight, fell on the grey, +beaten-down clods; the sand hills turned yellow; the weeds growing on +the banks, the bushes at the edge of the field paths, all borrowed +some unwonted momentary colour. + +In a deep hollow surrounded by sparsely wooded hills to the east, west +and south ran a little brook, which overflowed into bays, swamps, +shallows and creeks. Tangles of reeds grew at the water's edge, lank +bulrushes, sweet-flags, and clumps of willows. The still, red water +was now shining in formless pale-green patches from under the large +leaves of the water-lilies and coarse water-weeds. + +A flight of teals was hovering above with outstretched necks, and +broke in upon the silence with the swish of their wings. Otherwise +everything was still. Even the glassy blue dragon-flies, which had +been hovering ceaselessly on their gossamer wings round the stems of +the bulrushes, had disappeared. The untiring water-flies alone yet +strayed over the illuminated surface of the swamps on their stilt-like +legs.... And there were two human beings at work. + +The marshes belonged to the manor house. Formerly the young owner, +accompanied by his spaniel, had floundered through them, shooting +ducks and snipe, which were to be found there before he cut down all +the woods. He left quite half of the land uncultivated, and having +very quickly run through his property, he found no means of supporting +himself until he went to Warsaw, where he was now selling soda-water +at a stall. + +When a new and prudent owner appeared, he inspected the fields, stick +in hand, and frequently stood still on the marshes, rubbing his nose. + +He fumbled with his hands in the swamp, dug holes, measured, +sniffed,--till he invented a strange thing. He ordered the bailiff to +hire labourers daily to dig peat, to heap barrow-loads of the mud on +to the fields, and to go on digging a hole until it was large enough +for a pond. He was to make a dyke, and to choose a lower position for +a second pond, till there were some thirteen in all; then to cut +trenches; to let the water down, build water-gates, and set fish in +the ponds. + +Walek Gibala, a day labourer without any land of his own, who was +working for wages in the neighbouring village, was hired to cart away +the peat. Gibala had been groom to the former landlord, but had not +stayed on with the new one. In the first place, the new landlord and +the new steward had lowered the wages and allowances, and, in the +second place, they made an enquiry into everything that was stolen. In +the time of the former landlord each groom used half a bushel of oats +for a pair of horses, and took the rest in the evening to the 'Berlin' +Inn, in exchange for tobacco or a drop of brandy. However, this +business had come to an end at once when the new steward appeared, and +since he justly laid the blame of it on Walek, he had boxed his ears, +and dismissed him from his service. + +So from that time Walek and his wife had lived on their daily +earnings in the village, because he could not find a situation; he was +not likely even to apply for one, so thoroughly had the steward taken +his character away. At harvest time they both earned something here +and there from the peasants, but in winter and early spring they +suffered terribly,--indescribably, from hunger. Large and bony, with +iron muscles, the man was as thin as a board, with an ashen look, +round-shouldered and weakened by privation. The woman--like a +woman--supported herself by her neighbours; she sold mushrooms, +raspberries and strawberries to the manor house, or to the Jews, and +at least thus earned a loaf of wheat-bread. But, without food, she was +no match for the man at threshing. When the bailiff gave the order for +digging in the meadows, the eyes of both sparkled. The steward himself +promised thirty kopeks for digging two cubic yards. + +Walek kept his wife occupied with the digging every day and all day. +She loaded the wheelbarrow, and he wheeled the mud on to the field +along planks thrown across the swamp. They worked feverishly. They had +two large, deep wheelbarrows, and before Walek had brought back the +empty one, the second was already full; then he threw the strap round +his shoulder and pushed the barrow up the hill. The iron wheel creaked +horribly. The liquid, dark, rank slime, thick with marsh-weeds, +overflowed and trickled down on to the man's bare knees, as the +wheelbarrows were tilted from plank to plank; it penetrated to his +neck and shoulders, marking his shirt with a dark, evil-smelling +streak. His arms ached at the elbows, his feet were painful and stiff +from being continually plunged into the mud, but--with a hard day's +work, they dug out four cubic yards:--and he knew that he had sixty +kopeks in his pocket. + +They were hopeful, for they had earned thirty roubles by the end of +the autumn. They paid their rent, bought a cask of pickled cabbage, +five bushels of potatoes, a 'sukmana,'[9] boots, some aprons and +homespun for the woman, and linen for shirts. Thus they could last +till the spring, when they would be able to earn by threshing and +weaving at other people's houses. + +All of a sudden the steward considered it excessive to give thirty +kopeks for two cubic yards. It struck him that no one would be tempted +to patter about in a swamp from daybreak to nightfall unless on the +verge of starvation, and these people had undertaken it without +hesitation. 'Twenty kopeks is enough,' he said, 'if not,--well, go +without.' + +There was nothing to be earned at this time of year, and the manor +house had enough of its own people to attend to the threshing and +machinery;--it was no use being fastidious in the matter. After this +announcement Walek went to the inn, and made a beast of himself. Next +day he beat his wife, and dragged her out to work for him. + +From that time forward--beginning when it grew light--they dug out the +four cubic yards, never stopping work from daybreak until night. + +And now, indeed, night was drawing on from afar. The distant +light-blue woods were growing dark, and melting into grey gloom. The +radiance on the waters was extinguished. Immense shadows from the red +firs standing towards the north fell on the summits of the hills, and +along the clearings. The tree trunks alone remained crimson here and +there, and then the stones. Small, fugitive rays were reflected from +these points of light, and, falling into the deep wastes created among +objects by the half-darkness, were refracted, quivered for an instant, +and went out in turn. The trees and bushes lost their convexity and +brilliance, their natural colours mingled with the grey distance, and +they appeared only as flat and completely black forms with weird +contours. + +A thick mist was already gathering in the low-lying country, chilling +the man through as he worked. The darkness was coming on in unseen +waves, creeping along the slopes of the hills, gathering to itself the +dreary colours of the stubble-fields, the water-courses, the clefts +in the hills, and the rocks. + +As the waves of mist met, others--white, transparent, and scarcely +visible--which rose from the marshes, crept along in streaks, winding +in balls round the undergrowth, trembling and curling over the surface +of the water. The cold, damp wind drove the mist along the bottom of +the valley, till it was stretched out flat like a face on the canvas +of a picture. + +'The mist is coming on,' Walkowa murmured. It was that moment of +twilight, when every form seems to be visibly reducing itself to dust +and nothingness, when a grey emptiness spreads over the surface of the +earth, looks into the eyes, and oppresses the heart with unconscious +sorrow. Terror seized Walkowa. Her hair stood on end, and a shudder +passed through her body. The mists rose like a living thing, +stealthily crawling over towards her; they came up from behind, +retreated, lay in wait, and again crept forward in more impetuous +pursuit. Her hands were clammy with the damp, it soaked through her +skin to the bone, it irritated her throat, and tickled her chest. Then +she remembered her child, whom she had not seen since noon. He was +lying asleep,--locked up in a room quite alone,--in a cradle of lime +wood, suspended from the beams of the ceiling by birch-twigs. Surely +he was crying now,--choking,--sobbing? The mother heard that cry, as +wailing and pitiful as that of a solitary bird in a desert place. It +rang in her ears, it tormented a particular spot in her brain, it tore +at her heart. She had not thought about him all day, for her hard work +had scattered all her thoughts, in fact, it had drained and +annihilated her power of thinking; but now the uncanny sensations +caused by the twilight compelled her to concentrate herself and fasten +her mind upon this small morsel of humanity. + +'Walek' she said timidly, when the man brought up the barrow, 'shall I +be off to the cottage and finish scraping the potatoes?' + +Gibala did not answer, as though he had not heard. He seized the +barrow and set forth. When he returned, the woman implored again: +'Walek, shall I be off?' + +'Eh?' he grumbled carelessly. + +She knew what his anger meant; she knew that he could catch a man +under the ribs, gather up his skin in handfuls, and, having shaken him +once or twice, throw him down like a stone among the rushes. She knew +he was capable of tearing the handkerchief from her head, twisting her +hair in a knot round his fist and dragging her in terror along the +road; or, in a fit of absent-mindedness, of pulling his spade out of +the swamp quickly, and cutting her across the head without +considering--whether it had hit, or not hit her. + +But impatient anxiety, kindled to the point of pain, rose above the +fear of punishment. At moments the woman thought of running away; it +only meant creeping into the little ravine, leaping across the +brooklet, and then making straight through the fields and plantations. +As she stooped and filled her barrow, she was already escaping in +thought, leaping like a marten, scarcely feeling the pain of running +barefoot across the stubble, overgrown with thick blackthorn and +blackberries. The sharp clods would sting not only her feet but her +heart. She would come running to the cottage, and open the bolt with +the wooden key; the warmth and close air of the room would meet her +face; she would clasp the cradle ... Walek would kill her when he +returned to the cottage,--beat her to death:--but what then? That +would be for later.... + +As soon, however, as Walek emerged from the mist, she was seized +afresh by a dread of his fists. Again she humbly begged him, although +she knew that her tormentor would not set her free: + +'Perhaps the baby is dead in there.' + +He answered nothing, threw down the strap of the barrow from his +shoulder, approached his wife, and, by a movement of the head, +pointed to the stakes up to which they must dig that day. Then he +seized the spade, and began to throw mud into his barrow, time after +time. He worked without thinking, quickly,--as fast as he could +breathe. When he had filled the barrow he pushed it forward, running +at top speed, and said as he left: + +'Push yours too, you lazy brute....' + +She took this mild concession to the object of her love, this brutal +goodness, this hardness and severity as if it had been a caress. For +it would be possible to finish the work far sooner if they both +wheeled the mud. Rapidly and impetuously she now imitated his +movements, like a monkey, and shovelled up the mud four times more +quickly, no longer drawing on her muscular peasant's strength, but on +her nervous power. Her chest rattled, dazzling colours passed under +her eyelids, she felt faint, and large burning tears fell from her +eyes into that cold, evil-smelling filth,--tears of unheeded pain. +Every time she struck the spade into the ground she looked to see if +it was still far to the stakes; her barrow ready, she seized it, and +ran at full tilt after the man. + +The mists rose high; they drew past the rushes and stood over the tops +of the alders in an unmoving wall. The trees loomed through them as +patches of indefinite colour, astonishingly large, but imperfect +forms, which ran across the deep gorge like monstrous, terrible +apparitions. + +Their heads fell forward; their hands executed a uniform movement; +their bodies were bowed to the ground.... + +The wheels of the barrows clattered and whined. Waves of mist like +milk when poured into water, swayed amid the darkening hills. + +The evening star shone low in the sky, and tremblingly threw its +feeble light across the darkness. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Peasant's dress. + + + + +TEMPTATION + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI + + +Countess Anna Krzywosad--Naslawska's youngest son had decided to take +Holy Orders. From boyhood he had shown an unusual fondness for prayer, +had been silent and obedient, and worn an earnest, pious expression. +He had been educated in Rome under the eye of a distant cousin--a +Cardinal--and completed his course at the seminary there with +distinction, when barely twenty. Having not yet attained the proper +age to hold any spiritual office, he went back to his own country for +the first time for many years, and stayed at his mother's house. + +He occupied a corner room in the mansion, as cold and damp as any +monastic cell; he slept on the ground, fasted unceasingly, read Latin +books, very probably scourged himself at nights, and wore a hair shirt +under his shabby cassock. He was unspeakably good and gentle, forgave +injuries, and was over-modest. + +When he sat down, it was on the very edge of the chair, as if anxious +that when he rose quickly his cassock should hinder him and make him +move like a priest; he walked on tiptoe as if a mystic heel protected +him from the dust of the earth; he shunned society, he murmured a +prayer at the sight of a village girl. + +Every day at dawn he left the house, and went into the fields. He felt +that there he could be in closest communication with his Creator, +there ecstatic visions came to him most clearly. He followed the +beaten track through numberless rye-fields to the upland, where a +half-ruined little chapel lay hidden in the shade of the pine forest. + +One morning he went there as usual. The landscape was still buried in +the night-mist, but a violet streak of daybreak had begun to spread on +the horizon. The bearded rye brushed against his knees and scattered +large dewdrops, yet the pathway was not damp, being sheltered by the +full drooping ears. The corn, feebly illumined by the early morning +light, rose in great waves along the hill, where the undulating line +of the fields showed against the wood. The scent of earth and ripening +corn hung on the breeze, bringing a sense of health, strength, and +youth. From the dark gloom of the huge trees, whose tops were +beginning to break up the expanse of dawning blue, came the keen, damp +breath of the forest. The seminarist walked along slowly and lazily, +passing his hand over the surface of the rye. Sky larks and crested +larks rose at his feet, and dropped again like stones into the +thickly-growing corn. + +The dawn was now tinging the horizon with a rosy light; it burst forth +like a wide flash of lightning, illuminating the rifts and curves in +the dark clouds which lay idly over the wood. Unexpectedly hundreds of +red firs, crowning the summit of the hill, emerged tall and grand from +the night, their boughs standing out prominently against the +transparent background of blue, as if stretching out their arms to the +approaching sun. + +Suddenly a thrill passed through the earth. The next moment a puff of +wind, the forerunner of daybreak, stirred the boughs of the firs, and +announced alike to plant, to grass, and corn--the coming of the sun. + +It seemed as if the earth were quivering, as if her heart began to +beat. Then the wind spread its wings, and hovered over the scented +trunks, over the osiers and corn in the distance. A long, soothing +moment of death-like silence followed, and then that mysterious moment +of early dawn, when each living plant glows in its every part as if on +fire. + +The student walked with his face turned eastwards. Words of prayer +rose from his heart to his lips as the sap rises to the bark of the +pines when Spring comes. He went up to the little chapel, opened the +grey wooden door, studded with nails, and fell on his face with +outstretched hands before the picture of Christ, clumsily drawn by a +rustic hand. + +He felt as if his soul had fled from earth to the very Throne of God. +The scales had fallen from his eyes in a moment: he was gazing on the +face of the Eternal. + +All at once a rough, coarse peasant's song was heard: + + 'It was then that I liked you best, Hanka, + When you bleached yourself in the fields, in the fields, + like a gosling.' + +This was answered by a woman's voice, approaching from a distance: + + 'I did not bleach myself, I bleached a linen shirt, + But you, Kaska, thought that I was painted.' + +The young man rose from the ground, and stood at the door of the +chapel. He saw a sturdy farmer's lad in shirt sleeves, bare-foot, in a +straw hat, and loaded like a horse, with juniper wood. This strapping +fellow was taking up a kilo of roots--digging out bushes with the +clods, and moistening his hands in the branches. A girl was going +along the path, carrying a load of weeds on her back. The corners of +her petticoat were turned up and tucked into her belt, her broad +shoulders were bent together under the heavy burden, only her head, +tied round with a red handkerchief, was raised towards the hill where +the lad was working. When she reached the turn of the path, he stopped +her, pulled down the hem of her skirt from her waist, and laid her +bundle on the ground. She pushed him away with her hands, laughing. + +The student shaded his eyes with his hand, but dropped it again the +next minute, as the sound of the two singing a fresh song echoed +through the glade. It was strange music. The wood, like a tuned +string, seemed to quiver in harmony with the sound of those two +voices: + + 'In the garden is a cherry tree, + In the orchard there are two; + I have loved you, Hanus, since you were small, + Nobody else but you.' + +They went down into the hollow through the corn, which reached up to +their heads, bent towards one another. Those two heads stood out in +sharp relief against the dark rye, while the giant, brazen shield of +the sun was rising over the ridge. They walked thus for a long time, +never completely hidden by the corn. + +Tears flowed from under the young man's closed eyes, and he clenched +his hands convulsively. Words unknown to him, words known as longing +and the desire for love, forced themselves unnoticed to his lips. + +In a vision he saw moist eyes and a girl's long braided hair rising +and sinking in some sea cavern. An unknown force, inexpressibly sweet, +a force which could be neither expelled nor conquered, rose within +him, carrying him far away into space. His soul threw off its fetters, +and rushed forth in its wild freedom, as a colt starts for a mad +gallop.... + + + + +SRUL--FROM LUBARTW + +ADAM SZYMANSKI + + +I + +It happened in the year,...; but no matter what year. Suffice it to +say that it happened, and that it happened at Yakutsk in the beginning +of November, about a month after my arrival at that citadel of frosts. +The thermometer was down to 35 degrees Ramur. I was therefore +thinking anxiously of the coming fate of my nose and ears, which, +fresh from the West, had been making silent but perceptible protests +against their compulsory acclimatization, and to-day were to be +submitted to yet further trials. These latest trials were due to the +fact that one of the men in our colony, Peter Kurp, nicknamed +Baldyga,[10] had died in the local hospital two days before, and early +that morning we were going to do him a last service, by laying his +wasted body in the half-frozen ground. + +I was only waiting for an acquaintance, who was to tell me the hour of +the funeral, and I had not long to wait. Having wrapped up my nose and +ears with the utmost care, I set out with the others to the hospital. + +The hospital was outside the town. In the courtyard, and at some +distance from the other buildings, stood a small shed--the mortuary. + +In this mortuary lay Baldyga's body. + +When the doors were opened, we entered, and the scene within made a +painful impression on the few of us present. We were about ten people, +possibly a few more, and we all involuntarily looked at one another: +we were standing opposite a cold and bare reality, not veiled by any +vestige of pretence.... + +In the shed,--which possessed neither table nor stool, nothing but +walls white with hoarfrost and a floor covered with snow,--lay a large +bearded corpse, equally white, and tied up in some kind of sheet or +shirt. This was Baldyga. + +The body, which was completely frozen, had been brought near the light +to the door, where the coffin was standing ready. + +Never shall I forget Baldyga's face as I saw it then with the light +full upon it, and washed by the snow. There was something strange and +indescribably sad in the rough, strongly marked countenance; the large +pupils and projecting eyeballs seemed to look far away into the +distance towards the stern frosty sky. + +'That man,--he was a good sort,' one of those present said to me, +noticing the impression which the sight of Baldyga made on me. 'He was +always steady and industrious; people who were hard up used to go to +him and he would help them. But there never was anyone so obstinate as +Kurp: he believed to the last that he would go back to the Narev.[11] +Yet before the end came it was plain that he knew he would never get +there.' + +Meanwhile the petrified body had been laid in the coffin, and placed +upon the small one-horse Yakut sledge. + +Then the tailor's wife--a person versed in religious +practices,--undertook the office of priest for such time as we could +give her, and began to sing 'Ave Maria,' while we joined in with +voices broken with emotion. After this we proceeded to the cemetery. + +We walked quickly; the frost was invigorating, and made us hasten our +steps. At last we reached the cemetery. We each threw a handful of +frozen earth on to the coffin.... A few deft strokes of the spade ... +and in a moment only a small freshly turned mound of earth remained to +bear witness to Baldyga's yet recent existence in this world. This +witness would not last long, however,--scarcely a few months. The +spring would come, and, thawed by the sun, the mound on the grave +would sink and become even with the rest of the ground, and grass and +weeds would grow upon it. After a year or two the witnesses of the +funeral would die, or be dispersed throughout the wide world, and if +even the mother who bore him were to search for him, she would no +longer find a trace on the earth. But, indeed, none would seek for the +dead man, nor even a dog ask for him. + +Baldyga had known this; we knew it too: and we dispersed to our houses +in silence. + +The day following the funeral the frost was yet more severe. There was +not a single building to be seen on the opposite side of the fairly +narrow street in which I lived, for a thick mist of snow crystals +overspread the earth, like a cloud. The sun could not penetrate this +mist, and although there was not a living soul in the street, the air +was so highly condensed through the extreme cold that I continually +heard the metallic sound of creaking snow, the sharp reports of the +walls and ground cracking in the frost, or the moaning song of a +Yakut. Evidently those Yakut frosts were beginning, which reduce the +most terrible Arctic cold to insignificance. They fill human beings +with unspeakable dread. Every living thing feels its utter +helplessness, and although it cowers down and shrinks into itself for +protection, knows quite well--like the cur worried by fierce +mastiffs,--that all is in vain, for sooner or later the inexorable foe +is bound to be victorious. + +And Baldyga was continually in my mind, as if he were alive. I had sat +for hours at my half-finished task. Somehow I could not stick to work; +the pen fell from my hand, and my unruly thoughts ranged far away +beyond the snowy frontier and frosty ground. In vain I appealed to my +reason, in vain I repeated wholesome advice to myself for the tenth +time. Hitherto I had offered some resistance to the sickness which had +consumed me for several weeks; to-day I felt completely overcome and +helpless. Homesickness was devouring and making pitiless havoc of me. + +I had been unable to resist dreaming so many times already; was it +likely I should withstand the temptation to-day? The temptation was +stronger, and I was weaker than usual. + +So begone frost and snow, begone the existence of Yakutsk! I threw +down my pen, and surrounding myself with clouds of tobacco smoke, +plunged into the waters of feverish imagination. + +And how it carried me away!... My thoughts fled rapidly to the far +West, across morasses and steppes, mountains and rivers, across +countless lands and cities, and spread a scene of true enchantment +before me. There on the Vistula lay my native plains, free from misery +and human passions, beautiful and harmonious. My lips cannot utter, +nor my pen describe their charm! + +I saw the golden fields, the emerald meadows; the dense forests +murmured their old legends to me. + +I heard the rustle of the waving corn; the chirping of the feathered +poets; the sound of the giant oaks as they haughtily bid defiance to +the gale. + +And the air seemed permeated by the scent of those aromatic forests, +and those blossoming fields, adorned in virgin freshness by the blue +cornflowers and that sweetest beauty of Spring,--the innocent violet. + +... Every single nerve felt the caress of my native air.... I was +touched by the life-giving power of the sun's rays; and although the +frost outside creaked more fiercely, and showed its teeth at me on the +window panes more menacingly, yet the blood circulated in my veins +more rapidly, my head burnt, and I sat as if spellbound, deaf, no +longer seeing or hearing anything round me.... + + +II + +I did not notice that the door opened and someone entered my room, +neither did I see the circles of vapour, which form in such numbers +every time a door is opened that they obscure the face of the person +entering. I did not feel the cold: it penetrates human dwellings here +with a sort of shameless, premeditated violence. In fact, I had seen +or heard nothing until suddenly I felt a man close to me, and even +before catching sight of him, found myself involuntarily putting him +the usual Yakut question: + +'Toch nado?' ('What do you want?') + +'If you please, Sir, I am a hawker,' was the answer. + +I looked up. Although he was dressed in ox and stag's hide, I had no +doubt that a typical Polish Jew from a small town stood before me. +Anyone who had seen him at Lossitz or Sarnak would have recognized him +as easily in Yakut as in Patagonian costume. I knew him at once. And +since, as I have said, I was as yet only semi-conscious, and had asked +the question almost mechanically, the Jew now standing before me did +not interrupt my train of thought too harshly; the contrast was, +therefore, not too disagreeable. Quite the reverse. I gazed into the +well-known features with a certain degree of pleasure; the Jew's +appearance at that moment seemed quite natural, since it carried me in +thought and feeling to my native land, and the few Polish words +sounded dear to my ear. Half dreaming still, I looked at him kindly. + +The Jew stood still for a moment, then turned, and retreating to the +door, began to pull off his multifarious coverings. + +Then I came to myself, and realized that I had not yet answered him, +and that my sagacious countryman, quite misinterpreting my silence, +was anxious to dispose of his wares to me. I hastened to undeceive +him. + +'In heaven's name, man, what are you doing?' I cried quickly, 'I do +not want to buy anything; I am not wanting anything. Do not unload +yourself in vain, and go away with God's blessing!' + +The Jew stopped undoing his things, and after a moment's +consideration, came towards me with his long fur coat[12] half +trailing behind him, and began to mumble quickly in broken sentences: +'It's all right; I know you won't buy anything, Sir. I saw you, for I +have been here a long time, a very long time.... I didn't know before +that you had come.... You come from Warsaw, don't you, Sir? They only +told me yesterday evening that you had been here four months already; +what a pity it was such a time before I heard of it! I should have +come at once. I have been searching for you to-day for an hour, Sir. I +went quite to the end of the town,--and there's such a frost +here,--confound it!... If you will allow me Sir,--I won't interrupt +for long?... Only just a few words....' + +'What do you want of me?' + +'I should only like to have a little chat with you, Sir.' + +This answer did not greatly surprise me. I had already come across not +a few people, Jews among them, who had called solely for the purpose +of 'having a little chat' with a man recently arrived from their +country. Those who came were interested in the most varied topics +imaginable; there were the inquisitive gossipers pure and simple, +there were the people who only enquired after their relations, and +there were the politicians, including those whose heads had been +turned. Among those who came, however, politics always played a +specially important part. So it did not surprise me, I repeat, to hear +the wish expressed by a fresh stranger, and although I should have +been glad to rid my cottage as quickly as possible of the unpleasant +odour of the ox-hide coat,--badly tanned, as usual--I begged him in a +friendly way to take it off and sit down. + +The Jew was evidently pleased. He took a seat beside me at once and I +could now observe him closely. + +All the usual features of the Jewish race were united in the face +beside me: the large, slightly crooked nose and penetrating hawk's +eyes, the pointed beard of the colour of a well-ripened pumpkin, the +low forehead, surrounded by thick hair; all these my guest possessed. +And yet, strange to say, the haggard face expressed a certain frank +sincerity, and did not make a disagreeable impression on me. + +'Tell me where you come from, what your name is, what you are doing +here, and why you wish to see me?' + +'Please, Sir, I am Srul, from Lubartw. Perhaps you know it,--just a +stone's throw from Lublin?--Well, at home everyone thinks it a long +way from there, and formerly I thought so too. But now,' he added with +emphasis, 'we know that Lubartw is quite close to Lublin, a mere +stone's throw.' + +'And have you been here long?' + +'Very long; three good years.' + +'That is not so very long; there are people who have lived here for +over 20 years, and I met an old man from Vilna in the road, who had +been here close upon 50 years. Those have really been a long time.' + +But the Jew snubbed me. 'As to them, I can't say. I only know that I +have been here a long time.' + +'You must certainly live quite alone, if the time seems so long to +you?' + +'With my wife and child--my daughter. I had four children when I set +out, but, may the Lord preserve us, it was such a long way, we were +travelling a whole year. Do you know what such a journey means, +Sir?... Three children died in one week--died of travelling, as it +were. Three children!... An easy thing to say!... There was nowhere +even to bury them, for there was no cemetery of ours there.... I am a +Husyt,' he added more quietly. 'You know what that means Sir?... I +keep the Law strictly ... and yet God punishes me like this....' He +grew silent with emotion. + +'My friend,' I tried to say to console him a little,--'no doubt under +such circumstances it is difficult to remember that it makes no +difference; but all earth is hallowed.' + +But the Jew jumped as if he had been scalded. + +'Hallowed! how hallowed! In what way is it hallowed! What are you +saying, Sir? It's unclean! It's damned!... Hallowed earth?... You must +not talk like that, Sir, you ought to be ashamed! Is earth hallowed, +which never thaws? This earth is cursed! God doesn't wish human beings +to live here; it wouldn't have been like this, if He had wished it. +Cursed! Bad! Damned! Damned!' + +And he began to spit about him, and stamp his feet, threatening the +innocent Yakut earth with tightened lips and his shrivelled hands, and +muttering Jewish maledictions. At last, exhausted by the effort, he +fell rather than sat down at the table beside me. + +All exiles, without regard to religion or race, dislike Siberia: +evidently a fanatic does not learn to hate it half-heartedly. I paused +until he had calmed himself. Educated in a severe school, the Jew +quickly regained his self-possession and mastered his emotion, and +when I gazed questioningly into his eyes the next moment, he +immediately answered me: + +'You must pardon me; I do not speak of this to anyone, for to whom +should I speak here?' + +'Then are there very few Jews here?' + +'Those here? Do you call them Jews, Sir? They're such low fellows, not +one of them keeps the Law strictly.' + +Fearing another outburst, I would not, however, allow him to finish, +and decided to change the conversation by asking him straight out what +he wanted to talk to me about now. + +'I should like to know the news from there, Sir. I have been here so +many years, and I have never yet heard what is going on there.' + +'You are asking a good deal, for I can't exactly tell you everything. +I don't know what interests you,--politics perhaps?' + +The Jew was silent. + +I concluded that my present guest, like many of the others, was +interested in politics; but as I myself did not understand the very +elements of the subject, I began to give the stereotyped account I had +already composed with a view to frequent repetition of the situation +of European politics, our own,[13] and so forth. But the Jew fidgeted +impatiently. + +'Then this does not interest you?' I asked. + +'I have never thought about it,' he answered candidly. + +'Ah, now I know why you have come! I am sure you wish to know how the +Jews are doing, and how trade is going?' + +'They are better off than I am.' + +'Exactly. I am sure, under the circumstances, you will wish to know if +living is dear with us, what the market prices are, how much for +butter, meat, etc.' + +'What does it concern me if it is ever so cheap there, if I can get +nothing here?' + +'Quite right again; but what the devil did you actually come here +for?' + +'Since I don't know myself, I ask you, Sir, how I am to tell you? You +see, Sir, I often get thinking ... I think so much ... that Ryfka +(that's my wife) asks, "Srul, what's the matter with you?" And what +can I tell her, for I don't know myself what it is. Perhaps some +people would laugh at me?' he added, as if fearing I were amongst +them. + +But I did not laugh; I was interested. Something, the cause of which +he himself could not explain or express in words, was evidently +weighing on him, and his unusually poor command of language added to +this difficulty. In order to help him I re-assured him by telling him +that I was in no hurry, as my work was not urgent and there would +therefore be no harm in our having an hour's talk, and so on.--The Jew +thanked me with a glance, and after a moment's thought opened the +conversation thus: + +'When did you leave Warsaw, Sir?' + +'According to the Russian calendar, at the end of April.' + +'Was it cold there then or warm?' + +'Quite warm. I travelled in a summer suit at first.' + +'Well, just fancy, Sir! Here it was freezing!' + +'Then you have forgotten, is that it? Anyway, with us the fields are +sown in April, and all the trees are green.' + +'Green?' Joy shone in Srul's eyes. 'Why, yes, yes--green:--and here it +was freezing!' + +Now at last I knew why he had come to me. Wishing to make certain, +however, I was silent: the Jew was evidently getting animated. + +'Well, Sir, you might tell me if there is any--with us now ... but you +see, I don't know what it's called; I have already forgotten Polish,' +he apologized shyly, as if he had ever known it--'it's white like a +pea blossom, yet it's not a pea, and in summer it grows in gardens +round houses, on those tall stalks?' + +'Kidney beans?' + +'That's just it! Kidney beans! Kidney beans!' he repeated to himself +several times, as if wishing to impress those words on his memory for +ever. + +'Of course there are plenty of those. But are there none here?' + +'Here! I have never seen a single pod all these past three years. Here +the peas are what at home we should not expect the ... the....' + +'The pigs to eat,' I suggested. + +'Well, yes! Here they sell them by the pound, and it's not always +possible to get them.' + +'Are you so fond of kidney beans?' + +'It's not that I am so fond of them, but they are so beautiful +that ... I don't know why ... I often get thinking and thinking how +they may be growing round my house. Here there's nothing!' + +'And now, Sir,' he recommenced, 'will you tell me, if those small grey +birds are still there in the winter,--like this--' and he measured +with his hand. 'I have forgotten their names too. Formerly there were +a great many, when I used to pray by the window. They used to swarm +round! Well, whoever even looked at them there? Do you know, Sir, I +could never have believed that I should ever think about them! But +here, where it's so cold that even the crows won't stop, you can't +expect to see little things like that. But they are sure to be there +with us? They are there, aren't they, Sir?...' + +But I did not answer him now. I no longer doubted that this old +fanatical Jew was pining for his country just as much as I was, and +that we were both sick with the same sickness. This unexpected +discovery moved me deeply, and I seized him by the hand, and asked in +my turn: + +'Then that was what you wished to talk to me about? Then you are not +thinking of the people, of your heavy lot, of the poverty which is +pinching you; but you are longing for the sun, for the air of your +native country!... You are thinking of the fields and meadows and +woods; of the little songsters, for whom you could not spare a +moment's attention there when you were busy, and now that these +beautiful pictures are fading from your recollection, you fear the +solitude surrounding you, the vast emptiness which meets you and +effaces the memories you value? You wish me to recall them to you, to +revive them; you wish me to tell you what our country is like?...' + +'Oh yes, Sir, yes, Sir! That was why I came here,' and he clasped my +hands, and laughed joyfully, like a child. + +'Listen, brother....' + +And my friend, Srul, listened, all transformed by listening, his lips +parted, his look rivetted to mine; he kindled, he inspired me by that +look; he wrested the words from me, drank them in thirstily, and laid +them in the very depth of his burning heart.... I do not doubt that he +laid them there, for when I had finished my tale he began to moan +bitterly, 'O weh mir! weh mir!' He struck his red beard, and in his +misery tears like a child's rolled fast down his face.... And the old +fanatic sat there a long time sobbing, and I cried with him.... + +Much water has flowed down the cold Lena since that day, and not a few +human tears have rolled down suffering cheeks. All this happened long +ago. Yet in the silence of the night, at times of sleeplessness, the +statuesque face of Baldyga, bearing the stigma of great sorrow, often +rises before me, and invariably beside it Srul's yellow, drawn face, +wet with tears. And when I gaze longer at that night-vision, many a +time I seem to see the Jew's trembling, pale lips move, and I hear his +low voice whisper: + +'Oh Jehovah, why art thou so unmerciful to one of Thy most faithful +sons?...' + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Baldyga means 'lump' or 'clumsy lout.' + +[11] The river near his home. + +[12] 'Docha.' + +[13] _i.e._ Polish. + + + + +IN AUTUMN + +WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +The rain and bad weather, which had continued without interruption +for several days, had kept the inhabitants of the hut, 'Talaki,'[14] +prisoners indoors, and condemned them to idleness. They constantly +went out of the room to gaze long and sadly at the weeping sky, for +the hay was rotting in the fields;--but alas! a grey film of rain hung +over all the surrounding country, and in vain their eyes sought +longingly for the smallest chink of blue in the heavy, dark clouds. + +To add to the misfortune, the rain, not content with the holes left in +the roof from the year before, made a number of fresh ones. It thus +poured into the room from all sides on to people's heads and +shoulders, and formed quite a deep and ever-growing pool underfoot. +Various forms of filth, remains of food, refuse of fish and game, the +dung in the corner where the calves were kept, which had been trodden +down and had dried in the course of the year, became moist, and filled +the interior of the 'yurta'[15] with an unbearable smell. It was +therefore stuffy, cold, and damp there. The fire, burning rather +slowly, was choked by balls of grey smoke, which went across the room. + +The hut was tiny; it occupied no more than twenty-four square yards of +the solitude surrounding it. The slanting walls, made of barked larch +trees placed perpendicularly, and narrowing towards the top, +diminished its size still more. The flat roof was built of rafters of +the same wood, and came down so close to the inhabitants' heads that +one of them, Michawio, a big lad, while unwinding a bundle of nets at +the little window, hit his curly shock head against it. + +A plank partition, hewn out with a hatchet, ran through the centre of +the room, and divided it into equal parts, the right being for the +men, the left for the women. By a post at the end of the room, with +his face turned towards the fire, his hands on his right knee, and +smoking a pipe, sat my host, Kyrsa,[16] a Yakut. Still hale, though no +longer young, he was the wealthy and independent master of field +labourers, and the owner of the house, of many nets, animals, and +implements, as well as of three women:--a wife, and two daughters. The +youngest was sold already, but she was living with her father, as the +sum agreed upon for her had not yet been paid in full by the buyer. + +There was deep silence in the room,--a rather unusual thing in a place +where several Yakut people are together. The fire roared and hissed in +the chimney, and behind the partition the girls made a squeaking sound +as they rubbed the skins together. I had a foreboding that this +silence would end badly; indeed, the storm soon broke out. The lad +nicknamed 'Shmata' brought it on by his incompetence. After wandering +from corner to corner all day, he now upset a bucket and spilt the +water. This was the last straw. All eyes flashed, and faces grew pale. + +The frightened Shmata tried to lay the blame on Michawio, who had been +stooping down near him to look for a strap. Michawio in revenge +reminded Shmata of what had happened about the rake the year before. +The quarrel had begun in earnest. Their tongues, moving with the speed +of a windmill, and throwing out invectives and sneers, formed an +accompaniment to the host's threatening shouts, which rang out like +the trump of the Archangel. Nor did our hostess fail to leave her +seclusion to take part in the skirmish with the excitement peculiar to +women all the world over. The yurta suddenly became like a disturbed +beehive. The host affirmed, the hostess denied, the labourers hurled +abuses at one another, the girls uttered war cries, the baby woke up +and screamed in its cradle, and the calves lowed in answer to the loud +mooing of the cows, whom evening had driven near the house door. This +last occurence had a perceptible influence in diminishing the noise, +for it caused the female element to withdraw from the fight; in fact, +the disturbance might have been conjured away completely, if the happy +thought of adding something at the very moment when everyone else was +quieting down, had not entered our host's head. + +This remark burst out unexpectedly, like a belated bomb after a +battle, and produced such a din that the cows and calves were silent, +the wind abated in fright, the clouds fled, and I became aware of a +golden sunbeam penetrating the holes in the bladder at the window, and +falling suddenly into the interior of our dark, dirty, noisy hovel. +Merrily and brightly it rested in a shining circle on the closely +cropped grey head of my host, before whose nose his wife's large +closed fist was hovering at that moment. 'That's for you! Take that! +Go on!' Kuimis cried, still beautiful in her anger. The fist came +closer and closer to the unfortunate man's mouth. + +What happened further? Did Kyrsa avenge himself like a man for that +greatest of all insults possible to a Yakut from a woman? Or did he +show himself to be the 'wife of his wife,' an old woman and a +simpleton, as the neighbours called him, and refrain from knocking out +the teeth or breaking the ribs of the active woman by whose work he +lived and had grown rich? I do not know, because, foreseeing the +overthrow of my friend, in whom love for his wife was always +struggling against a sense of duty, and not wishing to be a witness of +his defeat, I shouldered my gun and went out of the cottage. + +The wind had dropped, the covering of clouds was torn open, and bits +of pale blue sky were unveiled here and there. The sun peeped out +suddenly through one of these little gaps, and the landscape, which +had been dreary and joyless a moment before, brightened into a golden +splendour. A light shadow, half cheerful, half sombre, fell across its +faded autumn foliage, and in this half smile it resembled a forsaken +woman, to whom the caprice of a lover, who has already grown cold, +offers a moment of tenderness and happiness again. Drops of rain +glistened like brilliants on the dark branches of the trees and +bushes; the sky was coloured in shades of carmine, and the pearly +tears of the passing storm trembled on the willows, still swaying from +it. + +Before me, between two high promontories overgrown by woods which ran +in opposite directions, sparkled the surface of the lake. In +proportion as it stretched into the distance, its bank became more +winding, lower, and mistier, until it disappeared at the outlet of a +gorge. Owing to the distance, the tall, thin larches, the thick +willows, bushes, and grass growing there looked quite small, but the +rays of the sunset, falling on them from behind, produced a wonderful +lace-work of dark branches and leaves against a pale-rose sky. Grey +clouds hung above them, heavily embroidered with gold and purple. The +waves sported and chased one another below on the foam-splashed banks +of the lake, which was painted with colours from the sky. + +I walked towards the gorge, by the footpath leading through a meadow +which was now turning yellow. + +That 'demons' forest'[17] looked dark and horrible close at hand. The +flat hills, uniformly covered with soft moss of a dirty green, and +with cranberry leaves, undulated gently westwards towards the sinking +sun. The wood covering these hills was sparse and stunted, and +disfigured them rather than otherwise, for single trees stood out here +and there like the remaining hair on a bald man's head. Silence, and +the gloom of oncoming night already filled the interior of the forest. +Only here and there a forgotten ray of sunshine was burning itself out +above in the bare, wind-twisted summits of the larches. + +I stood for a moment, looking at that wild spot, which no native would +have dared to approach. A deep stillness lay upon it; the waves beat +more and more gently and noiselessly; the sunset was fading away, and +only where the network of bushes was less close a transient gleam +lighted the surface of some lakes, which had hitherto been unknown to +me. I walked on towards them, impelled by curiosity and a feeling of +longing. + +The way proved more difficult than I had expected. At every moment I +was obliged to jump or climb over bushes and avoid the deep, narrow +wells, boarded round with tree-trunks felled a hundred years before +and perfidiously concealed by the mosses and plants overgrowing them. +As these wells were full of water, with bottoms as slippery as ice, an +unwary pedestrian could easily break his neck or fracture a leg by +falling into them. In many places swampy streams trickled along +undefined channels, and though their banks were shallow, they were +boggy and difficult to cross on account of the trunks and branches +lying in them. The wood was full of trees with projecting, mud-covered +roots, which now, when everything was assuming an indefinite shape in +the twilight, looked twisted and monstrous. The white patches of +lichen shining in the darkness at the foot of the trees like the +immense shreds of a pall, emphasized and doubled their weird +appearance. It is, therefore, no wonder that in the purple light of +dawn, or in the moonlight, the natives should here see the tall +wood-demon's pale face,--the Slav hunter who came from the South and +now roams near the Yakut cottages, injuring cattle. + +Woe to the district where his shadow passes! Often from fifty to two +hundred beasts fall dead at one shot from those terrible Southern +arms. + +That evening, however, I met none of these inhabitants of the wood. I +also did not see the 'demons,'--the dry Tungus corpses. At one time +they were to be found here quite frequently, and the forest takes its +name from them. Shrivelled and horrible, they usually sit somewhere +under a tree or cleft in a rock, gazing eastwards with eye-sockets +pecked by the birds. On their knees they hold a wooden bow, or a +rifle, at their feet lies a hatchet with a broken handle, and at their +belt, inlaid with silver and beads, hangs a broken knife in its +sheath,--also broken, in order to prevent the dead man from doing any +mischief after death. A little to one side lie scattered the bones of +the reindeer, killed on his grave, the harness, and the small Tungus +sledge. No one ever dares to possess himself of any of these +considerably valuable articles, for punishment threatens the +foolhardy, inasmuch as he loses his way all day long until he returns +to the same place and restores the stolen object. Until they give +ample satisfaction, and atone to the angered owner by a gift, +obstinate people return some thirty, even a hundred times without +being able to escape from the magic circle. It is dangerous even to +touch any of the things belonging to the dead man, since that evokes a +storm, or, at best, a high wind. Although the kindly natives had +advised me to avoid meeting with the 'demon,' since it brings early, +and sometimes immediate death, I was very sorry not to have seized him +red-handed that evening. However, I came to be severely punished for +this sinful wish. + +The twilight deepened. The last purple resplendance had already faded +from the sunset, when tired and tattered, I at last succeeded in +pushing my way through the bushes of the 'demon's forest.' The sky was +dark, and twinkling with myriads of stars. My expedition had failed in +every respect. To complete the misfortune, the white mists hung like +muslin over the valley, and entirely prevented me from satisfying my +curiosity. I was therefore only able to take pleasure in the play of +the moonlight. + +It was really a beautiful view, although rather wild and gloomy. +Nearly the whole of the broad valley, to the very edge of the wood +where the dark, bare tree-tops projected beyond the border of mist, +was filled by white balls of vapour; the moon was moving slowly above +them. Looking for a moment into the depths of the valley, she drew +aside the floating veil, and touched the sleeping lake below with her +silvery kiss. I stood a long while to gaze and to rest. The deep +silence, the stillness which always reigns in these woods, the +knowledge that no one but myself was to be found in that solitude for +twenty versts round, filled me with a strange feeling of anxiety and +longing. I roused myself in order to dispel this. It was unfortunately +time to think of returning;--no easy matter, however, for in making my +way through the wood, I had lost a clear conception of the right +track. At last I hit on a small footpath, and decided to follow it in +the hope that it would lead me to some inhabited spot. I had scarcely +gone twenty steps before becoming persuaded that I was not walking on +a path, but on one of the numerous tracks made in the wood by water or +animals. It was therefore necessary to return to the place from which +I had started, for only thence could I more or less trace the way +leading in a bee-line through the wood. But the place had disappeared; +the night had shrouded it in new and different shadows, and the mist +had drawn its silver web across it. I walked for some time, searching +in vain, and haunted by the thought of forest madness. I had seen +people brought home from the 'taiga'[18] no longer in possession of +their faculties, pale and miserable, and with the traces of terror and +madness in their eyes. These unhappy men had often lost their way +quite near houses, without seeing them or being able to recognize the +points of the compass, although the sun was shining, and they had +wandered about, crying and howling like wild animals. After +recovering, they said that they had seen the demon. One of the causes +of this illness is the fatigue brought on by the strain of the vain +search. So I sat down on a felled trunk, resolving to wait for +daybreak. + +The air was cool. My clothes were wet with the mist and rain, besides +being too thin for spending the night in the wood, so that I soon +began to suffer from the cold. I tried to light a fire, but the +matches were damp, and the only one which burnt could not set fire to +the moist brushwood and logs. Having, therefore, gathered some grass, +I hid my feet in it, as they were suffering the most from the cold; I +examined my gun, and loaded it, and then, crouching against a tree, I +tried to go to sleep. + +In a situation of this kind every sense is rapidly dulled,--touch, +smell, even sight; hearing alone becomes exceedingly acute. After only +a few minutes I could hear my heart beating, the blood pouring +through my veins, the whisper of the trees, the rustle of the mist, so +that the dead silence of the wood was broken in upon by sounds, which, +though scarcely audible, continued to increase. Suddenly a very real +sound rang out amid these fancied ones, and forced me to open my eyes. +It came from the further end of the lake, and was like the measured +strokes of an oar. I fixed my eyes on the spot whence it seemed to +come. The veil of mist was trembling slightly, and beyond it, in the +distance, something indistinct appeared low on the water. After a +moment a small Yakut pirogue emerged from the shadows, and sped along +the lake. I could perfectly well see the rower squatting in the bottom +of the boat, and striking first with one, then with the other blade of +his long oar, from the ends of which the water poured in a shining +stream, like molten silver. + +He soon approached the bank, and drew the boat to land. I crept +towards him, hiding in order that he should not see me too soon, and +run away, as I knew he would. He was engaged in taking something out +of the boat. + +'What news?' I greeted him, according to the local custom, coming +slowly out of the bushes. + +He started and exclaimed, but did not run away, for he recognized me, +and I him. He was a poor Yakut, who lived about five versts from me. + +'I know nothing! I have heard nothing! Oh, how you did frighten +me,--but it's all right!' he said hastily, giving me his hand. + +'What did you think it was?' + +'Why should one meet a man in the wood at night time?' he answered +evasively, eyeing me suspiciously from head to foot. 'You often think +it's a man you know, and you talk to him as if you knew him, and then +it turns out in the end not to be a man at all.' + +'What are you doing here so late?' + +'I am going home; it's a holiday to-morrow. I have a long way to go +from here to Babylon[19] for fishing,--thirty versts. You know we're +poor folk, we live by fishing,--we haven't any horses; so one is +always in a boat, always in a boat. As I was dragging it through the +wood I cut my foot, so I've got behindhand.' + +'You have cut your foot?' + +'It isn't much, for I've stopped the bleeding.' + +'Then perhaps it was you whistling and calling?' I asked, remembering +a strange sound I had heard a moment before. + +'I!--No!' He was silent, and I noticed him lean over the boat, and +cross himself. + +'And what are you doing here?' he asked in his turn. + +I hesitated. + +'Looking for ducks,' I lied, not wishing to frighten him more. + +'Ducks!' he repeated, laughing heartily, and his white teeth shone in +the darkness like pearls. + +'There have never been any ducks here!' + +'Never been any? Why?' I asked, as I helped him to draw the boat along +the edge of the wood towards the lake, which could be seen in the +distance. The fisherman was limping. + +'The lakes are different,' he explained, 'and there are as many lakes +in our country as stars in the sky, and the stars are only the +reflection of them. The lakes are as different as the stars:--there +are large and small ones, and some so deep that you can't reach the +bottom; or else they are shallow, or marshy. In one there are fine +fish, in another small, in some the water's bad, and makes a man ill, +because the cattle go into it, in others again it's as pure as air.' + +We halted on the bank, let down the boat into the water, and entered +it, the fisherman in front, I behind. Leaning lightly against one +another, back to back, we sailed along like a god with two faces of +which one was bearded and European, the other flat, clean-shaven, and +Mongolian. + +The Mongolian face continued its conversation, only interrupting it +now and then to give me a warning not to move when the boat rocked too +much. + +'Everything comes from the water. Even the cow lived in the water +until she was taken and tamed by man. There are different kinds of +wild beasts and even people living in the water, as there are on land. +Now just look!' and he pointed with his oar to the long water-weeds +swaying under the passage of the pirogue. 'Isn't that a wood?' It was +indeed a wood, dark and mysterious, visited only by fishes and drowned +men. Once he had fallen in, no swimmer ever extricated himself from +its thickets. + +'Old people say,' the Yakut continued, 'that formerly everything was +different,--everything was better, because there was more water, and +that even the sables used to come up to the farm gates, and there was +so much fish that it was enough to shoot an arrow into the lake to +draw it back with a good catch. But now there's nothing; the sables +have run away, and there isn't much fish. It's only the traders, our +fathers, who save us, or we should die. They give the money to pay the +taxes, they give tea, tobacco, and cotton. Eh yes! these traders! I'd +just like to be a trader!' + +The little boat struck the bank. We therefore drew it along to the +next lake, and continued the rest of our journey in this manner, this +being the sole means of travelling in summer in that country of lakes, +marshes, and swampy woods. + +After travelling thus for an hour along a narrow stream, overgrown +with bulrushes, we ultimately arrived at the last lake. The sparks +from a yurta chimney were glittering on its bank in the distance, like +tiny red stars. + +'I expect you are going to Chachak?' my companion asked, when we +stopped on the bank. 'I am spending the night there.' + +I took up some of the fisherman's things, and walked towards the +yurta. I had known Chachak for some time past already. He was a queer +man, who laughed at his own extravagances, and frequently even shocked +the feeling of the neighbourhood. 'Chachak has made himself a cap of a +whole wolf skin!' I had been told laughingly. 'Chachak has paid the +merchants only two roubles for a brick of tea; "they would make too +much profit by three roubles," he said!' + +'What about the merchants? Did they give it to him?' + +'Eh, why, his old woman gave it to them on the sly! Why! You don't +know Chachak! He won't give three roubles;--he won't drink, and he +won't give that!' + +Chachak had been famous in his youth as the best hunter in the +district, and wonders were related of his prowess and skill. He +preferred bear hunting to any other, and set out to it summer and +winter with his spear and gun, killing in the open field or lair, +just as it happened. He was as ready for such encounters as he was for +cards. Only let him hear of a bear, and from that moment he had no +peace until he had tracked and killed it. Many a time he had been +invited to accompany hunters who had found a den with several bears. +But burning with the fever for the chase, he had been unable to wait +until morning, and had slipped away in the grey dawn with his faithful +dog to hasten to the spot, where he was usually to be found, pale and +splashed with the blood of the 'forest lords.' There was nothing left +for his companions to do but for each to eat a portion of the hard +heart and liver of the vanquished, and to drink a cup of blood, +shouting the triumphant 'uch!' three times. All eyes would be upon +Chachak, who would try to appear indifferent, although excited and +feeling the just pride of a hero. Once, moreover, he had killed a bear +with a tail, which, as everyone knows, is not a bear, but a devil. Had +he not killed the 'icy demon,' who tracked people, carried off cattle, +and whom neither bullet nor spear could touch? Chachak himself never +spoke or boasted of his victories; he was always modest and reserved, +as befits a man who possibly knows more than others. Since the +accident which befell him during his last hunt, however, he had been +completely changed. He had given up hunting and playing cards, become +poor, and grown morose and strange:--he had lost his influence. + +His yurta stood near the bank, so I quickly found myself at its gate. +A bright fire was burning within, and voices could be heard talking. +So they were not asleep yet! I went up to the door, and peeped through +the chink. Chachak was sitting before the fire, with his face towards +me, holding a net which he was not winding, for his hand was stretched +slightly in front of him while he related something to the listeners +gathered round him. At his feet a small naked child played with the +brass chain of a knife hanging in a wooden sheath sewn to his leather +trousers above the right shin. Chachak was very animated; every now +and then he bent forward towards his listeners, and stamped his +massive heel on the clay floor of the cottage. + +'They have a horror of horseflesh, and eat pigs!' he was saying, 'yet +a horse is a very clean and sensible animal.' + +'Why, yes!' his listeners assented. + +'But pigs!--I have seen them! They're disgusting! They've no hair! +They're bare, dirty, stupid, and bad tempered! They've enormous +mouths, thin curling tails like snakes, small eyes, and teeth like a +dog's. They're spiteful too!--When I was at Yakutsk I had an adventure +with the pigs, and they all but ate me. There're lots of them there. +I had gone out by myself in the early morning to finish my pipe in the +passage; everyone was still asleep, and it had only just begun to +dawn. The pigs were going round the courtyard, squealing. I was young, +and liked a joke, so when they ran round me I shook my fist at them. +They rushed at me like mad!' He broke off with a laugh. 'I ran along +the passage, they after me; I jumped on to a bench, and they came +grunting round me, while I kept shaking my fist at them. Ha-ha!' + +He spat into his hand, and stretched it out before him. + +Suddenly the door creaked. The woman exclaimed, the lads jumped up +from the floor, the children began to cry. + +'Who's coming? A Russian, perhaps, and pigs with him!' Chachak stopped +talking, and drew back his outstretched fist. + +The entrance, as is usual in a Yakut yurta, was behind the fireplace, +the one source of light in the evening; thus a full minute of fear and +anxious expectation passed before I entered from the darkness. Yes, it +was a 'Russian,' but a well-known one, a friend, and, into the +bargain, without pigs! + +Their faces brightened, and they stretched out their hands, welcoming +me warmly and frankly, as guests are always welcomed in the North. +Chachak laughed, made room for me on the bench before the fire, and +ordered the kettle to be put on. + +'Tell us the news, and what is happening,' they begged me. + +I began to relate the local news. They all listened attentively, +although, as it turned out, they had already long known it. The +companion of my night journey entered, and the conversation became +general. The men grouped themselves round the table, on which +Chachak's wife had set supper for us; freshly made soup, sour milk, +and a large pile of fish, dried and smoked. + +Chachak stood at the fire, warming his back, and did not join in the +conversation. His daughter, a young and rather pretty girl, placed a +few white china tea-cups and saucers on the table, and the usual Yakut +entertainment began: tea with milk and cold refreshments, followed +later by a hot supper with fish. Although the offer of meat was very +tempting, and we were rather hungry, we were not equal to tasting all +the dishes set before us. Chachak noticed this at once, and attacked +me about it with his wonted brusqueness. + +'You aren't eating? You've had enough? What's this new fashion of +going to pay visits without being hungry? You Slavs eat like birds +when you go to people's houses, but you go home and call out: "Wife, +the samovar; put the saucepan on the fire,--I'm hungry." You're +disgraceful!' + +They all began to laugh, the old man no less than the rest. + +A general conversation was started, at first about different countries +and customs, but soon reverting to burning local questions. + +'What's wrong with Andshay? He's in trouble. There's no trace of his +boy.' + +'None?' + +'A pity! He was a sturdy lad!' + +'Have they found nothing?' + +'No. All the neighbours have been out to search; they've searched the +lakes, they've searched the wood, they've been searching for a whole +week. But there's nothing,--nothing.' + +'Ah!--sure to be a bear. They say one appeared in the valley; +Kecherges saw him,' muttered the fisherman, who had arrived with me. + +At the word, 'bear,' Chachak, who was standing by the fire, silently +playing with his fingers, suddenly looked up. Everyone stopped +talking, and involuntarily turned towards him. His old wife nervously +tried to change the subject. + +'A bear! Where was he seen?' Chachak asked quickly in a low tone, +sitting down on the bench. + +'Oh! Who can tell? Perhaps it wasn't one either,' the fisherman +answered hesitatingly. + +'A bear,--depend upon it!' Chachak said slowly. 'They have found +neither flesh nor clothes:--"He" usually buries the remains of his +prey in the ground,--"He" even scrapes the blood off. That's just what +"He" does. You say Kecherges saw "Him?"' he again asked the fisherman. + +'Lies!' the latter answered evasively. + +'Oh! "He"'s clever, "He"'s sly and revengeful! Andshay must have done +something to "Him" in order to be able to boast of it, or to have +something to talk about. "He" remembers insults a long time, that's +why "He" has carried the boy off. Although "He" lives far away, "He" +hears in the mountains and forest quite well what we are saying here, +and understands like a man,--better than a man! Who knows what "He" +is? Skin "Him," and you will see how like a woman "He" is. But "He"'s +revengeful,--and terribly fierce,' Chachak added, looking down. '"He" +doesn't forgive!' + +'You Russian,'--he turned to me suddenly,--'be ready for "Him" on the +road. Take care! Take care! Though a bear is big, "He" can go as +quietly as a shadow when "He" wants to fall upon a man unawares. I +advise you to stay the night with us; there's no joking with "Him"! +Once I was not afraid either, but now;--there--look!' He undid his +shirt sleeve. It was a terrible sight. The left shoulder, which, as I +had previously noticed, the old man could make little use of, was +shrunk and thin to the elbow, like a mere bone covered with skin, and +those veins and muscles which were unscathed, wound round the bone +close to the surface. There was a mass of white scars, crossing in +different directions. + +'I have killed many,--many!' he continued, 'and now I know that they +will eat me for it,--eat me because I'm afraid. It happened like this. +It was rather later in the season than this; it was freezing. I got +ready my spring-gun for elk-shooting, and God gave me one of these big +beasts. To have carted its flesh, skin, and inside along a bad road +would have needed seven or eight horses. So I decided to build a +larder on the spot, and to lay the elk in it for a time, till the road +became frozen. I and my boy set out early to work. The lad was +lingering a little way behind me, and I was walking quite quietly +along the road, and had just passed the willow which grows on the hill +not far from here, when "He" came upon me. He ran towards me like a +dog, and before I could look round "He" was already standing on his +hind-legs. I reached out for my knife, but tried in vain to drag it +from the sheath. There was a night frost, and on coming out of the +house I had not wiped my knife, as I should, after eating, so it had +frozen to the sheath. It was God's hand!--So the "Black One" knocked +me down. Finding myself overpowered, I seized him by the throat with +my right hand, and laid the left on his jaws, and called to the boy to +run for help. The silly boy jumped on him, and--whack!--went his +pocket knife into the bear;--he had a little knife that size,' and +Chachak measured with his finger. '"You want to eat my father!" he +shouted. The Black One was frightened, and jumped into the bushes. But +the boy had hit me in the chest with his knife, and I should have been +killed, had it been able to pierce the stag's hide. They could +scarcely bring me round again.' + +'And you see from that time, when "He," sitting on me, looked into my +eyes, my mind has been troubled. I am afraid,' he added quietly, 'very +much afraid.' + +Not long after I took leave of my kind hosts, and went home. The moon +was shining brightly, the mist had disappeared, and the well-known +foot-path shone white before me. I had gone along it a thousand times +without fear or thought of evil, but this time when I neared the place +where Chachak had been attacked I involuntarily fingered my +knife-handle, and for a moment I seemed to see the monster lying in +the shadow of the bushes, its shaggy muzzle on its outstretched paws. + +A few years later I heard that Chachak had disappeared without trace +in the wood: the 'forest lords' had doubtless accomplished their +revenge. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] 'Talaki,' Yakut for 'water-willow.' + +[15] 'Yurta' = Yakut hut. + +[16] 'Kyrsa' = white fox. + +[17] Native name for this forest. + +[18] 'Taiga' = primeval forest in Siberia. + +[19] A large lake to the N.E. of the Kolymsk district. + + + + +IN SACRIFICE TO THE GODS + +WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +Close to where the river Sheroka issues from a rocky gorge into a +broad valley, there is a wooden column, ornamented with carving. At +this column, which stands in the middle of a small meadow near the +water, the nomad Tungus assemble annually from the neighbouring +mountains. Hundreds of reindeer in the midst of a crowd of human +beings make a charming picture as the caravans travel thither +together. When the merry crowd enters the valley the splash of the +river is lost in a ringing echo of voices. + +Their camp-fires, scattered in a semi-circle in the wood at the foot +of the mountains, twinkle against the background of eternal shadows +like a shining girdle, in which the delicate spring green and the grey +diaphanous tissue of stems and branches are interlaced. + +This is the most agreeable season in the mountain valleys; gnats and +other insects have not yet begun to be worrying, the air is +delightfully cool, everything is unfolding and blossoming, and only +the winter snow on the summits of the mountains lies untouched by the +warmth. The pale, transparent sky above the snow neither darkens at +night nor glitters with stars, but shines with the Northern light +which joins the sunset of the fading day to the sunrise of the next. + +The people remain near the column in the clearing for a whole week. +The family elders, grave old men, meet here and discuss their common +needs, collect the tribute of hides, and settle all important matters. + +But the young men use the time for love and merry-making, dancing and +races. The valley rings with laughter and shouting, with the strokes +of the hatchet and the echoes of songs; the ground trembles under the +cloven hoofs of the furiously driven reindeer; the leather lassoes +swish through the air as they are thrown on to the antlers of the +animals destined for slaughter. And where work is most active, where +life is at its fullest the jingle of the women's glass and silver +ornaments is sure to be heard. + +So it has been time out of mind. But one year it happened differently. + +Numbers of people assembled in the valley, as usual, but the noise of +their talking did not drown the roar of the river. The youths did not +dance at the meeting place, no reindeer were to be seen racing. There +was no laughter, no singing. + +Nor did the counsels take place in common. The men assembled in small +groups in separate tents, with a dull look on their sad faces. They +talked without animation; jokes and laughter, so beloved by the +Tungus, were checked by a general sense of depression, and only rarely +indulged in. + +However, they did not disperse, but waited impatiently for the coming +of old Seltichan, without whom they would not have dared to have +settled any important matters. But the old man did not arrive. + +'The old man doesn't come, he doesn't come,--and he won't come,' +muttered one of the group, sitting among his companions, who were +circling round the fire. He was a stout man of possibly fifty years of +age, unlike a Tungus, and dressed like a Yakut, with a silver Yakut +belt. He had the puffed-up air of a rich man knowing his own +importance. 'Who cares to visit the dying?' he added, sulkily. + +'_You_ didn't try to escape your fate,' gloomily answered a poorly +dressed old man, as tawny as copper, and as wrinkled as moss, who was +sitting on the opposite side of the fire. + +'That is true!' a third repeated. 'You don't try to escape, you don't +hide. Didn't I run away, didn't I hide? And what came of it?' and, +with emotion, he began for the hundredth time to relate the story of +his misfortune. Each time it was received with equal attention. + +'When the news of the disaster came I was on the summit of Bur-Janga, +and was just getting ready to go down; but I hesitated, and delayed my +start. For a long while the God had mercy on me;--I know that!--till +one night I awoke terrified, with a beating heart. I listened:--I +heard what seemed like a shot, and loud calling. I drew my head from +under the cover, and again I seemed to hear a noise in the wood, like +distant shooting. The dogs whined and howled, as if they had noticed a +bear. I went out of the tent, and looked. The moon was shining, and an +immense shadow passed into the wood from the bottom of the valley, +avoiding the hills. The dogs fell at my feet, and I covered my eyes +with my hand, unable to look. My heart beat in my breast like a +frightened bird, my feet were rigid with terror.' + +'O-oh!' echoed the sighs of the listeners. + +'And what happened next?