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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8378-8.txt b/8378-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44799c8 --- /dev/null +++ b/8378-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12640 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Polish Tales, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Selected Polish Tales + +Author: Various + +Posting Date: January 8, 2013 [EBook #8378] +Release Date: June, 2005 +First Posted: July 4, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + +SELECTED + +POLISH TALES + +TRANSLATED BY + +ELSE C. M. BENECKE + +AND + +MARIE BUSCH + + + +_This selection of Tales by Polish authors was first published in +'The World's Classics' in 1921 and reprinted in 1928, 1942, and +1944._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +PREFACE + + +THE OUTPOST. By BOLESLAW PRUS + +A PINCH of SALT. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +FOREBODINGS. By STEFAN ZERKOMSKI + +A POLISH SCENE. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +DEATH. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +THE SENTENCE. By J. KADEN-BANDROWSKI + +'P.P.C.' By MME KYCIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +PREFACE + + +My friend the late Miss Else C. M. Benecke left a number of Polish +stories in rough translation, and I am carrying out her wishes in +editing them and handing them over to English readers. In spite of +failing health during the last years of her life, she worked hard at +translations from this beautiful but difficult language, and the two +volumes, _Tales by Polish Authors_ and _More Tales by Polish +Authors_, published by Mr. Basil Blackwell at Oxford, were among the +first attempts to make modern Polish fiction known in this country. In +both these volumes I collaborated with her. + +England is fortunate in counting Joseph Conrad among her own novelists; +although a Pole by birth he is one of the greatest masters of English +style. The Polish authors who have written in their own language have +perhaps been most successful in the short story. Often it is so slight +that it can hardly be called a story, but each of these sketches +conveys a distinct atmosphere of the country and the people, and shows +the individuality of each writer. The unhappy state of Poland for more +than 150 years has placed political and social problems in the +foreground of Polish literature. Writers are therefore judged and +appraised by their fellow-countrymen as much by their patriotism as by +their literary and artistic merits. + +Of the authors whose work is presented in this volume _Prus_ +(Aleksander Glowacki), the veteran of modern Polish novelists, is the +one most loved by his own countrymen. His books are written partly with +a moral object, as each deals with a social evil. But while he exposes +the evil, his warm heart and strong sense of justice--combined with a +sense of humour--make him fair and even generous to all. + +The poignant appeal of _Szymánski's_ stories lies in the fact that +they are based on personal experiences. He was banished to Yakutsk in +Siberia for six years when he was quite a young man and had barely +finished his studies at the University of Warsaw, at a time when every +profession of radicalism, however moderate, was punished severely by +the Russian authorities. He died, a middle-aged man, during the War, +after many years of literary and journalistic activity in the interest +of his country. Neither he nor Prus lived to see Poland free and +republican, an ideal for which they had striven. + +_Zeromski_ is a writer of intense feeling. If Prus's kindly and +simple tales are the most beloved, Zeromski's more subtle psychological +treatment of his subjects is the most admired, and he is said to mark +an epoch in Polish fiction. In the two short sketches contained in this +volume, as well as in most of his short stories and longer novels, the +dominant note is human suffering. + +_Reymont_, who is a more impersonal writer and more detached from +his subject, is perhaps the most artistic among the authors of short +stories. His volume entitled _Peasants_, from which the two +sketches in this collection are taken, gives very powerful and +realistic pictures of life in the villages. + +_Kaden-Bandrowski_ is a very favourite author in his own country, +as many of his short stories deal with Polish life during the Great +War. In the early part of the War he joined the Polish Legions which +formed the nucleus of Pilsudski's army, and shared their varying +fortunes. During the greater part of this time he edited a radical +newspaper for his soldiers, in whom he took a great interest. The +story, _The Sentence_, was translated by me from a French +translation kindly made by the author. + +Mme _Rygier-Nalkowska_, who, with Kaden-Bandrowski, belongs to the +youngest group of Polish writers, is a strong feminist of courageous +views, and a keen satirist of certain national and social conventions. +The present volume only contains a short sketch--a personal experience +of hers during the early part of the War. It would be considered a very +daring thing for a Polish lady to venture voluntarily into the zone of +the Russian army, but her little sketch shows the individual Russian to +be as human as any other soldier. This