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diff --git a/75846-0.txt b/75846-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa7a1e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/75846-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11082 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75846 *** + + + + + + THE PEASANTS + AUTUMN + + + + + THE + PEASANTS + + A TALE OF + OUR OWN TIMES + + IN + FOUR VOLUMES + + AUTUMN + WINTER + SPRING[1] + SUMMER[2] + +----- + +Footnote 1: + + _To be published April, 1925_ + +Footnote 2: + + _To be published July, 1925_ + + + + + THE PEASANTS + + AUTUMN + + FROM THE POLISH OF + LADISLAS REYMONT + +[Illustration: Publisher’s Logo] + + ALFRED · A · KNOPF + NEW YORK MCMXXV + + + + + PUBLISHED, JANUARY, 1925, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. + + SECOND PRINTING, DECEMBER, 1924. + THIRD PRINTING, DECEMBER, 1924. + FOURTH PRINTING, DECEMBER, 1924. + FIFTH PRINTING, DECEMBER, 1924. + SIXTH PRINTING, FEBRUARY, 1925. + SEVENTH PRINTING, MAY, 1925. + + MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + PUBLISHER’S NOTE + + +_The Peasants_ has been translated from the original Polish by Michael +H. Dziewicki, Reader of English Literature at the University of Cracow. +I wish to make special acknowledgment to Dr. A. M. Nawench of Columbia +University for his invaluable assistance in seeing the work through the +press. + + A. A. K. + + + + + THE PEASANTS + AUTUMN + + + + + CHAPTER I + + +“Praised be Jesus Christ!” + +“World without end!—What, my good Agatha? And whither be you wandering +now?” + +“Out into the world, please your Reverence, into the wide world!” she +answered, with a wave of her staff from east to west. + +The priest mechanically turned his eyes in that direction, but closed +them to the blinding sun in the western sky. Then he said, in a lower +and somewhat hesitating tone: + +“Have the Klembas turned you out? Or is it only a little bickering +between you?” + +She drew herself up a little and, before answering, cast her eyes around +her upon the bare autumnal fields and the village roofs surrounded by +fruit-gardens. + +“No, they have not turned me out: how could they? They are good folk and +my close kin. And as for bickering, there was none. I myself saw that I +had better leave; that’s all. ‘Better to leap into the deep than cumber +another man’s wagon.’... So I had to go; there was no work for me. +Winter is coming, but what of that? Are they to give me food and a +corner to sleep in while I do nothing to earn it? Besides, they have +just weaned their calf, and the goslings must be sheltered under their +roof at night, for it is getting cold. I have to make room. Why, beasts +are God’s creatures, too.... But they are kind folk; they keep me in +summer-time at least, and do not begrudge me a corner of their house and +a morsel of their food.... And in winter I go out into the wide world, +asking alms.... I need but little, and that little good people give me. +With the help of the Lord Jesus, I shall pull through till spring, and +put something by into the bargain. Surely, the sweet, good Jesus will +not forsake His poor.” + +“No, that He will not,” the priest reassured her in earnest tones, +quietly pressing a small silver coin into her hand. + +“Thanks, thanks, and God bless your Reverence!” + +She bowed her shaking head as low as his knees, while big tears trickled +down her face, a face rugged and furrowed like newly-ploughed autumn +fields. + +The priest felt confused. + +“Go, and God speed you on your way,” he faltered, raising her up. + +With trembling hands she crossed herself, took hold of her wallet and +her sharp-pointed staff, and started off along the broad and deeply +rutted road toward the forest, turning now and again to glance at the +village, the fields where potatoes were then being dug, and the smoke +from many a herdsman’s fire, wafted low over the stubble. + +The priest, who had previously been seated upon a plough-wheel, now +returned to it, took a pinch of snuff, and opened his breviary; but his +eyes would stray now and then from the red print and glance over the +vast landscape slumbering in autumnal peace, or gaze into the pale blue +sky, or wander to his men leaning over the plough he was guiding. + +“Hey, Valek! That furrow is crooked!” he cried out, sitting up, with his +eyes following every step of two sturdy grey plough-horses. + +Once more he returned to his breviary, and his lips again moved, but his +eyes soon unconsciously wandered to the horses, or to a flock of crows +cautiously hopping, with outstretched beaks, in the newly-made furrow, +and taking wing when even the whip cracked or the horses wheeled round: +after which they would alight heavily in the wake of the plough, and +sharpen their beaks on the hard, sun-baked clods just turned up. + +“Valek, just flick the right-hand mare a bit; she is lagging behind.” + +He smiled to see her draw evenly after this correction and, when the +horses came to the roadside, jumped up to pat their necks—a caress to +which the animals responded by stretching their noses towards his face +and sniffing complacently. + +“Het—a—ah!” Valek then sang out. Pulling the silver bright share out of +the furrow, he deftly lifted up the plough, swung the horses round, and +thrust the shining steel into the earth again. At a crack of the whip, +the horses set tugging till the cross-bar creaked again; and on they +went, ploughing away at the great strip of land which, stretching out at +right angles to the road, descended the slope, and, not unlike the woof +of some coarse hempen stuff, ran down as far as the low-lying hamlet +nestling amongst the red and yellow leaves of its orchards. + +It was near the end of autumn, but the weather was still warm and rather +drowsy. The sun was still hot enough and, hanging in the south-west +above the woods, made the shrubs and the pear-trees, and even the hard, +dry clods, cast strong, cold shadows. + +Ineffable sweetness and serenity reigned in the air, full of a golden +haze of sunlit dust over the fields lately harvested; while above in the +azure heaven, enormous white clouds floated here and there like great +wind-tormented snow-drifts. + +Below, as far as the eye could see, lay the drab-hued fields, forming a +sort of huge basin with a dark-blue rim of forest, a basin across which, +like a silken skein glittering in the sunshine, a river coursed +sparkling and winding among the alders and willows on its banks. In the +midst of the hamlet, it spread out into a large oblong body of water, +and then ran northward through a rift in the hills. At the bottom of the +valley, skirting the lake, lay the village, with the sunlight playing on +the many autumnal hues of its fruit gardens. Thence, even up to the very +edge of the forest, ran the long bands of cultivated ground, stretches +of grey fields with thread-like pathways between them, whereon +pear-trees and blackthorns grew; the general ashen tint being in places +variegated by patches of gold-yellow lupines with fragrant flowers, or +by the dull silver of the dried-up bed of some torrent; or by quiet +sandy roads, with rows of tall poplars overshadowing them, reaching +upwards to the hills and woods. + +The priest was suddenly roused from the contemplation of this scene. A +long, mournful lowing was heard at no great distance, making the crows +take wing and fly away obliquely to the potato-diggings, their dark +fluttering shadows following them over the partly sown fields. Shading +his eyes with his hand, he gazed in the direction of the sun and the +forest, and beheld a little girl coming towards him and leading a large +red cow by a rope. As she approached, she said: “Praised be Jesus +Christ!” and would have gone out of her way to kiss the priest’s hand, +but the cow jerked her away and fell a-lowing anew. + +“Are you taking it to market?” the priest asked. + +“No, only to the steer at the miller’s.—Be still, you pest! Are you +possessed?” she cried, out of breath, and striving to master the animal, +which, however, dragged her along till both disappeared in a cloud of +dust. + +Presently there came along the sandy road, trudging heavily, a Jewish +ragpicker, who trundled a barrow so loaded down that he had to stop for +breath every now and then. + +“What news, Moshek?” cried the priest. + +“What news? Good news to those it may concern. Potatoes, God be praised! +are plentiful; there’s a good crop of rye, and cabbages will be +abundant. It’s all very well for such as have potatoes and rye and +cabbages.” He kissed the priest’s sleeve, adjusted the barrow-strap, and +went on more lightly, his way now leading down a gentle slope. In his +wake, along the middle of the road and in the haze of dust raised by his +dragging feet, came a blind beggar, led by a well-fed dog at the end of +a string. Then a lad carrying a bottle approached from the side of the +wood. The latter, catching sight of the holy man on the road, gave him a +wide berth and made for the village tavern by a short cut through the +fields. + +A peasant from the next hamlet, on his way to the mill, and a Jewess +driving a flock of geese, then also passed by. Each praised God; the +priest exchanged some kind words and friendly looks with them, and they +went on their way. + +By this time the sun was low. The priest got up and called to Valek: +“You will plough as far as the birches, then home. The poor beasts are +quite tired out.” + +Going along the path between the fields, he said his Office under his +breath, looking round from time to time at the scene with fond, +glistening eyes. Working-women gleamed in red rows at the +potato-diggings, and the contents of their baskets rumbled into the +carts. Here and there, the ground was still being ploughed for sowing. +On the fallows a herd of brindled cows was feeding. The ashen-grey hue +of certain lands was beginning to take on a ruddy tint from the blades +of corn already sprouting there. On the close-cropped, tawny grass of +the meadows, the geese showed up like white snowflakes. A cow was heard +lowing afar. Fires had been lit, and long blue clouds of smoke trailed +over the cornfields. Elsewhere harrows were at work, a dim cloud of dust +rising in the wake of each and settling down at the foot of the hills. +From beneath it, coming as it were out of a cloud, a bareheaded, +barefooted peasant, with a cloth full of corn tied round his waist, was +pacing leisurely, taking handfuls of grain and scattering them all over +the earth with a solemn gesture, as one bestowing a blessing. On +reaching the end of the ploughed fields, he would turn and slowly ascend +the slope, his shock of tousled hair first appearing above the sky-line, +then his shoulders, and finally his whole body, still with the same +solemn gesture, the sower’s benediction, that shed forth upon the soil, +a holy thing as it were—the golden seed which fell in a semicircle round +him. + +The priest’s pace became more and more leisurely: now he would stop to +take breath, now to look at his two grey horses, now to glance at a few +boys who were throwing stones into a large pear-tree. They came running +to him in a body, and, holding their hands behind them, all kissed the +sleeve of his soutane. + +He stroked their flaxen heads, but added a word of warning: “Have a care +not to break the branches, or you will get no pears at all next year.” + +“We were not throwing stones at the pears,” answered one boy, bolder +than the rest; “there’s a chough’s nest up in the tree.” + +The priest passed on with a friendly smile and was presently among the +potato-diggers. + +“God speed your work!” + +“May God reward you!” they replied in a chorus, and all came up to kiss +their beloved pastor’s hands. + +“Our Lord has given us plenty of potatoes this year, I think,” he said, +offering his open snuff-box to the men, who respectfully accepted; +refraining, however, from taking snuff in his presence. + +“Aye, potatoes are as big as a cat’s head, and plenty to each plant.” + +“Ah, then pigs will rise in price; you will all want to have some to +fatten.” + +“They are dear enough as it is. There was a swine plague last summer, +and we have to buy them even in Prussia.” + +“So there was, so there was. And whose potatoes are you digging here?” + +“Why Boryna’s, of course.” + +“I don’t see him with you, so I wasn’t sure.” + +“Father is only at the forest with my goodman.” + +“Oh, there you are, Hanka? How goes it?” he said, turning to a handsome +young woman who wore a red kerchief round her head. She came forward, +and, her hands being soiled, threw her apron over them as she took the +priest’s hand to kiss. + +“Well, and how is your little boy whom I christened in harvest time?” + +“God bless your Reverence, he is well and lively.” + +“The Lord be with you all!” + +“And with your Reverence!” + +He walked away to the right, where the burying-ground, near a road +planted with poplars, lay on that side of the village. They gazed after +him in silence for some time, and it was only when his thin and slightly +bent figure had passed the low stone enclosure and entered the mortuary +chapel, overshadowed with the yellowish and reddish foliage of birches +and maples, that they found their tongues again. + +“There is no better man in the whole world,” said one of the women. + +“Yes, indeed,” chimed in Hanka, emptying her basketful on to a yellow +heap conspicuous on the freshly furrowed soil and dry stalks. “They +would have taken him away from us to town, but father went with the +Voyt[3] to entreat the Bishop, and so they did not get him. But dig +away, you, dig away: the day and the field are both drawing to a close.” + +----- + +Footnote 3: + + _Voyt_—the headman of the community.—_Translator’s Note._ + +They set again to work in silence. Only the crunching sound of the hoes +in the hard ground, with now and then the sharp clink of steel upon +stone, was to be heard. + +Less than a score of workers were there, most of them old women and +farm-labourers. At some distance were fixed two couples of crossed poles +from which, swathed in cloths, a couple of babies were swinging as in +hammocks, and wailing now and then. + +“Well, and so the old woman has gone off a-wandering,” Yagustynka said +after some time. + +“The old woman? Who?” asked Anna, straightening herself. + +“Why, old Agatha.” + +“What, a-begging?” + +“Of course a-begging! No, not for the pleasure of the thing. She has +been working hard for her kinsfolk, serving them all summer long; and +now they let her go—to get some fresh air! Next spring she will return, +with baskets full of sugar and tea, and some money, besides. Oh, they +will be fond enough of her then, and cover her up snugly in bed, and +tell her that she must not work, but just rest up. Oh, yes! and they +will call her ‘Aunt,’ till they have got the last bit of money out of +her. But when autumn comes round again, there will again be no room for +her—not even in the passageway, not even in the pigsty. Oh, those +blood-sucking kinsfolk! Those inhuman beasts!” + +Yagustynka put such passion into her outburst that her face turned livid +as she spoke. + +An old farm-labourer—a wry-faced worn-out man—remarked: “Here you see +how true is the saying: ‘The wind is always blowing in the face of the +poor.’” + +“Now, good people, please dig away,” interrupted Hanka hastily; she did +not like the turn the conversation was taking. But Yagustynka, who could +not hold her tongue, soon looked up and said: + +“Those Pacheses,—they are getting on in years; the hair is thin upon +their heads.” + +“And yet,” another woman put in, “they still remain unmarried men.” + +“And there are so many girls growing old here, too, or forced to take +service elsewhere!” + +“Yet, they have a score of acres and more, besides a meadow beyond the +mill.” + +“Aye, but will their mothers let them marry, do you think, or let them +have anything if they do?” + +“Yes, who would then milk the cows, or do the washing, or tend to the +farm and the pigs?” + +“They have to keep house for their mother and for Yagna. Else how could +Yagna be the grand lady that she is? Quite a gentlewoman, always +dressing up, and washing herself, and peering into her glass, and for +ever braiding her hair!” + +“And looking for someone to share her bed—any able-bodied young man will +do,” added Yagustynka with a malicious sneer. + +“Joseph Bandech sent ‘proposers’[4] to her with a gift of vodka, but she +would not have him.” + +----- + +Footnote 4: + + Two men go to the girl’s family, offering vodka in the young + man’s name; if the girl drinks to him, she is regarded as + affianced.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“A plague on her, the pampered minx!” + +“And the old dame, too: always in church, and praying out of her +prayer-book, and going wherever there’s an indulgence!”[5] + +----- + +Footnote 5: + + An annual local festival held in every parish, where those who come to + church may gain an indulgence.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“She’s a witch, all the same. Who was it that made Vavrek’s cows dry up, +pray? And, ah! when Yashek’s little boy stole plums from her orchard, +and she muttered evil words against him, did he not get the _koltun_[6] +at once, and shrivel up with crooked limbs?” + +----- + +Footnote 6: + + _Koltun_—a diseased, matted condition of the hair.—_Translator’s + Note._ + +“Oh, how can God’s blessings descend upon a place where such creatures +dwell?” + +“In former days,” Yagustynka observed, “when I was still tending +father’s cattle, they used to drive such people out of our midst.... +Aye, and it does them no harm, for they are not without protectors.” +Then, lowering her voice, and casting a side-glance at Hanka then busily +digging in the foremost row, Yagustynka whispered to her neighbours: +“The first to defend her would be Hanka’s goodman; he follows Yagna +everywhere like a dog.” + +“For God’s sake! Pray, hold your tongue. What awful things you are +telling us! Why, that’s an offence against God, a sin!” the gossips +whispered to her, as they went on digging with bowed shoulders. + +“Is he, then, the only one? Why, all the lads are after her, like cats +after their kind.” + +“Indeed, she is good-looking: plump as a well-fed heifer, with a face as +white as cream, and eyes even as the flax-flower. Strong, besides; many +a man no stronger.” + +“For what does she do but eat and sleep? No wonder she is comely.” + +A long silence ensued while they emptied their baskets on to the heap. +Afterwards the talk ran on other subjects, till Yuzka, Boryna’s +daughter, was seen coming at a run across the cornfields, from the +village, and they stopped. She came, panting and all out of breath, +shouting from a distance: + +“Hanka, come home: there’s something wrong with the cow!” + +“Mercy on us! which cow?” + +“White-and-Red.” + +Hanka heaved a sigh of relief. “Good God! how you frightened me! I +thought it was mine.” + +“Vitek brought her in but now; the keeper had driven them out of the +wood. She ran too fast—she is so very fat,—and fell just outside the +byre. She neither eats nor drinks; only rolls about and bellows. Mercy +on us!” + +“Is father home yet?” + +“No, he is not. Oh, good Lord! Such a cow, too! She gave more than a +gallon at each milking. Oh, do come, quick!” + +“Yes, yes, quick as thought—instantly!” + +She at once took her child out of the cloth in which it hung +hammock-like, and came away so alarmed at the news that she forgot to +let down the apron with which she had tucked her dress up to the knees +for work. And, as she followed Yuzka, her white legs twinkled across the +fields. + +The potato-diggers, working with their hoes between their feet, went on +more slowly, having no one to hurry or to chide them any more. + +The sun, now quite in the West, glowing red as if heated by its rapid +course, hung like a huge crimson globe above the high, black woods. +Twilight was deepening and spreading over the landscape; filling +furrows, hiding in ditches, gathering under thickets, and slowly pouring +over the land; deadening, blotting out and wiping away all colours, +until the tree-tops and the church-roof and steeple alone glowed with +gorgeous hues. Many labourers were already plodding homewards. + +Shouts and neighings, and bellowings and the rattling of carts, growing +ever louder and louder, filled the quiet evening air. But presently a +tinkling from the belfry announced the Angelus; and at the bell’s +sonorous vibrations, these noises were all hushed, and only whispered +prayers, like the faint sound of falling leaves, were audible. + +And now the cattle, driven home with merry cries and songs in a confused +multitude, came along the roads stirring up such a volume of dust that +only now and then were their mighty, thickly-horned heads seen to emerge +from it. + +Sheep, too, bleated here and there, and flocks of geese, flying off the +pasture lands, were lost in the Western glow, so that only their shrill, +creaking cries betrayed the fact that they were on the wing. + +“A pity that White-and-Red was with calf.” + +“It is a good thing that Boryna is not poor.” + +“A pity, all the same, to lose so fine an animal.” + +“Boryna has no wife, everything he has goes as through a sieve.” + +“Because Hanka is no sort of housekeeper, you know.” + +“Oh, but she is—for herself. They lodge with her father as if they were +farm-labourers; each of them is on the look-out for what can be got out +of him. As to Boryna’s property, let the dog watch over it!” + +“Yuzka is a child, and knows nothing. What can she do?” + +“Well, Boryna might as well give up his land to Antek, might he not?” + +“Yes, indeed, and live on the portion they will allow him?” Yagustynka +returned hotly. “You are old, Vavrek, but a great fool for all that. Ho, +ho! Boryna is still hale: he may marry again. If he gave all he had to +his children, he would be an ass.” + +“Hale he is, but over sixty.” + +“Never fear, Vavrek; any girl would have him, if he only asked her.” + +“He has buried two wives already.” + +“May he bury a third, then, and, God help him! Never while he lives let +him give his children the least bit of ground;—no, not so much as a foot +of it. The carrion! They would give him a fine portion, they would! +Force him to work on the farm, or starve, or go far off to beg! Yes, +turn over what you have to your children; they will give you just +enough, to buy a rope to hang yourself or to tie a stone round your neck +with!” + +“Well, it’s getting dark; time to go home.” + +“Yes, it is time; the sun is going down.” + +So they quickly shouldered their hoes and, taking their baskets and +dinner pails in hand, went off in single file along the path, old +Yagustynka always passionately holding forth against her own and +everybody else’s children. + +A girl was going home in the same direction, but by another path, +driving a sow with its little ones and singing in a shrill voice: + + “Oh, go not near the wagon, + Nor with its axle play, + Nor let a young man kiss thee, + Whatever he may say!” + +“Listen to that idiot howling as if she was being skinned alive!” + + + + + CHAPTER II + + +A good many people had gathered by this time in Boryna’s yard, which, +surrounded on three sides by farm buildings, was separated from the road +by an orchard on the fourth. Several women were offering advice and +eyeing with amazement the very large red-and-white cow that lay +wallowing on a heap of manure just before the byre. + +An old dog, somewhat lame and with hairless patches along its sides, was +now sniffing at her and barking, now running to the fence and driving +back into the road such boys and girls as had climbed up and were gazing +curiously into the yard, and now approaching a sow that lay near the +hut, suckling four white little pigs and gently grunting. + +Hanka ran straight to the cow on arriving, and at once began to stroke +her face and head. + +“Poor, poor dear Red-and-White!” she cried, with copious tears and many +lamentations. + +From time to time the women would recommend her a new remedy for the +sick animal. Now they would pour brine down its throat, now milk into +which wax from a consecrated taper had been dropped. One advised soap +dissolved in whey, and another suggested bleeding. But the cow did not +benefit from any of these nostrums. At times she would lift up her head, +and, as though imploring for help, low till her beautiful large eyes, +with pink-tinged whites, grew dim and misty. Then, quite exhausted with +pain, she would bow her horned head and put forth her tongue to lick +Hanka’s hand. + +“May not Ambrose be able to do something?” was one woman’s suggestions. + +“Yes, yes, he knows a good deal about sicknesses.” + +“Run to him, Yuzka. He has just rung the Angelus, so is likely to be +somewhere about the church. Good God! when Father comes home, how +furious he will be! And yet,” Hanka sobbed, “’tis no fault of ours!” + +She then sat down on the threshold of the cow-house and bared her full +white bosom to the babe that was wailing for food, meanwhile watching +the suffering animal with keen apprehension and, expecting Boryna’s +arrival, casting uneasy glances past the fence. + +In a few minutes Yuzka returned, announcing the arrival of Ambrose, who +came almost as soon himself. He was close to a hundred years old, +one-legged, and walked with the aid of a staff, but still as straight as +an arrow. His face, dry and wrinkled as a potato in spring, was +clean-shaven, but scarred; his hair as white as milk, with long wisps +falling on his forehead and hanging down to his shoulders. He went +straight to the cow and looked her over very carefully. + +“Oho!” he said, “you will have fresh meat presently, I see.” + +“Oh, but pray do something to make her well!” cried Jozia. “A cow worth +over three hundred _zloty_[7] ... and just now with calf, besides! Do +help us! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” + +----- + +Footnote 7: + + _Zloty._ A Polish coin, formerly worth about seven cents. + +Ambrose produced a lancet, whetted it on his boot, looked at the edge +against the sky, and then cut a blood-vessel in Red-and-White’s belly. +But no spurt of blood followed; only a few drops, black and +foam-flecked, oozed out slowly. + +All were standing about, their necks craned forward, breathless with +attention. + +“Too late!” he said mournfully. “Yes, the poor thing is near its last +gasp. It must be cattle plague or something of the sort. You should have +sent for me as soon as there was anything the matter. Those women! +Peevish things they are, fit only to weep! When anything’s to be done, +they only fall a-bleating. A lot of ewes!” + +He spat contemptuously, looked once more at the cow’s eyes and tongue, +wiped his gory hands on her sleek hide, and prepared to go. + +“I shall not ring for her funeral; your pots will clink instead.” + +“Here come Father and Antek!” exclaimed Yuzka, hastening to meet them as +a rumbling sound came from the farther end of the pond and a long cart +and horses appeared, looming dark against the red glow of dust blazing +in the light of the setting sun. + +“Father, Father! Red-and-White is dying!” she called out. He was just +turning the pond. Antek had got down behind; the pine they had on the +cart was a long one, and had to be held up. + +“Don’t waste your breath talking nonsense,” he growled in reply, lashing +the horses. + +“Ambrose has bled it—in vain. Melted wax down her throat—in vain, too. +Salt—no use.... ’Tis the cattle-plague, no doubt. Vitek says the +forester drove them out of the grove, and all at once Red-and-White lay +down and started to moan; and so he brought her back here.” + +“Red-and-White, our best cow! You foul beasts! The devil take you for +the care you took of her!” + +He threw the reins to his son and ran forward, whip in hand. + +The women drew away. Vitek, who had all the time been very calmly doing +things about the house, ran off, faint with fear, into the garden. Even +Hanka stood up on the threshold, bewildered and dismayed. + +Old Boryna looked long at the cow and then cried out: + +“Yes, she is gone, and because of them! The filthy sluts! Always ready +to eat, but to watch—never! Such a splendid animal! One cannot stir from +the house, but that some harm and evil must come of it.” + +Hanka murmured in excuse: “But I have been out potato-digging all +afternoon.” + +He turned on her in a rage. “You! Do you ever see anything that goes +wrong? Do you care one pin for the things that are mine? Such a cow as +’twould be hard to find—aye, even at a manor farm!” + +He went on lamenting for some time, examined the cow, tried to make her +stand up, and looked into her mouth. She was breathing heavily, with a +rattle in her throat. Her blood had quite ceased to flow and formed +hard, black clots like cinders. + +“What’s to be done? She must be killed: I’ll save at least as much as +that will bring us.” + +Thus making up his mind, he went into the barn for a scythe. After +sharpening it with a few turns of a grindstone that stood under the +eaves of the cow-house, he pulled off his coat, tucked up his +shirt-sleeves, and set about his grim task. + +Hanka and Yuzka began to weep as Red-and-White, as though feeling death +close at hand, raised her heavy head and, moaning faintly, fell flat, +with her throat cut. Her legs jerked convulsively once or twice. + +The dog lapped the blood, which was already beginning to clot. + +Antek, who had just arrived, angrily addressed his weeping wife: + +“What have you to weep over, foolish one? Father’s cow is father’s loss, +not ours!” + +And he set to unharnessing the horses, which Vitek took to the stable. + +“Is the potato crop good?” Boryna inquired as he was washing his hands +by the well. + +“Why shouldn’t it be good? Twenty sacks or thereabouts,” was the reply. + +“They must be brought in this very day.” + +“Bring them in yourself, then,” said Antek. “I am dead tired and ready +to drop. The off-horse, too, is lame in one foreleg.” + +“Yuzka, go and tell Kuba to stop digging. Let him put the young mare to +instead of the off-horse, and bring the potatoes home to-day. It may +rain.” + +Boryna was boiling over with anger and mortification. Every now and then +he went to gaze at the slaughtered cow and swore outrageously. Then he +strode across the yard, looked into the byre, the barn, and all the +sheds, being so confused by his loss that he did not know what he was +doing. + +“Vitek! Vitek!” he roared at length, unfastening the broad leather +girdle round his waist. But Vitek did not answer his call. + +All the neighbours had disappeared, feeling that such sorrow for so +great a loss was likely to end in blows, and Boryna was at no time +indisposed for a fight. To-day, however, he did nothing but curse and +swear. + +Going toward the hut, he cried through the open window: “Hanka, give me +something to eat!” and passed in to his own quarters. + +The hut was the usual peasants’ cabin, divided into two parts by a very +wide passageway. The back looked out upon the yard; the four front +windows, upon the orchard and the road. Boryna and his daughter, Yuzka, +occupied the side next the garden; Antek and his family lived on the +other side; while the herdsman and the labourer slept in the stable. + +The room was now getting dark, for but little light could filter through +its tiny windows, the eaves that overshadowed them, and the trees of the +orchard beyond. Only the sheen of the glass that covered the holy images +hanging in dark rows from the whitewashed walls, could be seen. The +room, though large, looked smaller on account of the low ceiling, with +the great beams supporting it, and the amount of furniture which filled +the whole place, leaving only a little free space about the big +penthouse fire-place that stood close to the passage wall. + +Boryna took off his boots there, then entered a dim alcove, and closed +the door behind him. He removed a shutter from a small pane of glass, +and the sundown at once flooded the closet with blood-red light. + +It was a small lumber-room, crowded with household articles. Poles were +fixed across it, from which hung many a striped cloth and _sukmana_;[8] +there were piles of grey spinning-yarn, and fleeces rolled into dingy +bales, and sacks of feathers. He took a white _sukmana_ and a scarlet +girdle, and then for a long time fumbled in certain tubs full of grain; +also in a corner, underneath a heap of odds and ends—leather and iron +fumbled together. But, hearing Hanka in the next room, he quickly +replaced the shutter, and again started groping in the tubs of corn. + +----- + +Footnote 8: + + _Sukmana_—a long coat worn by Polish peasants.—_Translator’s Note._ + +His supper, an enormous pot of cabbage stewed with fat bacon, was now +smoking on a bench just beneath the window. The odour of that mingled in +the air with the smell of scrambled eggs in a big dish close by. + +“Where did Vitek take the cattle this morning?” he asked, cutting off a +mighty piece from a loaf of bread as large as the largest sieve. + +“To the manor copse; and the forester drove them out.” + +“The carrion! It is they who have killed Red-and-White!” + +“Yes, she was so tired and overheated with running that something inside +her got inflamed.” + +“Those beggarly dogs! We have a right to graze our cattle there. It is +down in black and white, in letters as large as an ox: yet they always +drive us away, and say we have no right there.” + +“They have done the same to others, too. They have beaten up Valek’s +boy, too, most sorely.” + +“Ah! I shall go to court, or else to the Commissioner. She was worth +three hundred _zloty_, if she was worth a _grosz_!” + +“Surely, surely,” assented Hanka, greatly relieved to see her father +less angry with her. + +“Tell Antek that as soon as they have brought the potatoes in, they must +see to the cow—skin her and cut her up. I shall lend a hand when I get +home from the Voyt’s. Hang the quarters from the rafters, out of the +reach of dogs and vermin.” + +Having finished his meal, he got up to dress for the visit, but felt so +heavy and drowsy that he flung himself on the bed, just as he was, for +just forty winks of sleep. + +Hanka cleared the things away, going to the window every now and then to +peep at Antek, who was taking his supper under the porch in front of the +house. He sat at a civil distance from the platter, taking spoonful +after spoonful with a hard but leisurely scrape against the sides of the +vessel. At times he would cast a glance over the pond, whose waters +gleamed with moving circles of purple and gold, iridescent in the +sunset. Amongst these, like white clouds round a rainbow, swam a flock +of geese, gabbling and spurting streams of blood-red jewels from their +beaks. + +The village was seething with life and crowds of people. On the road at +either side of the pond, the dust flew and carts rattled; and lowing +cattle stood knee-deep in the pond, drinking at leisure and lifting +their ponderous heads, while from their jaws streams of water trickled +down like strings of opals. Meanwhile, on the farther side, washerwomen +were at work, and the bats they wielded clattered loudly on the linen +they were beating. + +“Antek, please split the firewood for me; I cannot manage it by myself,” +said his wife timorously, for the man thought nothing of treating her to +an oath—nay, even to a blow—on the slightest pretext. + +He did not so much as reply, feigning not to have heard her. She dared +not repeat her request, but went to hack off such splinters of firewood +as she could, while he, moody and spent with a long day’s hard work, sat +looking over to the other side of the pond, where a large cottage shone +with whitewashed walls and window-panes that reflected the sunset glow. +A low stone fence, over which some clusters of dahlias nodded their +heads, standing out vividly on the white background of cottage wall, ran +round the garden; and in front of the house a tall figure was seen to +pass from beneath the orchard trees, disappearing in the passage before +it could be recognized. + +From the porch where he sat, Antek heard his father’s snores and growled +fiercely. “The Master sleeps; and _you_, toil on, labourer, toil on!” + +He went out into the yard and eyed the cow again. + +“She was father’s cow, but it is also a loss for us,” he remarked to his +wife, who had left off hacking wood and gone to the cart which Kuba had +now driven home. + +“The pits are not yet ready for the potatoes; we must dump them upon the +threshing-floor.” + +“But father said you were to flay the cow and quarter it on the +threshing-floor, with Kuba to help you.” + +“There will be room enough for both cow and potatoes,” muttered Kuba, +throwing the barn door wide open. + +“I,” said Antek, “am no slaughter-house workman, that I should flay +carcasses!” + +No more was said; the potatoes rattled noisily on the barn-floor. + +The sun was down, but the dark blood and dead gold of the after-glow +were still mistily reflected in the pond; and the quiet waters just +trembled, shimmering ruddily with a drowsy murmur. + +Presently the village was lost in shadows and plunged in the deep +stillness of an autumnal night. The huts seemed smaller, as though sunk +into the ground or melted into the trees that hung dreamily above them, +or made one with the grey fences surrounding them. Antek and Kuba were +carrying the potatoes. Hanka and Yuzka, busy with their household +duties, were driving the geese home or feeding the swine that came +grunting for food into the passage. Then the cows wanted milking. Vitek +had just come home with them from the pasture-lands, and had put a +little hay on the racks before them, that they might remain quiet while +being milked. + +Yuzka had just begun with the first cow, when Vitek asked her in a low +trembling voice: “Yuzka, is master very angry?” + +“Oh, Lord! that he is! He means to give you a thrashing!” she answered, +turning her face to the light and putting out her hand, for the cow, +tormented by flies, was whisking her tail, which struck the girl. + +“But was it my fault if the forester drove us out? He would have given +me a beating, too, but I got away. And she lay down and lowed and +moaned, so I came back with her.” + +He said no more, but she heard him sniffling and weeping quietly. + +“Vitek! you are crying like a calf. Don’t! Is it the first time father +has thrashed you?” + +“No, indeed, but I can’t bear being thrashed; I am always afraid.” + +“How silly! A great husky fellow, and afraid? But I’ll explain it all to +Father.” + +“Will you really, Yuzka?” he exclaimed joyfully. + +“I will, Vitek; only fear no more!” + +“If you will,—then here’s a bird for you,” he whispered, much pleased, +and took a marvellous toy out of his bosom. “Just look how it moves, all +by itself!” + +He placed it on the threshold and wound it up. The bird, lifting up its +long legs and shaking its head, began to walk. + +“Oh Lord! it’s a stork! and it moves as if alive!” she cried out in +wonder and, setting her milk pail aside, crouched down and gazed on in +rapture. + +“Oh, how clever you are to have made it! and it moves by itself, does +it?” + +“By itself, Yuzka; only I wind it up with this wooden peg. And see! it +is strutting about like a gentleman after dinner!” He turned it about. +The bird, lifting up its long legs, with comical gravity, strutted on, +moving its neck back and forth. + +They both started to laugh, heartily amused by these movements; and from +time to time Yuzka glanced admiringly at the boy. + +Suddenly Boryna raised his voice, calling to Yuzka from outside the +cabin. + +“Here I am,” she answered. + +“Come to me.” + +“I can’t; I’m milking.” + +“Well,” he said, “I am off to the Voyt,” and added, peeping into the +dark shed: “That, that there bastard, isn’t he here?” + +“Oh, Vitek do you mean? He is gone with Antek,” she replied hastily and +with uneasiness, for Vitek, terrified, had come to crouch behind her. + +“He has run off!... A rank beast he is ... to let such a cow be lost!” +he snarled, returning to the hut to put on his new white _sukmana_, and +a high-crowned black hat. Then, buckling on a scarlet girdle, he set off +in the direction of the mill. + +“So much work still to do!” he said to himself as he walked on; “all the +winter’s firewood to be brought in, some fields not yet sown, and the +cabbages still out of doors! The potato-fields, too, must be ploughed; +and so must the oat-fields. My God! a man’s work is never done; he is +like an ox under the yoke. And that law business, besides!... A bad one +she is, truly: I slept with her indeed!... May her tongue rot away, the +vile creature!” He spat venomously, filled his pipe, and with some +difficulty kindled a damp match by striking it on his trouser-leg. + +Then he jogged along slowly, still brooding over his troubles and the +death of the cow. + +Now he was as lonely as a signpost. There was no one he could complain +or tell things to.... He had to think of everything, and make up his +mind, and care for everything all by himself—a dog’s life!... Never +could he speak to anyone, nor get any advice or assistance ... and the +result was, loss upon loss! + +The hamlet was now getting dark. Through the wide-open doors and windows +(for the evening was warm) there came from the glowing hearths streaks +of light, and the odour of cooked potatoes, and porridge with driblets +of fried bacon. Many were supping in the passages, or even outside the +cabins, and talking merrily to the clatter of spoons. + +Boryna’s pace slackened; he was exhausted with the excitement he had +gone through, and the thought of the wife he had buried that spring +recurred to him and made him gulp down a sob. + +“Oh, no! if _she_—how well I recollect her to-night!—if she had been +here, Red-and-White would still be alive. Yes, she was a housewife, +indeed, a rare housewife. It’s true, she had a sharp tongue, and never a +good word for anyone: but she was a good wife and manager, for all +that.” And then he breathed a prayer for her soul, very sore at heart in +the remembrance of times gone by. + +When he used to come home, all tired and weary, she would give him the +best of everything; and time and again would she hand him, on the sly, +savoury bits of sausage that she had secreted for him from the children. +And, somehow, they throve very well then. Calves and goslings and +suckling pigs multiplied; on fair days, there was always plenty to take +to town; always cash at hand, and money put by for a rainy day. + +And now? + +Antek was continually pulling his own way, as was his son-in-law, the +blacksmith—always trying to get something out of him. Yuzka?—A frail +child, with bran instead of brains in her head; and no wonder, for she +was still under ten. And Hanka? She fluttered about like a moth, was for +ever ailing, and did nothing but whine like a dog. + +So everything was going to rack and ruin. Red-and-White had to be killed +that day, a pig died at harvest-time; while the crows had carried off so +many goslings that but half of them remained. Such losses! Such +disasters! All he had was being frittered away, running out like water +through a sieve! + +“But I won’t give in!” he almost cried aloud: “as long as I can move +these limbs of mine, not one acre shall be given up to anyone!” + +“Praised be Jesus Christ!” someone greeted him as he passed. + +“World without end!” was his instinctive reply as he turned off from the +road into a long-fenced lane at the end of which, some distance back +from the highway, stood the Voyt’s cottage. + +The windows shone brightly. The dogs started to bark, as Boryna walked +straight into the best room. + +“Is the Voyt at home?” he asked of a stout woman kneeling close to a +cradle and suckling a baby. + +“No, but he will be presently. Sit down, Matthias; there’s someone else +waiting for him, besides.” And the woman threw her chin forward in the +direction of a beggar sitting by the fire—the blind old man we have met +before, led by a dog. The chips that were burning on the hearth threw a +hard reddish light on his large shaven face, his bald crown, and his +wide-open eyes, drawn over with a white film and motionless under grey +brows. + +“Whence has the Lord led you hither?” asked Boryna, seating himself on +the opposite side of the fire. + +“From up and down the world, good man; and how were it otherwise with +me?” was the answer given in a drawling, plaintive voice, while its +owner, who listened attentively to each sound, pulled out a snuff-box. + +“Pray take a pinch, good man.” + +Matthias complied, and such a large pinch did he take that he sneezed +three times and the water came to his eyes. + +“Awfully strong stuff,” he said, and wiped the tears away with his +elbow. + +“Petersburg snuff, very good for the eyes. May it be so—for yours!” + +“Come round to my cabin to-morrow, will you? I have killed a cow.” + +“God reward you. Boryna, I believe?” + +“Ah! you are good at guessing.” + +“Knew you by your voice and speech.” + +“Well, coming from up and down the world, what news have you?” + +“Ah! what indeed? Some news is good, some bad, and some indifferent. The +way of the world. They all complain and lament when it comes to giving a +beggar something; and yet they have always money enough for vodka.” + +“You speak truly; it is just as you say.” + +“Ho, ho! I have been a wayfarer on this God’s earth long enough to know +a thing or two.” + +“What,” the Voyt’s wife then asked of him, “what has become of the +foundling who came with you last year?” + +“Ah! the vile creature! he ran away, filching a pretty good sum out of +my wallet. Some good people had given me a little money, and I was +taking it to Our Lady of Czestochowa to have mass said, when the wretch +stole it and made off.... Be quiet, Burek! It’s the Voyt, I imagine.” +And at a pull on the string that held it, the dog ceased barking. + +He was right. The Voyt came in and, standing on the threshold, threw his +whip into a corner and shouted: + +“Wife! Supper! I’m starved. How are you, Matthias? And you, old man, +what do you need?” + +“I have come to ask about the affair I am to appear in to-morrow.” + +“I can wait your pleasure, sir. Put me in the passage; it shall be well +with me; or if, because I am old, you set me by the fire, there I shall +sit. Give me to eat of your potatoes or a morsel of bread, and I shall +pray for you just as much as if you gave me a kopek or more.” + +“Sit down. You may sup here and spend the night, too, if you will.” + +And the Voyt sat down to a steaming dish of newly-mashed potatoes, made +savoury with abundant driblets of fried bacon; a platter of sour milk +standing close by. + +“Take a seat, Matthias, and share what we have,” said the Voyt’s wife +cordially as she laid a third spoon on the table. + +“No, thanks. When I got home from the forest I ate a generous supper.” + +“Take a spoonful at least; the evenings are getting long.” + + “‘Plenty of prayers, plenty of food, + Never does harm, always does good,’” + +the beggar put in sententiously. + +Boryna stood upon ceremony for a time, but at last the smell of the +bacon in his nostrils got the better of him. So he sat down and began to +eat, but slowly, daintily, and with great decorum. + +The blind man’s dog now began to move about uneasily and to whine +impatiently for food. + +“Be quiet, Burek! The farmer folk are at supper now. You will get your +share, don’t fear.” So spoke the blind man soothingly as he was warming +his hands at the fire and inhaling the savoury odour. + +When the first pangs of hunger had been appeased, the Voyt, turning to +Matthias, said: “Eva has, it appears, lodged a complaint against you.” + +“She! Oh, well, I declare! Not paid her, indeed? As there is a God, I +have—aye, and beyond what she deserved. Yes, and when she had that baby +I willingly sent the priest a sack of oats for her at the christening!” + +“But she says it was you who——” + +“Oh, but that’s preposterous! What, is she mad? Is she crazy?” + +“Oho! Old as you are, you are still an able craftsman!” And the Voyt and +his wife burst out laughing. + +“To be old,” put in the blind man, “is to know; to know is to be able.” + +“But she lies like a gipsy! I never touched her, the wench! She was +homeless; an outcast who begged and prayed us to take her in—just for +the food and a corner to sleep in, because winter was near. I was loath +to do it, but my wife that’s dead thought we had better. She could do +things in the house. Why should we hire a servant when one was ready at +hand? I did not like this—another mouth to feed, and in winter, too, +when there’s always less to be done. But my wife said: ‘Don’t worry; she +knows how to weave cloth and canvas. I’ll see to it that she is not +idle, and there will always be some work or other for her.’ Well, she +stayed on with us and got strong; and presently she was with child. But +the question is, who was the man?” + +“You, according to her.” + +“I’ll kill her for saying so! The miserable liar!” + +“Anyway, you will have to appear in court.” + +“I shall. God reward you for telling me this. I thought it was about her +wages: but I have witnesses to prove that I have paid her. A plague on +her! A scold, and a beggar into the bargain!—Dear me! one trouble after +another! I shall never be able to stand all this. And the cow I have had +to kill! And the field-work not yet done! And here I am, all alone, with +no one in the world to lend a hand!” + +“‘Who for a wife that’s gone must weep is like a wolf-encompassed +sheep,’” the old man observed. + +“I heard about the cow; they told me in the village.” + +“As to that, I have a claim against the manor. The forester, I +understand, drove the cows away. She was the best of all I have—worth +three hundred _zloty_—was with calf—ran so fast and got so blown that I +had to kill her. No, I shall not let that pass: I’ll bring suit.” + +The Voyt, however, who was friendly to the manor, strove to calm Boryna: +anger was always a bad counsellor, and he should beware of doing +anything rash. Then, to change the subject, he said with a wink at his +wife: + +“Man, you ought to marry, so as to get someone who would take care of +the house.” + +“I say, is this a joke? Why, last Assumption Day I rounded my +fifty-eighth year. What are you dreaming of? And she, too, scarcely cold +in her grave yet!” + +“You just take a wife, one fit for your age, and all will be well with +you again, Matthias,” said the Voyt’s wife, preparing to clear the +table. + +“‘For, sure, a good and kindly wife is the crown of her husband’s +life,’” added the blind man, groping for the dish which the woman had +set before him. + +Boryna sat wondering why the thought had not occurred to him before. +Certainly some woman or other was to be found, and any one would be +better than none. + +“Some,” continued the old man as he ate, “are silly and speechless, some +are quarrelsome, some pull the lads’ hair, and others are always dancing +or running after music in taverns; but, anyhow, a man is better off with +one than without.” + +“But what would people think of it?” objected Boryna. + +“Think? Will they give you back your cow or help you in anything, +whatever they think?” the Voyt’s wife retorted with much heat. + +“Or warm your bed for you?” said the Voyt with a laugh. “There are so +many lasses here that, when a man goes about the huts, he is as hot as +coal in a fire.” + +“Ah! the reprobate! look at him! Whom is he hankering after now?” + +“Sophie, Gregory’s daughter, might do; a slim handsome girl and a good +dowry, too.” + +“What does Matthias, the richest farmer here, want with a dowry?” + +“‘Of goods and lands and such, who ever has too much?’” queried the +blind man. + +“No,” the Voyt decided, “Gregory’s girl is not for him—too young, too +immature.” + +“Then Andrew’s daughter, Catharine,” was the next proposal made by the +Voyt’s wife. + +“Already taken. Roch’s son, Adam, sent proposers to her yesterday.” + +“Well, there is Veronka, Stach’s daughter.” + +“A babbler, a gadabout, and with one hip deformed.” + +“But what about Thomas’s widow? She would do very well, I fancy.” + +“Three children, four acres, two heads of cattle, and an old sheepskin +that poor Tom left her.” + +“Perhaps Ulisia, Adalbert’s daughter, who lives by the church?” + +“She might do for a single young man. The boy she has is now big enough +to tend cattle. But Matthias has his own cowherd, and needs none.” + +“There are others yet to be married; only I seek someone suitable.” + +“But, wife, you have overlooked one who would be just the girl for him.” + +“Who is that?” + +“Why, Yagna, daughter of Dominik.” + +“To be sure; she had escaped my memory.” + +“A bouncing wench and tall; no fence but would break under her weight.” + +“Yagna!” repeated Boryna, who had been silently listening to this +roll-call; “but they say she runs after men.” + +“Who has seen her? who knows? Gossips will gossip for gossiping’s sake +and for envy,” cried the Voyt’s wife, hot in her defence. + +“Oh, I did not say she was that way, but it’s common talk. Well, now, I +must be off.” He adjusted his girdle, put a live coal to his pipe, and +pulled at it twice or three times. + +“And for what hour is the summons?” + +“For nine o’clock; so it stands in black and white in the District +Court. You will have to rise early, if you are going there on foot.” + +“I shall take the filly and drive slowly. God be with you, and thanks +for your good cheer and neighbourly advice.” + +“May God go with you, too. And think over what we have been telling you. +Say but the word, and I will go to the old dame with vodka for you; and +we shall have a wedding before Yule-tide is out.” + +Boryna answered not a word, but gave them a parting glance that might +mean anything. + +“When old with young to wedlock fly, the devil is glad, for he profits +thereby,” was the blind beggar’s reflection as he finished the mashed +potatoes. Boryna walked homeward with slow steps, seriously meditating +on the advice given him. At the Voyt’s he had carefully kept from +letting it be known by any sign whatever that the idea was extremely to +his liking. How could he? He was not a young whippersnapper, who would +at the bare mention of marriage be ready to dance and shout for joy, but +a grave, elderly farmer. + +Night had already enshrouded the earth. The stars glistened in the sky’s +sombre depths like silver dewdrops, and all was still, save for an +occasional bark of a dog or two. Faintly and far between, a few lights +twinkled athwart the orchard trees, and now and then a breath of damp +air blew up from the meadows, making the boughs wave slightly and their +leaves whisper soft sounds. + +Boryna was making for home by another way—direct and leading down over +the bridge, under which the waters of the pond, rolling towards the +mill, with a hollow bubbling sound, poured into the stream. He then +crossed to the other side, skirting the pond, where the waters shone +darkly and the trees along its shores cast gloomy shadows over its +surface, framing it in ebony; though near the centre, where the shadows +were lighter, the twinkling stars were reflected as in a mirror of +steel. + +Matthias himself could not have said why he did not now go straight +home, instead of choosing a roundabout way. Did he want to pass in front +of Yagna’s house? Possibly he meant only to collect his thoughts and +revolve matters within his head. + +“Really, it would not be a bad thing. And what they say of her is all +very true. Yes, she is a strapping girl!” + +A shiver ran through him. It was damp and cold near and about the pond +and he came straight from the Voyt’s cosy fireside. + +“Without a woman at home, I must either be ruined or make over the farm +to my children,” he thought, and then: “And she’s a lusty wench, and as +pretty as a picture. My best cow gone to-day! and who knows what else +will go to-morrow? Perhaps I ought to look out for a second wife; my +first one has left things to wear a plenty. But Dominik’s old widow ... +she is a wicked creature!—Three of them, and fifteen acres: about five +for Yagna, besides her share of the cabin and the livestock. Five acres +of fields—the very ones beyond my own potato-patch. Together with mine, +they will make close to thirty-five acres. A nice bit of land!” + +He rubbed his hands and set his girdle straight. “The miller would be +the only man richer than I. Next year, I would manure and till the whole +of my lands for wheat. I would have to purchase another horse. And a cow +too, in place of poor Red-and-White.—Oh, but then she would bring a cow +of her own....” + +So he went on musing, calculating, and dreaming farmers’ dreams, till +the weight of his thoughts became, he felt, too big for his mind. For he +was marshalling every detail, like the intelligent peasant that he was, +and considering whether he had not possibly overlooked anything of +importance. + +“They would raise a hue over it, the rascals!” he said to himself, +thinking of his children. But at the thought there rushed over him a +wave of indomitable self-confidence, which immediately filled his soul +and confirmed him in his purpose, wavering and undecided as he had been +hitherto. + +“The land is my own. Let anyone else dare claim my property! If they +don’t like it, they may....” Here he broke off, for he was then standing +in front of the cabin where Yagna dwelt. + +The lamps were not yet out, and a long streak of brightness from the +open window, passing through the dahlia bushes and the hedge, illumined +the road. Boryna, standing in the shadow, glanced into the room. + +A big fire was evidently burning on the hearth, for the crackling of +pinewood could be heard; and the great room, though dusky in the +corners, was elsewhere filled with a reddish light. The old dame, +crouching close to the fire-place, was reading something aloud; and +Yagna, dressed only in her smock, her face turned to the window and her +sleeves tucked up to the shoulders, was engaged in plucking a live +goose. + +“A comely wench!” he thought. + +She would raise her head now and then, listen to the reading, and heave +a deep sigh. Then she would again set to plucking the goose, but so +roughly that the bird would gabble audibly with pain, and, escaping from +her hands, flap about the room till the feathers were flying everywhere. +But she would soon quiet it and hold it fast between her knees, the bird +uttering only a few faint cries, to which other cries responded from the +passage and the yard. + +“A handsome girl, she,” he mused and walked away at a rapid pace, for +the blood had gone to his head. Raising his hand to his brow, he drew +tightened his girdle as he walked. + +He was already within his own gates, and had passed the fence, when he +looked round at Yagna’s dwelling, which stood opposite on the other side +of the water. Someone was just then going out, for a quick flash from +the opening door lit up the pond. Heavy footsteps were heard tramping +along, and the splash of a bucket of water was audible; then at last, +amid the darkness and the mists which had come up from the meadows, a +voice sang to a slow tune: + + “Betwixt us rolls the flood, O grief! + How can I send a kiss from here? + I’ll float it down upon a leaf + And waft my love to thee, my dear.” + +He listened long, but the voice was heard no more; and after a while all +the lights were put out. + +The moon, now in her full, had risen above the forest-trees, silvering +their tops, throwing its radiance through their boughs and upon the +pond, and peeping down into the cottage windows. The dogs no longer +barked. An unfathomable stillness had settled over the village and over +all nature. + +Boryna made the round of the yard, took a look at the horses that +snorted as they munched their provender, and put his head into the +cow-byre, the doors of which stood open because of the heat. The cows +were lying and chewing the cud with the low murmurs peculiar to cattle. + +He closed the granary doors and, taking off his hat, entered his cabin +and said his evening prayers half aloud. All were sleeping. He undressed +quietly and went at once to bed. + +He could not sleep, however. The coverlet was so hot that he drew it +from over his feet. His head, too, was teeming with many a troublesome +and worrisome thought. Besides, he was not at his best physically. + +“Sour milk,” he muttered, “as I always say, is not good to take of an +evening.” + +And then he thought about his children and pondered over what had been +said of Yagna, till all this became muddled and confused in his brain. +He knew not what to do, and was on the point (as once had been his wont) +of calling for advice to the sleeper in the other bed: + +“Mary! Am I to marry or not?” + +But he remembered in time that his Mary had been lying in the churchyard +ever since the spring. Yuzka was there, asleep and breathing heavily. +And he was a poor desolate man, with no one on earth to advise him. So +he gave a deep sigh, crossed himself, and said a few Ave Marias for the +soul of his departed and for the souls of all the faithful in purgatory. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + +When daybreak began to shed its light on the cabin-roofs, and dispel the +night, and make the stars to fade, things were already moving about +Boryna’s hut. + +Kuba had left the stable. There was hoarfrost on the ground, and it was +yet grey dawn; but the East flaunted a tinge of burning red, and the +frosty tree-tops likewise. He stretched himself with satisfaction, +yawned more than once, and went to the byre to call Vitek; for it was +time to rise. But the lad only lifted his drowsy head, and whispering: +“Presently, Kuba, presently,” laid it down again. + +“Well, sleep a little more, poor fellow! sleep yet a little more!” Kuba +covered him with a sheepskin coat, and limped away; for he had once +received a bullet in the knee, which lamed him for life. He washed at +the well, ran his fingers through his scanty hair, that had got matted +during the night, and, kneeling down on the stable threshold, proceeded +to say his prayers. + +The master was still in bed, when the cabin-windows took a purple tint +in the ruddy glow of morning. Kuba’s rosary glided through his fingers; +he prayed for a long time, his eyes wandering nevertheless over the +yard, the windows, the orchard with the hoarfrost still not melted on +the trunks, and the apple-trees, laden with fruit as large as his fist. +Then he threw something at the white head of Lapa, the dog which slept +in the kennel close by; but Lapa only growled, curled up, and slept on. + +“What, you rascal! would ye sleep till sunrise?” he cried, and threw +missile after missile, till the dog came out, with a stretch and a yawn +and a wag of its tail, and, approaching him, proceeded to scratch itself +and cleanse its shaggy coat with its teeth. + +“And unto Thee, and also unto all Thy Saints, do I, O Lord, offer up +this my prayer. Amen.” + +He beat his breast many times, rose from his knees, and called out to +Lapa: + +“O you dainty dog you, hunting for fleas like a lass going to a +wedding!” + +Being an industrious fellow, he now set to work, taking the cart out of +the shed and greasing the wheels, giving the horses a drink, and filling +the racks with hay till they snorted with pleasure and pawed the stable +floor. Then he brought from the granary some refuse of corn plentifully +seasoned with good oats, which he took to the mare’s manger: for she had +been given a stall apart. + +“Eat, old girl, eat away; you are to have a foal, and you need strength. +Eat away!” He stroked her over the nose; and the mare laid her head on +his shoulder, and playfully pulled at his shock of hair with her lips. + +“Till noon, we shall be bringing in potatoes, and then we shall go to +get litter in the evening. Never fear; a cart of litter is no great +weight; don’t worry.” + +“But you! for you there’s a good flogging in store, you lazy brute!” he +said to the gelding that stood close by and was pushing its head forward +between the boards that separated it from the mare’s manger. + +“You hireling, you Jew! Willing enough to devour good oats, you are; but +to move one step, save for the whip—not you!” + +He passed it by, and looked into the manger that stood next to the wall, +from which the filly’s head—chestnut-coloured, with a white arrow on the +forehead,—had for some time been watching him; and she uttered a gentle +neigh. + +“Easy, little one, easy! And eat your fill; you will take master to +town....” But her flank was soiled, and he wiped it clean with a wisp of +hay. Such a full-grown filly, ready for coupling ... and yet so dirty! +Always wallowing in the mire like a sow! + +So he went on, talking continually, and passed round to the sties, to +let out the pigs that were squealing for food. Lapa followed him, +looking wistfully into his face. + +“Want something, eh? Here you are then—a nice bit of bread for you!” He +took a piece of bread from his bosom and tossed it into the air. Lapa +caught it, and ran away to his kennel, for the pigs would have taken it +from him. + +“Ha! those swine, they are like some men: all for grabbing what’s not +theirs.” + +In the barn he took a long look at the quartered cow that hung from the +beams. + +“A beast without understanding. Gone in her turn. She will be in the +pots by to-morrow. Poor thing! you end by making a Sunday dinner for +us.” + +With a sigh of longing for the feast in store, he went to rouse Vitek. +“’Twill be sunrise directly. Come, drive the cows to grass.” + +Vitek had no mind; he wrapped his sheepskin round him and grunted; but +in the end he got up, and shambled drowsily about the yard. + +The master had overslept himself; for the sun was up, making the +hoarfrost a dust of rubies, and each pane and pool a mirror of fire, and +no one had as yet appeared from the cabin. + +Vitek sat on the cow-byre threshold, scratching himself and yawning +audibly. The sparrows had come down from the roofs to the well, and were +now bathing in the troughs. He took a ladder, and went to look at the +swallows’ nests under the eaves; for it was very still there, and he +feared they might have died of cold. Several swallows lay there, +benumbed. Taking them out very gently, he placed them within his +shirt-bosom. + +“See, Kuba, see! they are dead!” And he showed him the bodies, stiff and +stark. Kuba took them one by one, laid them to his ear, breathed on +their eyes, and gave his opinion. + +“They are only numb with last night’s cold. Silly things, not to have +left for some warm country yet! Ah, well!” And he went about his work +again. + +Vitek seated himself in front of the cabin, where the sunbeams poured +down upon the whitewashed walls, and flies were already crawling. He +took out such swallows as the heat of his body had revived a little; he +breathed on them, opened their bills, gave them to drink from his own +warm lips, until at length they were restored, opened their eyes, and +fluttered to get free. Then, swiftly catching a fly on the wall, he +would feed it to a bird and let it go. + +“Away to your mother, fly away!” he said, as the young swallows sat on +the rafters of the byre, preening themselves and twittering their +thanks, as it were. + +Lapa, sitting on his hind quarters, looked on with keen interest, +whining now and then, running a few paces after each bird to catch it as +it fluttered off, and then returning to watch proceedings. + +“You might as well try to catch the wind,” said Vitek, so absorbed in +reviving the swallows, that he took no note of Boryna coming round the +hut, until the latter stood in front of him. + +“Ha! you filthy knave! Playing with birds, are you?” + +The lad jumped up to run for it; but the farmer caught him fast by the +coat-collar, while with his other hand he undid the broad thong of tough +leather which formed his girdle. + +“Oh, but don’t beat me, don’t beat me, pray!” was all the poor fellow +could utter. + +“What sort of a cowherd are you, hey?—That’s how you tend cattle, +hey?—Lost my best cow for me, hey?—You foundling, you!—You Warsaw +mooncalf!” And he laid on furiously, wherever he could get a blow home; +and the thong whistled in the air, and the lad writhed like an eel and +roared for mercy. + +“Don’t! O Lord! He’s killing me! Master! O Jesus, mercy!” + +Hanka peered out to see what the matter was; Kuba spat with disgust and +withdrew into the stable. + +Boryna continued flogging him with might and main, scoring his loss upon +the lad’s flesh with a vengeance, while Vitek shrieked and yelled at the +top of his voice. At last the poor wretch managed to wriggle out of his +master’s clutch, and holding his posteriors with both hands, ran to the +fence, roaring as he ran: “He has killed me! My God! he has killed me!” +while the swallows that were still in his bosom, fell out and were +scattered along the road. + +Boryna, still breathing threats against him, returned to the cottage and +looked into Antek’s quarters. + +“What!” he cried out on seeing him. “Still abed, and the sun up so +long?” + +“I had to rest. Was tired to death yesterday.” + +“I am going to the law court. You will bring home the potatoes; and when +that work is done, send our people to get litter. You might yourself +drive in laths to make the hut a winter coating.”[9] + +----- + +Footnote 9: + + Polish peasants, in order to keep their huts warmer in winter, put + round them a sort of palisade of laths over a yard high, the space + between is then stuffed with hay, dry leaves, boughs, etc., often + mixed with clay.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“Do that yourself; there is no wind on our side.” + +“As you please. I will do my side; and you, Mr. Sluggard, shall freeze.” + +He slammed the door, and entered his own quarters. The fire was lit and +Yuzka was going to milk the cows. + +“Give me breakfast instantly: I must be off.” + +“I can’t be in two places, nor do two things at once.” + +And she went out. + +“Not one quiet minute! I am forced to curse and fall foul of everybody,” +he said to himself, and proceeded to dress in a very vile humour. What +everlasting rows with his son, so that at every word each was ready to +fly at the other—or worse—to say something that stabbed you like a +knife! His ill humour, as he pondered, increased so, that he could not +help cursing under his breath, and flinging his boots here and there +about the floor. + +“They ought to obey me, and they don’t. For what reason?” he asked +himself. + +“Because, no doubt, a cudgel, and a good one, is needed to deal with +them. I ought long since to have used one. But I did not care to raise a +scandal in the village, and could not make up my mind to do that. For I +am not a beggarly ploughman; thirty acres are mine. Nor am I of a mean +family; Boryna is a well-known name.—But kindness is thrown away upon +them!” And then he remembered his son-in-law, the blacksmith, who was +setting everyone against him, and continually pressing for a gift of six +acres of cornland and one of forest, “willing,” he said, “to wait for +the rest.” + +“That is, till I am dead! Oh, yes,” he thought bitterly, “you will have +to wait, fellow! While I live, you’ll not have so much as a smell at my +land! You’re too clever by half!” + +When Yuzka came in from milking, the potatoes were on the boil, and +breakfast was soon ready. + +“Yuzka, you will sell the meat yourself! To-morrow is Sunday, and people +know that we have it, so they will be coming. But no credit, mind! Keep +the hind quarters for our own eating. You will call in Ambrose to salt +and pickle them.” + +“But the blacksmith too can do that.” + +“He’ll take his share—the wolf’s share of the sheep!” + +“But Magda will be hurt. ’Tis our cow; is she to have nothing?” + +“Then cut off a piece and send it to Magda: but don’t call in the +blacksmith.” + +“Father dear, that’s kind of you!” + +“All right, little one. Take good care of things here, and I’ll bring +you a roll or something from town.” + +He made a pretty good meal, girt himself up, smoothed down his scanty +dishevelled hair, took his whip, and looked round the room. + +“Is there anything I have forgotten?” + +He would have looked into the alcove too, but Yuzka’s eye was upon him: +so he merely crossed himself, and went out. + +Sitting in the cart, with the reins in his hand, he gave one more order +to Yuzka, who stood in the porch. + +“When they have done digging the potatoes, send them off to rake up the +litter: you’ll find the permit stuck behind the picture.... And tell +them to cut down some young fir or hornbeam: it will come in handy.” + +The cart had got as far as the fence, when Vitek showed himself among +the apple-trees. + +“I had forgotten.... Vitek! Prrru, prrru! Vitek, I say! you will take +the kine to the meadow.... And tend them well, or you’ll get such a +flogging as you won’t forget.” + +“Oh, you may kiss—” the lad cried audaciously, and vanished on the other +side of the barn. + +“None of your impudence! If I get down, you’ll see!” + +He turned to the right into the road by the church. The sun was by now +above the cottages, with ever stronger and stronger rays. From the +thatches mists rose up, and waterdrops dripped down; but in the shadows +of the hedges and ditches, the frost lay white. On the pond, the thin +film of morning haze had grown thinner; the waters bubbled and shone in +the sunlight. + +In the village the round of daily toil was commencing. Folks were +livelier and more spirited than usual in this bright cool morning air: +some going forth in troops to dig in the fields, carrying hoes and +mattocks, and baskets with provisions; some setting out to plough the +stubbled fields; some with harrows in carts, and bags full of seed-corn; +whilst others wended their way to the wood for litter, and bore rakes on +their shoulders. And on either side of the pond the noise increased, +when presently the roads became crowded with cattle driven to grass; +dogs barked, men shouted, and a heavy dust which the night’s dew had but +partly laid, rose in the highway. + +Boryna carefully threaded his way among the cattle, from time to time +cracking his whip at some lamb or calf that would blunder across the +filly’s path; and at last he got clear of them all, and approached the +church, which was screened by a great rampart of limes and plane-trees, +with dull yellow foliage. Thence he passed on to a broader road, planted +on either side with giant poplars. + +The bell had been rung to announce that mass was beginning, and the +muffled notes of the organ came from within; he doffed his hat and +breathed a devout prayer. + +The way was solitary, and strewn with fallen leaves, which covered, as +with a carpet of dead gold, all its deep holes and ruts, and the gnarled +roots about its surface: a carpet striped by the falling shadows of the +poplars, as the sun shone across the way. + +“Gee-up! my little one, gee-up!” He cracked his whip, for the road +sloped upwards, though slightly, towards the forest, black in the +distance. + +The silence made Boryna drowsy; he gazed through the colonnade of +poplars upon the fields bathed in the rosy radiance, and tried to think +of Eva’s accusation and of Red-and-White’s death; but he could not help +feeling slumber coming on. Birds were chirruping in the boughs; through +the tree-tops murmured the wind, here and there bringing down a leaflet, +like a golden butterfly, that settled with a whirl on the road, or on +some dusty clump of thistles, whose fiery eyes opened bravely to the +sun. And the poplars talked one with another, and murmured softly with +swaying boughs, and then were still. + +It was only when he had reached the forest, and the horse stopped, that +he woke up completely. + +“The corn is coming up nicely here,” he mused, gazing sunwards at the +grey fields, with their rust-coloured haze of sprouting rye. + +“A good bit of land, and next to mine—just as if it had been put there +on purpose!—This rye, I think, was not sown long ago.” He cast a longing +glance at the recently harrowed lands, and then, uttering a sigh, +entered the forest. + +Here, however, a cold bleak wind, driving in his face, quite dispelled +his reverie. + +The forest was very old and very great. It stood, compact and thick, in +the majesty of age and strength combined. Nearly all the trees were +pines; but not unfrequently an ancient spreading oak would appear, or +some birches, in their smocks of white bark, let their tangled yellow +foliage float in the air. The lower growths—the hazel-nut, the dwarf +hornbeam, and the trembling aspen—were crowded around the mighty red +pine-trunks, so closely and with branches so intertwined, that the +sunbeams could but seldom touch the ground, where they seemed to be +crawling, like bright-hued insects, over the mosses and reddish faded +ferns. + +“All this is mine. Four acres,” he reflected, devouring the wood with +his eyes, and gloating over the best bits of timber. + +“Ah! the Lord will not let us be wronged! Nor will we let people wrong +us, either! The manor folk think what we have is too much: we think it +too little.—Let me see: my four, and Yagna’s one; four and one’s.... +Gee-up! foolish beast! Afraid of magpies?” He whipped her up smartly; +for, upon the dry Tree, where the crucified Christ was hanging, magpies +were quarrelling so violently that the filly had pricked up her ears and +stopped short. + +“‘Magpies’ quarrelling, rain will surely bring,’” he muttered, and with +a few strokes of the whip mended the filly’s pace to a trot. + +It was now well past eight, for the people in the fields were sitting +down to breakfast, when he came to Timow: a small town whose empty +narrow streets were lined with dilapidated houses, like rows of old +saleswomen—lining gutters full of rubbish, and dirty Jewish children, +and pigs. + +He had scarcely entered, when crowds of Jews and Jewesses rushed round +him, eager to look into his cart and fumble among the straw it was +strewn with,—even under the seat—to find anything he might have to sell. + +“Off, ye scurvy louts!” he growled, turning into the market-place, +where, in the shadow of a few ancient decayed chestnut-trees slowly +dying in the centre of the square, hard on a score of wagons were drawn +up, their horses unharnessed. + +He drove his own cart in there among them, brushed off the straw from +his coat, and went straight to Mordko the barber’s, to get a shave. +Presently he issued thence, clean-shaven, and with only one cut on his +chin, plastered with a bit of paper, through which the blood oozed. + +The court was not yet open; but in front of the building that stood +right in the market-place, opposite a very large church, a good many +people had already assembled, and were sitting upon the time-worn steps, +or lounging outside the windows. Women squatted along the white walls, +chatting together, with the red aprons they had worn on their heads as +they came, now fallen on to their shoulders. + +Boryna perceived Eva holding her boy by the hand, and surrounded by her +witnesses. A storm of anger surged within him. He spat contemptuously, +and withdrew into the corridor that ran the whole length of the +officials’ private lodgings. The judgment hall was to the left; the +secretary occupied the right side. + +Just then the manservant Yacek had passed the threshold of the lodgings +with a samovar, and was blowing it so hard that it smoked like a factory +chimney. From time to time a shrill angry voice was raised from the +extremity of the smoke-darkened corridor. + +“Yacek! the young ladies’ shoes!” + +“Presently, presently.” + +The samovar was now hissing, and spouting flames, and burning like a +volcano. + +“Yacek! water for master to wash!” + +“Yes, yes, directly, directly!” + +Perspiring, distracted, the man ran to and fro about the corridor till +it rang again, and returned to blow, and went off anew; for his mistress +now screamed: + +“Yacek, you rascal, where are my stockings?” + +“Confound this devil of a samovar!” + +The scene continued for some time yet; but at last the door of the court +opened, and in the people rushed, filling the large whitewashed hall. + +Yacek was there again, now in his capacity as usher: barefooted, but in +a dark-blue jacket and trousers of the same hue, and brass buttons. His +red face perspiring freely, he wiped it with his sleeve as he slipped in +behind the black grating by which the hall was divided into two parts. +Tossing his head like a horse attacked by a gadfly (for his sandy hair +fell over his eyes and into them), he sat down for a moment’s rest near +a huge stove of green delf tiles, after peering cautiously into the +adjoining room. + +So many people had come in that the place was chock-full. They pressed +against the grating till it shook, and after a time began to talk, the +murmur of voices soon filling the whole room. + +Under the windows outside, Jews were vociferating; within, women +clamorously expounded their wrongs, and still more clamorously wept over +them; but what those wrongs were, no one could make out. Everybody was +cheek by jowl, like a field of red poppies or of rye, waving to and fro +in the wind, and rustling and whispering; all clustered together. + +It was then that Eva caught sight of Boryna, upright against the +grating, and heaped insults upon him, till she cut him to the quick and +he answered hotly: + +“Silence, you bitch, or I’ll give you such a drubbing that your own +mother won’t know you!” + +Eva, in a fury, clawed at him, and tried to reach him through the press; +but her kerchief fell off, and her child fell a-screaming. What might +have happened, none can say: for just then Yacek started up, opened an +inner door, and shouted: + +“Hold your peace, yokels! The court is entering.” + +It was indeed: the stalwart squire of Raciborowice, followed by two +assistant magistrates, and the secretary. The latter, sitting down at a +side-table, set some papers in order, and eyed the magistrates, as they +put their gold chains round their necks, and took their places at a +great table, covered with crimson cloth. + +At once there fell such a silence that the men chattering outside the +windows could be plainly heard; and the session began. + +The first complaint was brought by a constable against a petty trader, +on account of some nuisance in his yard.—Condemned in default. + +Then the case of a boy flogged for having put horses to graze in +clover.—A compromise: five roubles for the mother; a new jacket and +trousers for the boy. + +A complaint of encroachment in ploughing.—No evidence: set aside. + +A case of theft of timber in a forest, the judge’s property: +complainant, the administrator; defendants, the peasants of +Rokiciny.—Fined, with alternative of a fortnight’s imprisonment. They +gave notice of appeal, and made such a noise about the injustice of the +sentence, they having the common right to cut firewood in the forest, +that the head magistrate made a sign to Yacek, who thundered: + +“Silence! silence in the court! This is not a tavern!” + +And thus case after case, like furrow following furrow, was dispatched, +evenly and quietly enough in general, with a few lamentations and sobs, +or even curses at times; but these were promptly suppressed by Yacek. + +Some of the people had withdrawn; but so many more came instead, that +they all stood like cornstalks in a sheaf. No one could move, and it +grew stiflingly hot, until the magistrate ordered the windows to be +opened. + +And now came the case of Bartek Koziol, of Lipka, accused of stealing a +sow from Martianna Paches, daughter of Anthony. Witnesses, the aforesaid +Martianna, her son Simon, Barbara Pyesek, etc. + +“Are the witnesses present?” asked one of the assistant magistrates. + +“We are here,” came the reply in chorus. + +Boryna had hitherto stood patiently apart, close to the grating; but he +now approached Paches to greet her; for she was no other than Dominik’s +widow, Yagna’s mother. + +“Let the defendant come up to the grating.” + +A low-statured peasant pushed forwards. + +“Are you Bartek Koziol?” + +The peasant, seemingly bewildered, scratched his thick hair, of +roundhead cut; a silly grin twitched his dry clean-shaven face, and his +small red-fringed eyes kept leaping like squirrels from one judge to the +other. + +As he answered nothing, the judge repeated the question. + +“Aye, aye, that he is; he is Bartek Koziol, an’t please the most +honourable court!” cried an unwieldy woman, forcing her way inside the +grating. + +“What do you want?” + +“An’t please you, I am the wife of this poor thing, Bartek Koziol”; and +extending her hands, palms downwards to the floor, she bowed till her +frilled cap touched the magistrates’ table. + +“Are you a witness?” + +“A witness, did you say? No, but please....” + +“Usher, outside the grating with her.” + +“Get out, woman; this is not your place.” + +He seized her by the shoulders and forced her back. + +“An’t please this most honourable court,” she cried, “my husband is hard +of hearing!” + +“Out, before I treat you roughly!” Yacek roared, pushing her against the +grating till she groaned with pain. + +“Go peaceably; we shall speak loud enough for your Koziol to hear.” + +The examination began. + +“What is your name?” + +“My name? Surely you know it, since you have called me. Is it my +nickname you want?” + +“Dolt! give your name,” said the inexorable magistrate. + +“Bartek Koziol, most honourable court,” his wife replied for him. + +“How old?” + +“How am I to remember? Mother, what age am I?” + +“Fifty-two next spring, I think.” + +“A farmer?” + +“Oh, yes: three acres of sandy land and one head of cattle; a fine +farmer I am!” + +“Ever sentenced?” + +“Sentenced?” + +“Were you ever put in prison?” + +“Is it convicted you mean?—Mother, was I ever in prison?” + +“Yes, Bartek, you were—through those rotten manor folks, on account of a +dead lamb.” + +“Ah, so I was.—I found a dead lamb in a pasture-meadow. Well, was it to +be eaten by the dogs? So I took it; and they lodged a complaint against +me, and swore I had stolen the beast, and the court passed sentence. +They put me in prison, and there I had to lie.—But it was +unjust—unjust!” he said in a low voice, and casting a side-glance at his +wife. + +“You are accused of stealing a sow, the property of Martianna Paches: of +taking it out of the field, driving it to your hut, and killing and +eating it. What defence have you?” + +“I never ate it. If I did, may God forsake me at my dying hour! I eat +it?—Well, I declare!” + +“What defence have you?” + +“Oh ... defence?—Had I aught to say, Mother?—Ah, I remember now.—Yes: +not guilty. I did not eat the sow, and this same Martianna Dominik’s +widow is even as a barking dog!” + +“Oh, what liars some men are!” the Dominik woman sighed. + +“Explain how Paches’ sow got into your hut.” + +“Into my hut—Paches’ sow?—Mother, what did the honourable squire say?” + +“Why, Bartek, he asked you about the pig that followed you to our hut.” + +“Oh, I know ... I know now. I pray the honourable court to excuse me and +listen to what I have said already and repeat now.—It was a pig and not +a sow; a white pig, with a black patch about the tail ... or somewhat +lower down.” + +“Well, but how did it get into your hut?” + +“Into my hut? I will tell you all exactly as it took place, and show the +right worshipful court and the people here assembled that I am innocent, +and that the woman Dominik is a lying gipsy, a cursed and pampered +shrew.” + +“A lying.... May the Most Holy Mother grant you be struck dead +unshriven!” the woman ejaculated, with a deep sigh, and a glance at an +image of the Blessed Virgin that hung in a corner. Then she clenched her +bony fist, shook it at him, and hissed: + +“O you swine-stealer! you villain, you!” and she opened her talons as +though about to claw him. + +Here Bartek’s wife interfered, screaming: + +“Would you then? would you hurt him, you jade, you witch, you tyrant of +your sons?” + +“Be quiet,” ordered the judge. + +“Hold your tongues when the judge is speaking, or I’ll turn you both out +of the place!” Yacek chimed in, holding up his trousers; for the braces +had given way. + +Silence was now restored, and the two old women, who had all but flown +at each other’s throats, now stood mute, though looking daggers and +breathing hate. + +“Speak now, Bartek, and tell us the whole truth.” + +“Yes, the truth, the truth itself, as clear as crystal. As if I were at +confession.—It was in this wise....” + +“Look well into your head,” his wife Magda put in, “lest you should +forget anything.” + +“I will do so, Magda.—It was in this wise. I was walking along (it was +in spring, and I was close to Boryna’s clover-field, just beyond the +Wolf-Hole).... So I walked along, saying my prayers, for night was +coming on.—Now, on my way, I heard ... was it a voice, or not? I +wondered. Did it grunt, or not?... Behind me I looked, but saw nothing: +all was still. Was it the devil after me?... I went on my way, +shuddering with fear, and said a Hail Mary.... Again—a grunt! So I said +to myself it was only a sow, or it might be a pig.... But I walked a few +steps aside into the clover; and what did I see? Something following me. +I stopped, it stopped. A long white thing, low on its legs; its eyes +blazed like a wildcat’s or a devil’s.... I crossed myself; and having +gooseflesh, mended my pace. For I knew not what thing it could be, +prowling thus by night. Also, as all men know, the Wolf’s Hole is a +haunted place.” + +“Yes, that’s a truth,” his wife observed; “last year Sikora was passing +there at night, and something took him by the throat, threw him down, +and beat him so, that he kept his bed for a fortnight.” + +“Hold your peace, Madga.—So on, on, on I went, with the thing still +running after me—and grunting! Just then the moon shone out clear, and I +saw.—Lo, it was a pig, and no devil at all!... I was angered; for what +did the foolish thing mean by frightening me thus? So, throwing a stick +at it, I make for my home, along the path between Michael’s beetroots +and Boryna’s wheat, and then between Thomas’ sown corn and Yashek’s oats +(him they took to the army last year, and whose wife had a baby +yesterday).... And the pig still ran after me as a dog would run, and +then going on one side, and into Dominik’s potato-patch, grunted all the +way. I turned off, and followed a slanting pathway across the fields: +and it followed still.—I felt hot all over. My God! a strange +sow!—Perhaps it was no sow! I went round nigh the crucifix, and the pig +after me.... I leapt the ditch: it leaped too! Then I went to the mounds +beyond the crucifix.... After me still! Then I ran by the pear-trees, +and it came between my legs, and tripped me up.... I wondered whether it +was a possessed pig! I had scarce got up, when it began to run on before +me, with its tail in the air. ‘Away with you, then, you pest of a +beast!’ I said. But it did not go from me: straight to my hut, to my +very hut, did it go! It passed the fence, most honourable court! by the +fence into the passage, and into the room through the open door. So help +me God! Amen!” + +“And so you killed and ate it, did you?” the magistrate asked, with a +smile. + +“Killed? Ate?—Well, what was to be done? One day went by: the pig would +not go. A week passed, and there was no getting rid of it: it always +returned, squealing. My wife gave it all she could to eat. Were we to +let it starve? it was as much God’s creature as we were.... But let the +most honourable court, in its wisdom, take this into account: what was +I, a poor orphan, to do with it? Nobody came for the beast, we were +needy people; and it ate, and ate ... as much at least as two other pigs +would have done. What then? In a month, we should have been eaten out of +house and home, aye, and out of our skins too.... What, then, could we +do? It was a case of eat or be eaten.—So we did; but only a little of +it; for they heard of it in the village, and the Dominik woman +complained to the Soltys,[10] and came with him, and took everything +away.” + +----- + +Footnote 10: + + _Soltys_—the village headman.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“Everything, indeed!” interrupted the Dominik woman, angrily. “And what +became of the hind quarters?” + +“Ask that of Kruchek and the other dogs. We had put it into the barn for +the night. Now, the dogs were on the watch, and there was a hole in the +door; so they got in, and had a good feast on ... what I am accused of +stealing.” + +“So the sow went after you by herself, did it? Tell that story to an +idiot, not to this court! You thieving blackguard! Who was it took the +miller’s ram? who stole his Reverence’s geese? Say who?” + +“Have you seen who? have you seen?” shrieked Koziol’s wife, rushing +forwards to use her nails. But the other continued mercilessly: + +“Who plundered the organist’s potato-pit? Who is it that snaps up +everything missing in the village—be it gosling, or chicken, or rake or +hoe?” + +“You carrion, you! All you did when a lass—what your Yagna is doing now +with the farm-lads—oh, no one reminds you of that now, vile trollop that +you have been!” + +This stung Dominikova to the very quick. “You dare to name my Yagna!” +she roared furiously. “You dare! I’ll knock your teeth down your +throat!” + +“Silence, hussies! or I shall have to drive you out!” said Yacek, to +quiet them, holding his trousers up with one hand. + +The witnesses were then heard. + +Dominikova, the plaintiff, spoke first. She had taken a subdued and +pious tone of voice, every now and then calling Our Lady of Chenstohova +to witness. She averred that the sow was hers, that Koziol had stolen it +from the meadow where it fed. She did not ask the most honourable court +to punish him for that—may our Lord give him a longer time in purgatory +instead!—but (and here she raised her voice to its loudest tones) for +having heaped such foul outrages, and so publicly, upon Yagna and +herself. + +Simon, Dominikova’s son, with clasped hands held under his cap, as one +saying prayers in church, and with his eyes always fixed upon the judge, +bore witness afterwards, in a dull plaintive voice, saying that the sow +was his mother’s, that it was white all over, with a black patch about +the tail, and one ear torn by Lapa, Boryna’s dog, which had attacked her +last spring, and she had squealed so that he could hear her from the +barn. + +Then came the other witnesses, who all confirmed what he said, while +Magda poured denials and curses through the grating, and Dominikova kept +her eyes fixed on the holy image, or on Koziol, who listened +attentively, with glances darted now at the witnesses, now at his wife. + +The audience gave ear with intense interest, sometimes uttering a +murmur, or an ironical comment, or a peal of laughter, severely +suppressed by Yacek. + +The case was gone into thoroughly, and only settled after the +adjournment of the court to discuss the matter; during which time the +people dispersed into the passages and outside the building, to get a +breath of air, take refreshments, speak to the witnesses, or hold forth +about their wrongs: others again, to complain of injustice with fierce +invectives, as is usual on such occasions. + +The adjournment over and sentence given, Boryna’s case came on. Eva +stood up in court, dandling her baby. With floods of tears, she related +how she had come to serve at his house and worked herself off her legs, +and never got a kind word, nor a corner to sleep in, no, nor enough to +eat, so that she had to beg food from the neighbours, and he had not +paid her, but driven her away, and his own child too, on to the high +roads.—Here she burst into bitter tears, and fell at the feet of the +magistrates, screaming. + +“Such, most honourable court, is the wrong done me: and this is his +child!” + +Boryna muttered indignantly: “She lies, like the wretch that she is.” + +“Lie? Why, the whole village of Lipka knows....” + +“That you are a wanton and a drab!” + +“O most honourable court! and he used to call me Yevka and names more +tender still; and would bring me beads, and often and often rolls, when +he came from town; and would say: ‘Here you are, Yevka, here you are, my +dearest!’ And now.... O Jesus! O Jesus!” + +At that, she bellowed aloud. + +“You gipsy trull! Why not say I brought you a feather-bed too, and +cried: ‘Sleep under it, Yevka, sleep!’” + +There was a roar of laughter. + +“What, did you not? Was there anything you did not promise me?” + +“Good God!” exclaimed Boryna, in fierce bewilderment. “It’s monstrous! +And yet the lightning has not struck her!” + +“Honourable court, it is known to the world that this thing has been: +all Lipka can testify that I speak the truth. Let the witnesses speak +and bear testimony!” she cried out, with a tempest of tears and +ejaculations. + +As a matter of fact, however, all they had to say amounted only to bits +of gossip and malicious talk: so she set herself again to bring forward +what proofs she had. As a last resource, she displayed her baby and +exposed it to the eyes of the judges, while it kicked up its naked legs +and roared lustily. + +“The honourable court,” she cried out, “will see with their own eyes +whose it is: whose is this potato nose, whose are these grey-brown blear +eyes? Boryna and he are as like as two drops of water.” + +But this was too much for the court’s gravity; and the audience was also +convulsed with uproarious merriment, when they compared the child with +Boryna. Witticisms came forth in plenty. + +“There’s a handsome lass for you. For all the world like a skinned dog!” + +“Let the widower Boryna marry her: the boy will do for a swineherd.” + +“Why, she is getting as bald as a cow in spring.” + +“A comely girl she is! Put her as a scarecrow in a millet-field; all the +birds will take fright.” + +“Her face is smeared all over with grease and grime.” + +“Because she’s a thrifty soul: washes once a year to save soap!” + +“No wonder; she is so busy, having to light the Jews’ stoves.”[11] + +----- + +Footnote 11: + + Orthodox Jews are forbidden to light fires on the Sabbath, even in + winter. They therefore engage some poor woman to go round and light + their stoves for them on that day.—_Translator’s Note._ + +They were growing more and more caustic and biting every moment, and Eva +stood dumbstruck, with the vacant look of a hunted dog in her eyes as +she gazed round upon the crowd, hazily revolving something or other in +her mind, when Dominikova called out aloud: “Be silent! It is a sin to +revile an unfortunate like her!” Whereupon there was a sudden hush, and +more than one man showed evident signs of shame. + +But the accusation failed completely. + +Boryna felt exceedingly relieved. Innocent as he was, he would have felt +keenly both the scandal of a condemnation and the burden of an order to +pay for the boy; and, as he thought, the law would often enough punish +the innocent instead of the guilty: you never could tell. He knew many +such cases. + +He left the place directly, and, waiting till Dominikova joined him, +began to consider the whole business again. He could not make out Eva’s +motive in thus accusing him. + +“No, it is not her doing; she has not the headpiece for that. Someone +else has been egging her on.—Who can it be?” + +He went with Dominikova and Simon to have a drink and a morsel to eat in +a tavern; for it was past noon. Dominikova hinted that the whole +business was the blacksmith his son-in-law’s work; but this he could not +believe. + +“What would he get by that?” + +“The pleasure of worrying and mortifying you, and making you a +laughing-stock. That fellow would like to flay a man alive, just for the +delight of the thing!” + +“This spite of Eva’s—I cannot understand it. I never harmed her in any +way; nay, I gave his Reverence a sack of oats at her bastard’s +christening!” + +“Why, she serves the miller; the miller is hand in glove with the +blacksmith.—Don’t you see?” + +“I see, but cannot account for it.—Have another drink?” + +“Yes, please; but you first, Matthias.” + +They had another drink, then a third, and finished off another pound of +sausages, and half a loaf of bread; and Boryna bought a lot of rolls for +Yuzka and prepared to depart. + +“Come with me, Dominikova; we shall have a talk. It is tedious to be by +oneself.” + +“All right; but I must go to church first, and say some prayers.” + +She was soon back, and off they started. + +The sun was drawing westward by the time they reached the forest. + +Now and then they said a few words to each other, but only out of +courtesy: it would never do for them to sit moping together. But they +only talked just enough not to doze, and to “keep their tongues wet,” as +the saying goes. + +Boryna whipped up the filly, which now, all in a lather, and tired and +overheated, was going too slowly. He would whistle now and then, and +again relapse into silence, ruminating and pondering over something in +his mind, and calculating things: not infrequently stealing a look at +the old woman, with that dried hard face, set and furrowed, and in hue +like bleached wax. Her toothless jaws moved a little, as if she were +praying silently. Sometimes she would draw the red apron she had tied +round her neck, further over her brow; for the sun shone right into her +face. She sat motionless, save for the gleaming of her grey-brown eyes. + +“Have you dug all your potatoes?” he asked at length. + +“We have. And a pretty good crop it is.” + +“All the easier for you to keep a pig.” + +“I am fattening one; it will come in handy during the carnival.” + +“Surely, surely.—They say that Valek, Rafal’s son, has sent messengers +to you with vodka.” + +“Yes, and others have done the same; but they have lost their money. No, +my Yagna is not for the likes of them.” + +Raising her head, she looked him straight in the eyes, like a hawk. But +Boryna, a man of mature years, was not confused as a youth might have +been. He met her glance with calm and unfathomable serenity. For a +considerable time neither spoke; each seemed vying in taciturnity with +the other. + +It was not fitting for Boryna to make the first advances. How could +he—he, already past middle age, one of the first men in Lipka—blurt out +to her that he had taken a fancy to her Yagna? Nevertheless, being of a +hot temperament, he felt his choler rise within him, thus forced to +parley and beat about the bush. + +Dominikova saw he was annoyed, and knew why; but she would not help him +out by so much as one word, and continued to eye him in silence. At +last, however, in order to say something, she remarked: + +“You look as hot as though it were harvest-time.” + +“Because I am.” + +And indeed it was very hot. The forest was all round them; its mighty +barrier let no breath of air pass, and the sun burned so fiercely that +the tree-tops, scorched with its rays, were drooping over the road, +while a faint fungus-like odour, pungent in the nostrils, came up from +the drying pools and the dry oak-leaves on the ground. + +“Do you know,” said the old woman, “I, and others too, have often +wondered why such a man as you, a man of such high repute amongst us, so +wealthy and so much more able than most men—has no ambition to occupy +some official position?” + +“You are right to say I am without ambition. What would such a post +profit me? I was Soltys here for three years: it cost me a pretty sum. I +lost so much by it that my wife was angry with me.” + +“She was quite right. To be an official always ought to mean both honour +and profit.” + +“Thank you! A great honour it is, surely, to have to bow to the +constables, and lout low to every clerk and every underling at court.... +And if taxes are unpaid, or a bridge is out of order, or if a dog hit by +a cart-shaft goes mad, who is to blame? Why, the Soltys always! And the +profit! How many a fowl and goose and score of eggs have I not had to +send to the clerks and the district officials!” + +“You say true; but then Peter the Voyt here has no grounds of complaint. +He has purchased some land, and built a barn too.” + +“Yes; but when he is Voyt no longer, what will he do?” + +“Then you think that....” + +“Oh, I have my eyes open, and can see a thing or two.” + +“He is most conceited, and at sixes and sevens with the priest.” + +“And if he gets on at all, it is his wife’s doing: she is the real Voyt, +and holds all the cards in her hands.” + +There was silence again for the space of a long pater noster. + +“Tell me,” she said at last, very deliberately, “are you not going to +send anyone messengers with vodka?” + +“Ah, the desire of women is no longer with me: I am an old man.” + +“Do not speak vain words. A man is old when he can go about no more, nor +lift a spoon to his mouth by himself, nor sit elsewhere but by the +stove. Why, I have seen you shouldering a sackful of rye!” + +“Granted that I am yet hale: but who would care to have me?” + +“That you cannot know until you have tried.” + +“Besides, my children are grown up, and I cannot take the first lass +that comes.” + +“Make a deed of gift, and the very best of them will not hold back.” + +“A deed of gift! To get an acre of land, a girl would take a beggar from +the church porch.” + +“What of men? They wouldn’t take a girl with a dowry, would they?” + +He made no reply, but whipped the filly to a gallop. + +Another silence ensued, broken only when they were out of the forest and +upon the poplar-lined road; when Boryna suddenly exclaimed: + +“To the devil with the world as it goes on now! For everything, nay, +even for a good word, you must pay! It is so bad that worse cannot be. +Even children rise up against their parents; there is nowhere any +obedience, and everyone would devour everyone else! The dogs!” + +“They are fools, not remembering that we shall all lie one day together +in consecrated ground.” + +“One has scarce begun to be a man, when he flies in his father’s face, +loudly demanding a portion of his land; and the young only scoff at the +old. Scoundrels, for whom their own village is a hole, who despise all +ancient rules, and who—some of them—are even ashamed of their peasant’s +dress!” + +“All because they have not the fear of God.” + +“Because or not because of that, things are wrong.” + +“And will surely not mend.” + +“They must! But who can compel men to do right?” + +“God’s judgments! For behold, That Day will come, and He will punish +them!” + +“Yes, but before That Day, how many shall be lost!” + +“Times are so bad, that a plague were better.” + +“Times are bad, but men are so, too. What of the blacksmith? And of the +Voyt? They quarrel with our priest, they make people rebel; they seduce +them and are believed by the purblind. That blacksmith, though my +son-in-law, is yet as poison to me.” + +They continued to complain in chorus of the world’s wickedness, as they +looked through the poplars towards the village they were nearing. + +In the distance, there could be seen, outside the churchyard, a row of +women bending down, indistinctly visible through a thin haze round them, +and the dull monotonous thudding sound of cluttering swingles came to +them, borne on the breeze from the low-lying meadows. + +“Just the weather for scutching flax. I shall get down to speak to them, +for Yagna is there too.” + +“I’ll drive you to her; it will make no difference to me.” + +“How very kind you are to-day, Matthias!” she said with a sly smile. + +They turned off from the poplar road to the by-way that led over the +fields to the churchyard. There, outside the low wall of grey stone +which surrounded it, in the shadow of some birches and maples, and of a +few crosses, too, which leaned over the wall, hard on twenty women were +very busily scutching and beating the dry flax: a mist of threads hung +over them in the air, and a few filaments had caught on to the yellow +birch-leaves, or hung suspended from the dark-hued arms of the crosses. +Further down, fires had been kindled in pits, over and across which +poles were laid, and upon them damp flax was drying. + +The swingles were hard at work, and all the womenfolk bent and rose with +quick short jerks up and down: now and then one or another stood up, +beat a wisp of flax free from remnants of woody matter, and, rolling it +up, tossed it on to a piece of linen spread out in front of her. + +The sun, being at present over the forest, shone directly in their +faces, but they did not mind: work and laughter and merry talk never +ceased for an instant. + +“God bless your work!” cried Boryna to Yagna, who was swingling the flax +with all her might. She had nothing on but her white smock, a red +petticoat, and an apron tied over her head against the dust. + +“Bless you for the wish!” she returned blithely, raising her dark-blue +eyes to his, while a smile lit up her handsome sunburnt face. + +“Is it quite dry, dear?” her mother asked, fingering the scutched flax. + +“Dry as a peppercorn; quite brittle.” + +And again she eyed the old man with a smile that made him tingle all +over. He smacked his whip and drove away, looking back at her again and +again, though she was not to be seen any more; for his mind’s eye saw +her still. + +“A girl as graceful as a hind!” he muttered. “Aye, even so!” + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + +Sunday had come round: a bright September Sunday, with plenty of +gossamers and sunshine in the air. + +All Boryna’s livestock was feeding in the stubble beyond the barn; and +Kuba, watching heedfully over them in the shadow of a tall and dome-like +cornstack, was at the same time teaching Vitek his prayers. + +“Now attend to what I am telling you,” he said solemnly; “these are holy +words.” + +“I’m attending, Kuba, I’m attending.” + +“Then why are you looking at those orchards?” + +“I see the Klembas have got some apples on their trees still.” + +“Oh! and you’d like to eat them? Did you plant them?—Come, say the Creed +again.” + +“You did not hatch the partridges, either; yet you have taken the whole +brood.” + +“Silly lad! the apples are Klemba’s, but partridges belong to our Lord. +Do you see?” + +“But the field where you took them belongs to the Squire.” + +“And the field, too, is the Lord’s. You’re too clever by half.—Now say +the Creed.” + +He did so, but in haste, for it hurt him to stay on his knees so long. + +“I think that filly is going into Michael’s clover!” he exclaimed, +preparing to run after her. + +“Don’t trouble about her, but say your prayers.” + +He went through them at last, but had to rest on his heels, and turned +and twisted in every direction. A band of sparrows having settled on a +tree close by, he shied a clod of earth at them, and at once beat his +breast in contrition. + +“Ah, what about the Offering at the end? Swallowed like an overripe +pear, I suppose?” + +He said the Offering, and immediately started up to wake Lapa and play +with it. + +“The calf-like witling! Always scampering about!” + +“Are you going to take the birds to his Reverence?” + +“Yes, I am.” + +“They would be nice, if roasted here....” + +“You have potatoes to roast. What would you more?” + +“See, they are going to church already!” cried Vitek, glancing through +the hedge and the orchard-trees at the red aprons that went twinkling +along the road. + +It was pretty warm, and all the doors and windows of the huts had been +thrown wide open. Here and there, in front of the huts, some were still +washing their faces, or combing or plaiting their hair, or beating their +Sunday garments, which had suffered from a week’s stay in the trunks; +but others had already started, in raiment of the hues of vermilion +poppies, or saffron-tinted dahlias, or nasturtium flowers. Women and +girls, in bright array, farm-hands, little children, grave husbandmen, +in long white capotes that reminded you of huge sheaves of rye, were all +slowly wending their way to church along the roads that led to the pond, +which reflected the sunbeams like a golden trencher. + +And joyfully the big bells boomed, and told of Sunday, and rest, and +prayer. + +Kuba had meant to wait till they rang no longer, but his patience gave +way, so, putting the partridges under his capote, he said: + +“Vitek! as soon as they have done ringing, drive the cattle to the byre, +and then come to church.” + +He then started off—as fast as he could, for he was very lame—along the +road, bordered with orchards, and so strewn with yellow linden leaves, +that he seemed to be walking over a carpet of motley fallow hue. + +The priest’s dwelling stood over against the church, at the bottom of a +large garden, in which there were trees still laden with green pears or +ruddy apples. All over the porch there grew a wild vine, the leaves of +which were now of a rich crimson. Kuba stopped outside, embarrassed, and +looking timidly in at the window and the passage. He durst not go in, +and stayed by a large flower-bed, gay with roses, gilly-flowers, and +asters, whose fragrance was very sweet. From the roof, green with moss, +a flock of white doves flew down to settle on the porch. + +The priest was walking in his garden, saying his Office; but time and +again he would shake an apple or a pear-tree. The fruit fell in a +sounding shower, and he gathered them up in the skirts of his soutane. + +Kuba came up to him, and humbly embraced his knees. + +“What is it you say?—Ah, Kuba, Boryna’s man.” + +“Yes. I have brought your Reverence a few partridges.” + +“Thanks for your gift. Come this way.” + +Kuba accordingly entered the passage, but stopped at the threshold of +the room. He feared to go in, and would only look through the open door +at the various pictures that hung against the walls. He crossed himself, +and breathed a devout sigh, so dazzled by the splendour he saw, that the +tears started to his eyes, and he felt like saying prayers. Only he was +afraid to kneel down upon the polished slippery floor, lest he should +soil it. + +Presently the priest came out of the room, saying, as he handed him a +_zloty_: + +“God reward you, Kuba; you are a good man and a godly one, who never +miss church on Sundays.” + +Kuba again embraced the priest’s knees, so overwhelmed with bliss that +he never knew how he got out and on to the road. + +“What, so much money for so few birds! How I love his Reverence!” he +whispered, looking over the coins given him. He had more than once +brought him birds, or a leveret, or mushrooms; but never had he received +so much: at most, ten kopeks and a kind word. And now! O sweet Lord! a +whole _zloty_!—And he had called Kuba into his room besides, and said +such gentle words! Lord, Lord! + +“None but the priest has regard for poor people, no one else!—May God +and the Blessed Virgin of Chenstohova grant him health!—Yes, a good man +you are, and a kind one!