--A hundred reindeer fell dead at once. Not +waiting for dawn, we pushed on that very night. We fled, not halting +anywhere, but our herds became smaller every day. So I divided them, +and sent them in three directions; yet in a few days' time my +son,--and later my daughter,--returned empty-handed. Then I made up +my mind to flee to the end of the world, where no one ever goes. But +is there a place anywhere, to which no one has ever yet been? I took +nothing belonging to the dying animals, not even the halters; I left +everything. And when the leader fell I did not even take the figured +band from his head, which had come down to me from my ancestors.' + +'A-ah!' responded the listeners. + +'The women burst into tears at that,' he continued, encouraged by the +sympathy of his audience, 'but the Russian traders had advised it. +"Take none of His offering, Brother; He seeks out His own, and will +find it everywhere!" So I obeyed; I left it and fled. At last I had +gone so far that I grew frightened myself:--may be no one had ever +been there before me. There were no trees anywhere, not even +bushes,--only the same rocks and snow everywhere,--and the gale. It +was impossible to pitch a tent for want of poles, and I was afraid to +send to the wood for them, so we dug out a hole in the snow under a +rock, and settled ourselves in it. We were comfortable there, and +began to be cheerful once more, for the plague ceased. One day +passed,--a second,--and none of the reindeer had sickened. We waited +in the silence of fear; we not only avoided talking, but even thinking +about "Him," for possibly "He" too would forget us! We did not allow +the reindeer out of our sight, and we went where they led us, spending +the night among the herd, like the Chukchee. In this way some time +passed. My wife was already beginning to be cheerful, and I myself +thought that all would be well, and we should grow richer after a +while. But again I suddenly awoke in the night, torn by anxiety. The +moon was shining as on that other night, and everything was bright and +still all round. The tired reindeer were sleeping in a heap in the +snow. But a shadow hung in the air, falling independently, and not +from a rock.' + +Again the listeners responded with sighs. + +'I slipped out of bed cautiously, took my gun, and without dressing, +began to steal, naked, towards "Him." "He" did not notice me, for "He" +was standing on a rock, taking stock of what I possessed. But when I +made a slight sound as I was hurriedly taking aim, "He" turned and +fixed "His" great burning eyes on me. I shot between them. What +happened afterwards I do not know. Did "He" hit me, or cover me with +"His" breath? I have no idea. + +'Something like a storm passed over me; but when I regained +consciousness I had not a single reindeer left;--Tumara was a poor +man.' + +The speaker was silent, waved his hand, and starting to his feet, +stood with bowed head, and an expression of pain on his face. The +young men in the audience also stood up; but the old men did not stir +from their seats, and fixing their eyes on the speaker, waited for the +continuation of the story. + +'Well,--and then--?' + +Tumara raised his head and began to speak, but at that moment his look +fell beyond the edge of the circle and became absorbed in the +distance, his face showed astonishment, his lips trembled, and tears +rolled from his eyes. Everyone at once turned in the same direction. + +At some distance from the fire, and leaning against the back of a +reindeer as white as milk, stood a grey-headed Tungus in the old-time +national costume. Behind him, holding a riding-reindeer by the bridle, +was a young boy resembling him in face and dress. + +'Seltichan!' they all cried, 'you have come at last,--you!--our +father! We thought that you had forsaken us, who are dying! What news? +What have you heard and seen beyond the mountains? How fare the people +of Memel? Are they living still? Or are they, perhaps, also drawing +their last breath, as we are? And you, our leader, what do you mean to +do? Have you come alone, or with all your people? Are you going back +to the mountains? Or are you going to the coast?' The questions came +pouring out. + +Giving the bridle to his son, Seltichan joined the circle round the +fire, and greeted everyone singly by a shake of the hand. He sat down +beside the Kniaz,[20] dressed like a Yakut, who hastily made room for +him. Then, pulling a small Chinese pipe out of his tobacco-pouch, he +filled it slowly. The group became silent, and sat down again. + +'It is now two months since the plague reached its height,' the old +man answered in a calm, grave voice. 'The people of Memel have +dispersed terrified and fled to the coast, but by different ways, in +order to avoid the dangerous place. You need not expect them here. But +my camp will arrive this evening.' + +'Ah! Seltichan, who would ever doubt that you would come? You are +wise, you are daring, you, we know, fear nothing!' the Kniaz cried, +stretching out his hand towards his neighbour's lighted pipe. + +A shadow stole over the old man's face. + +'No one can escape his fate,' he replied coldly. + +'But you were born to happiness, Seltichan! Does not the God love you? +When whole herds were dying everywhere, did you not merely lose a +young calf?' + +Again a cloud came over the old man's face. + +'He loves me because I keep the ancient customs. My welfare does not +spring from human tears, but the mountains, the rocks, the woods, and +water bring it me,' the old man remarked drily. + +His hearers caught up his words. + +'Yes, indeed! Your hand was open; you supported your people in the day +of disaster, and shared in it.' + +'Yet who can help more easily than you?' said the Kniaz. 'What can I +give, for example, I, who have only goods for sale, and debts? Should +I distribute my debts in these hard times? It is true, I have nothing +against that! Yet I too am a Tungus;--what would anyone gain from my +accursed debts? They don't breed reindeer,' he ended, laughing. + +'Yes, indeed! We should die without you, Seltichan! Who supports us? +Whose herds are larger than yours? Who has a better heart? What family +is more distinguished and richer? Whose sons are more skilled shots, +and finer huntsmen? Whose daughters, when grown-up, most attract our +youths? Are you not the first among us,--you who neither suffer nor +fear, never lie, and never deceive as we do, and bow to your fate? +You, Seltichan! And to whom shall we go, if you will not have pity on +us?' came from all sides. + +'The God knows, I will share with you! That is why I am here!' the old +man answered, touched. + +'Tumara! Tumara!' the Kniaz cried, seeking the story-teller, 'finish +your tale. You will see, Seltichan, what happens later.' + +Silence prevailed again. Tumara, who was sitting in the front row of +the councillors, stroked his right ear with his right hand, and began +after a moment's pause. + +'I have told you already how, having lost the reindeer, we took our +goods and our children on our backs, and returned to the valley. Our +children became ill, and soon died from eating bad meat, which made us +weak too. But what can a hunter find in the wilderness at a time like +that?' + +'What, indeed?' + +'Very soon we were entirely without food. We had eaten all our stores, +leather bags, and old thongs, and the women's greasy scarves; there +was nothing left that could have a taste. Do not we, who encamp on the +mountains, know what hunger is? And was Tumara wanting in courage?' + +'He was famous for it!' the listeners asseverated. + +'But it happened thus, nevertheless;--we had been many, and only four +were left,--I, my wife, my son, and daughter. We went on, always +longing for the sight of human faces. We halted at all the known spots +and ancient resting places, and everywhere found the cold ashes of +fires:--the people had fled, scattered by the danger. And our +wanderings took us ever further from them. + +'But when, on coming down from the mountains, we saw bare tent poles, +all our courage forsook us. Notwithstanding, we went on further and +never stopped searching, for it is not an easy thing for a man to lie +down and die in the snow without giving any account of himself.--We +scraped the rubbish, and turned over the wet ashes of the cold fires +to find a morsel of food, stilling our hunger by knawing the bones +left by the dogs. At last it came to this that we could not look at +our own children, full of flesh and warm blood, without trembling. +"Tumara, let the girl die to save her parents," my wife said at last. +I was sorry for the child. She looked at us, not understanding. +"Tala," her mother said to her, "according to the old custom, when the +family is in danger, the daughter dies first."' + +'That is so!' the listeners affirmed. + +'"Go, Tala," she said, "wash in the snow, and look at the world for +the last time." The girl understood and tried to escape, but I held +her; so she cried and begged: "Wait till the evening, perhaps the God +will send something, I want to live; I am afraid!" So we waited and +watched. The girl was continually going out of the tent, and looking +towards the wood, shading her eyes with her hand. But each time her +mother was behind her, hiding a knife in her sleeve. It had already +begun to be dusk. The girl went out oftener and each time stood longer +on the threshold, while I lay in the shade of the tent, waiting to see +what would happen. Suddenly I heard a cry outside, which froze my +heart. My wife came in with the knife in her hand, staggering like a +drunken woman. "Have you killed her?" "No, the God has had pity," she +said, "there is a large elk running into the wood close by here!" I +jumped up and ran out of the door with my son. The girl was sitting by +the tent with outstretched arms, while not far off in the wood stood a +large elk.--' + +'Stood a large elk!' the listeners repeated. + +'Is it difficult for a hunter to kill an animal grazing? But my limbs +were dried up with hunger, my muscles weak with pain, and as I stole +towards my prey my hands shook so much I could scarcely keep the gun +in my hands. But when the animal had been hit, and tried to escape +into the bushes, we dashed after it like wolves. And thus the God +helped us;--we remained alive in order to die to-morrow.' + +Tumara ceased speaking, and bowed his head, again stroking his right +ear with his right hand. The listeners were silent. In that moment of +strained attention they seemed to hear the splash of each individual +wave in the river, the swish of each branch in the wood, as it rocked +in the gale. Suddenly another sound rang out distinct from these +continuous sounds, making all faces brighten, and all heads turn in +the direction whence it came. + +Young Miore, Seltichan's son, bent down to his father, and whispered: + +'Father, our people are coming!' + +'Yes, they are coming!' + +The train was actually approaching. + +The old men remained seated, but the young ones slipped out of the +circle one after another, and assembled in groups at the edge of the +bushes, whence the whole procession, appearing at the rocky outlet to +the valley, could be better seen. + +A young girl rode in front on a dark yellow reindeer. Her clothes were +richly ornamented with silver, a fact which at once suggested that she +was a great favourite in her family. She held a long spear in her +hand, and wore a band, embroidered with beads, on her loose hair. As +she rode along, she cleared her path by cutting away the twigs and +gnarled branches which might catch from behind on the packsaddle or +her clothing. When she raised her spear the sunbeams played on the +edge of its steel surface in a fiery gleam, and hovered over her head +for a moment like a will-o'wisp; then, passing along her shining +silver scarf, they fell on her right hand, and finally faded away in +the grass of the river-islands. + +'Choka! Chogai!' the charming girl exclaimed. She was accompanied by +two black dogs, which kept running ahead, and then turning back to +examine and sniff at everything, leaving nothing unnoticed. Following +her in a long line came the laden reindeer, some of which were being +ridden by women, and children who were tied on to the top like tight +bundles. + +At the very end of the caravan two armed huntsmen, aided by dogs, +drove a herd of unladen reindeer with their calves. The noise, +clatter, and bustle, the frightened calling of the cows seeking their +calves which had gone astray in the confusion, the jingle of bells, +the rattle of clappers hanging from the necks of the animals in front, +the cries of the men calling to the herd or keeping it in order,--all +this whirlpool of seething, exuberant life filled the valley with a +resounding echo, and fell on the ear of the listener as a great +familiar song of the happiness and well-being of a free nomad +existence. + +The spectators' eyes glistened. Unable to restrain an outburst of +feeling, they began to describe the impressions made upon them by the +scenes and faces passing by like fleeting shadows. + +'See, there is old Nioren!' + +'What an energetic old woman!' + +'Formerly all the Tungus women were like that.' + +'So they say--' + +'Look how cleverly she manages her reindeer.' + +'That's one good thing, but they say that she bore a son to Seltichan +not long ago, and that's better still.' + +'There's nothing wonderful in that; Majantylan's wife is older, and +she also bore--' + +'Hush! Look, there is Sala, the old man's daughter-in-law, about whom +they sing songs.' + +'But is she not worthy of them?' + +'Yes, indeed!' + +'You may chatter away, but if Miore hears you, he will give it you!' + +'What can he do to us? I am not afraid of him.' + +'Look,--look!--Laubzal!--Zleci!' + +'Actually!--What a wild reindeer!--They needn't have put a little boy +on it!' + +'He's a plucky lad! Look!--The old man will be delighted with him!' + +'And Chun-Me!' + +'Ah! Chun-Me! Chun-Me!' several sighed, their glances seeking the +girl with the steel-coloured fringe on her head. + +'They say that the Kniaz wants to win her for his son.' + +'Eh, the old man won't give him his favourite daughter,--not he!' + +When Seltichan's eldest son rode by,--a famous hunter, commonly known +by the name of 'Sparkling Ice,'--conversation was hushed out of +respect to him. + +And when the last reindeer of the caravan had disappeared into the +bushes, and the branches closed swinging behind it, Seltichan rose +from his seat and went away, taking leave of the company with a slight +nod. This was to indicate that he was expecting them all to come to +him shortly. + +That evening there was a crowd round the old man's tent, for nearly +all the temporary inhabitants of the valley were present. The host +gave orders for several reindeer to be killed, and welcomed his +guests. With the light-heartedness of true Tungus, they forgot their +sufferings in satisfying their hunger after their long fast, and began +to dance and join in cheerful songs. + +The old men sitting by the fire watched the younger ones with +enjoyment, and beat time with their heads, repeating the refrains. + +'What do you think, Oltungaba, will the God withdraw his punishing +hand, and allow joy to return to the mountains?' Seltichan asked, +turning to one of the guests, the old man who was as dark as copper, +and as wrinkled as moss. + +'Our life, Seltichan, is a shadow falling upon the water,' Oltungaba +answered meditatively. + + * * * * * + +The following morning the people in the valley awoke in an unusually +solemn mood. The day proclaimed itself rich in events. The weather was +exquisite, the sky clear and blue, without a trace of cloud. + +Having assembled at the conference, the older and prominent members of +families took their places in the front row, the younger ones behind +them, and the women and children still further off, beyond the edge of +the circle. Oltungaba, yielding to numerous entreaties, walked into +the centre, and bowing, said: + +'Why do you ask this of me, regardless of my old age?' + +'To whom else can we turn?' + +'There are distinguished shamans who are younger.' + +'Oh, Oltungaba, who would dare to prophesy in your presence?' was +asked from all sides. + +The old man was silent, and looked distrustingly at the excited +assembly. + +'You hesitate,--when, maybe, the last day has come for many?' + +'I am not thinking of myself, but calling to mind the ancient customs. +Who will interpret my language to you? A difficult time demands a +difficult language, and a painful time a painful language. And why +arouse danger unnecessarily? If no brave man is found, must I die?' + +'Let us all die! Surely, Oltungaba, you wish us well? We are +resolved.' + +'Then let it be so,' he assented, after a short moment's thought. + +Two of the most famous shamans offered him a shaman's cloak with the +long fringe, and a number of metal amulets and musical instruments. +Then they smoothed out the old man's hair, and placed a horned iron +crown on his head. An elderly Tungus, in attendance on the shaman, was +drying a drum at the fire meanwhile. When perfectly dry and taut, he +tested its elasticity by a blow with a small mallet. The well-known +mournful sound stirred the echoes of the valley, and interrupted the +talking. A white reindeer skin, with the head turned towards the +south, was then spread in the middle of the circle. The old man sat +down on it, and lighting his pipe, swallowed the smoke, and washed it +down with water. Then he poured out the rest of the water to the four +quarters of the globe, and turning his face to the sun, fell into a +state of complete torpor. He sat thus for a long while with bowed +head, his hair falling into his eyes, and his look fixed on the +blinding white of the mountain tops. At length a shiver ran through +his body, followed by a violent sob. The shivering and sobs increased +by degrees until they passed into incessant convulsions and groans, in +part feigned, in part real. The spectators could be heard sobbing +also. + +An old woman dropped down in a fit. + +At the same moment a fleeting, dark shadow fell on the ground close to +the shaman: an eagle was hovering between him and the sun. A piercing +cry rent the air, and the people bent like grass before the gale. + +Who cried? The shaman or the eagle? + +No one knew. + +'It is bad, it is bad,' the people murmured. + +'Hush!' + +The drum sounded several times with a deep and mournful echo, as the +crowd was frightened into silence.--The eagle flew away into the +distance. + +Once more there was stillness, interrupted only by the shaman's +muttering. After a while isolated sounds, coming, as it seemed, from +the distant wood and depths of the mountain clefts, began to mingle, +like the murmur of a swarm of bees, or the twitter of birds calling to +one another. Then Oltungaba shook his bells. By degrees these sounds +grew louder, and came nearer, until they passed away in the roar of +the waterfall and the splash of the rain which was now falling in +torrents. Yet deep and painful sighs, repeated more and more +frequently, could be heard above the rush of the water. Oltungaba +suddenly raised the drum above his head. Trembling violently, and +covered with the pelting hail, he began to utter frightened sounds, +like a sheep chased by a wolf. Then, all at once, throwing his hand +into the soft reindeer skin, he became silent, but continued to +tremble. + +'Oh, Goloron!' the shaman groaned, hiding his face with his hands. + +And there was stillness once more. Nothing was heard but the shaman's +sobs and indistinct mutterings, accompanied by the beating of the +drum. Above these sounds rose the intermingled cries of eagles, hawks, +crows, and lapwings, which appeared to be circling in flights round +the mountain tops. Their shrieking and cawing alternated with the +shaman's unintelligible incantations. It almost seemed as if they +foresaw some dreadful event, and were hastening to bring news of it in +advance to the lords of the erial world. + +By degrees the incantations became more distinct, the words more +intelligible, till finally the first strophe of a chant burst from +the shaman's lips. + +'Do ye hear the roar of the sea?' + +'Ah yes!' answered the attendant. + +'I who am the first in creation--' + +'Verily,' the attendant replied. + +'I, the first among the chosen--' + +'In truth,' the attendant repeated. + +'Let them come blazing, like the shield of the sun!' + +'Let them come!' + +'He himself like the clouds,--the fiery raven precedes him--' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'I am thy son. I, wretched one, walking the earth, implore thee!' + +'I implore!' + +'Aid my weak strength in this stony path.' + +'Oh, aid!' + +'Oh, drum, my herald, and wind, my wings!' + +'Aye, verily--' + +'I approach you, encircled by winged and restless--' + +'Winged and restless--' + +'Their claws are open, their throats are extended--' + +'Extended--' + +'The mountains groan, the earth trembles within--' + +'Ah!--' + +'And I go ever fearfully, yet unhindered--' + +'Protect me, my lord, I cry to thee--' + +'For I am from the suffering nation!' + +'I am indeed.' + +'Mighty helper, angry, threatening saviour, have pity!' + +'We pray!--' + +'If I err, let me not perish on the pathless track!' + +'Let me not!' + +'Save the erring, lead me.' + +'We go--' + +Growing more and more animated, the old man stood up, and began to +dance. + +The dance resembled a march. The shaman described what he met in his +path in fantastic language, and by gestures. The attendant followed +him, repeating his words, and, at moments, supporting him by the +elbow. Thus they came to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly +the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in silence, and then sang: + +'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions below the earth, ruling +over the air, sickness, and death itself.--' + +'Oh, Etygar!' + +'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge wings, thou, who shelterest +from destruction--' + +'Iniany!' + +'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power of second-sight!' + +'And thou, Normanda, whose piercing cry turns the heart to ice!' + +'And thou, iron-feathered Wavadabaki! And thou, whom we only know by +thy shadow!--' + +'I ask what you may require, and what is the cause of your anger? +Restrain your ministers, withhold your persecutions. Know ye not that +we perish, and if we perish, who will prepare your offering?' + +'Who will?' + +'To you I come defenceless, entangled in a long cloak. My head is bent +with years, my open eyes cannot see far.' + +'It is even so!' chimed in the attendant, who had been silent +hitherto, not daring to repeat all these awful incantations. + +'Going to the sea, and returning to the sea, I am a Nomad--' + +'Yea, verily--' + +'Ye like dark reindeer, ye like dappled reindeer; have they ceased to +be pleasing?' + +'Have they ceased?' + +'Ha! Ha! Ha! When you dance, do you forget us, and being merry, do you +shun us?' + +'Is it, perhaps, rich furs, silver, glass ornaments, coloured dresses, +sweet cakes, or vodka that you desire?' + +'That cannot be!' exclaimed the attendant. + +'Fools! Something, were it even everything, must be taken for the +powerful!' + +'Therefore choose a young girl from among us, and we will dedicate +her.' + +There was silence. + +'Oh, fiery Goloron, feared on the earth, proclaiming--' + +Again there was silence. + +Oltungaba beat the drum, and the strokes rolled like thunder between +the awful words, which, uttered haltingly, seemed to come from a +distance. + +'They give the scraps to the dogs! Let the people humble themselves, +and an obedient man be found; otherwise they will fade like the +morning mist.' + +'O-oh! How can we possibly give anything, possessing nothing?' + +'I will therefore tell you how it was in former days. Let it be he who +is proud, he who is rich, whose sons are famed for their shooting, and +daughters for their beauty; whom all love, whose thoughts are kind, +and counsels wise, whose heart is brave, whose hand is open, whose +soul seeks good. We wish to see the bewildered terror, the pale face, +the tears of separation.' + +Oltungaba became silent, and let the drum fall. + +'No!' he said, after a moment's reflection, 'I will not disclose the +name; possibly they may say; "Oltungaba is jealous." Yet what is human +blood to me? A shaman needs nothing but his drum.--I have said +everything.' + +He concluded the rest of the ceremony rapidly, and took his place +among the spectators, gloomy and exhausted. Tea was offered to him and +the more honoured guests. The young men began to kill reindeer for the +others, and to put the cauldron on the fire without delay. Yet none of +this was accompanied by the gaiety and animation which usually +prevails among the Tungus on such occasions. Those present talked with +great restraint, lowering their voices almost to a whisper. They +behaved with marked politeness to the family of Seltichan, and took +pains not even to look at their host. + +Seltichan was as calm and friendly as usual, as if he had not noticed +anything, and even tried to start a conversation with Oltungaba. But +the shaman preserved a gloomy silence. Then Seltichan began to relate +aloud how he had spent that year beyond the mountains, throwing in +various hunting anecdotes which he told with so much humour that he +was soon surrounded by cheered and even smiling faces. + +Only his favourite son, Miore, who was standing behind him, looked +gloomily at everyone. + +The frame of mind usual before a meal slowly gained the ascendancy. +And when the pieces of savoury meat were taken from the cauldron, +everyone had quite forgotten to be sad. Then Seltichan, forsaken by +his listeners, became depressed at once, and Miore, watching his +father attentively, grew gloomier still. + +Unable to restrain himself longer, the lad burst forth angrily to +Oltungaba, as he approached: 'I can see that you really want to make +away with the old man.' + +The latter regarded him with angry surprise. + +'You are young and ignorant--' + +'But nothing shall come of this,' Miore answered, and withdrew, +shaking his head. + +This short conversation did not escape other people's attention. + +By the end of the banquet Seltichan had regained his usual amiability, +as became a host who was entertaining the second day running without +regard to his herds. But on returning to his tent he no longer +concealed his anxiety, and sat meditatively before the fire, paying no +heed to anything; he did not even see the supper his wife placed +before him. + +'Eat, Seltichan; do not grieve, my lord; I am your faithful servant!' +she said at last, shaking him by the shoulder and looking at him +affectionately. + +The old man turned enquiringly towards his wife, and smiled. He ate +heartily and with relish, for, according to Tungus ideas, no event in +life is great enough to deprive a fat reindeer of its savouriness. + +The following morning Seltichan awoke earlier than the rest, and +possibly for the first time since becoming head of the family, he did +not stir the half-extinguished fire, but, without waking anyone, +quietly escaped from the tent. + +The sun was shining, although it had not yet risen above the +mountains. The dawn had disappeared, and it was broad daylight. Here +and there golden lines bordered the blue shadows of the clefts in the +snow-clad mountains. But meanwhile in the valleys, man and Nature were +still asleep:--the wood slept, wreathed in mist; the embers glowed +faintly on the cool hearths; the reindeer lay on the moss in the +bushes, chewing the cud. The only sounds were the gurgle of the river, +and the chuckle of the mountain pheasants, which were leaving their +hidden roosting places, and flying to the tree tops. + +The old man gazed at the familiar valley long and attentively. +Suddenly he trembled. He could see a man standing before one of the +tents in the distance; he also seemed to be looking at the surrounding +country. Seltichan's keen glance recognized Oltungaba, but the tent, +before which he was standing, belonged to the Kniaz. The old man's +face clouded, and he went home. + +'Get up, children!' he cried. 'Heh! Chun-Me! light the fire! You've +had enough sleep for a day like this!' + +They all sprang up frightened, and began to busy themselves. The old +man looked on with pleasure while the work was silently shared in the +order established by centuries. The women put the tea-kettle and +cauldron on the fire, and carried the bedding out of doors; the men, +after examining their thongs and arms, prepared to go into the wood to +call the herd together. The bustle stopped when the tea was ready. +They all sat down gravely round a plank serving as table, but as the +host was silent, no one dared to talk, although all, not excepting old +Nioren, were excited. The young women and girls looked at their father +in unspeakable fear. Miore was sad and angry, but 'Sparkling Ice' +regarded the old man with respect, not unmixed with a certain degree +of curiosity. + +After drinking his tea, Seltichan ate something, and lighted his pipe. +Then he said to his youngest son: + +'Go out, boy, and call the people.' + +Miore did not stir from his seat. + +'Do you hear?' + +Not until the command had been repeated threateningly did the lad rise +and begin to buckle on his things. But, instead of going, he suddenly +threw himself at his father's feet. + +'Are you determined? Are you determined? Oh, father do not leave us! +The family will never agree to it. I was talking to the young men +yesterday, and they said: "Rather than that, let all our reindeer die, +and we will live by industry." But if they do decide on that in the +end,--let the fat Kniaz be killed!' + +'You are foolish, my boy,' the old man said with a smile. 'You do not +know yet what I shall do. I wish to see the people.--Go, I tell you!' + +'Oh, my lord, why do you deceive us with hope?' + +'Don't talk nonsense.--I have already told you--' + +'They will never let us off; it would be better to escape secretly.' + +'I have already told you--' the old man repeated obstinately. + +'Oh Father, let us escape, let us escape!' they all begged, stretching +out their hands towards him. But the old man thrust away Miore, the +most impetuous of them all, with a kick in the chest, and cried: + +'Cursed birds of ill-omen, cease from breaking my heart!' + +'I would like to know,' said 'Sparkling Ice,' who had been gloomy and +silent hitherto, 'why Miore does not obey when our father commands +him?' + +The lad, who was lying as he had fallen, rose, and left the tent in +silence. + + * * * * * + +Once more the people, from small to great, were assembled at the +column in the valley. The armed men were dressed in their best +attire,--various kinds of fur, which hung in long fringes. The sun +shone on their ornaments as they took their seats in small bands +according to families. They amused themselves, wrestled, and in no way +betrayed the reason for coming there. + +The members of Seltichan's family were distinguished among the rest by +their choice arms and rich clothing, as well as by their strength, +skill, and the proud independance of their bearing. Seltichan himself, +who occupied the seat of honour among them, watched everything that +took place with great attention. + +'The tribe is enfeebled, and dying out,' he said from time to time. +'Was it not so with the family of Tumara? Where is Leljel, who was no +less flourishing than we? Where is Nilken?' + +'If you leave us, we also shall be enfeebled and dispersed,' his +family answered him. + +'"Sparkling Ice" will remain after me;--he is not my son, but my +comrade!' + +The grief of Seltichan's family on hearing this made the old man +hesitate as he looked at them. + +Meanwhile the excitement prevailing in the assembly increased, and +strange rumours were whispered abroad. Somehow it came about that the +members of Seltichan's family became more and more isolated from the +rest, and were greeted with silence when they approached. Miore and +some of the other young men were not disconcerted by this, however, +and continued to mix freely with the crowd. + +In the evening they all dispersed, but the excitement did not die +down, and was only transferred to the tents and the camp fires. People +sat talking in low voices until late into the night, alarmed when they +saw anything unusual. Several even sharpened their spears. 'A man like +that does not die without something happening,' they said. + +On the third day they all came fully armed. Many of the young warriors +brought their spears with them, and stood leaning on them outside the +circle. The deliberations did not begin, but the excited whispers +which passed round the crowd showed the passionate, though +restrained, feeling. All eyes were continually turned towards +Seltichan, who was sitting splendidly dressed among his sorrowing +family, he alone calm and cheerful. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' whispered several. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' asked the Kniaz, going from +one to the other. + +'Well, and what then?' they asked him at one meeting. 'Perhaps you +think it will be easier to get hold of the daughter when the old man +is not there? You need not expect it; "Sparkling Ice" will never give +her to you. He has not forgotten that little affair.' + +'What affair? May all my reindeer die, and may I stay in one place to +the end of my life, like a Russian in a wooden house, if that is +true,' swore the Kniaz. 'Oltungaba is not a man of that sort!' + +'Oltungaba drinks vodka!' + +The Kniaz became confused, and did not know what to answer at once. +'Idiots!' he finally exclaimed, and stroking both ears, he ran off to +carry his complaints elsewhere. + +All this increased the excitement, and caused a great deal of talk, +which ultimately reached Miore's ears through Seltichan's kinsmen. +'Father, they are deceiving you,' the youth exclaimed passionately, +going up to him. 'You are willing to die, but it is all the doing of +the Kniaz; he has bribed Oltungaba! He thinks there will be no one to +equal him when you are not here! Father, I beg you, escape quietly. +Our tents are struck, the young men are ready, the reindeer saddled; +we shall be on the mountains before they have noticed anything. And +even should they do so, are we not your children?' + +Seltichan's face clouded. + +'Let Oltungaba be summoned,--let him be tried!' he cried, rising. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' exclaimed many of Seltichan's family. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' was heard on all sides. + +The grey-haired old man entered the circle reluctantly, looking as +dark as moss. + +'Is it true that you have taken a bribe from the Kniaz? That out of +regard to him you have deceived us?' they all cried. + +'Wait a little; let one speak! Don't you see that I have only two +ears, so that a hundred voices only bewilder me?' + +'Then let one speak!' + +The head of one of the most distinguished families, who was very +highly respected, stepped forward, and sitting down, began to ask +questions. + +'Did you take bribes?' + +'Why shouldn't I take them? Don't I live on men's bounty? Haven't both +you and Seltichan given me some too? The Kniaz also gave one, but he +didn't ask for anything, and I promised him nothing. Is it not a sin +to suspect it? How is it possible to say such a thing? The man will +die! Ask his people.' + +Witnesses were summoned, and the Kniaz was summoned. They all stood in +the centre of the angry circle, looking rather frightened, but the +enquiry led to nothing. The only thing that was clear was that +Oltungaba had visited the Kniaz in his tent, as he had visited others, +and had profitted by his liberality. + +Stroking his ears with both hands, and swearing with quite unusual +fervour, the Kniaz talked at extraordinary length of his +disinterestedness, his merits, his zeal in safeguarding the interests +of the tribe with the government, and, above all, of his +sacrifices--in paying taxes. + +Oltungaba spoke scornfully, and in monosyllables. + +'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said finally, turning to the old +man. 'Have you forgotten how I loved and taught you when you were a +boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you old legends, and +about distant countries? Was I not your father's comrade,--his friend +when you were still a little child, crawling on the ground? And +later, when you grew up, did I not boast of you, and you, did you not +listen to my advice? Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among us? +Who spoke wisely and courteously?--You were always a true Tungus, +Seltichan; we all know that.--Was it the worst who were offered in +olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to all the tribes that I +spoke the truth. I said what a voice from heaven commanded me to say! +May my face be turned round to my back, and my body dried up like +tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, and my muscles grow weak like +badly dried yarn, and--may my hand burn, as the heart burns from +unkindness'--here with a rapid movement he put his hand into the +flame. + +They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the old man away from the fire. + +'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive me,' he said with +emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect evil. I will go,--I had already +determined to do so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, you +would be forced to go,--so would it be worth while? There is always +one rotten egg in a nest.--Can a man be a man without reindeer? What +is a Tungus without other Tungus?--I leave you, but you will not +forget me!--Good-bye!--May your herds increase! May your children grow +to manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May there be no lack of food +in your cauldrons, of powder in your horns, and of goodness in your +hearts!--I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, as the rays of the +setting sun.--I am going now; I take leave of you, my people! +--Farewell!' + +With a quick movement he tore the figured 'dalys' on his chest, and +plunged a knife up to the hilt into his heart. + +He stood for a moment, his fading glance passing round them all,--then +staggered, and fell. + +A single great sigh burst from the crowd. + +Oltungaba hastily knelt down beside the dying man, uncovered his +breast, and placing his right hand near the wound, stretched his left +towards the sun, crying: + +'Oh, thou God ruling all things, help us,--shield us! We are not the +last, and not the lowest, if we can send forth hearts like these!' + +'Hearts like these!' groaned the crowd. + +All, even the stout Kniaz, felt at that moment as if their hearts beat +with the same readiness for sacrifice as that which was growing cold +under Oltungaba's hand. + +'He was a warrior,' whispered the shaman after a moment, and picking +up the 'dalys,' he threw it over the face, quivering in its death +agony. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] 'Kniaz': Russian 'Soltys' = village mayor. + + + +PRINTED AT + +THE HOLYWELL PRESS + +OXFORD + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +Uncommon spellings in original retained. + +Missing and incorrect punctuation fixed. + +Hyphenated and non-hyphenated of same words retained as in original. + + P. iii: "Orford" changed to "Oxford" + P. 8: pronunciation key ditto marks changed to "English" + P. 55: "months had passd" changed to "months had passed". + P. 81: "couse" changed to "course" + P. 172: "asserverated" changed to "asseverated" + P. 180: "Then let is be so" changed to "Then let it be so" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + +***** This file should be named 35456-8.txt or 35456-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/5/35456/ + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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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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: Tales by Polish Authors + +Author: Various + +Translator: Else C. M. Benecke + +Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h3>TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS</h3> + + +<h4>London<br /> +SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> +<br /> + +New York<br /> +LONGMANS, GREEN & Co.<br /> +<span class="smcap">Fourth Avenue and 30th Street</span><br /><br /><br /></h4> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + + + + + +<h1><br />TALES<br /></h1> +<h2>BY<br /></h2> +<h1>POLISH AUTHORS<br /><br /></h1> + +<h3>HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ<br /> +STEFAN ŻEROMSKI<br /> +ADAM SZYMAŃSKI<br /> +WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI<br /><br /></h3> + +<h4>TRANSLATED BY<br /></h4> + +<h2>ELSE C. M. BENECKE<br /><br /><br /></h2> + +<h4><ins title="Transciber's Note: original reads 'Orford'">Oxford</ins><br /> + +B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET<br /> + +1915<br /></h4> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> +<h2>TRANSLATOR'S NOTE</h2> + + +<p>Of the contemporary Polish authors represented +in this volume only Henryk Sienkiewicz is well +known in England. Although the works of Stefan +Żeromski, Adam Szymański, and Wacław Sieroszewski +are widely read in Poland, none have as +yet appeared in English, so far as the present +translator is aware. 'Srul—from Lubartów' is +generally considered one of the most striking +of Adam Szymański's Siberian 'Sketches.' The +author writes from personal experience, having +himself been banished to Siberia for a number +of years. The same can be said of Wacław +Sieroszewski; during the fifteen years spent in +Siberia as a political exile, he made a study of +some of the native tribes, especially the Yakut +and Tungus, and has written a great deal on this +subject. Stefan Żeromski is also one of the most +distinguished modern Polish novelists; several of +his books have been translated into French and +German.</p> + +<p>The translator is under a deep obligation to +the authors, MM. Sienkiewicz, Szymański, and +Żeromski, for kindly allowing her to publish these +tales in English, and to Mr. J. H. Retinger, +Secretary of the Polish Bureau in London, for +authorising the same on behalf of M. Sieroszewski.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'> +E. C. M. B.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Henryk Sienkiewicz: '<i>Bartek the Conqueror</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Stefan Żeromski: '<i>Twilight</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">'<i>Temptation</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Adam Szymański: '<i>Srul—from Lubartów</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Wacław Sieroszewski: '<i>In Autumn</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center">'<i>In Sacrifice to the Gods</i>'</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> +<h2>POLISH PRONUNCIATION:</h2> + + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">After k, rz = English sh.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">sz = English sh</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">cz = English ch</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ł = English w</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">w = English v</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>BARTEK THE CONQUEROR</h2> + +<h3>HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ</h3> + + + + + +<h3>CHAPTER I</h3> + + +<p>My hero's name was Bartek Słowik<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>; but +owing to his habit of staring when spoken +to, the neighbours called him 'Bartek Goggle-Eyes.' +Indeed, he had little in common with +nightingales, and his intellectual qualities and +truly childish <i>naïveté</i> won him the further nickname +of 'Bartek the Blockhead.' This last was +the most popular, in fact, the only one handed +down to history, though Bartek bore yet a fourth,—an +official—name. Since the Polish words +'man' and 'nightingale'<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> present no difference +to a German ear, and the Germans love to translate +Barbarian Proper names into a more cultured +language in the cause of civilization, the following +conversation took place when he was being +entered as a recruit.</p> + +<p>'What is your name?' the officer asked Bartek.</p> + +<p>'Słowik.' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Szloik<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> <i>Ach, ja, gut.</i>'</p> + +<p>And the officer wrote down 'Man.'</p> + +<p>Bartek came from the village of Pognębin, a +name given to a great many villages in the +Province of Posen and in other parts of Poland. +First of all there was he himself, not to mention +his land, his cottage and two cows, his own +piebald horse, and his wife, Magda. Thanks to +this combination of circumstances he was able to +live comfortably, and according to the maxim +contained in the verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">To him whom God would bless He gives, of course,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">A wife called Magda and a piebald horse.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>In fact, all his life he had taken whatever +Providence sent without troubling about it. But +just now Providence had ordained war, and Bartek +was not a little upset at this. For news had +come that the Reserves would be called up, and +that it would be necessary to leave his cottage +and land, and entrust it all to his wife's care. +People at Pognębin were poor enough already. +Bartek usually worked at the factory in the winter +and helped his household on in this way;—but +what would happen now? Who could know +when the war with the French would end? +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<p>Magda, when she had read through the papers, +began to swear:</p> + +<p>'May they be damned and die themselves! +May they be blinded!—Though you are a fool—yet +I am sorry for you. The French give no +quarter; they will chop off your head, I dare say.'</p> + +<p>Bartek felt that his wife spoke the truth. He +feared the French like fire, and was sorry for +himself on this account. What had the French +done to him? What was he going after there,—why +was he going to that horrible strange land +where not a single friendly soul was to be found? +He knew what life at Pognębin was like,—well, +it was neither easy nor difficult, but just such as +it was. But now he was being told to go away, +although he knew that it was better to be here +than anywhere else. Still, there was no help for +it;—such is fate. Bartek embraced his wife, and +the ten-year old Franek; spat, crossed himself, +and went out of the cottage, Magda following +him. They did not take very tender leave of one +another. They both sobbed, he repeating, 'Come, +come, hush!' and went out into the road. There +they realized that the same thing which had +happened to them had happened to all Pognębin, +for the whole village was astir, and the road was +obstructed by traffic. As they walked to the +station, women, children, old men and dogs +followed them. Everyone's heart was heavy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +but a few smoked their pipes with an air of +indifference, and some were already intoxicated. +Others were singing with hoarse voices:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'Skrzynecki<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> died, alas!</span><br /> +<span class="i2">No more his voice is heard;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">His hand, bedeckt with rings,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">No more shall wield the sword,'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>while one or two of the Germans from Pognębin +sang 'Die Wacht am Rhein' out of sheer fright. +All that motley and many-coloured crowd,—including +policemen with glittering bayonets,—moved +in file towards the end of the village with +shouts, bustle, and confusion. Women clung to +their 'warriors′' necks and wept; one old +woman showed her yellow teeth and waved her +arms in the air; another cried: 'May the Lord +remember our tears!' There were cries of: +'Franek! Kaśka! Józek! good-bye!' Dogs +barked, the church bell rang, the priest even said +the prayers for the dying, since not one of those +now going to the station would return. The war +had claimed them all, but the war would not give +them back. The plough would grow rusty in the +field, for Pognębin had declared war against the +French. Pognębin could not acquiesce in the +supremacy of Napoleon III, and took to heart the +question of the Spanish succession. The last +sounds of the bell hovered over the crowd, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> + +was already falling out of line. Heads were +bared as they passed the shrine. The light dust +rose up from the road, for the day was dry and +fine. Along both sides of the road the ripening +corn, heavy in the ear, rustled and bowed in the +gentle gusts of wind. The larks were twittering +in the blue sky, and each warbled as if fearing he +might be forgotten.</p> + +<p>At the station there was a still greater crowd, +and more noise and confusion! Here were men +called in from Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, +from Wywłaszczyniec, from Niedola, and Mizerów. +The station walls were covered with proclamations +in which war was declared in the Name +of God and the Fatherland: the 'Landwehr' +was setting forth to defend menaced parents, +wives and children, cottages and fields. It was +evident that the French bore a special grudge +against Pognębin, Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda +Dolna, Wywłaszczyniec, Niedola, and Mizerów. +Such, at least, was the impression produced on +those who read the placards. Fresh crowds were +continually assembling in front of the station. In +the waiting-room the smoke from the men's pipes +filled the air, and hid the placards. It was difficult +to make oneself understood in the noise, for +everyone was running, shouting, and screaming. +On the platform orders were given in German. +They sounded strangely brief, harsh, and decisive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bell rang. The powerful breath of the +engine was heard in the distance coming nearer,—growing +more distinct. With it the war itself +seemed to be coming nearer.</p> + +<p>A second bell,—and a shudder ran through +every heart. A woman began to scream. 'Jadom, +Jadom!' She was evidently calling to her Adam, +but the other women took up the word and cried, +'Jadą.'<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> A shrill voice among them added: 'The +French are coming!' and in the twinkling of an +eye a panic seized not only the women, but also +the future heroes of Sedan. The crowd swerved. +At that moment the train entered the station. +Caps and uniforms were seen to be at all the +windows. Soldiers seemed to swarm like ants. +Dark, oblong bodies of cannon showed grimly on +some of the trucks, on others there was a forest +of bayonets. The soldiers had, apparently, been +ordered to sing, for the whole train shook with +their strong masculine voices. Strength and +power seemed in some way to issue from that +train, the end of which was not even in sight.</p> + +<p>The Reservists on the platform began to fall in, +but anyone who could lingered in taking leave. +Bartek swung his arms as if they were the sails +of a windmill, and stared.</p> + +<p>'Well, Magda, good-bye!' +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Oh, my poor fellow!'</p> + +<p>'You will never see me again!'</p> + +<p>'I shall never see you again!'</p> + +<p>'There's no help for it!'</p> + +<p>'May the Mother of God protect and shelter +you!'</p> + +<p>'Good-bye. Take care of the cottage.'</p> + +<p>The woman embraced him in tears.</p> + +<p>'May God guide you!'</p> + +<p>The last moment had come. The whistle and +the women's crying and sobbing drowned everything +else. 'Good-bye! Good-bye!' But the +soldiers were already separated from the motley +crowd, and formed a dark, solid mass, moving +forward in square columns with the certainty and +regularity of clockwork. The order was given: +'Take your seats!' Columns and squares broke +asunder from the centre, marched with heavy +strides towards the carriages, and jumped into +them. The engine, now breathing like a dragon +and exhaling streams of vapour, sent forth +wreaths of grey smoke. The women cried and +sobbed still louder; some of them hid their eyes +with their handkerchiefs, others waved their hands +towards the carriages; sobbing voices repeated +the name of husband and son.</p> + +<p>'Good-bye, Bartek!' Magda cried from amongst +them. 'Take care of yourself!—May the Mother +of God—Good-bye! Oh, God!—'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<p>'And take care of the cottage,' answered +Bartek.</p> + +<p>The line of trucks suddenly trembled, the carriages +knocked against one another,—and went +forward.</p> + +<p>'And remember you have a wife and child,' +Magda cried, running after the train. 'Good-bye, +in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost! Good-bye——'</p> + +<p>On went the train, faster and faster, bearing +away the warriors of Pognębin, of both Krzywdas, +of Niedola, and Mizerów.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER II</h3> + + +<p>Magda, with the crowd of women, returned +crying to Pognębin in one direction; in the +other the train, bristling with bayonets, rushed +into the grey distance, and Bartek with it. There +seemed to be no end to the long cloud of smoke; +Pognębin was also scarcely visible. Only the +lime-tree showed faintly, and the church tower, +glistening as the rays of the sun played upon it. +Soon the lime-tree also disappeared, and the gilt +cross resembled a shining speck. As long as that +speck continued to shine Bartek kept his eyes +fixed upon it, but when that vanished too there +were no bounds to the poor fellow's grief. A +sense of great weakness came over him and he +felt lost. So he began to look at the Sergeant, +for, after the Almighty, he already felt there was +no one greater than he. The Sergeant clearly +knew what would become of Bartek now; he +himself knew nothing, understood nothing. The +Sergeant sat on the bench, and, supporting his +rifle between his knees, he lighted his pipe. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +smoke rose in clouds, hiding his grave, discontented +face from time to time. Not Bartek's eyes +alone watched his face; all the eyes from every +corner of the carriage were watching it. At Pognębin +or Krzywda every Bartek or Wojtek was his +own master, each had to think about himself, and +for himself, but now the Sergeant would do this +for him. He would command them to look to the +right, and they would look to the right; he would +command them to look to the left, and they would +look to the left. The question, 'Well, and what +is to become of us?' stood in each man's eyes, +but he knew as much as all of them put together, +and also what was expected of them. If only +one were able by glances to draw some command +or explanation from him! But the men were +afraid to ask direct, as war was now drawing +near with all the chances of being court-martialled. +What was permitted and was not +permitted, and by whom, was unknown. They, +at least, did not know, and the sound of such +a word as 'Kriegsgericht,' though they did not +understand it, frightened them very much.</p> + +<p>They felt that this Sergeant had still more +power over them now than at the manœuvres in +Posen; he it was who knew everything, and +without him nothing would be done. He seemed +meanwhile to be finding his rifle growing heavy, +for he pushed it towards Bartek to hold for him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +Bartek reached out hastily for it, held his breath, +stared, and looked at the Sergeant as he would at +a rainbow, yet derived little comfort from that. +Ah, there must surely be bad news, for even the +Sergeant looked worried. At the stations one +heard singing and shouting; the Sergeant gave +orders, bustled about and swore, as if to show his +importance. But let the train once move on, and +everyone, including himself, was silent. Owing +to him the world now seemed to wear two aspects, +the one clear and intelligible—that represented by +home and family—the other dark, yes, absolutely +dark—that of France and war. He effectually +revived the spirits of the Pognębin soldiers, not +so much by his personality, as that each man +carried him at the back of his mind. And since +each soldier carried his knapsack on his shoulder, +with his cloak and other warlike accoutrements, +the whole load was extremely heavy.</p> + +<p>All the while the train was shaking, roaring, +and rushing along into space. Now a station +where they added fresh carriages and engines; +now another where helmets, cannon, horses, +bayonets, and companies of Lancers were to be +seen. The fine evening drew in slowly. The sun +sank in a deep crimson, and a number of light +flying clouds spread from the edge of the darkening +sky across to the west. The train, stopping +frequently at the stations to pick up passengers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +and carriages, shook and rushed forward into +that crimson brightness, as into a sea of blood. +From the open carriage, in which Bartek and the +Pognębin troops were seated, one could see villages, +hamlets and little towns, church steeples, +storks—looking like hooks, as they stood on one +leg on their nests,—isolated cottages, and cherry +orchards. Everything was passed rapidly, and +everything looked crimson. Meanwhile the soldiers, +growing bolder, began to whisper to one +another, because the Sergeant, having laid his +kit bag under his head, had fallen asleep, with his +clay pipe between his teeth. Wojtek Gwizdała, a +peasant from Pognębin, sitting beside Bartek, +jogged his elbow: 'Bartek, listen!'</p> + +<p>Bartek turned a face with pensive, wide open +eyes towards him.</p> + +<p>'Why do you look like a calf going to be +slaughtered?' Gwizdała whispered. 'True, you, +poor beggar, are going to be slaughtered, that's +certain!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, my word!' groaned Bartek.</p> + +<p>'Are you afraid?' Gwizdała asked.</p> + +<p>'Why shouldn't I be afraid?'</p> + +<p>The crimson in the sky was growing deeper +still, so Gwizdała pointed towards it and went on +whispering:</p> + +<p>'Do you see that brightness? Do you know, +Blockhead, what that is? That's blood. Here's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +Poland,—our frontier, say,—do you understand? +But there in the distance, where it's so bright, +that's France itself.'</p> + +<p>'And shall we be there soon?'</p> + +<p>'Why are you in such a hurry? They say that +it's a terribly long way. But never fear, the +French will come out to meet us.'</p> + +<p>Bartek's Pognębin brain began to work laboriously. +After some moments he asked: 'Wojtek.'</p> + +<p>'Yes?'</p> + +<p>'What sort of people are these Frenchmen?'</p> + +<p>Here Wojtek's wisdom suddenly became aware +of a pitfall into which it might be easier to tumble +headforemost than to come out again. He knew +that the French were the French. He had heard +something about them from old people, who had +related that they were always fighting with everyone; +he knew at least that they were very strange +people. But how could he explain this to Bartek +to make him understand how strange they were? +First of all, therefore, he repeated the question, +'What sort of people?'</p> + +<p>'Why, yes.'</p> + +<p>Now there were three nations known to Wojtek: +living in the centre were the Poles; on the +one side were the Russians, on the other the +Germans. But there were various kinds of Germans. +Preferring, therefore, to be clear rather +than accurate, he said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<p>'What sort of people are the French? How +can I tell you; they must be like the Germans, +only worse.'</p> + +<p>At which Bartek exclaimed: 'Oh, the low +vermin!'</p> + +<p>Up to that time he had had one feeling only +with regard to the French, and that was a feeling +of unspeakable fear. Henceforth this Prussian +Reservist cherished the hatred of a true patriot +towards them. But not feeling quite clear about +it all, he asked again: 'Then Germans will be +fighting Germans?'</p> + +<p>Here Wojtek, like a second Socrates, chose to +adopt a simile, and answered:</p> + +<p>'But doesn't your dog, Łysek, fight with my +Burek?'</p> + +<p>Bartek opened his mouth and looked at his +instructor for a moment: 'Ah! true.'</p> + +<p>'And the Austrians are Germans,' explained +Wojtek, 'and haven't they fought against us? +Old Swierzcz said that when he was in that war +Steinmetz used to shout: "On, boys, at the +Germans!" Only that's not so easy with the +French.'</p> + +<p>'Good God!'</p> + +<p>'The French have never been beaten in any +war. When they attack you, don't be afraid, +don't disgrace yourself. Each man is worth two +or three of us, and they wear beards like Jews.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +There are some as dark as the devil. Now that +you know what they are like, commend yourself +to God!'</p> + +<p>'Well, but then why do we run after them?' +Bartek asked in desperation.</p> + +<p>This philosophical remark was possibly not as +stupid as it appeared to Wojtek, who, evidently +influenced by official opinion, quickly had his +answer ready.</p> + +<p>'I would rather not have gone myself, but if +we don't run after them, they will run after us. +There's no help for it. You have read what the +papers say. It's against us peasants that they +bear the chief grudge. People say that they have +their eyes on Poland, because they want to +smuggle vodka out of the country, and the Government +won't allow it, and that's why there's +war. Now do you understand?'</p> + +<p>'I cannot understand,' Bartek said resignedly.</p> + +<p>'They are also as greedy for our women as a +dog for a bone,' Wojtek continued.</p> + +<p>'But surely they would respect Magda, for +example?'</p> + +<p>'They don't even respect age!'</p> + +<p>'Oh!' cried Bartek in a voice implying, 'If that +is so then I will fight!'</p> + +<p>In fact this seemed to him really too much. +Let them continue to smuggle vodka out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +Poland,—but let them dare to touch Magda! Our +friend Bartek now began to regard the whole war +from the standpoint of his own interests, and took +courage in the thought of how many soldiers and +cannon were going out in defence of Magda, who +was in danger of being outraged by the French. +He arrived at the conviction that there was +nothing for it but to go out against them.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the brightness had faded from the +sky, and it had grown dark. The carriages began +to rock violently on the uneven rails, and the +helmets and bayonets shook from right to left to +the rhythm of the rocking. Hour after hour +passed by. Millions of sparks flew from the +engine and crossed one another in the darkness, +serpentining in long golden lines. For a while +Bartek could not sleep. Like those sparks in the +wind, thoughts leapt into his mind about Magda, +about Pognębin, the French and the Germans. +He felt that though he would have liked to have +lain down on the bench on which he was sitting, +he could not do so. He fell asleep, it is true, but +it was a heavy, unrefreshing sleep, and he was at +once pursued by dreams. He saw his dog, Łysek, +fighting with Wojtek's Burek, till all their hair +was torn off. He was running for a stick to stop +them, when suddenly he saw something else: +sitting with his arm round Magda was a dark +Frenchman, as dark as the earth; but Magda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +was smiling contentedly. Some Frenchmen jeered +at Bartek, and pointed their fingers at him. In +reality it was the engine screaming, but it seemed +to him that the French were calling, 'Magda! +Magda! Magda!' 'Hold your tongue, thieves,' +Bartek shouted, 'leave my wife alone!' but they +continued calling 'Magda! Magda! Magda!' +Łysek and Burek started barking, and all Pognębin +cried out, 'Don't let your wife go!' Was he +bound, or what was the matter? No, he rushed +forward, tore at the cord and broke it, seized the +Frenchman by the head,—and suddenly—!</p> + +<p>Suddenly he was seized with severe pain, as +from a heavy blow. Bartek awoke and dragged +his feet to the ground. The whole carriage +awoke, and everyone asked, 'What has happened?' +In his sleep the unfortunate Bartek had +seized the Sergeant by the head. He stood up +immediately, as straight as a fiddle-string, two +fingers at his forehead; but the Sergeant waved +his hand, and shouted like mad:</p> + +<p>'Ach, Sie! beast of a Pole! I'll knock all the +teeth out of your head,—blockhead!'</p> + +<p>The Sergeant shouted until he was hoarse with +rage, and Bartek stood saluting all the while. +Some of the soldiers bit their lips in order not to +laugh, but they were half afraid, too. A parting +shot burst forth from the Sergeant's lips:</p> + +<p>'You Polish Ox! Ox from Podolia!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ultimately everything became quiet again. Bartek +sat back in his old place. He was conscious +of nothing but that his cheek was swollen, and, +as if playing him a trick, the engine kept repeating:</p> + +<p>'Magda! Magda! Magda!'</p> + +<p>He felt a heavy weight of sorrow upon him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER III</h3> + + +<p>It was morning!</p> + +<p>The fitful, pale light fell on faces sleepy and +worn with a long restless night. The soldiers +were sleeping in discomfort on the seats, some +with their heads thrown forward, others with +their noses in the air. The dawn was rising +and flooding all the world with crimson light. +The air was fresh and keen. The soldiers awoke. +The morning rays were drawing away shadows +and mist into some region unknown. Alas! and +where was now Pognębin, where Great and Little +Kzrywda, where Mizerów? Everything was +strange and different. The summits of the hills +were overgrown with trees; in the valleys were +houses hidden under red roofs, with dark crucifixes +on the white walls,—beautiful houses like +mansions, covered with vines. Here, churches +with spires, there, factory chimneys with wreaths +of purple smoke. There were only straight lines, +level banks, and fields of corn. The inhabitants +swarmed like ants. They passed villages and +towns, and the train went through a number of +unimportant stations without stopping. Something +must have happened, for there were crowds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +to be seen everywhere. When the sun slowly +began to appear from behind the hills, one or +two of the soldiers commenced saying a prayer +aloud. Others followed their example, and the +first rays of splendour fell on the men's earnest, +devout faces.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the train had stopped at a larger +station. A crowd of people immediately surrounded +it: news had come from the seat of war. +Victory! Victory! Telegrams had been arriving +for several hours. Everyone had anticipated defeat, +so when roused by the unexpected news, +their joy knew no bounds. People rushed half-clad +from their houses and their beds, and ran to +the post-office. Flags were waving from the +roofs, and handkerchiefs from everyone's hands. +Beer, tobacco and cigars were carried to the +carriages. The enthusiasm was unspeakable; +everyone's face was beaming. 'Die Wacht am +Rhein' filled the air continuously like a tempest. +Not a few were weeping, others embraced one +another. The enthusiasm animating the crowd +imparted itself to the gallant soldiers, their courage +rose, and they too began to sing. The +carriages trembled with their strong voices, and +the crowd listened in wonder to their unintelligible +songs. The men from Pognębin sang:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'Bartoszu! Bartoszu! never lose hope!'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>'The Poles, the Poles!' repeated the crowd by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +way of explanation, and, gathering round the +carriages, admired their soldierly bearing, and +added to their joy by relating anecdotes of the +remarkable courage of these Polish Regiments.</p> + +<p>Bartek had unshaven cheeks, which, in addition +to his yellow moustache, goggle-eyes, and large +bony face, made him look terrifying. They gazed +at him as at some wild beast. These, then, were +the men who were to defend Germany! Such were +they who had just disposed of the French! Bartek +smiled with satisfaction, for he too was pleased +that they had beaten the French. Now they +would not go to Pognębin, they would not make +off with Magda, nor capture his land. So he +smiled, but as his cheek hurt him badly, he made +a grimace at the same time, and did certainly +look terrifying. Then, displaying the appetite of +a Homeric warrior, he caused pea-sausages and +pints of beer to disappear into his mouth as into +a vacuum. People in the crowd gave him cigars +and pence, and they all drank to one another.</p> + +<p>'There's some good in this German nation,' he +said to Wojtek, adding after a moment, 'and you +know they have beaten the French!'</p> + +<p>But Wojtek, the sceptic, cast a shadow on his +joy. Wojtek had forebodings, like Cassandra:</p> + +<p>'The French always allow themselves to be +beaten at first, in order to take you in, and then +they set to until they have cut you to pieces!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<p>Wojtek did not know that the greater part of +Europe shared his opinion, in general, and in +particular now.</p> + +<p>They travelled on. All the houses were covered +with flags. They stopped a long while at several +of the stations, because there was a block of trains +everywhere. Troops were hastening from all +sides of Germany to reinforce their brothers in +arms. The trains were swathed in green wreaths, +and the Lancers had decorated their lances with +the bunches of flowers given them on the way. +The majority of these Lancers also were Poles. +More than one conversation and greeting was +heard passing from carriage to carriage:</p> + +<p>'How are you, old fellow, and where is God +Almighty leading you?'</p> + +<p>Meanwhile to the accompaniment of the train +rumbling along the rails, the well-known song +rang out:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'Flirt with us, soldiers! dears!'</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Cried the girls of Sandomierz.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>And soon Bartek and his comrades caught up +the refrain:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">Gaily forth the answer burst:</span><br /> +<span class="i2">'Bless you, dears! but dinner first!'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>As many as had gone out from Pognębin in +sorrow were now filled with enthusiasm and spirit. +A train which had arrived from France with the +first batch of wounded, damped this feeling of +cheerfulness, however. It stopped at Deutz, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +waited a long time to allow the trains hurrying +to the seat of war to go by. The men were +marched across the bridge <i>en route</i> for Cologne. +Bartek ran forward with several others to look at +the sick and wounded. Some lay in closed, others +in open carriages, and these could be seen well. +At the first glance our hero's heart was again in +his mouth.</p> + +<p>'Come here, Wojtek,' he cried in terror. 'See +how many of our countrymen the Frenchmen have +done for!'</p> + +<p>It was indeed a sight! Pale, exhausted faces, +some darkened by gunpowder or by pain, or +stained with blood. To the sounds of universal +rejoicing these men only responded by groans. +Some were cursing the war, the French and the +Germans. Parched lips called every moment for +water, eyes rolled in delirium. Here and there, +amongst the wounded, were the rigid faces of the +dead, in some cases peaceful, with blue lines round +their eyes, in others contorted through the death +struggle, with terrifying eyes and grinning teeth. +Bartek saw the bloody fruits of war for the first +time, and once more confusion reigned in his +mind. He seemed quite stupefied, as, standing +in the crowd, with his mouth open, he was +elbowed from every side, and pomelled on the +neck by the police. He sought Wojtek's eyes, +nudged him, and said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Wojtek, may Heaven preserve us! It's horrible!'</p> + +<p>'It will be just the same with you.'</p> + +<p>'Jesu! Mary! That human beings should +murder one another like this! When a fellow kills +another the police take him off to the magistrate +and prison!'</p> + +<p>'Well, but now whoever kills most human +beings is to be praised. What were you thinking +of, Blockhead: did you think you would use gunpowder +as in the manœuvres, and would shoot at +targets instead of people?'</p> + +<p>Here the difference between theory and practice +certainly stood out clearly. Notwithstanding that +our friend Bartek was a soldier, had attended +manœuvres and drill, had practised rifle shooting, +had known that the object of war was to kill +people, now, when he saw blood flowing, and all +the misery of war, it made him feel so sick and +miserable he could hardly keep himself upright. +He was impressed anew with respect for the +French; this diminished, however, when they +arrived at Cologne from Deutz. At the Central +Station they saw prisoners for the first time. Surrounding +them was a number of soldiers and +people, who gazed at them with interest, but without +hostility. Bartek elbowed his way through +the crowd, and, looking into the carriage, was +amazed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>A troop of French infantry in ragged cloaks, +small, dirty, and emaciated, were packed into the +carriages like a cask of herrings. Many of them +stretched out their hands for the trifling gifts +presented to them by the crowd, if the sentinels +did not prevent them. Judging from what he had +heard from Wojtek, Bartek had had a wholly +different impression of the French, and this took +his breath away. He looked to see if Wojtek +were anywhere about, and found him standing +close by.</p> + +<p>'What did you say?' asked Bartek. 'By all +the Saints! I shouldn't be more surprised if I had +lost my head!'</p> + +<p>'They must have been starved somehow,' +answered Wojtek, equally disillusioned.</p> + +<p>'What are they jabbering?'</p> + +<p>'It's certainly not Polish.'</p> + +<p>Reassured by this impression, Bartek walked on +past the carriages. 'Miserable wretches!' he +said, when he had finished his review of the Regulars.</p> + +<p>But the last carriages contained Zouaves, and +these gave Bartek food for further reflection. +From the fact that they sat huddled together in +the carriages, it was impossible to discover +whether each man were equal to two or three +ordinary men; but, through the window, he saw +the long, martial beards, and grave faces of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +veteran soldiers with dark complexions and alarmingly +shining eyes. Again Bartek's heart leapt to +his mouth.</p> + +<p>'These are the worst of all,' he whispered low, +as if afraid they might hear him.</p> + +<p>'You have not yet seen those who have not let +themselves be taken prisoner,' replied Wojtek.</p> + +<p>'Heaven preserve us!'</p> + +<p>'Now do you understand?'</p> + +<p>Having finished looking at the Zouaves, they +walked on. At the last carriage Bartek suddenly +started back as if he had touched fire.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Wojtek, Lord help us!'</p> + +<p>There was the dark—nearly black—face of a +Turco at the open window, rolling his eyes so that +the whites showed. He must have been wounded, +for his face was contorted with pain.