sketch and the first of +Reymont's have been translated by Mr. Joseph Solomon, whose knowledge +of Slavonic languages makes him a most valuable co-operator. + +My share in the work has been to put Miss Benecke's literal translation +into a form suitable for publication, and to get into touch with the +authors or their representatives, to whom I would now tender my +grateful thanks for their courteous permission to issue this volume, +viz. to Mme Glowacka, widow of 'Prus', to the sons of the late Mr. +Szymánski, to MM. Zeromski, Reymont, Kaden-Bandrowski, and to Mme +Rygier-Nalkowska, all of Warsaw. + +MARIE BUSCH. + + + + + + +THE OUTPOST + +BY + +BOLESLAW PRUS + +(ALEKSANDER GLOWACKI) + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The river Bialka springs from under a hill no bigger than a cottage; +the water murmurs in its little hollow like a swarm of bees getting +ready for their flight. + +For the distance of fifteen miles the Bialka flows on level ground. +Woods, villages, trees in the fields, crucifixes by the roadside show +up clearly and become smaller and smaller as they recede into the +distance. It is a bit of country like a round table on which human +beings live like a butterfly covered by a blue flower. What man finds +and what another leaves him he may eat, but he must not go too far or +fly too high. + +Fifteen to twenty miles farther to the south the country begins to +change. The shallow banks of the Bialka rise and retreat from each +other, the flat fields become undulating, the path leads ever more +frequently and steeply up and down hill. + +The plain has disappeared and given place to a ravine; you are +surrounded by hills of the height of a many-storied house; all are +covered with bushes; sometimes the ascent is steep, sometimes gradual. +The first ravine leads into a second, wilder and narrower, thence into +a succession of nine or ten. Cold and dampness cling to you when you +walk through them; you climb one of the hills and find yourself +surrounded by a network of forking and winding ravines. + +A short distance from the river-banks the landscape is again quite +different. The hills grow smaller and stand separate like great +ant-hills. You have emerged from the country of ravines into the broad +valley of the Bialka, and the bright sun shines full into your eyes. + +If the earth is a table on which Providence has spread a banquet for +creation, then the valley of the Bialka is a gigantic, long-shaped dish +with upturned rim. In the winter this dish is white, but at other +seasons it is like majolica, with forms severe and irregular, but +beautiful. The Divine Potter has placed a field at the bottom of the +dish and cut it through from north to south with the ribbon of the +Bialka sparkling with waves of sapphire blue in the morning, crimson in +the evening, golden at midday, and silver in moonlit nights. + +When He had formed the bottom, the Great Potter shaped the rim, taking +care that each side should possess an individual physiognomy. + +The west bank is wild; the field touches the steep gravel hills, where +a few scattered hawthorn bushes and dwarf birches grow. Patches of +earth show here and there, as though the turf had been peeled. Even the +hardiest plants eschew these patches, where instead of vegetation the +surface presents clay and strata of sand, or else rock showing its +teeth to the green field. + +The east bank has a totally different character; it forms an +amphitheatre with three tiers. The first tier above the field is of +mould and contains a row of cottages surrounded by trees: this is the +village. On the second tier, where the ground is clay, stands the +manor-house, almost on top of the village, with which an avenue of old +lime-trees connects it. To the right and left extend the manor-fields, +large and rectangular, sown with wheat, rye, and peas, or else lying +fallow. The sandy soil of the third tier is sown with rye or oats and +fringed by the pine-forest, its contours showing black against the sky. + +The northern ridge contains little hills standing singly. One of them +is the highest in the neighbourhood and is crowned by a solitary pine. +This hill, together with two others, is the property of the +gospodarz[1] The gospodarstwo is like a hermitage; it is a long way +from the village and still farther from the manor-house. + +[Footnote 1: _Gospodarz_: the owner of a small holding, as +distinct from the villager, who owns no land and is simply an +agricultural labourer. The word, which means host, master of the house, +will be used throughout the book. _Gospodyni_: hostess, mistress +of the holding. _Gospodarstwo_: the property.] + + +Josef Slimak. + + +Slimak's cottage is by the roadside, the front door opening on to the +road, the back door into the yard; the cowhouse and pigsty are under +one roof, the barn, stable, and cart-shed forming the other three sides +of the square courtyard. + +The peasants chaff Slimak for living in exile like a Sibiriak.