—All the village, farm-hands and owners, only +give me nicknames—call me Cripple, Good-for-Nothing, and Hanger-on. No +one else speaks to me with the least kindness or compassion ... no one +cares for me, but the horses and the dogs. And yet I am of an honest +family: no foundling, but a farmer’s son.” + +He raised his head higher at the thought, straightened himself, and +looked almost defiantly on those about him going to the churchyard, and +on the horses which stood harnessed to the carts outside the enclosure. +He donned his cap, and covered his head of tangled hair, and slowly, +with dignified mien, made for the church; thrusting his hands into his +girdle, as a farmer would have done, though the dust flew up as he +dragged his lame leg after him. + +No. This day he would not, as his wont was, stay in the entrance. He +pushed boldly through the crowd, even close to the High Altar railings, +where only the husbandmen used to stand, where his master was standing, +and the Voyt himself, and the men who carried the canopy over his +Reverence in the procession, and those who, taper in hand, surrounded +the altar at the Elevation! + +They regarded him with amazement and indignation. More than once he +heard taunts and words of upbraiding, and was scowled at, as one scowls +at a dog that goes where it is not wanted. But to-day he did not mind. +The money was tight in his clenched fist; his mind, full of sweet and +gentle feelings. He had a sensation as if he had but now been shriven; +nay, he felt even better. + +Divine Service began. He knelt down close to the Communion Table, and +sang along with the others, his eyes piously fixed upon the altar, +whereon was seen the image of God the Father: a hoary magnate, +stern-looking—just like the Squire of Djazgova Vola. In the centre, Our +Lady of Chenstohova, in gilt raiment, looked down upon him. + +On every side, gold shone bright, tapers gleamed, and nosegays of red +flowers were flaming. From the walls, from the stained-glass windows, +austere saintly visages, surrounded with aureoles, bent above him; +streams of gold, purple, and violet came down, flooding his face and +head with rainbow tints, and he felt as when he plunged into the pond at +sundown, when its waters reflected the sky. Dissolved into ecstasies +with the joy of the beauty before him, he was too much awed to move, and +knelt motionless, gazing at the sweet dark maternal face of the Virgin +of Chenstohova, and with parched lips said prayer after prayer, and sang +with such force and fervour, welling up from the inmost depths of his +enraptured heart, that his husky tuneless voice was heard high above the +others. + +“Kuba! you are bleating like the Jew’s goat!” someone whispered at his +elbow. + +“For the Lord Jesus and His Virgin Mother!” he replied. + +The priest had now gone up to the pulpit. All present lifted their heads +to gaze on that white-surpliced figure, which, bending forward over the +people, read the Gospel of that Sunday to them. This ended, the sermon +began: long, but so powerful that many wept tears, and many heads were +bowed down in remorse. Kuba’s looks were fixed on him, as on some holy +image: he marvelled at the thought that this was the very man who had +just talked with him, and given him a _zloty_. For now he was +transfigured into an archangel in a chariot of fiery light. His face +turned pale and his eyes flashed, as he raised his voice to denounce the +sins of his people: greed and drunkenness, lust and spite, disrespect +for the aged, and ungodly behaviour. And his voice resounded, calling +upon them, and entreating and beseeching them to repent; until Kuba, +dismayed at the thought of all these sins, and the pity and the sorrow +of them, wept aloud, and all the congregation after him—not women only, +but burly husbandmen as well—and the whole place was filled with the +sounds of sobs. Then, when the priest, concluding with an Act of +Contrition, turned towards the altar, and went down on his knees, a cry +ran through the building; all the people fell prostrate on the pavement, +like a forest blown down by a whirlwind; and a cloud of dust rose over +the multitude that lay thus, tearful and lamenting, heart-broken and +contrite, imploring the mercy of God. + +Then silence again prevailed—the silence of prayer and of heartfelt +communing with God: for now High Mass had begun. The organ poured forth +low muffled sounds of awe and adoration; and Kuba’s soul was full, even +to bursting, of love and ecstatic bliss. + +Suddenly the accents of the priest were audible from the altar, floating +above the bowed heads of the multitude—strange thrilling sounds, and +holy, holy words; and then the bells thundered in a rapid volley, and +the incense rose in odoriferous pillars, wrapping the worshippers in a +sweet-smelling mist. Oh, then Kuba was seized with such blissful rapture +that he could only sigh, and stretch his arms wide, and beat his breast, +swooning almost with the joy of his own nothingness! + +“O Jesus! Jesus whom I love!” he murmured, in dazed annihilation. But he +held the _zloty_ tight in his clenched fist: for now the Elevation was +over, and Ambrose was now coming round with the plate, clinking the +coins thereon to tell of the collection for the church tapers. Kuba +rose, threw his _zloty_ on to the plate, and slowly took back from it a +few kopeks—just as he had seen the farmers doing many a time. And with +infinite delight, he heard Ambrose say: + +“May God reward you!” + +Presently they brought the tapers round, for the Blessed Sacrament was +exposed, and there was to be a procession round the church afterwards. +Kuba put forth his hand, having a great mind for a larger one: but his +eye met the cold reproving glance of Dominikova, who was standing near +him, along with Yagna: so he chose a small taper. This he lit +immediately; for the priest was holding the Monstrance in his hands, and +turning towards the people. Intoning the hymn, the Celebrant slowly +descended the altar-steps and into the lane at once formed for him—a +lane of singers, of flickering lights, and gaudy colours, and droning +voices. The procession began to move, the organ thundered mightily, the +bells joined in with clamorous uproar, and the congregation took up the +chant with voices raised in the grand unison of faith. In front of the +crowd, and of the twinkling sinuous lines of tapers moving on, there +gleamed a silver crucifix; following this came the holy images, dimly +seen through a haze of cambric, and surrounded with flowers and lace and +ornaments of tinsel. The procession arrived at the great church door, +through which the sun irradiated the clouds of incense that it pierced; +and as the banners stooped to pass, the breezes made them float and +flutter and flap, like the wings of some great green and purple birds. + +Round the church the procession went, Kuba sheltering his taper well +with one hand, as he doggedly limped on, close to the priest, over whom +Boryna, the blacksmith, the Voyt, and Thomas Klemba bore a red canopy. +Under this, the golden-rayed Monstrance shot forth its beams, and was so +directly turned to the sun that you could see it shine through the +semi-transparency of the Sacred Host at the centre. + +He was so absorbed that he more than once stumbled or trod upon +someone’s foot. + +“Clumsy one, take heed!” + +“You lame scarecrow, you!” + +But he did not hear these invectives. Grandly the chants resounded, +rising like billows of melody that dashed and broke around that pale +white sun within the Monstrance. The throats of bronze overhead +unceasingly rolled out their sonorous notes into the air, till the +maples and the linden-trees shook their boughs, and now and then some +reddish leaf flew down from their tops, like a frightened bird. And +high, very high above them, over the church steeple and the drooping +trees, a flock of startled doves was wheeling. + + * * * * * + +The service was over, and they all poured into the cemetery round the +church, Kuba amongst the rest. + +Though he knew there would be a feast that day at the farm-house, he was +in no hurry, but stayed to talk with his acquaintances, and gradually +drew near his masters, where Antek and his wife were standing in +conversation with others, as is the custom after High Mass. + +Another group, that had met in the road outside the lich-gate, had for +leader the blacksmith: a stalwart fellow, dressed town-fashion from head +to foot, in a black capote (spotted with drops of wax on the back!), and +a dark-blue cap; he wore his trousers over his boots, and a silver chain +adorned his waistcoat. His face was ruddy, his hair curly, his moustache +red, his talk loud. And his laugh too: his was the smartest wit in all +the village, and when he made a butt of anyone—well, that man’s lot was +not happy. Boryna watched him and listened. He could make out that the +blacksmith spared not even his own people. Was he, then, likely to spare +a father-in-law, with whom he was at odds for his wife’s dowry? But +Boryna could not hear much: Dominikova, just leaving church with Yagna, +now passed in front of him. They did not get on fast, for they stopped +in the churchyard to greet or converse with many people. He heard a few +words about the priest, said by Dominikova in low and pious tones; +meanwhile Yagna looked about her at the people. Having the advantage of +a stature as tall as the tallest there, she was also looked at by many a +farm-hand, who smoked cigarettes and grinned at her from outside the +lich-gate. She was indeed a fine woman, and well dressed, and with such +a bearing that many a country gentleman’s daughter could scarce vie with +her. + +The girls and married women who passed by all gazed on her, either in +envy or simply with the desire of feasting their eyes on her striped +skirt of rich stuff and ever-changing rainbow tints; her black highlows, +laced up with red shoestrings to where the dainty white stockings +appeared; her corset of cherry-coloured velvet, gold-embroidered, +flaming, dazzling; and the strings of amber and coral beads she wore +round her full white throat, whence a bunch of particoloured ribbons +streamed down her back. + +But Yagna took no note of envious looks. Her deep-blue eyes strayed to +and fro, till they met Antek’s, fixed upon her; then she flushed +crimson, and plucked at her mother’s sleeve to go home. + +“Wait a little, Yagna!” the latter called after her, greeting Boryna. + +She could hardly get away, for the farm-hands were now crowding about +her, with salutations and jests—the latter addressed to Kuba, and not +without a sharp tang. For Kuba was following her, and staring as at some +fair picture. With a gesture of contempt, he turned to limp home; his +masters were going that way, and he had to see to the horses. + +“Yes, she’s a picture!” he blurted out, when he had seated himself in +the porch. + +Yuzka was just then bringing the dinner in. “Who’s a picture?” she +asked. + +He cast his eyes down, abashed and afraid lest he should have betrayed +himself. But the dinner was long and abundant; so he soon forgot all +about that. + +They all ate leisurely, with grave miens and in silence, until the edge +of their appetite was blunted, and they could now talk and enjoy their +meal with more dainty zest. + +Yuzka was that day on duty as housewife, and saw to it that the platters +should be always properly supplied, ever and anon bringing more food, +lest the bottom of any dish perchance be seen. + +The porch where they were dining was obviously the best place in such +pleasant weather. Lapa ran to and fro, whining for food, and even rising +up to look into the dishes, till someone threw him a bone. He carried it +off, and barked for joy when his masters called him by name, and jumped +at the sparrows, perched upon the hedge in expectation of crumbs to eat. + +Passers-by merrily wished them joy: to which good wishes they all would +answer with thanks in chorus. + +“I hear you have been taking some birds to his Reverence,” Boryna said. + +“Yes, I have.” And, setting down his spoon, Kuba told how the priest had +invited him into the room, and what a number of big books he had seen +there. + +“When has he time to read them all?” Yuzka wondered. + +“When? Why, of an evening. He walks about the room, and drinks tea, and +is continually reading.” + +“Books of piety they must all be,” Kuba added. + +“What else should they be? Not spelling-books, surely!” + +“He reads the paper the village factor brings him daily,” Hanka added. +And her husband remarked: + +“Yes, for by the papers we know what’s done all the world over.” + +“The smith takes a paper in, and the miller too.” + +“A paper fit for the smith, no doubt,” remarked Boryna, with a sneer. + +“As it happens, the same paper that his Reverence takes in,” was Antek’s +hot retort. + +“You know, then? Have you read it?” + +“Yes, I have ... more than once.” + +“You’ll get none the wiser for his counsels.” + +“And whom do you hold wise? One with seventeen acres, or eight head of +cattle, perhaps?” + +“Hold your tongue before I lose my temper! Always picking quarrels with +me!—You’re too full of bread—_my_ bread!” + +“Aye, so full that like a fishbone it sticks in my throat!” + +“Then seek better bread. Hanka’s three acres will give you rolls!” + +“Potatoes only; but these none will grudge me.” + +“I grudge you nothing.” + +“No? I work like an ox, nor ever get a kind word.” + +“Elsewhere life is easier, and food given free!” + +“Elsewhere it is better, surely.” + +“Then go and try it!” + +“What, empty-handed? Not I!” + +“I’ll give you a staff, to keep the dogs away.” + +“Father!” Antek shouted, starting to his feet, but falling back at once, +for Hanka caught him round the waist. The old man glared at him +fiercely: then, crossing himself as if dinner were over, he went out and +into his room, saying in a hard voice: + +“D’ye think I’ll let myself be pensioned off by you? Never!” + +All rose at once and left the porch, except Antek, who stayed alone +there, pondering. Kuba took the horses to the clover beyond the barn, +and lay down to sleep beside a cornstack. But he could not; the full +meal lay heavy on his chest. Moreover, it now occurred to him that if he +had a gun he could kill birds enough—and, it might be, a leveret or two +into the bargain—to offer every Sunday to his Reverence. + +The smith could forge him a gun. He had made one for the keeper; and +this, when let off in the woods, was plainly heard in the village! + +“A first-rate workman!—But then he wants five roubles to make one!” He +fell into a brown study. + +“Where am I to get them from? Winter is at hand: I must buy me a +sheepskin coat. My boots, too, will not last beyond Yule-tide—Well, +there are due me ten roubles, and two bits of clothing—trousers and a +shirt. A sheepskin coat, short though it may be, will come to five +roubles. Boots, three more. I must get a cap; and a rouble will have to +go besides, for his Reverence to say a mass for my departed. So then +nothing at all will be left!”—He was disappointed, fumbled in his +pockets for a little tobacco that might be left, and so came upon the +ready money he had previously forgotten. + +“Ah! here I have some cash!”—He no longer cared to sleep. From the +tavern there came a far-off sound of music, an echo of shouts, softened +by the distance. + +“There they are—dancing, and drinking vodka, and smoking too!” he +sighed; and, lying down again on his stomach, he glanced over at the +hobbled horses, that had gathered together and were nibbling at each +other’s necks. Then he decided that in the evening he too would go to +the tavern, purchase some tobacco, and just have a look at the dancers. + +From time to time, he would glance at his money, then at the sun, which +was that day going down with exceeding sluggishness, as if it also +needed its Sunday rest. His longing for the tavern was now so great that +he could hardly bear it; but he refrained from going just then, and only +turned over on his side, and groaned within himself. Antek and Hanka had +come out from behind the barn, and were walking along the dividing +pathway between the fields. + +Antek went foremost; Hanka, leading her little boy by the hand, came +after. At times, as they walked on slowly, they spoke a few words. Then +Antek would bend down, and stroke the blades that were sprouting forth. + +“It is growing up.—As thick as the bristles of a brush,” he muttered, +casting his eyes over those acres, sown by himself and for himself: the +wages of work done for his father. + +“Thick, yes: but Father’s corn is better still. It grows up like a +forest,” Hanka said, casting a look on the neighbouring cornfields. + +“The land might be better manured, had we but three cows.” + +“And a horse of our own....” + +“Aye, then we might raise some fowls or things for market. As it is, +what can we do? Father counts every husk of chaff, and thinks a lot of a +potato-peeling.” + +“And taunts us with every morsel he gives!” + +They could speak no more. Their hearts were too full of gall and +bitterness, and the angry gnawing pain of revolt. + +After a time: “Eight acres or thereabouts would be our share, if ...” he +observed, absently. + +“No more. There’s Yuzka, and the smith’s wife, and Gregory and +ourselves,” she counted. + +“If we paid money down to the smith, and kept the hut, and sixteen acres +with it?” + +“But have you the money to pay?” she cried, overwhelmed with a sense of +helplessness; and the tears started to her eyes, as she gazed at her +father-in-law’s fields—that land, precious as pure gold, whereon, aye, +on every inch of it, wheat and rye and barley and beets might be grown. + +“Don’t cry, you silly thing; at any rate, we shall have eight acres of +our own one day.” + +“Oh, if we had but half as many, with the hut and the cabbagepatch!” She +pointed to the long stretch of ground, bluish-green with heads of +cabbages; and they both bent their steps that way. At its edge they sat +down under a bush; Hanka suckled the child, which had begun to cry for +food, while Antek rolled a cigarette, lit it, puffed, and scowled. + +He said not a word to his wife of the pain that was devouring him, and +burned within his heart like coals of fire. For neither could he have +told her, nor she have understood him: as is usual with women, who have +no sort of initiative, who neither reflect nor catch the sense of +things, but who live—so to say—only as the shadows which men throw. + +“But,” Hanka went on to say, “Father has ready money by him, has he +not?” + +“That he has!” + +“Why, he brought Yuzka a coral necklace worth as much as a cow; and he +is always sending money to Gregory through the Voyt.” + +Antek assented, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. + +“It is wronging us all!—And the clothes your mother left! he has them +locked up, nor so much as lets them see the light: skirts and kerchiefs, +caps and beads....” She went on thus a long time, telling of all these +things, and of wrongs done, and grievances, and hopes: but Antek +remained obstinately silent. At last, out of patience, she shook him by +the shoulder: + +“Are you awake?” + +“Aye, and listening. Talk away, it will do you good. And when you have +done, say so.” + +Hanka, who was naturally inclined to weep, and had many a cause for +sadness besides, here burst into tears; he spoke to her, she cried, as +to a girl he scorned: he cared neither for her nor for her child. + +At this, Antek rose to his feet, and replied contemptuously: + +“Lift up your voice: these”—with a toss of his head towards some crows +flying past them—“these will hear and take pity on you!” and, settling +his cap on his head, he made for the village with great strides. + +“Antek! Antek!” she called after him, in sorrow; but he did not even +turn his head. + +With a very heavy heart, she wrapped up the baby, and made for home.—So +he would not let her talk to him about things, or complain of anything. +Oh, he was very friendly, Antek, he was indeed! It was always, Work, +work, work; and, See to this, and to that, and to the other thing; and, +Stay at home! Nothing else! No consideration, no compassion, no +fellowship at all!—Other women enjoyed themselves in the tavern, or went +to a wedding.—But Antek! She knew not what to make of him. Sometimes he +was so gentle, that gentler could not be; but again, and for weeks +together, he would scarce utter a word to her, or give her a glance: it +was think, think, think—all the time. True, he had cause enough.... Why +should not his father make over the land to him now?... It was high time +for the old man to retire and let them keep him.... If he did, she would +take as much care of him as she would of her own father.... + +She would willingly have talked to Kuba; but he leaned back against the +cornstack, pretending to sleep, though the sun was shining straight into +his eyes. And no sooner had she disappeared round the corner of the barn +than he got up, brushed the straw from his clothes, and slowly took his +way by the orchards to the tavern. + +The tavern stood at the farther end of the village, beyond the priest’s +house, at the beginning of the poplar road. + +There were not many people there yet. The music was heard at intervals, +but no one had begun to dance. The lads and lasses preferred to romp in +the orchard, or to stand about the house, or close to the walls, where +plenty of women and girls were sitting on piles of deal logs, still +fresh and yellow from the forest. The biggest room, with its dingy +smoke-tinged rafters, was all but empty; the tiny window-panes, grey +with dust, let so little pass of the red glow of the approaching +sundown, that scarcely any got through to fall on the worn uneven floor; +and in the nooks and corners the dusk was very deep. + +Only Ambrose was there, with a member of the village Confraternity; they +stood, bottle in hand, chatting together close to the window, and +frequently drinking to each other’s health. + +Yagustynka was at the tavern, too, making herself unpleasant to +everyone, and uncompromisingly angry with the whole world, because her +children had treated her ill, and she had in her old age to seek work +away from them. No one, however, answered her invectives; so she made +for the small dark chamber, where the smith was sitting together with +Antek and several other younger men. + +A lamp swung from the murky beams, shedding a dim yellowish light on +heads shaggy with luxuriant blond hair. The men sat in a circle, with +their elbows on the table. All eyes were fixed on the blacksmith, who, +flushed and bending forward, now stretched out his arms, now banged the +table with his fists; but he spoke, nevertheless, in subdued tones. + +Outside, the bass-viols were grumbling, like the humming flight of a +bumble-bee that has got into a room. The violin would suddenly shed +forth strong loud notes, as of a bird calling its mate; or the cymbal +set up a drumming quavering din: and then all would again be quiet. + +Kuba had made straight for the bar, behind which Yankel, the Jewish +tavern-keeper, was sitting, in his skullcap and shirt-sleeves (for the +weather was warm), stroking his grey beard, swaying to and fro, and +reading out of a book he held close to his eyes. + +Kuba, taking thought, came forward step by step, counted his money over, +scratched his head, and then stood still, till Yankel noticed him, and +without interruption in his prayers and swaying motions, jingled the +glasses once or twice. + +“One-eighth of a litre—but no water in it!” was his order at last. + +Yankel silently held his left hand out for the money, and throwing the +verdigris-eaten coins into a tray, inquired: + +“In a glass?” + +“Not in a boot, I suppose!” Kuba returned. Withdrawing to the very end +of the bar, he drank off the first glass, spat on the ground, and looked +round the room; the second dispatched, he held the flask up to the +light, saw it empty, and pounded on the bar with it. + +“Another!—And a packet of tobacco!” he ordered; more boldly now, for the +vodka was filling him with pleasant warmth, and a peculiar sense of +confidence. + +“Got your wages to-day, Kuba?” + +“Not likely. Is it New Year’s Day?” + +“Have a little rum?” + +“No. I don’t care.” He counted his money, and sorrowfully glanced at the +rum-bottle. + +“But I’ll trust you; don’t I know Kuba?” + +“I dare not.—‘Who purchases on trust will soon not have a crust,’” he +answered, dryly. + +Nevertheless, Yankel left the rum-bottle close at his elbow. He wanted +not to take it, and meant to go out; but the rum had such a scent that +he at last gave way, and took a long draught on the impulse of the +moment. + +“This money, did you earn it in the forest?” Yankel inquired, with +patient importunity. + +“Caught birds in a net; gave six to his Reverence. He gave me a +_zloty_.” + +“A _zloty_ for six, did he? Why, I would have given you five kopeks for +each of them.” + +“But—but——” cried Kuba, astounded, “are partridges kosher?” + +“Never mind about that; only bring me lots of them, and for every one +you bring, you will get five kopeks of ready money. And the rum you have +drunk will be thrown into the bargain. Is it well?” + +“What, Yankel! Five kopeks for each?” + +“My word is no idle wind. For those six partridges, Kuba, you would have +got, not two-eighths of a litre of vodka, but four! together with rum, +and a herring, and a roll, and a packet of tobacco. Do you understand?” + +“I do. Half a litre, and a herring, and ... I am not a fool, I can make +it all out.—Quite true—Half a litre, and rum, and tobacco, and rolls, +and one entire herring....” He was by this time somewhat fuddled by the +fumes of the vodka. + +“Will you bring the birds to me, Kuba?” + +“Half a litre, and a herring, and.... Yes, I will.—You see, had I but a +gun,” he continued, his brain now a little clearer; but then he fell to +counting again. “A sheepskin, now, will come to five roubles ... and +boots, too, I need ... three roubles. No, I can’t manage it: the smith +wants five for a gun—as much from me as from Rafal.—No!” He was thinking +out loud. + +Yankel make a swift calculation with a bit of chalk, and then whispered +low in his ear: + +“Could you shoot a doe?” + +“With my fists—how? With a gun I could.” + +“Can you shoot then—properly?” + +“You’re a Jew, Yankel, so you don’t know this: but everybody here knows +I went along with the masters in the last insurrection; that’s how I got +shot in the leg. Oh, yes, yes, I can shoot!” + +“I’ll get you a gun and powder, and whatever you may want. Only, what +you shoot you are to bring to me, Kuba! For a doe, you shall have a +whole rouble. You hear me? a whole rouble! For the powder, you will pay +fifteen kopeks, that I shall deduct for every doe shot. Then, for the +wear and tear of the gun, I shall want half a bushel of oats.” + +“A rouble for a doe? and fifteen kopeks for the powder?... A whole +rouble? How do you make that out?” + +Yankel again went over every particular. Kuba only understood one point. + +“Take oats out of the horses’ mouths?” he said. “That I’m not going to +do.” + +“Why should you? Boryna has oats ... not only in the mangers.” + +“But—but that would be like....” He stared at Yankel, and tried to make +things out. + +“They all do that! Did you never wonder where the farm-hands got all +their money from? How else are they to have their tobacco, and their nip +of vodka, and their dance of Sundays?” + +“How? what? you scurvy fellow! Am I a thief, say?” he suddenly thundered +out, striking on the table with his fist, so that the glasses rang. + +“Ah! Kuba, you’ll fly out at me, will you? Then pay your score and go to +the devil!” + +But he neither paid nor left. He was penniless, and in debt to the Jews +besides. So he only drooped heavily over the bar, in an attempt to make +out the reckoning. And Yankel, growing kind, poured him out some more +rum—pure this time—and said not a word. + +More and more people had by now thronged into the tavern, for the +twilight had deepened, and the lamps were lit. The music sounded to a +quicker measure; the noise waxed loud; the folk formed groups around the +bar, or along the walls, or in the centre of the room. They talked, +gossiped, grumbled; and some drank one to another. But as a rule this +was at rare intervals. For how could they do otherwise? They had not +come to carouse, but only—well, so: to meet in a neighbourly way, and +confabulate, and learn what there was to be learned. It was Sunday, and +there was surely no sin in indulging one’s curiosity a little, and +drinking a few glasses here and there with one’s acquaintances: provided +always it was done seemingly, without offending God. His Reverence +himself did not forbid that. Why, even beasts of burden, for example, +were glad and required to rest after labour! So the elderly husbandmen +sat at the table, and certain of the women, too, in red petticoats and +red kerchiefs, each looking like a hollyhock in bloom. And as all talked +at once, the murmur of voices filled the whole place, like the rustling +of a great wood; and the trampling of feet was as the strokes of flails +beating the wheat upon the threshing-floor: while the fiddle sang out +with a merry tune: + +“_Who will—who will after me?_” they cried, and the bass-viols growled +the reply: + +“_All must follow—follow thee!_” Meanwhile the cymbal, fluttering about +with a sound as of laughter, made a joyful noise with its jingling +little bells. + +There were not many dancers; but these stamped with such lusty goodwill +that the floor creaked, the table rocked, the bottles clinked one +against the other now and then, or even a glass would be knocked over. + +But it was no grand affair after all: the day was one of no special +solemnity, such as a wedding or a betrothal in church. They merely +danced to have a little fun and make their backs and their legs +straighter from the week’s work. Only, there were the lads who were to +be taken into the army towards the end of autumn: those drank deep for +very grief. And no wonder, having so soon to go amongst strangers, and +into a foreign land. + +Of these, the Voyt’s young brother was the noisiest; and after him, +Martin Byalek, Thomas Sikora, Paul Boryna (a first cousin of Antek who +had also come at twilight to the tavern: only that day he did not dance, +but sat in the smaller room with the smith and his companions), and +lastly Franek from the mill, a short, thickset, curly-headed young man: +the greatest talker of them all, a rakish youngster much given to +joking, and so excessively fond of girls that his face was seldom +without a bruise or a scratch. This evening he was quite tipsy to start +with, and stood near the bar now, along with fat Magda (from the +organist’s house), who was six months gone with child. + +The priest had given him public reproof from the pulpit, and urged him +to marry her. But Franek would not obey, because he had to go to the +army in autumn, and what should he do with a wife there? + +Magda now drew him into a corner, and was saying something in a tearful +voice; but he answered as ever: + +“You’re a fool. Did I entice you, say? I’ll pay for the christening, and +give you a rouble or so—as much as I choose to give.” He was stupefied +with drink, and pushed her away so roughly that she sank down on the +ground near Kuba, who was sleeping close to the stove, his head in the +ashes. Then Franek went off to drink again with Ambrose and the farmers, +who were all willing to pay for him, to get their corn ground sooner. + +“Have a drink, Franek, and pray get my stuff ground quick: my wife is +worrying me—says she hasn’t enough flour to make any more dumplings.” + +“Ah! and mine is continually grumbling, because we have no groats.” + +“And mine must have oatmeal for the pig we are fattening.” + +Franek drank, promised everything, and bragged very loud about what he +could do. It was by his orders, he said, that everything was done at the +mill. The miller had to do his will ... and if not! well, he, Franek, +knew of means to cause vermin to breed in the flour-bins—to make the +stream run dry—to kill the fishes till the pond should stink—and rot the +flour, so that it would be good for nothing in the world.... + +“And I, if you did that to me, would pluck the wool off your curly ram’s +head!” cried a voice: it was Yagustynka’s. She was always present where +she found most company, being there most likely to find also some gossip +or kinsman to offer her a drop of vodka, fearing her acrimonious tongue. +Franek too, drunk as he was, felt apprehensive, and answered her not a +word. She knew, indeed, too much about him and his management of the +mill. Triumphant, and also rather flustered with drink, she set her arms +akimbo, and danced and stamped and shouted in time with the music. + +“What I say is true,” the smith in the adjoining room remarked; “for +there it stands, in print in the papers—letters as big as an ox. There +is no nation on earth that lives as we do. Not one!—Why, every big +landowner domineers over us; so does every priest; so does every +official. And all we have to do is work, and starve, and bow low to all +men, lest they strike us in the face!—We have so little land of our own, +that—for many of us—there presently will not be the least little patch +left.... Meanwhile, the Squire has more land to himself than two +villages put together!—Yesterday they were saying in court that there is +to be a redistribution of land.” + +“Whose land?” + +“The gentlemen’s, of course.” + +Yagustynka, who had come in, leaned over the table and laughed. + +“Did you give it them, that you take it away! You are marvellous free +with other people’s property!” + +“Folk have self-government there,” the smith continued, without heeding +the old woman’s interruption. “There, everybody goes to school; they all +live in gentlemen’s houses, and are gentlemen.” + +“Where may that be?” Yagustynka asked of Antek, who sat at the farther +end of the table. + +“In warm countries.” + +“Then,” she screamed out angrily, “why does the smith not go there +himself? The dirty dog! he is throwing dust in your eyes, lying to you +... and you blockheads believe him!” + +“Yagustynka, pray be so good as to go peacefully whence you came.” + +“No, I will not! The tavern is for us all; and I, poor as I am, have as +much right here as you. You play the teacher here! you, who serve the +Jews, who cringe to the officials, who pull off your cap to the Squire +from a mile away! You loud-mouthed ranter, you! Oh, I know of....” She +said no more. The smith had taken her under the ribs, pushed the door +open with his foot, and pitched her into the big room, where she lay +sprawling on the floor. + +Without a word of reviling, she picked herself up, and called out +cheerily: + +“As strong as a horse, you are! I’d fain have such a husband!” + +The folk burst into a guffaw, and she went out to curse in silence and +alone. + +By this time the tavern had begun to empty; the music had ceased, and +the people were going home. The night was warm and the moon shone +bright: no one stayed but the recruits, who shouted and drank their +fill, and Ambrose, who, being exceeding mellow, had rushed into the +middle of the road, singing and reeling, from one side to the other. + +The knot of men who had the blacksmith for leader had also left the +place. + +The recruits too, a little later, when Yankel was putting out the +lights, staggered forth, all arm in arm, and went down the road, bawling +songs and howling and bellowing so that the dogs bayed at them. + +Kuba alone remained, so fast asleep in the ashes, that Yankel had to +awaken him. He would not rise, though, but kicked out, and aimed blows +in the air. + +“Off, Jew!” he stammered. “I will sleep as I choose. A tiller of the +land am I; and you—you are a scurvy rascal and a villain!” + +A pail of water sobered him so much that he rose, and with astonishment +and dismay, learned that, having drunk a whole rouble’s worth, he was in +Yankel’s debt for that amount. + +“What! a quarter of a litre, rum, one herring, tobacco, and another +quarter besides: can they make up a rouble? How’s that?” His brain was +swimming. + +Yankel, however, at last convinced him, and they came to an +understanding about the gun which the Jew was to supply; although Kuba +was firm in refusing to give him the oats demanded. + +“My father was not a thief; neither am I.” + +“Now go away, Kuba; it is time, and I have still some prayers to say.” + +“Hear the old hypocrite! Asking a man to steal, and saying his prayers +on the top of that!” he muttered, as he walked homewards, trying to +remember things and sift them clear: for somehow he could not believe he +had drunk a whole rouble’s worth. But he was not yet sober, and the cold +night air made him dizzy; so he reeled and staggered along, now falling +against the hedges, now against the logs of timber piled up outside the +huts. He swore. + +“May the devil wring your necks for cumbering the road so, rascals! You +must have been tipsy when you did it. Yes, drunken wretches! and his +Reverence’s warnings have been all for naught.... His Reverence....” +Here reflection came to him; he realized the condition he was in, and +felt overwhelmed with contrition. He stopped short, looking about him +for some hard thing that might be handy. Then he forgot about that, and +clutched at his shaggy mane, and beat his face with his fists. + +“You drunken wretch, you plague-stricken swine! I will drag you before +his Reverence, and he will rebuke you in presence of the whole +congregation, and say you are a dog, and a miserable drunkard; you have +drunk half a litre of vodka—a whole rouble’s worth—and are a beast, +worse than a beast!”—A sudden wave of self-compassion then came over +him; he sat down in the road and burst into tears. + +The moon, large and splendid, was floating through the dark space; like +silver nails in the firmament, a few stars shone, sparsely scattered +about; a thin grey tissue of mist hung over the pond like a veil, and +waved its folds above the village. The world had entered into that +unfathomable quiet of the autumn night, save that the few who were going +home sang as they went, and dogs were heard to bark now and then. + +Also, upon the road in front of the tavern, Ambrose, still reeling from +one side to the other, quavered forth his song: + + “Tell, Marysia mine, + Tell, O best and truest, + Tell whose ale thou brewest, + Tell, Marysia mine!” + +which he repeated with interminable reiteration, until such time as the +effects of his potations should cease. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + +Autumn was growing ever more and more autumnal. + +The pale days passed, dragging themselves over the empty soundless +fields, and died away beyond the forest, always stiller, always paler, +like the Sacred Host in the glimmer of a taper that is going out. + +And every dawn the morning came more and more sluggishly, benumbed, as +it were, by the cold of the hoarfrosts, and the sorrowful stillness and +the life ebbing out of the land. The sun, dim, shorn of its beams, came +blossoming forth from the depths; and crows and daws that had started up +from somewhere in the East flew circling round its disk: they skimmed +over the fields in long low flight, and croaked with dull mournful +voices. Following them, the wind swept along, bitter and bleak, ruffling +the stirred waters, burning up all that was left of greenery, and +tearing away the last dead leaves from the poplars on the roads: these +fell slowly, like trickling tears—tears of blood, shed by the summer as +it lay dying. + +And every dawn, the villages woke up somewhat later, the cattle went to +graze with more slothful steps, the barn-doors swung open with less +stridulous creaking; men’s voices seemed muffled as they sounded in the +deathly void of the fields, and their very life beat now with fainter +pulsations. From time to time, they appeared outside their cabins or out +in the country, and, suddenly stopping, peered for a long time into the +livid murky distance. Or mighty horned heads would be sometimes raised +from the grass of the yellow pastures; and as they slowly chewed the +cud, their eyes would likewise go staring far, far away, while at +intervals a hollow lowing would resound through the desolate waste. + +And every dawn, it grew colder, darker; the smoke floated lower above +the bare orchard trees, and more birds came swarming into the village to +take shelter near the granaries. Crows perched on the ridges of the +roofs or on the bare boughs, or flitted along close to the ground, +croaking hoarsely—singing, as it were, the dismal song of approaching +winter. + +Noontide was sunny as a rule: but so silent! The murmuring of the woods +was heard afar as a faint whisper, and the rippling of the river sounded +like sobs of pain. The stillness of that noontide had something of death +in it; and on the unfrequented ways and in the leafless orchards there +lurked a profound sadness, mingled with a sense of shrinking from what +was to come. + +The ploughing was nearly over, and some finished their work, ending the +last furrow when it was already dark, and looking back at the fields as +they went home, wishing and longing for next spring to arrive soon. + +Often, before evening set in, chilly rains would fall; and these, as +time went on, continued even till twilight—that long autumn twilight +when the cabin windows would shine flaming like golden blossoms, and the +pools in the deserted roads glistened as glass—and even till the cold +wet wind of the night flung its drops against the panes and moaned among +the orchard trees. + +One broken-winged stork that had remained perforce, and was often seen +stalking about the meadows, now began to draw near to Boryna’s +cornstacks, and Vitek took delight in attracting it by giving it food. + +_Dziads_,[12] too, now passed through the village more and more +frequently; not only those of the usual kind, who went from house to +house with their cavernous wallets and their lengthy prayers, and at +whose approach the house-dogs always fell a-baying; but also certain +others of a very different sort. These had travelled much and far, to +many holy places; they knew Chenstohova, and Ostrobrama, and Kalvarya +well, and in the long evenings they would willingly entertain the +village folk by tales of what was going on in the world, and the strange +things done in foreign parts. And there were even some who told of the +Holy Land, and related such marvels about the vast seas they had +crossed, and the adventures which had befallen them, that the people +listened in pious amazement, and more than one could scarcely believe +that such things could be. + +----- + +Footnote 12: + + _Dziad_ signifies in Polish a grandfather, an old man, or an + ancestor, but is now mostly used to mean a beggar of a special + type.—_Translator’s Note._ + +Ah, it was autumn, late autumn now! + +Neither rollicking songs, nor merry shouts, nor even the chirruping of +little birds, could be heard in the village any more: only the blast +howling over the thatched roofs, the icy rain pouring glass-like films +down the rattling panes, and the quick dull thudding of the flails on +the threshing-floors, which grew daily louder and louder. + +It was indeed Autumn, the mother of Winter. + +One comfort there was. Hitherto the weather had not been really bad, and +the roads had not yet softened into bogs; so possibly it might hold +until the fair, to which, as to a village fête, all Lipka was presently +going. + +It was to take place on St. Cordula’s day and, it being the last fair +previous to Yule-tide, everybody had made preparations. + +Many days before, the great question, What ought to be sold? had been +debated: whether cattle, or corn, or some livestock of the smaller kind. +It would also be needful, since winter was coming on, to make purchases; +and those to no small amount. Thence arose not a few bickerings and +tiffs and jars in the families: all knew that no one had much money to +spare, and cash was harder to get every day. + +Besides, it was just then that the taxes had to be paid, and the +communal rates too, and various sums to be laid out, borrowed money to +be returned in many cases, and not infrequently, the servants’ wages +were due. So that more than one owner (even of seventeen acres!) was +sometimes in straits to know what he had better do. + +And so, some took a cow out of the byre, cleansed her dung-plastered +sides with straw, gave her plenty of clover for the night, or a mess of +barley boiled with potatoes, and did all they could to fatten her up a +little; while others experimented with some blind old jade, completely +worthless, endeavouring to make it look at least something like a horse. + +And others in order to have their corn ready in time, were busily +threshing it all day long. + +At Boryna’s, too, all were working amain. Aided by Kuba, the old man +threshed out all his wheat, while Yuzka and Hanka employed every leisure +moment in fattening the sow, or such of the geese as they had selected +for sale. And, as rain was expected at any moment, Antek went time and +again to the wood with Vitek, to get dry boughs and brushwood for fuel +and litter: of this, some went to the cow-house, and the rest to make a +warm outer coating for the hut. + +This forced spell of work was kept up till late the last evening before +the fair; and it was not until the wheat, all in sacks upon the cart, +had been wheeled into the barn, and everything was quite ready for the +morrow, that they all sat down together to supper in Boryna’s cabin. + +The fire was leaping merrily up the chimney, and by its light they ate +with leisurely decorum and in silence; but when the meal was over, and +the womenfolk had cleared away pots and pans, Boryna drew a little +closer to the fire and said: + +“We shall have to start ere day breaks.” + +“Certainly, not a whit later,” Antek replied, and set to greasing the +harness, while Kuba was engaged in whittling a swipple for his flail; +and Vitek, occupied in peeling potatoes for next morning’s meal, +nevertheless found means to play with Lapa, who lay close by and +searched for fleas. + +Nothing was heard for some time but the crackling of the logs, the +shrill cry of crickets beside the hearth, the splashing of water outside +the room, and the clinking of pots and dishes. + +“Kuba, do you intend to remain in my service next year?” + +He let his knife drop, and gazed so long and steadily into the fire that +Boryna asked him whether he had heard the question. + +“Heard it? I have: but I was thinking.—Truly, you have not treated me +ill in any wise.... Only——” Here he broke off in some confusion. + +“Yuzka! Bring vodka and a bit of something.—Are we like Jews, to be dry +when we do business?” + +Thus he gave his order, and drew a bench closer to the fire. Yuzka +presently brought in a bottle and a loaf and a string of sausages, and +set them on the bench. + +“Drink, Kuba, drink, and say your say.” + +“Thanks, master.—Well, I’d like to stay, but ... but....” + +“Some increase of wages, perhaps?” + +“It were good. For see, my sheepskin coat is all in rags. So are my +boots; and I need a capote besides. If I go to church as I am, I must +stay in the porch. How can I stand before the altar in such a dress?” + +“Yes,” Boryna sternly put in, “the other Sunday you did not care: you +pushed and thrust yourself to where the foremost were standing!” + +“It is true.... Yes, but ...” he stammered, greatly abashed and flushing +crimson. + +“And his Reverence himself teaches us that the elders ought to be +respected.—Now, Kuba, drink to a good understanding between us, and +hearken to what I say. You know very well that a farm-hand is not a +farmer. Everyone has his place, given to him by our Lord. To you also +hath the Lord Jesus given yours. Keep it therefore, do not push forward, +nor set yourself above other folk, for this were a grievous sin. His +Reverence will tell you the very same thing. It must be so, else there +would be no order in the world.—Do you follow me?” + +“I am not a brute beast, and know what words mean.” + +“Well, then, see to it that you do not set yourself above anyone.” + +“But my only desire was to be nearer God’s altar!” + +“In whatsoever nook you are, God will hear you: fear nothing. Also, why +should you thrust yourself amongst the foremost, since all here know +you?” + +“You are right, very right. If I were a farmer, I should bear the canopy +and support his Reverence, and sit on a bench, and sing aloud out of a +book. But,” he concluded, with a sigh, “being only a labourer—though a +husbandman’s son, mind you!—it behoves me to stand in the vestibule, or +outside in the porch, like a dog.” + +“So is it ordained throughout the world, and you will not change it by +taking thought.” + +“Without doubt I shall not.” + +“Take another drop, Kuba, and say what increase of wages you would +have.” + +Kuba took the vodka. Now, as he was already somewhat flustered, he +presently felt as in the tavern, with Michael (from the organist’s) or +any other boon companion at his side, whom he could talk with freely and +joyously, as an equal. So he undid a button or two of his capote, +stretched out his legs, struck the bench with his fist, and cried out: + +“Four paper roubles more, with a silver one besides, and I’ll stay with +you!” + +“You’re drunk or mad, I fancy,” was Boryna’s protest; but Kuba, now +fairly started in pursuit of what he wished and dreamed for, never heard +his master’s words. His imagination was no longer under control, his +mind began to take wings, his self-assurance to grow great, and he felt +himself as high and mighty as any farmer might feel. + +“Yes. Four paper roubles more, and one other as earnest money, and I’ll +stay. If not, then, curse it! I’ll go to the fair. There I shall find +service, were it only as a coachman at some manor. They know me—know I +am honest, and able to do any farm work, afield or in the house; many a +farmer might learn a good deal of me, how I tend the cattle.—Or else.... +I know how to shoot, and can get birds for his Reverence, or for +Yankel.... Or else....” + +“See him!” the old man roared; “behold how grandly this lame one is +prancing!” + +The insult effectually sobered Kuba, and roused him from his dreamings. +He said no more of what he could do; but held doggedly none the less to +what he had said. Boryna had to give way by half a rouble or one _zloty_ +at a time, and ended by agreeing to give him three roubles more, and a +couple of shirts in lieu of earnest money. + +“Ho! Ho! what a fellow you are!” he said, as he drank with him to clinch +the agreement, though he was angry at having to spend so much. All the +same he thought Kuba was worth it, and more. A man as good as two for +hard work; scrupulously honest besides, and more heedful of the beasts +he tended than of himself; one, moreover, so well acquainted with +husbandry that he could be relied on both to do his duty, and to see +that the others did theirs. + +After settling two or three minor points, Kuba was about to leave. At +the door, however, he turned round, and spoke in faltering tones: + +“The agreement is made, then: three roubles and a couple of shirts. But +... but.... I beseech you, don’t sell the filly. I saw her into the +world, and spread my sheepskin over her, lest she should die of cold.... +I could never bear to see her ill-used, perhaps by a Jew!... A horse is +so docile, a man is nothing beside it.... Please don’t sell her!” + +“I never thought of doing such a thing.” + +“Folk talked of it in the tavern, and I heard.” + +“Meddlesome dogs and busybodies! They always know best what is to be +done.” + +Kuba was so delighted that, had he dared, he would have embraced his +master’s knees. He made the best of his way to bed, for it was late, and +there was the fair on the morrow. + + * * * * * + +Next day, before the cock had crowed twice, every highway and by-way +towards Tymov was thronged with people wending their way thither. + +There had been a heavy rain ere morning. In the East it had cleared up a +little, but the sky was threatening, with many a dun-coloured cloud. +Over the low-lying fields crept fogs, dripping wet and grey as coarse +canvas; and the pathways glistened with many a pool. + +They had set out from Lipka at early dawn. + +All along the poplar-planted road beyond the church and as far as the +forest stretched a chain of slowly-rolling wagons, one close after +another; and either side of the highway was variegated by a line of red +petticoats and white capotes. + +The multitude was so great that all the village seemed to be there. + +The poorer husbandmen went on foot; so did the women and the farm-hands +and the lasses. So, too, did some common labourers and inferior workers, +this being the fair at which service was taken or changed. + +Some went to buy, and some to sell, and some just to enjoy the fair. + +One man led a cow or a big calf by a rope; one drove a flock of shorn +sheep in front of him; another walked behind a sow with her little ones, +or a lot of white geese, with their wings tied; another trotted by, +riding a sorry nag; while from under many an apron the red comb of a +cock peered forth.—The wagons and carts, too, were well laden. Often, +from the basketwork and straw within one of them, a hog’s snout would +appear, squealing clamorously, till the geese gaggled in consternation, +and the dogs that ran to market by their masters’ sides, barked in +chorus. + +But Boryna only left his cabin when the day had fully risen, and the sky +had quite cleared. Hanka and Yuzka had started before him at the very +break of day, with the sow and the fatted pig; and Antek had taken ten +sacks of wheat and fifty pounds of red clover-seed in the cart. Kuba +alone had remained at home, with Vitek, and old Yagustynka, hired to +cook the dinner and milk the cows. + +Vitek, who wanted to go to the fair, was blubbering noisily outside the +cow-house. + +“What is the matter with the fool?” Boryna grunted; and making the sign +of the Cross, he started off on foot, expecting that someone would give +him a lift by the way. Which also came to pass; for just beyond the +tavern the organist, who was driving in a britzka with a couple of lusty +horses, caught up with him. + +“What, Matthias, are you on foot?” + +“Aye, stretching my legs.—Praised be Jesus Christ!” + +“For ever!” the organist’s wife answered. “Jump up; there is room for +you.” + +“Many thanks. I should have walked, but, as the saying is: ‘They that +ride in a cart are ay joyful at heart’”—and he sat down on the front +seat, with his back to the horses. + +“And so young Yanek is not at school now? How’s that?” he inquired of a +lad who was driving, and sitting in front with a farm-hand. + +“Oh, I’m only just here for the fair!” he sang out in reply. He was the +organist’s son. His father said, tapping a box which he held out to +Boryna: “French snuff: take a pinch.” They both did so, and both sneezed +solemnly. + +“Well, how goes it with you? Selling anything to-day?” + +“Nothing much. Wheat sent earlier, and a pig, taken by the girls.” + +“Not bad, not bad at all!” the organist’s wife exclaimed. “Yanek, put +this comforter on: it is chilly.” + +“Oh, I am all right,” he answered; but she insisted on his putting it +on. + +“But,” Boryna pointed out, “think of my expenses; I can scarce pay my +way.” + +“Matthias, do not complain; you have no reason to. Thank God that you +have enough.” + +Boryna, not liking to be thus reproved in the presence of a hired man, +leaned forward hastily, and whispered: + +“Is Yanek to remain at school much longer?” + +“Only till Easter.” + +“And after? Is he to stay at home, or become an official?” + +“My good man, what should he be doing at home? We have lots of children, +and only fifteen acres. And times are hard—hard as stones!—There are +christenings in plenty indeed; but what do we get from them?” + +“On the other hand,” Boryna satirically remarked, “there is no lack of +funerals.” + +“And what do funerals bring us? Nobody dies but poor people. A farmer’s +burial, really worth something to us, comes only once or twice a year.” + +“And votive masses,” she added, “are ever more seldom, and people +bargain for them like Jews!” + +“That,” Boryna explained, “is on account of present hard times, and +poverty.” + +“Also because men now think less of their salvation, and of the duty to +help poor souls in purgatory!” + +The organist here added: “And we get less from the manors as well. +Formerly, when on our rounds at harvest-time, or offering wafers, or at +Yule-tide, or with our lists of parishioners newly made up, we used to +go straight to the manor, where they grudged us neither corn, nor money, +nor flour for pastry. And now, good heavens! all have grown so stingy +that, if one offers us a little sheaf of rye, it must have been gnawed +by mice; and if a bushel of oats, it will be chaff for the greater part. +Had we not a bit of land, we should have to beg our bread,” he +concluded, holding out his snuff-box to Boryna. + +“True, true,” the latter replied, though under no delusion. He well knew +the organist had money, some in the bank, some out at interest, and +profitably lent to farm-hands. So he only smiled to hear his +lamentations, and once more asked about Yanek. + +“Are you going to make a Government clerk of him?” + +“Of him? My Yanek—a Government official? I have not denied myself bread +for him that the poor boy should have to finish his classes. No, no; he +shall be a priest.” + +“What, a priest?” + +“Aye, why not? Shall he lose aught thereby? Whom does it hurt to become +a priest?” + +“No one. No one, certainly,” he answered with deliberation, looking +respectfully over his shoulder at the young fellow. “It is an honour. +And also, as the saying is: ‘A priest’s kith and kin will never grow +thin.’” + +“They said that Staho, the miller’s son, was to enter the seminary; but +I hear he is now at a college, studying medicine.” + +“Ah! such an evil-liver, a priest! Why, my servant Magda is six months +with child—and by him!” + +“By the miller’s man, they say.” + +“No. His mother says so, but it is only to screen him. Oh, such a +profligate!... God forbid!... As a physician, he’ll do very well.” + +Boryna said: “Yes, yes, a priest’s vocation is by far the best,” and +continued to humour her, tactfully listening to her gossip, while the +organist would many a time lift his cap, answering “For ever!” to the +greetings of those he passed by. They went at a good trot; Yanek drove +splendidly, threading his way among the wagons and people and livestock +upon the road, till they got to the forest, where the crush was not so +great, and the road wider. + +There they came up with Dominikova, who was going with Yagna and Simon, +and a cow tied by the horns to the cart, from which, hissing like so +many adders, the white necks of some ganders protruded. + +They greeted each other, and Boryna went so far, when the wagons were +abreast, as to lean forwards, and say: “You will be late!” + +“Oh, we’ve time in plenty!” Yagna laughed in reply. + +When they had been passed, the organist’s son looked round at her +several times, and asked at last: + +“Is that Dominikova’s Yagna?” + +“The same, yes,” Boryna returned, with his eyes upon her, a good way +behind already. + +“I was not sure: it is a good couple of years since I last saw her.” + +“Ah, she was then tending kine. She’s very young still; but she has +grown as stout as a clover-fed heifer.” + +“Aye, aye; comely she is; so well-favoured that every week messengers +are sent to her with vodka—and a proposal.” + +“But she’ll none of them. The old woman thinks,” the organist’s wife +whispered spitefully, “that a steward may come for her, and drive all +the peasants away.” + +“Well, she would do, even for the wife of a thirty-five acres’ farmer.” + +“O Matthias, if you think so much of the lass, send proposers to her +yourself,” she said with a laugh. Thenceforward Boryna spoke not one +word. + +“You town-bred riff-raff, here become a big personage—who look under the +tail of every peasant’s hen to see if there are eggs for you—who seek +for money in every peasant’s fist—will you make a mock of me, a +husbandman born! You leave Yagna alone!” So he thought, and looked +straight in front of him, in a very ill humour indeed, at Dominikova’s +cart, bright with the gleams of aprons thrown over kerchiefs, and now +rapidly dropping astern; for Yanek was flogging the horses vigorously, +and their hoofs made great holes in the mud. + +The good woman went on talking, but to no purpose. Boryna only nodded, +or mumbled indistinctly, and stubbornly refrained from any utterance +whatever. + +And no sooner had they reached the unspeakable pavement of the little +town, than he got down, with thanks for the lift. + +“We shall be returning about nightfall,” she said, and asked whether he +would care to go back with them. + +“Very much obliged to you,” he replied, “but I have horses of my own. +People would jest—say I was applying for the post of organ-blower or +assistant; and I can’t sing a note or learn how to use an extinguisher!” + +They went down a by-street, and he walked with swift steps up a main +one, till he got to the market-place. It was a first-class fair, and the +streets were already pretty well crowded. All the thoroughfares, +squares, lanes and court-yards were full of people and vehicles and all +sorts of country produce, like a flood into which human rivers were +constantly flowing, with dense waves rolling through the narrow alleys +and seeming about to bring the houses down, until it poured into the +great square near the monastery. On the way townwards, there had been +relatively little mud; but here, trodden and trampled by thousands of +feet, it was ankle-deep, splashing in every direction from under the +wheels of the carts. + +Every instant, the din grew louder. Nothing could be heard distinctly +save a cow bellowing now and then, a barrel-organ accompanying the +merry-go-round, the obstreperous wailing of _Dziads_, or the +ear-splitting whistles of basket-makers. + +Truly, it was a very big fair, so crowded that one could scarce make +one’s way forwards; and by the time that Boryna had reached the main +square, he had to push and elbow a passage by main force amongst the +stalls. + +And the things that were there! They could not be told or even +conceived. How, then, is it possible to describe them? + +And, first, those lofty canvas booths, which stood in front of the +convent in two rows, all of them devoted to articles for women’s use: +pieces of linen cloth, and kerchiefs, suspended from poles, and all of +them as scarlet as scarlet poppies, making the eyes ache; and then, +close by, another booth hung with the same wares, but all of the purest +yellow; and another, again, of the deep crimson of the beetroot.... But +who could remember all these things? + +Lasses and women stood there in such serried crowds that there was not +room, as they say, to thrust a stick in amongst them—some bargaining and +choosing; and some only looking on, gloating over those things of +beauty! + +Farther, there were stalls that positively blazed with beads, +looking-glasses, tinsel ornaments, and ribbons and flowers—green and +golden and many-coloured—and caps too ... and the Lord knows what +besides! + +Elsewhere, the sellers of holy images had set them forth in glazed and +gilded frames, so gloriously brilliant that (although they only stood +ranged along the walls, or even lay along the ground) more than one +peasant would take his hat off and make the sign of the Holy Cross. + +Boryna bought Yuzka the kerchief he had promised her in spring, and +withdrew, pushing his way onwards to the swine-market beyond the +monastery. He made but slow progress, owing both to the terrible crush +and to the many interesting objects which he saw. + +The capmakers, for instance, had put up wide ladders in front of their +shops, and embellished these with caps from top to bottom. + +The bootmakers had formed a real lane with trestles and horses, from +which endless rows of boots dangled, suspended by the lugs: some of the +common sort—tawny and only requiring to be greased lest the water should +get in; some, lustrous with blacking like varnish; some, women’s boots, +high-heeled, red-laced, and beautifully polished. + +Farther were the saddlers’ stalls, superb with horse-collars and +harnesses hanging in festoon from many a peg. + +Then came the booths of the rope-makers, of them that sold nets, and of +the itinerant sieve-venders; of those whose trade was to go from fair to +fair with groats for sale; and of the wheelwrights and of the tanners. + +Elsewhere, tailors and furriers had set forth their respective goods, +the latter pungent in the nostrils with the spices used to preserve +them; and they, since winter was coming on, had customers not a few. + +After these came rows of tables sheltered under canvas roofs, displaying +enormous coils of russet-hued sausages, as thick as a ship’s +mooring-rope; and piles of yellow fat and grease, brown flitches of +smoked bacon, whole sides of fat salt pork, and hams by scores, rose in +multitudinous tiers: while at other stalls, entire carcasses of hogs +were hooked up, wide-opened, gaping, and so dripping with blood that the +dogs gathered round, and had to be driven away. + +Close by the butchers were their brethren of the baking-oven; and on +thick layers of straw, on wagons, upon tables and in baskets, and +wheresoever they could be placed, lay monstrous piles of loaves, each as +large as a small cart-wheel. Cakes, too, were there, glazed over with +yellow egg-yolks; and little rolls, and great ones as well. + +Nor were stalls for playthings wanting. Some were made of gingerbread, +in the shape of many a kind of beast, of soldiers, and hearts—and +strange forms, whose meaning no one could make out. At other stalls you +could have seen almanacs, prayer-books, tales about robbers and fierce +_Magielons_;[13] at others, cheap whistles, mouth-organs, singing-birds +of baked clay, and similar musical instruments were to be bought, on +which those “Jew rascals” who sold them made such a row as was hardly to +be borne; for the birds chirped, the trumpets blew, the whistles +squeaked with long-drawn shrillness, and the little kettledrums at times +joined in, beating a tattoo: and the uproar was enough to split any +man’s head. + +----- + +Footnote 13: + + _Magielon_, probably from “Magellan,” means a wild adventurer, the + hero of some tale of derring-do.