</p> + +<p>'But what's the matter?' asked Wojtek.</p> + +<p>'That must be the Evil One, it's not a soldier. +Lord have mercy on my sins!'</p> + +<p>'Look at his teeth!'</p> + +<p>'May he go to perdition! I shan't look at him +any longer.'</p> + +<p>Bartek was silent, then asked after a moment:</p> + +<p>'Wojtek?'</p> + +<p>'Yes?'</p> + +<p>'Mightn't it be a good thing to cross oneself +before anyone like that?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>'The heathen don't understand anything about +the holy truth.'</p> + +<p>The signal was given for taking their seats. +In a few moments the train was moving. When +it grew dusk Bartek continually saw before him +the Turco's dark face with the terrible white of his +eyes. From the feeling which at the moment +animated this Pognębin soldier, it would not have +been possible to foretell his future deeds.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV</h3> + + +<p>The particular share he took at first in the +pitched battle of Gravelotte, merely convinced +Bartek of this fact,—that in war there is +plenty to look at, but nothing to do. For at the +commencement he and his regiment were told to +order arms and wait at the bottom of a hill covered +by a vineyard. The guns were booming in the distance, +squadrons of cavalry charged past near at +hand with a clatter which shook the earth; then +the flags passed, then Cuirassiers with drawn +swords. The shells on the hill flew hissing across +the blue sky in the form of small white clouds, +then smoke filled the air and hid the horizon. +The battle seemed like a storm which passes +through a district without lasting long anywhere.</p> + +<p>After the first hours, unusual activity was displayed +round Bartek's regiment. Other regiments +began to be massed round his, and in the spaces +between them, the guns, drawn by plunging +horses, rushed along, and, hastily unlimbered, +were pointed towards the hill. The whole valley<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +became full of troops. Commands were now +thundered from all sides, the Aides-de-Camps +rushed about wildly, and the private soldiers said +to one another:</p> + +<p>'Ah! it will be our turn now! It's coming!' or +enquired uneasily of one another,</p> + +<p>'Isn't it yet time to start?'</p> + +<p>'Surely it must be!'</p> + +<p>The question of life and death was now beginning +to hang in the balance. Something in the +smoke, which hid the horizon, burst close at hand +with a terrible explosion. The deep roar of the +cannon and the crack of the rifle firing was heard +ever nearer; it was like an indistinct sound coming +from a distance,—then the mitrailleuse became +audible. Suddenly the guns, placed in position, +boomed forth until the earth and air trembled +together. The shells whistled frightfully through +Bartek's company. Watching they saw something +bright red, a little cloud, as it might be, and +in that cloud something whistled, rushed, rattled, +roared, and shrieked. The men shouted: 'A +shell! A shell,' and at the same moment this +vulture of war sped forward like a gale, came +near, fell, and burst! A terrible roar met the ear, +a crash as if the world had collapsed, followed by +a rushing sound, as before a puff of wind! Confusion +reigned in the lines standing in the neighbourhood +of the guns, then came the cry and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +command 'Stand ready!' Bartek stood in the +front rank, his rifle at his shoulder, his head +turned towards the hill, his mouth set,—so his +teeth were not chattering. He was forbidden to +tremble, he was forbidden to shoot. He had +only to stand still and wait! But now another +shell burst,—three, four, ten. The wind lifted the +smoke from the hill: the French had already +driven the Prussian battery from it, had placed +theirs in position, and now opened fire on to the +valley. Every moment from under cover of the +vineyard they sent forth long white columns of +smoke. Protected by the guns, the enemy's +infantry continued to advance, in order to open +fire. They were already half way down the hill +and could now be seen plainly, for the wind was +driving the smoke away. Would the vineyard +prove an obstacle to them? No, the dark caps of +the infantry were advancing. Suddenly they disappeared +under the tall arches of the vines, and +there was nothing to be seen but tricolour flags +waving here and there. The rifle fire began +fiercely but intermittently, continually starting in +fresh and unexpected places. Shells burst above +it, and crossed one another in the air. Now +and then cries rang out from the hill, which were +answered from below by a German 'Hurrah!' +The guns from the valley sent forth an uninterrupted +fire; the regiment stood unflinching.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>The line of fire began to embrace it more +closely, however. The bullets hummed in the +distance like gnats and flies, or passed near with +a terrible whizz. More and more of them came:—hundreds, +thousands, whistling round their heads, +their noses, their eyes, their shoulders; it was +astonishing there should be a man left standing. +Suddenly Bartek heard a groan close by: 'Jesu!' +then 'Stand ready!' then again 'Jesu!' 'Stand +ready!' Soon the groans went on without intermission, +the words of command came faster and +faster, the lines drew in closer, the whizzing grew +more frequent, more uninterrupted, more terrible. +The dead covered the ground. It was like the +Judgment Day.</p> + +<p>'Are you afraid?' Wojtek asked.</p> + +<p>'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' our hero answered, +his teeth chattering.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless both Bartek and Wojtek still kept +their feet, and it did not even enter their heads +to run away. They had been commanded to +stand still and receive the enemy's fire. Bartek +had not spoken the truth; he was not as much +afraid as thousands of others would have been in +his place. Discipline held the mastery over his +imagination, and his imagination had never painted +such a horrible situation as this. Nevertheless +Bartek felt that he would be killed, and he confided +this thought to Wojtek.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> + +<p>'There won't be room in Heaven for the numbers +they kill,' Wojtek answered in an excited +voice.</p> + +<p>These words comforted Bartek perceptibly. He +began to hope that his place in Heaven had already +been taken. Re-assured with regard to this, he +stood more patiently, conscious only of the intense +heat, and with the perspiration running down his +face. Meantime the firing became so heavy that +the ranks were thinning visibly. There was no +one to carry away the killed and wounded; the +death rattle of the dying mingled with the whizz +of shells and the din of shooting. One could see +by the movement of the tricolour flags that the +infantry hidden by the vines was coming closer +and closer. The volleys of mitrailleuse decimated +the ranks; the men were beginning to grow +desperate.</p> + +<p>But underlying this despair were impatience +and rage. Had they been commanded to go forward, +they would have gone like a whirlwind. It +was impossible to merely stand still in one spot. +A soldier suddenly threw down his helmet with his +whole force, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>'Curse it! One death is as good as another!'</p> + +<p>Bartek again experienced such a feeling of relief +from these words that he almost entirely ceased +to be afraid. For if one death was as good as +another, what did anything matter? This rustic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +philosophy was calculated to arouse courage more +rapidly than any other. Bartek knew that one +death was as good as another, but it pleased him +to hear it, especially as the battle was now turning +into a defeat. For here was a regiment which +had never fired a single shot, and was already +half annihilated. Crowds of soldiers from other +regiments which had been scattered, ran in +amongst and round theirs in disorder; only +these peasants from Pognębin, Great and Little +Krzywda, and Mizerów still remained firm, upholding +Prussian discipline. But even amongst them +a certain degree of hesitation now began to be +felt. Another moment and they would have burst +the restraint of discipline. The ground under +their feet was already soft and slippery with blood, +the stench of which mingled with the smell of +gunpowder. In several places the lines could not +join up closely, because the dead bodies made gaps +in them. At the feet of those men yet standing, +the other half lay bleeding, groaning, struggling, +dying, or in the silence of death. There was no +air to breathe in. They began to grumble:</p> + +<p>'They have brought us out to be slaughtered!'</p> + +<p>'No one will come out of this!'</p> + +<p>'Silence, Polish dogs!' sounded the officer's +voice.</p> + +<p>'I should just like you to be standing in my +shoes!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Where is that fellow?'</p> + +<p>Suddenly a voice began to repeat:</p> + +<p>'Beneath Thy Shadow....'</p> + +<p>Bartek instantly took it up:</p> + +<p>'We flee, O holy Son of God!'</p> + +<p>And soon on that field of carnage a chorus of +Polish voices was calling to the Defender of their +nation:</p> + +<p>'Of Thy favour regard our prayers.'</p> + +<p>while from beneath their feet there came the +accompaniment of groans: 'Mary! Mary!' She +had evidently heard them, for at that moment the +Aide-de-Camps came galloping up, and the command +rang forth: 'Arms to the attack! Hurrah! +Forward!' The crest of bayonets was suddenly +lowered, the column stretched out into a long line +and sprang towards the hill to seek with their +bayonets the enemy they could not discover with +their eyes. The men were, however, still two +hundred yards from the foot of the hill, and they +had to traverse that distance under a murderous +fire. Would they not perish like the rest? Would +they not be obliged to retreat? Perish they might, +but retreat they could not, for the Prussian commander +knows what tune will bring Polish soldiers +to the attack. Amid the roar of cannon, amid the +rifle fire and the smoke, the confusion and groaning, +loudest of all sounded the drums and trumpets, +playing the hymn at which every single drop<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +of blood leapt in their veins. 'Hurrah!' answered +the Macki<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> 'as long as we live!' Frenzy seized +them. The fire met them full in the face. They +went like a whirlwind over the prostrate bodies of +men and horses, over the wrecks of cannon. They +fell, but they went with a shout and a song. They +had already reached the vineyard and disappeared +into its enclosure. Only the song was heard, and +at times a bayonet glittered. On the hill the firing +became increasingly fierce. In the valley the +trumpets kept on sounding. The French volleys +continued faster and faster,—still faster,—and +suddenly—</p> + +<p>Suddenly they were silent.</p> + +<p>Down in the valley that old wardog, Steinmetz, +lighted his clay pipe, and said in a tone of satisfaction:</p> + +<p>'You have only to play to them! The daredevils +will do it!'</p> + +<p>And actually in a few moments one of the +proudly waving tricolours was suddenly raised +aloft, then drooped, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>'They are not joking,' said Steinmetz.</p> + +<p>Again the trumpets played the hymn, and a +second Polish regiment went to the help of the +first. In the enclosure a pitched battle with +bayonets was taking place.</p> + +<p>And now, oh Muse, sing of our hero, Bartek,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +that posterity may know of his deeds! The fear, +impatience, and despair of his heart had mingled +into the single feeling of rage, and when he heard +that music each vein stood out in him like cast +iron. His hair stood on end, his eyes shot fire. +He forgot everything that had made up his world; +he no longer cared whether one death was as good +as another. Grasping his rifle firmly in his hands, +he leapt forward with the others. Reaching the +hill he fell down for the tenth time, struck his +nose, and, bespattered with mud and the blood +flowing from his nose, ran on madly and breathlessly, +catching at the air with open mouth. He +stared round, wishing to find some of the French +in the enclosure as quickly as possible, and caught +sight of three standing together near the flags. +They were Turcos. Would Bartek retreat? No, +indeed; he could have seized the horns of Lucifer +himself now! He ran towards them at once, and +they fell on him with a shout; two bayonets, like +two deadly stings, had actually touched his chest +already, but Bartek lowered his bayonet. A +dreadful cry followed,—a groan, and two dark +bodies lay writhing convulsively on the ground.</p> + +<p>At that moment the third, who carried the flag, +ran up to help his two comrades. Like a Fury, +Bartek leapt on him with his whole strength. The +firing flashed and roared in the distance, while +Bartek's hoarse roar rang out through the smoke:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Go to Hell!'</p> + +<p>And again the rifle in his hand described a +fearful semi-circle, again groans responded to his +thrusts. The Turcos retreated in terror at the +sight of this furious giant, but either Bartek misunderstood, +or they shouted out something in +Arabic, for it seemed to him that their thick lips +distinctly uttered the cry: 'Magda! Magda!'</p> + +<p>'Magda will give it you!' howled Bartek, and +with one leap he was in the enemy's midst.</p> + +<p>Happily at that moment some of his comrades +ran up to his assistance. A hand to hand fight now +took place in the enclosure of the vineyard. There +was the crack of rifles at close quarters, and +the hot breath of the combatants sounded through +their nostrils. Bartek raged like a storm. +Blinded by smoke, streaming with blood, more +like a wild beast than a man, and regardless of +everything, he mowed down men at each blow, +broke rifles, cracked heads. His hands moved +with the terrible swiftness of a machine sowing +destruction. He attacked the Ensign, and seized +him by the throat with an iron grip. The Ensign's +eyes turned upwards, his face swelled, his throat +rattled, and his hands let the pole fall.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah!' cried Bartek, and, lifting the flag, +he waved it in the air.</p> + +<p>This was the flag raised aloft and drooping, +which Steinmetz had seen from below.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<p>But he could only see it for half a second, for in +the next—Bartek had trampled it to shreds. Meanwhile +his comrades were already rushing on ahead.</p> + +<p>Bartek remained alone for a moment. He tore +off the flag, hid it in his breast pocket, and, having +seized the pole in both hands, rushed after his +comrades.</p> + +<p>A crowd of Turcos, shouting in a barbarous +tongue, now fled towards the gun placed on the +summit of the hill, the Macki after them, shouting, +pursuing, striking with butt-end and bayonet.</p> + +<p>The Zouaves, who were stationed by the guns, +received the first men with rifle fire.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah!' shouted Bartek.</p> + +<p>The men ran up to the guns, and a fresh struggle +took place round these. At that moment the +second Polish regiment came to the aid of the first. +The flag pole in Bartek's powerful hands was now +changed into a kind of infernal flail. Each stroke +dealt by it opened a free passage through the +close lines of the French. The Zouaves and +Turcos began to be seized with panic, and they +fled from the place where Bartek was fighting. +Within a few moments Bartek was sitting astride +the gun, as he might his Pognębin mare.</p> + +<p>But scarcely had the soldiers had time to see +him on this, when he was already on the second, +after killing another Ensign who was standing by +it with the flag.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Hurrah, Bartek!' repeatedly exclaimed the +soldiers.</p> + +<p>The victory was complete. All the ammunition +was captured. The infantry fled, and after being +surrounded by Prussian reinforcements on the +other side of the hill, laid down their arms.</p> + +<p>Bartek captured yet a third flag during the +pursuit.</p> + +<p>It was worth seeing him, when exhausted, +covered with blood, and blowing like a blacksmith's +bellows, he now descended the hill +together with the rest, bearing the three flags +on his shoulder. The French? Why, what had +not he alone done to them! By his side went +Wojtek, scratched and scarred, so he turned to +him and said:</p> + +<p>'What did you say? Why, they are miserable +wretches; there isn't a scrap of strength in their +bones! They have just scratched you and me +like kittens, and that's all. But how I have bled +them you can see by the ground!'</p> + +<p>'Who would have known that you could be so +brave!' replied Wojtek, who had watched Bartek's +deeds, and began to look at him in quite a +different light.</p> + +<p>But who has not heard of these deeds? History, +all the regiment and the greater number of the +officers. Everybody now looked with astonishment +at this country giant with the flaxen moustache<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +and goggle eyes. The Major himself said +to him, 'Ah, you confounded Pole!' and pulled +his ear, making Bartek grin to his back teeth +with pleasure. When the regiment stood once +more at the foot of the hill, the Major pointed +him out to the Colonel, and the Colonel to Steinmetz +himself.</p> + +<p>The latter noticed the flags, and ordered that +they should be taken charge of; then he began +to look at Bartek. Our friend Bartek again stood +as straight as a fiddle string, presenting arms, +and the old General looked at him and shook his +head with pleasure. Finally he began to say +something to the Colonel; the words 'non-commissioned +officer' were plainly audible.</p> + +<p>'Too stupid, Your Excellency!' answered the +Major.</p> + +<p>'Let us try,' said His Excellency, and turning +his horse, he approached Bartek.</p> + +<p>Bartek himself scarcely knew what was happening +to him: it was a thing unknown in the +Prussian Army for the General to talk to a +Private! His Excellency was the more easily +able to do this, because he knew Polish. Moreover +this Private had captured three flags and two +guns.</p> + +<p>'Where do you come from?' enquired the +General.</p> + +<p>'From Pognębin,' answered Bartek.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Good. Your name?'</p> + +<p>'Bartek Słowik.'</p> + +<p>'Mensch,' explained the Major.</p> + +<p>'Mens!' Bartek tried to repeat.</p> + +<p>'Do you know why you are fighting the +French?'</p> + +<p>'I know, Your Excellency.'</p> + +<p>'Tell me.'</p> + +<p>Bartek began to stammer, 'Because, because—' +Then on a sudden Wojtek's words fortunately +came into his mind, and he burst out with them +quickly, so as not to get confused: 'Because +they are Germans too, only worse villains!'</p> + +<p>His Excellency's face began to twitch as if he +felt inclined to burst out laughing. After a +moment, however, His Excellency turned to the +Major, and said:</p> + +<p>'You are right, Sir.'</p> + +<p>Our friend Bartek, satisfied with himself, remained +standing as straight as a fiddle string.</p> + +<p>'Who won the battle to-day?' the General +asked again.</p> + +<p>'I, Your Excellency,' Bartek answered without +hesitation.</p> + +<p>His Excellency's face again began to twitch.</p> + +<p>'Right, very right, it was you! And here you +have your reward.'</p> + +<p>Here the old soldier unpinned the iron cross +from his own breast, stooped and pinned it on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +to Bartek. The General's good humour was +reflected in a perfectly natural way on the faces +of the Colonel, the Majors, the Captains, down +to the non-commissioned officers. After the +General's departure the Colonel for his own part +presented Bartek with ten thalers, the Major with +five, and so on. Everyone repeated to him +smilingly that he had won the battle, with the +result that Bartek was in the seventh heaven.</p> + +<p>It was a strange thing: the only person who +was not really satisfied with our hero was Wojtek.</p> + +<p>In the evening, when they were both sitting +round the fire, and when Bartek's distinguished +face was bulging as much with pea sausage as +the sausage itself, Wojtek ejaculated in a tone of +resignation:</p> + +<p>'Oh Bartek, what a blockhead you are, because—'</p> + +<p>'But why?' said Bartek, between his bites of +sausage.</p> + +<p>'Why, man, didn't you tell the General that +the French are Germans?'</p> + +<p>'You said so yourself.'</p> + +<p>'And what of that?—'</p> + +<p>Wojtek began to stammer a little—'Well, +though they may be Germans, you needn't have +told him so, because it's always unpleasant—'</p> + +<p>'But I said it about the French, not about +them....'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Ah, because when....'</p> + +<p>Wojtek stopped short, though evidently wishing +to say something further; he wished to explain +to Bartek that it is not suitable when among +Germans to speak evil of them, but somehow his +tongue became entangled.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER V</h3> + + +<p>A little while later the Royal Prussian Mail +brought the following letter to Pognębin:</p> + +<blockquote><p>May Jesus Christ and His Holy Mother be praised.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dearest Magda!</span> What news of you? It is all right for +you to be able to rest quietly in bed at home, but I am +fighting horribly hard here. We have been surrounding the +great fort of Metz, and there was a battle, and I did for +so many of the French that all the Infantry and Artillery +were astonished. And the General himself was astonished, +and said that I had won the battle, and gave me a cross. +And the officers and non-commissioned officers respect me +very much now, and rarely box my ears. Afterwards we +marched on further, and there was a second battle, but I +have forgotten what the town was called; there also I +seized and carried off four flags, and knocked down one of +the biggest Colonels in the Cuirassiers, and took him +prisoner. And as our regiment is going to be sent home, +the Sergeant has advised me to ask to be transferred and to +stay on here, for in war it is only sleep you do not get, but +you may eat as much as you can stand, and in this country +there is wine everywhere, for they are a rich nation. We +have also burnt a town and we did not spare even women +or children, nor did I. The church was burnt on purpose, +because they are Catholics, and very wicked people. We are +now going on to the Emperor himself, and that will be the +end of the war, but you take care of the cottage and Franek, +for if you do not take care of it, then I will beat you till +you have learnt what sort of a man I am. I commend you +to God.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +Bartłomiej Słowik.<br /> +</div></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bartek was evidently developing a taste for +war, and beginning to regard it as his proper +trade. He felt greater confidence in himself, and +now went into battle as he might have gone to +his work at Pognębin. Medals and crosses covered +his breast, and although he did not become +a non-commissioned officer, he was universally +regarded as the foremost Private in the regiment. +He was always well disciplined, as before, and +possessed the blind courage of the man who +simply takes no account of danger. The courage +actuating him was no longer of the same kind as +that which had filled him in his first moments of +fury, for it now sprang from military experience +and faith in himself. Added to this his giant +strength could endure all kinds of fatigue, +marches, and overstrain. Men fell at his side, +he alone went on unharmed, only working all the +harder and developing more and more into the +stern Prussian soldier. He now not only fought +the French, but hated them. Some of his other +ideas also changed. He became a soldier-patriot, +blindly extolling his leaders. In another letter to +Magda he wrote:</p> + +<blockquote><p>Wojtek is divided in his opinion, and so there is a quarrel +between us, do you understand? He is a scoundrel, too, +because he says that the French are Germans, but they are +French, and we are Germans.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Magda, in her reply to both letters, set about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +abusing him with the first words that came into +her head.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Dearest Bartek (she wrote), married to me before the +holy Altar! May God punish you! You yourself are a +scoundrel, you heathen, going with those wretches to murder +half a nation of Catholics. Do you not understand, then, +that those wretches are Lutherans, and that you, a Catholic, +are helping them? You like war, you ruffian, because you +are able now to do nothing but fight, drink, and illtreat +others, and to go without fasting; and you burn churches. +But may you burn in Hell for that, because you are even +proud of it, and have no thought for old people or children. +Remember what has been written in golden letters in the +Holy Scriptures about the Polish nation, from the beginning +of the world to the Judgment Day,—when God most High +will have no regard for sluggards,—and restrain yourself, +you Turk, that I may not smash your head to pieces. I have +sent you five thalers, although I have need of them here, +for I do not know which way to turn, and the household +savings are getting short. I embrace you, dearest Bartek.</p> + +<div class="signature"> +<span class="smcap">Magda.</span><br /> +</div></blockquote> + +<p>The moral contained in these lines made little +impression on Bartek. 'The wife does not remember +her vows,' he thought to himself, 'and +is meddling.' And he continued to make war on +the aged. He distinguished himself in every +battle so greatly, that finally he again came under +the honoured notice of Steinmetz. Ultimately +when the shattered Polish regiment was sent back +into the depths of Germany, he took the sergeant's +advice of applying for leave to be transferred, and +stayed behind. The result of this was that he +found himself outside Paris.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>His letters were now full of contempt for the +French. 'They run away like hares in every +battle,' he wrote to Magda, and he wrote the +truth. But the siege did not prove to his taste. +He had to dig or to lie in the trenches round +Paris for whole days, listening to the roar of the +guns, and often getting soaked through. Besides, +he missed his old regiment. In the one to which +he had been transferred as a volunteer, he was +surrounded by Germans. He knew some German, +having already learnt a little at the factory, but +only about five in ten words; now he quickly +began to grow familiar with it. The regiment +nicknamed him 'the Polish dog,' however, and it +was only his decorations and his terrifying fists +which shielded him from disagreeable jokes. +Nevertheless, he earned the respect of his new +comrades, and began little by little to make friends +with them. Since he covered the whole regiment +with glory, they ultimately came to look upon him +as one of themselves. Bartek would always have +considered himself insulted if anyone called him +German, but in thinking of himself in distinction +to the French he called himself 'ein Deutscher.' +To himself he appeared entirely distinct, but at the +same time he did not wish to pass for worse than +others. An incident occurred, nevertheless, which +might have given him plenty to reflect upon, had +reflection come more easily to this hero's mind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +Some Companies of his regiment had been sent +out against some volunteer sharpshooters, and +laid an ambush for them, into which they fell. +But the detachment was composed of veteran +soldiers, the remains of some of the foreign regiments, +and this time Bartek did not see the dark +caps running away after the first shots. They +defended themselves stubbornly when surrounded, +and rushed forward to force their way through +the encircling Prussian soldiery. They fought so +desperately that half of them cut their way +through, and knowing the fate that awaited captured +sharpshooters, few allowed themselves to +be taken alive. The Company in which Bartek +was serving therefore only took two prisoners. +These were lodged overnight in a forester's house, +and the next day they were to be shot. A small +guard of soldiers stood outside the door, but +Bartek was stationed in the room under the open +window with the prisoners, who were bound.</p> + +<p>One of the prisoners was a man no longer +young, with a grey moustache, and a face expressing +indifference to everything; the other appeared +to be about twenty-two years of age. With his +fair moustache yet scarcely showing, his face was +more like a woman's that a soldier's.</p> + +<p>'Well, this is the end of it,' the young man +said after a while, 'a bullet through your head—and +it's all over!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bartek shuddered until the rifle in his hand +rattled; the youth talked Polish.</p> + +<p>'It is all the same to me,' the second answered +in a gruff voice, 'as I live, all the same! I have +lived so long, I have had enough.'</p> + +<p>Bartek's heart beat quicker and quicker under +his uniform.</p> + +<p>'Listen, then,' the older man continued, 'there +is no help for it. If you are afraid, think about +something else, or go to sleep. Enjoy what you +can. As God loves me, I don't care!'</p> + +<p>'My mother will grieve for me,' the youth +replied low; and, evidently wishing to suppress +his emotion, or else to deceive himself, he began +to whistle. He suddenly interrupted this, and +cried in a voice of deep despair, 'I did not even +say good-bye!'</p> + +<p>'Then did you run away from home?'</p> + +<p>'Yes. I thought the Germans would be beaten, +so there would be better things coming for +Poland.'</p> + +<p>'And I thought the same. But now—'</p> + +<p>Waving his hand, the old man finished speaking +in a low voice, and his last words were overpowered +by the roar of the wind. The night +was dark. Clouds of fine rain swept past from +time to time; the wood close by was black as a +pall. The gale whistled round the corners of the +room, and howled in the chimney like a dog. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +lamp, placed high above the window to prevent +the wind from extinguishing it, threw a flood of +bright light into the room. But Bartek, who was +standing close to it under the window, was +plunged in darkness.</p> + +<p>And it was perhaps better the prisoners should +not see his face, for strange things were taking +place in this peasant's mind. At first he had been +filled with astonishment, and had stared hard at +the prisoners, trying to understand what they +were saying. So these men had set out to beat +the Germans to benefit Poland, and he had beaten +the French, in order that Poland might benefit! +And to-morrow these two men would be shot! +How was that? What was a poor fellow to think +about it? But if only he could hint it to them, if +only he could tell them that he was their man, +that he pitied them! He felt a sudden catch in +his throat. What could he do for them? Could +he rescue them? Then <i>he</i> would be shot! Good +God! what was happening to him? He was so +overcome by pity that he could not remain in the +room.</p> + +<p>A strange intense longing suddenly came upon +him till he seemed somewhere far off at Pognębin. +Pity, hitherto an unknown guest in his soldier's +heart, cried to him from the depth of his soul: +'Bartek, save them, they are your brothers!' and +his heart, torn as never before, cried out for home,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +for Magda, for Pognębin. He had had enough +of the French, enough of this war, and of battles! +The voice sounded clearer and clearer: 'Bartek, +save them!' Confound this war! The woods +showed dark through the open window, moaning +like the Pognębin pines, and even in that moan +something called out, 'Bartek, save them!'</p> + +<p>What could he do? Should he escape to the +wood with them, or what? All his Prussian discipline +recoiled in aversion at the thought. In the +Name of the Father and the Son! He need but +cross himself at it! He,—a soldier, and desert? +Never!</p> + +<p>All the while the wood was moaning more +loudly, the wind whistling more mournfully.</p> + +<p>The elder prisoner suddenly whispered, 'That +wind—like the Spring at home.'</p> + +<p>'Leave me in peace!' the young man said in +a Pognębin voice.</p> + +<p>After a moment, however, he repeated several +times:</p> + +<p>'At home, at home, at home! God! God!'</p> + +<p>Deep sighs mingled with the listening wind, +and the prisoners lay silent once more.</p> + +<p>Bartek began to tremble feverishly. There is +nothing so bad for a man as to be unable to tell +what is amiss with him. It seemed to Bartek as +if he had stolen something, and were afraid of +being taken in charge. He had a clear conscience,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +nothing threatened him, but he was certainly +terribly afraid of something. Indeed, his legs +were trembling, his rifle had grown dreadfully +heavy, and something—like bitter sobs—was +choking him. Were these for Magda, or for +Pognębin? For both, but also for that younger +prisoner whom it was impossible to help.</p> + +<p>At times Bartek fancied he must be asleep. +All the while the storm raged more fiercely round +the house, and the cries and voices multiplied +strangely in the whistling of the wind.</p> + +<p>Suddenly every hair of Bartek's head stood on +end under his helmet. For it seemed as if somewhere +from out of the dark, rain-clad depths of +the forest somebody were groaning, and repeating: +'At home, at home, at home!'</p> + +<p>Bartek started back, and struck the floor with +the butt end of his rifle to wake himself. He +regained consciousness somehow and looked up. +The prisoners lay in the corner, the lamp was +burning brightly, the wind was howling,—all was +in order.</p> + +<p>The light fell full on to the face of the younger +prisoner—a child's or girl's face. As he lay there +with closed eyes, and straw under his head, he +looked as if he were already dead.</p> + +<p>Never in his life had Bartek been so wrung +with pity! Something distinctly gripped his throat, +and an audible cry was wrung from his breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<p>At that moment the elder prisoner turned +wearily on to his side, and said, 'Good-night, +Władek.' Silence followed. An hour passed.</p> + +<p>The wind played like the Pognębin organ. The +prisoners lay silent. Suddenly the younger prisoner, +raising himself a little by an effort, called, +'Karol?'</p> + +<p>'What?'</p> + +<p>'Are you asleep?'</p> + +<p>'No.'</p> + +<p>'Listen! I am afraid. Say what you like, but +I shall pray.'</p> + +<p>'Pray, then.'</p> + +<p>'Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be +Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come.'</p> + +<p>Sobs suddenly interrupted the young prisoner's +words, yet the broken voice was still heard: +'Thy—will—be—done!'</p> + +<p>'Oh Jesu!' something cried in Bartek, 'Oh +Jesu!'</p> + +<p>Impossible! He could stand it no longer.—Another +moment, and exclaiming 'Lord, I am only +a man!' he had leapt through the window into +the wood. Let come what may! Suddenly +measured steps were heard echoing from the +direction of the hall: it was the patrol, the Sergeant +with it. They were changing the guard!</p> + +<p>Next day Bartek was drunk all day from early +morning. The following day likewise....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>But fresh advances, fighting, and marches took +place during the days following, and I am glad +to say that our hero regained his equilibrium. A +certain fondness for the bottle, in which it is +always possible to find pleasure and at times +forgetfulness, remained with him after that night, +however. For the rest, in battle he was more +terrible than ever; victory followed in his wake.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI</h3> + + +<p>Some months had <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'passd'">passed</ins>, +and the Spring was +now well advanced. The cherry trees at +Pognębin were in blossom and the young corn was +sprouting abundantly in the fields. One day +Magda, seated in front of the cottage, was peeling +some rotten potatoes for dinner, fitter for cattle +than for human beings. But it was Spring-time, +and poverty had visited Pognębin. That could be +seen too by the saddened and worried look on +Magda's face. Possibly in order to distract herself, +the woman, closing her eyes, sang in a thin, +strained voice:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">Alas, my Jasieńko has gone to the war! he writes me letters;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Alas, and I his wife write to him,—for I cannot see him.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The sparrows twittered in the cherry trees as if +they were trying to emulate her. She stopped +her song and gazed absently at the dog sleeping +in the sun, at the road passing the cottage, and +the path leading from the road through the garden +and field. Perhaps Magda glanced at the path +because it led across to the station and, as God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +willed, she did not look in vain that day. A +figure appeared in the distance, and the woman +shaded her eyes with her hand, but she could not +see clearly, being blinded by the glare. Łysek +woke up, however, raised his head, and giving a +short bark, began to grow excited, pricking up +his ears and turning his head from side to side. +At the same moment the words of a song reached +Magda indistinctly. Łysek sprang up suddenly +and ran at full speed towards the newcomer. +Then Magda turned a little pale.</p> + +<p>'Is it Bartek,—or not?'</p> + +<p>She jumped up so quickly that the bowl of +potatoes rolled on to the ground: there was no +longer any doubt; Łysek was bounding up to his +shoulder. The woman rushed forward, shouting +in the full strength of her joy: 'Bartek! Bartek!'</p> + +<p>'Magda, here I am!' Bartek cried, throwing +her a kiss, and hurrying towards her. He opened +the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all but +fell, recovered himself,—and they were clasped +in one anothers' arms.</p> + +<p>The woman began to speak quickly:</p> + +<p>'And I had thought that you would not come +back. I thought "they will kill him!"—How +are you?—Let me see. How good to look at +you! You are terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor +fellow!—Oh, my dearest!... He has come +back, come back!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>For one moment she tore herself from his neck +and looked at him, then threw herself on to it +again.</p> + +<p>'Come back! The Lord be praised! Bartek, +my darling! How are you? Go indoors! Franek +is at school being teased by that horrid German! +The boy is well. He's as dull in the upper storey +as you are. Oh, but it was time for you to come +back! I didn't know any more which way to turn. +I was miserable, I tell you, miserable! This whole +poor house is going into ruins. The roof is off +the barn. How are you? Oh, Bartek! Bartek! +That I should actually see you, after all! What +trouble I have had with the hay!—The neighbours +helped me, but they did it to help themselves! +How are you?—Well? Oh, but I am glad to have +you,—glad! The Lord watched over you. Go +indoors. By God, it's like Bartek, and not like +Bartek! What's the matter with you? Oh dear! +Oh dear!'</p> + +<p>At that instant Magda had become aware of a +long scar running along Bartek's face across his +left temple and cheek and down to his beard.</p> + +<p>'It's nothing.—A Cuirassier did it for me, but +I did the same for him. I have been in hospital.'</p> + +<p>'Oh Jesu!'</p> + +<p>'Why, it's a mere flea-bite.'</p> + +<p>'But you are starved to death.'</p> + +<p>'Ruhig!' answered Bartek.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was in truth emaciated, begrimed and in +rags:—a true conqueror! He swayed too as he +stood.</p> + +<p>'What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?'</p> + +<p>'I—am still weak.'</p> + +<p>That he was weak, was certain, but he was tipsy +also. For one glass of vodka would have been +sufficient in his state of exhaustion, and Bartek +had drunk something like four at the station. +The result was that he had the bearing of the +true conqueror. He had not been like this formerly.</p> + +<p>'Ruhig!' he repeated. 'We have finished the +Krieg. I am a gentleman now, do you understand? +Look here!' he pointed to his crosses and +medals. 'Do you know who I am? Eh? Links! +Rechts! Heu! Stroh! Halt!'</p> + +<p>At the word, 'halt,' he gave such a shrill shout +that the woman recoiled several steps.</p> + +<p>'Are you mad?'</p> + +<p>'How are you, Magda? When I say to you +"how are you" then how are you? Do you know +French, stupid? "Musiu, Musiu!" What is +"Musiu?" I am a "Musiu," do you understand?'</p> + +<p>'Man, what's up with you?'</p> + +<p>'What's that to you! Was? "Doné diner," +do you understand?'</p> + +<p>A storm began to gather on Magda's brow.</p> + +<p>'What rubbish are you jabbering? What's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +this,—you don't know Polish? That's all through +those wretches. I said how it would be! What +have they done to you?'</p> + +<p>'Give me something to eat!'</p> + +<p>'Be quick indoors.'</p> + +<p>Every command made an irresistible impression +on Bartek; hearing this 'Be quick' he drew +himself up, held his hand stiffly to his side, and, +having made a half-turn, marched in the direction +indicated. He stood still at the threshold, however, +and began to look wonderingly at Magda.</p> + +<p>'Well, what do you want, Magda? What do...?'</p> + +<p>'Quick! March!'</p> + +<p>He entered the cottage, but fell over the threshold. +The vodka was now beginning to go to his +head. He started singing, and looked round the +cottage for Franek, even saying 'Morgen, Kerl,' +although Franek was not there. After that he +laughed loudly, staggered, shouted 'Hurrah!' +and fell full length on the bed. In the evening +he awoke sober and rested, and welcomed Franek, +then, having got some pence out of Magda, he +took his triumphant way to the inn. The glory +of his deeds had already preceded him to Pognębin, +since more than one of the soldiers from +other divisions of the same regiment, having +returned earlier, had related how he had distinguished +himself at Gravelotte and Sedan. So<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +now when the rumour spread that the conqueror +was at the inn, all his old comrades hastened there +to welcome him.</p> + +<p>No one would have recognized our friend +Bartek, as he now sat at the table. He, formerly +so meek, was to be seen striking his fist on the +table, puffing himself out and gobbling like a +turkey-cock.</p> + +<p>'Do you remember, you fellows, that time I +did for the French, what Steinmetz said?'</p> + +<p>'How could we forget?'</p> + +<p>'People used to talk about the French, and be +frightened of them, but they are a poor lot—<i>was</i>? +They run like hares into the lettuce, and run away +like hares too. They don't drink beer either, +nothing but strong wine.'</p> + +<p>'That's it!'</p> + +<p>'When we burnt a town they would wring their +hands immediately and cry "Pitié, pitié,"<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> as if +they meant they would give us a drink if we +would only leave them alone. But we paid no +attention to them.'</p> + +<p>'Then can one understand their gibberish?' +enquired a young farmer's lad.</p> + +<p>'You wouldn't understand, because you are +stupid, but I understand. "Doné di pę!"<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Do +you understand?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>'But what did you do?'</p> + +<p>'Do you know about Paris? We had one battle +after another there, but we won them all. They +have no good commanders. People say so too. +"The ground enclosed by the hedge is good," they +say, "but it has been badly managed." Their +officers are bad managers, and their generals are +bad managers, but on our side they are good.'</p> + +<p>Maciej Kierz, the wise old innkeeper of Pognębin, +began to shake his head.</p> + +<p>'Well, the Germans have been victorious in a +terrible war; they have been victorious—but I +always thought they would be. But the Lord +alone knows what will come out of it for us.'</p> + +<p>Bartek stared at him.</p> + +<p>'What do you say?'</p> + +<p>'The Germans have never cared to consider us +much, anyhow, but, now they will be as stuck up +as if there were no God above them. And they +will illtreat us still more than they do already.'</p> + +<p>'But that's not true!' Bartek said.</p> + +<p>Old Kierz was a person of such authority in +Pognębin that all the village always thought as +he did, and it was sheer audacity to contradict +him. But Bartek was a conqueror now, and an +authority himself. All the same they gazed at him +in astonishment, and even in some indignation.</p> + +<p>'Who are you, to quarrel with Maciej? Who +are you—?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>'What's Maciej to me? It isn't to such as he +that I have talked, you see! Why, you fellows, +I talked, didn't I, to Steinmetz—<i>was</i>? But let +Maciej fancy what he likes. We shall be better +off now.'</p> + +<p>Maciej looked at the conqueror for a moment.</p> + +<p>'You Blockhead!' he said.</p> + +<p>Bartek struck his fist on the table, making all +the glasses and pint-pots start up.</p> + +<p>'Still, der Kerl da! Heu! Stroh!'</p> + +<p>'Silence, no row! Ask the Priest or the Count, +Blockhead.'</p> + +<p>'Was the Priest in the war? Or was the Count +there? But I was there. It's not true, boys. +They'll know now how to respect us. Who won +the battle? We won it, I won it. Now they'll give +us anything we ask for. If I had wanted to +become a land-owner in France, I should have +stayed there. The Government knows very well +who gave the French the best beating. And our +regiment was the best. They said so in the +military despatches. So now the Poles will get +the upper hand;—do you see?'</p> + +<p>Kierz waved his hand, stood up, and went out. +Bartek had carried off the victory in the field of +politics also. The young men remaining with +him, regarded him as a perfect marvel. He +continued:</p> + +<p>'As if they wouldn't give me anything I want!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +If I don't get it, I should like to know who would! +Old Kierz is a scoundrel, do you see? The +Government commands you to fight, so you must +fight. Who will illtreat me? The Germans? Is +it likely?'</p> + +<p>Here he again displayed his crosses and medals.</p> + +<p>'And for whom did I beat the French? Not +for the Germans, surely? I am a better man now +than a German, for there's not one German as +strong. Bring us some beer! I have talked to +Steinmetz, and I have talked to Podbielski. +Bring us some beer!'</p> + +<p>They slowly prepared for their carouse.</p> + +<p>Bartek began to sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">Drink, drink, drink,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">As long as in my pocket</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Still the pennies chink!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>Suddenly he took a handful of pence from his +pocket.</p> + +<p>'Beer! I am a gentleman now.—Won't you? +I tell you in France we were not so flush of +money;—there was little we didn't burn, and few +people we didn't put a shot into!—God doesn't +know which—of the French—.'</p> + +<p>A tippler's moods are subject to rapid changes. +Bartek unexpectedly raked together the money +from the table, and began to exclaim sadly:</p> + +<p>'Lord, have mercy on the sins of my soul!'</p> + +<p>Then, propping both elbows on the table, and +hiding his head in his hands, he was silent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>'What's the matter?' inquired one of the +drinkers.</p> + +<p>'Why was I to blame for them?' Bartek +murmured sadly. 'It was their own look-out. I +was sorry for them, for they were both in my +hands. Lord! have mercy! One was as the +ruddy dawn! next day he was as white as cheese. +And even after that I still—Vodka!'</p> + +<p>A moment of gloomy silence followed. The +men looked at one another in astonishment.</p> + +<p>'What is he saying?' one asked.</p> + +<p>'He is settling something with his conscience.'</p> + +<p>'A man must drink in spite of that war.'</p> + +<p>He filled up his glass of vodka once or twice, +then he spat, and his good humour unexpectedly +returned.</p> + +<p>'Have you ever stood talking to Steinmetz? +But I have! Hurrah!—Drink! Who pays? I do!'</p> + +<p>'You may pay, you drunkard,' sounded +Magda's voice, 'but I will repay you! Never +fear!'</p> + +<p>Bartek looked at his wife with glassy eyes.</p> + +<p>'Have you talked to Steinmetz? Who are you?'</p> + +<p>Instead of replying to him, Magda turned to +the interested listeners, and began to exclaim:</p> + +<p>'Oh, you men, you wretched men, do you see +the disgrace and misery I am in? He came back, +and I was glad to welcome him as a good man, +but he came back drunk. He has forgotten God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +and he has forgotten Polish. He went to sleep, +he woke up sober, and now he's drinking again, +and paying for it with my money, which I had +earned by my own work. And where have you +taken that money from? Isn't it what I have +earned by all my trouble and slavery? I tell you +men, he's no longer a Catholic, he's not a man +any more, he's bewitched by the Germans, he +jabbers German, and is just waiting to do harm +to people. He's possessed....'</p> + +<p>Here the woman burst into tears; then, raising +her voice an octave higher:—'He was stupid, +but he was good. But now, what have they done +to him? I looked out for him in the evening, I +looked out for him in the morning, and I have +lived to see him. There is no peace and no mercy +anywhere. Great God! Merciful God!—If you +had only left it alone,—if you had only remained +German altogether!'</p> + +<p>Her last words ended in such a wail, it was +almost like a cadence. But Bartek merely said:</p> + +<p>'Be quiet, or I shall do for you!'</p> + +<p>'Strike me, hit my head, hit me now, kill me, +murder me!' the woman screamed, and stretching +her neck forward, she turned to the man.</p> + +<p>'And you fellows, watch!—'</p> + +<p>But the men were beginning to disperse. The +inn was soon deserted, and only Bartek and his +wife, with her neck stretched forward, remained.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Why do you stretch out your neck like a +goose?' murmured Bartek. 'Go home.'</p> + +<p>'Hit me!' repeated Magda.</p> + +<p>'Well, I shan't hit,' replied Bartek, putting his +hands into his pockets. Here the innkeeper, +wishing to put an end to the quarrel, turned out +one of the lights. The room became dark and +silent. After a while Magda's shrill voice sounded +through the darkness:</p> + +<p>'Hit me!'</p> + +<p>'I shan't hit,' replied Bartek's triumphant +voice.</p> + +<p>Two figures were to be seen going by moonlight +from the inn to the cottage. One of them, +walking in front, was sobbing loudly; that was +Magda; after her, hanging his head and following +humbly enough, went the victor of Gravelotte +and Sedan.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII</h3> + + +<p>Bartek went home so tipsy that for some +days he was unfit for work. This was most +unfortunate for all his household affairs, which +were in need of a strong man to look after them. +Magda did her best. She worked from morning +till night, and the neighbours helped her as well as +they could, but even so she could not make both +ends meet, and the household was being ruined +little by little. Then there were a few small debts +to the German Colonist, Just, who, having at a +favourable moment bought some thirteen acres of +waste land at Pognębin, now had the best property +in the whole village. He had ready money +besides, which he lent out at sufficiently high +interest. He lent it chiefly to the owner of the +property, Count Jarzyński, who bore the nickname +of the 'Golden Prince,' but who was obliged to +keep up his house in a style of befitting splendour +for that very reason. Just, however, also lent to +peasants. For six months Magda had owed him +some twenty thalers, part of which she had borrowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +for her housekeeping, and part to send to +Bartek during the war. Yet that need not have +mattered. God had granted a good harvest, and +it would have been possible to repay the debt out +of the incoming crop, provided that the hands +and the labour were forthcoming. Unluckily +Bartek could not work. Magda did not quite +believe this, and went to the priest for help, thinking +he might rouse her husband; but this was +really impossible. When at all tired, Bartek +grew short of breath and his wounds pained him. +So he sat in front of the cottage all day long, +smoking his clay pipe with the figure of Bismarck +in white uniform and a Cuirassier's helmet, and +gazed at the world with the drowsy eyes of a +man still feeling the effects of bodily fatigue. +He pondered a little on the war, a little on his +victories, on Magda,—a little on everything, a +little on nothing.</p> + +<p>One day, as he sat thus, he heard Franek +crying in the distance on his way home from +school. He was howling till the echoes rang.</p> + +<p>Bartek pulled his pipe out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>'Why, Franek, what's the matter with you?'</p> + +<p>'What's the matter?' repeated Franek, sobbing.</p> + +<p>'Why are you crying?'</p> + +<p>'Why shouldn't I cry, when I have had my +ears boxed?'</p> + +<p>'Who boxed your ears?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Who? Why, Herr Boege!'</p> + +<p>Herr Boege filled the post of schoolmaster at +Pognębin.</p> + +<p>'And has he a right to box your ears?'</p> + +<p>'I suppose so, as he did it.'</p> + +<p>Magda, who had been hoeing in the garden, +came through the hedge, and, with the hoe in her +hand, went up to the child.</p> + +<p>'What are you saying?' she asked.</p> + +<p>'What am I saying—? If that Boege didn't +call me a Polish pig, and give me a box on the +ears, and say that just as they have beaten the +French now, so they will trample us underfoot, +for they are the strongest. And I had done +nothing to him, but he had asked me who is the +greatest person in the world, and I had said it +was the Holy Father, but he boxed my ears, and +I began to cry, and he called me a Polish pig, +and said that just as they have beaten the +French....'</p> + +<p>Franek was beginning it all over again,—'and +he said, and I said,'—but Magda covered his +mouth with her hand, and she herself, turning to +Bartek, exclaimed:—</p> + +<p>'Do you hear? Do you hear? Go to the French +war, then let a German beat your child like a +dog!—Curse him! Go to the war, and let this +Swabian kill your child!—You have your reward!... +May....'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here Magda, moved by her own eloquence, also +began to cry to Franek's accompaniment. Bartek +stared open-mouthed with astonishment, and could +not bring out a single word, or comprehend in the +least what had happened. How was this? And +what of his victories?—He sat on in silence for +some moments, then suddenly something leaped +into his eyes, and the blood rushed to his face. +With ignorant people astonishment, like terror, +often turns to rage. Bartek sprang up suddenly, +and jerked out through his clenched teeth:—</p> + +<p>'I will talk to him!'</p> + +<p>And he went out. It was not far to go; the +school lay close to the church. Herr Boege was +just standing in front of the verandah, surrounded +by a herd of young pigs, to which he was throwing +pieces of bread.</p> + +<p>He was a tall man, about fifty years of age, +still as vigorous as an oak. He was not particularly +stout, but his face was very fat, and he had +a pair of very protruding eyes which expressed +courage and energy.</p> + +<p>Bartek went up to him very quickly.</p> + +<p>'German, why have you been beating my child? +<i>Was?</i>' he asked.</p> + +<p>Herr Boege took a few steps backwards, +measured him with a glance without a shade of +fear, and said phlegmatically:—</p> + +<p>'Begone, Polish prize-fighter!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Why have you been beating my child?' repeated +Bartek.</p> + +<p>'I will beat you too, you low Polish scoundrel! +I will show you who is master here. Go to the +devil, go to the law,—begone!'</p> + +<p>Bartek, having seized the schoolmaster by the +shoulder, began to shake him roughly, crying in +a hoarse voice:—</p> + +<p>'Do you know who I am? Do you know who +did for the French? Do you know who talked to +Steinmetz? Why do you beat my child, you +cursed Swabian dog?'</p> + +<p>Herr Boege's protruding eyes glared no less +than Bartek's, but Boege was a strong man, and +he resolved to free himself from his assailant by a +single blow. This blow descended with a loud +smack on the face of the victor of Gravelotte and +Sedan.</p> + +<p>At that the man forgot everything. Boege's +head was shaken from side to side with a swift +motion recalling a pendulum, but with this difference +that the shaking was alarmingly rapid. The +formidable vanquisher of Turcos and Zouaves +awoke in Bartek once more. Boege's twelve year +old son, Oscar, a lad as strong as his father, ran +in vain to his assistance. A short, but terrible +struggle took place, in which the son fell to the +ground, and the father felt himself lifted up into +the air. Bartek, raising his hand, held him there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +he himself scarcely knew how. Unluckily the +tub of dishwater, which Herr Boege had been +assiduously mixing for the pigs, stood near. Into +this tub Herr Boege now capsized, and a moment +later his feet were to be seen projecting from it, +and kicking violently. His wife darted out of the +house:—</p> + +<p>'Help, to the rescue!'</p> + +<p>The German colonists rushed from the houses +near to their neighbour's assistance. Some of +them fell on Bartek and began to belabour him +with sticks and stones. In the general confusion +which followed it was difficult to distinguish Bartek +from his adversaries: some thirteen bodies +were to be seen rolling round in a single mass, +and struggling convulsively.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, however, from out of this fighting +mass Bartek burst forth like fury, making towards +the hedge with all his might.</p> + +<p>The Germans ran after him, but an alarming +crack was heard in the hedge at the same moment, +and Bartek's iron hands brandished a stout stick.</p> + +<p>He returned raging and furious, holding the +stick in the air: they all fled.</p> + +<p>Bartek went after them, but luckily did not +overtake anyone. Thus his rage cooled, and he +began to retreat homewards. Ah! if only it had +been the French he had been facing! His retreat +would then have made immortal history.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>As it was, he was being attacked by about a +dozen people who, when they had reassembled, +set on him afresh. Bartek retired slowly, like a +wild boar pursued by dogs. He turned round +now and then and stood still: then his pursuers +stood still too. The stick had earned their complete +respect.</p> + +<p>They threw stones at him, nevertheless, one of +which wounded Bartek in the forehead. The +blood poured into his eyes, and he felt himself +growing faint. He swayed once or twice, let go +the stick, and fell down.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah!' cried the Germans.</p> + +<p>But by the time they reached him, Bartek had +got up again: then they held back. This +wounded wolf was still dangerous. Besides, he +was now not far from the first cottage, and some +labourers could be seen in the distance hurrying +to the battlefield at full speed. The Germans +retired to their houses.</p> + +<p>'What has happened?' enquired the newcomers.</p> + +<p>'I have been trying my hand a bit on the +Germans,' Bartek answered. And he fainted.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + + +<p>It proved a serious affair. The German newspapers +published flaming articles on the +persecutions to which the peaceful German population +was subjected at the hands of the barbarian +and ignorant masses, who were roused by socialist +agitation and religious fanaticism. Boege became +a hero. He, the quiet, gentle schoolmaster, +spreading the light of learning on the far borders +of the Empire; he, the true missionary of culture +amid barbarians, had fallen a first victim to the +riot. It was fortunate that there were a hundred +million Germans to stand up for him, who would +never allow.... And so on.</p> + +<p>Bartek did not know what a storm was brewing +over his head. On the contrary, he was in good +spirits; he was certain that he would win at the +trial. For Boege had beaten his child, and had +dealt him the first blow, and it had afterwards +been he who had been attacked from behind! +Surely he had a right to defend himself. They +had also thrown a stone at his head,—actually +thrown it at him, who had been mentioned in the +daily despatches, who had won the battle of Gravelotte,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +had talked to Steinmetz himself, and received +so many medals. It is true it never entered his +head that the Germans did not know all this +when they wronged him so greatly, any more +than it occurred to him that Boege could substantiate +his threat to Pognębin that the Germans +would now trample it underfoot in the same way +in which they, the Pognębinites, had so thoroughly +beaten the French whenever they had had +an opportunity. But as for himself, he was +certain that public opinion and the Government +would be in his favour. They would certainly +know who he was, and what he had done during +the war. If he was not a different man to what +he thought him, Steinmetz would espouse his +cause. Since Bartek was the poorer through the +war, and his house in debt, they were, anyhow, +not doing him justice.</p> + +<p>All the same, the police from Pognębin rode up +to Bartek's house. They had expected serious +resistance, for as many as five appeared with +loaded revolvers. They were mistaken; Bartek +had not thought of offering any resistance. They +told him to get into the carriage,—and he got in. +Magda alone was desperate, persistently repeating:—</p> + +<p>'Oh dear, what did you fight those French for? +You will catch it now, poor fellow, that you will!'</p> + +<p>'Be quiet, stupid!' Bartek answered, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +smiled quite cheerfully to the passers-by as he +drove along.</p> + +<p>'I'll show them who it is they have offended!' +he cried from the carriage.</p> + +<p>And, covered with his medals, he drove along +to the trial like a conqueror.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the trial went in his favour. +The judge decided to be lenient under the circumstances: +Bartek was only condemned to three +months' imprisonment.</p> + +<p>In addition to this he had to pay a fine of 150 +marks to the Boege family and 'other injured +colonists.'</p> + +<p>'Nevertheless the prisoner,' wrote the <i>Posener +Zeitung</i> in the Criminal Report, 'showed not the +slightest sign of contrition when the sentence +was passed on him, but poured forth such a stream +of invective, and began to enumerate his so-called +services to the State in such an impudent manner, +that it is surprising these insults to the Court and +the German nation,' etc., etc.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Bartek in prison quietly recalled +his deeds at Gravelotte, Sedan, and Paris.</p> + +<p>We should, however, be doing an injustice in +asserting that Herr Boege's action called forth no +public censure. Very much the reverse. On a +certain rainy morning a Polish Member of Parliament +pointed out with great eloquence that the +attitude of the Government towards the Poles had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +altered in Posen; that, considering the courage +and sacrifice displayed by the Polish regiments +during the war, it would be fitting to have more +regard for justice in the Polish provinces; finally, +that Herr Boege at Pognębin had abused his position +as schoolmaster by beating a Polish child, +calling it a Polish pig, and holding out hopes that +after this war the inhabitants would trample the +native population under foot. The rain fell as the +Member was speaking, and as such weather makes +people sleepy, the Conservatives yawned, the +National-Liberals yawned, the Centre yawned,—for +they were still being faced by the 'Kultur-Kampf.'</p> + +<p>Following immediately on this 'Polish question' +the Chamber proceeded to the order of the day.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Bartek sat in prison, or rather, he +lay in the prison infirmary, for the blow from +the stone had re-opened the wound which he had +received in the war.</p> + +<p>When not feverish, he thought and thought, +like the turkeycock that died of thinking. But +Bartek did not die, he merely did not arrive at +any conclusion.</p> + +<p>Now and then, however, during moments, +which Science names 'lucida intervalla,' it occurred +to him that he had perhaps exerted himself +unnecessarily in 'doing for' the French.</p> + +<p>Difficult times followed for Magda. The fine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +had to be paid, and there was nothing with which +to pay it. The priest at Pognębin offered to help, +but it turned out that there were not quite forty +marks in his money box. The parish of Pognębin +was poor; besides, the good old man never knew +how his money went. Count Jarzyński was not +at home. It was said that he had gone love-making +to some rich lady in Prussia.</p> + +<p>Magda did not know where to turn.</p> + +<p>An extension of the loan was not to be thought +of. What else, then? Should she sell the horse +or the cows? Meanwhile Winter passed into +Spring, the hardest time of all. It would soon +be harvest, when she would need money for +extra labour, and even now it was all exhausted. +The woman wrung her hands in despair. She +sent a petition to the Magistrate, recalling Bartek's +services; she never even received an answer. +The time for repayment of the loan was drawing +near, and the sequestration with it.</p> + +<p>She prayed and prayed, remembering bitterly +the time when they were well off, and when +Bartek used to earn money at the factory in +winter. She tried to borrow money from her +neighbours; they had none. The war had made +itself felt all round. She did not dare to go to +Just, because she was in his debt already, and +had not even paid the interest. However, Just +unexpectedly came to see her himself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>One afternoon she was sitting in the cottage +doorway doing nothing, for despair had drained +her strength. She was gazing before her at two +golden butterflies chasing one another in the air, +and thinking 'how happy those creatures are, they +live for themselves and needn't pay'—and so on. +After a while she sighed heavily, and a low cry +broke from her pale lips: 'Oh God! God!' Suddenly +at the gate appeared Just's long nose, and +his long pipe beneath it. The woman turned pale. +Just addressed her:—</p> + +<p>'Morgen!'</p> + +<p>'How are you, Herr Just?'</p> + +<p>'What about my money?'</p> + +<p>'Oh, my dear Herr Just, have pity! I am very +poor, and what am I to do? They have taken my +man away,—I have to pay the fine for him,—and +I don't know where to turn. It would be +better to die than to be worried like this from day +to day. Do wait a while longer, dear Herr Just!'</p> + +<p>She burst out crying, and seizing Herr Just's +fat, red hand, she kissed it humbly. 'The Count +will be back soon, then I will borrow from him, +and give it back to you.'</p> + +<p>'Well, and how will you repay the fine?'</p> + +<p>'How can I tell?—I might sell the cow.'</p> + +<p>'Then I will lend you some more.'</p> + +<p>'May God Almighty repay you, my dear Sir! +Although you are a Lutheran, you are a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +man. I speak the truth! If only other Germans +were like you, Sir, one might bless them.'</p> + +<p>'But I don't lend money without interest.'</p> + +<p>'I know, I know.'</p> + +<p>'Then write me one receipt for it all.'</p> + +<p>'You are a kind gentleman, may God repay +you too in the same way.'</p> + +<p>'We will draw up the bill when I go into the +town.'</p> + +<p>He went into the town and drew up the bill, but +Magda had gone to the priest for advice beforehand. +Yet what could he advise? The priest +said he was very sorry for her; the time given +for repayment was short, the interest was high, +Count Jarzyński was not at home; had he been, +he might have helped. Magda, however, could +not wait until the team was sold, and she was +obliged to accept Just's terms. She contracted a +debt of three hundred marks, that is, twice the +amount of the fine, for it was certainly necessary +to have a few pence in the house to carry on the +housekeeping. On account of the importance of +the document, Bartek was obliged to sign it, and +for this reason Magda went to see him in prison. +The conqueror was very depressed, dejected, and +ill. He had wished to forward a petition, setting +forth his grievances, but petitions were not accepted;—opinion +in Administrative circles had +turned against him since the Articles in the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +<i>Posener Zeitung</i>. For were not these very Authorities +bound to afford protection to the peaceful German +population, who, during the recent war, had given +so many proofs of devotion and sacrifice to the +Fatherland? They were therefore obliged in fairness +to reject Bartek's petition. But it is not +surprising that this should have depressed him +at last.</p> + +<p>'We are done for all round,' he said to his wife.</p> + +<p>'All round,' she repeated.</p> + +<p>Bartek began to ruminate deeply on the circumstances.</p> + +<p>'It's a cruel injustice to me,' he said.</p> + +<p>'That man Boege persecutes one,' Magda replied. +'I went to implore him, and he called me +names too. Ah! the Germans have the upper +hand now at Pognębin. They aren't afraid of +anyone.'</p> + +<p>'Of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'couse'">course</ins>, for they are the strongest,' Bartek +said sadly.</p> + +<p>'As I am a plain woman, I tell you God is the +strongest.'</p> + +<p>'In Him is our refuge,' added Bartek.</p> + +<p>They were both silent a moment, then he asked +again:—</p> + +<p>'Well, and what of Just?'</p> + +<p>'If the Lord Almighty gives us a crop, then +perhaps we shall be able to repay him. Possibly +too the Count will help us, although he himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +has debts with the German. They said even +before the war that he would have to sell Pognębin. +Let us hope that he will bring home a +rich wife.'</p> + +<p>'But will he be back soon?'</p> + +<p>'Who knows? They say at the house that he +will soon be coming with his wife. And directly +he is back the Germans will be upon him. It's +always those Germans! They are as plentiful as +worms! Wherever one looks, whichever way one +turns, whether in the village or the town—Germans +for our sins! But where are we to get help +from?'</p> + +<p>'Perhaps you can decide on something, for you +are a clever woman.'</p> + +<p>'What can I advise? Should I have borrowed +money from Just if I could have helped it? I did +it for a good reason, but now the cottage in which +we are settled, and the land also are already his. +Just is better than other Germans, but he too has +an eye to his own profit, not other people's. He +won't be lenient to us any more than he has been +lenient to others. I am not so stupid as not to +know why he sticks his money in here! But what +is one to do, what is one to do?' she cried, wringing +her hands. 'Give some advice yourself, if +you are clever. You can beat the French, but +what will you do without a roof over your head, +or a crust to eat?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>The victor of Gravelotte bent his head. 'Oh +Jesu! Jesu!'</p> + +<p>Magda had a kind heart; Bartek's grief touched +her, so she said quickly:—</p> + +<p>'Never mind, dear boy, never mind. Don't +worry as long as you are not yet well. The rye +is so fine, it's bending to the ground; the wheat +the same. The ground doesn't belong to the +Germans; it's as good as ever it was. The fields +were in a bad state before your quarrel, but now +they are growing so well, you'll see!'</p> + +<p>Magda began to smile through her tears.</p> + +<p>'The ground doesn't belong to the Germans,' +she repeated once more.</p> + +<p>'Magda!' Bartek said, looking at her with +wide-open eyes, 'Magda!'</p> + +<p>'What?'</p> + +<p>'But,—because you are ... if....'</p> + +<p>Bartek felt deep gratitude towards her, but he +could not express it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX</h3> + + +<p>In truth Magda was worth more than ten other +women put together. Her manner towards +Bartek was rather curt, but she was really attached +to him. In moments of excitement, as, +for example, in the prison, she told him to his face +that he was stupid; nevertheless, before other +people she would generally exclaim:—'My Bartek +pretends to be stupid, but that's his slyness.' She +used frequently to say this. As a matter of fact, +Bartek was about as cunning as his horse, and +without Magda he would have been unable to +manage either his holding or anything else. Now, +when everything rested on her honest shoulders, +she left no stone unturned, running hither and +thither to beg for help. A week after her last +visit to the prison infirmary she ran in again to +see Bartek, breathless, beaming, and happy.</p> + +<p>'My word, Bartek, how are you?' she exclaimed +gleefully. 'Do you know the Count has +arrived! He was married in Prussia; the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +lady is a beauty! But he has done well for himself +all round in getting her; fancy,—just fancy!'</p> + +<p>The owner of Pognębin had really been married +and come home with his wife, and had actually +done very well by himself all round in finding her.</p> + +<p>'Well, and what of that?' enquired Bartek.</p> + +<p>'Be quiet, Blockhead,' Magda replied. 'Oh! +how out of breath I am! Oh Jesu! I went to +pay my respects to the lady. I looked at her: +she came out to meet me like a queen, as young +and charming as a flower, and as beautiful as the +dawn!—Oh dear, how out of breath I am!—'</p> + +<p>Magda took her handkerchief, and began to +wipe the perspiration from her face. The next +instant she started talking again in a gasping +voice:—</p> + +<p>'She had a blue dress like that blue-bottle. I +fell at her feet, and she gave me her hand;—I +kissed it,—and her hands are as sweet and tiny as +a child's. She is just like a saint in a picture, +and she is good, and feels for poor people. I +began to beg her for help.—May God give her +health!