[1] It is +true, they say, that he lives nearer to the church, but on the other +hand he has no one to open his mouth to. + +[Footnote 1: Sibiriak: a person of European birth or extraction living +in Siberia.] + +However, his solitude is not complete. On a warm autumn day, when the +white-coated gospodarz is ploughing on the hill with a pair of horses, +you can see his wife and a girl, both in red petticoats, digging up +potatoes. + +Between the hills the thirteen-year-old Jendrek[1] minds the cows and +performs strange antics meanwhile to amuse himself. If you look more +closely you will also find the eight-year-old Stasiek[2] with hair as +white as flax, who roams through the ravines or sits under the lonely +pine on the hill and looks thoughtfully into the valley. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling, _Jedrek_ (pronounced as given, +Jendrek, with the French sound of _en_): Andrew.] + +[Footnote 2: _Stasiek_: diminutive of Stanislas.] + +That gospodarstwo--a drop in the sea of human interest--was a small +world in itself which had gone through various phases and had a history +of its own. + +For instance, there was the time when Josef Slimak had scarcely seven +acres of land and only his wife in the cottage. Then there came two +surprises, his wife bore him a son--Jendrek,--and as the result of the +servituty[1] his holding was increased by three acres. + +[Footnote 1: _Servituty_ are pieces of land which, on the +abolition of serfdom, the landowners had to cede to the peasants +formerly their serfs. The settlement was left to the discretion of the +owners, and much bargaining and discontent on both sides resulted +therefrom; the peasants had to pay percentage either in labour or in +produce to the landowner.] + +Both these circumstances created a great change in the gospodarz's +life; he bought another cow and pig and occasionally hired a labourer. + +Some years later his second son, Stasiek, was born. Then Slimakowa[1] +hired a woman by way of an experiment for half a year to help her with +the work. + +[Footnote 1: Slimakowa: Polish form for Mrs. Slimak.] + +Sobieska stayed for nine months, then one night she escaped to the +village, her longing for the public-house having become too strong. Her +place was taken by 'Silly Zoska'[1] for another six months. Slimakowa +was always hoping that the work would grow less, and she would be able +to dispense with a servant. However, 'Silly Zoska' stayed for six +years, and when she went into service at the manor the work at the +cottage had not grown less. So the gospodyni engaged a fifteen-year-old +orphan, Magda, who preferred to go into service, although she had a +cow, a bit of land, and half a cottage of her own. She said that her +uncle beat her too much, and that her other relations only offered her +the cold comfort that the more he applied the stick the better it would +be for her. + +[Footnote: Zoska: diminutive of Sophia.] + +Up till then Slimak had chiefly done his own farm work and rarely hired +a labourer. This still left him time to go to work at the manor with +his horses, or to carry goods from the town for the Jews. + +When, however, he was summoned more and more often to the manor, he +found that the day-labourer was not sufficient, and began to look out +for a permanent farm-hand. + +One autumn day, after his wife had been rating him severely for not yet +having found a farmhand, it chanced that Maciek Owczarz,[1] whose foot +had been crushed under a cart, came out of the hospital. The lame man's +road led him past Slimak's cottage; tired and miserable he sat down on +a stone by the gate and looked longingly into the entrance. The +gospodyni was boiling potatoes for the pigs, and the smell was so good, +as the little puffs of steam spread along the highroad, that it went +into the very pit of Maciek's stomach. He sat there in fascination, +unable to move. + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: Ovcharge. _Maciek_ +(pron. Machik): Matthew.] + +'Is that you, Owczarz?' Slimakowa asked, hardly recognizing the poor +wretch in his rags. + +'Indeed, it is I,' the man answered miserably. + +'They said in the village that you had been killed.' + +'I have been worse off than that; I have been in the hospital. I wish I +had been left under the cart, I shouldn't be so hungry now.' + +The gospodyni became thoughtful. + +'If only one could be sure that you wouldn't die, you could stay here +as our farm-hand.' + +The poor fellow jumped up from his seat and walked to the door, +dragging his foot. + +'Why should I die?' he cried, 'I am quite well, and when I have a bit +to eat I can do the work of two. Give me barszcz[1] and I will chop up +a cartload of wood for you. Try me for a week, and I will plough all +those fields. I will serve you for old clothes and patched boots, so +long as I have a shelter for the winter.' + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: barsht. The national dish of +the peasants; it is made with beetroot and bread, tastes slightly sour, +and is said to be delicious.] + +Here Maciek paused, astonished at himself for having said so much, for +he was silent by nature. + +Slimakowa looked him up and down, gave him a bowl of barszcz and +another of potatoes, and told him to wash in the river. When her +husband came home in the evening Maciek was introduced to him as the +farm-hand who had already chopped wood and fed the cattle. + +Slimak listened in silence. As he was tenderhearted he said, after a +pause: + +'Well, stay with us, good man. It will be better for us and better for +you. And if ever--God grant that may not happen--there should be no +bread in the cottage at all, then you will be no worse off than you