—_Translator’s Note._ + +But in the centre of the market-place, under the trees, coopers, tinmen +and earthenware dealers had made up a group apart. There were so many +pots, pans, pipkins and porringers that it was no easy thing to get +past. Beyond these were stationed the joiners, with a show of painted +bedsteads and chests, wardrobes, and tiers of shelves, and tables. + +Now, in every place—upon the carts, along the walls, in the gutters, +and, in short, wherever they found room—saleswomen were sitting: with +onions in strings, or in baskets; with cloth fabrics and petticoats of +their own making; with eggs, cheeses, mushrooms, pats of butter of +oblong shape and wrapped in a linen cloth. Some had potatoes to sell, +some a couple of geese, or a fowl already plucked and drawn; others, +flax fibres finely combed out, or skeins of spun flaxen thread. Each of +them sat by her wares and chatted pleasantly with her neighbour, as folk +are wont to do at the fair. And when a purchaser appeared, they dealt +with him quietly, gravely, leisurely, as decent peasant people: not like +those Jews, who quarrel and scream and push one another, as though they +were out of their minds. + +Amid carts and booths, smoke was seen here and there curling up from +sheet-iron stoves. Here they sold hot tea. At others, there were +eatables: fried sausages, cabbage, _barszcz_[14] and boiled potatoes. + +----- + +Footnote 14: + + _Barszcz_—pronounced “barshch”—a soup made of sour + beetroots.—_Translator’s Note._ + +Everywhere, _Dziads_ were about in vast swarms: the blind, the halt, the +dumb; cripples with never an arm, cripples with never a leg: just as at +a local village fête. They played hymn tunes on tiny kits they held, or +sang godly songs, clinking money in their wooden bowls. From the +house-walls, from among the wagons, from the mud-deluged street, they +all came to beg timidly, and implore a trifle in money or in kind. + +On all this did Boryna gaze, not infrequently with admiration, as he +exchanged a few words with acquaintances whom he met. At last he got to +the swine-market, which was beyond the monastery: a very large space of +sandy ground, with a few houses sprinkled here and there. Close to the +monastery garden wall, and shaded by many a huge oak-tree that stretched +out its branches over the wall, still covered with withered leaves, were +grouped a good many people and carts, together with a large number of +swine brought to the fair for sale. + +He soon saw Hanka and Yuzka, who stood at the outside of the group. + +“Have you sold, hey?” + +“Oh, the butchers have been here already to bargain for the sow; but +they offer too little.” + +“Are swine dear?” + +“Dear? Not at all. So many have come, and the buyers are too few.” + +“Anybody from Lipka?” + +“The Klembas have brought some small pigs; and Simon, Dominikova’s son, +has one too.” + +“Well, be as quick as you can, that you may enjoy the fair.” + +“We have enough of waiting already.” + +“How much will they give for the sow?” + +“Thirty paper roubles. They say she is not well fed; big bones, but no +fat on them.” + +“That’s the biggest of lies! She has four fingers’ thickness of fat!” he +cried, feeling the sow’s back and sides. “The young pig is not fat on +the sides, but then its hams are well clad,” he added, driving it out of +the wet sand where it was wallowing and half buried. + +“Sell at thirty-five. I shall just see Antek, and come back to you +directly.—Haven’t you a mind to eat?” + +“Our bread is eaten already.” + +“I’ll buy you a bit of sausage besides. Only get a good price for the +pigs.” + +“Father, won’t you think of buying me the kerchief you promised last +spring?” + +Boryna put his hand to his bosom, but stopped, as though struck with +some idea, took out his hand again, and waved it, saying merely: + +“You shall have it, Yuzka.” + +Instantly he moved off, for he had descried Yagna’s face amongst the +wagons; but before he got to her, she had disappeared, and was nowhere +to be seen. So he went in search of Antek: no easy task, for the street +from the swine-market to the great square was so thronged with carts, +one after another and several abreast, that one could drive past only +with the greatest care and difficulty. + +However, he happened upon him at once, sitting on the sacks of wheat, +and flicking with his whip at the Jews’ poultry, which came running +about near the bags out of which the horses were eating, while he made +surly replies to the bargainers. + +“I said seven, and seven it shall be.” + +“I give six and a half: the wheat is damaged.” + +“You scurvy dog! let me but fetch a blow at your ugly face, and it will +be damaged enough: but my wheat is as good as good can be.” + +“Perhaps; but it’s damp.... I’ll take it by measure, and at six roubles +five _zloty_.” + +“No. By weight, and at seven.—I have said.” + +“But, my good farmer, why so angry? Buying or not buying, one may always +try to bargain.” + +“Then bargain away, if it amuses you.” And he paid no more heed to the +Jews, who came opening the sacks one after another, to examine the +wheat. + +“Antek, I am just going to the scrivener’s. I shall be back in the +twinkling of an eye.” + +“What? With your complaint against the manor-folk?” + +“Think you I’ll not resent the wrong done me?” + +“Just get hold of the keeper, fasten him to a pine-trunk, and cudgel him +till his ribs clatter: then you’ll have justice done!” + +“Aye, and serve him right too; but the manor-folk must come in for their +share,” he answered in a hard voice. + +“Hand me over a _zloty_.” + +“What for?” + +“To drink a drop and eat a bit.” + +“Always looking into your father’s purse! Have you no money of your +own?” + +Antek, furious, turned his back on his father, whistling derisively; and +the old man, though very unwillingly, pulled out a _zloty_ and gave it +to him. + +“Yes; coin your blood to money, and give it away to all!” he thought, as +he pushed his way towards a large tavern at the corner, where many +guests had come to eat. The scrivener lived in a tiny room in the +court-yard. Clad only in his shirt, unwashed, unkempt, but with a cigar +in his mouth, he was then sitting at a table near the window.—On a +mattress in the corner a woman lay, with a greatcoat over her. + +“Sit down, my good man!” He tossed some garments on to the floor off a +chair which he offered to Boryna, who presently explained the whole +business to him in detail. + +“As sure as a Pater ends with Amen, you’ll get a verdict in your favour! +What! A cow dead, and the boy frightened into an illness! We are bound +to win!” He rubbed his hands, and looked about the table for some paper. + +“But the boy is quite well.” + +“All the same, he might have fallen ill: the keeper gave him a beating.” + +“Not him, but a neighbour’s cowherd.” + +“A pity; that would have been still better. But we shall word it so that +it may seem both that the cow died, and that the boy had an illness. Let +the manor-folk pay!” + +“Surely. I want nothing but justice.” + +“I’ll draw up your complaint instantly.—Franka, you sluggard!” he cried, +kicking the woman on the mattress so hard that she lifted up her tousled +head. “Fetch us vodka and something to eat!” + +“I have not one kopek, Gutek; and they’ll give us nothing on trust, you +know,” she grumbled, and, rising from her disorderly couch, yawned and +stretched herself. She was a big woman, with a drunkard’s face, bruised +and bloated, but the thin reedy voice of a baby. + +The scrivener set to work, with noisy pen scratching the paper. He +puffed at his cigar, blowing the smoke into Boryna’s face, as the latter +was looking on. Now and then he paused to rub his freckled hands and +turn his haggard pimply face towards Franka. He wore a great black +moustache; his front teeth were broken, his lips livid. + +The complaint was soon made out. It cost a rouble, and another for the +stamp; and he agreed to present it at the court for three more. + +Boryna willingly allowed the expenses incurred, feeling sure that the +manor would have to pay them, with heavy damages besides. + +“There must be justice in the world!” he cried, on departing. + +“If we don’t win in the Communal Court, we shall try the Assembly; if +not there, why then, the District Court, and then the Judgment Chamber: +I won’t give in.” + +“Why should I abandon what is mine?” he said, with fierce obstinacy. +“And to whom? To those manor-folk, owners of forests and of fields +without end? No!” + +Such thoughts were filling his mind, as he went forth into the +market-place: but just as he passed the capmakers’ stalls, he met with +Yagna. + +There she stood, with one dark-blue cap on her head, cheapening another. + +“See here, Matthias! this ‘yellow one’[15] would have me believe this is +a good cap: but no doubt he is lying.” + +----- + +Footnote 15: + + _Yellow one._—A nickname sometimes given to Jews by + peasants.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“A very nice cap. Is’t for Andrew?” + +“It is: Simon’s is already bought.” + +“Will it not be too small for him?” + +“His head is just the size of mine.” + +“What a well-favoured stable-boy you would make!” + +“Ah! shouldn’t I?” she exclaimed, with a jaunty air, and cocking her cap +on one side. + +“I’d take you to my service directly!” + +“Only my terms might prove much too high.” She laughed. + +“For some, perhaps; not for me.” + +“But I’d do no work in the fields.” + +“Oh, I would do the work for you, Yagna!” he whispered, and the look he +darted at her was so passionate that she shrank back in confusion, and +paid for the cap without bargaining. + +“Have you sold your cow?” he asked her, after a time, when he had become +more master of himself, and overcome the sensation which had so suddenly +gone to his head, like strong vodka. + +“Yes, they bought her for the priest in Yerzov. Mother has gone with the +organist, who wants to engage a farm-labourer.” + +“Well then, let’s just go and take a drop of sweetened vodka together.” + +“What’s that you say?” + +“You are cold, Yagna; it will warm you somewhat.” + +“Go with you for a drink?... Where could I go?” + +“Then, Yagna, I’ll bring some, and we’ll drink it here together.” + +“God reward your kindness, but I must look for Mother.” + +“Yagna, I’ll help you to find her,” he whispered very low, and going +foremost, elbowed a way for her so powerfully that she was easily able +to get through the crowd. But when they stood before the booths of linen +goods, the girl walked more slowly, and presently stopped, her eyes +beaming with joy at the various objects before her. + +“Oh, what splendid things! Lord, dear Lord!” she murmured, stopping in +front of the ribbons which, hanging above her, waved in the air, like a +mobile and flaming rainbow. + +“Choose the one you like best, Yagna!” + +“Why, that yellow one embroidered with flowers must cost a rouble, or +perhaps even ten _zloty_!” + +“Let not that trouble you, but take it.” + +Yagna, however—regretfully indeed and with a great effort—let the ribbon +go, and passed on to the next booth: Boryna remaining a little behind +for a few instants. + +Now her gaze again fell on kerchiefs, and stuffs for bodices, and +jackets. + +“O Lord, O Lord! what beautiful things!” she murmured low, rapt with the +glamour of it all; and more than once she would plunge her quivering +hands into those folds of green or red satin, till her eyes grew dim and +her heart went pit-a-pat with delight. + +And what head-dresses those kerchiefs made! Scarlet silk, embroidered +all round with green flowers; or all of a golden hue; or a deep blue, +like the sky after rain! And those—the finest of them all—of changeful +shimmering colours, pure as water shining in the evening sunlight, and +no heavier than floating gossamer!... No, she could not help it: she +must try that kerchief on her head, and see herself in the looking-glass +the Jewess of the booth was holding out to her. + +Yes, it suited her to perfection; it was like a glorious aureole over +her light flaxen tresses, and made the deep azure of her eyes shine so +intensely with the joy of it that they glowed violet amid the splendour +of her face. And people turned to gaze at her, so handsome she appeared, +surrounded with so bright an emanation of youth and health! + +“Is not this the daughter of some Squire, disguising herself?” they +whispered among themselves. + +For a long time she contemplated the kerchief, and then, with a deep +sigh, took it off, and set to bargaining: not meaning to buy it—this was +impossible—but only for the pleasure of enjoying its beauty a little +longer. + +Presently, however, her ardour cooled. The Jewess had put the price at +five roubles!—Even Boryna at once dissuaded her. + +Again they came to a stop before the stalls of beads. How many strings +there were! And how they looked! As if the whole stall were +oversprinkled with precious gems: so brilliant, so resplendent! Hard, +indeed, it was to take one’s eyes away from them—from those amber +globules of pellucid gold, looking for all the world as if made of +sweet-scented resin; and the coral drops, like threaded beads of blood; +and the white pearls, as big as hazel-nuts; and those other drops of +silver and of gold! + +Yagna tried on more than one, and made her choice of the most beautiful. +At last she caught sight of one very lovely string of coral beads, +passed it four times round her neck, and, turning to the old man, said: + +“Does it suit me? Tell me true.” + +“Splendidly, Yagna!—But coral beads are no strange thing to me. In a +chest at my home there lies a necklace of eight rows. ’Twas my wife’s. +Every bead is as big as the biggest pea.” This he said to her with +studied indifference. + +“And what’s that to me, if it is not mine?” She flung the beads back and +hastened away, moody and repining. + +“Yagna, let’s sit down awhile.” + +“I must go to mother.” + +“No fear of her leaving you behind.” + +They sat down together on the shaft of a wagon. + +“It’s a big fair,” remarked Boryna, looking round the market-place. + +“It’s not small,” she returned, casting a sorrowful glance at the stalls +they had left behind them, and heaving a deep sigh. A pause ensued; +then, trying to shake off her sadness, she spoke: + +“Ah, well it is for anyone who is a Squire! Once I saw the daughter of +the Squire of Vola, with other ladies, buying, as they did at every +fair, such quantities of things that they were carried by a manservant!” + +“‘Who goes oft to the fair shall lose all he has there.’” Boryna +remarked. + +“The proverb is not for them.” + +“Not so long as they can borrow from Jews,” he answered, with such +bitterness that Yagna stared at him, knowing not what to reply. Looking +away from her, he asked, in a low voice: + +“They have been to you with a proposal from Michael, Voytek’s son, have +they not?” + +“They went away as they came. Such a dolt, to send a proposal to me!” + +Boryna then rose hurriedly, taking out of his bosom a kerchief, and +something else wrapped up in paper. + +“Keep this, Yagna; I must go to Antek.” + +Her eyes sparkled at the name. “Is he at the fair?” + +“Yes; down that lane, selling the corn.—Take this, Yagna, it is for +you,” he added, seeing her gaze at the kerchief with bewildered eyes. + +“Do you give it me? Me—really? Oh, how pretty it is!” She unwrapped the +paper. There lay the very same ribbon that had pleased her so vastly +just before. “Can you be in earnest?” she exclaimed. “Why do you give me +all this? It is very costly, and the kerchief is of pure silk.” + +“Take it, Yagna, take it, it is all bought for you. And when some +peasant shall come to drink to you, do not drink back to him. Why +hurry?—Now, I must go.” + +“Are these things my own? Say you true?” + +“And wherefore should I lie to you?” + +“I can scarce believe it,” she said, unwrapping the kerchief, and then +the ribbon again. + +“God be with you, Yagna!” + +“How I thank you, Matthias!” + +He left her. Yagna once more unwrapped the things, and gloated over +them. Then she wrapped them up both together, with a mind to run after +him and give them back: for how could she accept such gifts from a +stranger? But he was no longer in sight. So she walked along slowly, to +seek her mother, secretly and fingering with intense pleasure the parcel +hidden in her bosom. She was full of joy; her cheeks glowed red, and her +white teeth flashed as she smiled. + +“Yagna! Pray give some aid to a poor creature. Your people are good, +true Christians! I’ll say a Hail Mary for your departed.... O Yagna!” + +Yagna, thus recalled to herself, looked to see who it was that spoke, +and saw Agatha, who was sitting close to the monastery wall, upon a +bundle of straw: for the mud was there more than ankle-deep. + +Coming to a standstill, she fumbled in her dress for some coppers; and +Agatha, overjoyed to have met someone of her village, began to ask her +what was going on at Lipka. + +“Are all the potatoes in?” + +“To the very last.” + +“Anything new at the Klembas’?” + +“What, they have sent you away to beg ... and you still care about +them?” + +“Sent me away? That they did not; I went by myself, for it was needful. +And I care about them, because they are my kinsfolk.” + +“And what are you doing now?” + +“Going from church to church, from hamlet to hamlet, from fair to fair; +and, as guerdon for my prayers, the good people give me, here a corner +to sleep in, there a morsel to feed me, and at times a copper or two. +The people are good; they will not let a poor creature starve, not +they!” She broke off, and asked, with some hesitation: “Do you know if +all the Klembas are in good health?” + +“They are; and how are you?” + +“Oh, my health is nothing to boast of. Always a pain in my chest; and +when I take cold, I spit hot blood. I shall not last long, no!—If I can +but hold out till spring, I will go back to the village to die among my +own people. I ask naught else of our Lord.... Naught else.” + +“Say a prayer for Father’s soul?” Yagna whispered, slipping some coins +into her hand. + +“That will be for all the holy souls in purgatory; for as it is, I +always pray for all those I know, living and dead.—But ... Yagna!... +Have they sent no one to you with vodka?” + +“Yes.” + +“And you would drink back to none?” + +“To none,” she replied briefly. “God be with you, and come next spring +to see us.” And she went to rejoin her mother, whom she perceived at +some distance with the organist. + +Boryna was returning to Antek, but slowly, both on account of the +crowds, and because the thought of Yagna was haunting him. Before he saw +his son, however, the blacksmith met him. They greeted one another, and +walked on side by side without speaking. At last: + +“Are you going to settle with me, or not?” the smith began, in no +friendly voice. Boryna was up in arms at once. + +“Settle what? Lipka was the place to speak with me.” + +“These three years I have been waiting. People advise me to bring an +action at law ... but....” + +“Do so. I’ll introduce you to a scrivener; yes, and pay him a rouble to +draw up a complaint for you!” + +“... But I think,” the smith went on, with crafty moderation, “it were +best to have a friendly understanding.” + +“Right. ‘By a neighbourly course get what’s not got by force!’” + +“You say wisely.” + +“You will get it neither in one way nor in the other.” + +“I have always told my wife that you, Father, loved justice.” + +“Everyone wants justice ... on his side. I am indifferent, for I owe +nothing.” At those stern words, the blacksmith saw he would get nothing +by his former tactics, so he changed them. As if there had been no +dispute, he very quietly uttered the request: + +“Will you stand me a drink? I should like one.” + +“Certainly, dearest son-in-law: yes, even should you ask for a litre.” +The tones were rather sneering; but they entered the corner tavern +together. Here they found Ambrose, not drinking, but seated in a corner, +sulky and sad. + +“I feel my bones ache; we shall have nasty weather,” Ambrose predicted. + +They drank once and again, but saying not a word, each angry with the +other. + +“You take your vodka as they do at a funeral,” Ambrose said; he felt +sore at not being invited, for he had scarcely taken anything that +morning. + +“How can we talk? Father-in-law is selling so much to-day that he must +think to whom he had best lend his cash out at interest.” + +“Matthias, Matthias!” cried Ambrose; “I say to you that our Lord....” + +“Matthias I am—for some, not for you, you saucy fellow!—Look at him! +‘Fain would the swine say to the swineherd, Brother!’” + +The smith had already taken a couple of stiff drams, and felt inclined +to argue. He lowered his tone, to say: + +“Father-in-law, tell me once for all: will you, or will you not, give +what I ask?” + +“You have heard my answer. I cannot take my land to the grave with me; +but, while I am living, not one acre will I give up. I will not be fed +at your expense, and mean to enjoy a year or two in this world still.” + +“Then pay me off!” + +“I have spoken: have you heard?” + +“He is looking out,” Ambrose whispered, “for a third wife. What are his +children to him?” + +“That’s likely, indeed!” + +“Marry I shall, if I choose,” put in Boryna. “Do you object?” + +“Object? No; but....” + +“If I choose, I shall send a proposal—yes, and no later than to-morrow!” + +“Do so. What have I against it? Only let me have Red-and-White’s calf, +and I’ll even help you all I can. You, a reasonable man, must know what +is best for you. I have said so many a time to my wife: you want a woman +in the house to keep it in order.” + +“Michael! You said that?” + +“May I die unshriven if I did not! Yes, I did say so. I, who advise the +whole village, each man as he requires, should I not know what is good +for you?” + +“You rogue, you are lying like a gipsy!—But come to-morrow, and you +shall have the calf.... What I am asked for, I may give; but claim it as +a right, and you’ll get only a broken cudgel—or worse.” + +They continued their potations, the smith now treating Boryna, and +inviting Ambrose to join them. This he did very willingly, and told many +a merry tale and jest, so that they presently roared with laughter. + +The two separated on good terms. But neither trusted the other a +jot.—Each was transparent to each as a pane of glass, each as easy to +know as a horse with a star on the forehead. + +Ambrose remained, expecting gossips and acquaintances willing to offer +him the least little drop. For “a hungry dog will try even to catch a +fly.” + +The fair was drawing to its close. + +For a moment the sun had shone out at noon, flashing on the world like +the glint of a brandished mirror; then it plunged anew behind the +clouds. Before evening had come, everything was in profound gloom; heavy +masses of vapour rolled down, almost touching the house-roofs, and a +fine rain drizzled as though sifted through a sieve.... The folk +therefore hastened to drive away, anxious to get home before nightfall +and a heavy downpour. + +Twilight fell, swift, louring, and dank: the town was once more empty +and silent. + +Only along a wall here and there, some _Dziads_ were moaning, and the +voices of revelling and quarrelling were loud in the taverns. + +Evening was well advanced when Boryna drove away with his people. They +had sold all they brought, purchased various articles, and enjoyed the +fair to the full. Antek flogged the horses with all his might, and the +cart hurtled athwart the depths of the mud; for he felt cold, and they +had all drunk plentifully. The old man, stingy though he was, and ready +to make a fuss for a _grosz_[16] had that day treated them so well with +things to eat and drink, and friendly words, that they were all amazed +at him. + +----- + +Footnote 16: + + _Grosz_—the smallest Polish coin—about one-fourth of an American + cent.—_Translator’s Note._ + +When they reached the forest, it was black night—so dark that nothing +could be seen. The rain was falling, ever in larger drops. Along the +road a clatter of wagon-wheels, the brawling howl of a drunken song, or +the sucking steps of someone plodding in the mire, were to be heard. + +But, in the middle of the poplar-road, whose trees murmured and muttered +as though shivering with cold, Ambrose, now quite drunk, staggered along +from one side to the other, now stumbling against a tree, now falling +into the mud; but he would quickly rise and go on, singing, as was his +wont, with noisy vociferation. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + +The rain had now begun to come down in earnest. + +Ever since the fair, all things had been drowned in a grey turbid +shimmer, through which only the dim outlines of the forest or the hamlet +loomed, embroidered, as it were, on a ground of wet canvas. + +The autumn downpours swooped down, icily cold, piercingly sharp, and +never-ending. + +The rain, like scourges of ashen-grey hue, unceasingly beat upon the +earth, soaking every tree to its very centre, and making every blade of +grass quiver, as in dire pain. + +From underneath those thick clouds and that ghastly grey rain there +would appear, now and again, strips of fields, blackened, flat, and +sodden; or there would gleam forth streaks of foam-flecked water, +flowing down the furrows; or the trees along the pathways would stand +forth, dark and stark, as their dripping branches, wet to the inmost +pith, shaking off the last rags of leaves, seemed struggling +desperately, like hounds straining at a leash. + +The deserted roads were now transformed into interminable quagmires of +filth. + +The short, sad, sunless days crawled by; bleak and dull, with ceaseless +sounds of monotonous plashing, fell the nights. + +Mute were the fields, dumb the hamlets, silent the woods. The houses +dusky and colourless, seemed melting into and making one with the earth, +the fences, and the stripped orchards, tossing their boughs with feeble +moans. + +A livid whirling downpour had covered the land, taken all colour out of +it, quenched its tints, and plunged the world into twilight. All seemed +confused, and as in a dream. A sadness rose up from the mouldering +fields, from the palsy-stricken woods, from the dead wilderness; thence +it floated like a heavy cloud, lingering about the melancholy crossways, +under the crucifixes which stretched forth their mournful arms and on +the waste roads, where the trees would suddenly quake as with dread, and +sob as if in anguish; it looked with vacant stare into each deserted +nest, and on each fallen cabin; it crept about the burial-places around +the graves of the forgotten dead, and the decaying crosses; it spread +over all the country. + +And the drizzle was never-ceasing: but when the heavy rain swooped down, +it wrapped all Lipka in its folds, so that the dark thatches, the dank +stones of the enclosures, the dingy tangles of smoke which twirled above +the chimneys and wandered over the orchards, were visible only at rare +intervals. + +The village was noiseless, except for some barns, where men were +threshing. But these were few: the people were all out in the cabbage +plantations. The miry roads lay waste; and waste, too, were the +cabin-surroundings. If now and then anyone appeared, a ghost in the fog, +he vanished at once, and only the sound of his wooden clogs was audible, +as he trudged through the mud. Or from time to time a cart laden with +cabbages would roll slowly away from the peat bogs, and scatter the +geese wading about to snap up such leaves as it let fall. + +The pond struggled within the narrow shores which confined it. It was +continually rising; and ere it flooded the lower parts of the road on +Boryna’s side, it came up to the enclosures, and splashed and foamed +before the very cabin-walls. + +But the whole village was out, busy cutting the cabbages, and conveying +them home. They were housed everywhere, on threshing-floors, in +passages, in dwelling-rooms, and in some cases, even under the +eaves—bluish-green cabbage-heads were to be seen by hundreds. + +They made haste, for it was continually raining, and the ways were all +fast becoming sloughs of mire, and impassable. + +That day, they were cutting Dominikova’s plantation. + +Yagna, along with Simon, had been there since morning, for Andrew had +stayed at home to mend the roof. + +Evening was at hand, and the old housewife again and again came out, +looking towards the mill, and listening for the sound of their coming. + +But the work was still going on busily in the low-lying plantation +beyond the mill. Over the meadows stretched a dense fog; only in places, +wide ditches gleamed, full of grey turbid water; and long bands on the +higher ground where the cabbages grew, here of a pallid green, there of +a rusty red. About these flitted dimly the crimson petticoats of women, +piling up heaps of newly cut cabbages. + +In the misty distance, close to the river that ran frothing among +thickets of brushwood, there rose many a heap of dull brown peat. Here +the carts were stationed; they could come no nearer, because of the +quaggy nature of the soil, and every sheetful of cabbages had to be +taken to them as a bundle carried on the back. + +In some fields cutting was over already, and the people were going home; +from patch to patch, ever louder and louder, their voices sounded +through the fog. + +Yagna had only just got through with the work. She was tired out, very +sharp-set, and completely drenched to boot. Even her clogs were +streaming with wet, for they sank more than ankle-deep into the +dun-coloured peaty soil, and she often had to take them off and pour the +water out. + +“Simon! be quick now! I can feel my limbs no more!” she called out +wearily; but, seeing that the young man was unable to lift his burden, +she impatiently seized the great bundle, raised it on to her back, and +carried it off to the wagon. + +“A big fellow like you—yet with the loins of a woman after childbed!” +She spoke scornfully, as she poured the cabbages out into the straw at +the bottom of the cart. + +Simon, much abashed, muttered, growled, scratched his head, and put the +horse to. + +“Hurry now, Simon!” she cried, swiftly bearing one huge bundle after +another to the cart. + +But night fell, the shades grew blacker, the rain fell heavier, pouring +upon the pulpy ground and into the ditches with a sound as of dropping +corn. + +“Yuzka! have you done for to-day?” she cried to Boryna’s daughter, who +had been cutting along with Hanka and Kuba. + +“Yes, we have. Time to go home: the weather is frightful, and I am wet +through. Are you going too?” + +“Aye. It would soon be so dark that we could not find our way. The rest +must stand over till to-morrow.—Oh, your cabbages are splendid!” she +exclaimed, leaning over towards them, and getting a glimpse of the heaps +that loomed through the mist. + +“Yours are very good too, and your turnips far larger than ours.” + +“Ah, they were planted from a new kind of seed, brought from Warsaw by +his Reverence.” + +“Yagna!”—it was Yuzka’s voice, calling again to her out of the fog—“do +you know, Valek, Joseph’s son, is sending people to-morrow to propose to +Mary Pociotek?” + +“What, that little girl? Is she not too young? Only last year she was +herding kine, I think.” + +“Yes, she is old enough. Besides, she has so many acres that the lads +are in haste to marry her.” + +“You, too, Yuzka, they will be in haste to marry by and by.” + +“Unless your father takes another wife,” shouted Yagustynka from the +third field. + +“What do you mean?” said Hanka, in a tone of alarm. “He buried her +mother only last spring.” + +“What does that matter to a man? Every one is even as a swine; however +full, always ready to thrust his snout into a fresh trough. Ho, ho! one +is not quite cold, nay, not yet dead, and the goodman is after +another.—They are dogs, all of them. What about Sikora? He took a second +wife only three weeks after burying his first.” + +“True: but then he was left with five little ones.” + +“As you say. But only a fool can believe he married for their sake. For +his own!—He was fain to share his blanket with someone.” + +“But,” put in Yuzka, with great energy, “that we would not let Father +do. Never!” + +“Silly baby that you are! The land is your father’s own; and so is his +will.” + +“Yet his children too ought to be considered; they have their rights,” +Hanka rejoined. + +“Better to leap into the deep than cumber another man’s wagon,” +Yagustynka muttered. + +Yagna, who had taken no part in this talk, smiled to herself as she +carried the cabbages. She was reminded of what had happened at the fair. + +As soon as the wagon was full, Simon made for the road. + +“May God be with you!” Yagna then cried to her neighbours. + +“And with you! We are coming directly.... Yagna, you’ll come to us to +pluck off the leaves, won’t you?” + +“Tell me when, and I’ll be there.” + +“The boys have arranged for music at the Klembas’ next Sunday: do you +know?” + +“I know, Yuzka, I know.” + +“If you meet Antek,” Hanka asked, “pray tell him to hurry. We are +waiting.” + +“All right.” + +She ran fast to catch the cart, for Simon had started, and could be +heard swearing at the horse. The cart had stuck in the mire of the soft +peaty ground, and was over the axles in mud; so they both had to work +and help the horse past the worst sloughs. + +Neither spoke to the other. Simon led the horse, taking care not to let +the cart upset, for the way was everywhere full of deep holes. Yagna put +her shoulder to the cart behind, considering all the while how she +should dress when she went for the leaf-plucking to the Borynas. + +It was so dark that the horse was all but invisible. The rain had abated +a little, but the fog hung heavy and damp, and the wind blew and +whistled above them, lashing the trees on the embankment which they were +now going up. + +It was a hard ascent, the ground being both steep and slippery. + +“The cart is too full for one horse!” exclaimed a voice on the +embankment. + +“Is that you, Antek?” + +“Surely.” + +“Then be quick; Hanka is expecting you.—But give us a helping hand now.” + +“Wait awhile: I must get down first.—It is so dark that you can’t see +anything.” + +They were up the embankment in no time, for the helping hand had pushed +so powerfully that the horse scrambled up at once, and only came to a +halt at the top. + +“Thanks most heartily,” she said; “but, good God! you _are_ strong!” + +And she stretched out her hand to shake his. + +They were mute. The cart went on before them, while they walked on, side +by side, unable to find words, and both of them strangely agitated. + +“Are you going back?” she asked in a low whisper. + +“I shall only go with you as far as the mill, Yagna; the water has made +a nasty hole there.” + +“Very dark, isn’t it?” she said. + +“Are you afraid, Yagna?” he murmured, drawing closer. + +“Why should I be?” + +They were mute again, walking on shoulder to shoulder, side touching +side. + +“How bright your eyes shine!... Like a wolf’s.” + +“Will you come to the Klembas’ on Sunday for the music?” + +“Will Mother allow me?” + +“Do come, Yagna, do come!” he entreated her, in a strangled husky voice. + +“Is it your wish?” she asked him softly, looking into his eyes. + +“Why, Lord! ’twas I ordered the fiddler from Vola, only for you; and +only for you did I beg Klemba to let us have his cabin.” He spoke in a +low tone; his face was so close to hers, and his breath came so quick, +that she drew back a little, quivering all over with emotion. + +“Go now—they are waiting for you—someone may see us.—Go!” + +“Will you come?” + +“I will—I will,” she repeated, turning to look at him as he went away: +but the fog had swallowed him up, and she only heard his feet, as they +squashed away through the thick slush. + +Then an irrepressible shiver seized her; and yet it was a fiery blast +that went through her heart and brain. She knew not what it was that had +come upon her: her eyes were full of flames; her breath failed her; she +could not still the passionate throbbing of her heart. Instinctively she +stretched forth her arms as for an embrace: then stiffened herself, +taken with so wild a fit of sudden shuddering that she could have cried +out aloud. But she reached the wagon and, catching hold, gave it a +forward push with great though needless violence. The cart creaked and +lurched over, so that several cabbages fell out into the mud. But still +she saw before her that face, and ah! those eyes, so bright, so full of +ardent craving! + +“He is not a man, he’s a whirlwind,” she mused blankly. “Can there be +such another in the whole world?” + +She came back to her senses with the noise of the mill they were +passing, and with the roar of the water pouring over the wheel and under +the sluices; for those, owing to the high level of the water, had been +thrown open; with a noisy rush the stream rolled down, breaking up into +volumes of yeast-like foam that formed long white streaks on the broad +expanse of the river. + +At the miller’s house, just by the roadside, a lamp had been lit and +placed on a table, whence it could be seen through the curtained +windows. + +“They really have a lamp, just as at his Reverence’s or at some +manor-house!” + +“For are they not rich folk?” said Simon. “They have more land than +Boryna himself; they put their money out at interest; and how they cheat +us when they grind our wheat!” + +“They live like big landowners.... It is well for such as they.... They +strut about the rooms, they loll upon the sofas, and eat dainty food, +and make others work for them.” So thought his sister, but without +envious feelings, nor paying any heed to what Simon went on saying; who, +usually taciturn, now held forth on this subject at interminable length. + +At last they arrived. In their bright warm cabin, a fire was blazing +merrily on the hearth. Andrew was peeling potatoes, and their mother +preparing supper. + +Close to the fire sat a hoary-headed old man. + +“Is all the work over, Yagna?” + +“Only about three sheets full are still to be cut.” + +She went into the inner room to change, and was back again at once, +getting things ready for the meal, all the time keenly and curiously +observant of the old man, who sat profoundly silent, looking into the +fire, while his lips moved and his rosary passed through his fingers, +bead by bead. When they sat down to the meal, the old dame placed a +spoon for him, and asked him to eat with them. + +“Remain ye with God: I go,” he answered. “But I shall look in here +again, and perchance make a longer stay at Lipka.” + +Kneeling down in the centre of the room, he bent before the holy images, +crossed himself, and walked out. + +“Who is that?” Yagna asked. + +“A saintly pilgrim. He comes from the Sepulchre of Jesus. This many a +year have I known him. He has been here more than once, and brought me +holy things from afar.... About three years since....” + +She was interrupted by the entrance of Ambrose, who, after the usual +greetings, took a seat by the fire. + +“It is so cold and wet that even my wooden leg feels numb!” + +“Why wander so, in such weather, and in the night too?” Dominikova +grumbled. “You had far better have stayed at home and said your +prayers.” + +“At home I was a-weary; so, coming out to see a girl or two, I came +first of all to you, Yagna!” + +“Death is the name of the only girl for you.” + +“Oh, _she_! she has forgotten me quite; she prefers dancing with the +young.” + +“What do you mean?” Dominikova asked. + +“That his Reverence has just carried the Holy Viaticum to Bartek over +the water.” + +“Why, he was quite well when I saw him but now at the fair!” + +“He has been so savagely cudgelled by his son-in-law that his liver was +ruptured.” + +“When? and on what account?” + +“On account of the land, of course. They have been at odds these six +months, and to-day at noon they settled the matter.” + +“Why,” Yagna cried, “is there no judgment of the Lord upon such +murderers?” + +“It will come,” her mother replied sternly, raising her eyes to the holy +images. + +“Yes, but it will not bring the dead to life,” Ambrose muttered. + +“Sit down, and share our board.” + +“I have naught against that. I still can get through a dish—if only +large enough.” + +“You think of nothing but jesting and drollery.” + +“I have nought else in the wide world: why should I care!” + +They seated themselves round the bench on which the two dishes—potatoes +and sour milk—had been put, and set to eating with the usual +deliberation and taciturnity, while Andrew saw to the pots’ being +abundantly supplied. Only Ambrose now and again said something funny, at +which he himself was the first to laugh. + +“Is his Reverence at home?” Dominikova asked towards the end of the +meal. + +“Where else, in such weather? Yes, at home, poring over books like a +Jew.” + +“A learned, a most learned man!” + +“And so good! The best man in the world,” Yagna chimed in. + +“Ah, yes. No harm in him.... Takes care of himself, and hurts nobody.” + +“That’s not the way to speak, Ambrose!” + +They had done. Yagna had gone with her mother to where the distaffs were +fixed in front of the fire-place, while her brothers, as was their +custom, cleared away and washed and set things in order. Dominikova had +always ruled her sons with iron sway, and brought them up to do the +duties of girls, that Yagna’s beautiful hands might not grow coarse. + +Ambrose lit his pipe, puffed up the chimney, and poked the embers, while +adding some faggots, with furtive glances at the womanfolk. He was +pondering over something and settling how to begin. + +“I fancy you must have had a proposal or two.” + +“More.” + +“Naturally. Yagna is as pretty as a picture. His Reverence says there is +none so pretty in the whole village.” + +Yagna blushed scarlet with delight. + +“Did he say so?” quoth the old dame. “May the Lord grant him health! I +have long, long been getting money together for a votive mass: I will +have one sung directly.” + +“There’s somebody that would like to send you a proposal; but he is +somewhat shy.” + +“A farm-hand?” Dominikova inquired, turning the spindle swiftly, till it +fluttered about the floor. + +“A man with a household under him. Comes of a good stock, but is a +widower.” + +“What, nurse another’s children? Not I.” + +“Fear nothing, Yagna; they are all well out of leading-strings.” + +“Young as she is, why should she accept an old man? Let her wait for a +young one, if any such should come.” + +“Oh, there are plenty. No lack of young men, no! Lads as straight as +arrows, smoking cigarettes, dancing in the tavern, swallowing drams of +vodka, and with a keen eye for any girl that has a few acres and a bit +of money. Wretched husbandmen, though, who rise at noonday, and in the +afternoon carry dung in a wheelbarrow, and till the land with a hoe!” + +“I will not let my Yagna stoop to any such!” + +“They say you are the wisest of us all; and they say true.” + +“On the other hand—small delight can an old man give a young girl.” + +“She may find young ones to delight her—not a few.” + +She eyed him severely. “So reverend in years, yet so careless in talk!” + +A pause ensued. + +“He’s an honourable elder, and not greedy of other folk’s money.” + +“No, no! naught but sin can come of it!” + +“Well, but he might make a marriage settlement,” he continued, now quite +serious, and knocking the ashes out of his pipe. + +The reply, when it came, was given with hesitation. + +“Yagna has enough of her own.” + +“He would give more than what he received; certainly more.” + +“What’s that you say?” + +“What I know. Neither the wind nor my fancy has taught it me: I come +here in another’s name.” + +Silence again. The old housewife took a long time to straighten the +tangled flax on the distaff; then, wetting her left thumb and finger, +she drew out the long fibres, while her right set the spindle whirling, +flapping and whirring along the floor like a top. + +“Well then, shall he send her his friends with vodka?” + +“He? Who?” + +“Know you not? He that dwells over there!” And Ambrose pointed to the +lights in Boryna’s hut, twinkling across the pond. + +“His family are grown up: they will oppose it. Besides, they have a +right to their portions.” + +“But he can always make a settlement with what is his own! He is a good +man, and no indifferent farmer; religious into the bargain. And hale! +Lord, I have seen the man heave more than two bushels of rye in a sack +on to his shoulders. Let your Yagna wish for anything in the world +except pigeon’s milk, and she will get it. And then, the lad Andrew is +next year to be a conscript. Now, Boryna knows all about official +matters, and whom to apply to, and may be of great use.” + +“But how do you, Yagna, look upon this?” + +“Indifferently.—If you say: ‘Marry him’ I will. It is for you, not for +me, to decide.” She spoke very low, her forehead touching her distaff, +while, looking vacantly into the fire, she listened as the faggots +crackled merrily. + +“Well?” Ambrose queried, rising from his seat. + +“Let his friends come”; the words dropped one by one from the old dame’s +lips. “A betrothal is not a wedding yet.” + +Ambrose crossed himself and went out, making straight for Boryna’s +cabin. + +Yagna was sitting dumb and motionless. + +“Yagna dearest, what do you say to this?” + +“Naught whatever; it is all the same to me. If you like, I marry Boryna; +if not, I stay with you.... By your side, I am very well off.” + +Her mother spoke in subdued tones as she went on spinning: + +“I would fain do all for the best, my dear. True, he is old, but strong +and hearty still. And, besides, he will treat you courteously, not as +other peasants might do. You will be the mistress and the head of his +house. Also, when he makes the settlement, I shall arrange matters so +that the land he will leave to us will touch ours.... And then, were the +amount only six acres—think of it, Yagna! six acres more!—And then +remember: you must marry, you _must_! Why should the tongues of all the +village gossips wag to defame you?... We should have to kill the +pig....” Here she broke off, and went on to settle other matters within +herself; for Yagna was spinning mechanically, as if she had heard +nothing said. + +Was she, she mused, unhappy at her mother’s? She did what she liked; no +one ever said a cross word to her. Acres, settlement, possessions, nay, +even a husband—what did she care for them all? Were the lads who sought +her few in number? Had she a mind, she could bring them all to propose +to her the same evening.... Her mind was little by little being made up, +as was the flaxen thread she span; and as that thread turned in one +direction only, so she determined on one thing—to marry Boryna, if her +mother cared for the marriage—Yes; she liked him better than the rest: +had he not bought her a ribbon and a kerchief?—True; yet Antek, and +others as well, if they owned Boryna’s money, would do as much for +her.—No, no: let her mother choose, whose head was good at such things: +her own was not. + +She looked towards the window, where the withered and blackened dahlia +bushes were tapping, lashed by the gale. By and by she forgot them, +forgot everything, forgot her very self, and fell into a state of +beatific inertness like that which now held the earth around her in +those deathly quiet nights of autumn. For Yagna’s soul was even as that +earth; as that earth, it had its abysses, dreamy, chaotic, known to +none. Vast it was, but unconscious of its own vastness; mighty, yet +without either will or desire or longing—inanimate, yet immortal; like +that earth, too, swept by every blast that took hold of her, and seized +upon her, and did with her whatsoever it listed.... And likewise, in the +springtime, the warm sun would awake her, and flood her with life, and +fill her with the quivering flame of desire and love; and like the +earth, her soul would conceive—it could do naught else; would live and +sing, rule, create, and annihilate its creations—it could do naught +else; it would exist—it could not but exist! Such was that hallowed +earth; such was the soul of Yagna, like unto that same earth. + +Long did she sit thus, mute: only those eyes of hers were glittering as +still waters at noon in spring, or as gleam the stars. + +Suddenly she awoke from her reverie: someone had opened the front door. +It was Yuzka, who rushed breathless into the room. + +Shaking the water out of her clogs, she said: “Yagna, we have the +leaf-plucking to-morrow: will you come?” + +“Of course.” + +“We shall do the work in the big room. Ambrose is sitting there now with +father, so I made shift to slip out and let you know. There will be +Ulisia, and Mary, and Vitka, and all the other Pociotek girls. Lads will +be there too. Peter has promised to come and bring his fiddle.” + +“Peter? Who is that?” + +“The son of Michael who dwells beyond the Voyt’s house. He that returned +from the army when potato-digging began, and talks so queerly now, one +can scarce understand what he says.”[17] + +----- + +Footnote 17: + + Four years in the Russian army, often in the very depths of + Russia, were wont to make havoc with a Polish peasant’s + mother-tongue.—_Translator’s Note._ + +After chattering on in this way, she ran off home. + +Again the room was plunged in silence. + +The raindrops pattered on the window-panes, like handfuls of sand thrown +upon them. The wind roared and played about the garden, or blew down the +chimney, till the brands on the hearthstone were scattered about, and +whiffs of smoke came into the room. But the spindles never ceased from +whirring about the floor. + +Thus the long evening dragged on tediously, until Yagna’s mother began +to sing in a faint, quavering voice: + + “May all that we this day have done...”; + +Yagna and her brothers taking up the hymn in so high-pitched a key that +the fowls roosting in the passage clucked and cackled in chorus. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + +The next day was as rainy and dreary as the one before. + +Every now and then, someone would cone out of a hut to peer anxiously +into a mist-blurred world, and see if it was clearing up a little. And +nothing met the eye but the slate-coloured clouds, so low that they +touched the very tree-tops. And the rain rained on. + +The folk were cooped up in the cabins, and getting out of sorts. One or +two went out through the mud and rain to a neighbour’s, lamenting that +So-and-so had left his cattle-litter in the forest, not having been able +to remove it; that another had not yet brought in his firewood; that +many, almost all, had cabbages in the ground still, and could not now go +to cut them, because the pond had risen so much during the night that +the sluices had been perforce opened, and the water let out into the +river; which consequently had swollen very greatly and the meadows were +flooded, and all the cabbage plantations like sombre islands amid the +drab and foaming swirl. + +Nor had Dominikova been able to get home the cabbages she had afield. + +Ever since morning, Yagna was feeling greatly upset, heaving sighs of +vexation as she went from corner to corner, and looked out of the window +at the dahlia bushes, now beaten to the ground by the flood, and at the +whole dripping landscape. + +“Good Lord, how weary I am!” she said, impatiently awaiting the close of +day and the start for Boryna’s cabin. The hours crawled by, like an old +man trudging in the mud—so sluggishly, so wearily, so drearily, that it +became intolerable. She grew very restless, and was continually scolding +her brothers, and flinging about such articles as she happened to find +at hand. Withal, her head began to ache, and she had to put a warm +oatmeal poultice, sprinkled with vinegar, on the top of her head, before +it passed off. But, though now better, she felt completely out of gear; +her work fell from her hands, and she many a time cast her eyes upon +that surging pond which, like some huge bird, spread out ponderous +wings, and flapped them, and struggled up, foaming, till the water rose +and splashed all over the road—and all but soared into the air. + +Dominikova had been out since the morning, called away to attend a woman +in childbed at the farther end of the village; for she knew a good deal +about medicine, and how to heal various ailments. + +So then Yagna was feeling very ill at ease. She longed to go out of +doors and see someone; but whenever she tied her apron over her head and +peered out beyond the threshold at the mire and the downpour, her desire +vanished away. At last, knowing not what to do with herself, she opened +her chest and took out all her holiday apparel, which she spread upon +the beds, till the room glowed crimson with striped skirts and jackets +and aprons. But that day she cared nothing for any of them. At all those +her possessions she gazed with tired indifferent eyes; nevertheless, she +drew Boryna’s gifts—the kerchief and the ribbon—from the bottom of the +chest, and adorning herself with them, took a look at the glass. + +“They will do. I shall put them on this evening,” she decided; but took +them off again hurriedly, for someone was coming to the hut, creeping +along by the fence. + +This was no other than Matthew. Yagna cried out in astonishment as he +came in: the very man on whose account the village folk had talked most +against her as having met him by night in the orchard and elsewhere many +a time. He was a man rather beyond the prime of life, being well over +thirty; still a bachelor, for he did not care to marry, having sisters +at home (or rather, according to Yagustynka’s malicious tongue, because +lasses and neighbours’ wives were very much to his liking); a tall +fellow, strong as an oak, very sure of himself, and consequently so +proud and headstrong that he was feared by almost everyone. And he +could—what could he not do?—play the flute, construct a wagon, build a +hut, arrange a stove; and whatever he did, he did so well that his hands +were always full of work. Never of money, though: however much he +earned, he would get rid of it directly, drinking, standing drinks, and +lending to his friends. He was called “Dove,” though in his eyes and his +fiery nature he had much more of the hawk. + +“Matthew!” + +“Yes, ’tis I, Yagna!” + +He seized both her hands, and riveted his eyes on hers with a glance of +such passionate eagerness that she turned red, and looked uneasily +towards the door. + +“You have been away these six months,” she stammered. + +“Six, and twenty-three days besides, is the true reckoning.” He did not +drop her hand. + +“I shall get a light!” she cried; for it was really getting dark, and +she wanted to free her hands. + +“Give me a greeting, Yagna!” he begged, in a whisper, and tried to put +his arm round her waist. She slipped away, and ran to the fire-place to +kindle a light, fearing lest her mother should find her in the dark with +Matthew. He, however, was too quick, caught her, squeezed her close, and +set to kissing her with wild impetuosity. + +She struggled like a snared bird, but could not free herself from the +ravenous creature that hugged her till her ribs cracked and showered +upon her such mad kisses that she grew faint; a veil dimmed her eyes, +and she could not breathe. + +“Matthew, good Matthew, please let me go!” + +“Yet awhile, Yagna, yet again ... for I am frantic!” And he kissed till +the girl drooped and sank limp in his arms, weak as water. But at that +moment he heard steps in the passage; so he let her go, lit a hand-lamp +at the fire-place, and rolled a cigarette, looking the while at Yagna +with eyes that sparkled with delight. + +Andrew came in, blew the fire on the hearth into a blaze, and pottered +about the room; so they said but little, those two, whilst exchanging +hot glances of hungry, starving desire all the time. + +A few minutes later, Dominikova came in. She must have been vexed at +something or other, for she began by rating Simon soundly in the +passage. Seeing Matthew, she darted a fierce look at him, paid no heed +to his greeting, and went into the bedroom to change her dress. + +“Go away,” Yagna begged, “or mother will curse you when she comes.” + +But he only implored her to come out and meet him. + +Dominikova entered. “You ... you! Back again?” she asked, as if she had +not seen him before. + +“Yes, back again, Mother,” he answered gently, trying to kiss her hand. + +“Am I a cur, that you call me mother?” she snarled, snatching her hand +away angrily. “Why do you come? Once for all, I have said you are not +wanted here.” + +“I come, not for you, but for Yagna,” he answered, with a defiant air: +he was losing his temper. + +“You’re to drop Yagna for good, I say! Drop her! Folks shall not again +defame her on your account!... Off, and out of my sight, you...!” + +“Why croak so loud? All the village will hear!” + +“Let them hear! Let them come! Let them know that you are sticking to +Yagna as a burr sticks to a dog’s tail—that we need an ovenrake to drive +you from us!” + +“Oh, that you were a man! How you would smart for this!” + +“Try then, hound that you are! Just try, you ruffian, you bully!” And +with those words she grasped the poker. + +This brought the scene to an end. Matthew spat furiously on the ground +and went out instantly, slamming the door. For how could he make a +laughing-stock of himself by coming to blows with a woman? + +Thereupon the beldame turned to Yagna, to vent her fury on her. With +what upbraidings did she fall upon the girl, and discharge her soul of +the gall she was bursting with! At first Yagna sat dumbstruck and +petrified with dismay; but soon her mother’s bitter words stung her to +the quick. She hid her face in the bed she was sitting by, and burst +into tears and lamentations. She was cut to the heart.... What wrong had +she done?... She had not even asked him in: he had come by himself.... +Mother had reminded her of last spring.... Well ... he had met her at +the stile.... How could she get away from so impetuous a fire-drake, +when a fit of faintness came over her so?... And after that ... how +could she keep him off? Impossible!... It was always the case with her: +when a man looked deep into her eyes, or embraced her with a powerful +hug ... then all within her trembled, and her strength forsook her, and +her inwards swooned away, and she knew nothing more. Was she in any wise +to blame for this? + +These complaints she uttered in a choking voice, between bursts of +tears; and at last her mother, softening towards her, wiped her face and +eyes with tender care, and stroked her tresses, and soothed her. + +“Come, come, Yagna; be calm: do not weep. Why, your eyes will look like +a rabbit’s: and how will you be able to go to Boryna’s then?” + +“Is’t time to go now?” she asked after a while, a little comforted. + +“It is.—Now dress and array yourself—.There will be many there, and even +Boryna will notice you.” + +Yagna instantly rose and prepared to deck herself out. + +“Shall I boil some milk for you?” + +“I have no mind at all to eat, Mother dear.” + +“Simon! you hulking oaf! Warming yourself at the fire, indeed—and the +kine gnawing at the empty mangers!” she cried, exhaling the last of her +anger on the lad, who fled in bodily fear. + +“’Tis my mind,” she remarked, helping Yagna dress, “that the blacksmith +has been reconciled with Boryna: I met him leading a calf home from the +old man’s farm.