—And she said, "I will do," she said, +"whatever lies in my power." And she has such +a pretty little voice that when she speaks one does +feel pleased. So then I began to tell her that +there are unhappy people in Pognębin, and she +said, "Not only in Pognębin," and then I burst +into tears, and she too. And then the Count<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +came in, and he saw that she was crying, so he +would have liked to take her and give her a little +kiss. Gentlefolk aren't like us! Then she said to +him, "Do what you can for this woman." And +he said, "Anything in the world, whatever you +wish."—May the Mother of God bless her, that +lovely creature, may She bless her with children +and with health!—The Count said at once: "You +must be heavily in debt, if you have fallen into the +hands of the Germans, but," he said, "I will +help you, and also against Just."'</p> + +<p>Bartek began to scratch his neck.</p> + +<p>'But the Germans have got hold of him too.'</p> + +<p>'What of that? His wife is rich. They could +buy all the Germans in Pognębin now, so it was +easy for him to talk like that. "The election," +he said, "is coming on before long, and people +had better take care not to vote for Germans; +but I will make short work of Just and Boege." +And the lady put her arm round his neck,—and +the Count asked after you, and said, "if he is ill, +I will speak to the doctor about giving him a +certificate to show that he is unfit to be imprisoned +now. If they don't let him off altogether," he +said, "he will be imprisoned in the winter, but +he is needed now for working the crops." Do +you hear? The Count was in the town yesterday, +and invited the doctor to come on a visit to Pognębin +to-day. He's not a German. He'll write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +the certificate. In the winter you'll sit in prison +like a king, you'll be warm, and they'll give you +meat to eat; and now you are going home to +work, and Just will be repaid, and possibly the +Count won't want any interest, and if we can't +give it all back in the Autumn, I'll beg it from +the lady. May the Mother of God bless her.... +Do you hear?'</p> + +<p>'She is a good lady. There are not many +such!' Bartek said at once.</p> + +<p>'You must fall at her feet, I tell you,—but no, +for then that lovely head would bend to you! If +only God grants us a crop. And do you see +where the help has come from? Was it from the +Germans? Did they give a single penny for your +stupid head? Well, they gave you as much as +it was worth! Fall at the lady's feet, I say!'</p> + +<p>'I can't do otherwise,' Bartek replied resolutely.</p> + +<p>Fortune seemed to smile on the conqueror once +more. He was informed some days later that for +reasons of health he would be released from prison +until the winter. He was ordered to appear before +the Magistrate. The man who, bayonet in +hand, had seized flags and guns, now began to +fear a uniform more than death. A deep, unconscious +feeling was growing in his mind that he +was being persecuted, that they could do as they +liked with him, and that there was some mighty, +yet malevolent and evil power above him, which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +if he resisted, would crush him. So there he +stood before the Magistrate, as formerly before +Steinmetz, upright, his body drawn in, his chest +thrown forward, not daring to breathe. There +were some officers present also: they represented +war and the military prison to Bartek. The +officers looked at him through their gold eye-glasses +with the pride and disdain befitting +Prussian officers towards a private soldier and +Polish peasant. He stood holding his breath, and +the Magistrate said something in a commanding +tone. He did not ask or persuade, he commanded +and threatened. A Member had died in Berlin, +and the writs for a fresh election had been issued.</p> + +<p>'You Polish dog, just you dare to vote for +Count Jarzyński, just you dare!'</p> + +<p>At this the officers knitted their brows into +threatening leonine wrinkles. One, lighting his +cigar, repeated after the Magistrate 'Just you +dare!' and Bartek the Conqueror's heart died +within him. When he heard the order given, +'Go!' he made a half turn to the left, went out +and took breath. They told him to vote for Herr +Schulberg of Great Krzywda; he paid no attention +to the command, but took a deep breath. For +he was going to Pognębin, he could be at home +during harvest time, the Count had promised to +pay Just. He walked out of the town; the ripening +cornfields surrounded him on every side, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +heavy blades hurtling one another in the wind, +and murmuring with a sound dear to the peasant's +ear. Bartek was still weak, but the sun warmed +him. 'Ah! how beautiful the world is!' this +worn-out soldier thought.</p> + +<p>It was not much further to Pognębin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> +<h3>CHAPTER X</h3> + + +<p>'The Election! The Election!'</p> + +<p>Countess Marya Jarzyński's head was full +of it, and she thought, talked and dreamt of +nothing else.</p> + +<p>'You are a great politician,' an aristocratic +neighbour said to her, kissing her small hands in +a snake-like way. But the 'great politician' +blushed like a cherry, and answered with a beautiful +smile:—</p> + +<p>'Oh, we only do what we can!'</p> + +<p>'Count Józef will be elected,' the nobleman +said with conviction, and the 'great politician' +answered:—</p> + +<p>'I should wish it very much, though not alone +for Józef's sake, but' (here the 'great politician' +dropped her imprudent hands again), 'for the +common cause...'</p> + +<p>'By God! Bismarck is in the right!' cried the +nobleman, kissing the tiny hands once more. +After which they proceeded to discuss the canvassing. +The nobleman himself undertook Krzywda +Dolna and Mizerów, (Great Krzywda was lost,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +for Herr Schulberg owned all the property there), +and Countess Marya was to occupy herself specially +with Pognębin. She was all aglow with the +<i>rôle</i> she was to fill, and she certainly lost no time. +She was daily to be seen at the cottages on the +main road, holding her skirt with one hand, her +parasol with the other, while from under her skirt +peeped her tiny feet, tripping enthusiastically in +the great political cause. She went into the cottages, +she said to the people working on the road, +'The Lord help you!' She visited the sick, made +herself agreeable to the people, and helped where +she could. She would have done the same without +politics, for she had a kind heart, but she did it +all the more on this account. Why should not +she also contribute her share to the political cause? +But she did not dare confess to her husband that +she had an irresistible desire to attend the village +meeting. In imagination she had even planned the +speech she would make at the meeting. And +what a speech it would be! What a speech! +True, she would certainly never dare to make it, +but if she dared—why then! Consequently when +the news reached Pognębin that the Authorities +had prohibited the meeting, the 'great politician' +burst into a fit of anger, tore one handkerchief up +completely, and had red eyes all day. In vain +her husband begged her not to 'demean' herself +to such a degree; next day the canvassing was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +carried on with still greater fervour. Nothing +stopped Countess Marya now. She visited thirteen +cottages in one day, and talked so loudly +against the Germans that her husband was obliged +to check her. But there was no danger. The +people welcomed her gladly, they kissed her hands +and smiled at her, for she was so pretty and her +cheeks were so rosy that wherever she went she +brought brightness with her. Thus she came to +Bartek's cottage also. Although Łysek did not +bark at her, Magda in her excitement hit him on +the head with a stick.</p> + +<p>'Oh lady, my beautiful lady, my dear lady!' +cried Magda, seizing her hands.</p> + +<p>In accordance with his resolve, Bartek threw +himself at her feet, while little Franek first kissed +her hand, then stuck his thumb into his mouth +and lost himself in whole-hearted admiration.</p> + +<p>'I hope'—the young lady said after the first +greetings were over,—'I hope, my friend Bartek, +that you will vote for my husband, and not for +Herr Schulberg.'</p> + +<p>'Oh my dear lady!' Magda exclaimed, 'who +would vote for Schulberg?—Give him the ten +plagues! The lady must excuse me, but when +one gets talking about the Germans, one can't +help what one says.'</p> + +<p>'My husband has just told me that he has +repaid Just.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>'May God bless him!' Here Magda turned to +Bartek. 'Why do you stand there like a post? +I must beg the lady's pardon, but he's wonderfully +dumb.'</p> + +<p>'You will vote for my husband, won't you?' +the lady asked. 'You are Poles, and we are +Poles, so we will hold to one another.'</p> + +<p>'I should throttle him if he didn't vote for him,' +Magda said. 'Why do you stand there like a +post? He's wonderfully dumb. Bestir yourself a +bit!'</p> + +<p>Bartek again kissed the lady's hand, but he +remained silent, and looked as black as night. +The Magistrate was in his mind.</p> + +<p>The day of the Election drew near, and arrived. +Count Jarzyński was certain of victory. All the +neighbourhood assembled at Pognębin. After +voting the gentlemen returned there from the +town to wait for the priest, who was to bring +the news. Afterwards there was to be a dinner, +but in the evening the noble couple were going to +Posen, and subsequently to Berlin also. Several +villages in the Electoral Division had already +polled the day beforehand. The result would +be made known on this day. The company was +in a cheerful frame of mind. The young lady +was slightly nervous, yet full of hope and smiles, +and made such a charming hostess that everyone +agreed Count Józef had found a real treasure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +in Prussia. This treasure was quite unable at +present to keep quiet in one place, and ran from +guest to guest, asking each for the hundredth +time to assure her that 'Józio would be elected.' +She was not actually ambitious, and it was +not out of vanity that she wished to be the +wife of a Member, but she was dreaming in her +young mind that she and her husband together +had a real mission to accomplish. So her heart +beat as quickly as at the moment of her wedding, +and her pretty little face was lighted up with joy. +Skilfully manœuvering amidst her guests, she +approached her husband, drew him by the hand, +and whispered in his ear, like a child, nicknaming +someone, 'The Hon. Member!' He smiled, and +both were happy at the most trifling word. They +both felt a great wish to give one another a warm +embrace, but owing to the presence of their +guests, this could not be. Everyone, however, +was looking out of the window every moment, for +the question was a really important one. The +former Member, who had died, was a Pole, and +this was the first time in this Division that the +Germans had put up a candidate of their own. +Their military success had evidently given them +courage, but just for that reason it the more concerned +those assembled at the manor house at +Pognębin to secure the election of their candidate. +Before dinner there was no lack of patriotic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +speeches, which especially moved the young hostess +who was unaccustomed to them. Now and then +she suffered an access of fear. Supposing there +should be a mistake in counting the votes? But +there would surely not only be Germans serving on +the Committee! The principal landowners would +simply flock to her husband, so that it would be +possible to dispense with counting the votes. She +had heard this a hundred times, but she still +wished to hear it! Ah! and would it not make +all the difference whether the local population had +an enemy in Parliament, or someone to champion +their cause? It would soon be decided,—in a short +moment, in fact,—for a cloud of dust was rising +from the road.</p> + +<p>'The priest is coming! The priest is coming!' +reiterated those present. The lady grew pale. +Excitement was visible on every face. They were +certain of victory, all the same this final moment +made their hearts beat more rapidly. But it was +not the priest, it was the steward returning from +the town on horseback. Perhaps he might know +something? He tied his horse to the gate post, +and hurried to the house. The guests and the +hostess rushed into the hall.</p> + +<p>'Is there any news?—Is there any? Has our +friend been elected?—What?—Come here!—Do +you know for certain?—Has the result been declared?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>The questions rose and fell like rockets, but +the man threw his cap into the air.</p> + +<p>'The Count is elected!'</p> + +<p>The lady sat down on a bench abruptly, and +pressed her hand to her fast beating heart.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah! Hurrah!' the neighbours shouted, +'Hurrah!'</p> + +<p>The servants rushed out from the kitchen.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah! Down with the Germans! Long live +the Member! And my lady the Member's wife!'</p> + +<p>'But the priest?' someone asked.</p> + +<p>'He will be here directly;' the steward answered, +'they are still counting....'</p> + +<p>'Let us have dinner!' the Hon. Member cried.</p> + +<p>'Hurrah!' several people repeated.</p> + +<p>They all walked back again from the hall to the +drawing room. Congratulations to the host and +hostess were now offered more calmly; the lady +herself, however, did not know how to restrain +her joy, and disregarding the presence of others, +threw her arm round her husband's neck. But +they thought none the worse of her for this; on +the contrary, they were all much touched.</p> + +<p>'Well, we still survive!' the neighbour from +Mizerów said.</p> + +<p>At this moment there was a clatter along the +corridor, and the priest entered the drawing room, +followed by old Maciej, of Pognębin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Welcome! Welcome!' they all cried. 'Well,—how +great?'</p> + +<p>The priest was silent a moment; then as it +were into the very face of this universal joy he +suddenly hurled the two harsh, brief words:</p> + +<p>'Schulberg—elected!'</p> + +<p>A moment of astonishment followed, a volley of +hurried and anxious questions, to which the priest +again replied:</p> + +<p>'Schulberg is elected!'</p> + +<p>'How?—What has happened?—By what +means?—The steward said it was not so.—What +has happened?'</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Count Jarzyński was leading poor +Countess Marya out of the room, who was biting +her hankerchief, not to burst into tears or to +faint.</p> + +<p>'Oh what a misfortune, what a misfortune!' +the assembled guests repeated, striking their foreheads.</p> + +<p>A dull sound like people shouting for joy rose +at that moment from the direction of the village. +The Germans of Pognębin were thus gleefully +celebrating their victory.</p> + +<p>Count and Countess Jarzyński returned to the +drawing room. He could be heard saying to his +wife at the door, 'Il faut faire bonne mine,' and +she had stopped crying already. Her eyes were +dry and very red.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Will you tell us how it was?' the host asked +quietly.</p> + +<p>'How could it be otherwise, Sir,' old Maciej +said, 'seeing that even the Pognębin peasants +voted for Schulberg?'</p> + +<p>'Who did so?'</p> + +<p>'What? Those here?'</p> + +<p>'Why, yes; I myself and everyone saw Bartek +Słowik vote for Schulberg.'</p> + +<p>'Bartek Słowik?' the lady said.</p> + +<p>'Why, yes. The others are at him now for it. +The man is rolling on the ground, howling, and +his wife is scolding him. But I myself saw how +he voted.'</p> + +<p>'From such an enlightened village!' the neighbour +from Mizerów said.</p> + +<p>'You see, Sir,' Maciej said, 'others who were +in the war also voted as he did. They say that +they were ordered—'</p> + +<p>'That's cheating, pure cheating!—The election +is void—Compulsion!—Swindling!' cried different +voices.</p> + +<p>The dinner at the Pognębin manor house was +not cheerful that day.</p> + +<p>The host and hostess left in the evening, but +not as yet for Berlin, only for Dresden.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Bartek sat in his cottage, miserable, +sworn at, ill-treated and hated, a stranger even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +to his own wife, for even she had not spoken a +word to him all day.</p> + +<p>In the autumn God granted a crop, and Herr +Just, who had just come into possession of Bartek's +farm, felt pleased, for he had not done at +all a bad stroke of business.</p> + +<p>Some months later three people walked out of +Pognębin to the town, a peasant, his wife, and +child. The peasant was very bent, more like an +old man than an able-bodied one. They were +going to the town because they could not find +work at Pognębin. It was raining. The woman +was sobbing bitterly at losing her cottage, and +her native place. The peasant was silent. The +road was empty, there was not a carriage, not a +human being to be seen; the cross alone, wet +from the rain, stretched its arms above them.—The +rain fell more and more heavily, dimming the +light.</p> + +<p>Bartek, Magda and Franek were going to the +town because the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan +had to serve his term of imprisonment during +the winter, on account of the affair with Boege.</p> + +<p>Count and Countess Jarzyński continued to +enjoy themselves in Dresden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<h2>TWILIGHT</h2> + +<h3>STEFAN ŻEROMSKI</h3> + + +<p>The sun was gliding into a lustrous copper +haze, drawn in wide streaks, like transparent +dust, across the distant scene. It sank +behind some thick red firs left standing at the +edge of a clearing and behind the dark trunks +which lay rotting on the hillside. Its beams still +lighted the corners of a cottage, gilding it and +colouring it scarlet; they penetrated the folds of +grey clouds, and glittered on the water.</p> + +<p>A recent storm had laid the marshy plains and +newly cultivated woodlands partly under water. +Here and on the furrows of the stubble-fields and +the fresh autumn ploughing the puddles turned +red and their irridescent surface became like +molten glass, while entrancing violet shadows, +dazzling to the sight, fell on the grey, beaten-down +clods; the sand hills turned yellow; the +weeds growing on the banks, the bushes at the +edge of the field paths, all borrowed some unwonted +momentary colour.</p> + +<p>In a deep hollow surrounded by sparsely wooded +hills to the east, west and south ran a little brook,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +which overflowed into bays, swamps, shallows +and creeks. Tangles of reeds grew at the water's +edge, lank bulrushes, sweet-flags, and clumps of +willows. The still, red water was now shining in +formless pale-green patches from under the large +leaves of the water-lilies and coarse water-weeds.</p> + +<p>A flight of teals was hovering above with +outstretched necks, and broke in upon the silence +with the swish of their wings. Otherwise everything +was still. Even the glassy blue dragon-flies, +which had been hovering ceaselessly on their +gossamer wings round the stems of the bulrushes, +had disappeared. The untiring water-flies alone +yet strayed over the illuminated surface of the +swamps on their stilt-like legs.... And there were +two human beings at work.</p> + +<p>The marshes belonged to the manor house. +Formerly the young owner, accompanied by his +spaniel, had floundered through them, shooting +ducks and snipe, which were to be found there +before he cut down all the woods. He left quite +half of the land uncultivated, and having very +quickly run through his property, he found no +means of supporting himself until he went to +Warsaw, where he was now selling soda-water +at a stall.</p> + +<p>When a new and prudent owner appeared, he +inspected the fields, stick in hand, and frequently +stood still on the marshes, rubbing his nose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>He fumbled with his hands in the swamp, +dug holes, measured, sniffed,—till he invented a +strange thing. He ordered the bailiff to hire +labourers daily to dig peat, to heap barrow-loads +of the mud on to the fields, and to go on digging +a hole until it was large enough for a pond. He +was to make a dyke, and to choose a lower position +for a second pond, till there were some +thirteen in all; then to cut trenches; to let the +water down, build water-gates, and set fish in the +ponds.</p> + +<p>Walek Gibała, a day labourer without any land +of his own, who was working for wages in the +neighbouring village, was hired to cart away the +peat. Gibała had been groom to the former landlord, +but had not stayed on with the new one. +In the first place, the new landlord and the new +steward had lowered the wages and allowances, +and, in the second place, they made an enquiry +into everything that was stolen. In the time of +the former landlord each groom used half a bushel +of oats for a pair of horses, and took the rest in +the evening to the 'Berlin' Inn, in exchange for +tobacco or a drop of brandy. However, this +business had come to an end at once when the +new steward appeared, and since he justly laid +the blame of it on Walek, he had boxed his ears, +and dismissed him from his service.</p> + +<p>So from that time Walek and his wife had lived<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +on their daily earnings in the village, because he +could not find a situation; he was not likely even +to apply for one, so thoroughly had the steward +taken his character away. At harvest time they +both earned something here and there from the +peasants, but in winter and early spring they +suffered terribly,—indescribably, from hunger. +Large and bony, with iron muscles, the man was +as thin as a board, with an ashen look, round-shouldered +and weakened by privation. The +woman—like a woman—supported herself by her +neighbours; she sold mushrooms, raspberries +and strawberries to the manor house, or to the +Jews, and at least thus earned a loaf of wheat-bread. +But, without food, she was no match for +the man at threshing. When the bailiff gave the +order for digging in the meadows, the eyes of +both sparkled. The steward himself promised +thirty kopeks for digging two cubic yards.</p> + +<p>Walek kept his wife occupied with the digging +every day and all day. She loaded the wheelbarrow, +and he wheeled the mud on to the field +along planks thrown across the swamp. They +worked feverishly. They had two large, deep +wheelbarrows, and before Walek had brought +back the empty one, the second was already full; +then he threw the strap round his shoulder and +pushed the barrow up the hill. The iron wheel +creaked horribly. The liquid, dark, rank slime,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +thick with marsh-weeds, overflowed and trickled +down on to the man's bare knees, as the wheelbarrows +were tilted from plank to plank; it +penetrated to his neck and shoulders, marking +his shirt with a dark, evil-smelling streak. His +arms ached at the elbows, his feet were painful +and stiff from being continually plunged into the +mud, but—with a hard day's work, they dug out +four cubic yards:—and he knew that he had sixty +kopeks in his pocket.</p> + +<p>They were hopeful, for they had earned thirty +roubles by the end of the autumn. They paid +their rent, bought a cask of pickled cabbage, five +bushels of potatoes, a 'sukmana,'<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> boots, some +aprons and homespun for the woman, and linen +for shirts. Thus they could last till the spring, +when they would be able to earn by threshing and +weaving at other people's houses.</p> + +<p>All of a sudden the steward considered it excessive +to give thirty kopeks for two cubic yards. It +struck him that no one would be tempted to patter +about in a swamp from daybreak to nightfall +unless on the verge of starvation, and these people +had undertaken it without hesitation. 'Twenty +kopeks is enough,' he said, 'if not,—well, go +without.'</p> + +<p>There was nothing to be earned at this time of +year, and the manor house had enough of its own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +people to attend to the threshing and machinery;—it +was no use being fastidious in the matter. +After this announcement Walek went to the inn, +and made a beast of himself. Next day he beat +his wife, and dragged her out to work for him.</p> + +<p>From that time forward—beginning when it +grew light—they dug out the four cubic yards, +never stopping work from daybreak until night.</p> + +<p>And now, indeed, night was drawing on from +afar. The distant light-blue woods were growing +dark, and melting into grey gloom. The radiance +on the waters was extinguished. Immense +shadows from the red firs standing towards the +north fell on the summits of the hills, and along +the clearings. The tree trunks alone remained +crimson here and there, and then the stones. +Small, fugitive rays were reflected from these +points of light, and, falling into the deep wastes +created among objects by the half-darkness, were +refracted, quivered for an instant, and went out +in turn. The trees and bushes lost their convexity +and brilliance, their natural colours mingled with +the grey distance, and they appeared only as flat +and completely black forms with weird contours.</p> + +<p>A thick mist was already gathering in the low-lying +country, chilling the man through as he +worked. The darkness was coming on in unseen +waves, creeping along the slopes of the hills, +gathering to itself the dreary colours of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +stubble-fields, the water-courses, the clefts in the +hills, and the rocks.</p> + +<p>As the waves of mist met, others—white, transparent, +and scarcely visible—which rose from the +marshes, crept along in streaks, winding in balls +round the undergrowth, trembling and curling +over the surface of the water. The cold, damp +wind drove the mist along the bottom of the +valley, till it was stretched out flat like a face +on the canvas of a picture.</p> + +<p>'The mist is coming on,' Walkowa murmured. +It was that moment of twilight, when every form +seems to be visibly reducing itself to dust and +nothingness, when a grey emptiness spreads over +the surface of the earth, looks into the eyes, and +oppresses the heart with unconscious sorrow. +Terror seized Walkowa. Her hair stood on end, +and a shudder passed through her body. The +mists rose like a living thing, stealthily crawling +over towards her; they came up from behind, +retreated, lay in wait, and again crept forward +in more impetuous pursuit. Her hands were +clammy with the damp, it soaked through her +skin to the bone, it irritated her throat, and +tickled her chest. Then she remembered her +child, whom she had not seen since noon. He was +lying asleep,—locked up in a room quite alone,—in +a cradle of lime wood, suspended from the +beams of the ceiling by birch-twigs. Surely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +he was crying now,—choking,—sobbing? The +mother heard that cry, as wailing and pitiful as +that of a solitary bird in a desert place. It +rang in her ears, it tormented a particular spot +in her brain, it tore at her heart. She had not +thought about him all day, for her hard work had +scattered all her thoughts, in fact, it had drained +and annihilated her power of thinking; but now +the uncanny sensations caused by the twilight +compelled her to concentrate herself and fasten +her mind upon this small morsel of humanity.</p> + +<p>'Walek' she said timidly, when the man brought +up the barrow, 'shall I be off to the cottage and +finish scraping the potatoes?'</p> + +<p>Gibała did not answer, as though he had not +heard. He seized the barrow and set forth. +When he returned, the woman implored again: +'Walek, shall I be off?'</p> + +<p>'Eh?' he grumbled carelessly.</p> + +<p>She knew what his anger meant; she knew +that he could catch a man under the ribs, gather +up his skin in handfuls, and, having shaken him +once or twice, throw him down like a stone among +the rushes. She knew he was capable of tearing +the handkerchief from her head, twisting her +hair in a knot round his fist and dragging her +in terror along the road; or, in a fit of absent-mindedness, +of pulling his spade out of the swamp<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +quickly, and cutting her across the head without +considering—whether it had hit, or not hit her.</p> + +<p>But impatient anxiety, kindled to the point of +pain, rose above the fear of punishment. At +moments the woman thought of running away; +it only meant creeping into the little ravine, leaping +across the brooklet, and then making straight +through the fields and plantations. As she stooped +and filled her barrow, she was already escaping +in thought, leaping like a marten, scarcely feeling +the pain of running barefoot across the stubble, +overgrown with thick blackthorn and blackberries. +The sharp clods would sting not only her feet but +her heart. She would come running to the cottage, +and open the bolt with the wooden key; the +warmth and close air of the room would meet her +face; she would clasp the cradle ... Walek +would kill her when he returned to the cottage,—beat +her to death:—but what then? That would +be for later....</p> + +<p>As soon, however, as Walek emerged from the +mist, she was seized afresh by a dread of his +fists. Again she humbly begged him, although +she knew that her tormentor would not set her +free:</p> + +<p>'Perhaps the baby is dead in there.'</p> + +<p>He answered nothing, threw down the strap of +the barrow from his shoulder, approached his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +wife, and, by a movement of the head, pointed +to the stakes up to which they must dig that day. +Then he seized the spade, and began to throw +mud into his barrow, time after time. He worked +without thinking, quickly,—as fast as he could +breathe. When he had filled the barrow he pushed +it forward, running at top speed, and said as he +left:</p> + +<p>'Push yours too, you lazy brute....'</p> + +<p>She took this mild concession to the object of +her love, this brutal goodness, this hardness and +severity as if it had been a caress. For it would +be possible to finish the work far sooner if they +both wheeled the mud. Rapidly and impetuously +she now imitated his movements, like a monkey, +and shovelled up the mud four times more quickly, +no longer drawing on her muscular peasant's +strength, but on her nervous power. Her chest +rattled, dazzling colours passed under her eyelids, +she felt faint, and large burning tears fell from +her eyes into that cold, evil-smelling filth,—tears +of unheeded pain. Every time she struck the +spade into the ground she looked to see if it was +still far to the stakes; her barrow ready, she +seized it, and ran at full tilt after the man.</p> + +<p>The mists rose high; they drew past the rushes +and stood over the tops of the alders in an unmoving +wall. The trees loomed through them as +patches of indefinite colour, astonishingly large,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +but imperfect forms, which ran across the deep +gorge like monstrous, terrible apparitions.</p> + +<p>Their heads fell forward; their hands executed +a uniform movement; their bodies were bowed +to the ground....</p> + +<p>The wheels of the barrows clattered and whined. +Waves of mist like milk when poured into water, +swayed amid the darkening hills.</p> + +<p>The evening star shone low in the sky, and +tremblingly threw its feeble light across the +darkness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<h2>TEMPTATION</h2> + +<h3>STEFAN ŻEROMSKI</h3> + + +<p>Countess Anna Krzywosąd—Nasławska's +youngest son had decided to take Holy +Orders. From boyhood he had shown an unusual +fondness for prayer, had been silent and obedient, +and worn an earnest, pious expression. He had +been educated in Rome under the eye of a distant +cousin—a Cardinal—and completed his course at +the seminary there with distinction, when barely +twenty. Having not yet attained the proper age +to hold any spiritual office, he went back to his +own country for the first time for many years, +and stayed at his mother's house.</p> + +<p>He occupied a corner room in the mansion, as +cold and damp as any monastic cell; he slept on +the ground, fasted unceasingly, read Latin books, +very probably scourged himself at nights, and +wore a hair shirt under his shabby cassock. He +was unspeakably good and gentle, forgave injuries, +and was over-modest.</p> + +<p>When he sat down, it was on the very edge +of the chair, as if anxious that when he rose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +quickly his cassock should hinder him and make +him move like a priest; he walked on tiptoe as +if a mystic heel protected him from the dust of +the earth; he shunned society, he murmured a +prayer at the sight of a village girl.</p> + +<p>Every day at dawn he left the house, and went +into the fields. He felt that there he could be in +closest communication with his Creator, there +ecstatic visions came to him most clearly. He +followed the beaten track through numberless +rye-fields to the upland, where a half-ruined little +chapel lay hidden in the shade of the pine forest.</p> + +<p>One morning he went there as usual. The +landscape was still buried in the night-mist, but a +violet streak of daybreak had begun to spread on +the horizon. The bearded rye brushed against +his knees and scattered large dewdrops, yet the +pathway was not damp, being sheltered by the +full drooping ears. The corn, feebly illumined by +the early morning light, rose in great waves along +the hill, where the undulating line of the fields +showed against the wood. The scent of earth +and ripening corn hung on the breeze, bringing a +sense of health, strength, and youth. From the +dark gloom of the huge trees, whose tops were +beginning to break up the expanse of dawning +blue, came the keen, damp breath of the forest. +The seminarist walked along slowly and lazily, +passing his hand over the surface of the rye.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +Sky larks and crested larks rose at his feet, and +dropped again like stones into the thickly-growing +corn.</p> + +<p>The dawn was now tinging the horizon with +a rosy light; it burst forth like a wide flash of +lightning, illuminating the rifts and curves in the +dark clouds which lay idly over the wood. Unexpectedly +hundreds of red firs, crowning the summit +of the hill, emerged tall and grand from the +night, their boughs standing out prominently +against the transparent background of blue, as if +stretching out their arms to the approaching sun.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a thrill passed through the earth. +The next moment a puff of wind, the forerunner +of daybreak, stirred the boughs of the firs, and +announced alike to plant, to grass, and corn—the +coming of the sun.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the earth were quivering, as if +her heart began to beat. Then the wind spread +its wings, and hovered over the scented trunks, +over the osiers and corn in the distance. A long, +soothing moment of death-like silence followed, +and then that mysterious moment of early dawn, +when each living plant glows in its every part +as if on fire.</p> + +<p>The student walked with his face turned eastwards. +Words of prayer rose from his heart to +his lips as the sap rises to the bark of the pines +when Spring comes. He went up to the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +chapel, opened the grey wooden door, studded +with nails, and fell on his face with outstretched +hands before the picture of Christ, clumsily drawn +by a rustic hand.</p> + +<p>He felt as if his soul had fled from earth to the +very Throne of God. The scales had fallen from +his eyes in a moment: he was gazing on the face +of the Eternal.</p> + +<p>All at once a rough, coarse peasant's song was +heard:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'It was then that I liked you best, Hanka,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">When you bleached yourself in the fields, in the fields, like a gosling.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>This was answered by a woman's voice, approaching +from a distance:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'I did not bleach myself, I bleached a linen shirt,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">But you, Kaśka, thought that I was painted.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>The young man rose from the ground, and +stood at the door of the chapel. He saw a sturdy +farmer's lad in shirt sleeves, bare-foot, in a +straw hat, and loaded like a horse, with juniper +wood. This strapping fellow was taking up a +kilo of roots—digging out bushes with the clods, +and moistening his hands in the branches. A girl +was going along the path, carrying a load of +weeds on her back. The corners of her petticoat +were turned up and tucked into her belt, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +broad shoulders were bent together under the +heavy burden, only her head, tied round with a +red handkerchief, was raised towards the hill +where the lad was working. When she reached +the turn of the path, he stopped her, pulled down +the hem of her skirt from her waist, and laid her +bundle on the ground. She pushed him away +with her hands, laughing.</p> + +<p>The student shaded his eyes with his hand, but +dropped it again the next minute, as the sound of +the two singing a fresh song echoed through the +glade. It was strange music. The wood, like a +tuned string, seemed to quiver in harmony with +the sound of those two voices:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">'In the garden is a cherry tree,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">In the orchard there are two;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">I have loved you, Hanuś, since you were small,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Nobody else but you.'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>They went down into the hollow through the +corn, which reached up to their heads, bent towards +one another. Those two heads stood out +in sharp relief against the dark rye, while the +giant, brazen shield of the sun was rising over +the ridge. They walked thus for a long time, +never completely hidden by the corn.</p> + +<p>Tears flowed from under the young man's +closed eyes, and he clenched his hands convulsively.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +Words unknown to him, words known as +longing and the desire for love, forced themselves +unnoticed to his lips.</p> + +<p>In a vision he saw moist eyes and a girl's long +braided hair rising and sinking in some sea +cavern. An unknown force, inexpressibly sweet, +a force which could be neither expelled nor conquered, +rose within him, carrying him far away +into space. His soul threw off its fetters, and +rushed forth in its wild freedom, as a colt starts +for a mad gallop....</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<h2>SRUL—FROM LUBARTÓW</h2> + +<h3>ADAM SZYMAŃSKI</h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + + +<p>It happened in the year,...; but no matter +what year. Suffice it to say that it happened, +and that it happened at Yakutsk in the beginning +of November, about a month after my arrival at +that citadel of frosts. The thermometer was +down to 35 degrees Réamur. I was therefore +thinking anxiously of the coming fate of my nose +and ears, which, fresh from the West, had been +making silent but perceptible protests against +their compulsory acclimatization, and to-day were +to be submitted to yet further trials. These latest +trials were due to the fact that one of the men +in our colony, Peter Kurp, nicknamed Bałdyga,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> +had died in the local hospital two days before, +and early that morning we were going to do him +a last service, by laying his wasted body in the +half-frozen ground.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was only waiting for an acquaintance, who +was to tell me the hour of the funeral, and I had +not long to wait. Having wrapped up my nose +and ears with the utmost care, I set out with the +others to the hospital.</p> + +<p>The hospital was outside the town. In the +courtyard, and at some distance from the other +buildings, stood a small shed—the mortuary.</p> + +<p>In this mortuary lay Bałdyga's body.</p> + +<p>When the doors were opened, we entered, and +the scene within made a painful impression on +the few of us present. We were about ten people, +possibly a few more, and we all involuntarily +looked at one another: we were standing opposite +a cold and bare reality, not veiled by any vestige +of pretence....</p> + +<p>In the shed,—which possessed neither table +nor stool, nothing but walls white with hoarfrost +and a floor covered with snow,—lay a large +bearded corpse, equally white, and tied up in some +kind of sheet or shirt. This was Bałdyga.</p> + +<p>The body, which was completely frozen, had +been brought near the light to the door, where +the coffin was standing ready.</p> + +<p>Never shall I forget Bałdyga's face as I saw +it then with the light full upon it, and washed +by the snow. There was something strange and +indescribably sad in the rough, strongly marked +countenance; the large pupils and projecting eyeballs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +seemed to look far away into the distance +towards the stern frosty sky.</p> + +<p>'That man,—he was a good sort,' one of those +present said to me, noticing the impression which +the sight of Bałdyga made on me. 'He was +always steady and industrious; people who were +hard up used to go to him and he would help +them. But there never was anyone so obstinate +as Kurp: he believed to the last that he would +go back to the Narev.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Yet before the end came +it was plain that he knew he would never get +there.'</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the petrified body had been laid in +the coffin, and placed upon the small one-horse +Yakut sledge.</p> + +<p>Then the tailor's wife—a person versed in +religious practices,—undertook the office of priest +for such time as we could give her, and began +to sing 'Ave Maria,' while we joined in with +voices broken with emotion. After this we proceeded +to the cemetery.</p> + +<p>We walked quickly; the frost was invigorating, +and made us hasten our steps. At last we reached +the cemetery. We each threw a handful of frozen +earth on to the coffin.... A few deft strokes +of the spade ... and in a moment only a small +freshly turned mound of earth remained to bear +witness to Bałdyga's yet recent existence in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +world. This witness would not last long, however,—scarcely +a few months. The spring would +come, and, thawed by the sun, the mound on the +grave would sink and become even with the rest +of the ground, and grass and weeds would grow +upon it. After a year or two the witnesses of +the funeral would die, or be dispersed throughout +the wide world, and if even the mother who bore +him were to search for him, she would no longer +find a trace on the earth. But, indeed, none +would seek for the dead man, nor even a dog +ask for him.</p> + +<p>Bałdyga had known this; we knew it too: +and we dispersed to our houses in silence.</p> + +<p>The day following the funeral the frost was +yet more severe. There was not a single building +to be seen on the opposite side of the fairly +narrow street in which I lived, for a thick mist +of snow crystals overspread the earth, like a +cloud. The sun could not penetrate this mist, +and although there was not a living soul in the +street, the air was so highly condensed through +the extreme cold that I continually heard the +metallic sound of creaking snow, the sharp reports +of the walls and ground cracking in the frost, or +the moaning song of a Yakut. Evidently those +Yakut frosts were beginning, which reduce the +most terrible Arctic cold to insignificance. They +fill human beings with unspeakable dread. Every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +living thing feels its utter helplessness, and +although it cowers down and shrinks into itself +for protection, knows quite well—like the cur +worried by fierce mastiffs,—that all is in vain, for +sooner or later the inexorable foe is bound to be +victorious.</p> + +<p>And Bałdyga was continually in my mind, as if +he were alive. I had sat for hours at my half-finished +task. Somehow I could not stick to +work; the pen fell from my hand, and my unruly +thoughts ranged far away beyond the snowy +frontier and frosty ground. In vain I appealed +to my reason, in vain I repeated wholesome +advice to myself for the tenth time. Hitherto +I had offered some resistance to the sickness +which had consumed me for several weeks; to-day +I felt completely overcome and helpless. Homesickness +was devouring and making pitiless havoc +of me.</p> + +<p>I had been unable to resist dreaming so many +times already; was it likely I should withstand +the temptation to-day? The temptation was +stronger, and I was weaker than usual.</p> + +<p>So begone frost and snow, begone the existence +of Yakutsk! I threw down my pen, and surrounding +myself with clouds of tobacco smoke, +plunged into the waters of feverish imagination.</p> + +<p>And how it carried me away!... My +thoughts fled rapidly to the far West, across<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +morasses and steppes, mountains and rivers, +across countless lands and cities, and spread a +scene of true enchantment before me. There on +the Vistula lay my native plains, free from misery +and human passions, beautiful and harmonious. +My lips cannot utter, nor my pen describe their +charm!</p> + +<p>I saw the golden fields, the emerald meadows; +the dense forests murmured their old legends to +me.</p> + +<p>I heard the rustle of the waving corn; the +chirping of the feathered poets; the sound of +the giant oaks as they haughtily bid defiance to +the gale.</p> + +<p>And the air seemed permeated by the scent of +those aromatic forests, and those blossoming +fields, adorned in virgin freshness by the blue +cornflowers and that sweetest beauty of Spring,—the +innocent violet.</p> + +<p>... Every single nerve felt the caress of my +native air.... I was touched by the life-giving +power of the sun's rays; and although the frost +outside creaked more fiercely, and showed its +teeth at me on the window panes more menacingly, +yet the blood circulated in my veins more +rapidly, my head burnt, and I sat as if spellbound, +deaf, no longer seeing or hearing anything round +me....</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> +<h3>II</h3> + + +<p>I did not notice that the door opened and +someone entered my room, neither did I see the +circles of vapour, which form in such numbers +every time a door is opened that they obscure the +face of the person entering. I did not feel the +cold: it penetrates human dwellings here with a +sort of shameless, premeditated violence. In fact, +I had seen or heard nothing until suddenly I felt +a man close to me, and even before catching sight +of him, found myself involuntarily putting him +the usual Yakut question:</p> + +<p>'Toch nado?' ('What do you want?')</p> + +<p>'If you please, Sir, I am a hawker,' was the +answer.</p> + +<p>I looked up. Although he was dressed in ox +and stag's hide, I had no doubt that a typical +Polish Jew from a small town stood before me. +Anyone who had seen him at Lossitz or Sarnak +would have recognized him as easily in Yakut +as in Patagonian costume. I knew him at once. +And since, as I have said, I was as yet only semi-conscious, +and had asked the question almost +mechanically, the Jew now standing before me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +did not interrupt my train of thought too harshly; +the contrast was, therefore, not too disagreeable. +Quite the reverse. I gazed into the well-known +features with a certain degree of pleasure; the +Jew's appearance at that moment seemed quite +natural, since it carried me in thought and feeling +to my native land, and the few Polish words +sounded dear to my ear. Half dreaming still, +I looked at him kindly.</p> + +<p>The Jew stood still for a moment, then turned, +and retreating to the door, began to pull off his +multifarious coverings.</p> + +<p>Then I came to myself, and realized that I +had not yet answered him, and that my sagacious +countryman, quite misinterpreting my silence, was +anxious to dispose of his wares to me. I hastened +to undeceive him.</p> + +<p>'In heaven's name, man, what are you doing?' +I cried quickly, 'I do not want to buy anything; +I am not wanting anything. Do not unload yourself +in vain, and go away with God's blessing!'</p> + +<p>The Jew stopped undoing his things, and after +a moment's consideration, came towards me with +his long fur coat<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> half trailing behind him, and +began to mumble quickly in broken sentences: +'It's all right; I know you won't buy anything, +Sir. I saw you, for I have been here a long +time, a very long time.... I didn't know before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +that you had come.... You come from Warsaw, +don't you, Sir? They only told me yesterday +evening that you had been here four months +already; what a pity it was such a time before +I heard of it! I should have come at once. I +have been searching for you to-day for an hour, +Sir. I went quite to the end of the town,—and +there's such a frost here,—confound it!... If +you will allow me Sir,—I won't interrupt for +long?... Only just a few words....'</p> + +<p>'What do you want of me?'</p> + +<p>'I should only like to have a little chat with +you, Sir.'</p> + +<p>This answer did not greatly surprise me. I +had already come across not a few people, Jews +among them, who had called solely for the purpose +of 'having a little chat' with a man recently +arrived from their country. Those who came +were interested in the most varied topics imaginable; +there were the inquisitive gossipers pure +and simple, there were the people who only enquired +after their relations, and there were the +politicians, including those whose heads had been +turned. Among those who came, however, politics +always played a specially important part. So it +did not surprise me, I repeat, to hear the wish +expressed by a fresh stranger, and although I +should have been glad to rid my cottage as quickly +as possible of the unpleasant odour of the ox-hide<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +coat,—badly tanned, as usual—I begged him in +a friendly way to take it off and sit down.</p> + +<p>The Jew was evidently pleased. He took a +seat beside me at once and I could now observe +him closely.</p> + +<p>All the usual features of the Jewish race were +united in the face beside me: the large, slightly +crooked nose and penetrating hawk's eyes, the +pointed beard of the colour of a well-ripened +pumpkin, the low forehead, surrounded by thick +hair; all these my guest possessed. And yet, +strange to say, the haggard face expressed a +certain frank sincerity, and did not make a disagreeable +impression on me.</p> + +<p>'Tell me where you come from, what your name +is, what you are doing here, and why you wish +to see me?'</p> + +<p>'Please, Sir, I am Srul, from Lubartów. Perhaps +you know it,—just a stone's throw from +Lublin?—Well, at home everyone thinks it a long +way from there, and formerly I thought so too. +But now,' he added with emphasis, 'we know +that Lubartów is quite close to Lublin, a mere +stone's throw.'</p> + +<p>'And have you been here long?'</p> + +<p>'Very long; three good years.'</p> + +<p>'That is not so very long; there are people +who have lived here for over 20 years, and I met +an old man from Vilna in the road, who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +here close upon 50 years. Those have really been +a long time.'</p> + +<p>But the Jew snubbed me. 'As to them, I can't +say. I only know that I have been here a long +time.'</p> + +<p>'You must certainly live quite alone, if the time +seems so long to you?'</p> + +<p>'With my wife and child—my daughter. I +had four children when I set out, but, may the +Lord preserve us, it was such a long way, we +were travelling a whole year. Do you know what +such a journey means, Sir?... Three children +died in one week—died of travelling, as it were. +Three children!... An easy thing to say!... There +was nowhere even to bury them, for there +was no cemetery of ours there.... I am a +Husyt,' he added more quietly. 'You know +what that means Sir?... I keep the Law +strictly ... and yet God punishes me like this....' +He grew silent with emotion.</p> + +<p>'My friend,' I tried to say to console him a +little,—'no doubt under such circumstances it is +difficult to remember that it makes no difference; +but all earth is hallowed.'</p> + +<p>But the Jew jumped as if he had been scalded.</p> + +<p>'Hallowed! how hallowed! In what way is it +hallowed! What are you saying, Sir? It's unclean! +It's damned!... Hallowed earth?... +You must not talk like that, Sir, you ought to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +be ashamed! Is earth hallowed, which never +thaws? This earth is cursed! God doesn't wish +human beings to live here; it wouldn't have been +like this, if He had wished it. Cursed! Bad! +Damned! Damned!'</p> + +<p>And he began to spit about him, and stamp +his feet, threatening the innocent Yakut earth +with tightened lips and his shrivelled hands, and +muttering Jewish maledictions. At last, exhausted +by the effort, he fell rather than sat +down at the table beside me.</p> + +<p>All exiles, without regard to religion or race, +dislike Siberia: evidently a fanatic does not learn +to hate it half-heartedly. I paused until he had +calmed himself. Educated in a severe school, the +Jew quickly regained his self-possession and +mastered his emotion, and when I gazed questioningly +into his eyes the next moment, he +immediately answered me:</p> + +<p>'You must pardon me; I do not speak of this +to anyone, for to whom should I speak here?'</p> + +<p>'Then are there very few Jews here?'</p> + +<p>'Those here? Do you call them Jews, Sir? +They're such low fellows, not one of them keeps +the Law strictly.'</p> + +<p>Fearing another outburst, I would not, however, +allow him to finish, and decided to change +the conversation by asking him straight out what +he wanted to talk to me about now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I should like to know the news from there, +Sir. I have been here so many years, and I have +never yet heard what is going on there.'</p> + +<p>'You are asking a good deal, for I can't exactly +tell you everything. I don't know what interests +you,—politics perhaps?'</p> + +<p>The Jew was silent.</p> + +<p>I concluded that my present guest, like many of +the others, was interested in politics; but as I +myself did not understand the very elements of +the subject, I began to give the stereotyped +account I had already composed with a view to +frequent repetition of the situation of European +politics, our own,<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> and so forth. But the Jew +fidgeted impatiently.</p> + +<p>'Then this does not interest you?' I asked.</p> + +<p>'I have never thought about it,' he answered +candidly.</p> + +<p>'Ah, now I know why you have come! I am +sure you wish to know how the Jews are doing, +and how trade is going?'</p> + +<p>'They are better off than I am.'</p> + +<p>'Exactly. I am sure, under the circumstances, +you will wish to know if living is dear with us, +what the market prices are, how much for butter, +meat, etc.'</p> + +<p>'What does it concern me if it is ever so cheap +there, if I can get nothing here?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Quite right again; but what the devil did you +actually come here for?'</p> + +<p>'Since I don't know myself, I ask you, Sir, how +I am to tell you? You see, Sir, I often get thinking ... I +think so much ... that Ryfka (that's +my wife) asks, "Srul, what's the matter with +you?" And what can I tell her, for I don't know +myself what it is. Perhaps some people would +laugh at me?' he added, as if fearing I were +amongst them.</p> + +<p>But I did not laugh; I was interested. Something, +the cause of which he himself could not +explain or express in words, was evidently weighing +on him, and his unusually poor command of +language added to this difficulty. In order to +help him I re-assured him by telling him that I +was in no hurry, as my work was not urgent and +there would therefore be no harm in our having +an hour's talk, and so on.—The Jew thanked me +with a glance, and after a moment's thought +opened the conversation thus:</p> + +<p>'When did you leave Warsaw, Sir?'</p> + +<p>'According to the Russian calendar, at the end +of April.'</p> + +<p>'Was it cold there then or warm?'</p> + +<p>'Quite warm. I travelled in a summer suit +at first.'</p> + +<p>'Well, just fancy, Sir! Here it was freezing!'</p> + +<p>'Then you have forgotten, is that it? Anyway,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +with us the fields are sown in April, and all the +trees are green.'</p> + +<p>'Green?' Joy shone in Srul's eyes. 'Why, +yes, yes—green:—and here it was freezing!'</p> + +<p>Now at last I knew why he had come to me. +Wishing to make certain, however, I was silent: +the Jew was evidently getting animated.</p> + +<p>'Well, Sir, you might tell me if there is any—with +us now ... but you see, I don't know what +it's called; I have already forgotten Polish,' he +apologized shyly, as if he had ever known it—'it's +white like a pea blossom, yet it's not a pea, +and in summer it grows in gardens round houses, +on those tall stalks?'</p> + +<p>'Kidney beans?'</p> + +<p>'That's just it! Kidney beans! Kidney beans!' +he repeated to himself several times, as if wishing +to impress those words on his memory for ever.</p> + +<p>'Of course there are plenty of those. But are +there none here?'</p> + +<p>'Here! I have never seen a single pod all these +past three years. Here the peas are what at +home we should not expect the ... the....'</p> + +<p>'The pigs to eat,' I suggested.</p> + +<p>'Well, yes! Here they sell them by the pound, +and it's not always possible to get them.'</p> + +<p>'Are you so fond of kidney beans?'</p> + +<p>'It's not that I am so fond of them, but they +are so beautiful that ... I don't know why ...<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +I often get thinking and thinking how they may +be growing round my house. Here there's +nothing!'</p> + +<p>'And now, Sir,' he recommenced, 'will you tell +me, if those small grey birds are still there in the +winter,—like this—' and he measured with his +hand. 'I have forgotten their names too. Formerly +there were a great many, when I used to +pray by the window. They used to swarm round! +Well, whoever even looked at them there? Do +you know, Sir, I could never have believed that +I should ever think about them! But here, where +it's so cold that even the crows won't stop, you +can't expect to see little things like that. But +they are sure to be there with us? They are there, +aren't they, Sir?...'</p> + +<p>But I did not answer him now. I no longer +doubted that this old fanatical Jew was pining for +his country just as much as I was, and that we +were both sick with the same sickness. This +unexpected discovery moved me deeply, and I +seized him by the hand, and asked in my turn:</p> + +<p>'Then that was what you wished to talk to me +about? Then you are not thinking of the people, +of your heavy lot, of the poverty which is pinching +you; but you are longing for the sun, for the air +of your native country!... You are thinking +of the fields and meadows and woods; of the little +songsters, for whom you could not spare a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +moment's attention there when you were busy, +and now that these beautiful pictures are fading +from your recollection, you fear the solitude surrounding +you, the vast emptiness which meets +you and effaces the memories you value? You +wish me to recall them to you, to revive them; +you wish me to tell you what our country is +like?...'</p> + +<p>'Oh yes, Sir, yes, Sir! That was why I came +here,' and he clasped my hands, and laughed +joyfully, like a child.</p> + +<p>'Listen, brother....'</p> + +<p>And my friend, Srul, listened, all transformed +by listening, his lips parted, his look rivetted to +mine; he kindled, he inspired me by that look; +he wrested the words from me, drank them in +thirstily, and laid them in the very depth of his +burning heart.... I do not doubt that he laid +them there, for when I had finished my tale he +began to moan bitterly, 'O weh mir! weh mir!' +He struck his red beard, and in his misery tears +like a child's rolled fast down his face.... And +the old fanatic sat there a long time sobbing, and +I cried with him....</p> + +<p>Much water has flowed down the cold Lena +since that day, and not a few human tears have +rolled down suffering cheeks. All this happened +long ago. Yet in the silence of the night, at +times of sleeplessness, the statuesque face of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +Bałdyga, bearing the stigma of great sorrow, +often rises before me, and invariably beside it +Srul's yellow, drawn face, wet with tears. And +when I gaze longer at that night-vision, many a +time I seem to see the Jew's trembling, pale lips +move, and I hear his low voice whisper:</p> + +<p>'Oh Jehovah, why art thou so unmerciful to +one of Thy most faithful sons?...'</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h2>IN AUTUMN</h2> + +<h3>WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI</h3> + + +<p>The rain and bad weather, which had continued +without interruption for several days, +had kept the inhabitants of the hut, 'Talaki,'<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> +prisoners indoors, and condemned them to idleness. +They constantly went out of the room +to gaze long and sadly at the weeping sky, for +the hay was rotting in the fields;—but alas! +a grey film of rain hung over all the surrounding +country, and in vain their eyes sought longingly +for the smallest chink of blue in the heavy, dark +clouds.</p> + +<p>To add to the misfortune, the rain, not content +with the holes left in the roof from the year before, +made a number of fresh ones. It thus poured +into the room from all sides on to people's heads +and shoulders, and formed quite a deep and ever-growing +pool underfoot. Various forms of filth, +remains of food, refuse of fish and game, the +dung in the corner where the calves were kept, +which had been trodden down and had dried in the +course of the year, became moist, and filled the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +interior of the 'yurta'<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> with an unbearable smell. +It was therefore stuffy, cold, and damp there. +The fire, burning rather slowly, was choked by +balls of grey smoke, which went across the room.</p> + +<p>The hut was tiny; it occupied no more than +twenty-four square yards of the solitude surrounding +it. The slanting walls, made of barked +larch trees placed perpendicularly, and narrowing +towards the top, diminished its size still more. +The flat roof was built of rafters of the same +wood, and came down so close to the inhabitants' +heads that one of them, Michawio, a big lad, +while unwinding a bundle of nets at the little +window, hit his curly shock head against it.</p> + +<p>A plank partition, hewn out with a hatchet, +ran through the centre of the room, and divided +it into equal parts, the right being for the men, +the left for the women. By a post at the end of +the room, with his face turned towards the fire, +his hands on his right knee, and smoking a pipe, +sat my host, Kyrsa,<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> a Yakut. Still hale, though +no longer young, he was the wealthy and independent +master of field labourers, and the owner of +the house, of many nets, animals, and implements, +as well as of three women:—a wife, and two +daughters. The youngest was sold already, but +she was living with her father, as the sum agreed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +upon for her had not yet been paid in full by the +buyer.</p> + +<p>There was deep silence in the room,—a rather +unusual thing in a place where several Yakut +people are together. The fire roared and hissed +in the chimney, and behind the partition the girls +made a squeaking sound as they rubbed the skins +together. I had a foreboding that this silence +would end badly; indeed, the storm soon broke +out. The lad nicknamed 'Shmata' brought it on +by his incompetence. After wandering from corner +to corner all day, he now upset a bucket and +spilt the water. This was the last straw. All +eyes flashed, and faces grew pale.</p> + +<p>The frightened Shmata tried to lay the blame +on Michawio, who had been stooping down near +him to look for a strap. Michawio in revenge +reminded Shmata of what had happened about +the rake the year before. The quarrel had begun +in earnest. Their tongues, moving with the speed +of a windmill, and throwing out invectives and +sneers, formed an accompaniment to the host's +threatening shouts, which rang out like the trump +of the Archangel. Nor did our hostess fail to +leave her seclusion to take part in the skirmish +with the excitement peculiar to women all the +world over. The yurta suddenly became like a +disturbed beehive. The host affirmed, the hostess +denied, the labourers hurled abuses at one another,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +the girls uttered war cries, the baby woke up and +screamed in its cradle, and the calves lowed in +answer to the loud mooing of the cows, whom +evening had driven near the house door. This last +occurence had a perceptible influence in diminishing +the noise, for it caused the female element +to withdraw from the fight; in fact, the disturbance +might have been conjured away completely, +if the happy thought of adding something at the +very moment when everyone else was quieting +down, had not entered our host's head.</p> + +<p>This remark burst out unexpectedly, like a +belated bomb after a battle, and produced such +a din that the cows and calves were silent, the +wind abated in fright, the clouds fled, and I +became aware of a golden sunbeam penetrating +the holes in the bladder at the window, and falling +suddenly into the interior of our dark, dirty, noisy +hovel. Merrily and brightly it rested in a shining +circle on the closely cropped grey head of my host, +before whose nose his wife's large closed fist was +hovering at that moment. 'That's for you! Take +that! Go on!' Kuimis cried, still beautiful in +her anger. The fist came closer and closer to +the unfortunate man's mouth.</p> + +<p>What happened further? Did Kyrsa avenge +himself like a man for that greatest of all insults +possible to a Yakut from a woman? Or did he +show himself to be the 'wife of his wife,' an old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +woman and a simpleton, as the neighbours called +him, and refrain from knocking out the teeth or +breaking the ribs of the active woman by whose +work he lived and had grown rich? I do not +know, because, foreseeing the overthrow of my +friend, in whom love for his wife was always +struggling against a sense of duty, and not wishing +to be a witness of his defeat, I shouldered my +gun and went out of the cottage.</p> + +<p>The wind had dropped, the covering of clouds +was torn open, and bits of pale blue sky were +unveiled here and there. The sun peeped out +suddenly through one of these little gaps, and the +landscape, which had been dreary and joyless a +moment before, brightened into a golden splendour. +A light shadow, half cheerful, half sombre, +fell across its faded autumn foliage, and in this +half smile it resembled a forsaken woman, to +whom the caprice of a lover, who has already +grown cold, offers a moment of tenderness and +happiness again. Drops of rain glistened like +brilliants on the dark branches of the trees and +bushes; the sky was coloured in shades of carmine, +and the pearly tears of the passing storm +trembled on the willows, still swaying from it.</p> + +<p>Before me, between two high promontories +overgrown by woods which ran in opposite directions, +sparkled the surface of the lake. In +proportion as it stretched into the distance, its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +bank became more winding, lower, and mistier, +until it disappeared at the outlet of a gorge. +Owing to the distance, the tall, thin larches, the +thick willows, bushes, and grass growing there +looked quite small, but the rays of the sunset, +falling on them from behind, produced a wonderful +lace-work of dark branches and leaves against +a pale-rose sky. Grey clouds hung above them, +heavily embroidered with gold and purple. The +waves sported and chased one another below on +the foam-splashed banks of the lake, which was +painted with colours from the sky.</p> + +<p>I walked towards the gorge, by the footpath +leading through a meadow which was now turning +yellow.</p> + +<p>That 'demons' forest'<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> looked dark and horrible +close at hand. The flat hills, uniformly +covered with soft moss of a dirty green, and +with cranberry leaves, undulated gently westwards +towards the sinking sun. The wood covering +these hills was sparse and stunted, and disfigured +them rather than otherwise, for single trees stood +out here and there like the remaining hair on a +bald man's head. Silence, and the gloom of oncoming +night already filled the interior of the +forest. Only here and there a forgotten ray of +sunshine was burning itself out above in the bare, +wind-twisted summits of the larches.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>I stood for a moment, looking at that wild +spot, which no native would have dared to approach. +A deep stillness lay upon it; the waves +beat more and more gently and noiselessly; the +sunset was fading away, and only where the +network of bushes was less close a transient +gleam lighted the surface of some lakes, which +had hitherto been unknown to me. I walked on +towards them, impelled by curiosity and a feeling +of longing.</p> + +<p>The way proved more difficult than I had expected. +At every moment I was obliged to jump +or climb over bushes and avoid the deep, narrow +wells, boarded round with tree-trunks felled a +hundred years before and perfidiously concealed +by the mosses and plants overgrowing them. As +these wells were full of water, with bottoms as +slippery as ice, an unwary pedestrian could easily +break his neck or fracture a leg by falling into +them. In many places swampy streams trickled +along undefined channels, and though their banks +were shallow, they were boggy and difficult to +cross on account of the trunks and branches lying +in them. The wood was full of trees with projecting, +mud-covered roots, which now, when +everything was assuming an indefinite shape in +the twilight, looked twisted and monstrous. The +white patches of lichen shining in the darkness +at the foot of the trees like the immense shreds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +of a pall, emphasized and doubled their weird +appearance. It is, therefore, no wonder that in +the purple light of dawn, or in the moonlight, +the natives should here see the tall wood-demon's +pale face,—the Slav hunter who came from the +South and now roams near the Yakut cottages, +injuring cattle.</p> + +<p>Woe to the district where his shadow passes! +Often from fifty to two hundred beasts fall dead +at one shot from those terrible Southern arms.</p> + +<p>That evening, however, I met none of these +inhabitants of the wood. I also did not see the +'demons,'—the dry Tungus corpses. At one +time they were to be found here quite frequently, +and the forest takes its name from them. Shrivelled +and horrible, they usually sit somewhere +under a tree or cleft in a rock, gazing eastwards +with eye-sockets pecked by the birds. On their +knees they hold a wooden bow, or a rifle, at their +feet lies a hatchet with a broken handle, and at +their belt, inlaid with silver and beads, hangs a +broken knife in its sheath,—also broken, in order +to prevent the dead man from doing any mischief +after death. A little to one side lie scattered the +bones of the reindeer, killed on his grave, the +harness, and the small Tungus sledge. No one +ever dares to possess himself of any of these +considerably valuable articles, for punishment +threatens the foolhardy, inasmuch as he loses his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +way all day long until he returns to the same +place and restores the stolen object. Until they +give ample satisfaction, and atone to the angered +owner by a gift, obstinate people return some +thirty, even a hundred times without being able +to escape from the magic circle. It is dangerous +even to touch any of the things belonging to the +dead man, since that evokes a storm, or, at best, +a high wind. Although the kindly natives had +advised me to avoid meeting with the 'demon,' +since it brings early, and sometimes immediate +death, I was very sorry not to have seized him +red-handed that evening. However, I came to be +severely punished for this sinful wish.</p> + +<p>The twilight deepened. The last purple resplendance +had already faded from the sunset, when +tired and tattered, I at last succeeded in pushing +my way through the bushes of the 'demon's +forest.' The sky was dark, and twinkling with +myriads of stars. My expedition had failed in +every respect. To complete the misfortune, the +white mists hung like muslin over the valley, +and entirely prevented me from satisfying my +curiosity. I was therefore only able to take +pleasure in the play of the moonlight.</p> + +<p>It was really a beautiful view, although rather +wild and gloomy. Nearly the whole of the broad +valley, to the very edge of the wood where the +dark, bare tree-tops projected beyond the border<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +of mist, was filled by white balls of vapour; the +moon was moving slowly above them. Looking +for a moment into the depths of the valley, she +drew aside the floating veil, and touched the +sleeping lake below with her silvery kiss. I stood +a long while to gaze and to rest. The deep +silence, the stillness which always reigns in these +woods, the knowledge that no one but myself +was to be found in that solitude for twenty versts +round, filled me with a strange feeling of anxiety +and longing. I roused myself in order to dispel +this. It was unfortunately time to think of +returning;—no easy matter, however, for in making +my way through the wood, I had lost a clear +conception of the right track. At last I hit on +a small footpath, and decided to follow it in the +hope that it would lead me to some inhabited +spot. I had scarcely gone twenty steps before +becoming persuaded that I was not walking on +a path, but on one of the numerous tracks made +in the wood by water or animals. It was therefore +necessary to return to the place from which +I had started, for only thence could I more or less +trace the way leading in a bee-line through the +wood. But the place had disappeared; the night +had shrouded it in new and different shadows, +and the mist had drawn its silver web across it. +I walked for some time, searching in vain, and +haunted by the thought of forest madness. I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +seen people brought home from the 'taiga'<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> no +longer in possession of their faculties, pale and +miserable, and with the traces of terror and madness +in their eyes. These unhappy men had often +lost their way quite near houses, without seeing +them or being able to recognize the points of the +compass, although the sun was shining, and they +had wandered about, crying and howling like +wild animals. After recovering, they said that +they had seen the demon. One of the causes of +this illness is the fatigue brought on by the strain +of the vain search. So I sat down on a felled +trunk, resolving to wait for daybreak.