are +to-day. Rest, and you will set about your work all right.' + +Thus it came about that this new inmate was received into the cottage. +He was quiet as a mouse, faithful as a dog, and industrious as a pair +of horses, in spite of his lameness. + +After that, with the exception of the yellow dog Burek, no additions +were made to Slimak's household, neither children nor servants nor +property. Life at the gospodarstwo went with perfect regularity. All +the labour, anxiety, and hopes of these human beings centred in the one +aim: daily bread. For this the girl carried in the firewood, or, +singing and jumping, ran to the pit for potatoes. For this the +gospodyni milked the cows at daybreak, baked bread, and moved her +saucepans on and off the fire. For this Maciek, perspiring, dragged his +lame leg after the plough and harrow, and Slimak, murmuring his +morning-prayers, went at dawn to the manor-barn or drove into the town +to deliver the corn which he had sold to the Jews. + +For the same reason they worried when there was not enough snow on the +rye in winter, or when they could not get enough fodder for the cattle; +or prayed for rain in May and for fine weather at the end of June. On +this account they would calculate after the harvest how much corn they +would get out of a korzec,[1] and what prices it would fetch. Like bees +round a hive their thoughts swarmed round the question of daily bread. +They never moved far from this subject, and to leave it aside +altogether was impossible. They even said with pride that, as gentlemen +were in the world to enjoy themselves and to order people about, so +peasants existed for the purpose of feeding themselves and others. + +[Footnote 1: A _korzec_ is twelve hundred sheaves.] + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was April. After their dinner Slimak's household dispersed to their +different occupations. The gospodyni, tying a red handkerchief round +her head and a white linen one round her neck, ran down to the river. +Stasiek followed her, looking at the clouds and observing to himself +that they were different every day. Magda busied herself washing up the +dinner things, singing 'Oh, da, da', louder and louder in proportion as +the mistress went farther away. Jendrek began pushing Magda about, +pulling the dog's tail and whistling penetratingly; finally he ran out +with a spade into the orchard. Slimak sat by the stove. He was a man of +medium height with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. He had a calm +face, short moustache, and thick straight hair falling abundantly over +his forehead and on to his neck. A red-glass stud set in brass shone in +his sacking shirt. He rested the elbow of his left arm on his right +fist and smoked a pipe, but when his eyes closed and his head fell too +far forward, he righted himself and rested his right elbow on his left +fist. He puffed out the grey smoke and dozed alternately, spitting now +and then into the middle of the room or shifting his hands. When the +pipestem began to twitter like a young sparrow, he knocked the bowl a +few times against the bench, emptied the ashes, and poked his finger +down. Yawning, he got up and laid the pipe on the shelf. + +He glanced under his brows at Magda and shrugged his shoulders. The +liveliness of the girl who skipped about while she was washing her +dishes, roused a contemptuous compassion in him. He knew well what it +felt like to have no desire for skipping about, and how great the +weight of a man's head, hands, and feet can be when he has been hard at +work. + +He put on his thick hobnailed boots and a stiff sukmana,[1] fastened a +hard strap round his waist, and put on his high sheepskin cap. The +heaviness in his limbs increased, and it came into his mind that it +would be more suitable to be buried in a bundle of straw after a huge +bowl of peeled barley-soup and another of cheese dumplings, than to go +to work. But he put this thought aside, and went out slowly into the +yard. In his snuff-coloured sukmana and black cap he looked like the +stem of a pine, burnt at the top. + +[Footnote 1: _Sukmana_, a long linen coat, often elaborately +embroidered.] + +The barn door was open, and by sheer perversity some bundles of straw +were peeping out, luring Slimak to a doze. But he turned away his head +and looked at one of the hills where he had sown oats that morning. He +fancied the yellow grain in the furrows was looking frightened, as if +trying in vain to hide from the sparrows that were picking it up. + +'You will eat me up altogether,' Slimak muttered. With heavy steps he +approached the shed, took out the two harrows, and led the chestnuts +out of the stable; one was yawning and the other moved his lips, +looking at Slimak and blinking his eyes, as if he thought: 'Would you +not prefer to doze and not to drag us up the hill? Didn't we do enough +work for you yesterday?' Slimak nodded, as if in answer, and drove off. + +Seen from below, the thick-set man and the horses with heads hanging +down, seemed to harrow the blue sky, moving a few hundred paces +backward and forward. As often as they reached the edge of the sown +field, a flight of sparrows rose up, twittering angrily, and flew over +them like a cloud, then settled at the other end, shrieking continually +in astonishment that earth should be poured on