—A pity! ’twas worth fifteen roubles at least. And yet it +may be as well that they agree together; for the smith has a dangerous +tongue, and knows the law besides....” She stepped back, and looked +lovingly at her daughter. “Alas! they have let that thief Koziol out of +jail already; and now we shall have to watch, and lock every door well.” + +Yagna set off; but for some distance on her way she heard her mother +inveighing against Andrew for leaving the swine out of their sties, and +letting the fowls roost in the trees. + +Many people were already at Boryna’s when she arrived. + +The fire was leaping up the chimney, lighting the big room, making the +glazed picture-frames glisten, and giving a semblance of motion to the +many globes made of coloured wafers that dangled from the grimy, +smoke-blackened rafters. In the middle there lay a heap of cabbages, +round which, in a wide semicircle, with faces turned towards the hearth, +a good many girls and some women of maturer age sat side by side, +stripping the cabbages of their outer and withered leaves, and throwing +them on to a great sheet that was spread out under the window. + +Having warmed her hands at the fire, Yagna took her clogs off, and at +once sat down to work at the end of the row, next to old Yagustynka. + +The room soon grew noisier, more men and women coming in: some of the +former, together with Kuba, helping to bring the cabbages in from the +barn, but for the most part only smoking cigarettes and grinning at the +lasses, or cracking jokes together. + +Yuzka, though hardly in her teens as yet, presided over the work and the +fun; for old Boryna had not come home, and Hanka was as usual flitting +about everywhere like a moth. + +“Why, the room glows like a field of red poppies!” exclaimed Antek, who, +having rolled several barrels into the passage, had now set the +cabbage-cutter by the fire, but a little on one side. + +“Bah! they are dressed up as though for a wedding!” remarked an elderly +woman. + +“And Yagna looks as if she had been washed in milk,” Yagustynka said, in +a spiteful tone. + +“Let me be, will you?” the girl whispered, flushing deeply. + +“Rejoice, O ye lasses,” the old woman continued; “for Matthew is back +from his wanderings. And now will the time begin for music, and dancing, +and trysts in the orchards!” + +“He has been absent all the summer.” + +“Yes; building a farm-house at Vola.” + +“A grand master-builder: could build a castle in the air,” said one of +the farm-hands. + +“And achieve a bantling in less than nine months,” observed Yagustynka. + +“Always speaking against somebody, you are!” one of the girls protested. + +“Take heed lest I choose to speak of you!” was the retort. + +“Have you heard them say the old wanderer has come to Lipka again?” + +“He will be with us to-night,” Yuzka boasted. + +“He was away for three years.” + +“Yes, at the Holy Sepulchre.” + +“Fiddlesticks! Who saw him there? He lies like a gipsy, and only fools +believe him. Just like the smith, telling us what he has read in the +papers about foreign parts.” + +“Do not say that, Yagustynka. His Reverence himself told Mother that the +man was there.” + +“Ah, we all know that Dominikova’s other home is the priest’s house, and +whenever his Reverence has a stomachache, she knows all about it.” + +Yagna said not a word, but would have loved to knife the old hag, for +her gibe was the signal of a burst of laughter. But just then Ulisia, +Gregory’s wife, leaned over towards Klembova and asked her whence the +man was. + +“Whence? From far away; where, no man can tell.” She stooped to take up +another cabbage, and as she cut off the old leaves, said in a louder +tone, so that all might hear her: “Every third winter he comes to Lipka, +and takes up his quarters with Boryna. Roch is the name he chooses to go +by; but it certainly is not his. He is a _Dziad_, and yet no _Dziad_: +what he really is, who knows? But a good and religious man, that he is +no doubt; he only needs a halo round his head to be just like a saint in +a picture. Round his neck he wears a rosary that has touched the +sepulchre of our Lord. He gives the children holy images, and also—to +some of them—pictures of the kings who once ruled our country. He has +prayer-books besides, and other books that tell about everything in the +world.... He was reading some of them to our Valek. We listened too, my +husband and I: but the things were hard to make out, and I have +forgotten them.... And so pious! Half the day, he is on his knees; and +then again before the crucifix, or out in the fields; he never goes to +church but for mass. His Reverence asked Roch to stay with him, but his +answer was: + +“‘My place is with the common people, and not in chambers.’ + +“Everybody knows he is not a peasant, though he speaks as we do. And how +learned he is! He can jabber in German with a Jew; and at the manor of +Djazgova, where dwells a young lady who was in a warm country for her +health, he spoke with her in an outlandish tongue!—Nor will he take +aught from any man, save a drop of milk or a morsel of bread: and he +teaches our children besides. They say....”—Here she was interrupted by +a great burst of laughter that made the company hold their sides. + +The cause was Kuba, who had been bringing cabbages in a sheet and, +receiving a push, had fallen sprawling on the floor, all the cabbages +rolling about the room. He tried to rise, but as soon as he began to +scramble up, another push sent him down again. + +Yuzka took his part, and came to help him up at last; but he was +exasperated, and uttered fearful language. + +But the interest turned to other matters presently. All spoke at once, +and this—though no one spoke loudly—made a hubbub as in a hive before +swarming-time; and there were peals of merriment, and banter; and eyes +flashed, and tongues waxed bold, and the work went on swifter and +swifter. The knives rattled upon the stalks, the cabbages fell into the +sheet like a running fire of cannon-balls: every moment the heap rose +higher. Antek was using the cabbage-cutter over a big barrel rolled +close to the fire—undressed, save for his shirt and the striped drawers +that he wore, flushed, dishevelled, streaming with perspiration, and yet +so handsome that Yagna feasted her eyes on his picturesque form. From +time to time he paused to take breath; and then he would look at her, +and she would cast her eyes down and blush. This, however, was noticed +by none save Yagustynka, who pretended to have seen nothing, whilst +taking thought how best to spread the news about the village. + +“They say Martianna is confined,” Klembova said. + +“That’s no news, but a yearly thing.” + +“The woman’s an aurochs! But for the babies she has, she would certainly +get a stroke!” Yagustynka grumbled, and would have gone on, had not the +others rebuked her for talking of such things in the presence of girls. + +“Fear not for them,” she replied. “They know a good deal more than that +already. In these days, you cannot speak to a goose-boy about the stork, +but he will laugh in your face. No, no, it was otherwise of old times.” + +“Well, you at any rate knew everything when you were a cowherd,” said +Vavrek’s old wife, very gravely. “Have I forgotten all you did when +tending cattle?” + +“If you have not, then keep it to yourself!” cried Yagustynka, with +wrathful asperity. + +“I was then already married. Let me see: with Matthew? No, with Michael; +Vavrek was my third,” she muttered, not quite clear as to the date of +the old hag’s youthful frailties. + +Here Nastusia, Matthew’s sister, burst breathless into the room, crying +out: “What, are you all sitting here, and know ye not what has +befallen?” + +Questioned on every side, and with every eye fixed on her: “Why,” she +said, “the miller’s horses have been stolen!” + +“When?” + +“But two minutes ago. Our Matthew has just heard of it from Yankel.” + +“Yankel always knows of this sort of things from the first—and perhaps a +little before, too.” + +“They were taken out of the stables. The farm-servant went to the mill +to get provender; and when he came back, the stable was bare, both of +horses and harness! And the dog was found poisoned in its kennel.” + +“Winter is coming on, and strange things happen in winter.” + +“Because there is really no punishment at all for thieves. Why, what do +they get? A warm prison cell, food in plenty, and so much to learn from +their fellow-thieves that, when they get out, they know twice as much, +and are twice as bad.” + +“Oh, but if anyone should steal my horses, and I got hold of him, I +would kill him on the spot like a mad dog!” cried one of the farm-hands. + +“Only fools look for justice in this world. Anyone who can, may right +his own wrongs.” + +“Should such a one be caught by a great number of men and killed, these +surely could not be punished: impossible to punish all of them!” + +“I remember,” said Vavrek’s wife, “something in that way, done here +amongst us.... I had then my second husband—no, let me see; Matthew was +yet living then....” + +Her reminiscences were cut short by the entrance of Boryna. + +“Oh,” he cried in a merry mood, “the noise of your chattering can be +heard across the water!” and taking off his cap, he greeted each guest, +one after another. Possibly he was already slightly elevated, being as +red as a beetroot; and contrary to his custom, he unbuttoned his capote, +and talked loud and long. He greatly wished to come over and sit by +Yagna, but durst not: it would never do, so long as things had not been +settled between them. So he only enjoyed the looks of her—so comely, so +well dressed—adorned, too, with the kerchief he had bought for her! + +Vitek and Kuba brought a long bench and set it in front of the fire. And +Yuzka, having wiped it with a clean linen cloth, at once set on it the +necessary dishes and spoons for supper. + +Out of the pantry Boryna brought a big-bellied bottle, containing four +quarts of vodka, and went round drinking to each visitor, and with him. + +The girls, however, hung back with affected dislike, until one of the +farm-hands cried out: “They’re all as fond of vodka as a cat of milk, +but just hold off for the look of the thing!” + +“The hopeless drunkard! Always at Yankel’s, he thinks everyone is like +him!” + +So they held off no more, but drank, first turning away and putting +their hands before their faces, then throwing the last drops on to the +floor, with due rites; and each made a wry face and exclaimed: “How very +strong!” as she returned the glass to Boryna. + +Yagna alone refused to drink, however much she was asked. + +“I do not so much as know how vodka tastes, and I do not care to know.” + +“Well, now, sit down, dear friends, and partake of what we have for +you,” was Boryna’s invitation, after the vodka. + +Several formalities, commanded by good breeding, having been gone +through, they all seated themselves to eat deliberately and engage in +conversation. + +The food was so very excellent as to surprise many of the guests. There +were boiled potatoes, served in broth; there was sodden meat, with +barley meal; there was cabbage together with peas in one dish: all +offered with great hospitality on the part of the master, who not only +invited, but pressed his visitors to enjoy themselves. + +Vitek heaped the fire with dry roots, which made a joyful crackling +noise; and while they were eating, Kuba brought in a heap of fresh +cabbages, which he piled up, greedily sniffing the dainties on the +table, and sighing. + +“Those creatures!” he grumbled to himself; “all eating away like starved +horses! Very likely they will not leave a man as much as a bone to +gnaw!” + +Presently, however, the meal was over, and all stood up to say “God +reward you!” to the founder of the feast. + +“May it do you good!” was the set reply. + +A few minutes of unrest ensued, during which some went out to take a +little air and stretch their limbs, some to see whether the sky was +clearing up; and the farm-hands, to stand about the porch and chaff the +girls. + +And then Kuba sat down upon the threshold, with a dish on his lap, and +gorged himself with such an intensity of appetite that he did not so +much as notice the dog Lapa, notwithstanding its gentle hints; and Lapa, +finding it would get nothing in that quarter, made for the passage +reserved for the other dogs that had come with the guests and were +gnawing the bones thrown to them by Yuzka. + +They were about to fall to work again, when Roch appeared upon the +threshold, and “praised Jesus Christ.” + +“World without end!” was the reply of all. + +“‘See ye come not too late, but when food’s on the plate,’” Boryna +quoted. + +“Let Yuzka but give me some bread and milk; ’twill do.” + +“There’s some meat remaining still,” said Hanka, timidly. + +“No, thanks; I never eat meat.” + +At first, all were silent, staring at him with friendly curiosity; but +when he sat down to eat, they soon again fell a-talking and a-laughing. + +Yagna alone eyed the old pilgrim again and again, with wondering looks, +surprised that such a one, not unlike other men, should have visited the +tomb of Christ our Lord, and gone over half the world, and seen so many +a marvel. What was it like, then, the great world he knew? Where should +one go, to arrive at it? Around her there were only hamlets and fields +and pine-forests, beyond which again stretched fields and pine-forests +and hamlets. One must go a hundred leagues, or perhaps a thousand, she +thought. She was strangely drawn to put some questions to the man; but +how could she? The folk would only laugh at her. + +Rafal’s son, who had just come back from the army, had brought his +fiddle; and now, having tuned it, began to play one tune after another. +Silence came over the room; only the rain was heard, pattering upon the +panes, and the voices of the dogs whining outside. + +He played and played on, ever some new tune, drawing his bow across the +strings, and the melody seemed to come forth by itself at its caressing +touch. First he played religious tunes, as though in honour of the +pilgrim, who never took his eyes off the young man. Then came other and +quite worldly airs; for instance, the one about “Johnny has gone to the +wars,” which the girls were used to sing in the fields so often; and he +drew the notes out with such infinite sadness that an icy shudder ran +down one’s spine; and Yagna, who was sensitive to music as are but few, +felt tears, one after another, trickling down her cheeks. + +“Oh, do leave off!” Nastka called out. “You are making Yagna cry.” + +“No, no; I always feel tearful when there is music,” Yagna whispered, +covering her face with her apron. + +But she could not help the tears that flowed against her will, called +forth by the strange yearning which she felt within her—and for what? +She knew not. + +The young fellow went on playing; only the fiddle now poured out riotous +Mazurs and such lively Obertas that the girls could scarce remain +seated, but must perforce squeeze their restless quivering knees +together to do so, while the boys stamped merrily and hummed the tunes, +and the whole room was in a tumult of noise and laughter, and the very +window-panes were shaking. + +On a sudden, a dog in the passage set up a lamentable howl, a howl so +piercing that on the spot the room became as still as death. + +“What is that?” + +Roch had dashed out so suddenly that he had narrowly missed falling over +the cabbage-cutter. + +“No great thing,” Antek cried, after a look into the passage; “some lad +has been squeezing a dog’s tail in the doorway.” + +“Vitek’s work, I make no doubt,” Boryna said. + +Yuzka defended the boy most earnestly: “What, Vitek cruel to a dog? +Never!” + +Roch now returned, very greatly agitated. He had probably let the dog +loose, for it was heard outside, whining close to the fence. + +“A dog, too, is God’s creature,” he said excitedly, “and it suffers when +ill-treated, as does any man. Our Lord also had a dog of His own, and +suffered no one to use it ill.” + +“What? The Lord Jesus had a dog, just as men have?” queried Yagustynka +the doubter. + +“I tell you that He had; and Burek was its name.” + +The statement was received with a chorus of exclamations: +“Well-a-day!—How now? Can this be!” and so on. + +Roch was silent for a while; then, raising his hoary head, covered with +long hair save in front, where it was cut straight and short over the +forehead, and fixing upon the fire those eyes out of which the colour +seemed to have been washed by many a tear, he began to speak slowly, his +beads slipping meanwhile through his fingers. + +“In those far-off bygone times, when Jesus our Lord yet walked upon this +earth, and ruled over the nations in His own Person, the thing of which +I shall tell you came to pass. + +“Now, Jesus was going to the local feast in the parish of Mstov. And +there was no road thither, but the way was through desolate burning +sands only; and the sun beat hot upon them, and the air was even as when +a storm is nigh at hand. + +“Nor was there any shade or shelter anywhere. + +“Our Lord walked on patiently; but though He was not yet near the +forest, His holy feet were quite numb with weary travel, and He felt +exceeding great thirst. Therefore did he again and again stop to rest on +some hillock upon the way: albeit the heat there was still greater, and +there was not enough shadow from the few dry stalks of mullein for even +a fowl of the air to find shelter. + +“But when He had seated Himself, it was hard for Him, without air to +breathe; for lo, immediately the Evil One—as a foul goshawk swooping +down on some weary little bird—would swoop down, beating up the sand +with his hoofs, and wallowing therein as would some unclean beast; and a +cloud of sand arose, hiding all things from sight in darkness. + +“Now Our Lord, although He neither could well breathe, nor indeed move +(so dark it was), rose up and walked on, only laughing to scorn the +foolish one, the fiend who would make Him lose His way, so that He might +not be there at the local feast to save the sinful people. + +“And Jesus walked and walked, until He came to the forest. + +“There, in the shadow, He rested somewhat, and refreshed Himself with +water, and with that which was in His scrip.... Then, breaking off a +bough for a staff, He crossed Himself, and entered the forest. + +“Now, that forest was most ancient and thick, with great fastnesses of +deep mire, and matted tangles of undergrowth and dense brushwood, almost +impervious even for a bird, wherein the Evil One himself surely did +dwell. Yet Jesus entered thither. + +“Whereupon, what did the fiend not do? He shook the forest, and howled, +and broke in twain the great branches with the help of the blast, as his +wicked attendant aiding him all it could; blowing the oak-trees down, +tearing the branches off, and roaring through the forest like one mad! + +“Moreover, it grew dark, blindingly dark, and on this side there was a +hubbub, and on that side a din, and on the other a whirlwind. And round +about Jesus there ran hellish imps, leaping, showing their long teeth, +glaring and snarling, and all but clutching at Him with their claws. +Only that they durst not do, for the awe they had of Christ’s most +sacred Person. + +“But when our Lord grew weary of all those foolish hobgoblins, being in +haste to arrive at the local feast, He made the sign of the Cross over +them—and behold, all the evil spirits with their impish helpers +straightway disappeared in the brushwood. + +“And lo, there remained only one wild dog; for in those days the dog had +not yet become the friend of man. + +“This dog therefore fled not, but, running after our Lord, barked at +Him; and following after, it tore at His capote, and snapped at His +scrip, and would fain have seized the meat which was therein.... But our +Lord, being merciful, and unwilling to harm any of His creatures, said +unto it: + +“‘Silly one, hungry one, behold! here is meat for thee!’ And He threw it +some, which He took from out of His scrip. + +“But the dog waxed still more angry, and in its fury it bared its teeth +and, snarling, attacked our Lord, and tore the hose which He was +wearing. + +“‘I gave bread unto thee; I harmed thee not: and yet thou tearest My +garments, and barkest to no avail? Thou art foolish, thou little dog of +mine, that thou knowest not thy Master! Because thou hast done this, +shalt thou be the servant of man, and helpless without him evermore.’ + +“When our Lord had said this, speaking in a loud voice, the dog sat down +on its hind quarters; and then, stupefied, with its tail between its +legs, it went away into the wide world. + +“Now, at the local feast, there were many, many people, thick as the +blades of grass on the meadows. + +“Only the church was empty. They were carousing in the taverns, and had +set up a great fair in the church cloisters, with drinking and lechery, +and sins against God, such as do happen even in our days. + +“Our Lord arrived when High Mass was over. He saw the people agitated +like the corn in the breeze, and running to and fro, some striking with +whips, some pulling stakes out of the fences, and others seeking for +stones; and the women were screaming and rushing to scramble over the +hedges, or into their carts; and the children wept. + +“They all were shouting aloud: ‘Lo, a mad dog! a mad dog!’ + +“And through the waves of the people the dog sped on, for all made way +for it to pass: so, with tongue lolling out, it darted straight towards +the Lord Jesus. + +“Our Lord feared it not, and He knew that it was the dog from the +forest; and He doffed His capote, speaking unto the dog; and it +straightway went no further. + +“‘Come hither, Burek,’ He said; ‘here, by My side, thou shalt be safer +than ever thou wast in the forest.’ + +“He covered it with His capote, and spread His hands out over it, and +said: + +“‘Kill it not, O men: for behold, it is a creature of God, wretched and +hungry, hunted and without a master.’ + +“Howbeit the peasants began to cry aloud, murmuring, and striking with +their staves upon the earth. + +“‘It was a wild and savage beast; it had carried away many geese and +lambs of theirs, and never ceased from doing evil. Nor did it reverence +man at all, but snapped at him with its fangs, so that none could go +abroad, unless he bore a stick. Wherefore it must needs be slain.’ + +“But Jesus waxed wroth, and cried: + +“‘Let no one stir!—O ye drunkards, ye fear a dog, and ye fear not the +Lord your God?’ + +“They then shrank back, for He had spoken with a mighty voice. And then +He said further that they were evil-doers, who had come to gain the +indulgence, and did but drink in the taverns, and offend God, and +repented them not; men accursed, ungodly, thieves and torturers one of +another; but they should not escape the judgments of God! + +“And having ended these words, the Lord Jesus took up His staff, and +made as if to depart. + +“But the people now knew who He was, and knelt down before Him, and +cried out and wept with great lamentations, saying: ‘Abide with us, +abide, O Lord Jesus! and we will be faithful unto Thee, we drunkards, we +ungodly ones, we evil-doers—only abide with us! Punish us, smite us, but +forsake us not, helpless orphans, a masterless people!’ And they wept so +sore, and begged so earnestly, kissing His sacred hands and feet, that +His heart softened towards them, and He remained the space of a few +prayers, teaching and shriving and blessing them all. + +“And when He departed from among them, He said: ‘Hath the dog done any +harm to you? Lo, it will hence-forward be your servant, and watch over +the geese and drive your sheep: and if one or another of you shall +sleep, having drunk over much, it shall be the guardian of your little +holdings, and your friend. + +“‘Only do ye treat it with kindness, nor do it any wrong.’ + +“So Jesus went forth, and left them. And looking round, He saw Burek, +sitting where He had stood by its side to defend it. + +“‘Wilt thou come with Me, Burek, or abide here in thy foolishness?’ + +“And thereupon the dog rose up; and thenceforth it always followed +Jesus, as quiet, as faithful, as watchful as the best of servants could +be. + +“And from that time forth, they were always together. + +“And if at any time a famine came over the land, the dog would catch a +small bird, or a gosling, or a lambkin; so that they both had +wherewithal to live. + +“Ofttimes also, when Jesus was tired, and rested Himself, Burek would +drive away wicked men and evil beasts, and not let them hurt Jesus. + +“But when it came to pass that the vile Jews and their cruel Pharisees +seized our Lord to put Him to death, then Burek flew at them all, poor +loving creature! and defended Him, using its teeth as it could. + +“But Jesus, stooping beneath the Tree which He was bearing for His +sacred Passion, said unto Burek: + +“‘Thou canst do no good: and behold, their consciences will bite them +deeper than thy teeth!’ + +“And when they hanged Him on the bitter Cross, Burek sat beside it, and +did howl. + +“Now, the next day, when all men had departed, and neither His blessed +Mother, nor His holy Apostles were there, Burek alone abode by His side, +and licked again and again the sacred dying feet of our Lord, pierced +through with nails; and it howled, and howled, and howled. + +“And when the third day rose, Jesus awoke from His swoon, and looked; +and no one was nigh Him beside the Cross, save only Burek, whining +pitifully, and fawning at His feet. + +“Then did Christ Jesus, our most Holy Lord, look mercifully upon it in +that hour, and say with His last dying breath: + +“‘Come with me, Burek!’ + + * * * * * + +“And the dog at that very instant did breathe its last, and follow its +Lord! + +“Amen. + +“All this came to pass as I have said, O dearly beloved,” Roch +concluded, pleasantly; and, making the sign of the cross, he passed over +to the other lodgings, where Hanka had prepared him a corner to sleep +in; for he was very tired. + +There was dead silence through the room for a time. All were pondering +over that strange fantastic story. Some of the girls—Yagna, Yuzka, and +Nastka amongst them—stealthily brushed their tears away; for their +emotions had been strongly excited, both by the doom of Christ, and by +the part played in it by the dog Burek. Also, the very fact that there +had been a dog upon earth better and more faithful to our Lord than men +were, gave them all much matter for reflection. Slowly, and at first +under their breath, they began to make various comments upon so +wonderful a Divine ordinance; when Yagustynka, who all the time had +listened with great attention, lifted up her head, and said with a +sneer: + +“Fiddle-de-dee, fiddle-de-dee!—One fable and two make three! I’ll tell +you a far better tale: how a man made an ox. + + “‘Of old the steer, + Not the ox, was made; + But a man took a blade— + Lo, the ox is here!’ + +“My tale is at least as true as Roch’s,” she said, with a burst of +laughter. Those about her laughed likewise, and presently the room was +full of jokes, and funny sayings and tales of all sorts. + +“Ah, there’s nothing that Yagustynka does not know!” + +“She has learned, she has learned; has she not buried three husbands?” + +“Oh, yes: the first taught her in the morning with a whip; the second at +noon with a strap; and the third in the evening with a cudgel!” Rafal +cried. + +“And a fourth would I take, but not you: too stupid a hobbledehoy for +me!” + +Here one of the young men observed: “As our Lord’s dog could not do +without men, so women cannot do without beating: the want of that is +what makes Yagustynka so spiteful.” + +“You’re a fool,” she retorted, with a fierce snarl. “Just you take heed +no one sees you, when you steal your father’s corn for Yankel; let +widows alone, they are beyond your understanding!”—Everyone was silent, +fearing lest she might, in a fit of anger, tell all she possibly might +know. Indeed, she was a most stiff-necked woman, who held her own +opinion on every matter, and would often utter such words as made men’s +flesh creep, and their hair stand on end. She had respect for no one, +not even for the priest and the Church. His Reverence had more than once +admonished her, but without effect: nay, she even talked about his +rebukes in the village. + +“Oh, without any priest we can all manage with God, if we are but honest +folk!—Let him rather take more heed of his housekeeper: she is with +child for the third time, and will soon be dropping it somewhere, as she +did before.” + +Such was her character. + +When they were about to separate, the Voyt came in with the Soltys, +giving orders that the peasants should go next day to work at repairing +the road by the mill: it had been damaged by the rains. No sooner had +the Voyt come in than he exclaimed, stretching out both arms: + +“Why, the old boy has invited all the prettiest girls in the village!” + +And so he had: all were of the best stock, and robust and blooming. + +The Voyt had a private talk with old Boryna, but no one could catch what +they said. He withdrew, after a few words of banter with the lasses, +having still half the village to summon for the morrow. They too +departed soon after, it being late. + +Boryna said farewell to each one in particular, and even saw the elder +women to the gate. + +Yagustynka, on leaving, raised her voice, and said: + +“God bless you for your good cheer; but all was not as it might have +been.” + +“Indeed?” + +“You need someone to keep house for you, Matthias: without such a one, +how can things go right?” + +“What’s to be done, friend? What’s to be done?... She died, it was God’s +will....” + +“Have we no girls here? Why, every Thursday they all wait for you to +propose to one of them,” she said, cunningly trying to draw him out. But +Boryna only scratched his head and smiled, looking instinctively towards +Yagna, who was going out. + +Antek expected her exit; so he dressed quickly and slipped out first. + +Yagna had to return alone: her companions all lived in the direction of +the mill. + +“Yagna!” he whispered, coming suddenly out of a hedge-side. + +She stopped, knew his voice, and was at once seized with emotion. + +“I’ll see you home, Yagna!”—He looked round; the night was black, +starless. Above them, the wind roared, sweeping over the tree-tops. + +His arm enclosed her waist in a tight grasp; and, one close to the +other, they both vanished in the gloom. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + +It was on the following day that the news of the marriage arranged +between Boryna and Yagna burst upon the village of Lipka. + +The Voyt had gone over to her with the proposal. His wife, whom he had +severely forbidden to breathe a single word about the matter until he +had come back with the answer, waited till evening to visit an +acquaintance, on the pretext of borrowing some salt; and as she went +away, she took her good friend apart, and whispered: + +“Do you know what? Boryna has just sent a proposal to Yagna, daughter of +Dominikova. But beware and tell no one, for my husband has forbidden me +to speak of it at all.” + +“Can this be?” she gasped in amazement. “Should my tongue wag of such a +thing about the village?... So old a man, taking a third wife!... And +his children, what will they say?... Oh, what a world it is!” + +No sooner had the Voyt’s wife withdrawn than, tying her apron over her +head, she hurried through the orchard to the Klembas’, “just to borrow a +bit of tow to scrub with.” + +“Have you heard? Boryna is to marry Yagna, daughter of Dominikova! He +has but now sent messengers with his proposal.” + +“Impossible! What do you say? Nay; he has full-grown children, and is +himself stricken in years.” + +“True, he is not young. But they will not refuse him for that.... A +farmer so reputable, a man so rich!” + +“Ah, but that Yagna! she that has had dalliance, and with more than one! +To be the wife of the first farmer here! Is there any justice in the +world, say? And meanwhile, so many a girl is remaining unwedded—my +younger sister, for example!” + +“Or my brother’s widow.... Or the Kopzyva girls.... Or Nastka, and many +another.—No, it is not seemly, ’tis not meet, not right; what think +you?” + +“She will be mightily puffed up, and strut about like a peacock, will +she not?” + +“Great offence of God there must be: be sure that neither the smith nor +Boryna’s children will suffer her as a stepmother.” + +“Alas, what can they do? The land is as much his own as his will is.” + +“By law, yes; but in justice, it belongs to them as well.” + +“My dear friend, justice is always for him who has the power to get it +on his side.” + +They continued thus, complaining and inveighing against the world and +all its deeds, and went their way. And with them the news spread +throughout the hamlet. + +The little work there was to do was not urgent; so the people were all +at home, the roads being as quaggy as so many sloughs; and the possible +marriage was discussed in every cabin. All were eagerly expectant of +what would take place. They well knew how headstrong Boryna was, and +that he would not be turned away from a course he had chosen for +himself, even were his Reverence to dissuade him. They knew, too, the +unyielding pride of Antek’s nature. + +Even those men who had been drafted to mend the mill-side road where the +dam had burst, stopped in their work to talk of so momentous an +occurrence. + +Various opinions were set forth; and at last, old Klemba, an intelligent +and respected farmer, gave the stern judgment: + +“The whole village will be the worse for this!” + +“Antek will not suffer it,” someone said. “What, another mouth to feed?” + +“That would make no difference. But the inheritance! There’s the rub.” + +“There will surely have to be a marriage settlement.” + +“Yes; Dominikova is shrewd, and will manage that.” + +“She is a mother,” Klemba put in, “and even a bitch will defend her own +puppies.” + +Thus, all the afternoon, the people in the village were talking the +matter over. Which was no wonder, the Boryna family being of the very +best stock of husbandmen, and Matthias holding land which had from time +immemorial belonged to his people, being also endowed with hereditary +keenness of wit, as well as riches; so that everybody, willingly or not, +had to take him into account. + +To none of his children, however, not even to the smith, durst anyone +tell the news: the rage it would cause might be so great as to result in +a sound thrashing for the teller. + +All then was quiet at Boryna’s hut; more so, indeed, than usual. The +rain had ceased since morning, and the sky was clear. Antek, along with +Kuba and the womenfolk, had been sent to the forest at once after +breakfast, in order to get some dry fuel, and see whether they could not +rake together some supply of pine-needles. + +Boryna himself had stayed at home. Since early morning, he had been +curiously ill-humoured and strangely irritable, always on the look-out +for someone who should bear the brunt of the impatience and nervousness +which had seized upon him. He had beaten Vitek for omitting to spread +straw beneath the cows, which consequently had spent the night with +their sides deep in dung; had quarrelled with Antek, and scolded Hanka, +because her little boy had dirtied himself while playing outside the +house; and had even spoken harshly to Yuzka. + +When he was at last alone with Yagustynka, engaged overnight to see to +the cattle the next day, he no longer knew what to do with himself. +Again and again did he call to mind what Ambrose had related of his +reception by Dominikova. Nevertheless he felt uneasy, and doubtful of +the old fellow, who was able to tell any lie to get a glass of vodka. So +he prowled about the hut, looking, now from the window, now from the +porch, in the direction of Yagna’s dwelling; and as a beggar waits for +alms, so he awaited the coming of the night. + +Many and many a time did he long to be off to the Voyt’s and urge the +man to start sooner: notwithstanding, he remained at home, restrained by +the look in Yagustynka’s eyes, half closed and expressive of sarcastic +amusement, which were continually fixed upon him. + +“That hag!” he said to himself; “her eyes are gimlets.” + +She meanwhile went about the house and passage with her distaff under +her armpit, seeing to things here and there. She span till her spindle +whirred in the air as it turned; then she wound up the thread, and went +out to the geese, the swine, the byre, while Lapa, drowsily and heavily, +followed her steps. She spoke not a word to the old man, though she well +knew what it was that tormented him so, and even drove him to put up +stakes round the walls for the winter sheathing that was to keep the +house warm. + +Now and then, however, she made halt in front of him; and at last she +said: “You seem not to be getting on with your work to-day.” + +“Devil take it! no, I’m not.” + +“Oh!” she thought, as she went away; “the place will be a hell ... a +hell!—But the old man is right to marry—quite right. If he did not, his +children would be sure to give him board and lodging—as mine have done +for me!... Yes, I made over a good ten acres of the very best land to +them. And here I am!” She spat angrily. “I must go out now to work, and +lodge in another’s dwelling!” + +At last the old man, unable to stand it any longer, tossed his ax away +and shouted: “Curse this work!” + +“There’s something that troubles your mind.” + +“There is, there is!” + +“And yet you have no reason in the world to be troubled.” + +“Much you know of it!” + +Yagustynka came and sat down close by the wall, pulled out a long +thread, wound it on the spindle, and said, slowly and not without +trepidation: + +“Fear nothing. Dominikova has a good head, and Yagna is no fool.” + +“What have you said!” he cried out delighted, and sat down by her side. + +“I have eyes to see.” + +There was a long pause, each awaiting what the other would say. + +“Just invite me to your wedding; and I’ll sing you such a Hop-song[18] +as will bring about a christening in the house in nine months....” So +she began; but, seeing the old man scowl, she changed her tone. + +----- + +Footnote 18: + + _Hop-song_—a very primitive sort of nuptial song.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“Matthias, you are doing just what you should do. Had I but sought out +another husband when mine died, I should not now have to lodge in a +house that is not my own. Oh, no!... But I was a simpleton, I trusted to +my children: they were to board me. I made over all I had to them: and +now?” + +“But I,” he answered in a hard voice, “will give up not one single bit +of ground.” + +“Right.—I had to drag my cause from court to court: the few _zloty_ that +I had went all that way, yet they got me no justice. And here I am in my +old age, degraded to a woman of all work!—Last Sunday I went to them, +only just to see my old place once more, and the orchard I had planted +myself; and my daughter-in-law beshrewed me, saying I had come to spy on +her! To spy, good heavens!... I thought I should fall down dead.—I went +to his Reverence, that he might rebuke them from the pulpit for those +words; but he told me that our Lord would make me amends for the wrong +they had done. Aye, aye! of course. For him that has nothing in the +world, even God’s grace is worth having; but I would far rather have +property here on earth, and sleep my fill in a warm room and a +feather-bed, and eat much butter and fat, and divert myself!” + +She continued holding forth against everything in the world, and with +such violence that Boryna left her, and sallied out to the Voyt’s: for +twilight was at hand. + +“Well, are you starting yet?” + +“This very minute: Simon will be here at once.” + +Simon appeared and all three went to the tavern, to toss off a dram and +get a flask of rum for the proposal-offering.... Ambrose, who was there +before them, joined them directly; but they could not drink long, for +Matthias was urging them to make haste. + +“I shall be waiting here for you. If they drink back, then bring them +hither.—And speedily!” he added, calling after them as they went out. + +They walked along the middle of the road, splashing through the mud. The +twilight deepened, covering the land with its gossamer web of sober +grey; and soon the village was no more, save for the cabin lights that +began twinkling through the dusk, and the barking of the watchdogs in +the farm-yards. + +“My fellow-messenger!” said the Voyt, after a time. + +“Well?” + +“Boryna’s wedding will, I fancy, be a grand one.” + +“That’s as it may be,” the other returned, in surly fashion; he was a +taciturn man. + +“It will, I tell you—I, the Voyt, a man whom you may believe. We shall +make such a match of it that.... Ha! ha!” + +“The mare may prove restive, if so be the stallion prove not to her +liking.” + +“That does not concern us in any wise.” + +“But his children—they will curse us, sure.” + +“All shall be well: I the Voyt tell you so.” + +And they walked into Dominikova’s hut. + +The room was lighted, and carefully swept; they were expected. + +The messengers “praised God”; then, greeting in turn everyone present, +took seats close to the fire-place, and opened the conversation. + +“The weather is cold; there seems to be a frost at hand.” + +“Very likely; it is not springtime, nor near it!” + +“Have you gathered in all the cabbages?” + +“All but a few that we cannot get in just now,” the old dame replied +indifferently, casting her eyes on Yagna, who was near the window, +making up skeins of spun flax, and who looked so comely that the Voyt, a +man still in the golden time of life, cast an eager glance at her, +before he said: + +“As the ways are foul and miry, and the night-air is dank, I and Simon +the Soltys here thought we would enter your dwelling on our way. And +seeing that you have received us with a kind and friendly welcome, +perchance, Mother, we may even drive a bargain with you.” + +“A bargain may be driven only when there is something about which to +drive it.” + +“Spoken truly, Mother, but that we have found already in your house: +livestock, and of the best.” + +“Well,” she cried, in good humour, “let us bargain, then.” + +“We would fain, for instance, bargain for a heifer of yours.” + +“Oho! that will be no small thing, and ye shall not lead her away with +the first rope at hand!” + +“As to that, we have for her a hallowed silver cord, and such that none +can break it, he be strong as ten.—Well, how much, Mother?” And he +pulled the flask of rum out of his pocket. + +“How much?—Hard to say! She is young, will be nineteen in spring: good +and hard-working. She might yet remain a year or two with her dam.” + +“Years without offspring, Mother; barren years!” + +“Ah,” Simon whispered, “were she other than she is, she might have +offspring, even should she stay with her dam!” + +The Voyt gave vent to a loud laugh. The old woman’s eyes flashed +angrily, and she made answer on the spot: + +“Seek another, then! Mine can wait.” + +“She can; but we can find nowhere another so beautiful, or of so good a +breed.” + +“Then what do you say?” + +“I who speak am the Voyt: so believe what I tell you.”—He took out a +glass, wiped it on the skirt of his capote, filled it with rum, and said +gravely: “Pay good heed, Dominikova, to what I say now. I am in office. +A bird on the bough may chirp and twitter, and is gone: my word is not +thus.—Simon too: all here know who he is; no man of straw, but a +husbandman, the father of a family, and our Soltys! Mark well, then, who +we are that come to you, and with what intention; mark this well.” + +“I do so, Peter, and most carefully.” + +“Now you, being a wise woman, must therefore know that, sooner or later, +Yagna will surely leave your house for her own, as the Lord hath +ordained. Parents breed up their children, not for themselves, but for +the public weal.” + +“Ah, Mother, ’tis true, ’tis true! + + “‘You may pet her and guard and caress, + But give her you must none the less; + Aye, and him that shall take her you’ll bless!’” + +“The world is made so, and there is no changing it.—Now, Mother, shall +we drink together?” + +“How can I say? I will not force her.—Will you drink, Yagna?” + +“I ... I don’t know,” she stammered in a thin voice, turning her burning +face to the window. + +“The lass is docile,” Simon put in, with gravity. “‘A docile calf, +beyond all doubt, thrives, sucks much milk, and waxes stout.’” + +“Well, shall I pass it on to you, Mother?” + +“Drink ye, by all means; but we do not yet know who it is proposes,” +Dominikova remarked, attentive to the rules of etiquette that required +her not to seem to know until told by the messenger. + +“Who?” he exclaimed. “Why, who but Boryna himself!” and he lifted his +glass. + +“What, an aged man! A widower!” she objected, as in duty bound. + +“Aged? ’Tis a sin to say so! Aged? and but now he was accused.” + +“I know: only the child was not his.” + +“How could it be? A man of such repute, was he to put up with any but +the very best?—Come, here’s to you, Mother!” + +“Fain would I drink; but he is a widower.—Old, he may soon be in +Abraham’s bosom: and what then? Her stepchildren would thrust her out.” + +Here Simon interposed. “Matthias,” he growled, “said there must needs be +a settlement.” + +“Of course before the wedding.” + +The Voyt, having filled another glass, turned with it to Yagna. + +“Come, drink, Yagna, drink to us! The swain we propose you is strong as +an oak: you’ll be his lady, the keeper of his household, the first of +all in the village! See, I drink to you, Yagna: do not be shamefaced!” + +She flushed scarlet, and turned away; but finally, throwing her apron +over her face, she tasted a little, and threw the rest on to the floor. + +The glass then passed round to all. The old dame produced bread and +salt, and lastly some dried and smoked sausages as a relish. + +Several times in succession did they drink, and in a little their +tongues were loosened. But Yagna had fled into the inner chamber, where, +she knew not why, her tears burst forth, her sobs becoming audible +through the partition. Her mother would have followed, but the Voyt kept +her back. + +“Even calves, when weaned from their dams, shed tears: ’tis common. She +is not to go away, no, not to the next village even: and you will still +enjoy each other’s company. It is I, the Voyt, who say it: she shall +come to no harm: believe me.” + +“Aye, but I always thought to have grandchildren for my consolation.” + +“Let not that trouble you. The first of them will be here before the +harvest!” + +“The future is known to the Lord alone, not to us sinners. We have drunk +to her betrothal, and yet my heart is heavy, as if ’twere a burial.” + +“Nothing strange. An only daughter, she ought to be duly mourned +over.... Yet a little more, to drive your grief away.—Ah, do you know, +let us all go to the tavern. There Yagna’s future husband awaits us, +boiling over with fierce impatience.” + +“Shall we celebrate such an occasion in a tavern?” + +“As our fathers of yore. I, the Voyt, have spoken.” + +Yagna and Dominikova put on their best dresses, and all started off. But +the Voyt remarked how disappointed her brothers were looking. “Are the +lads to remain, then?” he said. “It is their sister’s engagement-day: +some pleasure is due to them.” + +“Can we leave the house to the care of Providence?” + +“Then take Agatha from the Klembas; she will see to the place.” + +“She has gone begging. We shall get someone on our way. Well, Simon and +Andrew, come; but put your capotes on. Would you come in your shabby +everyday clothes?—And if either of you gets tipsy ... he will never +forget it!—The kine have not yet been cared for, and ye must mash +potatoes for the swine.—See ye to it.” + +“We will, Mother, we will!” they both exclaimed, trembling with fear, +though they were both big lads, as high as a small pear-tree, such as +are planted along the fields. + +And so presently they went to the tavern. + +The night was murky and as dark as pitch, as is usual enough during the +autumn rains. The wind roared overhead, swaying the tree-tops till they +nearly lashed the neighbouring hedges. + +When they arrived, the tavern had a gloomy look. A pane had been broken +in the window, and the gusts that entered made the tiny lamp which hung +above the bar by a cord swing there to and fro like a golden flower. + +Boryna rushed to welcome and embrace and hug them warmly, knowing that +Yagna was already as good as his own. + +“Our Lord hath said: ‘Thou worm, take unto thee a wife, that thou, poor +wretch, shouldst not suffer loneliness!’” So Ambrose said, or bleated +rather: he had been drinking for more than an hour, and was good for +little, either in the talking or the walking line. + +The Jew instantly set before them rum, sweetened vodka, and “essence”; +also salt herrings, saffron-seasoned cakes, and others (very dainty) +made with poppy-seed. + +“Eat ye, drink ye, dearly beloved brethren, true Christians!” cried +Ambrose, taking upon himself to invite the guests. “I had a wife +once—but cannot at all remember now where—In France, I think—no, in +Italy! No, not there—but now I am bereft and a widower.... I tell you: +our ancients used to cry thus: ‘Attention!’” + +Here Boryna interrupted him. “Drink deep, friends!... And you, Peter, +give the example!” And then he brought Yagna a whole _zloty’s_ worth of +caramels, and put them into her hand. “Here you are, Yagna, they are +very sweet: here you are!” + +She made as if she were disinclined to take them. “They cost so much +money,” she said. + +“Fear not, I can well afford it.... You will see later.—Oh, if pigeon’s +milk were to be bought for any money, I would buy some for you, dear! +Oh, how happy you will be with me!” And, taking her round the waist, he +pressed her to partake of all that was there. And she did: accepting +all, however, as coolly and indifferently as if it were someone else’s +engagement-day. She only thought: “Will the old man give it me before +the wedding, that coral necklace he told me of at the fair?” + +And now they began to drink in earnest—rum and sweetened vodka +alternately, and all talked at the same time. Even Dominikova was not a +little flustered, and she chattered and held forth about many a matter, +so that the Voyt wondered at the wisdom she displayed. + +Her sons were likewise in their cups, for again and again either Ambrose +or the Voyt urged them to take some more. “Toss off your glasses, boys, +’tis Yagna’s engagement-day!” + +“Yes, yes, we know,” they answered, and wanted to kiss the old sexton’s +hand. + +It was then that Dominikova took Boryna apart to have a straight talk +with the man. + +“Yagna is yours—yes, yours, Matthias!” + +“Thanks, Mother, for your gift of her.” He put his arm round her neck +and embraced her. + +“You promised to make her a settlement, I understand.” + +“Why need there be any? All I have is hers.” + +“In order that she may look her stepchildren in the face and laugh at +their curses.” + +“Woe betide them, if they interfere! All is mine, all is Yagna’s.” + +“Kindly said. Only note this: you are somewhat elderly. Besides, we all +are mortal. And, you know: + + “‘Death none can refuse: + He takes all he can, + Now a lamb, now a man, + Not caring to choose!’” + +“Oh, but I am hale—good for a score of years yet. Never you fear!” + +“‘Never-Fear was eaten by the wolves.’” + +“Well, I am glad you speak out! Would you have me settle on her the +three acres I have, close to Luke’s field?” + +“‘A hungry dog will try even to catch a fly,’ as they say; but we are +not hungry. Yagusia is to inherit five acres, besides one of +forest-land, from her father. Settle six acres on her, you: those six +where you grew potatoes last summer—close to the road.” + +“My very best fields!” + +“Yagna too is the pick of the village.” + +“She is, indeed: therefore I sent you my proposers. But, mercy on us! +six acres! It is a whole farm!” He scratched his head in perplexity; for +his heart was sore at the thought of giving up so much of his best land. + +“My good friend, consider, like the intelligent man you are, and you +will see that the settlement is only a protection for my daughter. No +one can take the land from you, so long as you live: while all that +Yagna has inherited from her father will be yours at once. I will send +for a land-surveyor when spring comes round, and you will even be able +to sow it then. And, seeing that such an arrangement cannot harm you, +you will readily settle those six acres upon her.” + +“Good: I will.” + +“And when?” + +“To-morrow, if you like!—No, on Saturday, when we have put up the banns; +we shall then go straight to town. After all: ‘A goat dies once, and +then—Never again!’” + +“Come hither, Yagna, daughter dear!” She called to the girl, whom the +Voyt was pushing towards the bar, while telling her something that made +her laugh loud. + +“Yagna, Matthias here will settle on you those six roadside acres of +his.” + +“Many thanks,” she murmured, and offered him her hand. + +“Drink ye all to Yagna, most sweet Yagna!” + +They drank, and Matthias put his arm round her waist to lead her to the +other guests assembled; but she slipped away, and ran to her brothers, +who were talking and drinking with Ambrose. + +In the tavern, the din was ever growing louder and louder, as more +people dropped in. Many, hearing voices, had come in to know what was +going forward: some, too, to get a drink for nothing. Even the blind old +man, led by his dog, was there in a good place, where all could see him; +and he now listened and now said prayers aloud; so loud that Dominikova, +hearing him, gave him some vodka, a morsel to eat, and a few kopeks +besides. + +The carouse went on; and soon, as is customary on such occasions, +everybody was dear friend and own brother to everybody else. + +The only silent one was the Jew. To and fro he glided, ever setting more +and more spirits and bottles of beer before his guests, and scoring up +everything with chalk behind the door. + +Boryna, beside himself with joy, took dram after dram, urged his guests +to drink, talked as he had seldom in his life been heard to talk, and +was incessantly coming round to Yagna, offering her dainties, stroking +her beautiful face, and taking her into some dusky corner, with his arm +round her. + +Very soon Dominikova saw it was high time to go home, and called her +sons to set out with her. + +Simon was quite fuddled now; so when she spoke, he set his girdle +straight, smote the table with his fist, and cried out: + +“Out upon it! I am a farmer, I! Who cares to go, let him go. If I choose +to stay and drink, I will.—More vodka, you Jew!” + +“Be silent, Simon! Oh, be silent: else she will trounce you!” So Andrew +moaned, with maudlin tears in his eyes, pulling his brother by the coat. +He, too, was very far gone. + +“Boys!” she hissed, threateningly, “home! come home!” + +“I am a farmer. I! If I choose to stay, Lo, I stay, and drink.... I have +enough of Mother’s rule.... Thwart me, and I turn you out! Down with it +all!” + +But the old woman then struck him such a blow in the chest that he +staggered and was sobered forthwith. Andrew took him out into the road, +after placing his cap on his head. But the cold air overcame Simon once +more: he only took a few steps forwards, then tottered, caught at the +hedge, and fell down, shrieking and groaning. + +“’Sdeath! I am a farmer. The property is mine, and I drink, if I choose; +and if I choose, I work!—Jew! more rum!—Thwart me, and I turn you out!” + +“Simon! Simon! For God’s sake!” whimpered Andrew, weeping abundantly; +“come home, Mother is after you!” + +Indeed, she was there directly, together with Yagna; and they both got +the lads from beneath the hedge, where they were making some feeble +attempts to fight. + +After their departure, other people also went out, and the tavern grew +somewhat less noisy. At last no one remained there but Boryna and his +messengers, with Ambrose and the blind beggar, all now drinking at one +table. + +Ambrose was very mellow indeed. He stood up in their midst, now singing, +now shouting very loud. + +“He was quite black—black as that pot! He aimed ... but where did he hit +me? where?... And I—I thrust my bayonet into him, and twisted it: I +heard his inside gurgle!—So we halt—halt! And the commander himself +arrives with more men.—Ah! the commander! ‘Boys,’ he says, ‘boys!’” + +“‘Attention!’” the old man cried, in a voice of thunder. And he stood +stiffly erect, and stepped slowly backwards, his wooden leg stumping +along the floor: “Drink to me, Peter! to me who am an orphan!” he +bleated out; but when close to the wall, suddenly he whipped out of the +place. But they could still hear the braying of his voice, raised in +song outside. + +Just then the miller entered the tavern: a big burly fellow, red-faced, +dressed town-fashion, and with small keen eyes. + +“Drink, lads, drink together!—Ho, ho! the Voyt, the Soltys, and +Boryna!—Is it a wedding?” + +“No, it is not.—Sir miller, take a drink with us,” Boryna said. + +And once more the vodka went round. + +“Well, now to you all three thus together, I shall tell some news that +will sober you in no time.” + +All stared at him vacantly. + +“Not an hour since, the Squire sold the clearing of Vilche Doly!” + +“The hound! the miscreant! What, sell a clearing that belongs to our +village!” Boryna shouted, smashing a bottle on the floor in a fit of +rage. “Sold it, has he? But there is law—law both for the Squire and for +all of us!” Simon stammered; he was completely intoxicated. + +“It’s false! I, your Voyt, have spoken: believe me, it’s false!” + +“Sold it! Ha!—But we won’t let anyone take it: as there’s a God in +heaven, we won’t!” Boryna growled, and he brought his fist down upon the +table. + +The miller left them, and they stayed there far into the night, taking +counsel together, and breathing threats against the manor-folk. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + +It was shortly after Yagna’s engagement had taken place; All Souls’ Day +had dawned. + +Ever since morning, the church-bells of Lipka had tolled incessantly, +slowly; their doleful and sorrowful notes, floating over the desolate +fields, called the people together with deep-sounding voices of sadness +on this day, which rose pallid and swaddled in fog, as far as the +far-off horizon—where the earth and the sky met, no one knew where, in a +vague unfathomed abyss of vacuity. + +Now, as soon as the sun arose in the east, which still glowed red as +copper molten and cooling, hosts of crows and daws had been coming +thence, winging their flight from beyond the lurid clouds. + +They flew very high; so high that neither the eye could well make them +out, nor the ear catch distinctly the wild and melancholy harshness of +their croaking, which sounded like weeping in the autumn night. + +And from the belfry, the tolling sounded continually. + +The deep notes of that doleful hymn rolled heavily through the thick +nebulous air—rolled all over the country-side, and men and fields and +villages seemed as one vast heart, throbbing to the dismal dirge. + +And still the flocks of birds increased, even to the dismay and +stupefaction of the people; for now they flew lower, ever in vaster +multitudes, sprinkling the sky as with scattered specks of soot; and the +dull flapping and croaking was now louder, more boisterous, more +turbulent—like a storm that is drawing nigh. They swept in circles over +the village: and as a heap of dead leaves the blast plays with, so they +wheeled over the ploughed lands, floated down to the woods, hung above +the skeleton poplar-trees, took possession of the lindens round about +the church, and perched upon the trees in the burial-ground. + +“A severe winter it will be,” people said. + +“Snow is going to fall—they are flying towards the woods.” + +They now approached the huts in still greater numbers; never before had +so many been seen together. People looked at them, sighing, in fear of +an evil omen, and some made on their brows the sign of the Cross, as a +protection from the evil to come, and put on their garments to set out +for church. And continually the tolling sounded with a dull roar; from +the neighbouring villages the people were already coming to pray. + +An all-pervading sense of desolation filled every soul; in every heart, +there reigned a strange distressful silence: the stillness of mournful +reminiscences, the recollections of those who had gone before, gone to +lie beneath the drooping birch-trees, and the darkly looming crosses, +that stood slantwise in the churchyard. + +“O my Jesus! O my beloved Jesus!” they would murmur, and then raise up +their ashen-grey faces, and fear no longer, plunging into the mystery of +futurity: and they calmly went forward to present their offerings and to +say their prayers for the dead. + +The whole village was as though lost in a sea of grave and +heart-stricken quietude: only the whining singsong of the _Dziads_ at +the church-door now and then broke the stillness. + +At Boryna’s, the silence was especially deep: though indeed it was of +that hell which reigned amongst them, and was on the point of bursting +forth. + +His children knew all by that time. + +The day before being Sunday, the first banns had been published from the +pulpit. On Saturday, Boryna had gone with Yagna to town, where he had +settled six acres of land upon her in the presence of a notary. He came +back late, and with his face scratched. Being the worse for liquor, he +had behaved disrespectfully to Yagna; but had only got acquainted with +the strength of her arm and the sharpness of her nails. + +On his return, he said no word to anyone, but went to bed as he was—in +his boots and sheepskin coat; and when Yuzka next morning complained +that he had soiled his feather-bed with mud: + +“Let me alone, Yuzka, let me alone!” he answered her merrily. “Such a +thing may happen sometimes, even to one who has not been drinking.” + +In the morning he had gone over to Yagna, and stayed all day: at home, +dinner and supper waited for him in vain. + +This day, too, he rose late, considerably after dawn, put on his best +capote, ordered Vitek to smear his Sunday boots with grease and line +them with fresh-cut straw, was shaved by Kuba, girt himself, and, taking +his hat, slipped out through the fence, and was seen there no more that +day. + +Yuzka cried all the time. Antek was in the grip of tortures, even +sharper and more agonizing, and could neither eat, nor sleep, nor busy +himself in any way. He felt dazed as yet, and could not wholly realize +what had come to pass. His face had grown sombre, but his eyes seemed +larger, and flaming glassily—full of hardened tears, as it were. He had +to clench his teeth lest he should cry out and curse aloud, and was +continually walking about the cabin, or around it, or about the +enclosure, or in the road; and on coming back, he would throw himself on +a bench in the porch, and sit there motionless for hours, racked by +sufferings that were ever growing more intolerable. + +The house was dreary, and within it there continually resounded the +sound of weeping, as sobs and sighs resound in a house wherein someone +lies dead. The doors of the byre and the sties stood wide open, the +cattle and swine wandered about at liberty in the orchard, some even +looking in at the windows. No one attempted to interfere with them but +old Lapa, who barked and tried to drive them in again, but +unsuccessfully. + +Sitting on his truckle-bed in the stable, Kuba was cleaning a gun, while +Vitek, gazing at him in wondering awe, took care to keep a look-out on +the yard, for fear someone might drop in. + +“Oh, what a noise it made! Lord! I thought it was the Squire or the +keeper shooting.” + +“Ah, yes. I had not shot for ever so long, and the charge I put in was +too big: it roared like a cannon.” + +“Did you go in the evening at once?” + +“Aye, to the manor lands close to the wood. The roebucks are fond of +coming that way to crop the sprouting blades in the sown fields. It was +very dark, and I had long to wait. Just at dawn, a buck came by. I was +so well hidden that he was only five paces away from me. But I did not +shoot. He was as big as an ox, and I knew I could not carry him off. So +I spared him; and after the space of a few Paters, some does appeared. I +chose the finest, and took aim. What a report there was! I had put in a +heavy charge: it kicked so, my shoulder is one bruise still. And the doe +fell; but she still kicked, and made such a fearful noise that I was +afraid the keeper might hear, and I had to cut her throat.” + +Vitek was full of enthusiasm. + +“And—did you leave her in the wood?” + +“Where I left her, I left her: it’s no business of yours. And if you say +a single word about this to anyone ... you’ll see what I shall do to +you!” + +“I won’t, if you forbid me; but may I not tell Yuzka?” + +“The whole village would know directly. No.—But, here is a five-kopek +piece, for you to buy something with.” + +“Without that, I’d hold my tongue.—But, O dear, dear Kuba! take me with +you some day!” + +“Breakfast!” Yuzka was in front of the cabin, calling to them. + +“Be easy, Vitek, I shall take you.” + +“And you’ll let me shoot—once, only once?” he entreated. + +“Silly one! think you they give gunpowder for nothing?” + +“But I have money, Kuba, I have. Master gave me two _zloty_ for the last +fair, and I was keeping them for the Memorial offering. But....” + +“Very well; I shall teach you how to shoot,” he whispered, patting the +boy’s head, and touched by his appeal. + +Almost as soon as they had finished breakfast, they went together to +church. Kuba limped along as fast as he could; but Vitek lagged a little +behind: he was ashamed to have to go barefoot, for he had no boots. + +“Is it right to go into the vestry without boots?” he queried in a low +voice. + +“You are foolish. Does our Lord consider a man’s boots, not his +prayers?” + +“True; but are not boots more respectful?” he whispered sadly. + +“Oh, you will get boots one of these days.” + +“That I shall! Let me but grow up to be a farm-hand, I shall directly go +off to Warsaw and get a place in some stable. In the town, they all wear +boots, don’t they, Kuba?” + +“They do.—Can you remember anything about Warsaw, Vitek?” + +“Of course. I was five when Kozlova brought me here; so I recollect +perfectly.... Yes, we went on foot to the station, and there I saw no +end of glowing lights ... and houses all one close to another, and as +big as churches.” + +“Nonsense!” cried Kuba, disdainfully. + +“But I remember quite well. I could not see the roofs, they were so +high. Windows, too, to the very ground. Whole walls of windows! And +everywhere bells were ringing continually.” + +“No wonder; there are so many churches there.” + +“Else whence could the ringing have come?” + +And now they were silent, having entered the churchyard and begun to +push their way through the dense throngs that filled all the space round +the church, not being able to get in. + +There the _Dziads_ had formed a lane from the church to the road, crying +out, screaming, uttering prayers, or asking alms, each in his own way; +some were playing on fiddles, and droning out hymns in mournful voices; +others on flageolets or concertinas; and all together causing such a +racket as almost to make one deaf. + +The vestry, too, was full of people: so full that they were sorely +squeezed against the tables, where the organist and his son (the one who +had been at school) were taking down the names given for the Memorial +offerings. + +Kuba got through the press, and rolled off a long list of names to the +organist, who wrote them down, and received for each soul three kopeks, +or as many eggs (in case one had no ready cash). + +Vitek was not able to push forward so fast, for his bare feet were +sorely trod upon, but he got on as well as he could, clutching the money +in his hand. When, however, he found himself in front of the organist at +the table, he felt suddenly overwhelmed and tongue-tied with confusion. +What! only farmers and farmers’ wives round him—almost all those of the +village...? Even the miller’s wife was there, wearing a hat like the +wife of the Squire!—And the blacksmith and the Voyt, with their +dames—all giving the names of those whose souls they wished remembered; +some as many as a score of them—all the family, and their fathers and +forefathers—And he ... what name could he give? His own father, his +mother—what names had they? Could he tell? For whom, then, should his +offering be made?... “O my Jesus, my little Jesus!” he cried in his +soul; but his mouth remained wide open, and he stood there like a +witling. His heart was wrung with an agony of grief, he could hardly +draw his breath, and he felt so faint that he was like to drop down as +one dead. But he could not stay there; the crowd shoved him aside into a +corner, beneath the holy water stoup: and, in order not to fall, he +crouched down with his head against the tin basin, while tears gushed +forth and fell, like the beads of some rosary of desolation. It was in +vain that he tried to keep them back; he was so shaken, so unnerved in +every limb, that he had not even the strength to clench his teeth and +stand up. So he crept into a corner out of sight, and wept abundant +tears—the bitter tears of a fatherless, motherless boy. + +“Mother, O Mother!” something within him was crying, and tearing his +heart to pieces.... He could not think why each of the other lads had +his father and his mother, while he alone was without either—bereft—and +how bereft—of both! + +“Jesus, my Jesus!” he sobbed, crying out like a poor bird strangling in +a snare.... It was then that Kuba came upon him and said: + +“Vitek, have you given in your Memorial offering?” + +“Not yet,” he returned; and, suddenly drying his eyes, he forced his way +back to the table. Yes: he would give names. Did it concern anyone that +he had no parents he knew? If he had none, it was his own affair. If he +was a foundling, a foundling let him be.—He therefore took heart, wiped +his eyes, and boldly gave the names Josephine, Marianna, Anthony—the +first that occurred to him. + +He paid, took the change, and went with Kuba into the church to pray and +hear the priest read the names of his dear departed! + +A catafalque, bearing a coffin at its summit, had been raised in the +centre of the church. Round it many tapers were burning, while the +priest read aloud from the pulpit an interminable list of names. Now and +then he stopped, and the whole congregation said the Paters, Aves, and +Credos that should relieve the souls of the faithful departed. + +Vitek knelt down by the side of Kuba; the latter took out a rosary, and +counted thereon all the prayers which the priest had recommended. Vitek +too recited a few prayers; but the monotonous sounds soon made him +drowsy, and, worn out by the heat of the place and his recent fit of +tears, he presently rested his head against Kuba and went to sleep. + + * * * * * + +In the afternoon, all the Boryna family were present at the Vespers +which were sung once a year in the churchyard mortuary chapel. Antek and +his family, the blacksmith and his, Yuzka accompanied by Yagustynka, and +Vitek, and Kuba dragging himself in the rear, had come, determined to +make the most they could of All Souls’ Day. + +As a man shuts his weary eyelids, and plunges into dark unfathomable +shadows, so evening was closing in; the wind sounded with a dreary +voice, long drawn out, and wafted the odours of many a mouldering leaf, +redolent with unpleasant effluvia. + +The country-side was serene, with the strange and sombre calm of that +anniversary of sadness. The crowds went about their way—as it were, in +painful silence; their trampling boots echoed with dull dead sounds: the +roadside trees waved their boughs restlessly, and swayed overhead with a +sad sullen murmur. + +In front of the lich-gate and about the graves along the wall, stood +rows of barrels, and many a _Dziad_ was close by. It was by this road +that the people came along to the burial-ground. The twilight had +already covered the world, sprinkling it with its ashen greyness, +although there twinkled athwart its folds many a rustic lamp (fed with +butter for oil!), with yellow flickering flame. Each one, on entering +the churchyard, took from his wallet either bread, or cheese, or a piece +of bacon or of sausage; or a skein of thread, or else a handful of +combed flax; sometimes even a string of dried mushrooms. These they +deposited piously in one of the barrels that stood open there; they +formed offerings for the priest, for the sacristan Ambrose, for the +organist—and, lastly, for the _Dziads_. Such as had no offerings in kind +to give, put a few kopeks into the outstretched hands of the latter, +whispering the names of the dead for whom they asked them to intercede. + +About the lich-gate, then, there was a continuous cadence of names +called out, and prayers, and chants, in broken and unequal rhythm. The +people went on and soon disappeared, vanishing among the graves. +Presently, like so many glow-worms, tiny lights began to shine and +tremble in the dusky thickets and the dry grass. + +Breaking the stillness, which, as it were, exhaled from out of the +earth, prayers were everywhere audible, in low quavering tones of awe. +Now and again there would come from some grave a heart-broken sigh; +sometimes a thrilling lament would rise from the winding paths around +the crosses; and then a sudden short shriek of despair would burst +forth, rending the air like a flash of lightning; or the faint weeping +of children would be heard among the murky bushes, like the chirping of +unfledged birds in their nests. + +From time to time, there would creep over the churchyard a dull and +dreary silence, when only the trees were audible, murmuring ominously, +as the sound of human miseries and sorrows and clamorous agony floated +up to Heaven. + +They went about the graves noiselessly, and terror-struck they stared +into the dim and unknown distance. + +“All must die!” they muttered, in tones of torpid palsy-stricken +resignation, and went on further, to sit by the graves of their fathers, +and either recite orisons, or remain motionless, in a reverie that +deadened both love of life and fear of death—aye, and even abhorrence of +pain. They were like trees, bowing low in the blast; and, like them, +their souls quivered slumberously: dismayed, yet benumbed. + +“O my Jesus! O merciful Lord! O Mary!”—such were the ejaculations which +burst forth from their tormented souls. They raised their faces—now +expressionless with grief—and fixed their hollow eyes on the crosses, +and on those trees in drowsy yet perpetual motion: and falling on their +knees at the feet of the crucified Christ, they laid before Him their +fear-stricken hearts, and shed tears of resignation and self-surrender. + +Kuba went with Vitek in the same direction; but when it became quite +dark, the former crawled further on—away to the old burial-ground. There +the forgotten ones lay—those whose very memory had perished long ago, +with their days, and the times they lived in, and all the past. There, +only ill-omened birds uttered hoarse croakings, and the bushes rustled +mournfully near some cross of rotting wood that still remained standing +here and there. In this forgotten nook lay side by side whole families, +hamlets, generations: no one came there to pray, to shed tears, to light +lamps any more. The gale alone blew fiercely through the boughs, tore +off the last of their leaves, and tossed them away into the night, to be +lost therein. And voices howled that were not voices; and shadows +moved—but were they only shadows?—striking at random against the trees, +as though they had been blinded birds, and seeming to moan and beg for +pity! + +Kuba took from his bosom several pieces of bread that he had put by. +Kneeling down, he broke them, and threw the morsels about among the +tombs. + +“Food for you there is, O Christian soul!” he whispered, very earnestly. +“I forget you not at eventide.—Food for you, O sufferer that was +mortal!—Food for you!” + +“And will they take it?” Vitek asked in terror. + +“Beyond doubt!—Our priest forbids it.[19]—The others put the food into +those barrels, and these poor creatures get nothing. But what? Shall the +priest’s and the _Dziads’_ swine have to eat, and Christian ghosts stray +starving!” + +----- + +Footnote 19: + + Because it was a superstition: a very old one, no doubt, come down + from prehistoric times, and now all but dead in Poland, if not quite + so. Mickiewicz’s poem “Dziady” deals with something similar which he + came across in Lithuania, about a century ago.—_Translator’s Note._ + +“Ah! will they come hither?” + +“Yea, all who suffer the cleansing fires—all. Jesus lets them back to +earth for to-day, to visit their people.” + +“To visit them!” Vitek repeated, shuddering. + +“Fear not. On this day, nothing evil has any power to harm: the Memorial +offerings have driven him away—him, the bad Angel! So have the lamps. +And our Lord comes in person about the world, and He, the beloved +Shepherd, goes counting how many souls are His yet, and choosing from +amongst them.” + +“Oh, does our Lord Jesus come to the earth to-day?” Vitek said faintly, +looking around. + +“Do you think to see Him? That only Saints can do—and persons greatly +wronged.” + +“See, see, lights are there; and there are people too,” Vitek cried out +in alarm, and he pointed to a long row of graves close to the hedge. + +“Ah, there lie those slain during our insurrection. Yes, my master lies +there; aye, and my mother too.” + +They forced their way through the underwood, and knelt down by the +graves. These had fallen in, and were so level with the rest of the +ground that they could hardly be traced. They were marked by no crosses, +overshadowed by no trees. Only barren sand was there, and a few dry +stalks of mullein: all was stillness, oblivion, death. + +Ambrose, together with Yagustynka and old Klemba, were kneeling beside +those perishing graves. A few lamps glimmered, fixed in the sand; the +winds made them wave and tremble, and carried away the supplications +into the blackness of the night. + +“Aye; there lies my mother,” Kuba said, rather to himself than to the +boy, who had crept close to him, chilled to the very marrow. + +“Magdalena was her name. My father had land of his own: he served as +coachman to the manor, but never drove out, save with the old Squire, +and stallions to the coach!... After that, he died.... His uncle +inherited the land, and I became swineherd to the manor.... Yes, +Magdalena was my mother’s, and Peter, my father’s name: surname, Soha, +and I bear it.... Then the Squire set to making me coachman, to drive +with his stallions, as my father had done.... I was continually going to +the chase, with Master and other gentlemen; and I learned to shoot +pretty well myself; and the son of the Squire gave me a gun.... + +“I remember perfectly.... When they all went out for the insurrection, +they took me with them too.... I fought for a whole year: killed more +than one Russian grey dog ... more than two, even.... Then the Squire’s +son was shot in the belly. His bowels gushed out. He was my master, and +a good man; so I took him on my shoulders and carried him away.... +Later, he got off somewhere to a warm country, but first gave me a +letter to take to his father. Well, I went. I was weary of all, +dog-tired ... got shot in the leg on my way, and it would not heal; for +I was always out of doors, sleeping under the stars.... Then came snow, +and a terrible frost:—I remember well!... So I got there ... at night +... and looked about for the place.—Oh, what a thunderstroke!—No more +manor—no more barns—no more hedges, even. All had been burned down to +the ground.... And the old Squire ... and his lady ... and my mother too +... and also the girl Yosefka, who was chambermaid there ... all lay in +the garden, slaughtered!—O Jesus! Jesus!—Aye, I remember.—O holy Mary!” +These last words he uttered very low; great tears that he did not care +to hide ran down his cheeks in floods, and he heaved deep sighs, as that +night rose again before him. + +The darkness grew more and more intense; the blast caught more and more +fiercely at the trees; the long tresses of the birch-boughs thrashed the +graves about them, and their trunks, white as sheeted ghosts, loomed +dimly through the gloom. The folk were leaving the place, the lamps +going out, the hymns of the _Dziads_ dying away. A solemn silence, +disturbed only by weird rustlings and thrilling whispers, now reigned +among the tombs. The graveyard seemed filled with shadowy forms, the +bushes bore questionable shapes; there were melodies of lulled soft +moans, oceans of eerie tremors, movements of shapeless things in the +dark, bursts of dread hushed sobs, mysterious and horror-breathing +alarms which made the heart sink. Throughout the village, the very dogs +were howling with long despairing howls. + +On this holiday alone, Lipka was hushed. The roads were deserted, the +inn-doors closed. Through the tiny mist-blurred window-panes of a few +huts, lights were seen to shine, and holy hymns heard to quaver timidly +forth, with loud supplications to God for the souls of the faithful +departed. + +Outside the cabins, the folk glided about in fear; in fear did they +listen to the quiet sighs of the trees; in fear did they look towards +the window, lest there should appear to them one of those who, on this +day, wander by God’s decree and their own yearning—lest they should be +heard lamenting where four roads meet—or be seen looking sorrowfully in +through the window. + +Outside certain huts, the husbandmen—following ancient customs—set the +remains of the evening meal for the hungry ghosts to partake of and, +crossing themselves, breathed some such invitation: “O Christian soul +that still abidest in the place of cleansing, lo! here is refreshment +for thee!” + +And thus, in stillness and sadness, amidst memories and fears, did the +evening of All Souls’ Day come to an end. + +On Antek’s side of his father’s cabin sat Roch, the pilgrim to our +Lord’s sepulchre, reading and telling many a pious and holy legend. + +People were there not a few: for both Ambrose and Yagustynka and Klemba +had come, Kuba and Vitek, Yuzka and Nastusia: the only one absent was +old Boryna, who remained at Yagna’s till late in the night. + +Save for the crickets that cried and the pine-knots that crackled on the +hearth or in the fire, the cabin was still as death. + +They all were sitting on benches round the fire; Antek alone sat looking +out of the window. Roch now and then drew the red embers together with +his staff, while he spoke thus, in a soft hushed voice: + +“It is not terrible to die.—Oh, no! + +“As birds in winter fly to a warmer land, so do our weary little souls +long to fly to Jesus. + +“Though the trees stand bare in winter, yet are they clothed in spring +by the Lord with green leaves and scented blossoms: thus, O thou soul of +man, dost thou go to Jesus to find with Him joy, and spring, and +gladness, and vesture eternal! + +“As the sun caresses our weary earth, fatigued with fruit-bearing, so +doth our Lord caress each soul, and make it forget the past winter of +anguish and death. + +“Ah me! for in this world there is naught but trouble, and wailing, and +woe! + +“And evil increases and multiplies, as doth the thistle in the +woodlands! + +“All things are vain and to no purpose ... like tinder-wood, and like +the bubbles which the wind maketh on the water and driveth away. + +“And there is no faith, nor hope, save in God alone!” + + + + + CHAPTER X + + +“I speak of this, both from the pulpit, and to every man in +particular....”—The wind put an end to the rest of the sentence by +blowing violently down the priest’s throat, making him fall into a fit +of coughing. Antek was silent. + +The gale was growing fiercer, sweeping down the road, lashing the +poplars, storming through them, and causing them to bend and moan and +shriek aloud with rage. + +“Man, I have told you,” the priest went on to say, “that I myself took +the mare down to the pond.... Blind as she is, she may go astray in some +coppice, and perhaps break a leg.”—The very thought made him turn pale, +and he continued looking under every tree, and seeking in every field. + +“Well, but she always went about freely.” + +“She knows well her way to the pond. Anyone might find a pail for her to +drink from, and then turn her round: she would have come back by +herself.... Valek!” he suddenly cried, thinking he saw someone among the +poplars. + +“I saw Valek on our side of the pond; but that was before twilight set +in.” + +“Gone perhaps to look for her: a little too late!... A mare twenty years +old! She was foaled soon after I came here, and deserves to be fed for +mercy’s sake.... As much attached as any man can be.... Good Heavens! if +any harm should have befallen the poor beast!” + +“What on earth can happen?” Antek growled, in a surly mood. He had come +to his Reverence to complain and get counsel; and he had been, not only +reprimanded, but asked to seek the lost mare besides! No doubt the mare, +so old and blind, deserved pity; but ought not a fellow-man to come +first? + +“As to you, you are to master yourself; do you hear? And curse him not! +he is your father!” + +“Oh, that,” said Antek very bitterly, “that I know well.” + +“It were a grievous sin and offence against God. And no blessing will +there be for him that in anger raises his hand against his father, to +break the commandment!” + +“I want justice: no more.” + +“No, ’tis revenge you seek.... Am I wrong?” + +Antek was at a loss for an answer. + +“Now I will tell you one thing more: ‘A docile calf, beyond all doubt, +thrives, sucks much milk, and waxes stout.’” + +“‘Docile!’ The word sticks in my throat, I have so much of it. Shall I +allow a man to do me every wrong in the world, simply because he is my +father? Are children forbidden to seek justice for the wrong done?—Good +God! if that’s the order of things, I had as lief bid it farewell, and +go anywhere to get away from it.” + +“Go, then; what is it prevents you?” cried the priest, taking fire on a +sudden. + +“Well may I go: what—what is there left to me here now?” he muttered, +almost in tears. + +“You are simply talking nonsense. Others have not one bit of land: yet +they stay on, and work, and thank God that they have work to do. You had +far better settle down to do something, and not complain like a woman. +You are strong and able, and have something to lay your hands to +besides....” + +“Yes, indeed; three whole acres!” was the ironical reply. + +“And a wife and child, who belong to you too: do not forget it.” + +They were now in front of the tavern; the windows were all aglow, and +from the road where they stood they could hear voices inside. + +“What! another drunken bout?” + +“’Tis the recruits who were chosen during the summer, drinking to keep +their spirits up. Next Sunday the Russians will take them away to +somewhere at the back of the world: so they are seeking comfort.” + +The priest had taken his stand near the poplars, from where he could +look through the window, and see how thronged the place was. “Why, the +tavern is well-nigh full!” he exclaimed. + +“They were to have a meeting and advise together to-day, about the +forest clearing which the Squire has sold to the Jews.” + +“But he has sold only the half.” + +“Till we have agreed to the sale, not one bush shall be sold!” + +“What do you say?” the priest inquired, in a tone of anxiety. + +“We don’t give leave: that’s flat. Father would go to law; but Klemba +and the others with him won’t have it. They forbid a single tree to be +cut down; and if the whole village has to rise, rise they will—aye, and +ax in hand, too. What is theirs, they never will give up.” + +“Merciful heavens! Pray God there may be no violence!” + +“No, no! only a few of the manor-folks’ heads split in two: that will be +but justice!” + +“Antek! has anger made you mad? My good fellow, this is senseless talk!” + +He would not listen, but turned on his heels and vanished in the +gathering dusk; while the priest, who heard the rumble of wheels and a +mare’s whinny, hastened back to his dwelling. + +Antek passed by the mill on the other side, wanting to avoid going near +Yagna’s hut. + +She was fast in his bosom: a festering wound of which he could not rid +himself. + +Afar, the light shone bright from within her cabin. In there it was +joyful. He stopped to look once more, were it but to curse her in his +rage. And suddenly something fell on him like a hurricane, and tore him +away. + +“She is my father’s now!—My father’s!” + +He went round to his brother-in-law, the smith, though expecting no +advice from the man, and only wanting to remain a short time away from +his father’s dwelling, and in somebody’s company.—Ah! the priest would +preach work to him, would he? Preaching to others was an easy thing for +those who have nothing to trouble them!—“Remember your wife and +child!”—Was he likely to forget them? Her! ... whom he loathed so, with +her wailing and her meekness and wistfully glancing eyes! Were it not +for her ... were he but single!—O Lord! He groaned deeply; a wild fit of +anger swept over him, and he would have liked to take someone by the +throat—strangle him—tear him to pieces!... + +But whom? He knew not. His fury passed away as suddenly as it had come. +He looked blankly out into the night and hearkened to the whistling +blasts. Then he walked on, trudging heavily, scarce able to drag +himself; for now he felt weighed down by a mountain of sorrow, +lassitude, and such a sense of prostration that he no longer knew +whither he was going, nor for what purpose. + +“Yagna is my father’s—my father’s!” he repeated again and again, each +time in a lower key. + +In the smith’s shop, a boy was working the bellows with might and main, +and the draught that poured on to the flaring roaring embers made them +burst into blood-red flames. The smith stood at the anvil, grimy-faced, +girt with a leather apron, his arms bare, his cap on the back of his +head, beating a red-hot iron bar till the anvil resounded, while showers +of sparks flew from beneath the hammer, and fell hissing into the moist +ground of the forge. + +“Well?” he asked, after waiting a moment. + +“Well, what?” Antek mumbled, leaning against a basket-wagon frame, +several of which were standing by to have their iron-work repaired; and +he gazed into the fire. + +The smith went on, working hard at the incandescent iron, and beat away, +keeping time as he smote upon the anvil with his hammer; or, when a yet +more powerful blast was needed, helping the boy to blow; but ever and +anon stealing a glance at Antek, while a malicious smile peeped from +under his red moustache. + +“Well, so you have been to his Reverence again: and what has come of +it?” + +“And what should come? Nothing. I might have heard just the same in +church.” + +“What else did you think to get?” + +“Why, he knows a great deal,” Antek replied in self-defence. + +“As to taking, yes; as to giving, no.” + +Antek was in no mood to contradict him. + +“I am going to your cabin,” he said after a pause. + +“Go; I shall join you at once, for the Voyt is to be here. You will find +tobacco on the top of the press: help yourself.” + +Antek had not so much as heard him, as he made straight for the house +which stood opposite. + +His sister was kindling the fire, and her eldest boy, at the table, +learning out of a spelling-book. + +“Is he studying?” he asked; for the boy spelt aloud, pointing to each +letter with a sharp stick. + +“Yes. He began at potato-digging-time. The young lady from the mill is +teaching him, for my husband is too busy.” + +“Roch, too, began teaching on Father’s side of our cabin yesterday.” + +“I wanted to send our Johnny to him, too: but Michael will not have it. +He says she knows more, because she has been at school in Warsaw.” + +“Oh, yes. Yes,” he answered, in order to say something. + +“Johnny gets on so fast with his primer that the young lady is +astonished.” + +“Oh, of course. It’s the smith’s blood, you see—being the son of so +clever a man....” + +“You are jeering. And yet was he not right to tell you that Father can, +so long as he lives, withdraw any settlement made?” + +“Aye, try to snatch its prey from out of the wolf’s mouth!... Six acres +of land! My wife and I are both as good as his farm-servants; and see, +he settles the land on the first strange woman he comes across!” + +“You will wrangle, and fall foul of him, and ask for advice against him; +and the end will be that he will drive you from his house into the +bargain!” She spoke thus, looking timorously towards the door. + +“Who told you that?” + +“Hush, hush! That’s what people are saying.” + +“He shall not! Let him get me out by force, if he can! I’ll go to law. +But as to giving way, never, never!” + +“Yes, you’ll butt your head against a stone wall, like a ram, but never +get it smashed, eh?” the smith said, coming in. + +“Then what’s to be done? You give clever advice to everybody; advise +me.” + +“It will never do to run counter to the old man’s will.” He lit a pipe, +and set about explaining matters, excusing Boryna, and smoothing things +over, till all at once Antek saw his drift, and cried out: + +“You—you are on his side!” + +“I want to be fair.” + +“You have been well paid for this.” + +“Not out of your pocket, at all events.” + +“My property is not yours to give up in my place. You no doubt have had +a good instalment already, and are in no hurry to get more.” + +“I have had no more than you.” + +“Oh, no more? And what about your share of the cow? And all the pieces +of linen, and odds and ends you have sneaked out of Father? Have I +forgotten the geese, and the young pigs ... and ... and ... there’s no +end of them! Ah, and the calf he gave you the other day? Is that +nothing?” + +“You might have got it just as well as I.” + +“I am not a gipsy, nor a thief!” + +“A thief! Do you call me that?” + +They both rushed forward, ready to spring at each other. But they +stopped, for Antek went on more calmly: + +“I was not speaking of you. But never will I abandon my rights, even to +be saved from utter ruin.” + +The smith interposed, with a jeer: “It is not the land, I fancy, for +which you would go to such lengths.” + +“For what then?” + +“It is Yagna you want, and rage to lose her now!” + +“Did you ever see...?” he cried; the shot had hit the mark. + +“There be those who have seen ... and not once only.” + +“May their eyes drop out of the sockets!” But he said this curse very +low; for just then the Voyt entered the room. Probably he too was aware +of the reason why they quarrelled, for he at once set to justifying and +defending the old man’s behaviour. + +“That you stand up for him is no wonder: he has given you drink and +sausages in plenty!” + +“No careless talk, pray; I, the Voyt, am speaking to you.” + +“For your Voytship I care as I care for this broken stick!” + +“What!—what has the man said?” + +“You have heard; and if not, you shall hear other things which will go +yet farther.” + +“Say them, then, if you dare!” + +“I will.—Behold, you are a drunkard, a Judas, a dissembler; one that +squanders in revels the money the village has entrusted to him, and +takes abundant pay from the manor, to let the Squire sell our forest +land.... Will ye I say more?” he added furiously, snatching at a stick. +“So I will, but with this cudgel, not with my tongue.” + +“Take care you rue not what you are doing, Antek; I am a man in office!” + +“And do not fly at anyone under my roof! This is no tavern!” the smith +shouted, placing himself in front of the Voyt. But Antek, now wrought up +to exasperation, poured a volley of abuse on them both, slammed the +door, and left them. + +“Now,” he was saying to himself, while breakfasting the next day, “now +they will all be against me!” when, to his stupefaction, he saw the +blacksmith come in. They met on their usual terms. + +When Antek went to the barn afterwards to chop straw, the smith followed +him, and said in confidential tones: + +“I’ll be hanged if I know why we quarrelled ... some silly word dropped, +belike. So I am first to come to you and shake hands.” + +Antek shook hands indeed, but grunted, with a look of mistrust: + +“Yes, some hasty words passed between us; but I felt no grudge against +you. That Voyt made me frantic.... Let him mind his own business, and +keep himself to himself, or....” + +“So I told him, when he wanted to follow you out....” + +“To fight me?—I would have given him such a dressing as I gave his +cousin, who has been smashed up ever since harvest-time!” + +“Of that, too, did I remind him,” the smith observed, with a demure look +and a sly leer. + +“But I will settle with him yet ... with that great man, that Jack in +office! He will remember me!” + +“He is not worth your notice: let him be.—I have had an idea, and have +come now to tell you about it. This is what we have to do.... This +afternoon my wife will come here. You will go with her to old Boryna, +and talk the matter over thoroughly.... Of what use is complaining in +holes and corners? Speak your mind out to him face to face. Perhaps you +will succeed, perhaps not; but at all events we shall have threshed the +matter out.” + +“But what is to be done, now the settlement has been made?” + +“You see, by wrangling we shall get nothing at all. Yes, he has made it. +But, so long as he lives, he has the power to revoke it. Do you +understand? That is the reason why we must not irritate him. He wants to +marry: well, let him. And to enjoy himself: why not?” + +At the mention of marriage, Antek turned white, and shook so that he +paused in his work. + +“Do not oppose him openly. Approve him. Say he was right to make the +settlement, since he chose to do so: only ask him to promise us the +rest—that is, to you and me, and in presence of witnesses,” he added, +with a sly after-thought. + +“Yes, but what of Yuzka, what of Gregory?” Antek inquired reluctantly. + +“They shall get money instead. Gregory has been receiving not a little +every month, ever since he has been in the army.—But just listen, and do +as I tell you; you will not regret it. My management of things will make +all the land ours in the end, my life on it.” + +“‘To sew the sheep’s skin do not strive, furrier, while the sheep’s +alive.’” + +“Listen—Let him but make a promise in presence of witnesses: we shall +then have something to lay hold on. We can still fall back on the courts +of justice. And there is another point besides: the land he got as your +mother’s dowry.” + +“A great thing, forsooth: four acres for me and your sister ... four +whole acres!” + +“But these he has not given to either; and for so many years he has sown +therein and garnered therefrom! For these he must pay you well, aye, and +with percentage too!... I tell you once more: oppose the old man in +nothing. Go to the wedding; do not grudge him fair words. We shall +manage him, you will see. And if he is after all unwilling to give the +promise, the law may then come in and force him. You are on very +familiar terms with Yagna, and she may be very useful to you: only speak +of this to her. No one could better succeed in bringing the old man +round.—Well, is it agreed? For I must be stirring.” + +“Agreed!—That you get out quick, or I will smite you in the face and +drive you out of doors!” Antek hissed through his clenched teeth. + +“What ... what has come over you?” the blacksmith stammered, appalled by +the looks of the other, who dropped the straw-cutter and came on, with +eyes terribly gleaming and face as pale as a sheet. + +“Thief! carrion! traitor!” He spat the words out, his mouth was foaming +with hate as he advanced, and the smith fairly ran for it. + +“Has the man lost his wits?” he said, as soon as he was out in the road. +“I was giving him good counsel ... and he—Oh, that’s your game, is it? +You would have struck me, driven me out, because I wanted to share the +land with you, and came to you as to a friend and a brother! Is that +your game ... to have all to yourself? Ha! you will not live to see the +day, my man! Though you wormed my thoughts out of me so cleverly, I will +give you such a shaking, the worst ague will be nothing beside it!” He +grew angrier and still more angry, as he reflected that Antek had taken +him in so, and would inform old Boryna of all this intrigue.—The very +thing he feared most of all! + +“But that must at once be prevented!” He swiftly came to a decision, and +though in bodily fear of Antek, went back to Boryna’s. + +“Is your master at home?” he asked Vitek, who was opposite the house, +throwing pebbles at the geese in the pond to make them land. + +“Over there at the miller’s: gone to invite their people to his +wedding.” + +“I shall go that way: perhaps we may meet,” he thought, and made for the +miller’s; but he went home first, and told his wife to dress her best, +take the children with her, and go round to Antek’s at the first stroke +of the noonday Angelus. + +“He will tell you what to do.... Do nothing by yourself, for you are not +clever; only fall a-crying at the right time, embrace your father’s +knees and beseech him, and all that. But give good heed to what Antek +shall say and your father reply.” And so he went on instructing her for +some time. + +“Now I shall look in at the mill: perhaps our meal is ground.” He was +too uneasy to stay any longer in the house and, going out, walked on +slowly, often halting to consider. + +“The man threatened me; yet he’ll do as I told him, I think. Better my +wife should be there, and not I.—What else can he do but what I +say?—Quarrel—and be expelled!” + +He smiled in triumph, set his cap straight and buttoned up his capote, +for a chill piercing wind came from the pond. + +“There will be frost, surely, or else dirty weather,” he predicted, +standing on the bridge and looking into the sky, where a scud of driven +clouds was passing, not unlike a flock of muddy unwashed sheep. The pond +uttered a low murmur, now and then beating upon its shores, along which, +scattered about amongst blackened drooping alders and weeping willows, +the outlines of women washing linen appeared, traced in red, and the +obstreperous clatter of their bats rose on either bank. The roads were +empty, save for the numerous flocks of geese, soiled with stiffening +mire, that were waddling in and out of the ditches, now filled up with +dead leaves and rubbish. Children outside the houses squealed and +screamed; and the cocks crowed in the hedges—weather-prophets telling of +a change. + +“Better wait for him at the mill!” he growled and walked down the slope. + +Antek, when the smith left him, had set to chopping straw so frantically +that he forgot everything but his work; and Kuba, returning from the +wood, cried out aloud: + +“Mercy! there will be enough of it for a week’s fodder!” And then Antek +woke up from his musings, threw the straw-cutter aside, stretched +himself, and went into the hut. + +“What must be will be,” he reflected, “and I must speak to my father +this day.—That blacksmith fellow is a lying traitor; his advice may be +good, for all that. Nay, there must be something in it.” He peeped in at +his father’s door, and at once drew back; a score of urchins were +sitting there. Roch was teaching them, and paying great heed to their +behaviour; going round with beads in hand, hearing their lessons, +correcting them at times; at others pulling one boy’s ear or patting +another’s head, but for the most part sitting patiently and explaining +the printed matter, or putting questions, which the children hastened to +answer in chorus as fast as they could, gobbling like a troop of little +turkeys when excited. + +Hanka was getting dinner ready, and having a talk with her father, old +Bylitsa, who seldom came, because he was always ailing and could hardly +move about. + +He sat close to the window, his chin and hands on his staff; +hoary-headed, with a twitch of the lips and a treble voice like a +bird’s, accompanied by thin wheezing sounds in the windpipe. + +“Have you breakfasted?” she inquired. + +“To say true, Veronka forgot me.” + +“Oh, she even starves her dogs! they often come to me for food,” she +cried. Her elder sister and she had been on bad terms ever since last +winter, when their mother had died, and Veronka seized on all she had +left, refusing to give anything up; which had estranged them. + +He took her part in a feeble voice. “They have not too much for +themselves. Staho threshes at the organist’s, where he gets food and a +score of kopeks daily besides. And there are many mouths to feed in the +cabin: the potato-patch cannot suffice for all. True, they have a couple +of milch-cows and take butter and cheese to town, and get a few coppers; +but she often forgets to give me my meals. Yet I do not want much ... +only a little every day, and at the right hour....” + +“Then come to us in spring, since you are so ill off with that jade!” + +“But I make no complaint, no fuss; only....” His voice died into +silence. + +“With us, you could tend the geese, and see to the children.” + +“Hanka,” he said under his breath, “there is nothing that I would not +do.” + +“There is room for you here; I should put up a bed for you and make you +cosy.” + +“Oh, if I could but be with you, Hanka, and never go back to them, I +would sleep in the cow-house or the stable,” he answered in a husky +beseeching voice. “They took my feather-bed from me; she says the +children have nothing to sleep on. It is true that they were cold, so I +had them with me. But my sheepskin is all torn, and does not keep me +warm at all; and where I sleep there is no fire, and she will not let me +have any wood, and counts every spoonful that I eat, and sends me out +a-begging, and I am so weak I can scarcely crawl to your house.” + +“Good God! and you never told me this was so!—Why?” + +“How could I? she is my daughter!—And he is a good-hearted man, but very +little in the house.—How could I?” + +“She is a hag! She took half the land and half the cabin, and the other +things.... So that’s the board and lodgings she promised to give you! We +must go to law: they were bound to let you have food and firing, and +clothing too.—And we were to give twelve roubles a year: have we not +kept our promise, say?” + +“Surely! For you are upright folk.—But those few _zloty_ that I have +saved for my burial—I had to give them up too, I could not help it.” He +said no more but sat crouching in his place, more like a heap of rags +than a human being. + +After dinner, when the smith’s wife came with her children and greeted +Hanka, the old man took up a bundle prepared for him by his daughter, +and vanished unnoticed. + +Boryna had not come home to dine. + +The smith’s wife was determined to see him, nevertheless, though she +should have to wait till nightfall. Hanka had set up a loom near the +window, where she set to work, drawing the woof of hempen thread across +the warp assiduously, and but seldom and timidly taking part in the talk +between Antek and his sister. His conversation with her about their +grievances did not last long, however; for Yagustynka dropped in, saying +in a casual tone: + +“I have just come here from the organist’s, where they need me for the +washing. Matthias was there only just now, together with Yagna, to +invite them to the wedding. They are coming. Yes, everyone to his +people: the rich to the rich. They have asked the priest also.” + +“What! have they dared His Reverence!” Hanka exclaimed. + +“Is he, then, so sacred a being? They asked him, and he said he might +possibly come. Why not? Is the girl ill-looking? will the food be bad? +and will there be little to drink? The miller and wife and daughter have +promised. Ho, ho! There will not have been such a wedding since Lipka +was Lipka!—I know, for I shall be cooking with Eva—her from the +miller’s. Ambrose has killed a pig for them, and sausages are making +now...” She broke off abruptly, noticing that no one asked any +questions, or spoke at all. She looked round at them as they sat +gloomily there, and, eyeing them attentively, cried out: + +“I say! there is a storm brewing here!” + +“Storm or no storm, what is that to you?” the smith’s wife answered, so +tartly that Yagustynka was offended, rose, and went over to Yuzka in the +other lodgings, who (the children having just departed) was setting +chairs and benches in order. + +“Father is not likely to grudge himself anything,” the smith’s wife +remarked, in an aggrieved tone. + +“Oh, he can well afford it!” Hanka rejoined, and broke off abruptly, +seeing Antek look fiercely at her.—They sat waiting in almost complete +silence. From time to time a word was said; then that dull, crushing, +ominous speechlessness came over them once more. + +“He must have cash enough: he is always selling things, and never +spending.” + +Antek’s only rejoinder to his sister’s words was a wave of the hand; and +he went out of the room to get some fresh air. He was feeling ever more +and more uneasy; nor could he tell why. He now expected his father, and +felt impatient at the delay, yet glad in his heart not to have met with +him yet.—“It is not the land you are angry about, it is Yagna!”—Those +words, uttered by the smith the day before, now suddenly came back to +him.—“He is a lying dog!” was the cry of rage which burst from his lips. +And he set to work at the outer wall which was to protect the hut from +the side of the court-yard. Vitek brought him litter from the heap; +Antek drove in the laths to form the wall, and rammed the litter down +inside it; but his hands were trembling, he had to stop working more +than once, and lean against the cabin walls, and look out through the +bare leafless trees over the pond to Yagna’s hut.—No, it was not love +that was now growing within him, but anger and hatred in numberless +billows! She, the jade—she, the hateful one!—They had thrown her a bone, +and off she went after it! + +Such were his thoughts. But then there swept over him remembrances +coming up—whence, he knew not—laying siege to his heart, clinging to his +mind, even visible to his senses ... and the sweat bedewed his brow, his +eyes flashed, a thrill ran through him.—Ah, there in the orchard! Ah, +then in the forest! And again, when they once were coming from town +together! + +All at once he reeled; he again saw that burning face, those deep-blue +eyes, those wondrous full red lips; and he heard her quick-drawn breaths +of passion, and her voice, low and husky with love and rapture, calling +to him: “Antek! Antek!” And she was again bending towards him, very +close—he felt her touch him with all her throbbing self!... But he +rubbed his eyes to drive away that too sweet phantom, and his implacable +resentment again oozed icily from his heart, as the drops fall from the +icicles under the eaves, when the spring sun shines upon them, and love +awakens once more; within his soul, agonized yearning lifted her +thorn-crowned head once more—a yearning so bitter that he would fain +have eased it by clutching at any pain whatsoever, or by shrieking to +rouse the dead! + +“May a brimstone thunderbolt strike her!” he cried out; but, suddenly +recollecting himself, he cast a sharp glance round, fearing lest Vitek +should have understood whom he meant. + +He had spent those three last weeks in a fever of expectancy, awaiting +the happening of some miracle. As for him, he could do nothing, prevent +nothing! + +And of late, insane thoughts had often surged up in his mind, insane +resolves. Often had he gone out to meet her, and many a night had he +watched outside her cabin, in the rain and the cold. But she had not +come out.—She shunned him! + +No, no, no! Every instant he grew more angry against her, against the +whole framework of things. She was his father’s!—A strange woman, an +adventuress, a thief who had robbed him of his land, the most precious +of all possessions! Smite her he would—aye, beat the life out of her! + +More than once he had determined to confront his father, and tell him to +his face: “You cannot have Yagna; she is mine!” But the very thought +made his hair stand on end.—What would his father, what would all the +village say? + +So now she, that same Yagna, was to be his stepmother—his mother ... of +a sort! How could that be? Was it not a sin, a most grievous one? He was +afraid to think of it: the thought of some awful judgment of God at hand +made his heart die within him.... And yet, to say nothing—to bear all +this within himself, as one bearing in his bosom coals of fire that +burned to the bone—that was beyond the endurance of man! + +And the wedding was but a week away! + +“Master is coming,” Vitek cried; and Antek felt he was shaking with +dismay. + +It was getting dark. + +It was getting cold, too; the ground was freezing, the air eager and +nipping, but clear as usual when a frost is setting in, and wafting +sound so well that the bellowing and trampling of the cattle driven to +water, the creaking of the gates and bucket-dippers, the noises of the +children and the dogs, were all heard distinctly across the pond. From +some windows, there gleamed lights already, throwing athwart the waters +their long, broken, quivering reflections; while, from behind the woods, +the huge red full moon was slowly ascending. + +Boryna, attentive to farm matters, came into the yard, and rated Kuba +and Vitek soundly for having let the calves stray from their stalls and +wander to the cows’ mangers; so, when he entered the house, his visitors +were awaiting him. They said nothing, but just gave one glance, and +looked down, as he stopped short in the middle of the room, eyed them, +and asked scornfully: + +“All here? What, come to sit in judgment, hey?” + +“No, indeed,” the smith’s wife returned, timorously; “we only come to +you with a petition.” + +“But why is your goodman not here?” + +“He was very busy, and could not come.” + +“Aha! Busy ... yes.” He smiled knowingly, threw his capote aside, and +pulled off his boots. All remained tongue-tied the while, uncertain how +to begin. The smith’s wife cleared her throat and drew her children +closer; Hanka, on the threshold, was suckling her little boy, and +casting uneasy looks at Antek, who sat by the window thinking what he +should say, and shaking all over with emotion. Yuzka alone was calm, +peeling potatoes by the fire-place. + +“Now, then, say what you have to say,” the old man cried sharply, +irritated by the silence. + +“Better you, Antek, should speak first—about that settlement: we shall +follow,” the smith’s wife stammered. + +“The settlement? It is made, and the wedding is to be on Sunday: that I +can tell you.” + +“We know, but we came for another reason.” + +“What is it?” + +“You have settled six whole acres!” + +“I chose to: if I choose, I can settle everything on her, and this +instant!” + +“You may, if all belongs to you,” Antek retorted. + +“And whose else is it—whose?” + +“Your children’s. Ours.” + +“That’s nonsense. Mine the land is, and I can do with it as I please.” + +“Or not yours, and not to do as you please.” + +“Will you prevent me—you?” + +“I shall ... we all shall; and if not, we have the law to protect us.” +He could no longer control himself, and was raging. + +“Ah! you do threaten me with the law, forsooth?—Hold your peace ere I am +angered, or you’ll rue it.” + +“Wrong us ye shall not!” cried Hanka in a loud voice, rising to her +feet. + +“And what is’t she wants—she?—She brought us three acres of sand, and +one piece of canvas cloth: and she dares wag her tongue here!” + +“You have given Antek still less: not even the land, his mother’s dowry; +we are as your farm-labourers!” + +“But in return for your work you get all that three of my acres yield.” + +“For work that is worth the yield of more than twenty.” + +“If unfairly treated, go elsewhere and fare better.” + +Here Antek shouted: “We will not! The land is ours, come down from our +grandsires and forefathers.” + +Old Boryna glared at him, but answered nothing. He seated himself by the +fire and, taking up a poker, used it on the brands till the sparks flew +on every side. He was flushed with passion; his hair again and again +came tumbling into his eyes, phosphorescent like a wildcat’s; but he had +some self-control still left. + +A long pause ensued, and the stillness of the room was broken only by +the hurried breaths drawn there. + +“We have naught against your marrying; marry, if you like.” + +“And if you have aught, much difference will it make to me!” + +“Only revoke that settlement!” added Hanka, in tears. + +“Oh, that peevish mother of dogs! Always chattering like a fool!” And he +poked the fire so furiously that the sparks flew all about the room. + +“Take heed! She is no wench of yours, that you should speak such words +to her!” + +“Why should she prate, then?” + +“She has a right to speak!” Antek shouted; “she stands up for what is +our due.” + +“If you will,” the smith’s wife murmured, “let the settlement stand, but +settle the rest of your property on us.” + +“Look at that simpleton! Going to divide my land, eh? No, I’ll never +take board and lodgings from you.—I have spoken.” + +“We will not give in! We will have justice!” + +“If I but take my stick to you, I’ll give you justice!” + +“Try but to touch us!—You’d not live till the wedding!” + +And now the squabble began in earnest; they rushed forwards, +threatening; they beat the table with their fists, they shouted aloud +all their grievances, all their injuries. Antek, in his anger, forgot +himself so far as again and again to clutch his father by the shoulder, +even by the throat, so furious was he; but the old man was yet master of +himself. He wished to have no fight, and merely pushed him aside, seldom +replying to insults, and unwilling to have the whole village taking part +in his affairs. But the noise and confusion in the room waxed louder and +louder; for both the women were weeping and pouring forth invectives +alternately, while the children screamed so that both Kuba and Vitek +came round from the farm-yard and peeped in at the window. + +Hanka, leaning against the chimney penthouse, here burst into a torrent +of tears and words: + +“Yes, we shall have to go out into the world and beg our bread! O Lord, +good Lord!... we that have toiled like oxen!... What have we now of our +labour?... Ah, God will avenge this wrong of ours!... His judgment will +be upon you!... Six whole acres settled—and mother’s clothing and beads +given away ... everything! And to whom, great God?... To that swine!... +Oh! wanton and harlot as you are! For the wrong you are doing us, may +you end in a ditch some day!” + +“What do you say?” the old man shrieked, darting furiously towards her. + +“That she is a harlot and a wanton—as all the village and all the world +knows!” + +“Woe betide you! I’ll beat your foul mouth to pulp!” He seized and shook +her; but Antek leaped forwards to protect her, and shouted in his turn: + +“And I say it too: she is a wanton, a harlot, and anyone may know her +that cares!”—But he said no more. Boryna, in a paroxysm of rage, struck +him such a blow in the face that he fell with his head breaking the pane +of a glazed press, which he brought to the floor with him. Springing up +instantly, streaming with blood, he charged his father. + +They both rushed at each other like mad dogs, with a mutual clutch, +driving and being driven backward and forward about the room, pushing +and hurling one another against the bed, the great trunk, the walls, +till their heads rang again. A horrible outcry arose: the womenfolk +tried to separate them, but they rolled down upon the floor, so closely +gripped in hatred that they turned over and over, each strangling each, +each crushing the other, as best he could. + +By great good fortune, the neighbours ran in while it was time, and +separated them. + +Antek was hustled away to the other lodgings, and water dashed over him; +he was faint with exhaustion caused by loss of blood, for the glass had +gashed him very deep. + +The old man had no hurt at all; only a slight tear in the short jacket +he wore, and a few scratches on his face, that was livid with rage.... +He swore at the folk who had come, shut the front door on them, and sat +down by the fire. + +But nothing could avail to calm him. + +He could not put out of his memory the words uttered about Yagna: they +stabbed him like a knife. + +“That hound! I will never forgive him, never!” was the oath he then +swore to himself. “My Yagna! how could he?”