</p> + +<p>The air was cool. My clothes were wet with +the mist and rain, besides being too thin for +spending the night in the wood, so that I soon +began to suffer from the cold. I tried to light +a fire, but the matches were damp, and the only +one which burnt could not set fire to the moist +brushwood and logs. Having, therefore, gathered +some grass, I hid my feet in it, as they were +suffering the most from the cold; I examined my +gun, and loaded it, and then, crouching against +a tree, I tried to go to sleep.</p> + +<p>In a situation of this kind every sense is rapidly +dulled,—touch, smell, even sight; hearing alone +becomes exceedingly acute. After only a few +minutes I could hear my heart beating, the blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +pouring through my veins, the whisper of the +trees, the rustle of the mist, so that the dead +silence of the wood was broken in upon by sounds, +which, though scarcely audible, continued to increase. +Suddenly a very real sound rang out +amid these fancied ones, and forced me to open +my eyes. It came from the further end of the +lake, and was like the measured strokes of an oar. +I fixed my eyes on the spot whence it seemed to +come. The veil of mist was trembling slightly, +and beyond it, in the distance, something indistinct +appeared low on the water. After a moment +a small Yakut pirogue emerged from the shadows, +and sped along the lake. I could perfectly well see +the rower squatting in the bottom of the boat, and +striking first with one, then with the other blade +of his long oar, from the ends of which the water +poured in a shining stream, like molten silver.</p> + +<p>He soon approached the bank, and drew the +boat to land. I crept towards him, hiding in +order that he should not see me too soon, and +run away, as I knew he would. He was engaged +in taking something out of the boat.</p> + +<p>'What news?' I greeted him, according to the +local custom, coming slowly out of the bushes.</p> + +<p>He started and exclaimed, but did not run +away, for he recognized me, and I him. He +was a poor Yakut, who lived about five versts +from me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> + +<p>'I know nothing! I have heard nothing! Oh, +how you did frighten me,—but it's all right!' +he said hastily, giving me his hand.</p> + +<p>'What did you think it was?'</p> + +<p>'Why should one meet a man in the wood at +night time?' he answered evasively, eyeing me +suspiciously from head to foot. 'You often think +it's a man you know, and you talk to him as if +you knew him, and then it turns out in the end +not to be a man at all.'</p> + +<p>'What are you doing here so late?'</p> + +<p>'I am going home; it's a holiday to-morrow. +I have a long way to go from here to Babylon<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> +for fishing,—thirty versts. You know we're poor +folk, we live by fishing,—we haven't any horses; +so one is always in a boat, always in a boat. As +I was dragging it through the wood I cut my +foot, so I've got behindhand.'</p> + +<p>'You have cut your foot?'</p> + +<p>'It isn't much, for I've stopped the bleeding.'</p> + +<p>'Then perhaps it was you whistling and calling?' +I asked, remembering a strange sound I +had heard a moment before.</p> + +<p>'I!—No!' He was silent, and I noticed him +lean over the boat, and cross himself.</p> + +<p>'And what are you doing here?' he asked in +his turn.</p> + +<p>I hesitated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Looking for ducks,' I lied, not wishing to +frighten him more.</p> + +<p>'Ducks!' he repeated, laughing heartily, and +his white teeth shone in the darkness like pearls.</p> + +<p>'There have never been any ducks here!'</p> + +<p>'Never been any? Why?' I asked, as I helped +him to draw the boat along the edge of the wood +towards the lake, which could be seen in the distance. +The fisherman was limping.</p> + +<p>'The lakes are different,' he explained, 'and +there are as many lakes in our country as stars +in the sky, and the stars are only the reflection +of them. The lakes are as different as the stars:—there +are large and small ones, and some so +deep that you can't reach the bottom; or else +they are shallow, or marshy. In one there are fine +fish, in another small, in some the water's bad, +and makes a man ill, because the cattle go into +it, in others again it's as pure as air.'</p> + +<p>We halted on the bank, let down the boat into +the water, and entered it, the fisherman in front, +I behind. Leaning lightly against one another, +back to back, we sailed along like a god with +two faces of which one was bearded and European, +the other flat, clean-shaven, and Mongolian.</p> + +<p>The Mongolian face continued its conversation, +only interrupting it now and then to give me a +warning not to move when the boat rocked too +much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Everything comes from the water. Even the +cow lived in the water until she was taken and +tamed by man. There are different kinds of +wild beasts and even people living in the water, +as there are on land. Now just look!' and he +pointed with his oar to the long water-weeds +swaying under the passage of the pirogue. 'Isn't +that a wood?' It was indeed a wood, dark and +mysterious, visited only by fishes and drowned +men. Once he had fallen in, no swimmer ever +extricated himself from its thickets.</p> + +<p>'Old people say,' the Yakut continued, 'that +formerly everything was different,—everything +was better, because there was more water, and +that even the sables used to come up to the farm +gates, and there was so much fish that it was +enough to shoot an arrow into the lake to draw +it back with a good catch. But now there's +nothing; the sables have run away, and there +isn't much fish. It's only the traders, our fathers, +who save us, or we should die. They give the +money to pay the taxes, they give tea, tobacco, +and cotton. Eh yes! these traders! I'd just like +to be a trader!'</p> + +<p>The little boat struck the bank. We therefore +drew it along to the next lake, and continued the +rest of our journey in this manner, this being the +sole means of travelling in summer in that country +of lakes, marshes, and swampy woods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>After travelling thus for an hour along a +narrow stream, overgrown with bulrushes, we +ultimately arrived at the last lake. The sparks +from a yurta chimney were glittering on its bank +in the distance, like tiny red stars.</p> + +<p>'I expect you are going to Chachak?' my +companion asked, when we stopped on the bank. +'I am spending the night there.'</p> + +<p>I took up some of the fisherman's things, and +walked towards the yurta. I had known Chachak +for some time past already. He was a queer +man, who laughed at his own extravagances, +and frequently even shocked the feeling of the +neighbourhood. 'Chachak has made himself a +cap of a whole wolf skin!' I had been told laughingly. +'Chachak has paid the merchants only +two roubles for a brick of tea; "they would make +too much profit by three roubles," he said!'</p> + +<p>'What about the merchants? Did they give it +to him?'</p> + +<p>'Eh, why, his old woman gave it to them on +the sly! Why! You don't know Chachak! He +won't give three roubles;—he won't drink, and +he won't give that!'</p> + +<p>Chachak had been famous in his youth as the +best hunter in the district, and wonders were +related of his prowess and skill. He preferred +bear hunting to any other, and set out to it summer +and winter with his spear and gun, killing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +in the open field or lair, just as it happened. He +was as ready for such encounters as he was for +cards. Only let him hear of a bear, and from +that moment he had no peace until he had tracked +and killed it. Many a time he had been invited +to accompany hunters who had found a den with +several bears. But burning with the fever for the +chase, he had been unable to wait until morning, +and had slipped away in the grey dawn with his +faithful dog to hasten to the spot, where he was +usually to be found, pale and splashed with the +blood of the 'forest lords.' There was nothing +left for his companions to do but for each to eat +a portion of the hard heart and liver of the +vanquished, and to drink a cup of blood, shouting +the triumphant 'uch!' three times. All eyes +would be upon Chachak, who would try to appear +indifferent, although excited and feeling the just +pride of a hero. Once, moreover, he had killed +a bear with a tail, which, as everyone knows, is +not a bear, but a devil. Had he not killed the +'icy demon,' who tracked people, carried off +cattle, and whom neither bullet nor spear could +touch? Chachak himself never spoke or boasted +of his victories; he was always modest and reserved, +as befits a man who possibly knows more +than others. Since the accident which befell him +during his last hunt, however, he had been completely +changed. He had given up hunting and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +playing cards, become poor, and grown morose +and strange:—he had lost his influence.</p> + +<p>His yurta stood near the bank, so I quickly +found myself at its gate. A bright fire was +burning within, and voices could be heard talking. +So they were not asleep yet! I went up to the +door, and peeped through the chink. Chachak was +sitting before the fire, with his face towards me, +holding a net which he was not winding, for his +hand was stretched slightly in front of him while +he related something to the listeners gathered +round him. At his feet a small naked child +played with the brass chain of a knife hanging +in a wooden sheath sewn to his leather trousers +above the right shin. Chachak was very animated; +every now and then he bent forward +towards his listeners, and stamped his massive +heel on the clay floor of the cottage.</p> + +<p>'They have a horror of horseflesh, and eat +pigs!' he was saying, 'yet a horse is a very +clean and sensible animal.'</p> + +<p>'Why, yes!' his listeners assented.</p> + +<p>'But pigs!—I have seen them! They're disgusting! +They've no hair! They're bare, dirty, +stupid, and bad tempered! They've enormous +mouths, thin curling tails like snakes, small eyes, +and teeth like a dog's. They're spiteful too!—When +I was at Yakutsk I had an adventure with +the pigs, and they all but ate me. There're lots<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +of them there. I had gone out by myself in the +early morning to finish my pipe in the passage; +everyone was still asleep, and it had only just +begun to dawn. The pigs were going round the +courtyard, squealing. I was young, and liked a +joke, so when they ran round me I shook my fist +at them. They rushed at me like mad!' He +broke off with a laugh. 'I ran along the passage, +they after me; I jumped on to a bench, and they +came grunting round me, while I kept shaking +my fist at them. Ha-ha!'</p> + +<p>He spat into his hand, and stretched it out +before him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the door creaked. The woman exclaimed, +the lads jumped up from the floor, the +children began to cry.</p> + +<p>'Who's coming? A Russian, perhaps, and +pigs with him!' Chachak stopped talking, and +drew back his outstretched fist.</p> + +<p>The entrance, as is usual in a Yakut yurta, +was behind the fireplace, the one source of light +in the evening; thus a full minute of fear and +anxious expectation passed before I entered from +the darkness. Yes, it was a 'Russian,' but a +well-known one, a friend, and, into the bargain, +without pigs!</p> + +<p>Their faces brightened, and they stretched out +their hands, welcoming me warmly and frankly, +as guests are always welcomed in the North.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +Chachak laughed, made room for me on the bench +before the fire, and ordered the kettle to be put +on.</p> + +<p>'Tell us the news, and what is happening,' +they begged me.</p> + +<p>I began to relate the local news. They all +listened attentively, although, as it turned out, +they had already long known it. The companion +of my night journey entered, and the conversation +became general. The men grouped themselves +round the table, on which Chachak's wife had +set supper for us; freshly made soup, sour milk, +and a large pile of fish, dried and smoked.</p> + +<p>Chachak stood at the fire, warming his back, +and did not join in the conversation. His daughter, +a young and rather pretty girl, placed a few +white china tea-cups and saucers on the table, +and the usual Yakut entertainment began: tea +with milk and cold refreshments, followed later +by a hot supper with fish. Although the offer of +meat was very tempting, and we were rather +hungry, we were not equal to tasting all the +dishes set before us. Chachak noticed this at +once, and attacked me about it with his wonted +brusqueness.</p> + +<p>'You aren't eating? You've had enough? +What's this new fashion of going to pay visits +without being hungry? You Slavs eat like birds +when you go to people's houses, but you go home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +and call out: "Wife, the samovar; put the +saucepan on the fire,—I'm hungry." You're disgraceful!'</p> + +<p>They all began to laugh, the old man no less +than the rest.</p> + +<p>A general conversation was started, at first +about different countries and customs, but soon +reverting to burning local questions.</p> + +<p>'What's wrong with Andshay? He's in trouble. +There's no trace of his boy.'</p> + +<p>'None?'</p> + +<p>'A pity! He was a sturdy lad!'</p> + +<p>'Have they found nothing?'</p> + +<p>'No. All the neighbours have been out to +search; they've searched the lakes, they've +searched the wood, they've been searching for a +whole week. But there's nothing,—nothing.'</p> + +<p>'Ah!—sure to be a bear. They say one appeared +in the valley; Kecherges saw him,' +muttered the fisherman, who had arrived with me.</p> + +<p>At the word, 'bear,' Chachak, who was standing +by the fire, silently playing with his fingers, +suddenly looked up. Everyone stopped talking, +and involuntarily turned towards him. His old +wife nervously tried to change the subject.</p> + +<p>'A bear! Where was he seen?' Chachak asked +quickly in a low tone, sitting down on the bench.</p> + +<p>'Oh! Who can tell? Perhaps it wasn't one +either,' the fisherman answered hesitatingly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>'A bear,—depend upon it!' Chachak said +slowly. 'They have found neither flesh nor +clothes:—"He" usually buries the remains of his +prey in the ground,—"He" even scrapes the +blood off. That's just what "He" does. You +say Kecherges saw "Him?"' he again asked the +fisherman.</p> + +<p>'Lies!' the latter answered evasively.</p> + +<p>'Oh! "He"'s clever, "He"'s sly and revengeful! +Andshay must have done something +to "Him" in order to be able to boast of it, or +to have something to talk about. "He" remembers +insults a long time, that's why "He" +has carried the boy off. Although "He" lives +far away, "He" hears in the mountains and +forest quite well what we are saying here, and +understands like a man,—better than a man! +Who knows what "He" is? Skin "Him," and +you will see how like a woman "He" is. But +"He"'s revengeful,—and terribly fierce,' Chachak +added, looking down. '"He" doesn't forgive!'</p> + +<p>'You Russian,'—he turned to me suddenly,—'be +ready for "Him" on the road. Take care! +Take care! Though a bear is big, "He" can go +as quietly as a shadow when "He" wants to +fall upon a man unawares. I advise you to stay +the night with us; there's no joking with +"Him"! Once I was not afraid either, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +now;—there—look!' He undid his shirt sleeve. +It was a terrible sight. The left shoulder, which, +as I had previously noticed, the old man could +make little use of, was shrunk and thin to the +elbow, like a mere bone covered with skin, and +those veins and muscles which were unscathed, +wound round the bone close to the surface. There +was a mass of white scars, crossing in different +directions.</p> + +<p>'I have killed many,—many!' he continued, +'and now I know that they will eat me for it,—eat +me because I'm afraid. It happened like this. +It was rather later in the season than this; it +was freezing. I got ready my spring-gun for elk-shooting, +and God gave me one of these big +beasts. To have carted its flesh, skin, and inside +along a bad road would have needed seven or +eight horses. So I decided to build a larder on +the spot, and to lay the elk in it for a time, till +the road became frozen. I and my boy set out +early to work. The lad was lingering a little way +behind me, and I was walking quite quietly along +the road, and had just passed the willow which +grows on the hill not far from here, when "He" +came upon me. He ran towards me like a dog, +and before I could look round "He" was already +standing on his hind-legs. I reached out for my +knife, but tried in vain to drag it from the sheath. +There was a night frost, and on coming out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +the house I had not wiped my knife, as I should, +after eating, so it had frozen to the sheath. It +was God's hand!—So the "Black One" knocked +me down. Finding myself overpowered, I seized +him by the throat with my right hand, and laid +the left on his jaws, and called to the boy to run +for help. The silly boy jumped on him, and—whack!—went +his pocket knife into the bear;—he +had a little knife that size,' and Chachak +measured with his finger. '"You want to eat +my father!" he shouted. The Black One was +frightened, and jumped into the bushes. But the +boy had hit me in the chest with his knife, and +I should have been killed, had it been able to +pierce the stag's hide. They could scarcely bring +me round again.'</p> + +<p>'And you see from that time, when "He," +sitting on me, looked into my eyes, my mind +has been troubled. I am afraid,' he added quietly, +'very much afraid.'</p> + +<p>Not long after I took leave of my kind hosts, +and went home. The moon was shining brightly, +the mist had disappeared, and the well-known +foot-path shone white before me. I had gone +along it a thousand times without fear or thought +of evil, but this time when I neared the place +where Chachak had been attacked I involuntarily +fingered my knife-handle, and for a moment I +seemed to see the monster lying in the shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +of the bushes, its shaggy muzzle on its outstretched +paws.</p> + +<p>A few years later I heard that Chachak had +disappeared without trace in the wood: the +'forest lords' had doubtless accomplished their +revenge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> +<h2>IN SACRIFICE TO THE +GODS</h2> + +<h3>WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI</h3> + + +<p>Close to where the river Sheroka issues from +a rocky gorge into a broad valley, there is +a wooden column, ornamented with carving. At +this column, which stands in the middle of a +small meadow near the water, the nomad Tungus +assemble annually from the neighbouring +mountains. Hundreds of reindeer in the midst of +a crowd of human beings make a charming picture +as the caravans travel thither together. When +the merry crowd enters the valley the splash of +the river is lost in a ringing echo of voices.</p> + +<p>Their camp-fires, scattered in a semi-circle in +the wood at the foot of the mountains, twinkle +against the background of eternal shadows like +a shining girdle, in which the delicate spring +green and the grey diaphanous tissue of stems +and branches are interlaced.</p> + +<p>This is the most agreeable season in the mountain +valleys; gnats and other insects have not +yet begun to be worrying, the air is delightfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +cool, everything is unfolding and blossoming, and +only the winter snow on the summits of the +mountains lies untouched by the warmth. The +pale, transparent sky above the snow neither +darkens at night nor glitters with stars, but +shines with the Northern light which joins the +sunset of the fading day to the sunrise of the +next.</p> + +<p>The people remain near the column in the clearing +for a whole week. The family elders, grave +old men, meet here and discuss their common +needs, collect the tribute of hides, and settle all +important matters.</p> + +<p>But the young men use the time for love and +merry-making, dancing and races. The valley +rings with laughter and shouting, with the strokes +of the hatchet and the echoes of songs; the +ground trembles under the cloven hoofs of the +furiously driven reindeer; the leather lassoes +swish through the air as they are thrown on to +the antlers of the animals destined for slaughter. +And where work is most active, where life is at +its fullest the jingle of the women's glass and +silver ornaments is sure to be heard.</p> + +<p>So it has been time out of mind. But one year +it happened differently.</p> + +<p>Numbers of people assembled in the valley, as +usual, but the noise of their talking did not drown +the roar of the river. The youths did not dance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +at the meeting place, no reindeer were to be seen +racing. There was no laughter, no singing.</p> + +<p>Nor did the counsels take place in common. +The men assembled in small groups in separate +tents, with a dull look on their sad faces. They +talked without animation; jokes and laughter, so +beloved by the Tungus, were checked by a general +sense of depression, and only rarely indulged in.</p> + +<p>However, they did not disperse, but waited +impatiently for the coming of old Seltichan, without +whom they would not have dared to have +settled any important matters. But the old man +did not arrive.</p> + +<p>'The old man doesn't come, he doesn't come,—and +he won't come,' muttered one of the group, +sitting among his companions, who were circling +round the fire. He was a stout man of possibly +fifty years of age, unlike a Tungus, and dressed +like a Yakut, with a silver Yakut belt. He had +the puffed-up air of a rich man knowing his own +importance. 'Who cares to visit the dying?' he +added, sulkily.</p> + +<p>'<i>You</i> didn't try to escape your fate,' gloomily +answered a poorly dressed old man, as tawny as +copper, and as wrinkled as moss, who was sitting +on the opposite side of the fire.</p> + +<p>'That is true!' a third repeated. 'You don't +try to escape, you don't hide. Didn't I run away, +didn't I hide? And what came of it?' and, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +emotion, he began for the hundredth time to relate +the story of his misfortune. Each time it was +received with equal attention.</p> + +<p>'When the news of the disaster came I was on +the summit of Bur-Janga, and was just getting +ready to go down; but I hesitated, and delayed +my start. For a long while the God had mercy +on me;—I know that!—till one night I awoke +terrified, with a beating heart. I listened:—I +heard what seemed like a shot, and loud calling. +I drew my head from under the cover, and again +I seemed to hear a noise in the wood, like distant +shooting. The dogs whined and howled, as if +they had noticed a bear. I went out of the tent, +and looked. The moon was shining, and an +immense shadow passed into the wood from the +bottom of the valley, avoiding the hills. The +dogs fell at my feet, and I covered my eyes with +my hand, unable to look. My heart beat in my +breast like a frightened bird, my feet were rigid +with terror.'</p> + +<p>'O-oh!' echoed the sighs of the listeners.</p> + +<p>'And what happened next?—A hundred reindeer +fell dead at once. Not waiting for dawn, +we pushed on that very night. We fled, not halting +anywhere, but our herds became smaller every +day. So I divided them, and sent them in three +directions; yet in a few days' time my son,—and +later my daughter,—returned empty-handed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +Then I made up my mind to flee to the end of the +world, where no one ever goes. But is there a +place anywhere, to which no one has ever yet +been? I took nothing belonging to the dying +animals, not even the halters; I left everything. +And when the leader fell I did not even take the +figured band from his head, which had come down +to me from my ancestors.'</p> + +<p>'A-ah!' responded the listeners.</p> + +<p>'The women burst into tears at that,' he continued, +encouraged by the sympathy of his audience, +'but the Russian traders had advised it. +"Take none of His offering, Brother; He seeks +out His own, and will find it everywhere!" So +I obeyed; I left it and fled. At last I had gone +so far that I grew frightened myself:—may be +no one had ever been there before me. There +were no trees anywhere, not even bushes,—only +the same rocks and snow everywhere,—and the +gale. It was impossible to pitch a tent for want +of poles, and I was afraid to send to the wood +for them, so we dug out a hole in the snow under +a rock, and settled ourselves in it. We were +comfortable there, and began to be cheerful once +more, for the plague ceased. One day passed,—a +second,—and none of the reindeer had sickened. +We waited in the silence of fear; we not only +avoided talking, but even thinking about "Him," +for possibly "He" too would forget us! We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +did not allow the reindeer out of our sight, and +we went where they led us, spending the night +among the herd, like the Chukchee. In this +way some time passed. My wife was already +beginning to be cheerful, and I myself thought +that all would be well, and we should grow richer +after a while. But again I suddenly awoke in the +night, torn by anxiety. The moon was shining +as on that other night, and everything was bright +and still all round. The tired reindeer were sleeping +in a heap in the snow. But a shadow hung +in the air, falling independently, and not from a +rock.'</p> + +<p>Again the listeners responded with sighs.</p> + +<p>'I slipped out of bed cautiously, took my gun, +and without dressing, began to steal, naked, towards +"Him." "He" did not notice me, for +"He" was standing on a rock, taking stock of +what I possessed. But when I made a slight +sound as I was hurriedly taking aim, "He" +turned and fixed "His" great burning eyes on +me. I shot between them. What happened +afterwards I do not know. Did "He" hit me, +or cover me with "His" breath? I have no idea.</p> + +<p>'Something like a storm passed over me; but +when I regained consciousness I had not a single +reindeer left;—Tumara was a poor man.'</p> + +<p>The speaker was silent, waved his hand, and +starting to his feet, stood with bowed head, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +an expression of pain on his face. The young +men in the audience also stood up; but the old +men did not stir from their seats, and fixing +their eyes on the speaker, waited for the continuation +of the story.</p> + +<p>'Well,—and then—?'</p> + +<p>Tumara raised his head and began to speak, +but at that moment his look fell beyond the edge +of the circle and became absorbed in the distance, +his face showed astonishment, his lips trembled, +and tears rolled from his eyes. Everyone at once +turned in the same direction.</p> + +<p>At some distance from the fire, and leaning +against the back of a reindeer as white as milk, +stood a grey-headed Tungus in the old-time national +costume. Behind him, holding a riding-reindeer +by the bridle, was a young boy resembling +him in face and dress.</p> + +<p>'Seltichan!' they all cried, 'you have come at +last,—you!—our father! We thought that you +had forsaken us, who are dying! What news? +What have you heard and seen beyond the mountains? +How fare the people of Memel? Are they +living still? Or are they, perhaps, also drawing +their last breath, as we are? And you, our leader, +what do you mean to do? Have you come alone, +or with all your people? Are you going back to +the mountains? Or are you going to the coast?' +The questions came pouring out.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Giving the bridle to his son, Seltichan joined +the circle round the fire, and greeted everyone +singly by a shake of the hand. He sat down +beside the Kniaź,<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> dressed like a Yakut, who +hastily made room for him. Then, pulling a +small Chinese pipe out of his tobacco-pouch, he +filled it slowly. The group became silent, and +sat down again.</p> + +<p>'It is now two months since the plague reached +its height,' the old man answered in a calm, grave +voice. 'The people of Memel have dispersed +terrified and fled to the coast, but by different +ways, in order to avoid the dangerous place. +You need not expect them here. But my camp +will arrive this evening.'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Seltichan, who would ever doubt that +you would come? You are wise, you are daring, +you, we know, fear nothing!' the Kniaź cried, +stretching out his hand towards his neighbour's +lighted pipe.</p> + +<p>A shadow stole over the old man's face.</p> + +<p>'No one can escape his fate,' he replied coldly.</p> + +<p>'But you were born to happiness, Seltichan! +Does not the God love you? When whole herds +were dying everywhere, did you not merely lose +a young calf?'</p> + +<p>Again a cloud came over the old man's face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<p>'He loves me because I keep the ancient customs. +My welfare does not spring from human +tears, but the mountains, the rocks, the woods, +and water bring it me,' the old man remarked +drily.</p> + +<p>His hearers caught up his words.</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed! Your hand was open; you +supported your people in the day of disaster, and +shared in it.'</p> + +<p>'Yet who can help more easily than you?' said +the Kniaź. 'What can I give, for example, I, +who have only goods for sale, and debts? Should +I distribute my debts in these hard times? It is +true, I have nothing against that! Yet I too am +a Tungus;—what would anyone gain from my +accursed debts? They don't breed reindeer,' he +ended, laughing.</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed! We should die without you, +Seltichan! Who supports us? Whose herds are +larger than yours? Who has a better heart? +What family is more distinguished and richer? +Whose sons are more skilled shots, and finer +huntsmen? Whose daughters, when grown-up, +most attract our youths? Are you not the first +among us,—you who neither suffer nor fear, +never lie, and never deceive as we do, and bow to +your fate? You, Seltichan! And to whom shall we +go, if you will not have pity on us?' came from +all sides.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>'The God knows, I will share with you! That +is why I am here!' the old man answered, +touched.</p> + +<p>'Tumara! Tumara!' the Kniaź cried, seeking +the story-teller, 'finish your tale. You will see, +Seltichan, what happens later.'</p> + +<p>Silence prevailed again. Tumara, who was +sitting in the front row of the councillors, stroked +his right ear with his right hand, and began after +a moment's pause.</p> + +<p>'I have told you already how, having lost the +reindeer, we took our goods and our children on +our backs, and returned to the valley. Our children +became ill, and soon died from eating bad +meat, which made us weak too. But what can +a hunter find in the wilderness at a time like +that?'</p> + +<p>'What, indeed?'</p> + +<p>'Very soon we were entirely without food. We +had eaten all our stores, leather bags, and old +thongs, and the women's greasy scarves; there +was nothing left that could have a taste. Do not +we, who encamp on the mountains, know what +hunger is? And was Tumara wanting in courage?'</p> + +<p>'He was famous for it!' the listeners +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'asserverated'">asseverated</ins>.</p> + +<p>'But it happened thus, nevertheless;—we had +been many, and only four were left,—I, my wife, +my son, and daughter. We went on, always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +longing for the sight of human faces. We halted +at all the known spots and ancient resting places, +and everywhere found the cold ashes of fires:—the +people had fled, scattered by the danger. And +our wanderings took us ever further from them.</p> + +<p>'But when, on coming down from the mountains, +we saw bare tent poles, all our courage +forsook us. Notwithstanding, we went on further +and never stopped searching, for it is not an easy +thing for a man to lie down and die in the snow +without giving any account of himself.—We +scraped the rubbish, and turned over the wet +ashes of the cold fires to find a morsel of food, +stilling our hunger by knawing the bones left by +the dogs. At last it came to this that we could +not look at our own children, full of flesh and +warm blood, without trembling. "Tumara, let +the girl die to save her parents," my wife said at +last. I was sorry for the child. She looked at +us, not understanding. "Tala," her mother said +to her, "according to the old custom, when the +family is in danger, the daughter dies first."'</p> + +<p>'That is so!' the listeners affirmed.</p> + +<p>'"Go, Tala," she said, "wash in the snow, +and look at the world for the last time." The +girl understood and tried to escape, but I held +her; so she cried and begged: "Wait till the +evening, perhaps the God will send something, I +want to live; I am afraid!" So we waited and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +watched. The girl was continually going out of +the tent, and looking towards the wood, shading +her eyes with her hand. But each time her +mother was behind her, hiding a knife in her +sleeve. It had already begun to be dusk. The +girl went out oftener and each time stood longer +on the threshold, while I lay in the shade of the +tent, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly +I heard a cry outside, which froze my heart. +My wife came in with the knife in her hand, +staggering like a drunken woman. "Have you +killed her?" "No, the God has had pity," she +said, "there is a large elk running into the wood +close by here!" I jumped up and ran out of the +door with my son. The girl was sitting by the +tent with outstretched arms, while not far off +in the wood stood a large elk.—'</p> + +<p>'Stood a large elk!' the listeners repeated.</p> + +<p>'Is it difficult for a hunter to kill an animal +grazing? But my limbs were dried up with hunger, +my muscles weak with pain, and as I stole +towards my prey my hands shook so much I +could scarcely keep the gun in my hands. But +when the animal had been hit, and tried to escape +into the bushes, we dashed after it like wolves. +And thus the God helped us;—we remained alive +in order to die to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>Tumara ceased speaking, and bowed his head, +again stroking his right ear with his right hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +The listeners were silent. In that moment of +strained attention they seemed to hear the splash +of each individual wave in the river, the swish of +each branch in the wood, as it rocked in the gale. +Suddenly another sound rang out distinct from +these continuous sounds, making all faces +brighten, and all heads turn in the direction +whence it came.</p> + +<p>Young Miore, Seltichan's son, bent down to +his father, and whispered:</p> + +<p>'Father, our people are coming!'</p> + +<p>'Yes, they are coming!'</p> + +<p>The train was actually approaching.</p> + +<p>The old men remained seated, but the young +ones slipped out of the circle one after another, +and assembled in groups at the edge of the bushes, +whence the whole procession, appearing at the +rocky outlet to the valley, could be better seen.</p> + +<p>A young girl rode in front on a dark yellow +reindeer. Her clothes were richly ornamented +with silver, a fact which at once suggested that +she was a great favourite in her family. She +held a long spear in her hand, and wore a band, +embroidered with beads, on her loose hair. As +she rode along, she cleared her path by cutting +away the twigs and gnarled branches which +might catch from behind on the packsaddle or +her clothing. When she raised her spear the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +sunbeams played on the edge of its steel surface +in a fiery gleam, and hovered over her head for +a moment like a will-o'wisp; then, passing along +her shining silver scarf, they fell on her right +hand, and finally faded away in the grass of the +river-islands.</p> + +<p>'Choka! Chogai!' the charming girl exclaimed. +She was accompanied by two black dogs, which +kept running ahead, and then turning back to +examine and sniff at everything, leaving nothing +unnoticed. Following her in a long line came +the laden reindeer, some of which were being +ridden by women, and children who were tied on +to the top like tight bundles.</p> + +<p>At the very end of the caravan two armed +huntsmen, aided by dogs, drove a herd of unladen +reindeer with their calves. The noise, +clatter, and bustle, the frightened calling of the +cows seeking their calves which had gone astray +in the confusion, the jingle of bells, the rattle of +clappers hanging from the necks of the animals +in front, the cries of the men calling to the herd +or keeping it in order,—all this whirlpool of +seething, exuberant life filled the valley with a +resounding echo, and fell on the ear of the listener +as a great familiar song of the happiness and +well-being of a free nomad existence.</p> + +<p>The spectators' eyes glistened. Unable to restrain +an outburst of feeling, they began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +describe the impressions made upon them by the +scenes and faces passing by like fleeting shadows.</p> + +<p>'See, there is old Nioren!'</p> + +<p>'What an energetic old woman!'</p> + +<p>'Formerly all the Tungus women were like +that.'</p> + +<p>'So they say—'</p> + +<p>'Look how cleverly she manages her reindeer.'</p> + +<p>'That's one good thing, but they say that she +bore a son to Seltichan not long ago, and that's +better still.'</p> + +<p>'There's nothing wonderful in that; Majantylan's +wife is older, and she also bore—'</p> + +<p>'Hush! Look, there is Sala, the old man's +daughter-in-law, about whom they sing songs.'</p> + +<p>'But is she not worthy of them?'</p> + +<p>'Yes, indeed!'</p> + +<p>'You may chatter away, but if Miore hears +you, he will give it you!'</p> + +<p>'What can he do to us? I am not afraid of +him.'</p> + +<p>'Look,—look!—Laubzal!—Zleci!'</p> + +<p>'Actually!—What a wild reindeer!—They +needn't have put a little boy on it!'</p> + +<p>'He's a plucky lad! Look!—The old man +will be delighted with him!'</p> + +<p>'And Chun-Me!'</p> + +<p>'Ah! Chun-Me! Chun-Me!' several sighed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +their glances seeking the girl with the steel-coloured +fringe on her head.</p> + +<p>'They say that the Kniaź wants to win her +for his son.'</p> + +<p>'Eh, the old man won't give him his favourite +daughter,—not he!'</p> + +<p>When Seltichan's eldest son rode by,—a famous +hunter, commonly known by the name of 'Sparkling +Ice,'—conversation was hushed out of respect +to him.</p> + +<p>And when the last reindeer of the caravan had +disappeared into the bushes, and the branches +closed swinging behind it, Seltichan rose from +his seat and went away, taking leave of the company +with a slight nod. This was to indicate +that he was expecting them all to come to him +shortly.</p> + +<p>That evening there was a crowd round the old +man's tent, for nearly all the temporary inhabitants +of the valley were present. The host gave +orders for several reindeer to be killed, and +welcomed his guests. With the light-heartedness +of true Tungus, they forgot their sufferings in +satisfying their hunger after their long fast, and +began to dance and join in cheerful songs.</p> + +<p>The old men sitting by the fire watched the +younger ones with enjoyment, and beat time +with their heads, repeating the refrains.</p> + +<p>'What do you think, Oltungaba, will the God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +withdraw his punishing hand, and allow joy to +return to the mountains?' Seltichan asked, turning +to one of the guests, the old man who was +as dark as copper, and as wrinkled as moss.</p> + +<p>'Our life, Seltichan, is a shadow falling upon +the water,' Oltungaba answered meditatively.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>The following morning the people in the valley +awoke in an unusually solemn mood. The day +proclaimed itself rich in events. The weather +was exquisite, the sky clear and blue, without +a trace of cloud.</p> + +<p>Having assembled at the conference, the older +and prominent members of families took their +places in the front row, the younger ones behind +them, and the women and children still further +off, beyond the edge of the circle. Oltungaba, +yielding to numerous entreaties, walked into the +centre, and bowing, said:</p> + +<p>'Why do you ask this of me, regardless of my +old age?'</p> + +<p>'To whom else can we turn?'</p> + +<p>'There are distinguished shamans who are +younger.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Oltungaba, who would dare to prophesy +in your presence?' was asked from all sides.</p> + +<p>The old man was silent, and looked distrustingly +at the excited assembly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<p>'You hesitate,—when, maybe, the last day has +come for many?'</p> + +<p>'I am not thinking of myself, but calling to +mind the ancient customs. Who will interpret +my language to you? A difficult time demands a +difficult language, and a painful time a painful +language. And why arouse danger unnecessarily? +If no brave man is found, must I die?'</p> + +<p>'Let us all die! Surely, Oltungaba, you wish +us well? We are resolved.'</p> + +<p>'Then <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'let is'">let it</ins> be so,' he assented, after a short +moment's thought.</p> + +<p>Two of the most famous shamans offered him +a shaman's cloak with the long fringe, and a +number of metal amulets and musical instruments. +Then they smoothed out the old man's hair, and +placed a horned iron crown on his head. An +elderly Tungus, in attendance on the shaman, +was drying a drum at the fire meanwhile. When +perfectly dry and taut, he tested its elasticity by +a blow with a small mallet. The well-known +mournful sound stirred the echoes of the valley, +and interrupted the talking. A white reindeer +skin, with the head turned towards the south, +was then spread in the middle of the circle. The +old man sat down on it, and lighting his pipe, +swallowed the smoke, and washed it down with +water. Then he poured out the rest of the water +to the four quarters of the globe, and turning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +his face to the sun, fell into a state of complete +torpor. He sat thus for a long while with bowed +head, his hair falling into his eyes, and his look +fixed on the blinding white of the mountain tops. +At length a shiver ran through his body, followed +by a violent sob. The shivering and sobs increased +by degrees until they passed into incessant convulsions +and groans, in part feigned, in part real. +The spectators could be heard sobbing also.</p> + +<p>An old woman dropped down in a fit.</p> + +<p>At the same moment a fleeting, dark shadow +fell on the ground close to the shaman: an eagle +was hovering between him and the sun. A +piercing cry rent the air, and the people bent +like grass before the gale.</p> + +<p>Who cried? The shaman or the eagle?</p> + +<p>No one knew.</p> + +<p>'It is bad, it is bad,' the people murmured.</p> + +<p>'Hush!'</p> + +<p>The drum sounded several times with a deep +and mournful echo, as the crowd was frightened +into silence.—The eagle flew away into the +distance.</p> + +<p>Once more there was stillness, interrupted only +by the shaman's muttering. After a while isolated +sounds, coming, as it seemed, from the distant +wood and depths of the mountain clefts, began +to mingle, like the murmur of a swarm of bees, +or the twitter of birds calling to one another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +Then Oltungaba shook his bells. By degrees +these sounds grew louder, and came nearer, until +they passed away in the roar of the waterfall +and the splash of the rain which was now falling +in torrents. Yet deep and painful sighs, repeated +more and more frequently, could be heard above +the rush of the water. Oltungaba suddenly raised +the drum above his head. Trembling violently, +and covered with the pelting hail, he began to +utter frightened sounds, like a sheep chased by +a wolf. Then, all at once, throwing his hand +into the soft reindeer skin, he became silent, but +continued to tremble.</p> + +<p>'Oh, Goloron!' the shaman groaned, hiding +his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>And there was stillness once more. Nothing +was heard but the shaman's sobs and indistinct +mutterings, accompanied by the beating of the +drum. Above these sounds rose the intermingled +cries of eagles, hawks, crows, and lapwings, +which appeared to be circling in flights round the +mountain tops. Their shrieking and cawing alternated +with the shaman's unintelligible incantations. +It almost seemed as if they foresaw some +dreadful event, and were hastening to bring news +of it in advance to the lords of the äerial world.</p> + +<p>By degrees the incantations became more distinct, +the words more intelligible, till finally the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +first strophe of a chant burst from the shaman's +lips.</p> + +<p>'Do ye hear the roar of the sea?'</p> + +<p>'Ah yes!' answered the attendant.</p> + +<p>'I who am the first in creation—'</p> + +<p>'Verily,' the attendant replied.</p> + +<p>'I, the first among the chosen—'</p> + +<p>'In truth,' the attendant repeated.</p> + +<p>'Let them come blazing, like the shield of the +sun!'</p> + +<p>'Let them come!'</p> + +<p>'He himself like the clouds,—the fiery raven +precedes him—'</p> + +<p>'Riddles for a child!'</p> + +<p>'Riddles for a child!'</p> + +<p>'I am thy son. I, wretched one, walking the +earth, implore thee!'</p> + +<p>'I implore!'</p> + +<p>'Aid my weak strength in this stony path.'</p> + +<p>'Oh, aid!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, drum, my herald, and wind, my wings!'</p> + +<p>'Aye, verily—'</p> + +<p>'I approach you, encircled by winged and +restless—'</p> + +<p>'Winged and restless—'</p> + +<p>'Their claws are open, their throats are extended—'</p> + +<p>'Extended—'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>'The mountains groan, the earth trembles +within—'</p> + +<p>'Ah!—'</p> + +<p>'And I go ever fearfully, yet unhindered—'</p> + +<p>'Protect me, my lord, I cry to thee—'</p> + +<p>'For I am from the suffering nation!'</p> + +<p>'I am indeed.'</p> + +<p>'Mighty helper, angry, threatening saviour, +have pity!'</p> + +<p>'We pray!—'</p> + +<p>'If I err, let me not perish on the pathless +track!'</p> + +<p>'Let me not!'</p> + +<p>'Save the erring, lead me.'</p> + +<p>'We go—'</p> + +<p>Growing more and more animated, the old man +stood up, and began to dance.</p> + +<p>The dance resembled a march. The shaman +described what he met in his path in fantastic +language, and by gestures. The attendant followed +him, repeating his words, and, at moments, +supporting him by the elbow. Thus they came +to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly +the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in +silence, and then sang:</p> + +<p>'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions +below the earth, ruling over the air, sickness, +and death itself.—'</p> + +<p>'Oh, Etygar!'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge +wings, thou, who shelterest from destruction—'</p> + +<p>'Iniany!'</p> + +<p>'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power +of second-sight!'</p> + +<p>'And thou, Normandaï, whose piercing cry +turns the heart to ice!'</p> + +<p>'And thou, iron-feathered Wavadabaki! And +thou, whom we only know by thy shadow!—'</p> + +<p>'I ask what you may require, and what is the +cause of your anger? Restrain your ministers, +withhold your persecutions. Know ye not that +we perish, and if we perish, who will prepare +your offering?'</p> + +<p>'Who will?'</p> + +<p>'To you I come defenceless, entangled in a +long cloak. My head is bent with years, my open +eyes cannot see far.'</p> + +<p>'It is even so!' chimed in the attendant, who +had been silent hitherto, not daring to repeat all +these awful incantations.</p> + +<p>'Going to the sea, and returning to the sea, +I am a Nomad—'</p> + +<p>'Yea, verily—'</p> + +<p>'Ye like dark reindeer, ye like dappled reindeer; +have they ceased to be pleasing?'</p> + +<p>'Have they ceased?'</p> + +<p>'Ha! Ha! Ha! When you dance, do you +forget us, and being merry, do you shun us?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Is it, perhaps, rich furs, silver, glass ornaments, +coloured dresses, sweet cakes, or vodka +that you desire?'</p> + +<p>'That cannot be!' exclaimed the attendant.</p> + +<p>'Fools! Something, were it even everything, +must be taken for the powerful!'</p> + +<p>'Therefore choose a young girl from among us, +and we will dedicate her.'</p> + +<p>There was silence.</p> + +<p>'Oh, fiery Goloron, feared on the earth, proclaiming—'</p> + +<p>Again there was silence.</p> + +<p>Oltungaba beat the drum, and the strokes +rolled like thunder between the awful words, +which, uttered haltingly, seemed to come from +a distance.</p> + +<p>'They give the scraps to the dogs! Let the +people humble themselves, and an obedient man +be found; otherwise they will fade like the morning +mist.'</p> + +<p>'O-oh! How can we possibly give anything, +possessing nothing?'</p> + +<p>'I will therefore tell you how it was in former +days. Let it be he who is proud, he who is rich, +whose sons are famed for their shooting, and +daughters for their beauty; whom all love, whose +thoughts are kind, and counsels wise, whose heart +is brave, whose hand is open, whose soul seeks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +good. We wish to see the bewildered terror, the +pale face, the tears of separation.'</p> + +<p>Oltungaba became silent, and let the drum fall.</p> + +<p>'No!' he said, after a moment's reflection, 'I +will not disclose the name; possibly they may +say; "Oltungaba is jealous." Yet what is +human blood to me? A shaman needs nothing +but his drum.—I have said everything.'</p> + +<p>He concluded the rest of the ceremony rapidly, +and took his place among the spectators, gloomy +and exhausted. Tea was offered to him and the +more honoured guests. The young men began to +kill reindeer for the others, and to put the cauldron +on the fire without delay. Yet none of this was +accompanied by the gaiety and animation which +usually prevails among the Tungus on such +occasions. Those present talked with great +restraint, lowering their voices almost to a whisper. +They behaved with marked politeness to +the family of Seltichan, and took pains not even +to look at their host.</p> + +<p>Seltichan was as calm and friendly as usual, as +if he had not noticed anything, and even tried to +start a conversation with Oltungaba. But the +shaman preserved a gloomy silence. Then Seltichan +began to relate aloud how he had spent that +year beyond the mountains, throwing in various +hunting anecdotes which he told with so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +humour that he was soon surrounded by cheered +and even smiling faces.</p> + +<p>Only his favourite son, Miore, who was standing +behind him, looked gloomily at everyone.</p> + +<p>The frame of mind usual before a meal slowly +gained the ascendancy. And when the pieces of +savoury meat were taken from the cauldron, +everyone had quite forgotten to be sad. Then +Seltichan, forsaken by his listeners, became depressed +at once, and Miore, watching his father +attentively, grew gloomier still.</p> + +<p>Unable to restrain himself longer, the lad burst +forth angrily to Oltungaba, as he approached: 'I +can see that you really want to make away with +the old man.'</p> + +<p>The latter regarded him with angry surprise.</p> + +<p>'You are young and ignorant—'</p> + +<p>'But nothing shall come of this,' Miore +answered, and withdrew, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>This short conversation did not escape other +people's attention.</p> + +<p>By the end of the banquet Seltichan had regained +his usual amiability, as became a host who +was entertaining the second day running without +regard to his herds. But on returning to his tent +he no longer concealed his anxiety, and sat meditatively +before the fire, paying no heed to anything; +he did not even see the supper his wife placed +before him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Eat, Seltichan; do not grieve, my lord; I am +your faithful servant!' she said at last, shaking +him by the shoulder and looking at him affectionately.</p> + +<p>The old man turned enquiringly towards his +wife, and smiled. He ate heartily and with relish, +for, according to Tungus ideas, no event in life +is great enough to deprive a fat reindeer of its +savouriness.</p> + +<p>The following morning Seltichan awoke earlier +than the rest, and possibly for the first time since +becoming head of the family, he did not stir the +half-extinguished fire, but, without waking anyone, +quietly escaped from the tent.</p> + +<p>The sun was shining, although it had not yet +risen above the mountains. The dawn had disappeared, +and it was broad daylight. Here and +there golden lines bordered the blue shadows of +the clefts in the snow-clad mountains. But meanwhile +in the valleys, man and Nature were still +asleep:—the wood slept, wreathed in mist; the +embers glowed faintly on the cool hearths; the +reindeer lay on the moss in the bushes, chewing +the cud. The only sounds were the gurgle of the +river, and the chuckle of the mountain pheasants, +which were leaving their hidden roosting places, +and flying to the tree tops.</p> + +<p>The old man gazed at the familiar valley long +and attentively. Suddenly he trembled. He could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +see a man standing before one of the tents in +the distance; he also seemed to be looking at +the surrounding country. Seltichan's keen glance +recognized Oltungaba, but the tent, before which +he was standing, belonged to the Kniaź. The +old man's face clouded, and he went home.</p> + +<p>'Get up, children!' he cried. 'Heh! Chun-Me! +light the fire! You've had enough sleep for +a day like this!'</p> + +<p>They all sprang up frightened, and began to +busy themselves. The old man looked on with +pleasure while the work was silently shared in +the order established by centuries. The women +put the tea-kettle and cauldron on the fire, and +carried the bedding out of doors; the men, after +examining their thongs and arms, prepared to go +into the wood to call the herd together. The +bustle stopped when the tea was ready. They all +sat down gravely round a plank serving as table, +but as the host was silent, no one dared to talk, +although all, not excepting old Nioren, were +excited. The young women and girls looked at +their father in unspeakable fear. Miore was sad +and angry, but 'Sparkling Ice' regarded the old +man with respect, not unmixed with a certain +degree of curiosity.</p> + +<p>After drinking his tea, Seltichan ate something, +and lighted his pipe. Then he said to his youngest +son:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Go out, boy, and call the people.'</p> + +<p>Miore did not stir from his seat.</p> + +<p>'Do you hear?'</p> + +<p>Not until the command had been repeated +threateningly did the lad rise and begin to buckle +on his things. But, instead of going, he suddenly +threw himself at his father's feet.</p> + +<p>'Are you determined? Are you determined? +Oh, father do not leave us! The family will never +agree to it. I was talking to the young men +yesterday, and they said: "Rather than that, let +all our reindeer die, and we will live by industry." +But if they do decide on that in the end,—let the +fat Kniaź be killed!'</p> + +<p>'You are foolish, my boy,' the old man said +with a smile. 'You do not know yet what I +shall do. I wish to see the people.—Go, I tell +you!'</p> + +<p>'Oh, my lord, why do you deceive us with +hope?'</p> + +<p>'Don't talk nonsense.—I have already told +you—'</p> + +<p>'They will never let us off; it would be better +to escape secretly.'</p> + +<p>'I have already told you—' the old man repeated +obstinately.</p> + +<p>'Oh Father, let us escape, let us escape!' they +all begged, stretching out their hands towards +him. But the old man thrust away Miore, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +most impetuous of them all, with a kick in the +chest, and cried:</p> + +<p>'Cursed birds of ill-omen, cease from breaking +my heart!'</p> + +<p>'I would like to know,' said 'Sparkling Ice,' +who had been gloomy and silent hitherto, 'why +Miore does not obey when our father commands +him?'</p> + +<p>The lad, who was lying as he had fallen, rose, +and left the tent in silence.</p> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<p>Once more the people, from small to great, were +assembled at the column in the valley. The +armed men were dressed in their best attire,—various +kinds of fur, which hung in long fringes. +The sun shone on their ornaments as they took +their seats in small bands according to families. +They amused themselves, wrestled, and in no way +betrayed the reason for coming there.</p> + +<p>The members of Seltichan's family were distinguished +among the rest by their choice arms and +rich clothing, as well as by their strength, skill, +and the proud independance of their bearing. +Seltichan himself, who occupied the seat of honour +among them, watched everything that took place +with great attention.</p> + +<p>'The tribe is enfeebled, and dying out,' he said +from time to time. 'Was it not so with the family<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +of Tumara? Where is Leljel, who was no less +flourishing than we? Where is Nilken?'</p> + +<p>'If you leave us, we also shall be enfeebled +and dispersed,' his family answered him.</p> + +<p>'"Sparkling Ice" will remain after me;—he is +not my son, but my comrade!'</p> + +<p>The grief of Seltichan's family on hearing this +made the old man hesitate as he looked at them.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the excitement prevailing in the +assembly increased, and strange rumours were +whispered abroad. Somehow it came about that +the members of Seltichan's family became more +and more isolated from the rest, and were greeted +with silence when they approached. Miore and +some of the other young men were not disconcerted +by this, however, and continued to mix +freely with the crowd.</p> + +<p>In the evening they all dispersed, but the excitement +did not die down, and was only transferred +to the tents and the camp fires. People sat talking +in low voices until late into the night, alarmed +when they saw anything unusual. Several even +sharpened their spears. 'A man like that does +not die without something happening,' they said.</p> + +<p>On the third day they all came fully armed. +Many of the young warriors brought their spears +with them, and stood leaning on them outside the +circle. The deliberations did not begin, but the +excited whispers which passed round the crowd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +showed the passionate, though restrained, feeling. +All eyes were continually turned towards Seltichan, +who was sitting splendidly dressed among +his sorrowing family, he alone calm and cheerful.</p> + +<p>'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' +whispered several.</p> + +<p>'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' asked +the Kniaź, going from one to the other.</p> + +<p>'Well, and what then?' they asked him at one +meeting. 'Perhaps you think it will be easier to +get hold of the daughter when the old man is not +there? You need not expect it; "Sparkling Ice" +will never give her to you. He has not forgotten +that little affair.'</p> + +<p>'What affair? May all my reindeer die, and +may I stay in one place to the end of my life, +like a Russian in a wooden house, if that is true,' +swore the Kniaź. 'Oltungaba is not a man of +that sort!'</p> + +<p>'Oltungaba drinks vodka!'</p> + +<p>The Kniaź became confused, and did not know +what to answer at once. 'Idiots!' he finally +exclaimed, and stroking both ears, he ran off to +carry his complaints elsewhere.</p> + +<p>All this increased the excitement, and caused +a great deal of talk, which ultimately reached +Miore's ears through Seltichan's kinsmen. +'Father, they are deceiving you,' the youth exclaimed +passionately, going up to him. 'You are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +willing to die, but it is all the doing of the Kniaź; +he has bribed Oltungaba! He thinks there will be +no one to equal him when you are not here! +Father, I beg you, escape quietly. Our tents are +struck, the young men are ready, the reindeer +saddled; we shall be on the mountains before +they have noticed anything. And even should +they do so, are we not your children?'</p> + +<p>Seltichan's face clouded.</p> + +<p>'Let Oltungaba be summoned,—let him be +tried!' he cried, rising.</p> + +<p>'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' exclaimed many of +Seltichan's family.</p> + +<p>'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' was heard on all +sides.</p> + +<p>The grey-haired old man entered the circle +reluctantly, looking as dark as moss.</p> + +<p>'Is it true that you have taken a bribe from the +Kniaź? That out of regard to him you have +deceived us?' they all cried.</p> + +<p>'Wait a little; let one speak! Don't you see +that I have only two ears, so that a hundred voices +only bewilder me?'</p> + +<p>'Then let one speak!'</p> + +<p>The head of one of the most distinguished +families, who was very highly respected, stepped +forward, and sitting down, began to ask questions.</p> + +<p>'Did you take bribes?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Why shouldn't I take them? Don't I live on +men's bounty? Haven't both you and Seltichan +given me some too? The Kniaź also gave one, +but he didn't ask for anything, and I promised +him nothing. Is it not a sin to suspect it? How +is it possible to say such a thing? The man will +die! Ask his people.'</p> + +<p>Witnesses were summoned, and the Kniaź was +summoned. They all stood in the centre of the +angry circle, looking rather frightened, but the +enquiry led to nothing. The only thing that was +clear was that Oltungaba had visited the Kniaź +in his tent, as he had visited others, and had +profitted by his liberality.</p> + +<p>Stroking his ears with both hands, and swearing +with quite unusual fervour, the Kniaź talked at +extraordinary length of his disinterestedness, his +merits, his zeal in safeguarding the interests of +the tribe with the government, and, above all, of +his sacrifices—in paying taxes.</p> + +<p>Oltungaba spoke scornfully, and in monosyllables.</p> + +<p>'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said +finally, turning to the old man. 'Have you forgotten +how I loved and taught you when you were +a boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you +old legends, and about distant countries? Was I +not your father's comrade,—his friend when you +were still a little child, crawling on the ground?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +And later, when you grew up, did I not boast of +you, and you, did you not listen to my advice? +Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among +us? Who spoke wisely and courteously?—You +were always a true Tungus, Seltichan; we all +know that.—Was it the worst who were offered +in olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to +all the tribes that I spoke the truth. I said what +a voice from heaven commanded me to say! May +my face be turned round to my back, and my body +dried up like tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, +and my muscles grow weak like badly dried yarn, +and—may my hand burn, as the heart burns from +unkindness'—here with a rapid movement he put +his hand into the flame.</p> + +<p>They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the +old man away from the fire.</p> + +<p>'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive +me,' he said with emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect +evil. I will go,—I had already determined to do +so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, +you would be forced to go,—so would it be worth +while? There is always one rotten egg in a nest.—Can +a man be a man without reindeer? What is +a Tungus without other Tungus?—I leave you, +but you will not forget me!—Good-bye!—May +your herds increase! May your children grow to +manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May +there be no lack of food in your cauldrons, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +powder in your horns, and of goodness in your +hearts!—I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, +as the rays of the setting sun.—I am going now; +I take leave of you, my people!—Farewell!'</p> + +<p>With a quick movement he tore the figured +'dalys' on his chest, and plunged a knife up to +the hilt into his heart.</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment, his fading glance +passing round them all,—then staggered, and fell.</p> + +<p>A single great sigh burst from the crowd.</p> + +<p>Oltungaba hastily knelt down beside the dying +man, uncovered his breast, and placing his right +hand near the wound, stretched his left towards +the sun, crying:</p> + +<p>'Oh, thou God ruling all things, help us,—shield +us! We are not the last, and not the lowest, +if we can send forth hearts like these!'</p> + +<p>'Hearts like these!' groaned the crowd.</p> + +<p>All, even the stout Kniaź, felt at that moment +as if their hearts beat with the same readiness +for sacrifice as that which was growing cold under +Oltungaba's hand.</p> + +<p>'He was a warrior,' whispered the shaman +after a moment, and picking up the 'dalys,' he +threw it over the face, quivering in its death +agony.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> +<h4>PRINTED AT<br /> + +THE HOLYWELL PRESS<br /> + +OXFORD<br /></h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Nightingale.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 'Człowiek' and 'Słowik.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 'Człowiek' (man).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> A popular song. Skrzynecki was a well-known leader +in the Polish Revolution of 1863.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> 'They are going.' 'Jadom' and 'jadą' are pronounced +similarly.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> 'Macki' = 'Tommies.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Polish 'picie' = a drink.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> Polish ę = French <i>in</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Peasant's dress.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Bałdyga means 'lump' or 'clumsy lout.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The river near his home.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> 'Docha.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Polish.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> 'Talaki,' Yakut for 'water-willow.'</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> 'Yurta' = Yakut hut.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> 'Kyrsa' = white fox.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Native name for this forest.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> 'Taiga' = primeval forest in Siberia.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> A large lake to the N.E. of the Kołymsk district.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> 'Kniaź': Russian 'Soltys' = village mayor.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> + +<div class="tnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Uncommon spellings in original retained.<br /> +Missing/incorrect punctuation fixed.<br /> +Hyphenated and non-hyphenated of same words retained as in original.<br /> + P. iii: Orford changed to Oxford<br /> + P. 8: ditto marks changed to "English"<br /> + P. 55: months had passd — changed to passed.<br /> + P. 81: couse changed to course<br /> + P. 172: asserverated changed to asseverated<br /> + P. 180: Then let is be so — changed to Then let it be so +</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + +***** This file should be named 35456-h.htm or 35456-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/5/35456/ + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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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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: Tales by Polish Authors + +Author: Various + +Translator: Else C. M. Benecke + +Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35456] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS + + + London + SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co., LTD. + + + New York + LONGMANS, GREEN & Co. + FOURTH AVENUE AND 30TH STREET + + + + + TALES + + BY + + POLISH AUTHORS + + + HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + STEFAN ZEROMSKI ADAM SZYMANSKI + WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + + TRANSLATED BY + ELSE C. M. BENECKE + + + Oxford + + B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET + + 1915 + + + + +TRANSLATOR'S NOTE + + +Of the contemporary Polish authors represented in this volume only +Henryk Sienkiewicz is well known in England. Although the works of +Stefan Zeromski, Adam Szymanski, and Waclaw Sieroszewski are widely +read in Poland, none have as yet appeared in English, so far as the +present translator is aware. 'Srul--from Lubartow' is generally +considered one of the most striking of Adam Szymanski's Siberian +'Sketches.' The author writes from personal experience, having himself +been banished to Siberia for a number of years. The same can be said +of Waclaw Sieroszewski; during the fifteen years spent in Siberia as a +political exile, he made a study of some of the native tribes, +especially the Yakut and Tungus, and has written a great deal on this +subject. Stefan Zeromski is also one of the most distinguished modern +Polish novelists; several of his books have been translated into +French and German. + +The translator is under a deep obligation to the authors, MM. +Sienkiewicz, Szymanski, and Zeromski, for kindly allowing her to +publish these tales in English, and to Mr. J. H. Retinger, Secretary +of the Polish Bureau in London, for authorising the same on behalf of +M. Sieroszewski. + + E. C. M. B. + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + PAGE + Henryk Sienkiewicz: '_Bartek the Conqueror_' 1 + Stefan Zeromski: '_Twilight_' 101 + '_Temptation_' 113 + Adam Szymanski: '_Srul--from Lubartow_' 119 + Waclaw Sieroszewski: '_In Autumn_' 137 + '_In Sacrifice to the Gods_' 163 + + + + +POLISH PRONUNCIATION: + + + After k, rz = English sh. + sz = English sh + cz = English ch + l = English w + w = English v + + + + +BARTEK THE CONQUEROR + +HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ + + +CHAPTER I + +My hero's name was Bartek Slowik[1]; but owing to his habit of staring +when spoken to, the neighbours called him 'Bartek Goggle-Eyes.' +Indeed, he had little in common with nightingales, and his +intellectual qualities and truly childish _naivete_ won him the +further nickname of 'Bartek the Blockhead.' This last was the most +popular, in fact, the only one handed down to history, though Bartek +bore yet a fourth,--an official--name. Since the Polish words 'man' +and 'nightingale'[2] present no difference to a German ear, and the +Germans love to translate Barbarian Proper names into a more cultured +language in the cause of civilization, the following conversation took +place when he was being entered as a recruit. + +'What is your name?' the officer asked Bartek. + +'Slowik.' + +'Szloik[3] _Ach, ja, gut._' + +And the officer wrote down 'Man.' + +Bartek came from the village of Pognebin, a name given to a great many +villages in the Province of Posen and in other parts of Poland. First +of all there was he himself, not to mention his land, his cottage and +two cows, his own piebald horse, and his wife, Magda. Thanks to this +combination of circumstances he was able to live comfortably, and +according to the maxim contained in the verse: + + To him whom God would bless He gives, of course, + A wife called Magda and a piebald horse. + +In fact, all his life he had taken whatever Providence sent without +troubling about it. But just now Providence had ordained war, and +Bartek was not a little upset at this. For news had come that the +Reserves would be called up, and that it would be necessary to leave +his cottage and land, and entrust it all to his wife's care. People at +Pognebin were poor enough already. Bartek usually worked at the +factory in the winter and helped his household on in this way;--but +what would happen now? Who could know when the war with the French +would end? + +Magda, when she had read through the papers, began to swear: + +'May they be damned and die themselves! May they be blinded!