to such lovely grain. + +'Silly fool! Silly fool! What a silly fool!' they cried. + +'Bah!' murmured Slimak, cracking his whip at them, 'if I listened to +you idlers, you and I would both starve under the fence. The beggars +are playing the deuce here!' + +Certainly Slimak got little encouragement in his labour. Not only that +the sparrows noisily criticized his work, and the chestnuts scornfully +whisked their tails under his nose, but the harrows also objected, and +resisted at every little stone or clod of earth. The tired horses +continually stumbled, and when Slimak cried 'Woa, my lads!' and they +went on, the harrows again resisted and pulled them back. When the +worried harrows moved on for a bit, stones got into the horses' feet or +under his own shoes, or choked up, and even broke the teeth of the +harrows. Even the ungrateful earth offered resistance. + +'You are worse than a pig!' the man said angrily. 'If I took to +scratching a pig's back with a horsecomb, it would lie down quietly and +grunt with gratitude. But you are always bristling, as if I did you an +injury!' + +The sun took up the affronted earth's cause, and threw a great sheaf of +light across the ashen-coloured field, where dark and yellow patches +were visible. + +'Look at that black patch,' said the sun, 'the hill was all black like +that when your father sowed wheat on it. And now look at the yellow +patch where the stony ground comes out from under the mould and will +soon possess all your land.' + +'But that is not my fault,' said Slimak. + +'Not your fault?' whispered the earth; 'you yourself eat three times a +day, but how often do you feed me? It is much if it is once in eight +years. And then you think you give me a great deal, but a dog would +starve on such fare. You know that you always grudge me the manure, +shame on you!' + +The penitent peasant hung his head. + +'And you sleep twice in twenty-four hours unless your wife drives you +to work, but how much rest do you give me? Once in ten years, and then +your cattle trample upon me. So I am to be content with being harrowed? +Just try giving no hay or litter to your cows, only scratch them and +see whether they will give you milk. They will get ill, the slaughterer +will have to be sent for, and even the Jew will give you nothing for +their hides.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed the peasant, acknowledging that the earth +was right. But no one pitied or comforted him--on the contrary! The +west wind rose, and twining itself among the dry stalks on the +field-paths, whistled: + +'Look sharp, you'll catch it! I will bring such a deluge of rain that +the remainder of the mould will be spurted on to the highroad or into +the manor-fields. And though you should harrow with your own teeth, you +shall get less and less comfort every year! I will make everything +sterile!' + +The wind was not threatening in vain. In Slimak's father's time ten +korzy of sheaves an acre had been harvested here. Now he had to be +thankful for seven, and what was going to happen in the future? + +'That's a peasant's lot,' murmured Slimak, 'work, work, work, and from +one difficulty you get into another. If only it could be otherwise, if +only I could manage to have another cow and perhaps get that little +meadow....' + +His whip was pointed at the green field by the Bialka. + +But the sparrows only twittered 'You fool!' and the earth groaned: 'You +are starving me!' + +He stopped the horses and looked around him to divert his thoughts. + +Jendrek was digging between the cottage and the highroad, throwing +stones at the birds now and then or singing out of tune: + + 'God grant you, God grant you + That I may not find you. + For else, my fair maid, + You should open your gate.' + +And Magda answered from within: + + 'Although I am poor + And my mother was poor, + I'll not at the gate + Kiss you early or late.' + +Slimak turned towards the river where his wife could be plainly seen in +her white chemise and red skirt, bending over the water and beating the +linen with a stick until the valley rang. Stasiek had already strayed +farther towards the ravines. Sometimes he knelt down on the bank and +gazed into the river, supported on his elbows. Slimak smiled. + +'Peering again! What does he see down there?' he whispered. + +Stasiek was his favourite, and struck him as an unusual child, who +could see things that others did not see. + +While Slimak cracked his whip and the horses went on, his thoughts were +travelling in the direction of the desired field. + +'How much land have I got?' he meditated, 'ten acres; if I had only +sown six or seven every year and let the rest lie fallow, how could I +have fed my hungry family? And the man, he eats as much as I do, though +he is lame; and he has fifteen roubles wages besides. Magda eats less, +but then she is lazy enough to make a dog howl. I'm lucky when they +want me for work at the manor, or if a Jewess hires my horses to go for +a drive, or my wife sells butter and eggs. And what is there saved when +all is said and done? Perhaps fifty roubles in the whole year. When we +were first married, a hundred did not astonish me. Manure the ground +indeed! Let the squire take it into his head not to employ me, or not +to sell me fodder, what then? I should have to drive the cattle to +market and die of hunger. + +'I