—But then he recalled what he +had heard said of her in former times and disregarded. He turned hot, he +felt as if he were choking, and a wretched sense of dejection came over +him. How, if his own son said such things, were people’s mouths to be +stopped? Oh, that villain! The very recollection of those words burned +him like fire. + +After Yuzka had cleaned away all the traces of the struggle, and given +him his supper, though late, he attempted to eat, but could not, and +laid his spoon down. “Have you given the horses their provender?” he +inquired of Kuba. + +“Of course.” + +“Vitek—where is he?” + +“Gone for Ambrose, to see to Antek’s head. His face is swollen like a +pipkin,” he added, hurrying out; for he had chosen this moonlight night +to go out shooting. + +“‘When dogs have too much bread, each flies at t’other’s head,’” he +grunted. + +The old man stumped down into the village, but refrained from visiting +Yagna, though the light was gleaming bright from her window. He turned +away just outside her door, and went round to the mill. It was a chilly +star-besprinkled night, and so clear that the whole mill-pond shone like +glittering quicksilver. Over the deserted roads the trees cast long +swaying shadows. It was late; they were putting the lights out in the +houses, whose whitewashed walls now stood out more distinctly among the +skeleton orchard trees. Silence and darkness had swallowed up all the +hamlet: only the mill-wheel and the water clattered and babbled +monotonously. Matthias walked on, crossing to the other side. As he +went, his anger grew stronger, together with his hatred. When he got to +the tavern, he sent for the Voyt, and they both drank till midnight. He +could not, however, drown the gnawing pain within him. Only he then +registered a resolve. + +No sooner had he risen the next morning than he went round to the other +lodgings. Antek was in bed, his face bandaged with a bloodstained rag. + +“Get out of my home this instant!” he said, “and let no trace of you +remain! If you want war, if you will go to law, then do so; bring an +action, and get back your property! What you have sown of your own +grain, you may reap, when summer comes. And now, away with you! Let me +set eyes on you no more! Do you hear?” he roared. Antek set about +dressing slowly. + +“By noon, you will have to be off!” he added, calling out to them from +the passage. + +Antek remained as dumb as though he had not heard. + +“Yuzka, call Kuba: let him put the mare to the cart, and take them +whither they want to go!” + +“But there is something the matter with Kuba. He lies groaning on his +pallet, and says he cannot rise at all, his lame leg hurts him so.” + +“A sluggard, who only wants to lie abed!” And Boryna saw to the +farm-duties by himself. + +Kuba nevertheless was seriously ill, but would not say what the matter +was with him, though pressed by his master. As he lay, he uttered such +groans that the horses came up to him, sniffed at his face and licked +it, while Vitek brought him water in a pail, and secretly washed certain +blood-smirched rags in the river. + +Boryna, intent as he was on the departure of Antek and his family, +noticed nothing of all this. + +They departed. + +Without clamour or disturbance, they packed everything, carried their +belongings out, and made up their bundles; Hanka well-nigh swooning with +distress; Antek refreshing her with drinks of water and hurrying her on, +that they might be away—out of that father’s house—as quickly as ever +they could. + +He would take no horse from his father, but borrowed one from Klemba, +and took everything over to Hanka’s parent, at the very end of the +village and beyond the tavern. + +Several peasants had come in from the hamlet, along with Roch as their +leader, desirous of reconciling them; but to this neither father nor son +would agree. + +“No,” said the old man; “let him try how he will enjoy his freedom, and +bread of his own!” + +Antek answered no word to their solicitations; but, lifting his fist, he +uttered such horrible maledictions that Roch turned pale and withdrew +amongst the women, who were in numbers about the premises; partly to +assist Hanka, but for the most part to air grievances aloud, and babble, +and give advice. + +When Yuzka, all in tears, gave dinner to her father and Roch, her +brother and his family were off the place, together with all they had. +Antek never even looked back at his hut; he only crossed himself, +heaving a deep sigh; and whipping up the horse, put his shoulder to the +cart, it being very heavily laden. He went plodding along, his face +white, his eyes blazing with stubborn resolve, his teeth chattering as +one in an ague: but never said one word. Hanka walked languidly after +the cart, her elder son holding to her skirt and roaring, her younger +one clasped to her bosom. Before them she drove a cow, a flock of geese, +and two lean swine: and her voice was so loud in imprecations and +mourning that folk came out of their houses, and followed her as in +procession. + +At Boryna’s, the meal was eaten in sombre silence. + +The old dog Lapa barked in the porch, ran after the cart, returned and +howled. Vitek called it; but it paid no heed. It smelt the farm-yard, +entered Antek’s empty rooms, ran round them one or twice, rushed into +the passage, barked again, whined, fawned on Yuzka, and again tore about +as though distracted: then it sat down on its hind quarters with a +strange air of imbecility—and finally made off, with its tail between +its legs, on Antek’s trail. + +“Even Lapa has gone after them!” + +“Do not fear, Yuzka,” her father answered tenderly; “Lapa is coming back +soon. They will have no food for him. Come, no silly puling, but prepare +the other rooms: Roch is to live in them. Call Yagustynka to help +you.... You must take household matters in hand now; being housekeeper, +you’ll have many a care on your head.... No, no! no whimpering, dear!” +He took her head in both his hands, and stroked it, and drew her +caressingly to his heart. + +“When I go to town, I’ll buy you a pair of shoes.” + +“Oh, will you, will you, Father?” + +“Yes, I will indeed, and many another thing besides. Only be a good +girl, and take care of the place.” + +“And will you buy me a caftan like Nastusia’s?” + +“Certainly, dear, I’ll buy you one.” + +“And ribbons too?—But long ones ... such as I shall want for your +wedding-day.” + +“Say but what you need, little one, and you shall have it ... all you +want!” + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + +“Are you sleeping, Yagna?” + +“How can I sleep? I woke at dawn ... with the thought that I am to be +married to-day.” + +“You are sorry, darling, are you?” she whispered; there was in her heart +a mingling of hope and fear. + +“Wherefore? Shall I be sorry that I must leave your home, and go to my +own?” + +Dominikova, crushing down the pang which suddenly seized her at the +words, did not reply at once. She rose from her bed, dressed herself +carelessly, and went out to wake up the lads in the stable. These had +overslept themselves somewhat, the “Unbinding of Hair”[20] having taken +place in the cabin the evening before. It was broad daylight, and the +morning, clad in hoarfrost, flooded the world with silvery splendour. + +----- + +Footnote 20: + + As Polish peasant-girls’ tresses are cut after the wedding, they have + a little domestic party the evening before, to which only girls are + invited, and the tresses are then unbound, ready to be + shorn.—_Translator’s Note._ + +Dominikova washed her face in the passage, and went quietly about the +house, ever and anon peeping at Yagna, whose face was scarcely +discernible in the shades of the bedroom, dark as yet. + +“Lie there, darling! lie there still! Lie for the last time in thy +mother’s home,” she murmured, love and sorrowing pain contending within +her many a time. What she had coveted so ardently, she had now: yet she +felt such anguish that she could not but wince at the smart of it, and +sat down upon the bed.—Boryna ... a kind man, who would treat her +daughter with due respect.... And Yagna could do whatever she liked with +this man, who saw nothing in the whole world but her! + +No. It was not he that she dreaded, but the stepchildren.—Ah, why had he +driven the Anteks from his home? Now, if ever, would they brew mischief +and seek revenge. But yet, if he had not done so?... Antek at Yagna’s +side!—A sin against God might have ensued.—Well, there was no help for +it now. The banns were published, the guests invited; the pig was +killed, the settlement safely stowed away.... No, no, no! What would +come of it had to come; and while Dominikova lived, she would suffer no +wrong to be done to her daughter.—Having come to this final decision, +she went out to rate the lads for their sloth. + +When she returned, she thought to rouse her daughter too; but Yagna had +fallen asleep again, and the quiet regular breathing of slumber was +heard from her bed. Once more did the mother feel anxieties and +uncertainties swoop down upon her, like hawks with talons tearing at her +heart, screaming distrust, and predicting some vaguely awful impending +doom. But she dropped on her knees by the window and, with red bleared +eyes fixed upon the flushed dawn, prayed very hard for a long time. And +she rose, full of strength to meet any fate that might come, no matter +what! + +“Now, Yagna dear, get up; it is high time. Eva is coming at once to +cook, and we have so much to do still!” + +“Is the weather fine?” the girl inquired, raising her heavy head. + +“So fine that all the country round is glistening over with hoarfrost. +The sun will rise presently.” + +Yagna, aided by her mother, was soon dressed. Then the latter, after due +consideration, spoke thus: + +“What I have told you before, I will repeat again. Boryna is a good, +kind man; but you must take great care ... not to make friends with any +chance acquaintance, or let tongues ever again wag against you. People +are curs: they love to bite.—You hear me, dear?” + +“I hear, yes; but you speak as though I had not any judgment at all.” + +“No one is the worse for good advice.—See well to this: Boryna must +never be set at naught, but always treated with tender respect. An old +man cares much more for that sort of thing than a young one does.... And +who knows whether he may not settle all his land on you? or perhaps give +you a big sum—from hand to hand?” + +“For that I care nothing,” she interrupted impatiently. + +“Because you are young and inexperienced. Look round you: what is it men +quarrel for, work for, and make every attempt to get? Why, what but +property, property alone!—The Lord never, never made you for toil and +suffering.—Whom have I laboured for all my life, if not for my +Yagna?—And now I shall be alone—quite alone!” + +“But the lads will not quit your side; they will always be with you.” + +“Of them I have as much joy as of the day that is no more!” She wept, +and added, wiping her eyes: “You must also live in harmony with your +husband’s children.” + +“Yuzka is a kindly girl. Gregory will not be back from the army for some +time yet. And—and....” + +“Beware of the smith!” + +“Why, he is on the best of terms with Matthias.” + +“If so, it is for some reason of his own: be sure of that.—The Anteks +are worst of all; they will not be reconciled.... His Reverence wanted +to make peace yesterday, but they would none of it.” + +“Oh, but Matthias is a wicked old man to drive them from his house!” +Yagna burst out passionately. + +“What’s that—what do you say, Yagna? Do you know that Antek would have +taken back the land from us—that he cursed you, and said of you things +unfit to repeat?” + +“Antek against me? Antek? They lie who told you so.... May their foul +tongues drop out of their heads!” + +“Oh! And what is it sets you so strongly on his side? Say!” she asked +with a threatening look. + +“Their being all against him! I am not a begging dog that fawns on all +who toss him bread. He is ill-used, and I know it!” + +“You would like to return the deed of settlement to him, would you not?” + +Yagna could speak no further; a stream of tears fell from her eyes; she +rushed into the inner room, bolted the door, and cried there for a long +while. + +Dominikova did not try to interfere. The scene had awakened new feelings +of anxiety in her mind, but she had no time to brood over them. Eva +came; the lads slouched into the passage; the last preparations and +arrangements were now to be made. + +The sun was up, and the morning-tide rolling on. + +The frost of the previous night had been hard enough for the roadside +pools and the borders of the pond to be coated with ice, and the +quagmires to bear the weight of the lesser flocks. + +Now it was growing warmer, though in the shadow and under the hedges the +frost still reigned. The thatches dripped with crystal drops, and +wreaths of smoke-like vapour were curling up from the marshes. + +Not the least little cloud floated in the dark azure of the sky. + +Nevertheless, crows hovering about the cabins, and cocks frequently +crowing, foretold bad weather to come. + +It was Sunday; and though the bells had not yet begun to ring, the whole +village was like a hive of swarming bees. Half the inhabitants were +smartening themselves up for the wedding of Boryna with Yagna. + +In every cabin, turmoil and racket prevailed; everyone was getting +ready, trying things on, and dressing carefully; and out of many an open +window and door came the sounds of merry voices. + +On Dominikova’s premises, of course, everything was in seething tumult, +as usual on such a day. + +The cottage, freshly whitewashed, was noticeable from afar, having been +decorated with green boughs in Whitsuntide fashion. Already the day +before, the boys had come to fix pine-branches on the thatched roof and +where possible along every chink in the wall. From the fence to the +porch, fir-tree boughs had been likewise set up, so that the fragrance +was like that of the woods in the springtime. + +Within, the arrangements made were very fine indeed. + +On the farther side of the house, generally used as a store-room, a +great fire had been made, and Eva from the miller’s was cooking there +with some neighbours and Yagustynka to help her. + +All the furniture had been removed from the other side, the room +whitewashed afresh within, the chimney-piece veiled with a great piece +of blue drapery. Nothing remained but the holy images on the walls; but +the lads had carried in stout benches and long tables, which they set up +along the sides. The ceiling, with its age-darkened rafters, had been +adorned with paper figures that Yagna had herself cut out. Matthias had +fetched her coloured paper from town, out of which she had snipped many +a fringed and variously coloured circle, and imitating flowers, and +curiosities of different descriptions—as, for instance, a dog running +after sheep, its master following it, staff in hand; or a church +procession, with priest, banners flying, and images borne aloft—and so +many other marvels of the same kind, it was impossible to remember them +all! And all were well-shaped and artistic in appearance, and had been +greatly admired the evening before, when they were unplaiting Yagna’s +tresses. She knew how to make many another thing besides—anything that +caught her eye or fancy; and in all Lipka there was not a cabin without +some cutting made by her hands. + +Having partly dressed herself in the other room, she came out to paste +the rest of her cuttings upon the walls beneath the holy images, there +being no room anywhere else. + +“Yagna! will you have done with those fancy things of yours? The people +are assembling, the band is marching through the village: and that girl +is amusing herself with drolleries!” + +“Plenty of time, plenty of time,” she returned briefly; but she now +stuck no more cuttings, and busied herself strewing the floor with +pine-needles, laying the tables with fine linen cloth, exchanging a few +words with her brothers, or strolling about the place and looking out at +the scenery. But she felt no pleasure in all this: not the least. She +was going to dance and hear the band play, and was fond both of music +and of dancing: that was all. Her soul, like the present day of autumn +serenity, was cloudless and radiant, but lifeless. Were it not that all +things reminded her it was her wedding-day, she might even have +forgotten that. At the “Unplaiting,” the day before, Boryna had put in +her hands eight strings of coral beads—all that his wives had left at +their death. And now they lay at the bottom of her trunk: she had not +even put them on. To-day she felt no interest in anything. Willingly +would she have flown away somewhere—but where, she knew not! Everything +teased her; and what her mother had told her about Antek recurred +persistently to her mind. What! _he_ speak evil of her? She could not, +would not believe it: the very thought made tears start.—Yet, it might +be!... Yesterday, she was washing linen; he had passed by, and never +looked her way! In the morning, she was going with Boryna to confession. +Antek, coming in their direction, had turned back as from a savage +dog.... Well, then, let him snarl at her if he would; let him snarl! + +She began to feel herself in indignant revolt against him. But a sudden +flash of memory brought that evening back to her, when they had returned +together from plucking cabbages at his father’s. The recollection went +to her head, her mind was wrapped and plunged in flames all over; it +revived so intensely that it was not to be borne. Thereupon, to make a +diversion, she cried point-blank to her mother: + +“I’ll have you know I won’t let my hair be cut off after the wedding!” + +“Here’s a clever one for you! Who ever heard of a girl whose hair was +not shorn after the wedding?” + +“At manors, and in towns.” + +“Certainly. Yes, they—_they_ have to keep their hair, to cheat the folk, +and pass for what they are not.—Why would you bring in a new order of +things, you? Let the manor girls make laughing-stocks of themselves by +all means; let them go about, hairy as Jewesses. They are fools, and +they may. But you—no town rubbish, a daughter of the soil from grandsire +and greatgrandsire—you have to do as has ever been done amongst our +peasantry!—Ah, I know them, those town conceits and fancies!” + +Yagna, however, stuck to her point. Eva, an experienced woman, who knew +many a village, and year after year went on foot to Chenstohova with the +pilgrim companies, tried her best to persuade the girl; so did +Yagustynka, though according to her way seasoning her advice with jests +and bitter railleries. At last she said: + +“Keep your tresses, do; they will serve Boryna, when he beats you. He’ll +twist them round his hand, and so use his stick better upon you. And +then you will cut them off by yourself.... I knew a woman....” But here +she broke off. Vitek had come to call her. She was staying with Boryna +since Antek’s expulsion, Yuzka proving too young for a housekeeper. Now +helping Eva in the cooking, she would once in a while run round to the +house to see to things there, as the old man’s brain was topsyturvy that +day. Ever since morning, Yuzka had been at the blacksmith’s, smartening +herself; and Kuba lay continually ill in bed. + +The lad had come in a hurry. “Kuba wants you sorely: pray come this +instant.” + +“Off at once!—Good friends, I shall just see what it is, and be back +here directly.” + +“Hurry, Yagna; we are expecting the bridesmaids,” said Dominikova +warningly. + +But she made no haste at all, seemingly in a drowsy fit.... Her work +fell from her fingers, and she would stand sometimes gazing vacantly out +of window. Her soul was as though turned to water within her—water that +flowed hither and thither, and now and again splashed and broke on some +rock of memory. + +In the cottage, the hubbub was ever increasing, with the constant +arrival of many a dame—now a kinswoman, now a housewife: these, +according to ancient custom, bringing Dominikova fowls, or a loaf of +wheaten bread, cake, salt, flour, pieces of bacon, or a silver rouble +wrapped up in paper—all these things as thank-offerings for the +invitation, and to make up for the heavy expenses incurred. + +Each of them drank a little nip of sweetened vodka, chatted a few +minutes with the old dame, admired everything, and hurried away. + +Dominikova herself superintended the cooking, cleared things away, and +saw that everything was duly done; not omitting to scold her sons for +laziness; and, indeed, they dawdled much, and each of them slipped out +whenever he could into the village to the Voyt’s, where the musicians +and the bridesmen had gathered already. + +Few people attended High Mass, and this vexed his Reverence, because +folk had forgotten the Divine Service on account of a mere wedding. +Which was very true; but people also said to themselves that such a +wedding was not to be witnessed every Sunday. + +All those invited came driving in at once after the noonday meal from +the neighbouring villages. + +The sun, shedding a dim hazy splendour over the autumn fields, had begun +to roll westward; the ground seemed shiny and glistening as if with dew, +the pond shimmered tremulously, the roadside ditches had a glassy gleam; +the whole landscape was soaked in the dying light and the cooling heat +of the last autumn days. + +Burning down like a candle, the day was slowly approaching extinction. + +The village of Lipka, however, was inspired with all the animation of a +fair. + +No sooner had the Vesper bells rung for the first time than all the +musicians at the Voyt’s sallied forth into the road. + +First came the fiddlers, each marching abreast with a flutist; then the +bass-viol-players, and the drummers, to whose instruments there were +little bells attached: all adorned with flying ribbons, and advancing +with elastic steps. + +After the musicians walked a troop of eight: the two “proposers,” who +had arranged the match, and the six bridesmen. These were all handsome +young fellows, slender as pine-trees, slim-waisted, broad-shouldered, +enthusiastic dancers, audacious of speech, fond of a fray, and great +sticklers for their rights: such were they all six, and all of good +families, pure farmer’s blood. + +Together they marched, shoulder to shoulder, down the middle of the +road, the ground echoing under the tramping of their boots: with such +merry daredevil looks, and so gayly adorned, that they killed the whole +scene—a vision of striped trousers glancing in the sun, of scarlet +jackets, hats decked with bunches of floating ribbons, and white +capotes, open and flapping in the breeze like wings. + +Uttering shrill cries, and humming joyful tunes, on they dashed, +tramping noisily in measure—a young pine-grove in motion and rushing +with the blast! + +The musicians played polonaises, going from hut to hut to call the +wedding guests; here vodka was offered them, there they were asked in; +elsewhere a song would answer to their tunes; while on all sides the +folk came out, dressed in their best raiment, and went swelling the main +body. And under the windows of the bridesmaids all sang in unison the +following verse: + + Lasses, lightly treading, + Come ye to the wedding— + Hear our gleeful tune! + Hear our voices’ chorus + Join with flute sonorous— + Hautboy and bassoon! + Let the tankard clink now: + Who is loth to drink now— + He’s a scurvy loon! + Oy ta dana dana, + Oy ta dana dana, + Oy ta dana da! + +And then they shouted so loud that they could be heard throughout the +whole village, and beyond in the fields and the forests. + +The folk had come out in front of their houses, into the orchards. Many +who had not been invited joined the party, merely to look on and listen; +so, before it had reached its destination, pretty nearly the whole +village was round them, pressing and surging on every side, while the +children ran on in front: a dense crowd, a swift and a noisy one. + +Having brought the guests to the bridal cottage, playing them in with a +joyful strain, they returned to fetch the bridegroom. + +Vitek, who, brave in his short jacket adorned with ribbons, had +accompanied the bridesmen, now ran fast before them. + +“Master!” he cried through the window. “They are coming!” And off he ran +to where Kuba lay. + +They played a good while there before the porch. Boryna came out +directly, threw the door wide open, and would have had them all in; but +the Voyt and the Soltys took him by each arm and led him straight away +to Yagna; for it was high time to go to church. + +His gait was full of mettle, and he looked surprisingly young. +Clean-shaven, with hair newly cut, and his wedding-suit on, he made a +rarely handsome figure; besides which, portly and broad-shouldered as he +was, the dignified expression both of his features and his whole outer +man made him conspicuous from afar. He smiled and talked pleasantly with +the young men who had come; especially with the smith, who managed to be +always close to him. + +They brought him in ceremony to Dominikova’s, where the crowd made place +for him; and, with tumultuous cries, and sounds of many instruments and +songs, he entered the cabin. + +Yagna was as yet invisible: the women were arraying her in the inner +room, carefully watched and strongly bolted. For the young fellows +knocked and battered at the door; they cut narrow slits in the +partitions, and made careless jests with the bridesmaids: whereupon rose +great screaming, much laughter, and of old women’s scolding not less. + +The old dame, with her sons, received the guests, offered vodka, +conducted the elders to the places reserved for them, and in short had +an eye to everything. + +All the guests were of high condition: no common men, but only men of +property and of good family; and of these only the wealthiest. All were +connected with the Borynas and the Paches by ties of family and +friendship, or were at least acquaintances who had driven over from +distant villages. + +None of your Klembas, or your Vincioreks, none of your one-acre +starvelings were there: nor any of the small fry that eked out their +existence by working for others, and were the closest adherents of old +Klemba! + +“No dainties for dogs, and no honey for hogs,” says the adage! + +Presently the door opened; and the organist’s wife and the miller’s +ushered Yagna into the big room. The bridesmaids formed a circle round +her—a wreath of human flowers they were, all so beautifully dressed and +so fair to see. And she—she stood in their midst, like a rose, the most +fearless of them all; with head-dress of plumes and ribbons and silver +and gold lace, she was like one of those images they carry in church +processions; and they all stood mute before her. + +Ah! since the Mazur was first danced, no one was ever more splendid! + +Then did the bridesmen lift up their voices, growling from the depths of +their throats: + + Resound, O violin, resound! + (Yagna, now ask pardon of your mother!) + Resound, O flageolet, resound! + (Yagna, now ask pardon of each brother!) + +Boryna came forward and took her hand. They both knelt, and Dominikova +made the sign of the cross over them with an image, and then sprinkled +them both with holy water. Yagna, bursting into tears, fell at her +mother’s knees, embracing them, and the other women’s too, as she begged +pardon and took leave of them all. The women gathered her into their +arms, passing her from one to another, and all wept much: Yuzka the +most, thinking of her dead mother. + +They all formed up before the house and marched off on foot, for the +church was but one field away. + +Then the bridesmen took possession of Yagna. She walked on with delight, +smiling through the tears which still trembled in her lashes. She now +was gay to see as a spring-blossoming bush, and riveted every eye. Her +hair, braided over her forehead, bore above it a rich pile of gold +spangles, and peacock’s eyes, and sprigs of rosemary. Therefrom, down to +her nape and shoulders, fell long ribbons of every hue; her white skirt +was gathered at the waist in abundant folds; her corsage, of sky-blue +velvet, was laced with silver; she wore great puffed sleeves to her +chemise. Round her throat there was an abundant frill, embroidered with +designs in dark-blue thread, and necklaces of coral and amber, row upon +row, hung covering half her bosom. + +Matthias was being led by the bridesmaids. + +As the stalwart oak may be seen rising behind the graceful pine in the +woods, so did he appear after Yagna’s figure. There was in his gait a +certain jaunty swing, and he shot glances on either side of the road: he +fancied he had beheld Antek in the ruck. + +Following him came Dominikova, with the “proposers,” the smith and his +family, Yuzka, the miller’s and the organist’s people, and all the +persons of any note. + +And following these came the whole village. + +The sun was now hanging above the woods, red, enormous, flooding all the +road, and the pond, and the huts, with its blood-red glow. + +In the midst of this crimson conflagration they walked on slowly. It +made the eyes blink to see them as they went—with ribbons and peacock +plumes and flowers; gay in red trousers, petticoats of orange tints, +rainbow kerchiefs, snowy capotes: just as if a whole field full of +flowers in bloom had arisen and moved forward, swaying in the wind! + +Aye, and singing too! For again and again the high treble of the +bridesmaids’ voices would strike up the ditty: + + On the clattering wagons go, + And my heart is full of woe, + Alas! + Round you while our songs rise glad, + You, O Yagna, you are sad, + Alas! + +All the way, Dominikova was in tears, her eyes fixed upon Yagna alone. + +Ambrose was already lighting the tapers in church when they came. + +They formed in ranks—two and two—and proceeded toward the high altar, +just as the priest was coming out of the sacristy. + +The wedding was soon over: his Reverence had to visit a sick man in +haste. When they left the church, the organist played them out with +Mazurs, Obertases, and Kuyavy dances, till their feet beat time of +themselves; and more than one was on the point of singing aloud, but +luckily remembered where he was. + +They returned pell-mell, and very noisily, for bridesmen and bridesmaids +were singing together. + +Dominikova got to her home first and, when the company arrived, was +there to welcome the newly married couple on her threshold, and offer +them the hallowed bread and salt; then she had to receive the whole +company a second time, embrace them all, and ask them in once more! + +In the passage, the music was striking up. So, on passing the threshold, +everyone made a partner of the first woman he met, to perform the +stately polonaise that was being played. At once, like a many-coloured +serpent, a chain of couples, following each other about the room, waved +and twined, twisted and turned back decorously, struck the floor with +dignity, swayed to and fro in graceful undulation, placed, swam, wheeled +about, one after another in serried ranks, Boryna with Yagna leading +off! + +The lights placed on the chimney penthouse flickered, and the very walls +seemed like to fall asunder with the forceful gravity of this solemn +dance, performed with such dignified grace. + +This was the introduction, and lasted but some minutes. Then began the +first dance, in honour of the bride, and according to the usages and +customs of old days. All present squeezed themselves into corners, or +huddled against the walls; and the young men made a wide circle, within +which she danced. As she stepped out, she felt the blood tingling in her +veins; her dark-blue eyes shone; her white teeth gleamed; her face was +flushed; she danced persistently, and for a long time, for she was +obliged to give each partner at least one turn round the room, and dance +with all. + +The musicians worked hard—worked till they felt worn out: but Yagna +seemed to have but just begun. The flush on her face deepened, she +turned and whirled more impetuously than ever; her ribbons fluttered and +rustled as she went by, lashing those near her on the cheek; and her +skirt, expanding to the streaming air, spread out and bellied wide +around her. + +The young men, delighted, beat time on the tables, and shouted in eager +excitement. + +It was only after all the others that she chose her bridegroom. Boryna, +who had been waiting so long, now leaped forward, pouncing on her like a +forest lynx, seized her waist, whirled her round like a hurricane, and +cried to the players: + +“Now, boys, the Mazur—and with a will!” + +All the instruments sounded with might and main; the whole room was in a +fever. + +Holding Yagna in a strong grip, Boryna lifted the skirts of his capote +over each arm, settled his hat upon his head, clicked his heels +together, and set off, swift as the wind! + +Ah! but how he danced! Now turning round and round, now with a backward +step, now bringing his foot down as if he would stamp the floor to +shivers—then sidling with Yagna, and sweeping her on, and whisking her +hither and thither, and whirling her so that they twain formed but one +indistinct mass, looking for all the world like a spindle full of yarn, +spinning about a room; and from each of them there came forth a full +blast of power and force. + +Furiously, unceasingly, the players went on playing the Mazur dance! + +The crowds in the corners and at the door looked on in silent wonder: +Boryna was so indefatigably active, and ever at higher and higher +pressure, that he instilled not a few with riotous boisterousness, even +to beating the measure with their feet; and some of the hottest heads, +no longer restrained by decorum, seized a girl and danced about with +her. + +Yagna, though brawny and well-knit, soon had to give in; he felt her +weakening in his arms, and immediately ceased from dancing, and led her +to the inner room. + +“What a splendid fellow you are!” the miller cried out. “Henceforth you +are my brother!—Ask me to be godfather at the first christening, I pray +you!” And he put his arm round Boryna’s neck. Soon they were on very +familiar terms, for the music had stopped and refreshments were handed +round. + +Dominikova and her sons, with the smith and Yagustynka, now glided +swiftly about, bearing bottles and clusters of glasses, and drank with +each one. Yuzka and the friends of the old dame carried pieces of bread +and cake about in sieves to the guests. + +And the tumult grew and increased. + +On a bench near the window sat the miller, with Boryna, the Voyt, the +organist—all the notables in the place besides; and there a bottle of +rum—not of the worst—was circulating among them. + +Many were also standing about the room in groups, talking loudly to +anyone they met, as they felt inclined; and the vodka glasses were in +requisition. + +The inner room was lit by the organist’s great lamp, lent for the +occasion. The housewives, with the organist’s wife and the miller’s at +their head, had gathered there, and sat on chests and benches strewn +with pieces of woven wool. They held their heads up with great dignity, +sipped their mead by tiny droplets, crumbled the sweet cake with dainty +fingers, and very rarely threw in a word or two, but listened +attentively while the miller’s wife told them all about her children. + +The very passages were quite full. Some tried to invade the other side; +but Eva drove them out. They proved too greedy for the dishes, the +appetizing scent of which had filled the house, and was making many a +mouth water. + +The young people then dispersed all about the premises, in the yard and +the orchard. The night was chilly, but serene and starlit. Here they +strolled, disporting themselves in merry guise; and all the place echoed +with laughter, shouts, and running to and fro, one chasing another among +the trees. So the elders cried a warning to them from the window: + +“Are ye seeking flowers by night, girls?—Beware lest ye lose what is +more than any flower!” + +But who paid heed to them? + +Yagna and Nastusia were now walking about the big room, their arms round +each other’s waists, whispering together, and ever and anon bursting +into laughter. Simon, Dominikova’s eldest son, was watching them, with +eyes glued to Nastusia, and frequently going to her with vodka and +attempting conversation. + +The blacksmith had dressed up most grandly, having on a black capote, +and trousers over which the boots were drawn. He slipped about with +great activity, was everywhere, drank with everybody, walked to and fro +and talked; and his red head and freckled face were never long on the +same spot. + +The young people danced several times, but not long, nor with much +animation. They were looking forward to the supper. + +The old men, on their side, were deep in debate, the Voyt raising his +voice higher and higher, striking the table with his fist, and laying +down the law: + +“I, the Voyt, have said it: you may take it from me. I, a man in office, +have received a paper commanding me to call a meeting, and order half a +kopek per acre to be voted by every landowner for educational purposes.” + +“You, Peter, may vote even five kopeks an acre if you like: we won’t!” + +“No, that we will not!” one of the men roared. + +“But I am making you a statement as an official!” + +“We do not care for such schools as those,” Boryna remarked; and the +others assented in chorus.[21] + +----- + +Footnote 21: + + The reader should bear in mind that this book was published before the + War, when only schools where Russian was taught were permitted by the + government, and Polish was not learned except in secret.—_Translator’s + Note._ + +“In Vola,” said one, “there is a school which my children attended for +three winters running. What is the result? They cannot even read in a +prayer-book.—Devil take such teaching!” + +“Let the mothers teach prayers at home; prayers have naught to do with +studies. I, the Voyt, tell you this!” + +“Then what are schools for?” grumbled the man from Vola, rising. + +“I will tell you, I the Voyt: but listen....” + +Here he was interrupted by Simon, who cried aloud to them all that the +trees of the clearing sold to the Jews had already been branded by them, +and that they would have them cut down as soon as the sledges could run. + +“Brand the trees they may: to fell them will be harder!” Boryna put in. + +“We shall complain to the commissary.” + +“Who is hand in glove with the Squire?—No: let us go in a body and drive +the woodmen off.” + +“They shall not hew down one single sapling!” + +“Matthias, drink to me! Now is no time for holding councils. A tipsy man +will even defy God!” So cried the miller, filling Boryna’s glass. The +talk was as little to his taste as the threats were; for he had an +agreement drawn up with the Jews, and the trees were to go to his +sawmill. + +They drank and left their places; the tables were now to be laid for +supper, and all the needful things were being brought in. + +The farmers, however, still stuck to their forest grievance, which was a +great wrong done to them. They formed a group, and with lowered voices +(so that the miller might not overhear them) determined to thresh the +matter out at Boryna’s. + +At this juncture, Ambrose came in, and went straight to them. He had +come late, having had to go with his Reverence to a sick person three +villages away, in Krosnova. So now he set to drink energetically, to +make up for lost time. Vainly: for at that very moment a chorus of +elderly women struck up the song: + + Bridesmen, about, about! With you it rests + Round the spread tables now to bring the guests! + +To which they replied, having given the signal by striking on the +benches: + + Lo, we have called them: they are ready here + Your spread to taste, if it be but good cheer. + +The guests, now straggling in to table, took their seats on the benches. + +The newly married couple had the first places, and all the others sat +about them in order of precedence, as they were higher in standing, in +possessions, or more advanced in age—from the elders to the girls and +children. Tables had been set up along three of the walls, and yet there +was scarce room for them all. The bridesmen and the musicians remained +standing, the former to serve the guests. + +There was a hush. The organist stood up and said a prayer aloud; after +which, a glass went round, with the sentiment: Health and enjoyment! + +The cooks and bridesmen then bore in a huge and deep dish of smoking +food, singing the while: + + Friends, we bring you dainty food: + Fowls in rice-soup boiled and stewed! + +And, carrying in the second dish: + + Tripe with pepper, spiced and hot: + He’s a fool that likes it not! + +The musicians, stationed near the fire-place, played various tunes very +softly, to give more savour to the food. + +All the company ate with becoming refinement, and deliberation; few +spoke at all, and for some time the room resounded only with the sound +of munching and the clatter of spoons. When they had to some extent +slaked their appetites, the smith set another bottle in circulation; and +now they began conversing (though in low tones) to one another across +the table. + +Yagna ate scarcely anything at all. In vain did Boryna urge and coax +her, entreating her as one entreats a child to eat. She could not even +swallow the meat before her; she was so hot, so tired! + +“Yagna, are you content, sweet? Most beautiful Yagna, you will be as +happy with me as ever you were with your mother.... Yagna, you will be a +lady—a lady! I’ll hire a girl, that you may not be overworked.”—He spoke +in hushed tones, and looking with love into her eyes, caring not for +what folk might say; and they began to make fun of him openly. + +“He looks like a cat after bacon!” + +“How the old fellow flaunts his wantonness! Beside him, a cock is +nothing at all.” + +“Oh, he is enjoying himself, Grandfather Boryna is!” + +“As a dog does out in the frost,” old Simon here muttered spitefully. + +All held their sides with laughter, and the miller laid his face down on +the table and beat it with his fists for sheer joy! + +Once more the cooks entered, proclaiming: + + Here is a dish of Turkish wheat, + Cooked with plenty of lard, for lean folk to eat! + +“Yagna, just bend over to me, I’ll tell you a thing,” the Voyt said, +plucking at her dress behind her bridegroom, whose next neighbour he +was. + +“I would be your child’s godfather,” he cried, laughing, and gloating +over her with greedy eyes. + +At this, she grew very red; and the women, seeing this, fell a-laughing +and jesting yet more facetiously, some setting to explain to her how she +ought to behave to her husband. + +“You’ll have to warm a feather-bed for him every evening before the +fire, or he’ll be cold as ice.” + +“And especially see he has much fat to eat: it will keep him in good +condition.” + +“And pet him well, with your arms round his neck.” + +“And drive him with a gentle hand, that he may not know he is driven at +all!” + +So they babbled on, each sentence freer than the last, as happens when +women have taken too much, and let their tongues run away with them. + +All in the room were shaking with merriment, and things at last went so +far that the miller’s wife set to lecturing them on their duties towards +the girls and little ones present; and the organist pointed out how +grievous a sin it was to cause others to offend by evil example. + +“What? is this bellows-blower forbidding people every pleasure in life?” + +“Being close to the priest, he thinks himself a saint!” + +“Let him stop his ears, an it like him not.” And more unpleasant cries +began to be heard, for he was disliked in the village. + +“We have a wedding to-day, and therefore, my good people, I, your Voyt, +assure you it is no sin to enjoy yourselves, laugh at things laughable, +and make merry.” + +“And our Lord Himself used to go to weddings and drink wine,” Ambrose +added seriously; but no one made out what he said, as he was now tipsy, +and sitting by the door besides. Then all fell to talking, joking, +clinking glasses, and eating more and more slowly, in order to get more +compactly filled up; some even, to make room for the most food possible, +undid their girdles, and sat straight and stiff. + +Again the cooks entered, with the following couplet: + + It grunting, squealing, rooting once about the garden ran: + But now, for all the harm it did, ’twill pay the husbandman! + +“Well, they have done the thing grandly!” the people declared. + +“Truly, this wedding must come at least to a thousand _zloty_!” + +“Oh, she can well afford it: has she not got six acres of land thereby?” + +“Just look at Yagna! Is she not gloomy as night?” + +“As a set-off, Boryna’s eyes are shining like a wildcat’s.” + +“Say, like tinder, my friend—rotten tinder!” + +“Aye, the man will weep over this day yet.” + +“No. He is not of the weeping sort. Of the cudgelling, rather.” + +“Just what I said to the Voyt’s wife, when she told me the marriage had +been settled.” + +“Ah, I wonder why she is not here to-night.” + +“Out of the question. Her child may be due any day.” + +“But I’d lay my head that in no long time—say, before the Carnival +begins—Yagna will be again running after the lads.” + +“Matthew is only waiting for that.” + +“I know. Vavrek’s wife overheard him say so in the tavern.” + +“Because he was not asked to the wedding.” + +“Yes. The old fellow would have had him, but Dominikova was against +it.—All the folk know why, do they not?” + +“Well, all say so; but what has anybody seen?” + +“Bartek Koziol saw them in the wood last spring.” + +“He is a liar and a thief: Dominikova accused him of stealing a pig, and +what he says may be mere spite.” + +“But others too—there be others that have eyes.” + +“All this will end ill ... you will see. ’Tis no affair of mine, but to +my mind, Antek and his family have been unjustly dealt with.” + +“Of Antek, too, people talk—say they have been seen together here and +there.”—The voices dropped lower as the spiteful talk went on, leaving +no shred of reputation on any of the family, and the more unmerciful for +their hostess as they had more pity for her two sons. + +“Is’t not a sin?—Simon, a man wearing mustachios—thirty, if a day—and +she will not let him marry, nor leave the house: and for the slight +fault she raises a tempest!” + +“It is indeed a shame: such strapping lads, and doing all the woman’s +work!” + +“So that Yagna, forsooth, may not soil her hands!” + +“Each of them has five acres of his own, and might marry at his ease!” + +“With so many unmarried girls around them!” + +“Yes, yes; your own poor Martianna, waiting for ages, and the land quite +close by Paches’!” + +“You let her alone! See rather to your girl Franka, lest she come to +grief with Adam!” + +“Those great oafs!—Afraid to leave their mother’s apron-strings!” + +“They are beginning: Simon has been all the evening staring at Nastka.” + +“Their father was of the like mould: I remember well.—Aye, and the old +woman was in her time no better than Yagna.” + +“As the root is, so the boughs; as the mother, so the daughter.” + +The music ceased, and, supper being over, the musicians went to refresh +themselves in the kitchen. But after a time the noise waxed even louder +than before, and the whole place seethed with uproar: all talking, +ranting, shouting away one to the other across the tables, and no one +able to make out what was said. + +At the close of the meal, the most select guests were offered a drink +compounded of mead and spices, while the others got strong vodka and +beer in abundance. + +By this time, but few were well aware of what they were drinking, being +too far gone and in a blissful state. They made themselves comfortable, +and unbuttoned their capotes to be cooler; beat the tables with their +fists till the dishes jingled, embraced each other, either round the +neck or clutching at the shirt-collar; and they talked freely, +unbosoming themselves and telling all their sorrows as if they had been +brothers. + +“’Tis ill living here on earth! Things are out of gear with mankind, and +we have naught but grief!” + +“Aye, men are like dogs, snapping at one another for a bone.” + +“No consolation, save when neighbour meets neighbour over a glass, and +they take counsel, and make complaint; and if any has wronged or been +wronged, he is forgiven and forgives!” + +“As even now, at this wedding-feast: but, ah! for one day only!” + +“Ah! To-morrow will come, though we call him not! You’ll not shun him, +save in God’s hallowed Acre.... Yea, he will come and seize you, and lay +on you his yoke, and smite you with the whip of poverty; and you, O man! +must pull ... even till the yoke be bloodstained.” + +“What is’t aggravates our misery, setting men one against the other, +like dogs quarrelling for a fleshless bone?” + +“Not poverty alone, but an Evil Power; and they then are blinded by him, +discerning not good from evil.” + +“Truly so; and he bloweth upon our souls as one bloweth on half-quenched +embers; and he causeth greed, malice, and all wickedness to burst out +into flame!” + +“Yes; for he that is deaf to the commandments hath a quick ear for the +music played in hell.” + +“It was otherwise of old days.—Then was there obedience, and respect for +old men, and concord.” + +“And each man had land, as much as he could till; and pastures, and +meadows, and the forest.” + +“Who in those days ever heard of taxes?” + +“Or was there anyone that purchased timber? He had but to drive to the +wood and take all he needed, though it were the best pine or oak. The +property of the Squire was the peasants’ property too.” + +“And now it belongs to neither, but to the Jews, or to men still worse.” + +“The foul carrion! (I have drunk to you: drink you to me!...) They are +now established as on land of their own! (Your health, Brother!) ... To +drink vodka is not a sin, if only at the proper season and with +brothers: this is a wholesome thing, it cleanses the blood and drives +away distempers.” + +“Who drinks at all, should drink one quart complete—likewise, who makes +merry, should do it all Sunday long.—But have you work to do? Man, do it +with all your might, grudge not your force, but put forth all your +strength. And if ill things come to pass—if your wife be taken, if your +cattle die, or your home burn down—why, ’tis the will of God. Do not +rebel: what will it avail you to lament, poor creature as you are? Be +patient, therefore; trust in God’s mercy. Aye, and if the worst should +hap, and should grim Crossbones stare you in the face and clutch your +throat, attempt not to escape, which is more than you can do; all is in +the hand of God!” + +“Verily, who is to know the day when the Lord shall declare: ‘Thus far, +O man, is thine: what is beyond is mine?’” + +“It is so of a truth. As lightning flashes, so are the decrees of God: +and none, be he a priest, be he a sage, can know them till they fall, as +ripe corn falls out of the ear.” + +“Man, you have to know but one thing—to do your duty, live as God +commands you, and not look too far ahead.—Surely our Lord prepares the +wages of His servants, and pays most strictly what is due to each.” + +“By these laws did the Polish people stand of old, and they are for ever +and ever, Amen.” + +“Aye, and by patience shall we prevail against the gates of hell.” + +Thus they discoursed together, with not infrequent libations, everything +pouring out all he felt in his heart, all that had long stuck in his +throat and stifled him. Ambrose talked the most of all and the loudest. + +At the very end, Eva and Yagustynka came in with great ceremony, bearing +in front of them a large ladle, tricked out and beribboned. A musician +who followed accompanied them on his fiddle, while they sang: + + Ere you quit us, here come we; + ’Fore you both your cooks you see: + Pray forget us not, good men: + For each dish give stivers three; + For our seasoning stivers ten! + +The company had eaten plentifully, and drunk yet more; their hearts were +warmed by good cheer, and many a man tossed even silver coins into the +ladle as it passed. + +They then slowly rose from table, and went out, some to breathe the +fresh air, some to resume their conversation in the passages or in the +great room; some gave way to enthusiastic demonstrations of friendship; +and more than one reeled about, running his head against the walls or +some other man, butting like rams. + +Only the Voyt remained at the board with the miller, both quarrelling +with intense fury, and about to fly at each other like two hawks, when +Ambrose came to reconcile them, offering more vodka. + +“Back to your church porch, old beggar,” the Voyt snarled at him, “and +hold yourself aloof from your betters.” + +So Ambrose walked off in dudgeon, hugging the bottle to his breast, +stumping noisily and seeking someone to drink and talk with as a friend. + +The young people had dispersed about the orchard, or were walking +arm-in-arm along the road, with much horse-play, and chasing of one +another, and shouting. The night was serene; the moon hung over the +pond, which glittered so bright that the feeblest circles tremulous on +its surface were distinctly visible, moving like snake-coils in silence, +responsive (as it seemed) to the light that struck on them from above. +The frost was pretty hard, the road-ruts were crisp underfoot, the roofs +rime-crusted and hoary. It was in the small hours, for the first +cock-crow had already been heard. + +Meanwhile they set the great room in order for dancing again. + +Rested and refreshed, the players now again, in subdued strains, called +the guests together. + +Yagna had been taken to the private room by the matrons, Boryna sat with +Dominikova close to the door, the elders took seats on benches and in +corners, where they discussed various matters, and only the girls stood +about the room besides, giggling together: a pastime which soon tired +them, and they decided on starting some games, “to stir the boys up a +little.” + +First there was the game, “Fox goes out to make his round; both his +hands and feet are bound.” + +Yasyek, nicknamed Topsy-turvy, was dressed up as Fox, in his sheepskin +turned inside out. He was a silly fellow, a simpleton, and the +laughing-stock of them all. Though a full-grown man, he played with +children, and was in love with all the girls and foolish beyond measure: +but, being an only child with ten acres of his own, he was invited +everywhere. Yuzka Boryna was his quarry, the Hare. And they laughed; +Lord, how they laughed! + +At every step, Yasyek stumbled and fell down, sprawling, with a thud +like a log. The others, too, put out their feet to make him fall; and +Yuzka got out of his way with perfect ease: she sat up quite as a hare +does, and imitated to perfection the way its lips move. + +Then came “Quails.” + +Nastka was leader, and so nimble that no one could catch her till she +let them (in order to dance a measure with someone). + +Finally, Tomek Vahnik was made up for a Stork, having a sheet over his +head and a long stick which he held under it for beak; and he +clack-clack-clacked like a real stork, so well that Yuzka, Vitek, and +all the youngsters ran after him, calling (as they do to the live bird): + + Klek, Klek, Klell! + Thy mother’s in hell! + What does she there? + Cook children’s fare! + What was her sin? + That her little ones’ bellies had nothing in! + +And the hullabaloo was great; for he ran after them, and pecked with his +beak, and flapped his wings violently. + +These games lasted but an hour, when they had to make way for other +observances. + +Now the married women brought Yagna out of the private room, covered all +over in a white wrapper, and seated her in the centre, on a +kneading-trough on which a feather-bed had been put. The bridesmaids +thereupon rushed forward as though to snatch her away, but the men kept +them off: and at last they formed a group opposite, intoning a sad and +plaintive chant: + + Where is your wreath, oh, where + Your bridal wreath so fair? + Henceforth, to man’s will bowed, + A cap, your locks to shroud, + You on your head must bear! + +The matrons then uncovered her. + +She was seen wearing the cap of the married women over the thick plaits +of her tresses; yet in this disguise she appeared still more fascinating +than before. + +To the slow strains of the band, the whole assembly, young and old, +struck up the “Hop-Song” in one grand unison of gladness. This ended, +she was taken over by the matrons alone, to dance with them.... +Yagustynka, by this time much heated, set her arms akimbo, and flung +this impromptu verse at her: + + Oh! had I known this day would see + My Yagna wed a widower, + A wreath I would have woven thee + Of naught but prickly juniper! + +After which came others, yet more biting than the first. + +But little note was taken of them; for the musicians had struck up for +the greatest performance of all; and forward now came the dancers, and +the trampling of many feet was heard. They crowded thickly, couple close +to couple, cheek by jowl, moving ever more swiftly as the dance went on. +Capotes flew open and flapped wide, heels stamped, hats waved—now and +then a snatch of song burst forth—the girls hummed the burden, “da +dana,” and tore on more quickly still, and swayed in measure in the +mighty, swirling, headlong rush! No one could any longer distinguish his +neighbour in the throng; and when the violins burst forth in quick sharp +volleys of clean-cut separate notes, a hundred feet echoed on the floor +at once, a hundred mouths gave tongue, a hundred dancers, seized as by a +cyclone, whirled round and round; and the rustling of capotes, skirts, +kerchiefs waving about the room, was like the flight of a flock of +many-coloured birds. On they went, on continually—dancing without the +slightest pause for breath, the floor clattering like a drum, the walls +vibrating, the room a seething cauldron. And the rapture of the dance +waxed greater, greater yet. + +Then came the moment to perform rites which are always gone through when +the bride puts aside her crown of rosemary. + +First, Yagna had to pay toll, on entering the matrons’ set! + +Immediately afterwards, another ceremony was gone through. The men had a +long rope, woven of the straw of unthreshed wheat, of which they made a +large ring, carefully held and guarded by the bridesmaids, Yagna +standing up in the middle. Whoever wished to dance with her was obliged +to creep under it, tear her away by force, and tread a measure, though +they scourged him all the time with cords, wherever they could. Finally, +the miller’s wife and Vachnikova made a collection, for “The Cap.” The +Voyt came first; he tossed a gold piece into the plate; after that, +silver roubles tinkled like hail; lastly, paper ones, as leaves in +autumn. + +More than three hundred roubles were thus collected! + +Dominikova, quite overcome to see so large a sum offered for Yagna’s +sake, told her sons to bring more vodka, with which she herself pledged +her hosts, kissing her friends and weeping at their great kindness. + +“Drink, my good neighbours, drink, dear friends, beloved brothers of +mine.... I feel spring back in my heart again...! Yagna’s health ... +drink once more ... once more....” And when she gave over, the smith +drank with others, and her sons too, each separately; for the throng was +very thick. Yagna too, thanking them heartily for their kindness, +embraced the knees of the elders present. + +The room was humming, the glasses circulating freely from hand to hand; +everyone exhaled ardour and joy. Faces were crimson, eyes resplendent; +hearts went out to hearts. They stood in knots about the room, drinking +and talking blithely, each saying his say very loud, unheard by any, but +not caring for that!