--Though +you are a fool--yet I am sorry for you. The French give no quarter; +they will chop off your head, I dare say.' + +Bartek felt that his wife spoke the truth. He feared the French like +fire, and was sorry for himself on this account. What had the French +done to him? What was he going after there,--why was he going to that +horrible strange land where not a single friendly soul was to be +found? He knew what life at Pognebin was like,--well, it was neither +easy nor difficult, but just such as it was. But now he was being told +to go away, although he knew that it was better to be here than +anywhere else. Still, there was no help for it;--such is fate. Bartek +embraced his wife, and the ten-year old Franek; spat, crossed himself, +and went out of the cottage, Magda following him. They did not take +very tender leave of one another. They both sobbed, he repeating, +'Come, come, hush!' and went out into the road. There they realized +that the same thing which had happened to them had happened to all +Pognebin, for the whole village was astir, and the road was obstructed +by traffic. As they walked to the station, women, children, old men +and dogs followed them. Everyone's heart was heavy; but a few smoked +their pipes with an air of indifference, and some were already +intoxicated. Others were singing with hoarse voices: + + 'Skrzynecki[4] died, alas! + No more his voice is heard; + His hand, bedeckt with rings, + No more shall wield the sword,' + +while one or two of the Germans from Pognebin sang 'Die Wacht am +Rhein' out of sheer fright. All that motley and many-coloured +crowd,--including policemen with glittering bayonets,--moved in file +towards the end of the village with shouts, bustle, and confusion. +Women clung to their 'warriors'' necks and wept; one old woman showed +her yellow teeth and waved her arms in the air; another cried: 'May +the Lord remember our tears!' There were cries of: 'Franek! Kaska! +Jozek! good-bye!' Dogs barked, the church bell rang, the priest even +said the prayers for the dying, since not one of those now going to +the station would return. The war had claimed them all, but the war +would not give them back. The plough would grow rusty in the field, +for Pognebin had declared war against the French. Pognebin could not +acquiesce in the supremacy of Napoleon III, and took to heart the +question of the Spanish succession. The last sounds of the bell +hovered over the crowd, which was already falling out of line. Heads +were bared as they passed the shrine. The light dust rose up from the +road, for the day was dry and fine. Along both sides of the road the +ripening corn, heavy in the ear, rustled and bowed in the gentle gusts +of wind. The larks were twittering in the blue sky, and each warbled +as if fearing he might be forgotten. + +At the station there was a still greater crowd, and more noise and +confusion! Here were men called in from Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, +from Wywlaszczyniec, from Niedola, and Mizerow. The station walls were +covered with proclamations in which war was declared in the Name of +God and the Fatherland: the 'Landwehr' was setting forth to defend +menaced parents, wives and children, cottages and fields. It was +evident that the French bore a special grudge against Pognebin, +Krzywda Gorna, Krzywda Dolna, Wywlaszczyniec, Niedola, and Mizerow. +Such, at least, was the impression produced on those who read the +placards. Fresh crowds were continually assembling in front of the +station. In the waiting-room the smoke from the men's pipes filled the +air, and hid the placards. It was difficult to make oneself understood +in the noise, for everyone was running, shouting, and screaming. On +the platform orders were given in German. They sounded strangely +brief, harsh, and decisive. + +The bell rang. The powerful breath of the engine was heard in the +distance coming nearer,--growing more distinct. With it the war itself +seemed to be coming nearer. + +A second bell,--and a shudder ran through every heart. A woman began +to scream. 'Jadom, Jadom!' She was evidently calling to her Adam, but +the other women took up the word and cried, 'Jada.'[5] A shrill voice +among them added: 'The French are coming!' and in the twinkling of an +eye a panic seized not only the women, but also the future heroes of +Sedan. The crowd swerved. At that moment the train entered the +station. Caps and uniforms were seen to be at all the windows. +Soldiers seemed to swarm like ants. Dark, oblong bodies of cannon +showed grimly on some of the trucks, on others there was a forest of +bayonets. The soldiers had, apparently, been ordered to sing, for the +whole train shook with their strong masculine voices. Strength and +power seemed in some way to issue from that train, the end of which +was not even in sight. + +The Reservists on the platform began to fall in, but anyone who could +lingered in taking leave. Bartek swung his arms as if they were the +sails of a windmill, and stared. + +'Well, Magda, good-bye!' + +'Oh, my poor fellow!' + +'You will never see me again!' + +'I shall never see you again!' + +'There's no help for it!' + +'May the Mother of God protect and shelter you!' + +'Good-bye. Take care of the cottage.' + +The woman embraced him in tears. + +'May God guide you!' + +The last moment had come. The whistle and the women's crying and +sobbing drowned everything else. 'Good-bye! Good-bye!' But the +soldiers were already separated from the motley crowd, and formed a +dark, solid mass, moving forward in square columns with the certainty +and regularity of clockwork. The order was given: 'Take your seats!' +Columns and squares broke asunder from the centre, marched with heavy +strides towards the carriages, and jumped into them. The engine, now +breathing like a dragon and exhaling streams of vapour, sent forth +wreaths of grey smoke. The women cried and sobbed still louder; some +of them hid their eyes with their handkerchiefs, others waved their +hands towards the carriages; sobbing voices repeated the name of +husband and son. + +'Good-bye, Bartek!' Magda cried from amongst them. 'Take care of +yourself!--May the Mother of God--Good-bye! Oh, God!--' + +'And take care of the cottage,' answered Bartek. + +The line of trucks suddenly trembled, the carriages knocked against +one another,--and went forward. + +'And remember you have a wife and child,' Magda cried, running after +the train. 'Good-bye, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy +Ghost! Good-bye----' + +On went the train, faster and faster, bearing away the warriors of +Pognebin, of both Krzywdas, of Niedola, and Mizerow. + + +CHAPTER II + +Magda, with the crowd of women, returned crying to Pognebin in one +direction; in the other the train, bristling with bayonets, rushed +into the grey distance, and Bartek with it. There seemed to be no end +to the long cloud of smoke; Pognebin was also scarcely visible. Only +the lime-tree showed faintly, and the church tower, glistening as the +rays of the sun played upon it. Soon the lime-tree also disappeared, +and the gilt cross resembled a shining speck. As long as that speck +continued to shine Bartek kept his eyes fixed upon it, but when that +vanished too there were no bounds to the poor fellow's grief. A sense +of great weakness came over him and he felt lost. So he began to look +at the Sergeant, for, after the Almighty, he already felt there was no +one greater than he. The Sergeant clearly knew what would become of +Bartek now; he himself knew nothing, understood nothing. The Sergeant +sat on the bench, and, supporting his rifle between his knees, he +lighted his pipe. The smoke rose in clouds, hiding his grave, +discontented face from time to time. Not Bartek's eyes alone watched +his face; all the eyes from every corner of the carriage were watching +it. At Pognebin or Krzywda every Bartek or Wojtek was his own master, +each had to think about himself, and for himself, but now the Sergeant +would do this for him. He would command them to look to the right, and +they would look to the right; he would command them to look to the +left, and they would look to the left. The question, 'Well, and what +is to become of us?' stood in each man's eyes, but he knew as much as +all of them put together, and also what was expected of them. If only +one were able by glances to draw some command or explanation from him! +But the men were afraid to ask direct, as war was now drawing near +with all the chances of being court-martialled. What was permitted and +was not permitted, and by whom, was unknown. They, at least, did not +know, and the sound of such a word as 'Kriegsgericht,' though they did +not understand it, frightened them very much. + +They felt that this Sergeant had still more power over them now than +at the manoeuvres in Posen; he it was who knew everything, and +without him nothing would be done. He seemed meanwhile to be finding +his rifle growing heavy, for he pushed it towards Bartek to hold for +him. Bartek reached out hastily for it, held his breath, stared, and +looked at the Sergeant as he would at a rainbow, yet derived little +comfort from that. Ah, there must surely be bad news, for even the +Sergeant looked worried. At the stations one heard singing and +shouting; the Sergeant gave orders, bustled about and swore, as if to +show his importance. But let the train once move on, and everyone, +including himself, was silent. Owing to him the world now seemed to +wear two aspects, the one clear and intelligible--that represented by +home and family--the other dark, yes, absolutely dark--that of France +and war. He effectually revived the spirits of the Pognebin soldiers, +not so much by his personality, as that each man carried him at the +back of his mind. And since each soldier carried his knapsack on his +shoulder, with his cloak and other warlike accoutrements, the whole +load was extremely heavy. + +All the while the train was shaking, roaring, and rushing along into +space. Now a station where they added fresh carriages and engines; now +another where helmets, cannon, horses, bayonets, and companies of +Lancers were to be seen. The fine evening drew in slowly. The sun sank +in a deep crimson, and a number of light flying clouds spread from the +edge of the darkening sky across to the west. The train, stopping +frequently at the stations to pick up passengers and carriages, shook +and rushed forward into that crimson brightness, as into a sea of +blood. From the open carriage, in which Bartek and the Pognebin troops +were seated, one could see villages, hamlets and little towns, church +steeples, storks--looking like hooks, as they stood on one leg on +their nests,--isolated cottages, and cherry orchards. Everything was +passed rapidly, and everything looked crimson. Meanwhile the soldiers, +growing bolder, began to whisper to one another, because the Sergeant, +having laid his kit bag under his head, had fallen asleep, with his +clay pipe between his teeth. Wojtek Gwizdala, a peasant from Pognebin, +sitting beside Bartek, jogged his elbow: 'Bartek, listen!' + +Bartek turned a face with pensive, wide open eyes towards him. + +'Why do you look like a calf going to be slaughtered?' Gwizdala +whispered. 'True, you, poor beggar, are going to be slaughtered, +that's certain!' + +'Oh, my word!' groaned Bartek. + +'Are you afraid?' Gwizdala asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' + +The crimson in the sky was growing deeper still, so Gwizdala pointed +towards it and went on whispering: + +'Do you see that brightness? Do you know, Blockhead, what that is? +That's blood. Here's Poland,--our frontier, say,--do you understand? +But there in the distance, where it's so bright, that's France +itself.' + +'And shall we be there soon?' + +'Why are you in such a hurry? They say that it's a terribly long way. +But never fear, the French will come out to meet us.' + +Bartek's Pognebin brain began to work laboriously. After some moments +he asked: 'Wojtek.' + +'Yes?' + +'What sort of people are these Frenchmen?' + +Here Wojtek's wisdom suddenly became aware of a pitfall into which it +might be easier to tumble headforemost than to come out again. He knew +that the French were the French. He had heard something about them +from old people, who had related that they were always fighting with +everyone; he knew at least that they were very strange people. But how +could he explain this to Bartek to make him understand how strange +they were? First of all, therefore, he repeated the question, 'What +sort of people?' + +'Why, yes.' + +Now there were three nations known to Wojtek: living in the centre +were the Poles; on the one side were the Russians, on the other the +Germans. But there were various kinds of Germans. Preferring, +therefore, to be clear rather than accurate, he said: + +'What sort of people are the French? How can I tell you; they must be +like the Germans, only worse.' + +At which Bartek exclaimed: 'Oh, the low vermin!' + +Up to that time he had had one feeling only with regard to the French, +and that was a feeling of unspeakable fear. Henceforth this Prussian +Reservist cherished the hatred of a true patriot towards them. But not +feeling quite clear about it all, he asked again: 'Then Germans will +be fighting Germans?' + +Here Wojtek, like a second Socrates, chose to adopt a simile, and +answered: + +'But doesn't your dog, Lysek, fight with my Burek?' + +Bartek opened his mouth and looked at his instructor for a moment: +'Ah! true.' + +'And the Austrians are Germans,' explained Wojtek, 'and haven't they +fought against us? Old Swierzcz said that when he was in that war +Steinmetz used to shout: "On, boys, at the Germans!" Only that's not +so easy with the French.' + +'Good God!' + +'The French have never been beaten in any war. When they attack you, +don't be afraid, don't disgrace yourself. Each man is worth two or +three of us, and they wear beards like Jews. There are some as dark +as the devil. Now that you know what they are like, commend yourself +to God!' + +'Well, but then why do we run after them?' Bartek asked in +desperation. + +This philosophical remark was possibly not as stupid as it appeared to +Wojtek, who, evidently influenced by official opinion, quickly had his +answer ready. + +'I would rather not have gone myself, but if we don't run after them, +they will run after us. There's no help for it. You have read what the +papers say. It's against us peasants that they bear the chief grudge. +People say that they have their eyes on Poland, because they want to +smuggle vodka out of the country, and the Government won't allow it, +and that's why there's war. Now do you understand?' + +'I cannot understand,' Bartek said resignedly. + +'They are also as greedy for our women as a dog for a bone,' Wojtek +continued. + +'But surely they would respect Magda, for example?' + +'They don't even respect age!' + +'Oh!' cried Bartek in a voice implying, 'If that is so then I will +fight!' + +In fact this seemed to him really too much. Let them continue to +smuggle vodka out of Poland,--but let them dare to touch Magda! Our +friend Bartek now began to regard the whole war from the standpoint of +his own interests, and took courage in the thought of how many +soldiers and cannon were going out in defence of Magda, who was in +danger of being outraged by the French. He arrived at the conviction +that there was nothing for it but to go out against them. + +Meanwhile the brightness had faded from the sky, and it had grown +dark. The carriages began to rock violently on the uneven rails, and +the helmets and bayonets shook from right to left to the rhythm of the +rocking. Hour after hour passed by. Millions of sparks flew from the +engine and crossed one another in the darkness, serpentining in long +golden lines. For a while Bartek could not sleep. Like those sparks in +the wind, thoughts leapt into his mind about Magda, about Pognebin, +the French and the Germans. He felt that though he would have liked to +have lain down on the bench on which he was sitting, he could not do +so. He fell asleep, it is true, but it was a heavy, unrefreshing +sleep, and he was at once pursued by dreams. He saw his dog, Lysek, +fighting with Wojtek's Burek, till all their hair was torn off. He was +running for a stick to stop them, when suddenly he saw something else: +sitting with his arm round Magda was a dark Frenchman, as dark as the +earth; but Magda was smiling contentedly. Some Frenchmen jeered at +Bartek, and pointed their fingers at him. In reality it was the engine +screaming, but it seemed to him that the French were calling, 'Magda! +Magda! Magda!' 'Hold your tongue, thieves,' Bartek shouted, 'leave my +wife alone!' but they continued calling 'Magda! Magda! Magda!' Lysek +and Burek started barking, and all Pognebin cried out, 'Don't let your +wife go!' Was he bound, or what was the matter? No, he rushed forward, +tore at the cord and broke it, seized the Frenchman by the head,--and +suddenly--! + +Suddenly he was seized with severe pain, as from a heavy blow. Bartek +awoke and dragged his feet to the ground. The whole carriage awoke, +and everyone asked, 'What has happened?' In his sleep the unfortunate +Bartek had seized the Sergeant by the head. He stood up immediately, +as straight as a fiddle-string, two fingers at his forehead; but the +Sergeant waved his hand, and shouted like mad: + +'Ach, Sie! beast of a Pole! I'll knock all the teeth out of your +head,--blockhead!' + +The Sergeant shouted until he was hoarse with rage, and Bartek stood +saluting all the while. Some of the soldiers bit their lips in order +not to laugh, but they were half afraid, too. A parting shot burst +forth from the Sergeant's lips: + +'You Polish Ox! Ox from Podolia!' + +Ultimately everything became quiet again. Bartek sat back in his old +place. He was conscious of nothing but that his cheek was swollen, +and, as if playing him a trick, the engine kept repeating: + +'Magda! Magda! Magda!' + +He felt a heavy weight of sorrow upon him. + + +CHAPTER III + +It was morning! + +The fitful, pale light fell on faces sleepy and worn with a long +restless night. The soldiers were sleeping in discomfort on the seats, +some with their heads thrown forward, others with their noses in the +air. The dawn was rising and flooding all the world with crimson +light. The air was fresh and keen. The soldiers awoke. The morning +rays were drawing away shadows and mist into some region unknown. +Alas! and where was now Pognebin, where Great and Little Kzrywda, +where Mizerow? Everything was strange and different. The summits of +the hills were overgrown with trees; in the valleys were houses hidden +under red roofs, with dark crucifixes on the white walls,--beautiful +houses like mansions, covered with vines. Here, churches with spires, +there, factory chimneys with wreaths of purple smoke. There were only +straight lines, level banks, and fields of corn. The inhabitants +swarmed like ants. They passed villages and towns, and the train went +through a number of unimportant stations without stopping. Something +must have happened, for there were crowds to be seen everywhere. When +the sun slowly began to appear from behind the hills, one or two of +the soldiers commenced saying a prayer aloud. Others followed their +example, and the first rays of splendour fell on the men's earnest, +devout faces. + +Meanwhile the train had stopped at a larger station. A crowd of people +immediately surrounded it: news had come from the seat of war. +Victory! Victory! Telegrams had been arriving for several hours. +Everyone had anticipated defeat, so when roused by the unexpected +news, their joy knew no bounds. People rushed half-clad from their +houses and their beds, and ran to the post-office. Flags were waving +from the roofs, and handkerchiefs from everyone's hands. Beer, tobacco +and cigars were carried to the carriages. The enthusiasm was +unspeakable; everyone's face was beaming. 'Die Wacht am Rhein' filled +the air continuously like a tempest. Not a few were weeping, others +embraced one another. The enthusiasm animating the crowd imparted +itself to the gallant soldiers, their courage rose, and they too began +to sing. The carriages trembled with their strong voices, and the +crowd listened in wonder to their unintelligible songs. The men from +Pognebin sang: + + 'Bartoszu! Bartoszu! never lose hope!' + +'The Poles, the Poles!' repeated the crowd by way of explanation, +and, gathering round the carriages, admired their soldierly bearing, +and added to their joy by relating anecdotes of the remarkable courage +of these Polish Regiments. + +Bartek had unshaven cheeks, which, in addition to his yellow +moustache, goggle-eyes, and large bony face, made him look terrifying. +They gazed at him as at some wild beast. These, then, were the men who +were to defend Germany! Such were they who had just disposed of the +French! Bartek smiled with satisfaction, for he too was pleased that +they had beaten the French. Now they would not go to Pognebin, they +would not make off with Magda, nor capture his land. So he smiled, but +as his cheek hurt him badly, he made a grimace at the same time, and +did certainly look terrifying. Then, displaying the appetite of a +Homeric warrior, he caused pea-sausages and pints of beer to disappear +into his mouth as into a vacuum. People in the crowd gave him cigars +and pence, and they all drank to one another. + +'There's some good in this German nation,' he said to Wojtek, adding +after a moment, 'and you know they have beaten the French!' + +But Wojtek, the sceptic, cast a shadow on his joy. Wojtek had +forebodings, like Cassandra: + +'The French always allow themselves to be beaten at first, in order to +take you in, and then they set to until they have cut you to pieces!' + +Wojtek did not know that the greater part of Europe shared his +opinion, in general, and in particular now. + +They travelled on. All the houses were covered with flags. They +stopped a long while at several of the stations, because there was a +block of trains everywhere. Troops were hastening from all sides of +Germany to reinforce their brothers in arms. The trains were swathed +in green wreaths, and the Lancers had decorated their lances with the +bunches of flowers given them on the way. The majority of these +Lancers also were Poles. More than one conversation and greeting was +heard passing from carriage to carriage: + +'How are you, old fellow, and where is God Almighty leading you?' + +Meanwhile to the accompaniment of the train rumbling along the rails, +the well-known song rang out:-- + + 'Flirt with us, soldiers! dears!' + Cried the girls of Sandomierz. + +And soon Bartek and his comrades caught up the refrain:-- + + Gaily forth the answer burst: + 'Bless you, dears! but dinner first!' + +As many as had gone out from Pognebin in sorrow were now filled with +enthusiasm and spirit. A train which had arrived from France with the +first batch of wounded, damped this feeling of cheerfulness, however. +It stopped at Deutz, and waited a long time to allow the trains +hurrying to the seat of war to go by. The men were marched across the +bridge _en route_ for Cologne. Bartek ran forward with several others +to look at the sick and wounded. Some lay in closed, others in open +carriages, and these could be seen well. At the first glance our +hero's heart was again in his mouth. + +'Come here, Wojtek,' he cried in terror. 'See how many of our +countrymen the Frenchmen have done for!' + +It was indeed a sight! Pale, exhausted faces, some darkened by +gunpowder or by pain, or stained with blood. To the sounds of +universal rejoicing these men only responded by groans. Some were +cursing the war, the French and the Germans. Parched lips called every +moment for water, eyes rolled in delirium. Here and there, amongst the +wounded, were the rigid faces of the dead, in some cases peaceful, +with blue lines round their eyes, in others contorted through the +death struggle, with terrifying eyes and grinning teeth. Bartek saw +the bloody fruits of war for the first time, and once more confusion +reigned in his mind. He seemed quite stupefied, as, standing in the +crowd, with his mouth open, he was elbowed from every side, and +pomelled on the neck by the police. He sought Wojtek's eyes, nudged +him, and said, + +'Wojtek, may Heaven preserve us! It's horrible!' + +'It will be just the same with you.' + +'Jesu! Mary! That human beings should murder one another like this! +When a fellow kills another the police take him off to the magistrate +and prison!' + +'Well, but now whoever kills most human beings is to be praised. What +were you thinking of, Blockhead: did you think you would use gunpowder +as in the manoeuvres, and would shoot at targets instead of people?' + +Here the difference between theory and practice certainly stood out +clearly. Notwithstanding that our friend Bartek was a soldier, had +attended manoeuvres and drill, had practised rifle shooting, had +known that the object of war was to kill people, now, when he saw +blood flowing, and all the misery of war, it made him feel so sick and +miserable he could hardly keep himself upright. He was impressed anew +with respect for the French; this diminished, however, when they +arrived at Cologne from Deutz. At the Central Station they saw +prisoners for the first time. Surrounding them was a number of +soldiers and people, who gazed at them with interest, but without +hostility. Bartek elbowed his way through the crowd, and, looking into +the carriage, was amazed. + +A troop of French infantry in ragged cloaks, small, dirty, and +emaciated, were packed into the carriages like a cask of herrings. +Many of them stretched out their hands for the trifling gifts +presented to them by the crowd, if the sentinels did not prevent them. +Judging from what he had heard from Wojtek, Bartek had had a wholly +different impression of the French, and this took his breath away. He +looked to see if Wojtek were anywhere about, and found him standing +close by. + +'What did you say?' asked Bartek. 'By all the Saints! I shouldn't be +more surprised if I had lost my head!' + +'They must have been starved somehow,' answered Wojtek, equally +disillusioned. + +'What are they jabbering?' + +'It's certainly not Polish.' + +Reassured by this impression, Bartek walked on past the carriages. +'Miserable wretches!' he said, when he had finished his review of the +Regulars. + +But the last carriages contained Zouaves, and these gave Bartek food +for further reflection. From the fact that they sat huddled together +in the carriages, it was impossible to discover whether each man were +equal to two or three ordinary men; but, through the window, he saw +the long, martial beards, and grave faces of veteran soldiers with +dark complexions and alarmingly shining eyes. Again Bartek's heart +leapt to his mouth. + +'These are the worst of all,' he whispered low, as if afraid they +might hear him. + +'You have not yet seen those who have not let themselves be taken +prisoner,' replied Wojtek. + +'Heaven preserve us!' + +'Now do you understand?' + +Having finished looking at the Zouaves, they walked on. At the last +carriage Bartek suddenly started back as if he had touched fire. + +'Oh, Wojtek, Lord help us!' + +There was the dark--nearly black--face of a Turco at the open window, +rolling his eyes so that the whites showed. He must have been wounded, +for his face was contorted with pain. + +'But what's the matter?' asked Wojtek. + +'That must be the Evil One, it's not a soldier. Lord have mercy on my +sins!' + +'Look at his teeth!' + +'May he go to perdition! I shan't look at him any longer.' + +Bartek was silent, then asked after a moment: + +'Wojtek?' + +'Yes?' + +'Mightn't it be a good thing to cross oneself before anyone like +that?' + +'The heathen don't understand anything about the holy truth.' + +The signal was given for taking their seats. In a few moments the +train was moving. When it grew dusk Bartek continually saw before him +the Turco's dark face with the terrible white of his eyes. From the +feeling which at the moment animated this Pognebin soldier, it would +not have been possible to foretell his future deeds. + + +CHAPTER IV + +The particular share he took at first in the pitched battle of +Gravelotte, merely convinced Bartek of this fact,--that in war there +is plenty to look at, but nothing to do. For at the commencement he +and his regiment were told to order arms and wait at the bottom of a +hill covered by a vineyard. The guns were booming in the distance, +squadrons of cavalry charged past near at hand with a clatter which +shook the earth; then the flags passed, then Cuirassiers with drawn +swords. The shells on the hill flew hissing across the blue sky in the +form of small white clouds, then smoke filled the air and hid the +horizon. The battle seemed like a storm which passes through a +district without lasting long anywhere. + +After the first hours, unusual activity was displayed round Bartek's +regiment. Other regiments began to be massed round his, and in the +spaces between them, the guns, drawn by plunging horses, rushed along, +and, hastily unlimbered, were pointed towards the hill. The whole +valley became full of troops. Commands were now thundered from all +sides, the Aides-de-Camps rushed about wildly, and the private +soldiers said to one another: + +'Ah! it will be our turn now! It's coming!' or enquired uneasily of +one another, + +'Isn't it yet time to start?' + +'Surely it must be!' + +The question of life and death was now beginning to hang in the +balance. Something in the smoke, which hid the horizon, burst close at +hand with a terrible explosion. The deep roar of the cannon and the +crack of the rifle firing was heard ever nearer; it was like an +indistinct sound coming from a distance,--then the mitrailleuse became +audible. Suddenly the guns, placed in position, boomed forth until the +earth and air trembled together. The shells whistled frightfully +through Bartek's company. Watching they saw something bright red, a +little cloud, as it might be, and in that cloud something whistled, +rushed, rattled, roared, and shrieked. The men shouted: 'A shell! A +shell,' and at the same moment this vulture of war sped forward like a +gale, came near, fell, and burst! A terrible roar met the ear, a crash +as if the world had collapsed, followed by a rushing sound, as before +a puff of wind! Confusion reigned in the lines standing in the +neighbourhood of the guns, then came the cry and command 'Stand +ready!' Bartek stood in the front rank, his rifle at his shoulder, his +head turned towards the hill, his mouth set,--so his teeth were not +chattering. He was forbidden to tremble, he was forbidden to shoot. He +had only to stand still and wait! But now another shell burst,--three, +four, ten. The wind lifted the smoke from the hill: the French had +already driven the Prussian battery from it, had placed theirs in +position, and now opened fire on to the valley. Every moment from +under cover of the vineyard they sent forth long white columns of +smoke. Protected by the guns, the enemy's infantry continued to +advance, in order to open fire. They were already half way down the +hill and could now be seen plainly, for the wind was driving the smoke +away. Would the vineyard prove an obstacle to them? No, the dark caps +of the infantry were advancing. Suddenly they disappeared under the +tall arches of the vines, and there was nothing to be seen but +tricolour flags waving here and there. The rifle fire began fiercely +but intermittently, continually starting in fresh and unexpected +places. Shells burst above it, and crossed one another in the air. Now +and then cries rang out from the hill, which were answered from below +by a German 'Hurrah!' The guns from the valley sent forth an +uninterrupted fire; the regiment stood unflinching. + +The line of fire began to embrace it more closely, however. The +bullets hummed in the distance like gnats and flies, or passed near +with a terrible whizz. More and more of them came:--hundreds, +thousands, whistling round their heads, their noses, their eyes, their +shoulders; it was astonishing there should be a man left standing. +Suddenly Bartek heard a groan close by: 'Jesu!' then 'Stand ready!' +then again 'Jesu!' 'Stand ready!' Soon the groans went on without +intermission, the words of command came faster and faster, the lines +drew in closer, the whizzing grew more frequent, more uninterrupted, +more terrible. The dead covered the ground. It was like the Judgment +Day. + +'Are you afraid?' Wojtek asked. + +'Why shouldn't I be afraid?' our hero answered, his teeth chattering. + +Nevertheless both Bartek and Wojtek still kept their feet, and it did +not even enter their heads to run away. They had been commanded to +stand still and receive the enemy's fire. Bartek had not spoken the +truth; he was not as much afraid as thousands of others would have +been in his place. Discipline held the mastery over his imagination, +and his imagination had never painted such a horrible situation as +this. Nevertheless Bartek felt that he would be killed, and he +confided this thought to Wojtek. + +'There won't be room in Heaven for the numbers they kill,' Wojtek +answered in an excited voice. + +These words comforted Bartek perceptibly. He began to hope that his +place in Heaven had already been taken. Re-assured with regard to +this, he stood more patiently, conscious only of the intense heat, and +with the perspiration running down his face. Meantime the firing +became so heavy that the ranks were thinning visibly. There was no one +to carry away the killed and wounded; the death rattle of the dying +mingled with the whizz of shells and the din of shooting. One could +see by the movement of the tricolour flags that the infantry hidden by +the vines was coming closer and closer. The volleys of mitrailleuse +decimated the ranks; the men were beginning to grow desperate. + +But underlying this despair were impatience and rage. Had they been +commanded to go forward, they would have gone like a whirlwind. It was +impossible to merely stand still in one spot. A soldier suddenly threw +down his helmet with his whole force, and exclaimed: + +'Curse it! One death is as good as another!' + +Bartek again experienced such a feeling of relief from these words +that he almost entirely ceased to be afraid. For if one death was as +good as another, what did anything matter? This rustic philosophy was +calculated to arouse courage more rapidly than any other. Bartek knew +that one death was as good as another, but it pleased him to hear it, +especially as the battle was now turning into a defeat. For here was a +regiment which had never fired a single shot, and was already half +annihilated. Crowds of soldiers from other regiments which had been +scattered, ran in amongst and round theirs in disorder; only these +peasants from Pognebin, Great and Little Krzywda, and Mizerow still +remained firm, upholding Prussian discipline. But even amongst them a +certain degree of hesitation now began to be felt. Another moment and +they would have burst the restraint of discipline. The ground under +their feet was already soft and slippery with blood, the stench of +which mingled with the smell of gunpowder. In several places the lines +could not join up closely, because the dead bodies made gaps in them. +At the feet of those men yet standing, the other half lay bleeding, +groaning, struggling, dying, or in the silence of death. There was no +air to breathe in. They began to grumble: + +'They have brought us out to be slaughtered!' + +'No one will come out of this!' + +'Silence, Polish dogs!' sounded the officer's voice. + +'I should just like you to be standing in my shoes!' + +'Where is that fellow?' + +Suddenly a voice began to repeat: + +'Beneath Thy Shadow....' + +Bartek instantly took it up: + +'We flee, O holy Son of God!' + +And soon on that field of carnage a chorus of Polish voices was +calling to the Defender of their nation: + +'Of Thy favour regard our prayers.' + +while from beneath their feet there came the accompaniment of groans: +'Mary! Mary!' She had evidently heard them, for at that moment the +Aide-de-Camps came galloping up, and the command rang forth: 'Arms to +the attack! Hurrah! Forward!' The crest of bayonets was suddenly +lowered, the column stretched out into a long line and sprang towards +the hill to seek with their bayonets the enemy they could not discover +with their eyes. The men were, however, still two hundred yards from +the foot of the hill, and they had to traverse that distance under a +murderous fire. Would they not perish like the rest? Would they not be +obliged to retreat? Perish they might, but retreat they could not, for +the Prussian commander knows what tune will bring Polish soldiers to +the attack. Amid the roar of cannon, amid the rifle fire and the +smoke, the confusion and groaning, loudest of all sounded the drums +and trumpets, playing the hymn at which every single drop of blood +leapt in their veins. 'Hurrah!' answered the Macki[6] 'as long as we +live!' Frenzy seized them. The fire met them full in the face. They +went like a whirlwind over the prostrate bodies of men and horses, +over the wrecks of cannon. They fell, but they went with a shout and a +song. They had already reached the vineyard and disappeared into its +enclosure. Only the song was heard, and at times a bayonet glittered. +On the hill the firing became increasingly fierce. In the valley the +trumpets kept on sounding. The French volleys continued faster and +faster,--still faster,--and suddenly-- + +Suddenly they were silent. + +Down in the valley that old wardog, Steinmetz, lighted his clay pipe, +and said in a tone of satisfaction: + +'You have only to play to them! The daredevils will do it!' + +And actually in a few moments one of the proudly waving tricolours was +suddenly raised aloft, then drooped, and disappeared. + +'They are not joking,' said Steinmetz. + +Again the trumpets played the hymn, and a second Polish regiment went +to the help of the first. In the enclosure a pitched battle with +bayonets was taking place. + +And now, oh Muse, sing of our hero, Bartek, that posterity may know +of his deeds! The fear, impatience, and despair of his heart had +mingled into the single feeling of rage, and when he heard that music +each vein stood out in him like cast iron. His hair stood on end, his +eyes shot fire. He forgot everything that had made up his world; he no +longer cared whether one death was as good as another. Grasping his +rifle firmly in his hands, he leapt forward with the others. Reaching +the hill he fell down for the tenth time, struck his nose, and, +bespattered with mud and the blood flowing from his nose, ran on madly +and breathlessly, catching at the air with open mouth. He stared +round, wishing to find some of the French in the enclosure as quickly +as possible, and caught sight of three standing together near the +flags. They were Turcos. Would Bartek retreat? No, indeed; he could +have seized the horns of Lucifer himself now! He ran towards them at +once, and they fell on him with a shout; two bayonets, like two deadly +stings, had actually touched his chest already, but Bartek lowered his +bayonet. A dreadful cry followed,--a groan, and two dark bodies lay +writhing convulsively on the ground. + +At that moment the third, who carried the flag, ran up to help his two +comrades. Like a Fury, Bartek leapt on him with his whole strength. +The firing flashed and roared in the distance, while Bartek's hoarse +roar rang out through the smoke: + +'Go to Hell!' + +And again the rifle in his hand described a fearful semi-circle, again +groans responded to his thrusts. The Turcos retreated in terror at the +sight of this furious giant, but either Bartek misunderstood, or they +shouted out something in Arabic, for it seemed to him that their thick +lips distinctly uttered the cry: 'Magda! Magda!' + +'Magda will give it you!' howled Bartek, and with one leap he was in +the enemy's midst. + +Happily at that moment some of his comrades ran up to his assistance. +A hand to hand fight now took place in the enclosure of the vineyard. +There was the crack of rifles at close quarters, and the hot breath of +the combatants sounded through their nostrils. Bartek raged like a +storm. Blinded by smoke, streaming with blood, more like a wild beast +than a man, and regardless of everything, he mowed down men at each +blow, broke rifles, cracked heads. His hands moved with the terrible +swiftness of a machine sowing destruction. He attacked the Ensign, and +seized him by the throat with an iron grip. The Ensign's eyes turned +upwards, his face swelled, his throat rattled, and his hands let the +pole fall. + +'Hurrah!' cried Bartek, and, lifting the flag, he waved it in the air. + +This was the flag raised aloft and drooping, which Steinmetz had seen +from below. + +But he could only see it for half a second, for in the next--Bartek +had trampled it to shreds. Meanwhile his comrades were already rushing +on ahead. + +Bartek remained alone for a moment. He tore off the flag, hid it in +his breast pocket, and, having seized the pole in both hands, rushed +after his comrades. + +A crowd of Turcos, shouting in a barbarous tongue, now fled towards +the gun placed on the summit of the hill, the Macki after them, +shouting, pursuing, striking with butt-end and bayonet. + +The Zouaves, who were stationed by the guns, received the first men +with rifle fire. + +'Hurrah!' shouted Bartek. + +The men ran up to the guns, and a fresh struggle took place round +these. At that moment the second Polish regiment came to the aid of +the first. The flag pole in Bartek's powerful hands was now changed +into a kind of infernal flail. Each stroke dealt by it opened a free +passage through the close lines of the French. The Zouaves and Turcos +began to be seized with panic, and they fled from the place where +Bartek was fighting. Within a few moments Bartek was sitting astride +the gun, as he might his Pognebin mare. + +But scarcely had the soldiers had time to see him on this, when he was +already on the second, after killing another Ensign who was standing +by it with the flag. + +'Hurrah, Bartek!' repeatedly exclaimed the soldiers. + +The victory was complete. All the ammunition was captured. The +infantry fled, and after being surrounded by Prussian reinforcements +on the other side of the hill, laid down their arms. + +Bartek captured yet a third flag during the pursuit. + +It was worth seeing him, when exhausted, covered with blood, and +blowing like a blacksmith's bellows, he now descended the hill +together with the rest, bearing the three flags on his shoulder. The +French? Why, what had not he alone done to them! By his side went +Wojtek, scratched and scarred, so he turned to him and said: + +'What did you say? Why, they are miserable wretches; there isn't a +scrap of strength in their bones! They have just scratched you and me +like kittens, and that's all. But how I have bled them you can see by +the ground!' + +'Who would have known that you could be so brave!' replied Wojtek, who +had watched Bartek's deeds, and began to look at him in quite a +different light. + +But who has not heard of these deeds? History, all the regiment and +the greater number of the officers. Everybody now looked with +astonishment at this country giant with the flaxen moustache and +goggle eyes. The Major himself said to him, 'Ah, you confounded Pole!' +and pulled his ear, making Bartek grin to his back teeth with +pleasure. When the regiment stood once more at the foot of the hill, +the Major pointed him out to the Colonel, and the Colonel to Steinmetz +himself. + +The latter noticed the flags, and ordered that they should be taken +charge of; then he began to look at Bartek. Our friend Bartek again +stood as straight as a fiddle string, presenting arms, and the old +General looked at him and shook his head with pleasure. Finally he +began to say something to the Colonel; the words 'non-commissioned +officer' were plainly audible. + +'Too stupid, Your Excellency!' answered the Major. + +'Let us try,' said His Excellency, and turning his horse, he +approached Bartek. + +Bartek himself scarcely knew what was happening to him: it was a thing +unknown in the Prussian Army for the General to talk to a Private! His +Excellency was the more easily able to do this, because he knew +Polish. Moreover this Private had captured three flags and two guns. + +'Where do you come from?' enquired the General. + +'From Pognebin,' answered Bartek. + +'Good. Your name?' + +'Bartek Slowik.' + +'Mensch,' explained the Major. + +'Mens!' Bartek tried to repeat. + +'Do you know why you are fighting the French?' + +'I know, Your Excellency.' + +'Tell me.' + +Bartek began to stammer, 'Because, because--' Then on a sudden +Wojtek's words fortunately came into his mind, and he burst out with +them quickly, so as not to get confused: 'Because they are Germans +too, only worse villains!' + +His Excellency's face began to twitch as if he felt inclined to burst +out laughing. After a moment, however, His Excellency turned to the +Major, and said: + +'You are right, Sir.' + +Our friend Bartek, satisfied with himself, remained standing as +straight as a fiddle string. + +'Who won the battle to-day?' the General asked again. + +'I, Your Excellency,' Bartek answered without hesitation. + +His Excellency's face again began to twitch. + +'Right, very right, it was you! And here you have your reward.' + +Here the old soldier unpinned the iron cross from his own breast, +stooped and pinned it on to Bartek. The General's good humour was +reflected in a perfectly natural way on the faces of the Colonel, the +Majors, the Captains, down to the non-commissioned officers. After the +General's departure the Colonel for his own part presented Bartek with +ten thalers, the Major with five, and so on. Everyone repeated to him +smilingly that he had won the battle, with the result that Bartek was +in the seventh heaven. + +It was a strange thing: the only person who was not really satisfied +with our hero was Wojtek. + +In the evening, when they were both sitting round the fire, and when +Bartek's distinguished face was bulging as much with pea sausage as +the sausage itself, Wojtek ejaculated in a tone of resignation: + +'Oh Bartek, what a blockhead you are, because--' + +'But why?' said Bartek, between his bites of sausage. + +'Why, man, didn't you tell the General that the French are Germans?' + +'You said so yourself.' + +'And what of that?--' + +Wojtek began to stammer a little--'Well, though they may be Germans, +you needn't have told him so, because it's always unpleasant--' + +'But I said it about the French, not about them....' + +'Ah, because when....' + +Wojtek stopped short, though evidently wishing to say something +further; he wished to explain to Bartek that it is not suitable when +among Germans to speak evil of them, but somehow his tongue became +entangled. + + +CHAPTER V + +A little while later the Royal Prussian Mail brought the following +letter to Pognebin: + + May Jesus Christ and His Holy Mother be praised. + + DEAREST MAGDA! What news of you? It is all right for you to + be able to rest quietly in bed at home, but I am fighting + horribly hard here. We have been surrounding the great fort + of Metz, and there was a battle, and I did for so many of the + French that all the Infantry and Artillery were astonished. + And the General himself was astonished, and said that I had + won the battle, and gave me a cross. And the officers and + non-commissioned officers respect me very much now, and + rarely box my ears. Afterwards we marched on further, and + there was a second battle, but I have forgotten what the town + was called; there also I seized and carried off four flags, + and knocked down one of the biggest Colonels in the + Cuirassiers, and took him prisoner. And as our regiment is + going to be sent home, the Sergeant has advised me to ask to + be transferred and to stay on here, for in war it is only + sleep you do not get, but you may eat as much as you can + stand, and in this country there is wine everywhere, for they + are a rich nation. We have also burnt a town and we did not + spare even women or children, nor did I. The church was burnt + on purpose, because they are Catholics, and very wicked + people. We are now going on to the Emperor himself, and that + will be the end of the war, but you take care of the cottage + and Franek, for if you do not take care of it, then I will + beat you till you have learnt what sort of a man I am. I + commend you to God. + + Bartlomiej Slowik. + +Bartek was evidently developing a taste for war, and beginning to +regard it as his proper trade. He felt greater confidence in himself, +and now went into battle as he might have gone to his work at +Pognebin. Medals and crosses covered his breast, and although he did +not become a non-commissioned officer, he was universally regarded as +the foremost Private in the regiment. He was always well disciplined, +as before, and possessed the blind courage of the man who simply takes +no account of danger. The courage actuating him was no longer of the +same kind as that which had filled him in his first moments of fury, +for it now sprang from military experience and faith in himself. Added +to this his giant strength could endure all kinds of fatigue, marches, +and overstrain. Men fell at his side, he alone went on unharmed, only +working all the harder and developing more and more into the stern +Prussian soldier. He now not only fought the French, but hated them. +Some of his other ideas also changed. He became a soldier-patriot, +blindly extolling his leaders. In another letter to Magda he wrote: + + Wojtek is divided in his opinion, and so there is a quarrel + between us, do you understand? He is a scoundrel, too, + because he says that the French are Germans, but they are + French, and we are Germans. + +Magda, in her reply to both letters, set about abusing him with the +first words that came into her head. + + Dearest Bartek (she wrote), married to me before the holy + Altar! May God punish you! You yourself are a scoundrel, you + heathen, going with those wretches to murder half a nation of + Catholics. Do you not understand, then, that those wretches + are Lutherans, and that you, a Catholic, are helping them? + You like war, you ruffian, because you are able now to do + nothing but fight, drink, and illtreat others, and to go + without fasting; and you burn churches. But may you burn in + Hell for that, because you are even proud of it, and have no + thought for old people or children. Remember what has been + written in golden letters in the Holy Scriptures about the + Polish nation, from the beginning of the world to the + Judgment Day,--when God most High will have no regard for + sluggards,--and restrain yourself, you Turk, that I may not + smash your head to pieces. I have sent you five thalers, + although I have need of them here, for I do not know which + way to turn, and the household savings are getting short. I + embrace you, dearest Bartek. + + MAGDA. + +The moral contained in these lines made little impression on Bartek. +'The wife does not remember her vows,' he thought to himself, 'and is +meddling.' And he continued to make war on the aged. He distinguished +himself in every battle so greatly, that finally he again came under +the honoured notice of Steinmetz. Ultimately when the shattered Polish +regiment was sent back into the depths of Germany, he took the +sergeant's advice of applying for leave to be transferred, and stayed +behind. The result of this was that he found himself outside Paris. + +His letters were now full of contempt for the French. 'They run away +like hares in every battle,' he wrote to Magda, and he wrote the +truth. But the siege did not prove to his taste. He had to dig or to +lie in the trenches round Paris for whole days, listening to the roar +of the guns, and often getting soaked through. Besides, he missed his +old regiment. In the one to which he had been transferred as a +volunteer, he was surrounded by Germans. He knew some German, having +already learnt a little at the factory, but only about five in ten +words; now he quickly began to grow familiar with it. The regiment +nicknamed him 'the Polish dog,' however, and it was only his +decorations and his terrifying fists which shielded him from +disagreeable jokes. Nevertheless, he earned the respect of his new +comrades, and began little by little to make friends with them. Since +he covered the whole regiment with glory, they ultimately came to look +upon him as one of themselves. Bartek would always have considered +himself insulted if anyone called him German, but in thinking of +himself in distinction to the French he called himself 'ein +Deutscher.' To himself he appeared entirely distinct, but at the same +time he did not wish to pass for worse than others. An incident +occurred, nevertheless, which might have given him plenty to reflect +upon, had reflection come more easily to this hero's mind. Some +Companies of his regiment had been sent out against some volunteer +sharpshooters, and laid an ambush for them, into which they fell. But +the detachment was composed of veteran soldiers, the remains of some +of the foreign regiments, and this time Bartek did not see the dark +caps running away after the first shots. They defended themselves +stubbornly when surrounded, and rushed forward to force their way +through the encircling Prussian soldiery. They fought so desperately +that half of them cut their way through, and knowing the fate that +awaited captured sharpshooters, few allowed themselves to be taken +alive. The Company in which Bartek was serving therefore only took two +prisoners. These were lodged overnight in a forester's house, and the +next day they were to be shot. A small guard of soldiers stood outside +the door, but Bartek was stationed in the room under the open window +with the prisoners, who were bound. + +One of the prisoners was a man no longer young, with a grey moustache, +and a face expressing indifference to everything; the other appeared +to be about twenty-two years of age. With his fair moustache yet +scarcely showing, his face was more like a woman's that a soldier's. + +'Well, this is the end of it,' the young man said after a while, 'a +bullet through your head--and it's all over!' + +Bartek shuddered until the rifle in his hand rattled; the youth talked +Polish. + +'It is all the same to me,' the second answered in a gruff voice, 'as +I live, all the same! I have lived so long, I have had enough.' + +Bartek's heart beat quicker and quicker under his uniform. + +'Listen, then,' the older man continued, 'there is no help for it. If +you are afraid, think about something else, or go to sleep. Enjoy what +you can. As God loves me, I don't care!' + +'My mother will grieve for me,' the youth replied low; and, evidently +wishing to suppress his emotion, or else to deceive himself, he began +to whistle. He suddenly interrupted this, and cried in a voice of deep +despair, 'I did not even say good-bye!' + +'Then did you run away from home?' + +'Yes. I thought the Germans would be beaten, so there would be better +things coming for Poland.' + +'And I thought the same. But now--' + +Waving his hand, the old man finished speaking in a low voice, and his +last words were overpowered by the roar of the wind. The night was +dark. Clouds of fine rain swept past from time to time; the wood close +by was black as a pall. The gale whistled round the corners of the +room, and howled in the chimney like a dog. The lamp, placed high +above the window to prevent the wind from extinguishing it, threw a +flood of bright light into the room. But Bartek, who was standing +close to it under the window, was plunged in darkness. + +And it was perhaps better the prisoners should not see his face, for +strange things were taking place in this peasant's mind. At first he +had been filled with astonishment, and had stared hard at the +prisoners, trying to understand what they were saying. So these men +had set out to beat the Germans to benefit Poland, and he had beaten +the French, in order that Poland might benefit! And to-morrow these +two men would be shot! How was that? What was a poor fellow to think +about it? But if only he could hint it to them, if only he could tell +them that he was their man, that he pitied them! He felt a sudden +catch in his throat. What could he do for them? Could he rescue them? +Then _he_ would be shot! Good God! what was happening to him? He was +so overcome by pity that he could not remain in the room. + +A strange intense longing suddenly came upon him till he seemed +somewhere far off at Pognebin. Pity, hitherto an unknown guest in his +soldier's heart, cried to him from the depth of his soul: 'Bartek, +save them, they are your brothers!' and his heart, torn as never +before, cried out for home, for Magda, for Pognebin. He had had +enough of the French, enough of this war, and of battles! The voice +sounded clearer and clearer: 'Bartek, save them!' Confound this war! +The woods showed dark through the open window, moaning like the +Pognebin pines, and even in that moan something called out, 'Bartek, +save them!' + +What could he do? Should he escape to the wood with them, or what? All +his Prussian discipline recoiled in aversion at the thought. In the +Name of the Father and the Son! He need but cross himself at it! +He,--a soldier, and desert? Never! + +All the while the wood was moaning more loudly, the wind whistling +more mournfully. + +The elder prisoner suddenly whispered, 'That wind--like the Spring at +home.' + +'Leave me in peace!' the young man said in a Pognebin voice. + +After a moment, however, he repeated several times: + +'At home, at home, at home! God! God!' + +Deep sighs mingled with the listening wind, and the prisoners lay +silent once more. + +Bartek began to tremble feverishly. There is nothing so bad for a man +as to be unable to tell what is amiss with him. It seemed to Bartek as +if he had stolen something, and were afraid of being taken in charge. +He had a clear conscience, nothing threatened him, but he was +certainly terribly afraid of something. Indeed, his legs were +trembling, his rifle had grown dreadfully heavy, and something--like +bitter sobs--was choking him. Were these for Magda, or for Pognebin? +For both, but also for that younger prisoner whom it was impossible to +help. + +At times Bartek fancied he must be asleep. All the while the storm +raged more fiercely round the house, and the cries and voices +multiplied strangely in the whistling of the wind. + +Suddenly every hair of Bartek's head stood on end under his helmet. +For it seemed as if somewhere from out of the dark, rain-clad depths +of the forest somebody were groaning, and repeating: 'At home, at +home, at home!' + +Bartek started back, and struck the floor with the butt end of his +rifle to wake himself. He regained consciousness somehow and looked +up. The prisoners lay in the corner, the lamp was burning brightly, +the wind was howling,--all was in order. + +The light fell full on to the face of the younger prisoner--a child's +or girl's face. As he lay there with closed eyes, and straw under his +head, he looked as if he were already dead. + +Never in his life had Bartek been so wrung with pity! Something +distinctly gripped his throat, and an audible cry was wrung from his +breast. + +At that moment the elder prisoner turned wearily on to his side, and +said, 'Good-night, Wladek.' Silence followed. An hour passed. + +The wind played like the Pognebin organ. The prisoners lay silent. +Suddenly the younger prisoner, raising himself a little by an effort, +called, 'Karol?' + +'What?' + +'Are you asleep?' + +'No.' + +'Listen! I am afraid. Say what you like, but I shall pray.' + +'Pray, then.' + +'Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come.' + +Sobs suddenly interrupted the young prisoner's words, yet the broken +voice was still heard: 'Thy--will--be--done!' + +'Oh Jesu!' something cried in Bartek, 'Oh Jesu!' + +Impossible! He could stand it no longer.--Another moment, and +exclaiming 'Lord, I am only a man!' he had leapt through the window +into the wood. Let come what may! Suddenly measured steps were heard +echoing from the direction of the hall: it was the patrol, the +Sergeant with it. They were changing the guard! + +Next day Bartek was drunk all day from early morning. The following +day likewise.... + +But fresh advances, fighting, and marches took place during the days +following, and I am glad to say that our hero regained his +equilibrium. A certain fondness for the bottle, in which it is always +possible to find pleasure and at times forgetfulness, remained with +him after that night, however. For the rest, in battle he was more +terrible than ever; victory followed in his wake. + + +CHAPTER VI + +Some months had passed, and the Spring was now well advanced. The +cherry trees at Pognebin were in blossom and the young corn was +sprouting abundantly in the fields. One day Magda, seated in front of +the cottage, was peeling some rotten potatoes for dinner, fitter for +cattle than for human beings. But it was Spring-time, and poverty had +visited Pognebin. That could be seen too by the saddened and worried +look on Magda's face. Possibly in order to distract herself, the +woman, closing her eyes, sang in a thin, strained voice: + + Alas, my Jasienko has gone to the war! he writes me letters; + Alas, and I his wife write to him,--for I cannot see him. + +The sparrows twittered in the cherry trees as if they were trying to +emulate her. She stopped her song and gazed absently at the dog +sleeping in the sun, at the road passing the cottage, and the path +leading from the road through the garden and field. Perhaps Magda +glanced at the path because it led across to the station and, as God +willed, she did not look in vain that day. A figure appeared in the +distance, and the woman shaded her eyes with her hand, but she could +not see clearly, being blinded by the glare. Lysek woke up, however, +raised his head, and giving a short bark, began to grow excited, +pricking up his ears and turning his head from side to side. At the +same moment the words of a song reached Magda indistinctly. Lysek +sprang up suddenly and ran at full speed towards the newcomer. Then +Magda turned a little pale. + +'Is it Bartek,--or not?' + +She jumped up so quickly that the bowl of potatoes rolled on to the +ground: there was no longer any doubt; Lysek was bounding up to his +shoulder. The woman rushed forward, shouting in the full strength of +her joy: 'Bartek! Bartek!' + +'Magda, here I am!' Bartek cried, throwing her a kiss, and hurrying +towards her. He opened the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all +but fell, recovered himself,--and they were clasped in one anothers' +arms. + +The woman began to speak quickly: + +'And I had thought that you would not come back. I thought "they will +kill him!"--How are you?--Let me see. How good to look at you! You are +terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor fellow!--Oh, my dearest!... He has come +back, come back!' + +For one moment she tore herself from his neck and looked at him, then +threw herself on to it again. + +'Come back! The Lord be praised! Bartek, my darling! How are you? Go +indoors! Franek is at school being teased by that horrid German! The +boy is well. He's as dull in the upper storey as you are. Oh, but it +was time for you to come back! I didn't know any more which way to +turn. I was miserable, I tell you, miserable! This whole poor house is +going into ruins. The roof is off the barn. How are you? Oh, Bartek! +Bartek! That I should actually see you, after all! What trouble I have +had with the hay!--The neighbours helped me, but they did it to help +themselves! How are you?--Well? Oh, but I am glad to have you,--glad! +The Lord watched over you. Go indoors. By God, it's like Bartek, and +not like Bartek! What's the matter with you? Oh dear! Oh dear!' + +At that instant Magda had become aware of a long scar running along +Bartek's face across his left temple and cheek and down to his beard. + +'It's nothing.--A Cuirassier did it for me, but I did the same for +him. I have been in hospital.' + +'Oh Jesu!' + +'Why, it's a mere flea-bite.' + +'But you are starved to death.' + +'Ruhig!' answered Bartek. + +He was in truth emaciated, begrimed and in rags:--a true conqueror! He +swayed too as he stood. + +'What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?' + +'I--am still weak.' + +That he was weak, was certain, but he was tipsy also. For one glass of +vodka would have been sufficient in his state of exhaustion, and +Bartek had drunk something like four at the station. The result was +that he had the bearing of the true conqueror. He had not been like +this formerly. + +'Ruhig!' he repeated. 'We have finished the Krieg. I am a gentleman +now, do you understand? Look here!' he pointed to his crosses and +medals. 'Do you know who I am? Eh? Links! Rechts! Heu! Stroh! Halt!' + +At the word, 'halt,' he gave such a shrill shout that the woman +recoiled several steps. + +'Are you mad?' + +'How are you, Magda? When I say to you "how are you" then how are you? +Do you know French, stupid? "Musiu, Musiu!" What is "Musiu?" I am a +"Musiu," do you understand?' + +'Man, what's up with you?' + +'What's that to you! Was? "Done diner," do you understand?' + +A storm began to gather on Magda's brow. + +'What rubbish are you jabbering? What's this,--you don't know Polish? +That's all through those wretches. I said how it would be! What have +they done to you?' + +'Give me something to eat!' + +'Be quick indoors.' + +Every command made an irresistible impression on Bartek; hearing this +'Be quick' he drew himself up, held his hand stiffly to his side, and, +having made a half-turn, marched in the direction indicated. He stood +still at the threshold, however, and began to look wonderingly at +Magda. + +'Well, what do you want, Magda? What do...?' + +'Quick! March!' + +He entered the cottage, but fell over the threshold. The vodka was now +beginning to go to his head. He started singing, and looked round the +cottage for Franek, even saying 'Morgen, Kerl,' although Franek was +not there. After that he laughed loudly, staggered, shouted 'Hurrah!' +and fell full length on the bed. In the evening he awoke sober and +rested, and welcomed Franek, then, having got some pence out of Magda, +he took his triumphant way to the inn. The glory of his deeds had +already preceded him to Pognebin, since more than one of the soldiers +from other divisions of the same regiment, having returned earlier, +had related how he had distinguished himself at Gravelotte and Sedan. +So now when the rumour spread that the conqueror was at the inn, all +his old comrades hastened there to welcome him. + +No one would have recognized our friend Bartek, as he now sat at the +table. He, formerly so meek, was to be seen striking his fist on the +table, puffing himself out and gobbling like a turkey-cock. + +'Do you remember, you fellows, that time I did for the French, what +Steinmetz said?' + +'How could we forget?' + +'People used to talk about the French, and be frightened of them, but +they are a poor lot--_was_? They run like hares into the lettuce, and +run away like hares too. They don't drink beer either, nothing but +strong wine.' + +'That's it!' + +'When we burnt a town they would wring their hands immediately and cry +"Pitie, pitie,"[7] as if they meant they would give us a drink if we +would only leave them alone. But we paid no attention to them.' + +'Then can one understand their gibberish?' enquired a young farmer's +lad. + +'You wouldn't understand, because you are stupid, but I understand. +"Done di pe!"[8] Do you understand?' + +'But what did you do?' + +'Do you know about Paris? We had one battle after another there, but +we won them all. They have no good commanders. People say so too. "The +ground enclosed by the hedge is good," they say, "but it has been +badly managed." Their officers are bad managers, and their generals +are bad managers, but on our side they are good.' + +Maciej Kierz, the wise old innkeeper of Pognebin, began to shake his +head. + +'Well, the Germans have been victorious in a terrible war; they have +been victorious--but I always thought they would be. But the Lord +alone knows what will come out of it for us.' + +Bartek stared at him. + +'What do you say?' + +'The Germans have never cared to consider us much, anyhow, but, now +they will be as stuck up as if there were no God above them. And they +will illtreat us still more than they do already.' + +'But that's not true!' Bartek said. + +Old Kierz was a person of such authority in Pognebin that all the +village always thought as he did, and it was sheer audacity to +contradict him. But Bartek was a conqueror now, and an authority +himself. All the same they gazed at him in astonishment, and even in +some indignation. + +'Who are you, to quarrel with Maciej? Who are you--?' + +'What's Maciej to me? It isn't to such as he that I have talked, you +see! Why, you fellows, I talked, didn't I, to Steinmetz--_was_? But +let Maciej fancy what he likes. We shall be better off now.' + +Maciej looked at the conqueror for a moment. + +'You Blockhead!' he said. + +Bartek struck his fist on the table, making all the glasses and +pint-pots start up. + +'Still, der Kerl da! Heu! Stroh!' + +'Silence, no row! Ask the Priest or the Count, Blockhead.' + +'Was the Priest in the war? Or was the Count there? But I was there. +It's not true, boys. They'll know now how to respect us. Who won the +battle? We won it, I won it. Now they'll give us anything we ask for. +If I had wanted to become a land-owner in France, I should have stayed +there. The Government knows very well who gave the French the best +beating. And our regiment was the best. They said so in the military +despatches. So now the Poles will get the upper hand;--do you see?' + +Kierz waved his hand, stood up, and went out. Bartek had carried off +the victory in the field of politics also. The young men remaining +with him, regarded him as a perfect marvel. He continued: + +'As if they wouldn't give me anything I want! If I don't get it, I +should like to know who would! Old Kierz is a scoundrel, do you see? +The Government commands you to fight, so you must fight. Who will +illtreat me? The Germans? Is it likely?' + +Here he again displayed his crosses and medals. + +'And for whom did I beat the French? Not for the Germans, surely? I am +a better man now than a German, for there's not one German as strong. +Bring us some beer! I have talked to Steinmetz, and I have talked to +Podbielski. Bring us some beer!' + +They slowly prepared for their carouse. + +Bartek began to sing: + + Drink, drink, drink, + As long as in my pocket + Still the pennies chink! + +Suddenly he took a handful of pence from his pocket. + +'Beer! I am a gentleman now.--Won't you? I tell you in France we were +not so flush of money;--there was little we didn't burn, and few +people we didn't put a shot into!--God doesn't know which--of the +French--.' + +A tippler's moods are subject to rapid changes. Bartek unexpectedly +raked together the money from the table, and began to exclaim sadly: + +'Lord, have mercy on the sins of my soul!' + +Then, propping both elbows on the table, and hiding his head in his +hands, he was silent. + +'What's the matter?' inquired one of the drinkers. + +'Why was I to blame for them?' Bartek murmured sadly. 'It was their +own look-out. I was sorry for them, for they were both in my hands. +Lord! have mercy! One was as the ruddy dawn! next day he was as white +as cheese. And even after that I still--Vodka!' + +A moment of gloomy silence followed. The men looked at one another in +astonishment. + +'What is he saying?' one asked. + +'He is settling something with his conscience.' + +'A man must drink in spite of that war.' + +He filled up his glass of vodka once or twice, then he spat, and his +good humour unexpectedly returned. + +'Have you ever stood talking to Steinmetz? But I have! Hurrah!--Drink! +Who pays? I do!' + +'You may pay, you drunkard,' sounded Magda's voice, 'but I will repay +you! Never fear!' + +Bartek looked at his wife with glassy eyes. + +'Have you talked to Steinmetz? Who are you?' + +Instead of replying to him, Magda turned to the interested listeners, +and began to exclaim: + +'Oh, you men, you wretched men, do you see the disgrace and misery I +am in? He came back, and I was glad to welcome him as a good man, but +he came back drunk. He has forgotten God, and he has forgotten +Polish. He went to sleep, he woke up sober, and now he's drinking +again, and paying for it with my money, which I had earned by my own +work. And where have you taken that money from? Isn't it what I have +earned by all my trouble and slavery? I tell you men, he's no longer a +Catholic, he's not a man any more, he's bewitched by the Germans, he +jabbers German, and is just waiting to do harm to people. He's +possessed....' + +Here the woman burst into tears; then, raising her voice an octave +higher:--'He was stupid, but he was good. But now, what have they done +to him? I looked out for him in the evening, I looked out for him in +the morning, and I have lived to see him. There is no peace and no +mercy anywhere. Great God! Merciful God!--If you had only left it +alone,--if you had only remained German altogether!' + +Her last words ended in such a wail, it was almost like a cadence. But +Bartek merely said: + +'Be quiet, or I shall do for you!' + +'Strike me, hit my head, hit me now, kill me, murder me!' the woman +screamed, and stretching her neck forward, she turned to the man. + +'And you fellows, watch!--' + +But the men were beginning to disperse. The inn was soon deserted, and +only Bartek and his wife, with her neck stretched forward, remained. + +'Why do you stretch out your neck like a goose?' murmured Bartek. 'Go +home.' + +'Hit me!' repeated Magda. + +'Well, I shan't hit,' replied Bartek, putting his hands into his +pockets. Here the innkeeper, wishing to put an end to the quarrel, +turned out one of the lights. The room became dark and silent. After a +while Magda's shrill voice sounded through the darkness: + +'Hit me!' + +'I shan't hit,' replied Bartek's triumphant voice. + +Two figures were to be seen going by moonlight from the inn to the +cottage. One of them, walking in front, was sobbing loudly; that was +Magda; after her, hanging his head and following humbly enough, went +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + + +CHAPTER VII + +Bartek went home so tipsy that for some days he was unfit for work. +This was most unfortunate for all his household affairs, which were in +need of a strong man to look after them. Magda did her best. She +worked from morning till night, and the neighbours helped her as well +as they could, but even so she could not make both ends meet, and the +household was being ruined little by little. Then there were a few +small debts to the German Colonist, Just, who, having at a favourable +moment bought some thirteen acres of waste land at Pognebin, now had +the best property in the whole village. He had ready money besides, +which he lent out at sufficiently high interest. He lent it chiefly to +the owner of the property, Count Jarzynski, who bore the nickname of +the 'Golden Prince,' but who was obliged to keep up his house in a +style of befitting splendour for that very reason. Just, however, also +lent to peasants. For six months Magda had owed him some twenty +thalers, part of which she had borrowed for her housekeeping, and +part to send to Bartek during the war. Yet that need not have +mattered. God had granted a good harvest, and it would have been +possible to repay the debt out of the incoming crop, provided that the +hands and the labour were forthcoming. Unluckily Bartek could not +work. Magda did not quite believe this, and went to the priest for +help, thinking he might rouse her husband; but this was really +impossible. When at all tired, Bartek grew short of breath and his +wounds pained him. So he sat in front of the cottage all day long, +smoking his clay pipe with the figure of Bismarck in white uniform and +a Cuirassier's helmet, and gazed at the world with the drowsy eyes of +a man still feeling the effects of bodily fatigue. He pondered a +little on the war, a little on his victories, on Magda,--a little on +everything, a little on nothing. + +One day, as he sat thus, he heard Franek crying in the distance on his +way home from school. He was howling till the echoes rang. + +Bartek pulled his pipe out of his mouth. + +'Why, Franek, what's the matter with you?' + +'What's the matter?' repeated Franek, sobbing. + +'Why are you crying?' + +'Why shouldn't I cry, when I have had my ears boxed?' + +'Who boxed your ears?' + +'Who? Why, Herr Boege!' + +Herr Boege filled the post of schoolmaster at Pognebin. + +'And has he a right to box your ears?' + +'I suppose so, as he did it.' + +Magda, who had been hoeing in the garden, came through the hedge, and, +with the hoe in her hand, went up to the child. + +'What are you saying?' she asked. + +'What am I saying--? If that Boege didn't call me a Polish pig, and +give me a box on the ears, and say that just as they have beaten the +French now, so they will trample us underfoot, for they are the +strongest. And I had done nothing to him, but he had asked me who is +the greatest person in the world, and I had said it was the Holy +Father, but he boxed my ears, and I began to cry, and he called me a +Polish pig, and said that just as they have beaten the French....' + +Franek was beginning it all over again,--'and he said, and I +said,'--but Magda covered his mouth with her hand, and she herself, +turning to Bartek, exclaimed:-- + +'Do you hear? Do you hear? Go to the French war, then let a German +beat your child like a dog!