am not as well off as Gryb or Lukasiak or Sarnecki. They live like +gentlemen. One drives to church with his wife, the other wears a cap +like a burgher, and the third would like to turn out the Wojt[1] and +wear the chain himself. But I have to say to myself, 'Be poor on ten +acres and go and bow and scrape to the bailiff at the manor that he may +remember you. Well, let it be as it is! Better be master on a square +yard of your own than a beggar on another's large estate.' A cloud of +dust was rising on the high-road beyond the river. Some one was coming +towards the bridge from the manor-house, riding in a peculiar fashion. +The wind blew from behind, but the dust was so thick that sometimes it +travelled backwards. Occasionally horse and rider showed above it, but +the next moment it whirled round and round them again, as if the road +was raising a storm. Slimak shaded his eyes with his hand. + +[Footnote 1: The designations Wojt and Soltys are derived from the +German Vogt and Sdiultheiss. Their functions in the townships or +villages are of a different kind; in small villages there may be only +one of these functionaries, the Soltys. He is the representative of the +Government, collects rates and taxes and requisitions horses for the +army. The Wojt is head of the village, and magistrate. All legal +matters would be referred to him.] + +'What an odd way of riding? who can it be? not the squire, nor his +coachman. He can't be a Catholic, not even a Jew; for although a Jew +would bob up and down on the horse as he does, he would never make a +horse go in that reckless way. It must be some crazy stranger.' + +The rider had now come near enough for Slimak to see what he was like. +He was slim and dressed in gentleman's clothes, consisting of a light +suit and velvet jockey cap. He had eyeglasses on his nose and a cigar +in his mouth, and he was carrying his riding whip under his arm, +holding the reins in both hands between the horse's neck and his own +beard, while he was shaking violently up and down; he hugged the saddle +so tightly with his bow legs that his trousers were rucked up, showing +his calves. + +Anyone in the very least acquainted with equestrian matters could guess +that this was the first time the rider had sat upon a horse, or that +the horse had carried such a rider. At moments they seemed to be +ambling along harmoniously, until the bobbing cavalier would lose his +balance and tug at the reins; then the horse, which had a soft mouth, +would turn sideways or stand still; the rider would then smack his +lips, and if this had no effect he would fumble for the whip. The +horse, guessing what was required, would start again, shaking him up +and down until he looked like a rag doll badly sewn together. + +All this did not upset his temper, for indeed, this was the first time +the rider had realized the dearest wish of a lifetime, and he was +enjoying himself to the full. + +Sometimes the quiet but desperate horse would break into a gallop. Then +the rider, keeping his balance by a miracle, would drop his +bridle-fantasias and imagine himself a cavalry captain riding to the +attack at the head of his squadron, until, unaccustomed to his rank of +officer, he would perform some unexpected movement which made the horse +suddenly stand still again, and would cause the gallant captain to hit +his nose or his cigar against the neck of his steed. + +He was, moreover, a democratic gentleman. When the horse took a fancy +to trot towards the village instead of towards the bridge, a crowd of +dogs and children ran after him with every sign of pleasure. Instead of +annoyance a benevolent enjoyment would then take possession of him, for +next to riding exercise he passionately loved the people, because they +could manage horses. After a while, however, his role of cavalry +captain would please him more, and after further performances with the +reins, he succeeded in turning back towards the bridge. He evidently +intended to ride through the length and breadth of the valley. + +Slimak was still watching him. + +'Eh, that must be the squire's brother-in-law, who was expected from +Warsaw,' he said to himself, much amused; 'our squire chose a gracious +little wife, and was not even very long about it; but he might have +searched the length of the world for a brother-in-law like that! A bear +would be a commoner sight in these parts than a man sitting a horse as +he does! He looks as stupid as a cowherd--still, he is the squire's +brother-in-law.' + +While Slirnak was thus taking the measure of this friend of the people, +the latter had reached the bridge; the noise of Slimakowa's stick had +attracted his attention. He turned the horse towards the bridge-rail +and craned his neck over the water; indeed, his slim figure and peaked +jockey cap made him look uncommonly like a crane. + +'What does he want now?' thought Slimak. The horseman was evidently +asking Slimakowa a question, for she got up and raised her head. Slimak +noticed for the first time that she was in the habit of tucking up her +skirts very high, showing her bare knees. + +'What the deuce does he want?' he repeated, objecting to the short +skirt. + +The cavalier rode off the bridge with no little difficulty and reined +up beside the woman. Slimak was now watching breathlessly. + +Suddenly the young man