—All felt at one; one joy united and penetrated them +all! “Ye that have troubles, leave them for the morrow; take your fling +to-night: enjoy friendly company, solace your soul! Our hallowed land, +its summer spell of fruit-bearing over, is given rest by the Lord: even +so is it meet that men should rest in autumn, when their field-work is +done. Man, that have your cornstacks piled and your granaries full of +grain worth heaps of precious gold—rest you now from summer labour and +toil gone by!” + +So spake some, while others again revolved in their minds their troubles +and their griefs. + +To neither of these classes did Boryna belong. His eyes saw only Yagna, +his heart swelling and throbbing with the pride of her beauty. Again and +again would he throw _zloty_ to the musicians, that they might not spare +catgut: for the sounds were growing weak, as their zeal was flagging. + +On a sudden, then, they thundered out an Obertas that made one quiver to +the backbone. Boryna leaped to Yagna’s side, caught her in a mighty +grasp, and at once started such a dance as shook the planks beneath +them. He wafted her down the room—back again—clanged on the floor with +his horseshoe heels—knelt suddenly to her, and sprung up again in a +flash—bore her about from wall to wall—roared out a solo which the +instruments took up and accompanied, and still led the dance, while +other couples imitated him, leaping, singing, stamping, and all with +ever-increasing rapidity: as if as many spindles full of particoloured +wools were together on the floor, turning, twisting, twirling, faster +than the eyes could make out their hues; so that no one could discern +lad from lass in the swift rush—only rainbow masses, flying about, +driven as by a goal, with ever-changing tints, turning always with +greater and more impetuous speed! At times the rush of air even blew out +the candles: the music went on in the dark, and the dance as well, lit +by the faint white beams of the moon shining in through the window. +Then, athwart the seething dimness, were seen quick shadows, flying +fast, chasing one another in the mingled darkness and silvery mist; +foaming waves of pale glimmering and melodious din surged up out of the +black night, in dusky harmonies of colour and sound—as in a vision or a +dream—fading back into impenetrable murk, to loom once more distinct +against the pallid wall, from which the glazed images of the saints +reflected the moonbeams with crinkled flickers: and again they plunged +and vanished into the shadows, and only the sounds of heavy breathing, +and quick steps and cries, made their presence vaguely known in the +entangled confusion of the unlit room! + +One dance followed another in rapid succession, and with no interval +between them. As each new dance was struck up, new dancers directly +sprang forward, erect as a forest, swift of advance as a gale of wind; +and loudly the stamping feet thundered afar, and shouts of merriment +echoed through the house, while the onset went on, wild, mad, stormy, +and earnest as a struggle for life and death! + +Ah! how they danced! + +Those Cracoviennes, with their frolicsome hop-skip-and-jump measures, +and the quick lilt of their clean-cut, tinkling, metallic tunes; and the +terse ditties, full of fun and freedom, with which, like the spangled +girdles of the peasantry who made them, they are so brightly +studded—those tunes welling with joyous dashing melody, redolent of the +strong, abounding, audacious savour of youth in sportful pursuit of the +sweet thrilling emotions that tell of the hey-day in the blood! + +And those Mazurs, long-drawn-out as the paths which streak the endless +plains, wind-clamorous and vast as the endless plains they streak: +lowly, yet heaven-kissing; melancholy and bold, magnificent and sombre, +stately and fierce: genial, warlike, full of discordances, like that +peasants’ nature, set in battle array, united as a forest and rushing to +dance with such joyful clamours and wonderful strength as could attack +and overcome ten times their number, nay, conquer, sweep away, trample +down, the whole of a hostile world, nor reck though they themselves be +doomed, and fall, but still carry on the dance after death, still +stamping as in the Mazur—still crying out aloud: “Oy dana dana!” + +And oh, those Obertases!—short of rhythm, vertiginous, wild and frantic, +warlike and amorous, full of excitement mingled with dreamy languor and +notes of sorrow; throbbing with hot blood, brimming over with geniality +and kindliness, in a sudden hailstorm: affectionate voices, dark-blue +glances, springtime breezes, and fragrant wafts from blossoming +orchards, like the song of fields in the young year; making tears and +laughter to burst forth at the same time, and the heart to utter its lay +of joy, and the longing soul to go beyond the vast fields around her, +beyond the far-off forests, and soar dreaming into the world of All +Things, and sing ecstatically the burden, “Oy dana dana!” + +And all these dances, beyond the power of words to describe, thus +followed one after the other, that our peasantry might make merry in +season! + +And thus did they take their pleasures at the wedding of Boryna and +Yagna. + +The hours slipped away in clamour and din and uproar; in noisy +merry-making and dances fast and furious: they did not note that the +dawn was spreading in the East, that the daybreak’s streams were slowly +pouring their pallor into the night’s black gloom. The stars grew wan, +the moon sank; a wind that sprang up beyond the woods passed by, chasing +the dark that waxed thinner and thinner: the gnarled tufted trees looked +in at the windows, bowing yet lower their slumberous frost-crowned +heads, but the folk within were singing and dancing still! + +The doors had been thrown wide open; so had the windows; the house, +brimming and boiling over with lights and tumult, trembled, creaked and +groaned, while the dance went on, now in utterly uncontrollable and +rapturous excitement. It seemed to those within—such was their +state!—that trees and people, earth and stars, and the hedges and the +time-honoured cabin itself, were all wrestling and writhing together, +united in one inextricably whirling cluster, blind, intoxicated, raving, +and in utter oblivion of all; reeling and rolling from room to room, +from wall to wall, from passage to passage, and out into the road and +the enormous world, caught in a round that filled the universe—fading +away in the long unbroken chain of crimson lights now glowing in the +East! + +And the music led them on—the tunes played and the songs. + +How they kept time in their growling, the gruff bass-viols, uttering +their broken humming sounds, like huge humble-bees! And how the flutes +led the band, merrily whistling and twittering, as in mockery of the +drum’s joyful thuds and strokes, swelled by the jingling of its bells +that shook with laughter, and floated lightly like a Jew’s beard in the +wind! And then how the fiddles took the lead and came to the front, like +girls leading the ballet, and sang out loud and shrill at first as +though to try their voices—then played with wide, sorrowful, +heart-rending sweeps of the bow—the lamentations of orphans driven from +their homes—and then again, with an instantaneous change, fell into a +lilting tune—short, trilling, sharp, like the tripping of a hundred +dancers’ heels, at which a hundred full-throated lads shouted themselves +out of breath, and quivered all over, and set once more to turn and sing +and dance mincingly, laughing and rejoicing, heat rising anew to the +head and desire to the heart, lie strong vodka ... when they fell again +into the slow long notes of sorrow and weeping—as dew upon the +plains!—uttering the notes of our own beloved tune, most near to the +heart, instinct with mighty yearning tenderness, and making all dance +deliriously to the strains of our Mazovian air! + + * * * * * + +The candles were growing dim, so near was the day; a dingy ashen +twilight pervaded the room where they danced. But they still took their +enjoyment as heartily as ever. If any found the liquor now flowing too +scantily, he sent to the tavern for more vodka, sought out companions, +and drank with them to his liking. + +Some had withdrawn; some were tired and resting awhile; some, overtaken +by drink, were sleeping off its fumes in the passage or by the door: +others, still more intoxicated, were stretched under the hedges. All the +rest danced on, danced ever. + +At last, some of the more sober made up a group by the porch and, +beating the floor in measure, sang thus: + + O wedding-guests, come home! + Already sings the lark; + The wood is deep and dark, + And ye have far to roam: + Come home! + + O wedding-guests, come home! + There’s danger in delay: + Athwart our weary way + The loud floods roll and foam: + Come home! + +But no one cared to listen to them and their song! + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + +It was grey dawn when Vitek, tired out by the merry-making and driven +home by Yagustynka, hastened to Boryna’s hut. + +A little watch-light was burning there, like a glow-worm. Vitek looked +in at the window, and beheld the old _Dziad_, Roch, sitting at the +table, where he was singing hymns. + +The boy silently glided away to the stable, and was fumbling at the +door-catch, when he jumped back with a cry of astonishment. A dog had +leaped upon him, uttering a whine. + +“What, Lapa, Lapa? ’tis you back again, poor wretch!” he cried, and sat +down on the door-step, overcome with joy.—“Hungry and starving: is it +not so?” + +He had put by a bit of sausage, saved from the feast, which he now took +out of his bosom to offer the dog. But it did not care for food just +then: it barked, laid its head on the lad’s breast, and whined for sheer +delight. + +“Did they starve you, poor thing? did they drive you away?” he +whispered, opening the cow-byre door, and at once throwing himself on +his straw bed. “But now I shall defend and take care of you.” With these +words he nestled deep in the straw; and the dog, lying down beside him, +growled gently and licked his face. + +They were both asleep in an instant. + +From the stable close by, Kuba called to him in a voice weakened by +illness. He called for a long time; but Vitek was sleeping like a +dormouse. + +After a time, however, Lapa recognized his voice, and fell to barking +furiously and pulling the boy’s coat. + +“What’s the matter?” Vitek asked sleepily. + +“Water! The fever is pulling me to pieces.... Water!” + +Vitek, peevish and drowsy though he was, brought him a pailful, and held +it to his lips. + +“I am so ill, I can hardly breathe!... What’s growling round here?” + +“Why, Lapa!” + +“Lapa is it?” Kuba groped to touch the dog’s head in the dark; and Lapa +leaped about, frisked, and tried to get on to the bed. + +“Vitek, give the horses their hay; they have been gnawing the empty +mangers a long time; and I cannot move.... Are they still dancing?” he +asked a little later, when the lad was filling the racks with hay. + +“They are not like to have done till noon; and some are so drunk, they +are lying by the roadside.” + +“Ah, they are enjoying themselves, the masters are!” And he sighed +deeply. + +“Was the miller there?” + +“Aye, but he left rather early.” + +“Many people?” + +“Beyond counting. Why, the cabin was overflowing with them.” + +“Plenty for all?” + +“Like manor guests! They brought them meat in such huge dishes! And +vodka and beer and mead were poured out in floods! Of sausages alone, +there were piles enough to fill three troughs.” + +“When is the bride coming?” + +“This afternoon.” + +“They are rejoicing and feasting still. My God! I thought I’d gnaw a +bone at least, and eat my fill once in my life!... And here I am, lying, +sighing, and hearing about other people’s good cheer!” + +Vitek returned to his bed. + +“If I could but feast my eyes on those good things!” + +He said no more, feeling weary, sad, and tormented by a sort of faint +timid querulousness that gnawed at his heart now. At last, however, he +spoke, patting the dog’s head. + +“Well, well! may they all be the better for it! Let _them_ at least get +some pleasure out of this life!” + +The fever, increasing, began to confuse his thoughts; to drive it away, +he applied himself to prayer, offering himself to the mercy of the Lord +Jesus; but he could not remember what he was saying; he was dazed with +sleep coming over him, and only a string of ejaculations that were +prayers mingled with tears, trickled from his consciousness—the told +beads of a crimson rosary! + +Now and then he roused himself, but only to look around him blankly, +recognizing nothing, and fall back into deathly and corpse-like +unconsciousness. + +Again he woke, now to groan so loud that the horses pulled at their +bonds and snorted to hear him. + +“O God! that I may but hold out till day!” he moaned in terror; and his +eyes wandered through the window, staring out at the world and the +approaching dawn, seeking the sun in that sky yet grey and lifeless and +studded with paling stars. + +But the day was a long distance away still. + +In the stable, plunged in turbid mistiness, the horses’ outlines were +growing dimly visible; and the racks beneath the window slits showed +like ribs in the pale glimmer. + +Fall asleep again he could not: the pains were torturing him anew; they +felt like sharp gnarled sticks thrust into his legs, piercing, boring, +stabbing in and in; and the agony became so unbearable that he started +up, screaming with all his might, till Vitek woke and came round. + +“I am dying!... Oh, how it pains!... How the pain swells! how it crushes +me! Vitek, run for Ambrose.... O Lord!... Or else call Yagustynka.... +Perhaps she can help.... I am not able—my last hour is here....” He +burst out weeping terribly. + +Vitek, all sleepy as he was, ran to the wedding feast. + +The dancing was yet at its height; but Ambrose, being completely tipsy +by now, had taken his station on the road opposite the cabin, where he +kept reeling and singing between the road and the edge of the pond. + +Vitek implored him to come, and tugged him by the sleeve, but to no +purpose; the old man heard nothing, understood nothing around him, +singing the same song over again with obstinate repetition. + +Vitek then applied to Yagustynka, who was not ignorant of healing. But +she was in the private room, sipping _krupnik_,[22] talking and +chattering with her good friends so intently that she would listen to no +one else. And as the boy was importunate, begging her with tears to come +at once, she in the end drove him from the room. So he went back crying +to the stable, having accomplished nothing. + +----- + +Footnote 22: + + _Krupnik_—a drink made of vodka, hot water, honey and + spices.—_Translator’s Note._ + +When he returned, Kuba was asleep again; and he too, burrowing deep in +the straw and covering his head with a clout, went off to sleep. + +It was long after breakfast-time when he was waked by the noise of the +hungry unmilked cows, and by the fierce scoldings of Yagustynka, who, +having overslept herself just like the others, now made up in clamour +against them for what she had neglected herself. + +It was only after she had got the work somewhat in swing that she went +to see Kuba. + +He said in a feeble voice: “Pray help me and do something.” + +“Just you marry a young wench, and you’ll be well in a trice,” she began +cheerily; but, seeing his livid swollen face, grew serious at once. “You +need a priest more than a physician.... What on earth can I do for +you?... So far as I can see, you are sick unto death, aye, even unto +death!” + +“Must I die?” + +“All’s in God’s hand: but you’ll not escape Crossbones’ clutches, I’m +thinking.” + +“I’m to die, say you?” + +“Tell me: shall I send for his Reverence?” + +“For his Reverence?” Kuba cried, in amazement. “His Reverence to come +here—to a stable—to me?” + +“What of that? Think you he’s made of sugar, and would melt if he came +near horse-dung? It’s a priest’s business to go wherever they call him +to a sick man.” + +“O Lord! how could I dare?” + +“You are a silly sheep!” She shrugged her shoulders and left him. + +“The woman knows not what she says,” he muttered, greatly scandalized. + +And now he was quite alone, all the others seeming to have forgotten +him. + +From time to time, Vitek looked in to give the horses provender and +water. He gave him water, too; but presently went back to the wedding. +At Dominikova’s they were preparing to bring the bride home. + +Often Yuzka would rush in noisily, bring him a bit of cake, prattle of +many things, fill the stable with racket, and run out in a hurry. + +Yes, and she had something to run for. Hard by, they were amusing +themselves fairly well: the band, the shouting, the singing were to be +heard through the walls. + +Kuba lay motionless. A strange feeling of desolation had come over him. +He merely listened, and noted how well they enjoyed themselves, and +talked to Lapa, his never absent companion. They two ate Yuzka’s cake +together. Then the sick man called to the horses and talked to them +also. They neighed with pleasure, turning their heads round from their +mangers: the filly even managed to slip her halter and come to his +pallet, where she caressed him, putting her warm moist nose close to his +face. + +“Poor dear, you have lost flesh, you have!” He patted her tenderly, and +kissed her dilated nostrils. “As soon as I am well, you will fill out, +even if I have to give you nothing but oats!” + +Then he lapsed once more into silence, and stared at the blackened knots +in the timber walls, oozing with dark drops of resin—as it were, tears +of congealed blood. + +Dumb, and with feeble sunbeams, the day peeped in through the chinks, +and a flood of shimmering motes appeared at the open doorway. + +Hour after hour dragged by at a snail’s pace, like lame, blind, and dumb +beggars, crawling painfully through toilsome beds of deep sand. + +Only, now and again, a few chirruping sparrows, swooping down on the +stable in a noisy band, would boldly make for the mangers. + +“Ah, the clever little ones!” Kuba said. “And God gives those tiny birds +understanding, to find out where they can get food.—Be still, you, Lapa! +let the poor things feed and keep up their strength: winter will +presently be with them too.” + +The pigs now began to squeal and poke their muddied noses in at the +door. + +“Drive them off, Lapa! The beggars, they never have enough!” + +After these, a lot of fowls came cackling to the threshold, and one +large red cock was so bold as to pass over it to the baskets of +provender. The others followed, but had no time to eat their fill, when +a flock of gaggling geese drew near, hissing on the threshold, flashing +their red bills, stretching and swaying to and fro their straight white +necks. + +“Out with them, Lapa—out with them! All those fowls—as bad as women for +quarrelling!” + +Suddenly there was an uproar—screaming, flapping, feathers flying as out +of a torn bed. Lapa had entered well into the spirit of the chase, and +came back breathless and its tongue lolling out, but uttering cries of +delight. + +“Be quiet now!” + +From the house there came a torrent of angry words, a sound of running, +and the dragging of furniture from one room to another. + +“Ah, they are making ready for the bride’s coming!” + +Someone, though rarely, passed along the road: this time it was a +lumbering creaking cart, and Kuba, listening, tried to guess whose it +was. + +“That’s Klemba’s wagon. One horse—ladder framework; going to the woods +for litter, I dare say. Yes, the axle rubs against the nave, so it +creaks.” + +Along the road there was a continual sound of footsteps, talk, and +noises scarcely to be heard at all; but he caught them, and made them +out on the spot. + +“That’s old Pietras, going to the tavern.—Here comes Valentova, +scolding: someone’s geese have gone on to her field, belike.—Oh, she’s a +vixen, not a woman!... This, I think, is Kozlova, shouting as she +runs—yes, it is!... Here is Peter, son of Raphael ... when he talks, his +mouth always seems full.—This is the priest’s mare, going for water.... +Now she stops ... cart-wheels blocked by stones.—One of these days she +will break a leg.” + +And so he went on, guessing at every sound he heard, going about all the +village with quick thoughts and lively mental vision, and entering so +into the whole life and troubles and worries of the place, he scarce +noted that the day was declining, the wall darker in hue, the doorway +dimmer, and the stable quite obscure. + +Ambrose arrived only when evening had set in. He was as yet only partly +sober; he staggered a little, and spoke so quickly it was hard to follow +him. + +“Hurt your leg, eh?” + +“Look and see what it is.” + +Silently he undid the bloodstained rags; they had dried and stuck so +fast to the leg that Kuba could not help shrieking as he pulled them +off. + +“A girl in childbed would not cry as you do!” Ambrose muttered +scornfully. + +“But it hurts so! How you tear me! O God!” + +And Kuba all but howled. + +“Oho! you have caught it finely! Was it a dog that tore your leg like +that?” Ambrose cried, wondering. The leg was horribly mangled, and +swollen with matter to the size of a water-can. + +“It was—but pray tell no one—the forest-keeper that shot me....” + +“Yes I see.—And hit you from afar, eh? Well, well! your leg will never +again be of any use. I feel the splinters of bone rattling about.... Ah, +why did you not call me in at once?” + +“I feared ... lest they should know I had been after a hare.... But I +was out of the forest, when the keeper shot at me.” + +“Once, in the tavern, he complained; someone was doing mischief, he +said.” + +“The foul carrion! Is a hare, then, the property of anyone?... He laid a +trap for me.... I was in the open field, and he let fly with both +barrels.—Oh, the hell-hound!—But say nothing; they would take me to the +law-court; the gun, too, is not mine, and they would seize it at +once.... I thought it might heal by itself.—Oh, help me! It pains so! it +is tearing me to bits!” + +“Ah, you cunning trickster, you! with your sly games and your forbidden +quests, sharing the forest hares with the Squire!—But, you see, this +partnership will have cost you your leg!” + +He examined it again, and looked sorely distressed. + +“Too late, ever so much too late!” + +Kuba was terrified. “Please do something for me,” he moaned. + +Ambrose, without replying, turned up his sleeves, whipped out a very +keen clasp-knife, grasped the leg firmly, and set about extracting the +shots and expressing the matter. + +Kuba roared like a beast at the slaughter-house, till the other gagged +his mouth with his sheepskin, and then he swooned with the agony of it. +After dressing the wound, and applying some ointment and fresh bandages, +Ambrose brought him to. + +“You will have to go to the hospital,” he said in a low voice. + +Kuba was still dazed. “To the hospital?” he asked, not knowing what was +said. + +“They would cut off your leg, and you might get well.” + +“My leg?” + +“Of course. It is good for nothing: black—decayed—rotten.” + +“Cut it off?” he asked, still unable to understand. + +“Yes. At the knee. Fear nothing: mine was cut off almost at the thigh; +and I am alive yet.” + +“Then I shall get well again, if the wounded limb is cut off?” + +“Even as though one should take out the pain with the hand ... but you +must go to the hospital.” + +“There ... there they cut and carve living men’s bodies!—Cut it off, +you: I’ll pay whatsoever you will, but cut it off!—To the hospital I +will not go: I prefer dying here!” + +“Then here you will die. None but a doctor can cut it off for you. I am +off to the Voyt’s at once; he will send you to town in a cart +to-morrow.” + +“No use: I will not go,” he replied, stubbornly. + +“Fool! do you think they will ask your leave?” + +The old man went out, and Kuba said to himself: “When it is cut off, I +shall be well.” + +After the dressing, his leg had ceased to pain. But it was numb as far +up as the groin, and he felt a tingling all along his side: this he did +not notice, plunged in thought as he was. + +“I should recover.—Yes, I surely should. Ambrose has nothing left him of +his leg: all he walks on is wooden. And he said: ‘As though one should +take the pain out with his hand....’—But then, Boryna would turn me +away.... Aye, a farm-hand with but one leg—such a one cannot plough, nor +do aught else.—what would become of me? I should have to tend cattle ... +or beg my bread! Wander about, or sit at some church-door.—O Lord, +merciful Lord!” And on a sudden his position flashed clearly upon him; +and under the horror that now assailed him, he even sat up. And then he +uttered a deep cry of impotent agony, his mind rolling in an abyss from +which he saw no issue. “O Jesus, Jesus!” he repeated in a fever of +excitement, quaking in every limb. + +Long did he shriek and struggle thus in his anguish; but in the midst of +those tears and that despair, a certain resolve was slowly shaping +itself, and he brooded more and more deeply. Little by little, he grew +calmer, more at peace, thinking so profoundly that he heard nothing +around him, though surrounded by the din of instruments and songs and +clamour; just as if he had been in a deep sleep! + +It was then that the bride and the wedding guests arrived at Boryna’s +house. + +They had led away a goodly cow, and sent Yagna’s box and feather-bed, +and various articles that she had received as wedding presents, before +her in a cart. + +And now, just a little after sundown, the procession left Dominikova’s +cabin, as darkness was falling and the mists rising up. + +Playing lustily, the band marched in front; then Yagna went on, still in +her wedding dress, and conducted by her mother and friends: last of all, +and without any order, came the ruck of guests, each in the place he had +chosen. + +Their way wound along by the pond, now darkened, its gleaming quenched +in the ever-thickening folds of the fog; the silence and obscurity +growing blacker and more dead, the tramping and music sounding muffled +and, as it were, from underneath the water. + +From time to time one of the younger folk broke out into song, or a +matron took up a stave, or one of the peasant lads cried: “Da dana!” but +it was only a short outburst. + +They were as yet in no merry mood, and, besides, they were chilled to +the marrow by the bleak damp air. + +Only when they turned in to Boryna’s enclosure did the bridesmaids lift +their voices in a sad farewell: + + Wending her way to her wedding, + The maiden wept. + Then lit they tapers four, + And played upon the organ.— + Didst fancy, maiden, + That they would play for ever? + —A little yesterday, to-day a little, + And after, thou shalt weep for all thy life! + Da dana!... All thy life! + +Before the threshold, and under the porch, Boryna was waiting along with +Yuzka and the young men. + +Dominikova came forward first of all, carrying in a bundle a piece of +bread, a pinch of salt, a little charcoal, some wax from a Candlemas +taper, and a handful of ears of corn, blessed on Assumption Day. As +Yagna passed the threshold, the matrons cast behind her threads plucked +from cloth seams, and the peels of hempstalks, that the Evil One might +find no entrance, but all things thrive with her! + +They greeted, kissed, and pledged one another in cups of mead, with +wishes of luck, health, and all good gifts and blessings; then they +entered and filled the whole room, every bench and nook and corner. + +The players tuned their instruments, and then strummed softly, so as not +to interfere with the feast that Boryna was now giving. + +He simply went from matron to matron with a full goblet in hand, +offering, pressing them to partake, gathering them in his arms, and +drinking to each of them; the blacksmith took his place with the others. + +Yuzka was bearing on platters pieces of a cake she had baked with curds +and honey on purpose to please her father. + +All the same, the party was dull. True, they emptied their glasses as in +duty bound, nor did they turn away from the sausages. Nay, they even +drank plentifully and with due zest; only there was no mirth amongst +them. + +The women too, who as a class are inclined to diversions and pastimes, +now only sat still on the benches, or here and there in corners, not +even talking much amongst themselves. + +Yagna went into the private room, where she undressed. Returning in her +everyday costume, she would have done the honours of the cabin and +treated her guests herself, but that her mother would not let her touch +anything. + +“Darling, enjoy your wedding-day now! You’ll yet have work enough and +enough toil!” And again and again did she weep over her most tenderly, +and clasp her to her bosom. + +The company found matter for laughter in this maternal sentimentality of +hers: their jeers being all the sharper that now, on Yagna’s arrival as +mistress in her husband’s home, owner of so much land and property of +every sort, her new position was brought home to them. Many a mother, +with yet unmarried daughters, felt very bitter against her; many a girl +was choked with bile at the thought. + +They went over to survey the other apartments, where Antek had formerly +lived with his family. There Eva and Yagustynka had prepared a grand +supper and made a roaring fire. Vitek had hardly been able to bring logs +enough and place them under the enormous pots. + +They examined all the premises besides, and ran their envious eyes over +all that there was to be seen. + +The house itself, to begin with, was the first in the whole village: +large, conspicuous, tall, with rooms (they fancied) as good as those in +a manor-house: whitewashed, and with boarded floors! Then how numerous +the household articles and utensils were! In the big room, too, there +were a score of holy images: and all of them glazed! And then, the byre, +the stable, the granary, the shed! Five cows were kept there, to say +nothing of the bull—no small source of profit. And the horses, and the +geese, and the swine—and, above all, the land! + +Eaten up with envy, they sighed deeply; and one said to another: + +“Lord! and to think that all this goes to one that is undeserving!” + +“Oh! they knew well how to bring their pigs to market!” + +“Yes; he that goes to meet luck always finds it.” + +“Why should your Ulisia have missed this chance?” + +“Because she fears God and leads an honest life.” + +“And all the rest do the same!” + +“Oh, were she other than she is, folk would not stand it of her. Let +them but meet her once at night in company with a lad, and all the world +will know!” + +“What luck this one has!” + +“’Tis the fruit of shamelessness.” + +“Come along!” Andrew called out, interrupting their talk. “The music is +playing, and not one petticoat is in the room—nobody to dance with!” + +“A mind to dance you have, but will your mother let you?” + +“So eager?—Beware and let not your trousers fall, boy: ’twere no fair +sight!” + +“Nor trip the dancers up with your legs!” + +“Pair off with Valentova; you’ll make a fine couple ... of scarecrows!” + +Andrew rapped out an oath, took hold of the first girl he came across, +and led her off, paying no heed to the wasps humming behind him. + +There were but few couples in the room as yet, and these danced but +slowly and (it seemed) with little zeal. Nastka and Simon Paches were +the only exception, and frisked about very willingly. They had arranged +matters beforehand and, with the opening sounds of the music, had joined +in close union, and bounced about in scrupulous fulfilment of their +promise. + +But no sooner had the Voyt come in (he was late, having had to go with +the recruits to the District Barracks) than he began to make things look +more lively; drinking deep, talking with all the farmers present, and +cracking jokes with the newly-wedded couple. + +“Why, your bride is as red as her skirt, and you are as white as a +sheet!” + +“You’ll not say that to-morrow.” + +“Matthias, experienced as you are, you surely have not wasted a day.” + +“Nay, with all eyes upon him? Fie! the man is no gander.” + +“I would not bet half a quart that you say true. You know: throw but a +pebble into the bush: out flies the bird! ’Tis the Voyt tells you so!” + +Yagna made her escape from the room; which occasioned a loud guffaw. + +The women then proceeded to wag their tongues very much at their ease, +careless of what they said. + +The hubbub swelled, and the guests grew more good-humoured in +proportion. Boryna, bottle in hand, went several times the round of the +company; the dancers, now more numerous, frisked with livelier steps, +and began to stamp and sing, and circle about the room in wider rounds. + +Then did Ambrose make his appearance and, sitting down (nearly at the +threshold), follow the bottle with wistful eyes, as it went its way. + +The Voyt cried to him: “You never turn your head, except towards the +clinking of glasses.” + +“Because of that same clinking!” he answered. “And he has merit who +gives to drink to them that thirst.” + +“You leather bottle! here’s water for you!” + +“What’s good for cattle may be bad for man. They say: ‘Water to drink is +now and then not bad, but harm from vodka no one ever had!’” + +“Here’s vodka for you, since you discourse so well.” + +“You first, Voyt!—They say, too: ‘Water for a christening, vodka for a +wedding, and tears for a death!’” + +“Well said: drink another.” + +“I should not even shirk a third. For my first wife I always take one, +but two for my second!” + +“Why so?” + +“Because she died in time for me to seek a third.” + +“What! Still dreaming about women, and his old eyes see no more as soon +as twilight comes!” + +“It is not always necessary to see.” + +At this, they laughed uproariously, and the women cried out: + +“For the love of vodka and of talk, they are both well matched.” + +“There’s a saying: ‘A wife good in talk, and a man strong in deed, have +every chance in the world to succeed.’” + +The Voyt had now sat down by Ambrose, the others crowding round, as many +as could find seats, or, if they could not, standing about with little +heed to the dancers’ convenience. + +And then began such a running fire of witty sayings, jests, comic tales, +and joyous banter, that they all shook with laughter. In this field, +Ambrose was the recognized leader, and chaffed his hearers to their very +faces with so much humour and fun that they were like to split their +sides. Amongst the women, Vachnikova yielded to none for drollery; she +played first fiddle in that respect, with the Voyt for bass-viol, so far +as his official dignity permitted. + +The musicians sawed away as hard as they could, and scraped out the +liveliest tunes they had; and the dancers were shuffling along as fast, +and shouting, and screaming, and tapping with nimble heels. Blithe and +delighted, they had forgotten the rest of the world, when one of them +chanced to notice Yankel standing outside in the passage. At once they +pulled him into the room. The Jew took off his cap, with amicable bows +and salutations to all present, and taking no notice of the nicknames +showered upon him. + +“Yellow one!—Unchristened one!—Son of a mare!” + +“You be quiet there!” cried the Voyt. “Let us treat him! Here, a glass +of the best vodka!” + +“I was passing along the road, and wanted to see how you husbandmen +divert yourselves.—God reward you, Mr. Voyt.—I’ll take a drop of +vodka—why should I not?—to the health of the newly-wedded pair!” + +Boryna raised the bottle and invited Yankel, who, after wiping the glass +with the skirt of his capote, covered his head, and tossed off one +glass, followed by a second. + +“Stay a bit, Yankel: it will not make you unclean,” they cried out in a +merry vein. “Here, musicians, play us the Jewish dance, and Yankel will +caper to it.” + +“Yes, I may dance; why not? ’Tis no sin.” + +But ere the players had understood what was wanted of them, Yankel +slipped quietly into the passage, and vanished in the yard. He had come +to get back his gun. + +They scarce noticed his exit. Ambrose had all the time gone on with his +entertainment, to which Vachnikova contributed a violoncello +accompaniment, so to speak. And he continued until supper-time, when the +music ceased, the tables were pushed forward, and the clatter of dishes +was heard: yet they still listened and he still held forth. + +Boryna invited them to sup, but without effect. Yagna asked them again +and again. The Voyt only got her into the circle, made her sit down by +him, and held her by the hand. + +It was Yasyek (nicknamed Topsy-turvy) who bellowed out: “Come, good +folk, and set to: the dishes are cooling.” + +“Hold your tongue, blockhead, or lick the dishes with it.” + +“Old Ambrose! You are lying like a gipsy, and fancy we don’t know it!” + +“Yasyek, take what folk put into your mouth: you’re good at that. But +leave me alone, you are no match for me!” + +“No match! Just you try, then!” the foolish lad shouted. He thought +Ambrose meant fighting. + +“An ox could do all you can ... or more!” + +“Because you bear his Reverence’s night-vase, Ambrose, you think none +has wit but you.” + +Ambrose was offended, and growled: “Let a calf into church, he’ll come +out just as he was.—Idiot!” + +Yasyek’s mother attempted to stand up for her son. He went off to table +first of all, and soon the others took their places in a hurry; for the +cooks had brought in the smoking dishes, and the odour filled the room. + +They seated themselves in order of precedence, as was fitting for the +bride’s installation ceremony: Dominikova and her sons in the middle, +bridesmen and bridesmaids together; Boryna and Yagna remained standing +to serve the guests, and see that all was done properly. + +A quiet interval succeeded, save that the brats outside made a noise at +the window, fighting with one another, and Lapa barked in great +excitement about the house and passages. The company were quiet and +decorous, while they worked hard to put the eatables away: only their +spoons tinkled about the rims of the dishes, and the glasses jingled +going round. + +Yagna was continually busy, setting some particular dainty before each +guest: here it was meat, there some other very good thing. And she +begged them all so courteously not to stint themselves, and behaved with +such natural grace, conquering all hearts with her beauty and the +pleasant words she said, that many of the men present could not but gaze +on her in adoration, and her mother even laid down her spoon to look and +rejoice in her daughter. + +Boryna, too, noticed this, and when she happened to go to the kitchen, +followed, caught up with her in the passage, gave her a mighty hug, and +kissed her enthusiastically. + +“Dear, what a housewife you make!—Like a manor-house lady—so dignified +and so pleasing in everything!” + +“Am I not, eh?—Now run away to the room: Gulbas and Simon are sitting +apart, grumpy and eating little. Get them to drink with you!” + +He obeyed, and did all she wanted. And Yagna felt now strangely blithe +of heart, and full of affection. She knew herself the mistress of the +house, knew that power had somehow got into her hands: and therewith she +was aware of an accession of authority and serenity and strength. She +walked about the place at ease, eyed all she saw with keen +understanding, and managed things as though she had been married ever so +long. + +“What she is, the old man will find out soon enough, and that’s his +business; but to my mind there are in her the makings of a housewife—and +a fine one, too!” was Eva’s muttered remark to Yagustynka. + +“A fool that’s in favour will always be clever,” the latter returned +bitterly. “Things will go on as they are till she has had too much of +the old man, and begins again running after young fellows.” + +“Aye, Matthew is lying in wait: he has not given her up.” + +“But give her up he will! Somebody else will make him!” + +“Boryna?” + +“Boryna?” She smiled a crafty smile. “No, someone yet mightier. I +mean—no: time will show, and you will see.—Vitek! Drive that dog away: +it barks and barks till my ears are aching. And drive those boys away +too: they will be breaking the panes, or doing some mischief.” + +Vitek rushed out with a stick. The dog barked no more. But there were +cries without, and the noisy footfalls of a crowd of flying urchins. He +drove them into the road, and ran back, bent double to escape a shower +of missiles that assailed him. + +Roch showed himself in the shade at the corner of the yard. “Vitek, wait +a little. Call thou Ambrose; say I want him very urgently indeed, and am +awaiting him in the porch.” + +It was only after some time that Ambrose appeared, and in a detestable +humour. His supper had been interrupted, and at the very best dish of +all—sucking-pig with peas. + +“What? what? Is the church on fire?” + +“Do not raise your voice so. Come to Kuba: I fear he is dying.” + +“Oh, let him die, then, and not prevent folk from eating their supper! I +was with him only this very evening, and told him he would have to go to +the hospital, and get his leg cut off, and he would be well in a trice.” + +“You told him that?—Oh, then I understand.... I—I think he has cut off +his own leg!” + +“Jesu Maria!—His—his own leg?” + +“Come instantly and look. I was going to sleep in the cow-byre, and had +just entered the yard, when Lapa came barking to me, and jumping, and +pulling me by my capote. I could not make out what it wanted; but it ran +forward, sat down on the stable threshold, and howled. Thither I went +and saw Kuba lying in the doorway, half in, half out. I thought at first +he had gone to get some air, and fainted on the way: so I carried him +back to his pallet, and lit the lantern to get him some water; and it +was then I saw he was bloodstained all over—deathly pale, and with blood +pouring from his leg.” + +They went in, and Ambrose did his very best to bring Kuba to; but the +poor fellow was extremely weak. He scarce drew breath, and a rattling +sound came through his teeth, clenched so fast that, to give him a +little water, they had to prize them open with a knife. + +The leg, which had been hewn off at the knee, and still dangled by a +shred of skin, bled profusely. + +A great pool of gore lay on the threshold, close to a bloodstained ax +and the grindstone, usually placed under the eaves, now fallen near the +doorway. + +“Aye, he has cut it off himself. Afraid of the hospital.—A fool to think +it would avail him: but dauntless and resolute all the same.—Good God! +... his own leg! ... it is simply incredible.... And the blood he has +lost!” + +At this juncture, Kuba opened his eyes, and looked round him with +returning consciousness. + +“Is it off?... I struck twice, but swooned——” he said feebly. + +“Any pain?” + +“None at all.... Weak as water ... but not ailing.” + +Ambrose dressed, washed and bound the leg with moist rags, Kuba lay +still meanwhile, uttering not the least sound. + +Roch, on his knees, held the lantern, praying fervently the while; but +the patient smiled—a faint tearful smile, as when an orphan babe, +abandoned afield, knows only that his mother is not there, not that she +has forsaken him, and enjoys the grass waving over his head, and the +sunbeams, and stretches out his hands to the birds that fly past, +conversing with all around him after his fashion: even so did he feel +now. He was at ease, without pain and in comfort; so cheerful that he +thought no whit of his ill, but felt secretly rather proud of himself. +How sharp he had ground the ax! how well he had placed the limb on the +threshold, and—one blow not sufficing—struck a second with all his +might! And now the pain was all gone; so of course he had succeeded.—Oh, +if he were but a trifle stronger, he would not lie rotting on that +pallet any more, but be up, and go to the wedding ... dance even—and eat +a morsel, for he would fain eat! + +“Lie you still, and do not budge. I will tell Yuzka, and you shall have +something to eat presently.” So said Roch, patting his cheeks; and he +went out into the yard with Ambrose. + +“He will drop off ere morning—fall asleep like a little bird: there’s no +more blood in him.” + +“Then, while he is conscious, the priest must be sent for.” + +“His Reverence has gone to spend the evening at the manor-house at +Vola.” + +“I’ll go and tell him: there must be no delay.” + +“Five miles on foot and through the forest! You would never be in +time.—No: the carts of those guests here who leave after supper are +ready; take one and go.” + +They got a cart on to the road, and Roch seated himself. + +“Do not forget Kuba!” he called out as he started: “Have a care of him!” + +“Yes, yes, I shall remember, and not leave him by himself.” + +Nevertheless, he did forget him almost directly. After telling Yuzka +about the eatables, he went back to supper, and applied himself so close +to the bottle that he very soon remembered nothing at all.... + +Yuzka, being a kind-hearted little girl, at once brought him all she +could get, piling it up on a dish, with half a quart of vodka. + +“Here, Kuba, is something for you, that ye may eat and enjoy yourself.” + +“God bless you!—Sausage it is, I fancy;—a delightful smell!” + +“I fried it for you, that you might find it more savoury.” She put the +dish into his hands, for the stable was dark. “But drink of the vodka +first.” + +He drained the glass to the last drop. + +“Will you sit with me a little? I feel lonely here.” + +He broke the food, bit and chewed it—but could swallow nothing. + +“Are they in good spirits over there?” + +“Oh, yes! and so many people! I never saw more company in all my life.” + +“Of course, of course,” he said, proudly; “is it not Boryna’s wedding?” + +“Yes; and Father is so pleased ... and always going after Yagna!” + +“Indeed, for she is so beautiful—as fair to see as a Manor-house lady +any day.” + +“Do you know, Simon, Dominikova’s son, is taken with Nastka!” + +“His mother will forbid him. There are only three acres of land at +Nastka’s, and ten mouths to feed.” + +“That’s why she keeps strict watch and drives them apart when she finds +them together.” + +“Is the Voyt here?” + +“He is.—Talking a great deal, and—together with Ambrose—making the +company laugh.” + +“And why not, being at so great a wedding, and with so great a man?—Do +you know anything of Antek’s doings?” + +“Ah, I ran over to him at dusk, with cake and meat and bread for the +little ones. But he turned me out, and threw the things after me. He is +very resolute; and fierce. Oh, so fierce! And there is wailing and +misery in their hovel. Hanka is always quarrelling with her sister, and +they have well-nigh come to blows.” + +He made no reply, but breathed somewhat harder. + +“Yuzka,” he said after a while, “the mare!—I hear her moaning. Since +evening she has been lying down: she must be near foaling-time, and +ought to be looked after. Prepare a mash for her.—Hark how she moans! +And I cannot help at all, so weak I feel—quite helpless!” + +He was worn out, and said no more for a while, seeming to be asleep. + +Yuzka rose and went out in a hurry. + +“Ces, Ces, Ces!” he called to the mare, as he woke suddenly. + +The mare uttered a low whinny, and tugged at her halter till the chain +clanked again. + +“So then, once in my life at least, I shall eat and be filled! Aye, and +you too, good dog, shall get your share: no need to whine.” + +He attempted once more to swallow some sausage, but quite in vain: it +stuck in his throat. + +“Lord, Lord, such heaps of food ... and I cannot so much as eat one +mouthful!” + +Yes, it was utterly useless: he could not. His hand fell powerless, and, +still grasping the meat, he put it underneath the straw of his bed. + +“So much! Never so much yet! And all for nothing!”—He felt rather sore. + +“But let me rest a little now; and later, when I can eat, the feast +shall begin.” + +He was just as unable afterwards, and slipped off into a coma, still +holding the sausage, and unaware that Lapa was stealthily gnawing at it. + +Suddenly his senses returned.—The supper was over, and such a blast of +music burst on his ears from over the yard, that the stable-walls +vibrated, and the frightened fowls fell a-cackling on their roosts. + +The dance was in full and boisterous swing—and the laughter and the +frolic and the fun. Again and again the trampling of feet resounded, and +the shrill cries of the lasses pierced the night. + +At first, Kuba gave ear; but presently he became oblivious of all +things. A drowsiness seized upon him, and carried him off into, as it +were, a clangorous darkness, as though beneath swift swirling murmurous +waters. But when the dance grew noisier, and the tumult and hubbub of +the stamping heels seemed about to beat all to shivers, he stirred +slightly: his soul peered up out of the dungeon where it lay; roused +from oblivion, coming back from infinite distances, it listened. + +At such times, Kuba would endeavour to eat a little, or whispered low, +but from the heart: + +“Ceska, Ces, Ces!” + +And now at last his soul was slowly withdrawing—winging its way through +the universal frame of things. A new-fledged bird divine, it fluttered +around uncertainly at first, unable to soar, and at times with a revival +of attachment to that sacred earth, its body, where it fain would rest +from the weariness of flight, and craved to soothe the pangs of +bereavement in the haunts of men. Back it went on earth amongst his own, +its loved ones, calling sorrowfully to its brethren, and imploring their +aid: but after a time, strengthened by the Divine power and mercy, it +was enabled to soar on high, even unto those mysterious fields of +endless spring, those infinite unbounded fallows which God has made +beautiful with everlasting sunbeams and eternal joy. + +And higher yet it flew, and higher, yet higher, higher—yea, till it set +its feet—— + +Where man can hear no longer the voice of lamentation, nor the mournful +discords of all things that breathe—— + +Where only fragrant lilies exhale balmy odours, where fields of flowers +in bloom waft honey-sweet scents athwart the air; where starry rivers +roll over beds of a million hues; where night comes never at all—— + +Where silent prayers go up for ever, like smoke of incense, in +odoriferous clouds; and the bells tinkle, and the organ plays softly; +and the ransomed people—Angels and Saints together—sing the Lord’s +praises in the Holy Church, the divine and lasting City! + +Yes, worn out and longing to be at rest, thither did the soul of Kuba +fly away! + + * * * * * + +But in the house they all were dancing—enjoying themselves with the +heartiest mirth and the best goodwill. Better still than the evening +before, the good cheer being dealt out more generously, and the hosts +more pressing. And so they danced till they could dance no more. + +The place was in commotion, like a cauldron set upon a great fire. Did +the enjoyment show any signs of flagging, at once the band set to with +renewed zeal; and the guests, like a field stirred by the wind and +waving, sprang up and began to dance anew with fresh fire and song and +din and tumult. + +Now were their souls quite melted within them by the volcanic enthusiasm +of their host; their blood seethed hot, reason was almost giving way, +their hearts were beating with the wildest frenzy. For them, every +movement now seemed a dance, every cry a song, and every look a glance +of ecstasy! + +And so it went on all night long, and even till morning. But the day +rose, dull and still: the rays of dawn appeared together with dense +dreary masses of clouds. Ere the sun had risen, the world grew very dark +and dismal. And then the snow came down: at first whirling, fluttering, +scanty—as when the needles fall from pine-trees on a windy day; until it +set to falling in earnest. + +Then, as though coming through a sieve, the snow descended in +perpendicular flakes, straight down, equally dealt out, monotonous, +noiseless, covering roofs, trees, and hedges, and all the land, as with +an enormous covering of white feathers. + +The wedding was really at an end at last. True, they were to meet again +at the tavern in the evening, “to wind up”; but for the present they +decided to return home. + +Only the bridesmen and bridesmaids, with the band to lead them, drew up +in the porch and sang in unison a short song, in which, declaring +themselves the devoted servants of the wedded couple, they wished them +good night—in the morning! + +It was then that Kuba laid his soul at the sacred feet of the Lord +Jesus.... + + + + + END OF PART I + + + + + _Some recent American novels_ + + +BALISAND _by Joseph Hergesheimer_ + +_author of_ THE THREE BLACK PENNYS, JAVA HEAD, _etc._ + +This is Mr. Hergesheimer’s first novel in some years; it will not +disappoint his many thousands of admirers. The Virginia of Washington +and Jefferson, the century-old struggle between politics and patriotism +live again in the life, loves and death of Richard Bale of Balisand. + + $2.50 + + +THE TATTOOED COUNTESS _by Carl Van Vechten_ + +_author of_ PETER WHIFFLE _and_ THE BLIND BOW-BOY. + +With The Tattooed Countess Van Vechten takes on a new importance as a +novelist, for while this book is as amusing as anything that has come +from his pen it is also a serious thoroughly original picture of +American provincial life a generation ago. It deserves the attention of +all who care for the American novel at its best. + + $2.50 + + +SOUND AND FURY _by James Henle_ + +A first novel by a young American and a work of real distinction. The +protagonist, a remarkably vivid character, is an instinctive +individualist, the sort of man who must be a law unto himself. The +inevitable conflict between such a man and the American mob spirit that +will tolerate only conformity makes a novel of unusual significance. + + $2.50 + + +THE ETERNAL HUNTRESS _by Rayner Seelig_ + +Woman, the eternal huntress, in her search for the father of those +children which shall be her gift to posterity is the theme of this +striking first novel by a young American. It would be difficult to name +another novel of recent years that treats of the sex problems of the +younger generation as frankly and withal as cleanly and vividly. + + $2.00 + + +THE FIRE IN THE FLINT _by Walter F. White_ + +A first novel of unusual dramatic power dealing with the Georgia Negro. +A negro himself the author knows only too well the countless barriers +and humiliations heaped upon his race, the inescapable conflict of white +against black. The incidents form an exciting narrative, dramatic and +very human. + + $2.50 + + +WINGS _by Ethel M. Kelley_ + +Does genius, brilliancy confer upon a man the right to use the lives of +lesser people in the making of his success? _WINGS_ is the “inside +story” of the career of a brilliant editor, of the women from whose love +he built his ladder to eminence. Miss Kelley gives us a remarkably vivid +picture of New York’s intellectual set. + + +THE TIDE _by Mildred Cram_ + +A novel of our materialistic young people. Mildred Cram has a true +perspective on fashionable New York. Lilah Peabody, the heroine, marries +wealth and position in the firm belief that those two elements added +make happiness and when they do not satisfy her, she takes her own way +out. She is gallant, this Lilah, a charming schemer. A real person and +an interesting one. + + $2.50 + + +THE PROWLER _by Hugh Wiley_ + +_author of_ THE WILDCAT _and_ LADY LUCK. + +Once again Hugh Wiley scored a laughing hit with his inimitable Wildcat +Vitus Marsden and elusive Lady Luck. From Pullman Porter to motion +picture actor, from familiar crap shooter to member of a Grand Secret +Lodge, the Wildcat prowls spreading infectious laughter as he goes. + + $2.00 + + +THREE PILGRIMS AND A TINKER _by Mary Borden_ + +_author of_ JANE—OUR STRANGER, _etc._ + +The success of Jane—Our Stranger in England and America has won for Mary +Borden a large and well deserved American audience. This new novel is a +story of that part of England that lives to hunt, where women speak with +a marvellous gentleness to their horses and brusquely to their +children,—and men never speak at all. It is as finely original and +artistic a piece of work as we have come to expect from her. + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + + 1. Italic text in the original is delimited by underscores. + + 2. Bold text in the original is delimited by equals signs. + + 3. Footnotes originally appearing at the bottom of a given page have + been moved to directly below the paragraph in which they appear. + + 4. Footnote 7 is missing “—_Translator’s Note_”, unlike the rest of + the footnotes in the main text. + + 5. Hyphenated words were silently joined across lines and pages when + the intended word was clear. + + 6. The following table notes the other material changes made to the + printed text, in order to correct apparent printing errors + (punctuation, spelling, quotation marks, repeated words), and to + standardize spelling and hyphenation for identical words to the + more common usage across all four volumes. Changes are denoted in + [brackets]. + + =Page= =Text= =Operation= + 4 with out[-]stretched beaks Removed + 7 his shock of tou[z/s]led hair Replaced + 12 the church[-]roof and steeple Added + 16 to him, Yu[s/z]ka. He has Replaced + 16 Oh, dear! Oh[,] dear! Added + 17 on the thresh[h]old, bewildered Removed + 18 of a grind[-]stone that Removed + 24 “Well[./,]” he said Replaced + 30 there is [W/V]eronka Replaced + 31 young whipper[-]snapper who Removed + 32 like silver dew[-]drops, and Removed + 32 instead of cho[o]sing a Added + 36 was hoar[ ]frost on Removed + 36 orchard with the hoar[-]frost still Removed + 37 like a sow![”] Removed + 38 sun was up,[ up,] making the Removed + hoar[-]frost a dust + 38 on the cow[-]byre threshold Added + 42 and water[-]drops dripped Removed + 47 like corn[-]stalks in a sheaf. Removed + 50 and having goose[-]flesh, mended my Removed + 54 my dearest![’] Added + 63 [“]Are you going Added + 65 Squire of Dja[s/z]gova Vola Replaced + 69 red shoe[-]strings to Removed + 69 outside the lich[-]gate. She was indeed Added + 72 beyond Yule[-]tide—Well Added + 76 his skull[-]cap and Removed + 77 kopeks for each of them.[”] Added + 80 a short, thick[-]set, curly-headed Removed + 81 ashes. Then [K/F]ranek went off Replaced + 86 cold of the hoar[-]frosts Removed + 86 distance. Or mighty horn[è/e]d heads Replaced + 88 rattling panes[./,] and Replaced + 88 previous to Yule[-]tide, Added + 89 and brush[-]wood for Removed + 92 every high[-]way and Removed + 95 at Yule[-]tide, or with Added + 95 his snuff[-]box to Boryna. Added + 97 lanes and court[-]yards were Added + 97 laugh. Thence[-]forward Boryna Removed + 103 room in the court[-]yard Added + 107 the biggest pea.[ “/” ]This he said Replaced + 110 [“]Say a prayer Added + 111 Ambrose; [“]I say Added + 115 the melancholy cross[-]ways, Removed + 117 [”/“]Yes, we have. Time Replaced + 123 [“]Yagna blushed scarlet Removed + 129 woman in child[-]bed at the farther Removed + 135 soon as [b/h]e began Replaced + 136 you were a cow[-]herd Removed + 146 with me, Burek![’] Added + 148 and blooming[,/.] Replaced + 148 the dire[s/c]tion of Replaced + 151 take place[,/.] They Replaced + 153 sooner: not[h]withstanding, he Removed + 155 grand one.[’/”] Replaced + 155 watchdogs in the farm[-]yards. Added + 156 his capote[,] Added + 158 Her step[-]children would Removed + 160 not suffer loneliness!’[ ”] So Ambrose Added + 161 straight talk with the man[,/.] Replaced + 167 at the church[-]door now and then Added + 192 sleep in the cow[-]house or the stable Added + 194 side of the court[-]yard Added + 200 whose white[-]washed walls now Removed + 208 used as a store[-]room Added + 211 the noon[-]day meal Removed + 216 coming out of the sacris[t]y. Added + 227 me!...[)] They Added + 227 should grim Cross[-B/b]ones stare Replaced + 232 wife and Va[c]hnikova made a Added + 232 your corn[-]stacks piled Removed + 234 of the hey[-]day in the Added + 235 their slumb[e]rous frost-crowned Added + 240 deathly and corpse[-]like Added + unconsciousness + 241 you’ll not escape Cross[-]bones’ Removed + 245 take me to the law[-]court; Added + 250 matters before[-]hand and, Removed + 256 to a blood[-]stained ax and Removed + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75846 *** |