--Curse him! Go to the war, and let this +Swabian kill your child!--You have your reward!... May....' + +Here Magda, moved by her own eloquence, also began to cry to Franek's +accompaniment. Bartek stared open-mouthed with astonishment, and could +not bring out a single word, or comprehend in the least what had +happened. How was this? And what of his victories?--He sat on in +silence for some moments, then suddenly something leaped into his +eyes, and the blood rushed to his face. With ignorant people +astonishment, like terror, often turns to rage. Bartek sprang up +suddenly, and jerked out through his clenched teeth:-- + +'I will talk to him!' + +And he went out. It was not far to go; the school lay close to the +church. Herr Boege was just standing in front of the verandah, +surrounded by a herd of young pigs, to which he was throwing pieces of +bread. + +He was a tall man, about fifty years of age, still as vigorous as an +oak. He was not particularly stout, but his face was very fat, and he +had a pair of very protruding eyes which expressed courage and energy. + +Bartek went up to him very quickly. + +'German, why have you been beating my child? _Was?_' he asked. + +Herr Boege took a few steps backwards, measured him with a glance +without a shade of fear, and said phlegmatically:-- + +'Begone, Polish prize-fighter!' + +'Why have you been beating my child?' repeated Bartek. + +'I will beat you too, you low Polish scoundrel! I will show you who is +master here. Go to the devil, go to the law,--begone!' + +Bartek, having seized the schoolmaster by the shoulder, began to shake +him roughly, crying in a hoarse voice:-- + +'Do you know who I am? Do you know who did for the French? Do you know +who talked to Steinmetz? Why do you beat my child, you cursed Swabian +dog?' + +Herr Boege's protruding eyes glared no less than Bartek's, but Boege +was a strong man, and he resolved to free himself from his assailant +by a single blow. This blow descended with a loud smack on the face of +the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. + +At that the man forgot everything. Boege's head was shaken from side +to side with a swift motion recalling a pendulum, but with this +difference that the shaking was alarmingly rapid. The formidable +vanquisher of Turcos and Zouaves awoke in Bartek once more. Boege's +twelve year old son, Oscar, a lad as strong as his father, ran in vain +to his assistance. A short, but terrible struggle took place, in which +the son fell to the ground, and the father felt himself lifted up into +the air. Bartek, raising his hand, held him there, he himself +scarcely knew how. Unluckily the tub of dishwater, which Herr Boege +had been assiduously mixing for the pigs, stood near. Into this tub +Herr Boege now capsized, and a moment later his feet were to be seen +projecting from it, and kicking violently. His wife darted out of the +house:-- + +'Help, to the rescue!' + +The German colonists rushed from the houses near to their neighbour's +assistance. Some of them fell on Bartek and began to belabour him with +sticks and stones. In the general confusion which followed it was +difficult to distinguish Bartek from his adversaries: some thirteen +bodies were to be seen rolling round in a single mass, and struggling +convulsively. + +Suddenly, however, from out of this fighting mass Bartek burst forth +like fury, making towards the hedge with all his might. + +The Germans ran after him, but an alarming crack was heard in the +hedge at the same moment, and Bartek's iron hands brandished a stout +stick. + +He returned raging and furious, holding the stick in the air: they all +fled. + +Bartek went after them, but luckily did not overtake anyone. Thus his +rage cooled, and he began to retreat homewards. Ah! if only it had +been the French he had been facing! His retreat would then have made +immortal history. + +As it was, he was being attacked by about a dozen people who, when +they had reassembled, set on him afresh. Bartek retired slowly, like a +wild boar pursued by dogs. He turned round now and then and stood +still: then his pursuers stood still too. The stick had earned their +complete respect. + +They threw stones at him, nevertheless, one of which wounded Bartek in +the forehead. The blood poured into his eyes, and he felt himself +growing faint. He swayed once or twice, let go the stick, and fell +down. + +'Hurrah!' cried the Germans. + +But by the time they reached him, Bartek had got up again: then they +held back. This wounded wolf was still dangerous. Besides, he was now +not far from the first cottage, and some labourers could be seen in +the distance hurrying to the battlefield at full speed. The Germans +retired to their houses. + +'What has happened?' enquired the newcomers. + +'I have been trying my hand a bit on the Germans,' Bartek answered. +And he fainted. + + +CHAPTER VIII + +It proved a serious affair. The German newspapers published flaming +articles on the persecutions to which the peaceful German population +was subjected at the hands of the barbarian and ignorant masses, who +were roused by socialist agitation and religious fanaticism. Boege +became a hero. He, the quiet, gentle schoolmaster, spreading the light +of learning on the far borders of the Empire; he, the true missionary +of culture amid barbarians, had fallen a first victim to the riot. It +was fortunate that there were a hundred million Germans to stand up +for him, who would never allow.... And so on. + +Bartek did not know what a storm was brewing over his head. On the +contrary, he was in good spirits; he was certain that he would win at +the trial. For Boege had beaten his child, and had dealt him the first +blow, and it had afterwards been he who had been attacked from behind! +Surely he had a right to defend himself. They had also thrown a stone +at his head,--actually thrown it at him, who had been mentioned in the +daily despatches, who had won the battle of Gravelotte, had talked to +Steinmetz himself, and received so many medals. It is true it never +entered his head that the Germans did not know all this when they +wronged him so greatly, any more than it occurred to him that Boege +could substantiate his threat to Pognebin that the Germans would now +trample it underfoot in the same way in which they, the Pognebinites, +had so thoroughly beaten the French whenever they had had an +opportunity. But as for himself, he was certain that public opinion +and the Government would be in his favour. They would certainly know +who he was, and what he had done during the war. If he was not a +different man to what he thought him, Steinmetz would espouse his +cause. Since Bartek was the poorer through the war, and his house in +debt, they were, anyhow, not doing him justice. + +All the same, the police from Pognebin rode up to Bartek's house. They +had expected serious resistance, for as many as five appeared with +loaded revolvers. They were mistaken; Bartek had not thought of +offering any resistance. They told him to get into the carriage,--and +he got in. Magda alone was desperate, persistently repeating:-- + +'Oh dear, what did you fight those French for? You will catch it now, +poor fellow, that you will!' + +'Be quiet, stupid!' Bartek answered, and smiled quite cheerfully to +the passers-by as he drove along. + +'I'll show them who it is they have offended!' he cried from the +carriage. + +And, covered with his medals, he drove along to the trial like a +conqueror. + +As a matter of fact, the trial went in his favour. The judge decided +to be lenient under the circumstances: Bartek was only condemned to +three months' imprisonment. + +In addition to this he had to pay a fine of 150 marks to the Boege +family and 'other injured colonists.' + +'Nevertheless the prisoner,' wrote the _Posener Zeitung_ in the +Criminal Report, 'showed not the slightest sign of contrition when the +sentence was passed on him, but poured forth such a stream of +invective, and began to enumerate his so-called services to the State +in such an impudent manner, that it is surprising these insults to the +Court and the German nation,' etc., etc. + +Meanwhile Bartek in prison quietly recalled his deeds at Gravelotte, +Sedan, and Paris. + +We should, however, be doing an injustice in asserting that Herr +Boege's action called forth no public censure. Very much the reverse. +On a certain rainy morning a Polish Member of Parliament pointed out +with great eloquence that the attitude of the Government towards the +Poles had altered in Posen; that, considering the courage and +sacrifice displayed by the Polish regiments during the war, it would +be fitting to have more regard for justice in the Polish provinces; +finally, that Herr Boege at Pognebin had abused his position as +schoolmaster by beating a Polish child, calling it a Polish pig, and +holding out hopes that after this war the inhabitants would trample +the native population under foot. The rain fell as the Member was +speaking, and as such weather makes people sleepy, the Conservatives +yawned, the National-Liberals yawned, the Centre yawned,--for they +were still being faced by the 'Kultur-Kampf.' + +Following immediately on this 'Polish question' the Chamber proceeded +to the order of the day. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in prison, or rather, he lay in the prison +infirmary, for the blow from the stone had re-opened the wound which +he had received in the war. + +When not feverish, he thought and thought, like the turkeycock that +died of thinking. But Bartek did not die, he merely did not arrive at +any conclusion. + +Now and then, however, during moments, which Science names 'lucida +intervalla,' it occurred to him that he had perhaps exerted himself +unnecessarily in 'doing for' the French. + +Difficult times followed for Magda. The fine had to be paid, and +there was nothing with which to pay it. The priest at Pognebin offered +to help, but it turned out that there were not quite forty marks in +his money box. The parish of Pognebin was poor; besides, the good old +man never knew how his money went. Count Jarzynski was not at home. It +was said that he had gone love-making to some rich lady in Prussia. + +Magda did not know where to turn. + +An extension of the loan was not to be thought of. What else, then? +Should she sell the horse or the cows? Meanwhile Winter passed into +Spring, the hardest time of all. It would soon be harvest, when she +would need money for extra labour, and even now it was all exhausted. +The woman wrung her hands in despair. She sent a petition to the +Magistrate, recalling Bartek's services; she never even received an +answer. The time for repayment of the loan was drawing near, and the +sequestration with it. + +She prayed and prayed, remembering bitterly the time when they were +well off, and when Bartek used to earn money at the factory in winter. +She tried to borrow money from her neighbours; they had none. The war +had made itself felt all round. She did not dare to go to Just, +because she was in his debt already, and had not even paid the +interest. However, Just unexpectedly came to see her himself. + +One afternoon she was sitting in the cottage doorway doing nothing, +for despair had drained her strength. She was gazing before her at two +golden butterflies chasing one another in the air, and thinking 'how +happy those creatures are, they live for themselves and needn't +pay'--and so on. After a while she sighed heavily, and a low cry broke +from her pale lips: 'Oh God! God!' Suddenly at the gate appeared +Just's long nose, and his long pipe beneath it. The woman turned pale. +Just addressed her:-- + +'Morgen!' + +'How are you, Herr Just?' + +'What about my money?' + +'Oh, my dear Herr Just, have pity! I am very poor, and what am I to +do? They have taken my man away,--I have to pay the fine for him,--and +I don't know where to turn. It would be better to die than to be +worried like this from day to day. Do wait a while longer, dear Herr +Just!' + +She burst out crying, and seizing Herr Just's fat, red hand, she +kissed it humbly. 'The Count will be back soon, then I will borrow +from him, and give it back to you.' + +'Well, and how will you repay the fine?' + +'How can I tell?--I might sell the cow.' + +'Then I will lend you some more.' + +'May God Almighty repay you, my dear Sir! Although you are a Lutheran, +you are a good man. I speak the truth! If only other Germans were +like you, Sir, one might bless them.' + +'But I don't lend money without interest.' + +'I know, I know.' + +'Then write me one receipt for it all.' + +'You are a kind gentleman, may God repay you too in the same way.' + +'We will draw up the bill when I go into the town.' + +He went into the town and drew up the bill, but Magda had gone to the +priest for advice beforehand. Yet what could he advise? The priest +said he was very sorry for her; the time given for repayment was +short, the interest was high, Count Jarzynski was not at home; had he +been, he might have helped. Magda, however, could not wait until the +team was sold, and she was obliged to accept Just's terms. She +contracted a debt of three hundred marks, that is, twice the amount of +the fine, for it was certainly necessary to have a few pence in the +house to carry on the housekeeping. On account of the importance of +the document, Bartek was obliged to sign it, and for this reason Magda +went to see him in prison. The conqueror was very depressed, dejected, +and ill. He had wished to forward a petition, setting forth his +grievances, but petitions were not accepted;--opinion in +Administrative circles had turned against him since the Articles in +the _Posener Zeitung_. For were not these very Authorities bound to +afford protection to the peaceful German population, who, during the +recent war, had given so many proofs of devotion and sacrifice to the +Fatherland? They were therefore obliged in fairness to reject Bartek's +petition. But it is not surprising that this should have depressed him +at last. + +'We are done for all round,' he said to his wife. + +'All round,' she repeated. + +Bartek began to ruminate deeply on the circumstances. + +'It's a cruel injustice to me,' he said. + +'That man Boege persecutes one,' Magda replied. 'I went to implore +him, and he called me names too. Ah! the Germans have the upper hand +now at Pognebin. They aren't afraid of anyone.' + +'Of course, for they are the strongest,' Bartek said sadly. + +'As I am a plain woman, I tell you God is the strongest.' + +'In Him is our refuge,' added Bartek. + +They were both silent a moment, then he asked again:-- + +'Well, and what of Just?' + +'If the Lord Almighty gives us a crop, then perhaps we shall be able +to repay him. Possibly too the Count will help us, although he +himself has debts with the German. They said even before the war that +he would have to sell Pognebin. Let us hope that he will bring home a +rich wife.' + +'But will he be back soon?' + +'Who knows? They say at the house that he will soon be coming with his +wife. And directly he is back the Germans will be upon him. It's +always those Germans! They are as plentiful as worms! Wherever one +looks, whichever way one turns, whether in the village or the +town--Germans for our sins! But where are we to get help from?' + +'Perhaps you can decide on something, for you are a clever woman.' + +'What can I advise? Should I have borrowed money from Just if I could +have helped it? I did it for a good reason, but now the cottage in +which we are settled, and the land also are already his. Just is +better than other Germans, but he too has an eye to his own profit, +not other people's. He won't be lenient to us any more than he has +been lenient to others. I am not so stupid as not to know why he +sticks his money in here! But what is one to do, what is one to do?' +she cried, wringing her hands. 'Give some advice yourself, if you are +clever. You can beat the French, but what will you do without a roof +over your head, or a crust to eat?' + +The victor of Gravelotte bent his head. 'Oh Jesu! Jesu!' + +Magda had a kind heart; Bartek's grief touched her, so she said +quickly:-- + +'Never mind, dear boy, never mind. Don't worry as long as you are not +yet well. The rye is so fine, it's bending to the ground; the wheat +the same. The ground doesn't belong to the Germans; it's as good as +ever it was. The fields were in a bad state before your quarrel, but +now they are growing so well, you'll see!' + +Magda began to smile through her tears. + +'The ground doesn't belong to the Germans,' she repeated once more. + +'Magda!' Bartek said, looking at her with wide-open eyes, 'Magda!' + +'What?' + +'But,--because you are ... if....' + +Bartek felt deep gratitude towards her, but he could not express it. + + +CHAPTER IX + +In truth Magda was worth more than ten other women put together. Her +manner towards Bartek was rather curt, but she was really attached to +him. In moments of excitement, as, for example, in the prison, she +told him to his face that he was stupid; nevertheless, before other +people she would generally exclaim:--'My Bartek pretends to be stupid, +but that's his slyness.' She used frequently to say this. As a matter +of fact, Bartek was about as cunning as his horse, and without Magda +he would have been unable to manage either his holding or anything +else. Now, when everything rested on her honest shoulders, she left no +stone unturned, running hither and thither to beg for help. A week +after her last visit to the prison infirmary she ran in again to see +Bartek, breathless, beaming, and happy. + +'My word, Bartek, how are you?' she exclaimed gleefully. 'Do you know +the Count has arrived! He was married in Prussia; the young lady is a +beauty! But he has done well for himself all round in getting her; +fancy,--just fancy!' + +The owner of Pognebin had really been married and come home with his +wife, and had actually done very well by himself all round in finding +her. + +'Well, and what of that?' enquired Bartek. + +'Be quiet, Blockhead,' Magda replied. 'Oh! how out of breath I am! Oh +Jesu! I went to pay my respects to the lady. I looked at her: she came +out to meet me like a queen, as young and charming as a flower, and as +beautiful as the dawn!--Oh dear, how out of breath I am!--' + +Magda took her handkerchief, and began to wipe the perspiration from +her face. The next instant she started talking again in a gasping +voice:-- + +'She had a blue dress like that blue-bottle. I fell at her feet, and +she gave me her hand;--I kissed it,--and her hands are as sweet and +tiny as a child's. She is just like a saint in a picture, and she is +good, and feels for poor people. I began to beg her for help.--May God +give her health!--And she said, "I will do," she said, "whatever lies +in my power." And she has such a pretty little voice that when she +speaks one does feel pleased. So then I began to tell her that there +are unhappy people in Pognebin, and she said, "Not only in Pognebin," +and then I burst into tears, and she too. And then the Count came in, +and he saw that she was crying, so he would have liked to take her and +give her a little kiss. Gentlefolk aren't like us! Then she said to +him, "Do what you can for this woman." And he said, "Anything in the +world, whatever you wish."--May the Mother of God bless her, that +lovely creature, may She bless her with children and with health!--The +Count said at once: "You must be heavily in debt, if you have fallen +into the hands of the Germans, but," he said, "I will help you, and +also against Just."' + +Bartek began to scratch his neck. + +'But the Germans have got hold of him too.' + +'What of that? His wife is rich. They could buy all the Germans in +Pognebin now, so it was easy for him to talk like that. "The +election," he said, "is coming on before long, and people had better +take care not to vote for Germans; but I will make short work of Just +and Boege." And the lady put her arm round his neck,--and the Count +asked after you, and said, "if he is ill, I will speak to the doctor +about giving him a certificate to show that he is unfit to be +imprisoned now. If they don't let him off altogether," he said, "he +will be imprisoned in the winter, but he is needed now for working the +crops." Do you hear? The Count was in the town yesterday, and invited +the doctor to come on a visit to Pognebin to-day. He's not a German. +He'll write the certificate. In the winter you'll sit in prison like +a king, you'll be warm, and they'll give you meat to eat; and now you +are going home to work, and Just will be repaid, and possibly the +Count won't want any interest, and if we can't give it all back in the +Autumn, I'll beg it from the lady. May the Mother of God bless her.... +Do you hear?' + +'She is a good lady. There are not many such!' Bartek said at once. + +'You must fall at her feet, I tell you,--but no, for then that lovely +head would bend to you! If only God grants us a crop. And do you see +where the help has come from? Was it from the Germans? Did they give a +single penny for your stupid head? Well, they gave you as much as it +was worth! Fall at the lady's feet, I say!' + +'I can't do otherwise,' Bartek replied resolutely. + +Fortune seemed to smile on the conqueror once more. He was informed +some days later that for reasons of health he would be released from +prison until the winter. He was ordered to appear before the +Magistrate. The man who, bayonet in hand, had seized flags and guns, +now began to fear a uniform more than death. A deep, unconscious +feeling was growing in his mind that he was being persecuted, that +they could do as they liked with him, and that there was some mighty, +yet malevolent and evil power above him, which, if he resisted, would +crush him. So there he stood before the Magistrate, as formerly before +Steinmetz, upright, his body drawn in, his chest thrown forward, not +daring to breathe. There were some officers present also: they +represented war and the military prison to Bartek. The officers looked +at him through their gold eye-glasses with the pride and disdain +befitting Prussian officers towards a private soldier and Polish +peasant. He stood holding his breath, and the Magistrate said +something in a commanding tone. He did not ask or persuade, he +commanded and threatened. A Member had died in Berlin, and the writs +for a fresh election had been issued. + +'You Polish dog, just you dare to vote for Count Jarzynski, just you +dare!' + +At this the officers knitted their brows into threatening leonine +wrinkles. One, lighting his cigar, repeated after the Magistrate 'Just +you dare!' and Bartek the Conqueror's heart died within him. When he +heard the order given, 'Go!' he made a half turn to the left, went out +and took breath. They told him to vote for Herr Schulberg of Great +Krzywda; he paid no attention to the command, but took a deep breath. +For he was going to Pognebin, he could be at home during harvest time, +the Count had promised to pay Just. He walked out of the town; the +ripening cornfields surrounded him on every side, the heavy blades +hurtling one another in the wind, and murmuring with a sound dear to +the peasant's ear. Bartek was still weak, but the sun warmed him. 'Ah! +how beautiful the world is!' this worn-out soldier thought. + +It was not much further to Pognebin. + + +CHAPTER X + +'The Election! The Election!' + +Countess Marya Jarzynski's head was full of it, and she thought, +talked and dreamt of nothing else. + +'You are a great politician,' an aristocratic neighbour said to her, +kissing her small hands in a snake-like way. But the 'great +politician' blushed like a cherry, and answered with a beautiful +smile:-- + +'Oh, we only do what we can!' + +'Count Jozef will be elected,' the nobleman said with conviction, and +the 'great politician' answered:-- + +'I should wish it very much, though not alone for Jozef's sake, but' +(here the 'great politician' dropped her imprudent hands again), 'for +the common cause...' + +'By God! Bismarck is in the right!' cried the nobleman, kissing the +tiny hands once more. After which they proceeded to discuss the +canvassing. The nobleman himself undertook Krzywda Dolna and Mizerow, +(Great Krzywda was lost, for Herr Schulberg owned all the property +there), and Countess Marya was to occupy herself specially with +Pognebin. She was all aglow with the _role_ she was to fill, and she +certainly lost no time. She was daily to be seen at the cottages on +the main road, holding her skirt with one hand, her parasol with the +other, while from under her skirt peeped her tiny feet, tripping +enthusiastically in the great political cause. She went into the +cottages, she said to the people working on the road, 'The Lord help +you!' She visited the sick, made herself agreeable to the people, and +helped where she could. She would have done the same without politics, +for she had a kind heart, but she did it all the more on this account. +Why should not she also contribute her share to the political cause? +But she did not dare confess to her husband that she had an +irresistible desire to attend the village meeting. In imagination she +had even planned the speech she would make at the meeting. And what a +speech it would be! What a speech! True, she would certainly never +dare to make it, but if she dared--why then! Consequently when the +news reached Pognebin that the Authorities had prohibited the meeting, +the 'great politician' burst into a fit of anger, tore one +handkerchief up completely, and had red eyes all day. In vain her +husband begged her not to 'demean' herself to such a degree; next day +the canvassing was carried on with still greater fervour. Nothing +stopped Countess Marya now. She visited thirteen cottages in one day, +and talked so loudly against the Germans that her husband was obliged +to check her. But there was no danger. The people welcomed her gladly, +they kissed her hands and smiled at her, for she was so pretty and her +cheeks were so rosy that wherever she went she brought brightness with +her. Thus she came to Bartek's cottage also. Although Lysek did not +bark at her, Magda in her excitement hit him on the head with a stick. + +'Oh lady, my beautiful lady, my dear lady!' cried Magda, seizing her +hands. + +In accordance with his resolve, Bartek threw himself at her feet, +while little Franek first kissed her hand, then stuck his thumb into +his mouth and lost himself in whole-hearted admiration. + +'I hope'--the young lady said after the first greetings were over,--'I +hope, my friend Bartek, that you will vote for my husband, and not for +Herr Schulberg.' + +'Oh my dear lady!' Magda exclaimed, 'who would vote for +Schulberg?--Give him the ten plagues! The lady must excuse me, but +when one gets talking about the Germans, one can't help what one +says.' + +'My husband has just told me that he has repaid Just.' + +'May God bless him!' Here Magda turned to Bartek. 'Why do you stand +there like a post? I must beg the lady's pardon, but he's wonderfully +dumb.' + +'You will vote for my husband, won't you?' the lady asked. 'You are +Poles, and we are Poles, so we will hold to one another.' + +'I should throttle him if he didn't vote for him,' Magda said. 'Why do +you stand there like a post? He's wonderfully dumb. Bestir yourself a +bit!' + +Bartek again kissed the lady's hand, but he remained silent, and +looked as black as night. The Magistrate was in his mind. + +The day of the Election drew near, and arrived. Count Jarzynski was +certain of victory. All the neighbourhood assembled at Pognebin. After +voting the gentlemen returned there from the town to wait for the +priest, who was to bring the news. Afterwards there was to be a +dinner, but in the evening the noble couple were going to Posen, and +subsequently to Berlin also. Several villages in the Electoral +Division had already polled the day beforehand. The result would be +made known on this day. The company was in a cheerful frame of mind. +The young lady was slightly nervous, yet full of hope and smiles, and +made such a charming hostess that everyone agreed Count Jozef had +found a real treasure in Prussia. This treasure was quite unable at +present to keep quiet in one place, and ran from guest to guest, +asking each for the hundredth time to assure her that 'Jozio would be +elected.' She was not actually ambitious, and it was not out of vanity +that she wished to be the wife of a Member, but she was dreaming in +her young mind that she and her husband together had a real mission to +accomplish. So her heart beat as quickly as at the moment of her +wedding, and her pretty little face was lighted up with joy. Skilfully +manoeuvering amidst her guests, she approached her husband, drew him +by the hand, and whispered in his ear, like a child, nicknaming +someone, 'The Hon. Member!' He smiled, and both were happy at the most +trifling word. They both felt a great wish to give one another a warm +embrace, but owing to the presence of their guests, this could not be. +Everyone, however, was looking out of the window every moment, for the +question was a really important one. The former Member, who had died, +was a Pole, and this was the first time in this Division that the +Germans had put up a candidate of their own. Their military success +had evidently given them courage, but just for that reason it the more +concerned those assembled at the manor house at Pognebin to secure the +election of their candidate. Before dinner there was no lack of +patriotic speeches, which especially moved the young hostess who was +unaccustomed to them. Now and then she suffered an access of fear. +Supposing there should be a mistake in counting the votes? But there +would surely not only be Germans serving on the Committee! The +principal landowners would simply flock to her husband, so that it +would be possible to dispense with counting the votes. She had heard +this a hundred times, but she still wished to hear it! Ah! and would +it not make all the difference whether the local population had an +enemy in Parliament, or someone to champion their cause? It would soon +be decided,--in a short moment, in fact,--for a cloud of dust was +rising from the road. + +'The priest is coming! The priest is coming!' reiterated those +present. The lady grew pale. Excitement was visible on every face. +They were certain of victory, all the same this final moment made +their hearts beat more rapidly. But it was not the priest, it was the +steward returning from the town on horseback. Perhaps he might know +something? He tied his horse to the gate post, and hurried to the +house. The guests and the hostess rushed into the hall. + +'Is there any news?--Is there any? Has our friend been +elected?--What?--Come here!--Do you know for certain?--Has the result +been declared?' + +The questions rose and fell like rockets, but the man threw his cap +into the air. + +'The Count is elected!' + +The lady sat down on a bench abruptly, and pressed her hand to her +fast beating heart. + +'Hurrah! Hurrah!' the neighbours shouted, 'Hurrah!' + +The servants rushed out from the kitchen. + +'Hurrah! Down with the Germans! Long live the Member! And my lady the +Member's wife!' + +'But the priest?' someone asked. + +'He will be here directly;' the steward answered, 'they are still +counting....' + +'Let us have dinner!' the Hon. Member cried. + +'Hurrah!' several people repeated. + +They all walked back again from the hall to the drawing room. +Congratulations to the host and hostess were now offered more calmly; +the lady herself, however, did not know how to restrain her joy, and +disregarding the presence of others, threw her arm round her husband's +neck. But they thought none the worse of her for this; on the +contrary, they were all much touched. + +'Well, we still survive!' the neighbour from Mizerow said. + +At this moment there was a clatter along the corridor, and the priest +entered the drawing room, followed by old Maciej, of Pognebin. + +'Welcome! Welcome!' they all cried. 'Well,--how great?' + +The priest was silent a moment; then as it were into the very face of +this universal joy he suddenly hurled the two harsh, brief words: + +'Schulberg--elected!' + +A moment of astonishment followed, a volley of hurried and anxious +questions, to which the priest again replied: + +'Schulberg is elected!' + +'How?--What has happened?--By what means?--The steward said it was not +so.--What has happened?' + +Meanwhile Count Jarzynski was leading poor Countess Marya out of the +room, who was biting her hankerchief, not to burst into tears or to +faint. + +'Oh what a misfortune, what a misfortune!' the assembled guests +repeated, striking their foreheads. + +A dull sound like people shouting for joy rose at that moment from the +direction of the village. The Germans of Pognebin were thus gleefully +celebrating their victory. + +Count and Countess Jarzynski returned to the drawing room. He could be +heard saying to his wife at the door, 'Il faut faire bonne mine,' and +she had stopped crying already. Her eyes were dry and very red. + +'Will you tell us how it was?' the host asked quietly. + +'How could it be otherwise, Sir,' old Maciej said, 'seeing that even +the Pognebin peasants voted for Schulberg?' + +'Who did so?' + +'What? Those here?' + +'Why, yes; I myself and everyone saw Bartek Slowik vote for +Schulberg.' + +'Bartek Slowik?' the lady said. + +'Why, yes. The others are at him now for it. The man is rolling on the +ground, howling, and his wife is scolding him. But I myself saw how he +voted.' + +'From such an enlightened village!' the neighbour from Mizerow said. + +'You see, Sir,' Maciej said, 'others who were in the war also voted as +he did. They say that they were ordered--' + +'That's cheating, pure cheating!--The election is +void--Compulsion!--Swindling!' cried different voices. + +The dinner at the Pognebin manor house was not cheerful that day. + +The host and hostess left in the evening, but not as yet for Berlin, +only for Dresden. + +Meanwhile Bartek sat in his cottage, miserable, sworn at, ill-treated +and hated, a stranger even to his own wife, for even she had not +spoken a word to him all day. + +In the autumn God granted a crop, and Herr Just, who had just come +into possession of Bartek's farm, felt pleased, for he had not done at +all a bad stroke of business. + +Some months later three people walked out of Pognebin to the town, a +peasant, his wife, and child. The peasant was very bent, more like an +old man than an able-bodied one. They were going to the town because +they could not find work at Pognebin. It was raining. The woman was +sobbing bitterly at losing her cottage, and her native place. The +peasant was silent. The road was empty, there was not a carriage, not +a human being to be seen; the cross alone, wet from the rain, +stretched its arms above them.--The rain fell more and more heavily, +dimming the light. + +Bartek, Magda and Franek were going to the town because the victor of +Gravelotte and Sedan had to serve his term of imprisonment during the +winter, on account of the affair with Boege. + +Count and Countess Jarzynski continued to enjoy themselves in Dresden. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Nightingale. + +[2] 'Czlowiek' and 'Slowik.' + +[3] 'Czlowiek' (man). + +[4] A popular song. Skrzynecki was a well-known leader in the Polish +Revolution of 1863. + +[5] 'They are going.' 'Jadom' and 'jada' are pronounced similarly. + +[6] 'Macki' = 'Tommies.' + +[7] Polish 'picie' = a drink. + +[8] Polish e = French _in_. + + + + +TWILIGHT + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI + + +The sun was gliding into a lustrous copper haze, drawn in wide +streaks, like transparent dust, across the distant scene. It sank +behind some thick red firs left standing at the edge of a clearing and +behind the dark trunks which lay rotting on the hillside. Its beams +still lighted the corners of a cottage, gilding it and colouring it +scarlet; they penetrated the folds of grey clouds, and glittered on +the water. + +A recent storm had laid the marshy plains and newly cultivated +woodlands partly under water. Here and on the furrows of the +stubble-fields and the fresh autumn ploughing the puddles turned red +and their irridescent surface became like molten glass, while +entrancing violet shadows, dazzling to the sight, fell on the grey, +beaten-down clods; the sand hills turned yellow; the weeds growing on +the banks, the bushes at the edge of the field paths, all borrowed +some unwonted momentary colour. + +In a deep hollow surrounded by sparsely wooded hills to the east, west +and south ran a little brook, which overflowed into bays, swamps, +shallows and creeks. Tangles of reeds grew at the water's edge, lank +bulrushes, sweet-flags, and clumps of willows. The still, red water +was now shining in formless pale-green patches from under the large +leaves of the water-lilies and coarse water-weeds. + +A flight of teals was hovering above with outstretched necks, and +broke in upon the silence with the swish of their wings. Otherwise +everything was still. Even the glassy blue dragon-flies, which had +been hovering ceaselessly on their gossamer wings round the stems of +the bulrushes, had disappeared. The untiring water-flies alone yet +strayed over the illuminated surface of the swamps on their stilt-like +legs.... And there were two human beings at work. + +The marshes belonged to the manor house. Formerly the young owner, +accompanied by his spaniel, had floundered through them, shooting +ducks and snipe, which were to be found there before he cut down all +the woods. He left quite half of the land uncultivated, and having +very quickly run through his property, he found no means of supporting +himself until he went to Warsaw, where he was now selling soda-water +at a stall. + +When a new and prudent owner appeared, he inspected the fields, stick +in hand, and frequently stood still on the marshes, rubbing his nose. + +He fumbled with his hands in the swamp, dug holes, measured, +sniffed,--till he invented a strange thing. He ordered the bailiff to +hire labourers daily to dig peat, to heap barrow-loads of the mud on +to the fields, and to go on digging a hole until it was large enough +for a pond. He was to make a dyke, and to choose a lower position for +a second pond, till there were some thirteen in all; then to cut +trenches; to let the water down, build water-gates, and set fish in +the ponds. + +Walek Gibala, a day labourer without any land of his own, who was +working for wages in the neighbouring village, was hired to cart away +the peat. Gibala had been groom to the former landlord, but had not +stayed on with the new one. In the first place, the new landlord and +the new steward had lowered the wages and allowances, and, in the +second place, they made an enquiry into everything that was stolen. In +the time of the former landlord each groom used half a bushel of oats +for a pair of horses, and took the rest in the evening to the 'Berlin' +Inn, in exchange for tobacco or a drop of brandy. However, this +business had come to an end at once when the new steward appeared, and +since he justly laid the blame of it on Walek, he had boxed his ears, +and dismissed him from his service. + +So from that time Walek and his wife had lived on their daily +earnings in the village, because he could not find a situation; he was +not likely even to apply for one, so thoroughly had the steward taken +his character away. At harvest time they both earned something here +and there from the peasants, but in winter and early spring they +suffered terribly,--indescribably, from hunger. Large and bony, with +iron muscles, the man was as thin as a board, with an ashen look, +round-shouldered and weakened by privation. The woman--like a +woman--supported herself by her neighbours; she sold mushrooms, +raspberries and strawberries to the manor house, or to the Jews, and +at least thus earned a loaf of wheat-bread. But, without food, she was +no match for the man at threshing. When the bailiff gave the order for +digging in the meadows, the eyes of both sparkled. The steward himself +promised thirty kopeks for digging two cubic yards. + +Walek kept his wife occupied with the digging every day and all day. +She loaded the wheelbarrow, and he wheeled the mud on to the field +along planks thrown across the swamp. They worked feverishly. They had +two large, deep wheelbarrows, and before Walek had brought back the +empty one, the second was already full; then he threw the strap round +his shoulder and pushed the barrow up the hill. The iron wheel creaked +horribly. The liquid, dark, rank slime, thick with marsh-weeds, +overflowed and trickled down on to the man's bare knees, as the +wheelbarrows were tilted from plank to plank; it penetrated to his +neck and shoulders, marking his shirt with a dark, evil-smelling +streak. His arms ached at the elbows, his feet were painful and stiff +from being continually plunged into the mud, but--with a hard day's +work, they dug out four cubic yards:--and he knew that he had sixty +kopeks in his pocket. + +They were hopeful, for they had earned thirty roubles by the end of +the autumn. They paid their rent, bought a cask of pickled cabbage, +five bushels of potatoes, a 'sukmana,'[9] boots, some aprons and +homespun for the woman, and linen for shirts. Thus they could last +till the spring, when they would be able to earn by threshing and +weaving at other people's houses. + +All of a sudden the steward considered it excessive to give thirty +kopeks for two cubic yards. It struck him that no one would be tempted +to patter about in a swamp from daybreak to nightfall unless on the +verge of starvation, and these people had undertaken it without +hesitation. 'Twenty kopeks is enough,' he said, 'if not,--well, go +without.' + +There was nothing to be earned at this time of year, and the manor +house had enough of its own people to attend to the threshing and +machinery;--it was no use being fastidious in the matter. After this +announcement Walek went to the inn, and made a beast of himself. Next +day he beat his wife, and dragged her out to work for him. + +From that time forward--beginning when it grew light--they dug out the +four cubic yards, never stopping work from daybreak until night. + +And now, indeed, night was drawing on from afar. The distant +light-blue woods were growing dark, and melting into grey gloom. The +radiance on the waters was extinguished. Immense shadows from the red +firs standing towards the north fell on the summits of the hills, and +along the clearings. The tree trunks alone remained crimson here and +there, and then the stones. Small, fugitive rays were reflected from +these points of light, and, falling into the deep wastes created among +objects by the half-darkness, were refracted, quivered for an instant, +and went out in turn. The trees and bushes lost their convexity and +brilliance, their natural colours mingled with the grey distance, and +they appeared only as flat and completely black forms with weird +contours. + +A thick mist was already gathering in the low-lying country, chilling +the man through as he worked. The darkness was coming on in unseen +waves, creeping along the slopes of the hills, gathering to itself the +dreary colours of the stubble-fields, the water-courses, the clefts +in the hills, and the rocks. + +As the waves of mist met, others--white, transparent, and scarcely +visible--which rose from the marshes, crept along in streaks, winding +in balls round the undergrowth, trembling and curling over the surface +of the water. The cold, damp wind drove the mist along the bottom of +the valley, till it was stretched out flat like a face on the canvas +of a picture. + +'The mist is coming on,' Walkowa murmured. It was that moment of +twilight, when every form seems to be visibly reducing itself to dust +and nothingness, when a grey emptiness spreads over the surface of the +earth, looks into the eyes, and oppresses the heart with unconscious +sorrow. Terror seized Walkowa. Her hair stood on end, and a shudder +passed through her body. The mists rose like a living thing, +stealthily crawling over towards her; they came up from behind, +retreated, lay in wait, and again crept forward in more impetuous +pursuit. Her hands were clammy with the damp, it soaked through her +skin to the bone, it irritated her throat, and tickled her chest. Then +she remembered her child, whom she had not seen since noon. He was +lying asleep,--locked up in a room quite alone,--in a cradle of lime +wood, suspended from the beams of the ceiling by birch-twigs. Surely +he was crying now,--choking,--sobbing? The mother heard that cry, as +wailing and pitiful as that of a solitary bird in a desert place. It +rang in her ears, it tormented a particular spot in her brain, it tore +at her heart. She had not thought about him all day, for her hard work +had scattered all her thoughts, in fact, it had drained and +annihilated her power of thinking; but now the uncanny sensations +caused by the twilight compelled her to concentrate herself and fasten +her mind upon this small morsel of humanity. + +'Walek' she said timidly, when the man brought up the barrow, 'shall I +be off to the cottage and finish scraping the potatoes?' + +Gibala did not answer, as though he had not heard. He seized the +barrow and set forth. When he returned, the woman implored again: +'Walek, shall I be off?' + +'Eh?' he grumbled carelessly. + +She knew what his anger meant; she knew that he could catch a man +under the ribs, gather up his skin in handfuls, and, having shaken him +once or twice, throw him down like a stone among the rushes. She knew +he was capable of tearing the handkerchief from her head, twisting her +hair in a knot round his fist and dragging her in terror along the +road; or, in a fit of absent-mindedness, of pulling his spade out of +the swamp quickly, and cutting her across the head without +considering--whether it had hit, or not hit her. + +But impatient anxiety, kindled to the point of pain, rose above the +fear of punishment. At moments the woman thought of running away; it +only meant creeping into the little ravine, leaping across the +brooklet, and then making straight through the fields and plantations. +As she stooped and filled her barrow, she was already escaping in +thought, leaping like a marten, scarcely feeling the pain of running +barefoot across the stubble, overgrown with thick blackthorn and +blackberries. The sharp clods would sting not only her feet but her +heart. She would come running to the cottage, and open the bolt with +the wooden key; the warmth and close air of the room would meet her +face; she would clasp the cradle ... Walek would kill her when he +returned to the cottage,--beat her to death:--but what then? That +would be for later.... + +As soon, however, as Walek emerged from the mist, she was seized +afresh by a dread of his fists. Again she humbly begged him, although +she knew that her tormentor would not set her free: + +'Perhaps the baby is dead in there.' + +He answered nothing, threw down the strap of the barrow from his +shoulder, approached his wife, and, by a movement of the head, +pointed to the stakes up to which they must dig that day. Then he +seized the spade, and began to throw mud into his barrow, time after +time. He worked without thinking, quickly,--as fast as he could +breathe. When he had filled the barrow he pushed it forward, running +at top speed, and said as he left: + +'Push yours too, you lazy brute....' + +She took this mild concession to the object of her love, this brutal +goodness, this hardness and severity as if it had been a caress. For +it would be possible to finish the work far sooner if they both +wheeled the mud. Rapidly and impetuously she now imitated his +movements, like a monkey, and shovelled up the mud four times more +quickly, no longer drawing on her muscular peasant's strength, but on +her nervous power. Her chest rattled, dazzling colours passed under +her eyelids, she felt faint, and large burning tears fell from her +eyes into that cold, evil-smelling filth,--tears of unheeded pain. +Every time she struck the spade into the ground she looked to see if +it was still far to the stakes; her barrow ready, she seized it, and +ran at full tilt after the man. + +The mists rose high; they drew past the rushes and stood over the tops +of the alders in an unmoving wall. The trees loomed through them as +patches of indefinite colour, astonishingly large, but imperfect +forms, which ran across the deep gorge like monstrous, terrible +apparitions. + +Their heads fell forward; their hands executed a uniform movement; +their bodies were bowed to the ground.... + +The wheels of the barrows clattered and whined. Waves of mist like +milk when poured into water, swayed amid the darkening hills. + +The evening star shone low in the sky, and tremblingly threw its +feeble light across the darkness. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Peasant's dress. + + + + +TEMPTATION + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI + + +Countess Anna Krzywosad--Naslawska's youngest son had decided to take +Holy Orders. From boyhood he had shown an unusual fondness for prayer, +had been silent and obedient, and worn an earnest, pious expression. +He had been educated in Rome under the eye of a distant cousin--a +Cardinal--and completed his course at the seminary there with +distinction, when barely twenty. Having not yet attained the proper +age to hold any spiritual office, he went back to his own country for +the first time for many years, and stayed at his mother's house. + +He occupied a corner room in the mansion, as cold and damp as any +monastic cell; he slept on the ground, fasted unceasingly, read Latin +books, very probably scourged himself at nights, and wore a hair shirt +under his shabby cassock. He was unspeakably good and gentle, forgave +injuries, and was over-modest. + +When he sat down, it was on the very edge of the chair, as if anxious +that when he rose quickly his cassock should hinder him and make him +move like a priest; he walked on tiptoe as if a mystic heel protected +him from the dust of the earth; he shunned society, he murmured a +prayer at the sight of a village girl. + +Every day at dawn he left the house, and went into the fields. He felt +that there he could be in closest communication with his Creator, +there ecstatic visions came to him most clearly. He followed the +beaten track through numberless rye-fields to the upland, where a +half-ruined little chapel lay hidden in the shade of the pine forest. + +One morning he went there as usual. The landscape was still buried in +the night-mist, but a violet streak of daybreak had begun to spread on +the horizon. The bearded rye brushed against his knees and scattered +large dewdrops, yet the pathway was not damp, being sheltered by the +full drooping ears. The corn, feebly illumined by the early morning +light, rose in great waves along the hill, where the undulating line +of the fields showed against the wood. The scent of earth and ripening +corn hung on the breeze, bringing a sense of health, strength, and +youth. From the dark gloom of the huge trees, whose tops were +beginning to break up the expanse of dawning blue, came the keen, damp +breath of the forest. The seminarist walked along slowly and lazily, +passing his hand over the surface of the rye. Sky larks and crested +larks rose at his feet, and dropped again like stones into the +thickly-growing corn. + +The dawn was now tinging the horizon with a rosy light; it burst forth +like a wide flash of lightning, illuminating the rifts and curves in +the dark clouds which lay idly over the wood. Unexpectedly hundreds of +red firs, crowning the summit of the hill, emerged tall and grand from +the night, their boughs standing out prominently against the +transparent background of blue, as if stretching out their arms to the +approaching sun. + +Suddenly a thrill passed through the earth. The next moment a puff of +wind, the forerunner of daybreak, stirred the boughs of the firs, and +announced alike to plant, to grass, and corn--the coming of the sun. + +It seemed as if the earth were quivering, as if her heart began to +beat. Then the wind spread its wings, and hovered over the scented +trunks, over the osiers and corn in the distance. A long, soothing +moment of death-like silence followed, and then that mysterious moment +of early dawn, when each living plant glows in its every part as if on +fire. + +The student walked with his face turned eastwards. Words of prayer +rose from his heart to his lips as the sap rises to the bark of the +pines when Spring comes. He went up to the little chapel, opened the +grey wooden door, studded with nails, and fell on his face with +outstretched hands before the picture of Christ, clumsily drawn by a +rustic hand. + +He felt as if his soul had fled from earth to the very Throne of God. +The scales had fallen from his eyes in a moment: he was gazing on the +face of the Eternal. + +All at once a rough, coarse peasant's song was heard: + + 'It was then that I liked you best, Hanka, + When you bleached yourself in the fields, in the fields, + like a gosling.' + +This was answered by a woman's voice, approaching from a distance: + + 'I did not bleach myself, I bleached a linen shirt, + But you, Kaska, thought that I was painted.' + +The young man rose from the ground, and stood at the door of the +chapel. He saw a sturdy farmer's lad in shirt sleeves, bare-foot, in a +straw hat, and loaded like a horse, with juniper wood. This strapping +fellow was taking up a kilo of roots--digging out bushes with the +clods, and moistening his hands in the branches. A girl was going +along the path, carrying a load of weeds on her back. The corners of +her petticoat were turned up and tucked into her belt, her broad +shoulders were bent together under the heavy burden, only her head, +tied round with a red handkerchief, was raised towards the hill where +the lad was working. When she reached the turn of the path, he stopped +her, pulled down the hem of her skirt from her waist, and laid her +bundle on the ground. She pushed him away with her hands, laughing. + +The student shaded his eyes with his hand, but dropped it again the +next minute, as the sound of the two singing a fresh song echoed +through the glade. It was strange music. The wood, like a tuned +string, seemed to quiver in harmony with the sound of those two +voices: + + 'In the garden is a cherry tree, + In the orchard there are two; + I have loved you, Hanus, since you were small, + Nobody else but you.' + +They went down into the hollow through the corn, which reached up to +their heads, bent towards one another. Those two heads stood out in +sharp relief against the dark rye, while the giant, brazen shield of +the sun was rising over the ridge. They walked thus for a long time, +never completely hidden by the corn. + +Tears flowed from under the young man's closed eyes, and he clenched +his hands convulsively. Words unknown to him, words known as longing +and the desire for love, forced themselves unnoticed to his lips. + +In a vision he saw moist eyes and a girl's long braided hair rising +and sinking in some sea cavern. An unknown force, inexpressibly sweet, +a force which could be neither expelled nor conquered, rose within +him, carrying him far away into space. His soul threw off its fetters, +and rushed forth in its wild freedom, as a colt starts for a mad +gallop.... + + + + +SRUL--FROM LUBARTOW + +ADAM SZYMANSKI + + +I + +It happened in the year,...; but no matter what year. Suffice it to +say that it happened, and that it happened at Yakutsk in the beginning +of November, about a month after my arrival at that citadel of frosts. +The thermometer was down to 35 degrees Reamur. I was therefore +thinking anxiously of the coming fate of my nose and ears, which, +fresh from the West, had been making silent but perceptible protests +against their compulsory acclimatization, and to-day were to be +submitted to yet further trials. These latest trials were due to the +fact that one of the men in our colony, Peter Kurp, nicknamed +Baldyga,[10] had died in the local hospital two days before, and early +that morning we were going to do him a last service, by laying his +wasted body in the half-frozen ground. + +I was only waiting for an acquaintance, who was to tell me the hour of +the funeral, and I had not long to wait. Having wrapped up my nose and +ears with the utmost care, I set out with the others to the hospital. + +The hospital was outside the town. In the courtyard, and at some +distance from the other buildings, stood a small shed--the mortuary. + +In this mortuary lay Baldyga's body. + +When the doors were opened, we entered, and the scene within made a +painful impression on the few of us present. We were about ten people, +possibly a few more, and we all involuntarily looked at one another: +we were standing opposite a cold and bare reality, not veiled by any +vestige of pretence.... + +In the shed,--which possessed neither table nor stool, nothing but +walls white with hoarfrost and a floor covered with snow,--lay a large +bearded corpse, equally white, and tied up in some kind of sheet or +shirt. This was Baldyga. + +The body, which was completely frozen, had been brought near the light +to the door, where the coffin was standing ready. + +Never shall I forget Baldyga's face as I saw it then with the light +full upon it, and washed by the snow. There was something strange and +indescribably sad in the rough, strongly marked countenance; the large +pupils and projecting eyeballs seemed to look far away into the +distance towards the stern frosty sky. + +'That man,--he was a good sort,' one of those present said to me, +noticing the impression which the sight of Baldyga made on me. 'He was +always steady and industrious; people who were hard up used to go to +him and he would help them. But there never was anyone so obstinate as +Kurp: he believed to the last that he would go back to the Narev.[11] +Yet before the end came it was plain that he knew he would never get +there.' + +Meanwhile the petrified body had been laid in the coffin, and placed +upon the small one-horse Yakut sledge. + +Then the tailor's wife--a person versed in religious +practices,--undertook the office of priest for such time as we could +give her, and began to sing 'Ave Maria,' while we joined in with +voices broken with emotion. After this we proceeded to the cemetery. + +We walked quickly; the frost was invigorating, and made us hasten our +steps. At last we reached the cemetery. We each threw a handful of +frozen earth on to the coffin.... A few deft strokes of the spade ... +and in a moment only a small freshly turned mound of earth remained to +bear witness to Baldyga's yet recent existence in this world. This +witness would not last long, however,--scarcely a few months. The +spring would come, and, thawed by the sun, the mound on the grave +would sink and become even with the rest of the ground, and grass and +weeds would grow upon it. After a year or two the witnesses of the +funeral would die, or be dispersed throughout the wide world, and if +even the mother who bore him were to search for him, she would no +longer find a trace on the earth. But, indeed, none would seek for the +dead man, nor even a dog ask for him. + +Baldyga had known this; we knew it too: and we dispersed to our houses +in silence. + +The day following the funeral the frost was yet more severe. There was +not a single building to be seen on the opposite side of the fairly +narrow street in which I lived, for a thick mist of snow crystals +overspread the earth, like a cloud. The sun could not penetrate this +mist, and although there was not a living soul in the street, the air +was so highly condensed through the extreme cold that I continually +heard the metallic sound of creaking snow, the sharp reports of the +walls and ground cracking in the frost, or the moaning song of a +Yakut. Evidently those Yakut frosts were beginning, which reduce the +most terrible Arctic cold to insignificance. They fill human beings +with unspeakable dread. Every living thing feels its utter +helplessness, and although it cowers down and shrinks into itself for +protection, knows quite well--like the cur worried by fierce +mastiffs,--that all is in vain, for sooner or later the inexorable foe +is bound to be victorious. + +And Baldyga was continually in my mind, as if he were alive. I had sat +for hours at my half-finished task. Somehow I could not stick to work; +the pen fell from my hand, and my unruly thoughts ranged far away +beyond the snowy frontier and frosty ground. In vain I appealed to my +reason, in vain I repeated wholesome advice to myself for the tenth +time. Hitherto I had offered some resistance to the sickness which had +consumed me for several weeks; to-day I felt completely overcome and +helpless. Homesickness was devouring and making pitiless havoc of me. + +I had been unable to resist dreaming so many times already; was it +likely I should withstand the temptation to-day? The temptation was +stronger, and I was weaker than usual. + +So begone frost and snow, begone the existence of Yakutsk! I threw +down my pen, and surrounding myself with clouds of tobacco smoke, +plunged into the waters of feverish imagination. + +And how it carried me away!... My thoughts fled rapidly to the far +West, across morasses and steppes, mountains and rivers, across +countless lands and cities, and spread a scene of true enchantment +before me. There on the Vistula lay my native plains, free from misery +and human passions, beautiful and harmonious. My lips cannot utter, +nor my pen describe their charm! + +I saw the golden fields, the emerald meadows; the dense forests +murmured their old legends to me. + +I heard the rustle of the waving corn; the chirping of the feathered +poets; the sound of the giant oaks as they haughtily bid defiance to +the gale. + +And the air seemed permeated by the scent of those aromatic forests, +and those blossoming fields, adorned in virgin freshness by the blue +cornflowers and that sweetest beauty of Spring,--the innocent violet. + +... Every single nerve felt the caress of my native air.... I was +touched by the life-giving power of the sun's rays; and although the +frost outside creaked more fiercely, and showed its teeth at me on the +window panes more menacingly, yet the blood circulated in my veins +more rapidly, my head burnt, and I sat as if spellbound, deaf, no +longer seeing or hearing anything round me.... + + +II + +I did not notice that the door opened and someone entered my room, +neither did I see the circles of vapour, which form in such numbers +every time a door is opened that they obscure the face of the person +entering. I did not feel the cold: it penetrates human dwellings here +with a sort of shameless, premeditated violence. In fact, I had seen +or heard nothing until suddenly I felt a man close to me, and even +before catching sight of him, found myself involuntarily putting him +the usual Yakut question: + +'Toch nado?' ('What do you want?') + +'If you please, Sir, I am a hawker,' was the answer. + +I looked up. Although he was dressed in ox and stag's hide, I had no +doubt that a typical Polish Jew from a small town stood before me. +Anyone who had seen him at Lossitz or Sarnak would have recognized him +as easily in Yakut as in Patagonian costume. I knew him at once. And +since, as I have said, I was as yet only semi-conscious, and had asked +the question almost mechanically, the Jew now standing before me did +not interrupt my train of thought too harshly; the contrast was, +therefore, not too disagreeable. Quite the reverse. I gazed into the +well-known features with a certain degree of pleasure; the Jew's +appearance at that moment seemed quite natural, since it carried me in +thought and feeling to my native land, and the few Polish words +sounded dear to my ear. Half dreaming still, I looked at him kindly. + +The Jew stood still for a moment, then turned, and retreating to the +door, began to pull off his multifarious coverings. + +Then I came to myself, and realized that I had not yet answered him, +and that my sagacious countryman, quite misinterpreting my silence, +was anxious to dispose of his wares to me. I hastened to undeceive +him. + +'In heaven's name, man, what are you doing?' I cried quickly, 'I do +not want to buy anything; I am not wanting anything. Do not unload +yourself in vain, and go away with God's blessing!' + +The Jew stopped undoing his things, and after a moment's +consideration, came towards me with his long fur coat[12] half +trailing behind him, and began to mumble quickly in broken sentences: +'It's all right; I know you won't buy anything, Sir. I saw you, for I +have been here a long time, a very long time.... I didn't know before +that you had come.... You come from Warsaw, don't you, Sir? They only +told me yesterday evening that you had been here four months already; +what a pity it was such a time before I heard of it! I should have +come at once. I have been searching for you to-day for an hour, Sir. I +went quite to the end of the town,--and there's such a frost +here,--confound it!... If you will allow me Sir,--I won't interrupt +for long?... Only just a few words....' + +'What do you want of me?' + +'I should only like to have a little chat with you, Sir.' + +This answer did not greatly surprise me. I had already come across not +a few people, Jews among them, who had called solely for the purpose +of 'having a little chat' with a man recently arrived from their +country. Those who came were interested in the most varied topics +imaginable; there were the inquisitive gossipers pure and simple, +there were the people who only enquired after their relations, and +there were the politicians, including those whose heads had been +turned. Among those who came, however, politics always played a +specially important part. So it did not surprise me, I repeat, to hear +the wish expressed by a fresh stranger, and although I should have +been glad to rid my cottage as quickly as possible of the unpleasant +odour of the ox-hide coat,--badly tanned, as usual--I begged him in a +friendly way to take it off and sit down. + +The Jew was evidently pleased. He took a seat beside me at once and I +could now observe him closely. + +All the usual features of the Jewish race were united in the face +beside me: the large, slightly crooked nose and penetrating hawk's +eyes, the pointed beard of the colour of a well-ripened pumpkin, the +low forehead, surrounded by thick hair; all these my guest possessed. +And yet, strange to say, the haggard face expressed a certain frank +sincerity, and did not make a disagreeable impression on me. + +'Tell me where you come from, what your name is, what you are doing +here, and why you wish to see me?' + +'Please, Sir, I am Srul, from Lubartow. Perhaps you know it,--just a +stone's throw from Lublin?--Well, at home everyone thinks it a long +way from there, and formerly I thought so too. But now,' he added with +emphasis, 'we know that Lubartow is quite close to Lublin, a mere +stone's throw.' + +'And have you been here long?' + +'Very long; three good years.' + +'That is not so very long; there are people who have lived here for +over 20 years, and I met an old man from Vilna in the road, who had +been here close upon 50 years. Those have really been a long time.' + +But the Jew snubbed me. 'As to them, I can't say. I only know that I +have been here a long time.' + +'You must certainly live quite alone, if the time seems so long to +you?' + +'With my wife and child--my daughter. I had four children when I set +out, but, may the Lord preserve us, it was such a long way, we were +travelling a whole year. Do you know what such a journey means, +Sir?... Three children died in one week--died of travelling, as it +were. Three children!... An easy thing to say!... There was nowhere +even to bury them, for there was no cemetery of ours there.... I am a +Husyt,' he added more quietly. 'You know what that means Sir?... I +keep the Law strictly ... and yet God punishes me like this....' He +grew silent with emotion. + +'My friend,' I tried to say to console him a little,--'no doubt under +such circumstances it is difficult to remember that it makes no +difference; but all earth is hallowed.' + +But the Jew jumped as if he had been scalded. + +'Hallowed! how hallowed! In what way is it hallowed! What are you +saying, Sir? It's unclean! It's damned!... Hallowed earth?... You must +not talk like that, Sir, you ought to be ashamed! Is earth hallowed, +which never thaws? This earth is cursed! God doesn't wish human beings +to live here; it wouldn't have been like this, if He had wished it. +Cursed! Bad! Damned! Damned!' + +And he began to spit about him, and stamp his feet, threatening the +innocent Yakut earth with tightened lips and his shrivelled hands, and +muttering Jewish maledictions. At last, exhausted by the effort, he +fell rather than sat down at the table beside me. + +All exiles, without regard to religion or race, dislike Siberia: +evidently a fanatic does not learn to hate it half-heartedly. I paused +until he had calmed himself. Educated in a severe school, the Jew +quickly regained his self-possession and mastered his emotion, and +when I gazed questioningly into his eyes the next moment, he +immediately answered me: + +'You must pardon me; I do not speak of this to anyone, for to whom +should I speak here?' + +'Then are there very few Jews here?' + +'Those here? Do you call them Jews, Sir? They're such low fellows, not +one of them keeps the Law strictly.' + +Fearing another outburst, I would not, however, allow him to finish, +and decided to change the conversation by asking him straight out what +he wanted to talk to me about now. + +'I should like to know the news from there, Sir. I have been here so +many years, and I have never yet heard what is going on there.' + +'You are asking a good deal, for I can't exactly tell you everything. +I don't know what interests you,--politics perhaps?' + +The Jew was silent. + +I concluded that my present guest, like many of the others, was +interested in politics; but as I myself did not understand the very +elements of the subject, I began to give the stereotyped account I had +already composed with a view to frequent repetition of the situation +of European politics, our own,[13] and so forth. But the Jew fidgeted +impatiently. + +'Then this does not interest you?' I asked. + +'I have never thought about it,' he answered candidly. + +'Ah, now I know why you have come! I am sure you wish to know how the +Jews are doing, and how trade is going?' + +'They are better off than I am.' + +'Exactly. I am sure, under the circumstances, you will wish to know if +living is dear with us, what the market prices are, how much for +butter, meat, etc.' + +'What does it concern me if it is ever so cheap there, if I can get +nothing here?' + +'Quite right again; but what the devil did you actually come here +for?' + +'Since I don't know myself, I ask you, Sir, how I am to tell you? You +see, Sir, I often get thinking ... I think so much ... that Ryfka +(that's my wife) asks, "Srul, what's the matter with you?" And what +can I tell her, for I don't know myself what it is. Perhaps some +people would laugh at me?' he added, as if fearing I were amongst +them. + +But I did not laugh; I was interested. Something, the cause of which +he himself could not explain or express in words, was evidently +weighing on him, and his unusually poor command of language added to +this difficulty. In order to help him I re-assured him by telling him +that I was in no hurry, as my work was not urgent and there would +therefore be no harm in our having an hour's talk, and so on.--The Jew +thanked me with a glance, and after a moment's thought opened the +conversation thus: + +'When did you leave Warsaw, Sir?' + +'According to the Russian calendar, at the end of April.' + +'Was it cold there then or warm?' + +'Quite warm. I travelled in a summer suit at first.' + +'Well, just fancy, Sir! Here it was freezing!' + +'Then you have forgotten, is that it? Anyway, with us the fields are +sown in April, and all the trees are green.' + +'Green?' Joy shone in Srul's eyes. 'Why, yes, yes--green:--and here it +was freezing!' + +Now at last I knew why he had come to me. Wishing to make certain, +however, I was silent: the Jew was evidently getting animated. + +'Well, Sir, you might tell me if there is any--with us now ... but you +see, I don't know what it's called; I have already forgotten Polish,' +he apologized shyly, as if he had ever known it--'it's white like a +pea blossom, yet it's not a pea, and in summer it grows in gardens +round houses, on those tall stalks?' + +'Kidney beans?' + +'That's just it! Kidney beans! Kidney beans!' he repeated to himself +several times, as if wishing to impress those words on his memory for +ever. + +'Of course there are plenty of those. But are there none here?' + +'Here! I have never seen a single pod all these past three years. Here +the peas are what at home we should not expect the ... the....' + +'The pigs to eat,' I suggested. + +'Well, yes! Here they sell them by the pound, and it's not always +possible to get them.' + +'Are you so fond of kidney beans?' + +'It's not that I am so fond of them, but they are so beautiful +that ... I don't know why ... I often get thinking and thinking how +they may be growing round my house. Here there's nothing!' + +'And now, Sir,' he recommenced, 'will you tell me, if those small grey +birds are still there in the winter,--like this--' and he measured +with his hand. 