stretched out his hand towards Slimakowa's neck, +but she raised her stick so threateningly that the scared horse started +away at a gallop, and the rider was left clinging to his neck. + +'Jagna! what are you doing?' shouted Slimak; 'that's the squire's +brother-in-law, you fool!' + +But the shout did not reach her, and the young man did not seem at all +offended. He kissed his hand to Slimakowa and dug his heels into the +horse, which threw up its head and started in the direction of the +cottage at a sharp trot. But this time success did not attend the +rider, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and clutching his charger +by the mane, he shouted: 'Stop, you devil!' + +Jendrek heard the cry, clambered on to the gate, and seeing the strange +performance, burst out laughing. The rider's jockey cap fell off. 'Pick +up the cap, my boy,' the horseman called out in passing. + +'Pick it up yourself,' laughed Jendrek, clapping his hands to excite +the horse still more. + +The father listened to the boy's answer speechless with astonishment, +but he soon recovered himself. + +'Jendrek, you young dog, give the gentleman his cap when he tells you!' +he cried. + +Jendrek took the jockey cap between two fingers, holding it in front of +him and offering it to the rider when he had succeeded in stopping his +horse. + +'Thank you, thank you very much,' he said, no less amused than Jendrek +himself. + +'Jendrek, take off your cap to the gentleman at once,' called Slimak. + +'Why should I take off my cap to everybody?' asked the lad saucily. + +'Excellent, that's right!...' The young man seemed pleased. 'Wait, you +shall have twenty kopeks for that; a free citizen should never humble +himself before anybody.' + +Slimak, by no means sharing the gentleman's democratic theories, +advanced towards Jendrek with his cap in one hand and the whip in the +other. + +'Citizen!' cried the cavalier, 'I beg you not to beat the boy...do not +crush his independent soul...do not...' he would have liked to have +continued, but the horse, getting bored, started off again in the +direction of the bridge. When he saw Slimakowa coming towards the +cottage, he took off his dusty cap and called out: + +'Madam, do not let him beat the boy!' + +Jendrek had disappeared. + +Slimak stood rooted to the spot, pondering upon this queer fish, who +first was impertinent to his wife, then called her 'Madam', and himself +'Citizen', and praised Jendrek for his cheek. + +He returned angrily to his horses. + +'Woa, lads! what's the world coming to? A peasant's son won't take off +his cap to a gentleman, and the gentleman praises him for it! He is the +squire's brother-in-law--all the same, he must be a little wrong in his +head. Soon there will be no gentlemen left, and then the peasants will +have to die. Maybe when Jendrek grows up he will look after himself; he +won't be a peasant, that's clear. Woa, lads!' + +He imagined Jendrek in button-boots and a jockey cap, and he spat. + +'Bah! so long as I am about, you won't dress like that, young dog! All +the same I shall have to warm his latter end for him, or else he won't +take his cap off to the squire next, and then I can go begging. It's +the wife's fault, she is always spoiling him. There's nothing for it, I +must give him a hiding.' + +Again dust was rising on the road, this time in the direction of the +plain. Slimak saw two forms, one tall, the other oblong; the oblong was +walking behind the tall one and nodding its head. + +'Who's sending a cow to market?' he thought, '... well, the boy must be +thrashed...if only I could have another cow and that bit of field.' + +He drove the horses down the hill towards the Bialka, where he caught +sight of Stasiek, but could see nothing more of his farm or of the +road. He was beginning to feel very tired; his feet seemed a heavy +weight, but the weight of uncertainty was still greater, and he never +got enough sleep. When his work was finished, he often had to drive off +to the town. + +'If I had another cow and that field,' he thought, 'I could sleep +more.' + +He had been meditating on this while harrowing over a fresh bit for +half an hour, when he heard his wife calling from the hill: + +'Josef, Josef!' + +'What's up?' + +'Do you know what has happened?' 'How should I know?' + +'Is it a new tax?' anxiously crossed his mind. + +'Magda's uncle has come, you know, that Grochowski....' + +'If he wants to take the girl back--let him.' + +'He has brought a cow and wants to sell her to Gryb for thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter. She is a lovely cow.' + +'Let him sell her; what's that to do with me?' + +'This much: that you are going to buy her,' said the woman firmly. + +Slimak dropped his hand with the whip, bent his head forward, and +looked at his wife. The proposal seemed monstrous. + +'What's wrong with you?' he asked. + +'Wrong with me?' She raised her voice. 'Can't I afford the cow? Gryb +has bought his wife a new cart, and you grudge me the beasts? There are +two cows in the shed; do you ever trouble about them? You wouldn't have +a shirt to your back if it weren't for them.' + +'Good Lord,' groaned the man, who was getting muddled by his wife's +eloquence,' how am I to feed her? they won't sell me fodder from the +manor.' + +'Rent that field, and you will have fodder.' + +'Fear God, Jagna! what are you saying? How am I to rent that field?' + +'Go to the manor and ask the square; say you will pay up the rent in a +year's time.' + +'As God lives, the woman is mad! our beasts pull a little from that +field now for nothing; I should be worse off, because I should have to +pay both for the cow and for the field. I won't go to the squire.' + +His wife came close up to him and looked into his eyes. 