'I have forgotten their names too. Formerly there were +a great many, when I used to pray by the window. They used to swarm +round! Well, whoever even looked at them there? Do you know, Sir, I +could never have believed that I should ever think about them! But +here, where it's so cold that even the crows won't stop, you can't +expect to see little things like that. But they are sure to be there +with us? They are there, aren't they, Sir?...' + +But I did not answer him now. I no longer doubted that this old +fanatical Jew was pining for his country just as much as I was, and +that we were both sick with the same sickness. This unexpected +discovery moved me deeply, and I seized him by the hand, and asked in +my turn: + +'Then that was what you wished to talk to me about? Then you are not +thinking of the people, of your heavy lot, of the poverty which is +pinching you; but you are longing for the sun, for the air of your +native country!... You are thinking of the fields and meadows and +woods; of the little songsters, for whom you could not spare a +moment's attention there when you were busy, and now that these +beautiful pictures are fading from your recollection, you fear the +solitude surrounding you, the vast emptiness which meets you and +effaces the memories you value? You wish me to recall them to you, to +revive them; you wish me to tell you what our country is like?...' + +'Oh yes, Sir, yes, Sir! That was why I came here,' and he clasped my +hands, and laughed joyfully, like a child. + +'Listen, brother....' + +And my friend, Srul, listened, all transformed by listening, his lips +parted, his look rivetted to mine; he kindled, he inspired me by that +look; he wrested the words from me, drank them in thirstily, and laid +them in the very depth of his burning heart.... I do not doubt that he +laid them there, for when I had finished my tale he began to moan +bitterly, 'O weh mir! weh mir!' He struck his red beard, and in his +misery tears like a child's rolled fast down his face.... And the old +fanatic sat there a long time sobbing, and I cried with him.... + +Much water has flowed down the cold Lena since that day, and not a few +human tears have rolled down suffering cheeks. All this happened long +ago. Yet in the silence of the night, at times of sleeplessness, the +statuesque face of Baldyga, bearing the stigma of great sorrow, often +rises before me, and invariably beside it Srul's yellow, drawn face, +wet with tears. And when I gaze longer at that night-vision, many a +time I seem to see the Jew's trembling, pale lips move, and I hear his +low voice whisper: + +'Oh Jehovah, why art thou so unmerciful to one of Thy most faithful +sons?...' + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] Baldyga means 'lump' or 'clumsy lout.' + +[11] The river near his home. + +[12] 'Docha.' + +[13] _i.e._ Polish. + + + + +IN AUTUMN + +WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +The rain and bad weather, which had continued without interruption +for several days, had kept the inhabitants of the hut, 'Talaki,'[14] +prisoners indoors, and condemned them to idleness. They constantly +went out of the room to gaze long and sadly at the weeping sky, for +the hay was rotting in the fields;--but alas! a grey film of rain hung +over all the surrounding country, and in vain their eyes sought +longingly for the smallest chink of blue in the heavy, dark clouds. + +To add to the misfortune, the rain, not content with the holes left in +the roof from the year before, made a number of fresh ones. It thus +poured into the room from all sides on to people's heads and +shoulders, and formed quite a deep and ever-growing pool underfoot. +Various forms of filth, remains of food, refuse of fish and game, the +dung in the corner where the calves were kept, which had been trodden +down and had dried in the course of the year, became moist, and filled +the interior of the 'yurta'[15] with an unbearable smell. It was +therefore stuffy, cold, and damp there. The fire, burning rather +slowly, was choked by balls of grey smoke, which went across the room. + +The hut was tiny; it occupied no more than twenty-four square yards of +the solitude surrounding it. The slanting walls, made of barked larch +trees placed perpendicularly, and narrowing towards the top, +diminished its size still more. The flat roof was built of rafters of +the same wood, and came down so close to the inhabitants' heads that +one of them, Michawio, a big lad, while unwinding a bundle of nets at +the little window, hit his curly shock head against it. + +A plank partition, hewn out with a hatchet, ran through the centre of +the room, and divided it into equal parts, the right being for the +men, the left for the women. By a post at the end of the room, with +his face turned towards the fire, his hands on his right knee, and +smoking a pipe, sat my host, Kyrsa,[16] a Yakut. Still hale, though no +longer young, he was the wealthy and independent master of field +labourers, and the owner of the house, of many nets, animals, and +implements, as well as of three women:--a wife, and two daughters. The +youngest was sold already, but she was living with her father, as the +sum agreed upon for her had not yet been paid in full by the buyer. + +There was deep silence in the room,--a rather unusual thing in a place +where several Yakut people are together. The fire roared and hissed in +the chimney, and behind the partition the girls made a squeaking sound +as they rubbed the skins together. I had a foreboding that this +silence would end badly; indeed, the storm soon broke out. The lad +nicknamed 'Shmata' brought it on by his incompetence. After wandering +from corner to corner all day, he now upset a bucket and spilt the +water. This was the last straw. All eyes flashed, and faces grew pale. + +The frightened Shmata tried to lay the blame on Michawio, who had been +stooping down near him to look for a strap. Michawio in revenge +reminded Shmata of what had happened about the rake the year before. +The quarrel had begun in earnest. Their tongues, moving with the speed +of a windmill, and throwing out invectives and sneers, formed an +accompaniment to the host's threatening shouts, which rang out like +the trump of the Archangel. Nor did our hostess fail to leave her +seclusion to take part in the skirmish with the excitement peculiar to +women all the world over. The yurta suddenly became like a disturbed +beehive. The host affirmed, the hostess denied, the labourers hurled +abuses at one another, the girls uttered war cries, the baby woke up +and screamed in its cradle, and the calves lowed in answer to the loud +mooing of the cows, whom evening had driven near the house door. This +last occurence had a perceptible influence in diminishing the noise, +for it caused the female element to withdraw from the fight; in fact, +the disturbance might have been conjured away completely, if the happy +thought of adding something at the very moment when everyone else was +quieting down, had not entered our host's head. + +This remark burst out unexpectedly, like a belated bomb after a +battle, and produced such a din that the cows and calves were silent, +the wind abated in fright, the clouds fled, and I became aware of a +golden sunbeam penetrating the holes in the bladder at the window, and +falling suddenly into the interior of our dark, dirty, noisy hovel. +Merrily and brightly it rested in a shining circle on the closely +cropped grey head of my host, before whose nose his wife's large +closed fist was hovering at that moment. 'That's for you! Take that! +Go on!' Kuimis cried, still beautiful in her anger. The fist came +closer and closer to the unfortunate man's mouth. + +What happened further? Did Kyrsa avenge himself like a man for that +greatest of all insults possible to a Yakut from a woman? Or did he +show himself to be the 'wife of his wife,' an old woman and a +simpleton, as the neighbours called him, and refrain from knocking out +the teeth or breaking the ribs of the active woman by whose work he +lived and had grown rich? I do not know, because, foreseeing the +overthrow of my friend, in whom love for his wife was always +struggling against a sense of duty, and not wishing to be a witness of +his defeat, I shouldered my gun and went out of the cottage. + +The wind had dropped, the covering of clouds was torn open, and bits +of pale blue sky were unveiled here and there. The sun peeped out +suddenly through one of these little gaps, and the landscape, which +had been dreary and joyless a moment before, brightened into a golden +splendour. A light shadow, half cheerful, half sombre, fell across its +faded autumn foliage, and in this half smile it resembled a forsaken +woman, to whom the caprice of a lover, who has already grown cold, +offers a moment of tenderness and happiness again. Drops of rain +glistened like brilliants on the dark branches of the trees and +bushes; the sky was coloured in shades of carmine, and the pearly +tears of the passing storm trembled on the willows, still swaying from +it. + +Before me, between two high promontories overgrown by woods which ran +in opposite directions, sparkled the surface of the lake. In +proportion as it stretched into the distance, its bank became more +winding, lower, and mistier, until it disappeared at the outlet of a +gorge. Owing to the distance, the tall, thin larches, the thick +willows, bushes, and grass growing there looked quite small, but the +rays of the sunset, falling on them from behind, produced a wonderful +lace-work of dark branches and leaves against a pale-rose sky. Grey +clouds hung above them, heavily embroidered with gold and purple. The +waves sported and chased one another below on the foam-splashed banks +of the lake, which was painted with colours from the sky. + +I walked towards the gorge, by the footpath leading through a meadow +which was now turning yellow. + +That 'demons' forest'[17] looked dark and horrible close at hand. The +flat hills, uniformly covered with soft moss of a dirty green, and +with cranberry leaves, undulated gently westwards towards the sinking +sun. The wood covering these hills was sparse and stunted, and +disfigured them rather than otherwise, for single trees stood out here +and there like the remaining hair on a bald man's head. Silence, and +the gloom of oncoming night already filled the interior of the forest. +Only here and there a forgotten ray of sunshine was burning itself out +above in the bare, wind-twisted summits of the larches. + +I stood for a moment, looking at that wild spot, which no native would +have dared to approach. A deep stillness lay upon it; the waves beat +more and more gently and noiselessly; the sunset was fading away, and +only where the network of bushes was less close a transient gleam +lighted the surface of some lakes, which had hitherto been unknown to +me. I walked on towards them, impelled by curiosity and a feeling of +longing. + +The way proved more difficult than I had expected. At every moment I +was obliged to jump or climb over bushes and avoid the deep, narrow +wells, boarded round with tree-trunks felled a hundred years before +and perfidiously concealed by the mosses and plants overgrowing them. +As these wells were full of water, with bottoms as slippery as ice, an +unwary pedestrian could easily break his neck or fracture a leg by +falling into them. In many places swampy streams trickled along +undefined channels, and though their banks were shallow, they were +boggy and difficult to cross on account of the trunks and branches +lying in them. The wood was full of trees with projecting, mud-covered +roots, which now, when everything was assuming an indefinite shape in +the twilight, looked twisted and monstrous. The white patches of +lichen shining in the darkness at the foot of the trees like the +immense shreds of a pall, emphasized and doubled their weird +appearance. It is, therefore, no wonder that in the purple light of +dawn, or in the moonlight, the natives should here see the tall +wood-demon's pale face,--the Slav hunter who came from the South and +now roams near the Yakut cottages, injuring cattle. + +Woe to the district where his shadow passes! Often from fifty to two +hundred beasts fall dead at one shot from those terrible Southern +arms. + +That evening, however, I met none of these inhabitants of the wood. I +also did not see the 'demons,'--the dry Tungus corpses. At one time +they were to be found here quite frequently, and the forest takes its +name from them. Shrivelled and horrible, they usually sit somewhere +under a tree or cleft in a rock, gazing eastwards with eye-sockets +pecked by the birds. On their knees they hold a wooden bow, or a +rifle, at their feet lies a hatchet with a broken handle, and at their +belt, inlaid with silver and beads, hangs a broken knife in its +sheath,--also broken, in order to prevent the dead man from doing any +mischief after death. A little to one side lie scattered the bones of +the reindeer, killed on his grave, the harness, and the small Tungus +sledge. No one ever dares to possess himself of any of these +considerably valuable articles, for punishment threatens the +foolhardy, inasmuch as he loses his way all day long until he returns +to the same place and restores the stolen object. Until they give +ample satisfaction, and atone to the angered owner by a gift, +obstinate people return some thirty, even a hundred times without +being able to escape from the magic circle. It is dangerous even to +touch any of the things belonging to the dead man, since that evokes a +storm, or, at best, a high wind. Although the kindly natives had +advised me to avoid meeting with the 'demon,' since it brings early, +and sometimes immediate death, I was very sorry not to have seized him +red-handed that evening. However, I came to be severely punished for +this sinful wish. + +The twilight deepened. The last purple resplendance had already faded +from the sunset, when tired and tattered, I at last succeeded in +pushing my way through the bushes of the 'demon's forest.' The sky was +dark, and twinkling with myriads of stars. My expedition had failed in +every respect. To complete the misfortune, the white mists hung like +muslin over the valley, and entirely prevented me from satisfying my +curiosity. I was therefore only able to take pleasure in the play of +the moonlight. + +It was really a beautiful view, although rather wild and gloomy. +Nearly the whole of the broad valley, to the very edge of the wood +where the dark, bare tree-tops projected beyond the border of mist, +was filled by white balls of vapour; the moon was moving slowly above +them. Looking for a moment into the depths of the valley, she drew +aside the floating veil, and touched the sleeping lake below with her +silvery kiss. I stood a long while to gaze and to rest. The deep +silence, the stillness which always reigns in these woods, the +knowledge that no one but myself was to be found in that solitude for +twenty versts round, filled me with a strange feeling of anxiety and +longing. I roused myself in order to dispel this. It was unfortunately +time to think of returning;--no easy matter, however, for in making my +way through the wood, I had lost a clear conception of the right +track. At last I hit on a small footpath, and decided to follow it in +the hope that it would lead me to some inhabited spot. I had scarcely +gone twenty steps before becoming persuaded that I was not walking on +a path, but on one of the numerous tracks made in the wood by water or +animals. It was therefore necessary to return to the place from which +I had started, for only thence could I more or less trace the way +leading in a bee-line through the wood. But the place had disappeared; +the night had shrouded it in new and different shadows, and the mist +had drawn its silver web across it. I walked for some time, searching +in vain, and haunted by the thought of forest madness. I had seen +people brought home from the 'taiga'[18] no longer in possession of +their faculties, pale and miserable, and with the traces of terror and +madness in their eyes. These unhappy men had often lost their way +quite near houses, without seeing them or being able to recognize the +points of the compass, although the sun was shining, and they had +wandered about, crying and howling like wild animals. After +recovering, they said that they had seen the demon. One of the causes +of this illness is the fatigue brought on by the strain of the vain +search. So I sat down on a felled trunk, resolving to wait for +daybreak. + +The air was cool. My clothes were wet with the mist and rain, besides +being too thin for spending the night in the wood, so that I soon +began to suffer from the cold. I tried to light a fire, but the +matches were damp, and the only one which burnt could not set fire to +the moist brushwood and logs. Having, therefore, gathered some grass, +I hid my feet in it, as they were suffering the most from the cold; I +examined my gun, and loaded it, and then, crouching against a tree, I +tried to go to sleep. + +In a situation of this kind every sense is rapidly dulled,--touch, +smell, even sight; hearing alone becomes exceedingly acute. After only +a few minutes I could hear my heart beating, the blood pouring +through my veins, the whisper of the trees, the rustle of the mist, so +that the dead silence of the wood was broken in upon by sounds, which, +though scarcely audible, continued to increase. Suddenly a very real +sound rang out amid these fancied ones, and forced me to open my eyes. +It came from the further end of the lake, and was like the measured +strokes of an oar. I fixed my eyes on the spot whence it seemed to +come. The veil of mist was trembling slightly, and beyond it, in the +distance, something indistinct appeared low on the water. After a +moment a small Yakut pirogue emerged from the shadows, and sped along +the lake. I could perfectly well see the rower squatting in the bottom +of the boat, and striking first with one, then with the other blade of +his long oar, from the ends of which the water poured in a shining +stream, like molten silver. + +He soon approached the bank, and drew the boat to land. I crept +towards him, hiding in order that he should not see me too soon, and +run away, as I knew he would. He was engaged in taking something out +of the boat. + +'What news?' I greeted him, according to the local custom, coming +slowly out of the bushes. + +He started and exclaimed, but did not run away, for he recognized me, +and I him. He was a poor Yakut, who lived about five versts from me. + +'I know nothing! I have heard nothing! Oh, how you did frighten +me,--but it's all right!' he said hastily, giving me his hand. + +'What did you think it was?' + +'Why should one meet a man in the wood at night time?' he answered +evasively, eyeing me suspiciously from head to foot. 'You often think +it's a man you know, and you talk to him as if you knew him, and then +it turns out in the end not to be a man at all.' + +'What are you doing here so late?' + +'I am going home; it's a holiday to-morrow. I have a long way to go +from here to Babylon[19] for fishing,--thirty versts. You know we're +poor folk, we live by fishing,--we haven't any horses; so one is +always in a boat, always in a boat. As I was dragging it through the +wood I cut my foot, so I've got behindhand.' + +'You have cut your foot?' + +'It isn't much, for I've stopped the bleeding.' + +'Then perhaps it was you whistling and calling?' I asked, remembering +a strange sound I had heard a moment before. + +'I!--No!' He was silent, and I noticed him lean over the boat, and +cross himself. + +'And what are you doing here?' he asked in his turn. + +I hesitated. + +'Looking for ducks,' I lied, not wishing to frighten him more. + +'Ducks!' he repeated, laughing heartily, and his white teeth shone in +the darkness like pearls. + +'There have never been any ducks here!' + +'Never been any? Why?' I asked, as I helped him to draw the boat along +the edge of the wood towards the lake, which could be seen in the +distance. The fisherman was limping. + +'The lakes are different,' he explained, 'and there are as many lakes +in our country as stars in the sky, and the stars are only the +reflection of them. The lakes are as different as the stars:--there +are large and small ones, and some so deep that you can't reach the +bottom; or else they are shallow, or marshy. In one there are fine +fish, in another small, in some the water's bad, and makes a man ill, +because the cattle go into it, in others again it's as pure as air.' + +We halted on the bank, let down the boat into the water, and entered +it, the fisherman in front, I behind. Leaning lightly against one +another, back to back, we sailed along like a god with two faces of +which one was bearded and European, the other flat, clean-shaven, and +Mongolian. + +The Mongolian face continued its conversation, only interrupting it +now and then to give me a warning not to move when the boat rocked too +much. + +'Everything comes from the water. Even the cow lived in the water +until she was taken and tamed by man. There are different kinds of +wild beasts and even people living in the water, as there are on land. +Now just look!' and he pointed with his oar to the long water-weeds +swaying under the passage of the pirogue. 'Isn't that a wood?' It was +indeed a wood, dark and mysterious, visited only by fishes and drowned +men. Once he had fallen in, no swimmer ever extricated himself from +its thickets. + +'Old people say,' the Yakut continued, 'that formerly everything was +different,--everything was better, because there was more water, and +that even the sables used to come up to the farm gates, and there was +so much fish that it was enough to shoot an arrow into the lake to +draw it back with a good catch. But now there's nothing; the sables +have run away, and there isn't much fish. It's only the traders, our +fathers, who save us, or we should die. They give the money to pay the +taxes, they give tea, tobacco, and cotton. Eh yes! these traders! I'd +just like to be a trader!' + +The little boat struck the bank. We therefore drew it along to the +next lake, and continued the rest of our journey in this manner, this +being the sole means of travelling in summer in that country of lakes, +marshes, and swampy woods. + +After travelling thus for an hour along a narrow stream, overgrown +with bulrushes, we ultimately arrived at the last lake. The sparks +from a yurta chimney were glittering on its bank in the distance, like +tiny red stars. + +'I expect you are going to Chachak?' my companion asked, when we +stopped on the bank. 'I am spending the night there.' + +I took up some of the fisherman's things, and walked towards the +yurta. I had known Chachak for some time past already. He was a queer +man, who laughed at his own extravagances, and frequently even shocked +the feeling of the neighbourhood. 'Chachak has made himself a cap of a +whole wolf skin!' I had been told laughingly. 'Chachak has paid the +merchants only two roubles for a brick of tea; "they would make too +much profit by three roubles," he said!' + +'What about the merchants? Did they give it to him?' + +'Eh, why, his old woman gave it to them on the sly! Why! You don't +know Chachak! He won't give three roubles;--he won't drink, and he +won't give that!' + +Chachak had been famous in his youth as the best hunter in the +district, and wonders were related of his prowess and skill. He +preferred bear hunting to any other, and set out to it summer and +winter with his spear and gun, killing in the open field or lair, +just as it happened. He was as ready for such encounters as he was for +cards. Only let him hear of a bear, and from that moment he had no +peace until he had tracked and killed it. Many a time he had been +invited to accompany hunters who had found a den with several bears. +But burning with the fever for the chase, he had been unable to wait +until morning, and had slipped away in the grey dawn with his faithful +dog to hasten to the spot, where he was usually to be found, pale and +splashed with the blood of the 'forest lords.' There was nothing left +for his companions to do but for each to eat a portion of the hard +heart and liver of the vanquished, and to drink a cup of blood, +shouting the triumphant 'uch!' three times. All eyes would be upon +Chachak, who would try to appear indifferent, although excited and +feeling the just pride of a hero. Once, moreover, he had killed a bear +with a tail, which, as everyone knows, is not a bear, but a devil. Had +he not killed the 'icy demon,' who tracked people, carried off cattle, +and whom neither bullet nor spear could touch? Chachak himself never +spoke or boasted of his victories; he was always modest and reserved, +as befits a man who possibly knows more than others. Since the +accident which befell him during his last hunt, however, he had been +completely changed. He had given up hunting and playing cards, become +poor, and grown morose and strange:--he had lost his influence. + +His yurta stood near the bank, so I quickly found myself at its gate. +A bright fire was burning within, and voices could be heard talking. +So they were not asleep yet! I went up to the door, and peeped through +the chink. Chachak was sitting before the fire, with his face towards +me, holding a net which he was not winding, for his hand was stretched +slightly in front of him while he related something to the listeners +gathered round him. At his feet a small naked child played with the +brass chain of a knife hanging in a wooden sheath sewn to his leather +trousers above the right shin. Chachak was very animated; every now +and then he bent forward towards his listeners, and stamped his +massive heel on the clay floor of the cottage. + +'They have a horror of horseflesh, and eat pigs!' he was saying, 'yet +a horse is a very clean and sensible animal.' + +'Why, yes!' his listeners assented. + +'But pigs!--I have seen them! They're disgusting! They've no hair! +They're bare, dirty, stupid, and bad tempered! They've enormous +mouths, thin curling tails like snakes, small eyes, and teeth like a +dog's. They're spiteful too!--When I was at Yakutsk I had an adventure +with the pigs, and they all but ate me. There're lots of them there. +I had gone out by myself in the early morning to finish my pipe in the +passage; everyone was still asleep, and it had only just begun to +dawn. The pigs were going round the courtyard, squealing. I was young, +and liked a joke, so when they ran round me I shook my fist at them. +They rushed at me like mad!' He broke off with a laugh. 'I ran along +the passage, they after me; I jumped on to a bench, and they came +grunting round me, while I kept shaking my fist at them. Ha-ha!' + +He spat into his hand, and stretched it out before him. + +Suddenly the door creaked. The woman exclaimed, the lads jumped up +from the floor, the children began to cry. + +'Who's coming? A Russian, perhaps, and pigs with him!' Chachak stopped +talking, and drew back his outstretched fist. + +The entrance, as is usual in a Yakut yurta, was behind the fireplace, +the one source of light in the evening; thus a full minute of fear and +anxious expectation passed before I entered from the darkness. Yes, it +was a 'Russian,' but a well-known one, a friend, and, into the +bargain, without pigs! + +Their faces brightened, and they stretched out their hands, welcoming +me warmly and frankly, as guests are always welcomed in the North. +Chachak laughed, made room for me on the bench before the fire, and +ordered the kettle to be put on. + +'Tell us the news, and what is happening,' they begged me. + +I began to relate the local news. They all listened attentively, +although, as it turned out, they had already long known it. The +companion of my night journey entered, and the conversation became +general. The men grouped themselves round the table, on which +Chachak's wife had set supper for us; freshly made soup, sour milk, +and a large pile of fish, dried and smoked. + +Chachak stood at the fire, warming his back, and did not join in the +conversation. His daughter, a young and rather pretty girl, placed a +few white china tea-cups and saucers on the table, and the usual Yakut +entertainment began: tea with milk and cold refreshments, followed +later by a hot supper with fish. Although the offer of meat was very +tempting, and we were rather hungry, we were not equal to tasting all +the dishes set before us. Chachak noticed this at once, and attacked +me about it with his wonted brusqueness. + +'You aren't eating? You've had enough? What's this new fashion of +going to pay visits without being hungry? You Slavs eat like birds +when you go to people's houses, but you go home and call out: "Wife, +the samovar; put the saucepan on the fire,--I'm hungry." You're +disgraceful!' + +They all began to laugh, the old man no less than the rest. + +A general conversation was started, at first about different countries +and customs, but soon reverting to burning local questions. + +'What's wrong with Andshay? He's in trouble. There's no trace of his +boy.' + +'None?' + +'A pity! He was a sturdy lad!' + +'Have they found nothing?' + +'No. All the neighbours have been out to search; they've searched the +lakes, they've searched the wood, they've been searching for a whole +week. But there's nothing,--nothing.' + +'Ah!--sure to be a bear. They say one appeared in the valley; +Kecherges saw him,' muttered the fisherman, who had arrived with me. + +At the word, 'bear,' Chachak, who was standing by the fire, silently +playing with his fingers, suddenly looked up. Everyone stopped +talking, and involuntarily turned towards him. His old wife nervously +tried to change the subject. + +'A bear! Where was he seen?' Chachak asked quickly in a low tone, +sitting down on the bench. + +'Oh! Who can tell? Perhaps it wasn't one either,' the fisherman +answered hesitatingly. + +'A bear,--depend upon it!' Chachak said slowly. 'They have found +neither flesh nor clothes:--"He" usually buries the remains of his +prey in the ground,--"He" even scrapes the blood off. That's just what +"He" does. You say Kecherges saw "Him?"' he again asked the fisherman. + +'Lies!' the latter answered evasively. + +'Oh! "He"'s clever, "He"'s sly and revengeful! Andshay must have done +something to "Him" in order to be able to boast of it, or to have +something to talk about. "He" remembers insults a long time, that's +why "He" has carried the boy off. Although "He" lives far away, "He" +hears in the mountains and forest quite well what we are saying here, +and understands like a man,--better than a man! Who knows what "He" +is? Skin "Him," and you will see how like a woman "He" is. But "He"'s +revengeful,--and terribly fierce,' Chachak added, looking down. '"He" +doesn't forgive!' + +'You Russian,'--he turned to me suddenly,--'be ready for "Him" on the +road. Take care! Take care! Though a bear is big, "He" can go as +quietly as a shadow when "He" wants to fall upon a man unawares. I +advise you to stay the night with us; there's no joking with "Him"! +Once I was not afraid either, but now;--there--look!' He undid his +shirt sleeve. It was a terrible sight. The left shoulder, which, as I +had previously noticed, the old man could make little use of, was +shrunk and thin to the elbow, like a mere bone covered with skin, and +those veins and muscles which were unscathed, wound round the bone +close to the surface. There was a mass of white scars, crossing in +different directions. + +'I have killed many,--many!' he continued, 'and now I know that they +will eat me for it,--eat me because I'm afraid. It happened like this. +It was rather later in the season than this; it was freezing. I got +ready my spring-gun for elk-shooting, and God gave me one of these big +beasts. To have carted its flesh, skin, and inside along a bad road +would have needed seven or eight horses. So I decided to build a +larder on the spot, and to lay the elk in it for a time, till the road +became frozen. I and my boy set out early to work. The lad was +lingering a little way behind me, and I was walking quite quietly +along the road, and had just passed the willow which grows on the hill +not far from here, when "He" came upon me. He ran towards me like a +dog, and before I could look round "He" was already standing on his +hind-legs. I reached out for my knife, but tried in vain to drag it +from the sheath. There was a night frost, and on coming out of the +house I had not wiped my knife, as I should, after eating, so it had +frozen to the sheath. It was God's hand!--So the "Black One" knocked +me down. Finding myself overpowered, I seized him by the throat with +my right hand, and laid the left on his jaws, and called to the boy to +run for help. The silly boy jumped on him, and--whack!--went his +pocket knife into the bear;--he had a little knife that size,' and +Chachak measured with his finger. '"You want to eat my father!" he +shouted. The Black One was frightened, and jumped into the bushes. But +the boy had hit me in the chest with his knife, and I should have been +killed, had it been able to pierce the stag's hide. They could +scarcely bring me round again.' + +'And you see from that time, when "He," sitting on me, looked into my +eyes, my mind has been troubled. I am afraid,' he added quietly, 'very +much afraid.' + +Not long after I took leave of my kind hosts, and went home. The moon +was shining brightly, the mist had disappeared, and the well-known +foot-path shone white before me. I had gone along it a thousand times +without fear or thought of evil, but this time when I neared the place +where Chachak had been attacked I involuntarily fingered my +knife-handle, and for a moment I seemed to see the monster lying in +the shadow of the bushes, its shaggy muzzle on its outstretched paws. + +A few years later I heard that Chachak had disappeared without trace +in the wood: the 'forest lords' had doubtless accomplished their +revenge. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[14] 'Talaki,' Yakut for 'water-willow.' + +[15] 'Yurta' = Yakut hut. + +[16] 'Kyrsa' = white fox. + +[17] Native name for this forest. + +[18] 'Taiga' = primeval forest in Siberia. + +[19] A large lake to the N.E. of the Kolymsk district. + + + + +IN SACRIFICE TO THE GODS + +WACLAW SIEROSZEWSKI + + +Close to where the river Sheroka issues from a rocky gorge into a +broad valley, there is a wooden column, ornamented with carving. At +this column, which stands in the middle of a small meadow near the +water, the nomad Tungus assemble annually from the neighbouring +mountains. Hundreds of reindeer in the midst of a crowd of human +beings make a charming picture as the caravans travel thither +together. When the merry crowd enters the valley the splash of the +river is lost in a ringing echo of voices. + +Their camp-fires, scattered in a semi-circle in the wood at the foot +of the mountains, twinkle against the background of eternal shadows +like a shining girdle, in which the delicate spring green and the grey +diaphanous tissue of stems and branches are interlaced. + +This is the most agreeable season in the mountain valleys; gnats and +other insects have not yet begun to be worrying, the air is +delightfully cool, everything is unfolding and blossoming, and only +the winter snow on the summits of the mountains lies untouched by the +warmth. The pale, transparent sky above the snow neither darkens at +night nor glitters with stars, but shines with the Northern light +which joins the sunset of the fading day to the sunrise of the next. + +The people remain near the column in the clearing for a whole week. +The family elders, grave old men, meet here and discuss their common +needs, collect the tribute of hides, and settle all important matters. + +But the young men use the time for love and merry-making, dancing and +races. The valley rings with laughter and shouting, with the strokes +of the hatchet and the echoes of songs; the ground trembles under the +cloven hoofs of the furiously driven reindeer; the leather lassoes +swish through the air as they are thrown on to the antlers of the +animals destined for slaughter. And where work is most active, where +life is at its fullest the jingle of the women's glass and silver +ornaments is sure to be heard. + +So it has been time out of mind. But one year it happened differently. + +Numbers of people assembled in the valley, as usual, but the noise of +their talking did not drown the roar of the river. The youths did not +dance at the meeting place, no reindeer were to be seen racing. There +was no laughter, no singing. + +Nor did the counsels take place in common. The men assembled in small +groups in separate tents, with a dull look on their sad faces. They +talked without animation; jokes and laughter, so beloved by the +Tungus, were checked by a general sense of depression, and only rarely +indulged in. + +However, they did not disperse, but waited impatiently for the coming +of old Seltichan, without whom they would not have dared to have +settled any important matters. But the old man did not arrive. + +'The old man doesn't come, he doesn't come,--and he won't come,' +muttered one of the group, sitting among his companions, who were +circling round the fire. He was a stout man of possibly fifty years of +age, unlike a Tungus, and dressed like a Yakut, with a silver Yakut +belt. He had the puffed-up air of a rich man knowing his own +importance. 'Who cares to visit the dying?' he added, sulkily. + +'_You_ didn't try to escape your fate,' gloomily answered a poorly +dressed old man, as tawny as copper, and as wrinkled as moss, who was +sitting on the opposite side of the fire. + +'That is true!' a third repeated. 'You don't try to escape, you don't +hide. Didn't I run away, didn't I hide? And what came of it?' and, +with emotion, he began for the hundredth time to relate the story of +his misfortune. Each time it was received with equal attention. + +'When the news of the disaster came I was on the summit of Bur-Janga, +and was just getting ready to go down; but I hesitated, and delayed my +start. For a long while the God had mercy on me;--I know that!--till +one night I awoke terrified, with a beating heart. I listened:--I +heard what seemed like a shot, and loud calling. I drew my head from +under the cover, and again I seemed to hear a noise in the wood, like +distant shooting. The dogs whined and howled, as if they had noticed a +bear. I went out of the tent, and looked. The moon was shining, and an +immense shadow passed into the wood from the bottom of the valley, +avoiding the hills. The dogs fell at my feet, and I covered my eyes +with my hand, unable to look. My heart beat in my breast like a +frightened bird, my feet were rigid with terror.' + +'O-oh!' echoed the sighs of the listeners. + +'And what happened next?--A hundred reindeer fell dead at once. Not +waiting for dawn, we pushed on that very night. We fled, not halting +anywhere, but our herds became smaller every day. So I divided them, +and sent them in three directions; yet in a few days' time my +son,--and later my daughter,--returned empty-handed. Then I made up +my mind to flee to the end of the world, where no one ever goes. But +is there a place anywhere, to which no one has ever yet been? I took +nothing belonging to the dying animals, not even the halters; I left +everything. And when the leader fell I did not even take the figured +band from his head, which had come down to me from my ancestors.' + +'A-ah!' responded the listeners. + +'The women burst into tears at that,' he continued, encouraged by the +sympathy of his audience, 'but the Russian traders had advised it. +"Take none of His offering, Brother; He seeks out His own, and will +find it everywhere!" So I obeyed; I left it and fled. At last I had +gone so far that I grew frightened myself:--may be no one had ever +been there before me. There were no trees anywhere, not even +bushes,--only the same rocks and snow everywhere,--and the gale. It +was impossible to pitch a tent for want of poles, and I was afraid to +send to the wood for them, so we dug out a hole in the snow under a +rock, and settled ourselves in it. We were comfortable there, and +began to be cheerful once more, for the plague ceased. One day +passed,--a second,--and none of the reindeer had sickened. We waited +in the silence of fear; we not only avoided talking, but even thinking +about "Him," for possibly "He" too would forget us! We did not allow +the reindeer out of our sight, and we went where they led us, spending +the night among the herd, like the Chukchee. In this way some time +passed. My wife was already beginning to be cheerful, and I myself +thought that all would be well, and we should grow richer after a +while. But again I suddenly awoke in the night, torn by anxiety. The +moon was shining as on that other night, and everything was bright and +still all round. The tired reindeer were sleeping in a heap in the +snow. But a shadow hung in the air, falling independently, and not +from a rock.' + +Again the listeners responded with sighs. + +'I slipped out of bed cautiously, took my gun, and without dressing, +began to steal, naked, towards "Him." "He" did not notice me, for "He" +was standing on a rock, taking stock of what I possessed. But when I +made a slight sound as I was hurriedly taking aim, "He" turned and +fixed "His" great burning eyes on me. I shot between them. What +happened afterwards I do not know. Did "He" hit me, or cover me with +"His" breath? I have no idea. + +'Something like a storm passed over me; but when I regained +consciousness I had not a single reindeer left;--Tumara was a poor +man.' + +The speaker was silent, waved his hand, and starting to his feet, +stood with bowed head, and an expression of pain on his face. The +young men in the audience also stood up; but the old men did not stir +from their seats, and fixing their eyes on the speaker, waited for the +continuation of the story. + +'Well,--and then--?' + +Tumara raised his head and began to speak, but at that moment his look +fell beyond the edge of the circle and became absorbed in the +distance, his face showed astonishment, his lips trembled, and tears +rolled from his eyes. Everyone at once turned in the same direction. + +At some distance from the fire, and leaning against the back of a +reindeer as white as milk, stood a grey-headed Tungus in the old-time +national costume. Behind him, holding a riding-reindeer by the bridle, +was a young boy resembling him in face and dress. + +'Seltichan!' they all cried, 'you have come at last,--you!--our +father! We thought that you had forsaken us, who are dying! What news? +What have you heard and seen beyond the mountains? How fare the people +of Memel? Are they living still? Or are they, perhaps, also drawing +their last breath, as we are? And you, our leader, what do you mean to +do? Have you come alone, or with all your people? Are you going back +to the mountains? Or are you going to the coast?' The questions came +pouring out. + +Giving the bridle to his son, Seltichan joined the circle round the +fire, and greeted everyone singly by a shake of the hand. He sat down +beside the Kniaz,[20] dressed like a Yakut, who hastily made room for +him. Then, pulling a small Chinese pipe out of his tobacco-pouch, he +filled it slowly. The group became silent, and sat down again. + +'It is now two months since the plague reached its height,' the old +man answered in a calm, grave voice. 'The people of Memel have +dispersed terrified and fled to the coast, but by different ways, in +order to avoid the dangerous place. You need not expect them here. But +my camp will arrive this evening.' + +'Ah! Seltichan, who would ever doubt that you would come? You are +wise, you are daring, you, we know, fear nothing!' the Kniaz cried, +stretching out his hand towards his neighbour's lighted pipe. + +A shadow stole over the old man's face. + +'No one can escape his fate,' he replied coldly. + +'But you were born to happiness, Seltichan! Does not the God love you? +When whole herds were dying everywhere, did you not merely lose a +young calf?' + +Again a cloud came over the old man's face. + +'He loves me because I keep the ancient customs. My welfare does not +spring from human tears, but the mountains, the rocks, the woods, and +water bring it me,' the old man remarked drily. + +His hearers caught up his words. + +'Yes, indeed! Your hand was open; you supported your people in the day +of disaster, and shared in it.' + +'Yet who can help more easily than you?' said the Kniaz. 'What can I +give, for example, I, who have only goods for sale, and debts? Should +I distribute my debts in these hard times? It is true, I have nothing +against that! Yet I too am a Tungus;--what would anyone gain from my +accursed debts? They don't breed reindeer,' he ended, laughing. + +'Yes, indeed! We should die without you, Seltichan! Who supports us? +Whose herds are larger than yours? Who has a better heart? What family +is more distinguished and richer? Whose sons are more skilled shots, +and finer huntsmen? Whose daughters, when grown-up, most attract our +youths? Are you not the first among us,--you who neither suffer nor +fear, never lie, and never deceive as we do, and bow to your fate? +You, Seltichan! And to whom shall we go, if you will not have pity on +us?' came from all sides. + +'The God knows, I will share with you! That is why I am here!' the old +man answered, touched. + +'Tumara! Tumara!' the Kniaz cried, seeking the story-teller, 'finish +your tale. You will see, Seltichan, what happens later.' + +Silence prevailed again. Tumara, who was sitting in the front row of +the councillors, stroked his right ear with his right hand, and began +after a moment's pause. + +'I have told you already how, having lost the reindeer, we took our +goods and our children on our backs, and returned to the valley. Our +children became ill, and soon died from eating bad meat, which made us +weak too. But what can a hunter find in the wilderness at a time like +that?' + +'What, indeed?' + +'Very soon we were entirely without food. We had eaten all our stores, +leather bags, and old thongs, and the women's greasy scarves; there +was nothing left that could have a taste. Do not we, who encamp on the +mountains, know what hunger is? And was Tumara wanting in courage?' + +'He was famous for it!' the listeners asseverated. + +'But it happened thus, nevertheless;--we had been many, and only four +were left,--I, my wife, my son, and daughter. We went on, always +longing for the sight of human faces. We halted at all the known spots +and ancient resting places, and everywhere found the cold ashes of +fires:--the people had fled, scattered by the danger. And our +wanderings took us ever further from them. + +'But when, on coming down from the mountains, we saw bare tent poles, +all our courage forsook us. Notwithstanding, we went on further and +never stopped searching, for it is not an easy thing for a man to lie +down and die in the snow without giving any account of himself.--We +scraped the rubbish, and turned over the wet ashes of the cold fires +to find a morsel of food, stilling our hunger by knawing the bones +left by the dogs. At last it came to this that we could not look at +our own children, full of flesh and warm blood, without trembling. +"Tumara, let the girl die to save her parents," my wife said at last. +I was sorry for the child. She looked at us, not understanding. +"Tala," her mother said to her, "according to the old custom, when the +family is in danger, the daughter dies first."' + +'That is so!' the listeners affirmed. + +'"Go, Tala," she said, "wash in the snow, and look at the world for +the last time." The girl understood and tried to escape, but I held +her; so she cried and begged: "Wait till the evening, perhaps the God +will send something, I want to live; I am afraid!" So we waited and +watched. The girl was continually going out of the tent, and looking +towards the wood, shading her eyes with her hand. But each time her +mother was behind her, hiding a knife in her sleeve. It had already +begun to be dusk. The girl went out oftener and each time stood longer +on the threshold, while I lay in the shade of the tent, waiting to see +what would happen. Suddenly I heard a cry outside, which froze my +heart. My wife came in with the knife in her hand, staggering like a +drunken woman. "Have you killed her?" "No, the God has had pity," she +said, "there is a large elk running into the wood close by here!" I +jumped up and ran out of the door with my son. The girl was sitting by +the tent with outstretched arms, while not far off in the wood stood a +large elk.--' + +'Stood a large elk!' the listeners repeated. + +'Is it difficult for a hunter to kill an animal grazing? But my limbs +were dried up with hunger, my muscles weak with pain, and as I stole +towards my prey my hands shook so much I could scarcely keep the gun +in my hands. But when the animal had been hit, and tried to escape +into the bushes, we dashed after it like wolves. And thus the God +helped us;--we remained alive in order to die to-morrow.' + +Tumara ceased speaking, and bowed his head, again stroking his right +ear with his right hand. The listeners were silent. In that moment of +strained attention they seemed to hear the splash of each individual +wave in the river, the swish of each branch in the wood, as it rocked +in the gale. Suddenly another sound rang out distinct from these +continuous sounds, making all faces brighten, and all heads turn in +the direction whence it came. + +Young Miore, Seltichan's son, bent down to his father, and whispered: + +'Father, our people are coming!' + +'Yes, they are coming!' + +The train was actually approaching. + +The old men remained seated, but the young ones slipped out of the +circle one after another, and assembled in groups at the edge of the +bushes, whence the whole procession, appearing at the rocky outlet to +the valley, could be better seen. + +A young girl rode in front on a dark yellow reindeer. Her clothes were +richly ornamented with silver, a fact which at once suggested that she +was a great favourite in her family. She held a long spear in her +hand, and wore a band, embroidered with beads, on her loose hair. As +she rode along, she cleared her path by cutting away the twigs and +gnarled branches which might catch from behind on the packsaddle or +her clothing. When she raised her spear the sunbeams played on the +edge of its steel surface in a fiery gleam, and hovered over her head +for a moment like a will-o'wisp; then, passing along her shining +silver scarf, they fell on her right hand, and finally faded away in +the grass of the river-islands. + +'Choka! Chogai!' the charming girl exclaimed. She was accompanied by +two black dogs, which kept running ahead, and then turning back to +examine and sniff at everything, leaving nothing unnoticed. Following +her in a long line came the laden reindeer, some of which were being +ridden by women, and children who were tied on to the top like tight +bundles. + +At the very end of the caravan two armed huntsmen, aided by dogs, +drove a herd of unladen reindeer with their calves. The noise, +clatter, and bustle, the frightened calling of the cows seeking their +calves which had gone astray in the confusion, the jingle of bells, +the rattle of clappers hanging from the necks of the animals in front, +the cries of the men calling to the herd or keeping it in order,--all +this whirlpool of seething, exuberant life filled the valley with a +resounding echo, and fell on the ear of the listener as a great +familiar song of the happiness and well-being of a free nomad +existence. + +The spectators' eyes glistened. Unable to restrain an outburst of +feeling, they began to describe the impressions made upon them by the +scenes and faces passing by like fleeting shadows. + +'See, there is old Nioren!' + +'What an energetic old woman!' + +'Formerly all the Tungus women were like that.' + +'So they say--' + +'Look how cleverly she manages her reindeer.' + +'That's one good thing, but they say that she bore a son to Seltichan +not long ago, and that's better still.' + +'There's nothing wonderful in that; Majantylan's wife is older, and +she also bore--' + +'Hush! Look, there is Sala, the old man's daughter-in-law, about whom +they sing songs.' + +'But is she not worthy of them?' + +'Yes, indeed!' + +'You may chatter away, but if Miore hears you, he will give it you!' + +'What can he do to us? I am not afraid of him.' + +'Look,--look!--Laubzal!--Zleci!' + +'Actually!--What a wild reindeer!--They needn't have put a little boy +on it!' + +'He's a plucky lad! Look!--The old man will be delighted with him!' + +'And Chun-Me!' + +'Ah! Chun-Me! Chun-Me!' several sighed, their glances seeking the +girl with the steel-coloured fringe on her head. + +'They say that the Kniaz wants to win her for his son.' + +'Eh, the old man won't give him his favourite daughter,--not he!' + +When Seltichan's eldest son rode by,--a famous hunter, commonly known +by the name of 'Sparkling Ice,'--conversation was hushed out of +respect to him. + +And when the last reindeer of the caravan had disappeared into the +bushes, and the branches closed swinging behind it, Seltichan rose +from his seat and went away, taking leave of the company with a slight +nod. This was to indicate that he was expecting them all to come to +him shortly. + +That evening there was a crowd round the old man's tent, for nearly +all the temporary inhabitants of the valley were present. The host +gave orders for several reindeer to be killed, and welcomed his +guests. With the light-heartedness of true Tungus, they forgot their +sufferings in satisfying their hunger after their long fast, and began +to dance and join in cheerful songs. + +The old men sitting by the fire watched the younger ones with +enjoyment, and beat time with their heads, repeating the refrains. + +'What do you think, Oltungaba, will the God withdraw his punishing +hand, and allow joy to return to the mountains?' Seltichan asked, +turning to one of the guests, the old man who was as dark as copper, +and as wrinkled as moss. + +'Our life, Seltichan, is a shadow falling upon the water,' Oltungaba +answered meditatively. + + * * * * * + +The following morning the people in the valley awoke in an unusually +solemn mood. The day proclaimed itself rich in events. The weather was +exquisite, the sky clear and blue, without a trace of cloud. + +Having assembled at the conference, the older and prominent members of +families took their places in the front row, the younger ones behind +them, and the women and children still further off, beyond the edge of +the circle. Oltungaba, yielding to numerous entreaties, walked into +the centre, and bowing, said: + +'Why do you ask this of me, regardless of my old age?' + +'To whom else can we turn?' + +'There are distinguished shamans who are younger.' + +'Oh, Oltungaba, who would dare to prophesy in your presence?' was +asked from all sides. + +The old man was silent, and looked distrustingly at the excited +assembly. + +'You hesitate,--when, maybe, the last day has come for many?' + +'I am not thinking of myself, but calling to mind the ancient customs. +Who will interpret my language to you? A difficult time demands a +difficult language, and a painful time a painful language. And why +arouse danger unnecessarily? If no brave man is found, must I die?' + +'Let us all die! Surely, Oltungaba, you wish us well? We are +resolved.' + +'Then let it be so,' he assented, after a short moment's thought. + +Two of the most famous shamans offered him a shaman's cloak with the +long fringe, and a number of metal amulets and musical instruments. +Then they smoothed out the old man's hair, and placed a horned iron +crown on his head. An elderly Tungus, in attendance on the shaman, was +drying a drum at the fire meanwhile. When perfectly dry and taut, he +tested its elasticity by a blow with a small mallet. The well-known +mournful sound stirred the echoes of the valley, and interrupted the +talking. A white reindeer skin, with the head turned towards the +south, was then spread in the middle of the circle. The old man sat +down on it, and lighting his pipe, swallowed the smoke, and washed it +down with water. Then he poured out the rest of the water to the four +quarters of the globe, and turning his face to the sun, fell into a +state of complete torpor. He sat thus for a long while with bowed +head, his hair falling into his eyes, and his look fixed on the +blinding white of the mountain tops. At length a shiver ran through +his body, followed by a violent sob. The shivering and sobs increased +by degrees until they passed into incessant convulsions and groans, in +part feigned, in part real. The spectators could be heard sobbing +also. + +An old woman dropped down in a fit. + +At the same moment a fleeting, dark shadow fell on the ground close to +the shaman: an eagle was hovering between him and the sun. A piercing +cry rent the air, and the people bent like grass before the gale. + +Who cried? The shaman or the eagle? + +No one knew. + +'It is bad, it is bad,' the people murmured. + +'Hush!' + +The drum sounded several times with a deep and mournful echo, as the +crowd was frightened into silence.--The eagle flew away into the +distance. + +Once more there was stillness, interrupted only by the shaman's +muttering. After a while isolated sounds, coming, as it seemed, from +the distant wood and depths of the mountain clefts, began to mingle, +like the murmur of a swarm of bees, or the twitter of birds calling to +one another. Then Oltungaba shook his bells. By degrees these sounds +grew louder, and came nearer, until they passed away in the roar of +the waterfall and the splash of the rain which was now falling in +torrents. Yet deep and painful sighs, repeated more and more +frequently, could be heard above the rush of the water. Oltungaba +suddenly raised the drum above his head. Trembling violently, and +covered with the pelting hail, he began to utter frightened sounds, +like a sheep chased by a wolf. Then, all at once, throwing his hand +into the soft reindeer skin, he became silent, but continued to +tremble. + +'Oh, Goloron!' the shaman groaned, hiding his face with his hands. + +And there was stillness once more. Nothing was heard but the shaman's +sobs and indistinct mutterings, accompanied by the beating of the +drum. Above these sounds rose the intermingled cries of eagles, hawks, +crows, and lapwings, which appeared to be circling in flights round +the mountain tops. Their shrieking and cawing alternated with the +shaman's unintelligible incantations. It almost seemed as if they +foresaw some dreadful event, and were hastening to bring news of it in +advance to the lords of the aeerial world. + +By degrees the incantations became more distinct, the words more +intelligible, till finally the first strophe of a chant burst from +the shaman's lips. + +'Do ye hear the roar of the sea?' + +'Ah yes!' answered the attendant. + +'I who am the first in creation--' + +'Verily,' the attendant replied. + +'I, the first among the chosen--' + +'In truth,' the attendant repeated. + +'Let them come blazing, like the shield of the sun!' + +'Let them come!' + +'He himself like the clouds,--the fiery raven precedes him--' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'Riddles for a child!' + +'I am thy son. I, wretched one, walking the earth, implore thee!' + +'I implore!' + +'Aid my weak strength in this stony path.' + +'Oh, aid!' + +'Oh, drum, my herald, and wind, my wings!' + +'Aye, verily--' + +'I approach you, encircled by winged and restless--' + +'Winged and restless--' + +'Their claws are open, their throats are extended--' + +'Extended--' + +'The mountains groan, the earth trembles within--' + +'Ah!--' + +'And I go ever fearfully, yet unhindered--' + +'Protect me, my lord, I cry to thee--' + +'For I am from the suffering nation!' + +'I am indeed.' + +'Mighty helper, angry, threatening saviour, have pity!' + +'We pray!--' + +'If I err, let me not perish on the pathless track!' + +'Let me not!' + +'Save the erring, lead me.' + +'We go--' + +Growing more and more animated, the old man stood up, and began to +dance. + +The dance resembled a march. The shaman described what he met in his +path in fantastic language, and by gestures. The attendant followed +him, repeating his words, and, at moments, supporting him by the +elbow. Thus they came to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly +the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in silence, and then sang: + +'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions below the earth, ruling +over the air, sickness, and death itself.--' + +'Oh, Etygar!' + +'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge wings, thou, who shelterest +from destruction--' + +'Iniany!' + +'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power of second-sight!' + +'And thou, Normandai, whose piercing cry turns the heart to ice!' + +'And thou, iron-feathered Wavadabaki! And thou, whom we only know by +thy shadow!--' + +'I ask what you may require, and what is the cause of your anger? +Restrain your ministers, withhold your persecutions. Know ye not that +we perish, and if we perish, who will prepare your offering?' + +'Who will?' + +'To you I come defenceless, entangled in a long cloak. My head is bent +with years, my open eyes cannot see far.' + +'It is even so!' chimed in the attendant, who had been silent +hitherto, not daring to repeat all these awful incantations. + +'Going to the sea, and returning to the sea, I am a Nomad--' + +'Yea, verily--' + +'Ye like dark reindeer, ye like dappled reindeer; have they ceased to +be pleasing?' + +'Have they ceased?' + +'Ha! Ha! Ha! When you dance, do you forget us, and being merry, do you +shun us?' + +'Is it, perhaps, rich furs, silver, glass ornaments, coloured dresses, +sweet cakes, or vodka that you desire?' + +'That cannot be!' exclaimed the attendant. + +'Fools! Something, were it even everything, must be taken for the +powerful!' + +'Therefore choose a young girl from among us, and we will dedicate +her.' + +There was silence. + +'Oh, fiery Goloron, feared on the earth, proclaiming--' + +Again there was silence. + +Oltungaba beat the drum, and the strokes rolled like thunder between +the awful words, which, uttered haltingly, seemed to come from a +distance. + +'They give the scraps to the dogs! Let the people humble themselves, +and an obedient man be found; otherwise they will fade like the +morning mist.' + +'O-oh! How can we possibly give anything, possessing nothing?' + +'I will therefore tell you how it was in former days. Let it be he who +is proud, he who is rich, whose sons are famed for their shooting, and +daughters for their beauty; whom all love, whose thoughts are kind, +and counsels wise, whose heart is brave, whose hand is open, whose +soul seeks good. We wish to see the bewildered terror, the pale face, +the tears of separation.' + +Oltungaba became silent, and let the drum fall. + +'No!' he said, after a moment's reflection, 'I will not disclose the +name; possibly they may say; "Oltungaba is jealous." Yet what is human +blood to me? A shaman needs nothing but his drum.--I have said +everything.' + +He concluded the rest of the ceremony rapidly, and took his place +among the spectators, gloomy and exhausted. Tea was offered to him and +the more honoured guests. The young men began to kill reindeer for the +others, and to put the cauldron on the fire without delay. Yet none of +this was accompanied by the gaiety and animation which usually +prevails among the Tungus on such occasions. Those present talked with +great restraint, lowering their voices almost to a whisper. They +behaved with marked politeness to the family of Seltichan, and took +pains not even to look at their host. + +Seltichan was as calm and friendly as usual, as if he had not noticed +anything, and even tried to start a conversation with Oltungaba. But +the shaman preserved a gloomy silence. Then Seltichan began to relate +aloud how he had spent that year beyond the mountains, throwing in +various hunting anecdotes which he told with so much humour that he +was soon surrounded by cheered and even smiling faces. + +Only his favourite son, Miore, who was standing behind him, looked +gloomily at everyone. + +The frame of mind usual before a meal slowly gained the ascendancy. +And when the pieces of savoury meat were taken from the cauldron, +everyone had quite forgotten to be sad. Then Seltichan, forsaken by +his listeners, became depressed at once, and Miore, watching his +father attentively, grew gloomier still. + +Unable to restrain himself longer, the lad burst forth angrily to +Oltungaba, as he approached: 'I can see that you really want to make +away with the old man.' + +The latter regarded him with angry surprise. + +'You are young and ignorant--' + +'But nothing shall come of this,' Miore answered, and withdrew, +shaking his head. + +This short conversation did not escape other people's attention. + +By the end of the banquet Seltichan had regained his usual amiability, +as became a host who was entertaining the second day running without +regard to his herds. But on returning to his tent he no longer +concealed his anxiety, and sat meditatively before the fire, paying no +heed to anything; he did not even see the supper his wife placed +before him. + +'Eat, Seltichan; do not grieve, my lord; I am your faithful servant!' +she said at last, shaking him by the shoulder and looking at him +affectionately. + +The old man turned enquiringly towards his wife, and smiled. He ate +heartily and with relish, for, according to Tungus ideas, no event in +life is great enough to deprive a fat reindeer of its savouriness. + +The following morning Seltichan awoke earlier than the rest, and +possibly for the first time since becoming head of the family, he did +not stir the half-extinguished fire, but, without waking anyone, +quietly escaped from the tent. + +The sun was shining, although it had not yet risen above the +mountains. The dawn had disappeared, and it was broad daylight. Here +and there golden lines bordered the blue shadows of the clefts in the +snow-clad mountains. But meanwhile in the valleys, man and Nature were +still asleep:--the wood slept, wreathed in mist; the embers glowed +faintly on the cool hearths; the reindeer lay on the moss in the +bushes, chewing the cud. The only sounds were the gurgle of the river, +and the chuckle of the mountain pheasants, which were leaving their +hidden roosting places, and flying to the tree tops. + +The old man gazed at the familiar valley long and attentively. +Suddenly he trembled. He could see a man standing before one of the +tents in the distance; he also seemed to be looking at the surrounding +country. Seltichan's keen glance recognized Oltungaba, but the tent, +before which he was standing, belonged to the Kniaz. The old man's +face clouded, and he went home. + +'Get up, children!' he cried. 'Heh! Chun-Me! light the fire! You've +had enough sleep for a day like this!' + +They all sprang up frightened, and began to busy themselves. The old +man looked on with pleasure while the work was silently shared in the +order established by centuries. The women put the tea-kettle and +cauldron on the fire, and carried the bedding out of doors; the men, +after examining their thongs and arms, prepared to go into the wood to +call the herd together. The bustle stopped when the tea was ready. +They all sat down gravely round a plank serving as table, but as the +host was silent, no one dared to talk, although all, not excepting old +Nioren, were excited. The young women and girls looked at their father +in unspeakable fear. Miore was sad and angry, but 'Sparkling Ice' +regarded the old man with respect, not unmixed with a certain degree +of curiosity. + +After drinking his tea, Seltichan ate something, and lighted his pipe. +Then he said to his youngest son: + +'Go out, boy, and call the people.' + +Miore did not stir from his seat. + +'Do you hear?' + +Not until the command had been repeated threateningly did the lad rise +and begin to buckle on his things. But, instead of going, he suddenly +threw himself at his father's feet. + +'Are you determined? Are you determined? Oh, father do not leave us! +The family will never agree to it. I was talking to the young men +yesterday, and they said: "Rather than that, let all our reindeer die, +and we will live by industry." But if they do decide on that in the +end,--let the fat Kniaz be killed!' + +'You are foolish, my boy,' the old man said with a smile. 'You do not +know yet what I shall do. I wish to see the people.--Go, I tell you!' + +'Oh, my lord, why do you deceive us with hope?' + +'Don't talk nonsense.--I have already told you--' + +'They will never let us off; it would be better to escape secretly.' + +'I have already told you--' the old man repeated obstinately. + +'Oh Father, let us escape, let us escape!' they all begged, stretching +out their hands towards him. But the old man thrust away Miore, the +most impetuous of them all, with a kick in the chest, and cried: + +'Cursed birds of ill-omen, cease from breaking my heart!' + +'I would like to know,' said 'Sparkling Ice,' who had been gloomy and +silent hitherto, 'why Miore does not obey when our father commands +him?' + +The lad, who was lying as he had fallen, rose, and left the tent in +silence. + + * * * * * + +Once more the people, from small to great, were assembled at the +column in the valley. The armed men were dressed in their best +attire,--various kinds of fur, which hung in long fringes. The sun +shone on their ornaments as they took their seats in small bands +according to families. They amused themselves, wrestled, and in no way +betrayed the reason for coming there. + +The members of Seltichan's family were distinguished among the rest by +their choice arms and rich clothing, as well as by their strength, +skill, and the proud independance of their bearing. Seltichan himself, +who occupied the seat of honour among them, watched everything that +took place with great attention. + +'The tribe is enfeebled, and dying out,' he said from time to time. +'Was it not so with the family of Tumara? Where is Leljel, who was no +less flourishing than we? Where is Nilken?' + +'If you leave us, we also shall be enfeebled and dispersed,' his +family answered him. + +'"Sparkling Ice" will remain after me;--he is not my son, but my +comrade!' + +The grief of Seltichan's family on hearing this made the old man +hesitate as he looked at them. + +Meanwhile the excitement prevailing in the assembly increased, and +strange rumours were whispered abroad. Somehow it came about that the +members of Seltichan's family became more and more isolated from the +rest, and were greeted with silence when they approached. Miore and +some of the other young men were not disconcerted by this, however, +and continued to mix freely with the crowd. + +In the evening they all dispersed, but the excitement did not die +down, and was only transferred to the tents and the camp fires. People +sat talking in low voices until late into the night, alarmed when they +saw anything unusual. Several even sharpened their spears. 'A man like +that does not die without something happening,' they said. + +On the third day they all came fully armed. Many of the young warriors +brought their spears with them, and stood leaning on them outside the +circle. The deliberations did not begin, but the excited whispers +which passed round the crowd showed the passionate, though +restrained, feeling. All eyes were continually turned towards +Seltichan, who was sitting splendidly dressed among his sorrowing +family, he alone calm and cheerful. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' whispered several. + +'Shall we allow the old man to cheat us?' asked the Kniaz, going from +one to the other. + +'Well, and what then?' they asked him at one meeting. 'Perhaps you +think it will be easier to get hold of the daughter when the old man +is not there? You need not expect it; "Sparkling Ice" will never give +her to you. He has not forgotten that little affair.' + +'What affair? May all my reindeer die, and may I stay in one place to +the end of my life, like a Russian in a wooden house, if that is +true,' swore the Kniaz. 'Oltungaba is not a man of that sort!' + +'Oltungaba drinks vodka!' + +The Kniaz became confused, and did not know what to answer at once. +'Idiots!' he finally exclaimed, and stroking both ears, he ran off to +carry his complaints elsewhere. + +All this increased the excitement, and caused a great deal of talk, +which ultimately reached Miore's ears through Seltichan's kinsmen. +'Father, they are deceiving you,' the youth exclaimed passionately, +going up to him. 'You are willing to die, but it is all the doing of +the Kniaz; he has bribed Oltungaba! He thinks there will be no one to +equal him when you are not here! Father, I beg you, escape quietly. +Our tents are struck, the young men are ready, the reindeer saddled; +we shall be on the mountains before they have noticed anything. And +even should they do so, are we not your children?' + +Seltichan's face clouded. + +'Let Oltungaba be summoned,--let him be tried!' he cried, rising. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' exclaimed many of Seltichan's family. + +'Oltungaba! Oltungaba!' was heard on all sides. + +The grey-haired old man entered the circle reluctantly, looking as +dark as moss. + +'Is it true that you have taken a bribe from the Kniaz? That out of +regard to him you have deceived us?' they all cried. + +'Wait a little; let one speak! Don't you see that I have only two +ears, so that a hundred voices only bewilder me?' + +'Then let one speak!' + +The head of one of the most distinguished families, who was very +highly respected, stepped forward, and sitting down, began to ask +questions. + +'Did you take bribes?' + +'Why shouldn't I take them? Don't I live on men's bounty? Haven't both +you and Seltichan given me some too? The Kniaz also gave one, but he +didn't ask for anything, and I promised him nothing. Is it not a sin +to suspect it? How is it possible to say such a thing? The man will +die! Ask his people.' + +Witnesses were summoned, and the Kniaz was summoned. They all stood in +the centre of the angry circle, looking rather frightened, but the +enquiry led to nothing. The only thing that was clear was that +Oltungaba had visited the Kniaz in his tent, as he had visited others, +and had profitted by his liberality. + +Stroking his ears with both hands, and swearing with quite unusual +fervour, the Kniaz talked at extraordinary length of his +disinterestedness, his merits, his zeal in safeguarding the interests +of the tribe with the government, and, above all, of his +sacrifices--in paying taxes. + +Oltungaba spoke scornfully, and in monosyllables. + +'You don't believe me, Seltichan,' he said finally, turning to the old +man. 'Have you forgotten how I loved and taught you when you were a +boy; how I advised you in difficulties, told you old legends, and +about distant countries? Was I not your father's comrade,--his friend +when you were still a little child, crawling on the ground? And +later, when you grew up, did I not boast of you, and you, did you not +listen to my advice? Who was the foremost warrior and hunter among us? +Who spoke wisely and courteously?--You were always a true Tungus, +Seltichan; we all know that.--Was it the worst who were offered in +olden times? I swear to you, old man, and to all the tribes that I +spoke the truth. I said what a voice from heaven commanded me to say! +May my face be turned round to my back, and my body dried up like +tobacco leaves, may my eyes fall out, and my muscles grow weak like +badly dried yarn, and--may my hand burn, as the heart burns from +unkindness'--here with a rapid movement he put his hand into the +flame. + +They all sprang up, and Seltichan drew the old man away from the fire. + +'Oltungaba, forgive me, and all of you, forgive me,' he said with +emotion. 'It is a sin to suspect evil. I will go,--I had already +determined to do so. I am summoned, and I will go. If I stayed, you +would be forced to go,--so would it be worth while? There is always +one rotten egg in a nest.--Can a man be a man without reindeer? What +is a Tungus without other Tungus?--I leave you, but you will not +forget me!--Good-bye!--May your herds increase! May your children grow +to manhood! May joy not shun your tents! May there be no lack of food +in your cauldrons, of powder in your horns, and of goodness in your +hearts!--I go away, but my thoughts are gentle, as the rays of the +setting sun.--I am going now; I take leave of you, my people! +--Farewell!' + +With a quick movement he tore the figured 'dalys' on his chest, and +plunged a knife up to the hilt into his heart. + +He stood for a moment, his fading glance passing round them all,--then +staggered, and fell. + +A single great sigh burst from the crowd. + +Oltungaba hastily knelt down beside the dying man, uncovered his +breast, and placing his right hand near the wound, stretched his left +towards the sun, crying: + +'Oh, thou God ruling all things, help us,--shield us! We are not the +last, and not the lowest, if we can send forth hearts like these!' + +'Hearts like these!' groaned the crowd. + +All, even the stout Kniaz, felt at that moment as if their hearts beat +with the same readiness for sacrifice as that which was growing cold +under Oltungaba's hand. + +'He was a warrior,' whispered the shaman after a moment, and picking +up the 'dalys,' he threw it over the face, quivering in its death +agony. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[20] 'Kniaz': Russian 'Soltys' = village mayor. + + + +PRINTED AT + +THE HOLYWELL PRESS + +OXFORD + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +Uncommon spellings in original retained. + +Missing and incorrect punctuation fixed. + +Hyphenated and non-hyphenated of same words retained as in original. + + P. iii: "Orford" changed to "Oxford" + P. 8: pronunciation key ditto marks changed to "English" + P. 55: "months had passd" changed to "months had passed". + P. 81: "couse" changed to "course" + P. 172: "asserverated" changed to "asseverated" + P. 180: "Then let is be so" changed to "Then let it be so" + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + +***** This file should be named 35456.txt or 35456.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/5/35456/ + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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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