'You won't go?' + +'I won't go.' + +'Very well, then I will take what fodder there is and your horses may +go to the devil; but I won't let that cow go, _I_ will buy her!' + +'Then buy her.' + +'Yes, I will buy her, but you have got to do the bargaining with +Grochowski; I haven't the time, and I won't drink vodka with him.' + +'Drink! bargain with him! you are mad about that cow!' + +The quick-tempered woman shook her fist in his face. + +'Josef, don't upset me when you yourself have nothing at all to +propose. Listen! you are worrying every day that you haven't enough +manure; you are always telling me that you want three beasts, and when +the time comes, you won't buy them. The two cows you have cost you +nothing and bring you in produce, the third would be clear gain. +Listen.... I tell you, listen! Finish your work, then come indoors and +bargain for the cow; if not, I'll have nothing more to do with you.' + +She turned her back and went off. + +The man put his hands to his head. + +'God bless me, what a woman!' he groaned, 'how can I, poor devil, rent +that field? She persists in having the cow, and makes a fuss, and it +doesn't matter what you say, you may as well talk to a wall. Why was I +ever born? everything is against me. Woa, lads!' + +He fancied that the earth and the wind were laughing at him again: + +'You'll pay the thirty-five paper roubles and the silver rouble for the +halter! Week after week, month after month you have been putting by +your money, and to-day you'll spend it all as if you were cracking a +nut. You will swell Grochowski's pockets and your own pouch will be +empty. You will wait in fear and uncertainty at the manor and bow to +the bailiff when it pleases him to give you the receipt for your +rent!... + +'Perhaps the squire won't even let me have the field.' + +'Don't talk nonsense!' twittered the sparrows; 'you know quite well +that he'll let you have it.' + +'Oh yes, he'll let me have it,' he retorted hotly, 'for my good money. +I would rather bear a severe pain than waste money on such a foolish +thing.' + +The sun was low by the time Slimak had finished his last bit of +harrowing near the highroad. At the moment when he stopped he heard the +new cow low. Her voice pleased him and softened his heart a little. + +'Three cows is more than two,' he thought, 'people will respect me +more. But the money... ah well, it's all my own fault!' + +He remembered how many times he had said that he must have another cow +and that field, and had boasted to his wife that people had encouraged +him to carve his own farm implements, because he was so clever at it. + +She had listened patiently for two or three years; now at last she took +things into her own hands and told him to buy the cow and rent the +field at once. Merciful Jesu! what a hard woman! What would she drive +him to next? He would really have to put up sheds and make farm carts! + +Intelligent and even ingenious as Slimak was, he never dared to do +anything fresh unless driven to it. He understood his farm work +thoroughly, he could even mend the thrashing-machine at the +manor-house, and he kept everything in his head, beginning with the +rotation of crops on his land. Yet his mind lacked that fine thread +which joins the project to the accomplishment. Instead of this the +sense of obedience was very strongly developed in him. The squire, the +priest, the Wojt, his wife were all sent from God. He used to say: + +'A peasant is in the world to carry out orders.' + +The sun was sinking behind the hill crest when he drove his horses on +to the highroad, and he was pondering on how he would begin his +bargaining with Grochowski when he heard a guttural voice behind him, +'Heh! heh!' + +Two men were standing on the highroad, one was grey-headed and +clean-shaven, and wore a German peaked cap, the other young and tall, +with a beard and a Polish cap. A two-horse vehicle was drawn up a +little farther back. + +'Is that your field?' the bearded man asked in an unpleasant voice. + +'Stop, Fritz,' the elder interrupted him. + +'What am I to stop for?' the other said angrily. + +'Stop! Is this your land, gospodarz?' the grey-haired man asked very +politely. + +'Of course it's mine, who else should it belong to?' + +Stasiek came running up from the field at that moment and looked at the +strangers with a mixture of distrust and admiration. + +'And is that your field?' the bearded one repeated. + +'Stop, Fritz! Is it your field, gospodarz?' the old man corrected him. + +'It's not mine; it belongs to the manor.' + +'And whose is the hill with the pine?' + +'Stop, Fritz...' + +'Oh well, if you are going to interrupt all the time, father....' + +'Stop... is the hill yours, gospodarz?' + +'It's mine; no one else's.' + +'There you are, Fritz,' the old man said in German; 'that's the very +place for Wilhelm's windmill.' + +'The reason why Wilhelm has not yet put up a windmill is not that there +are no hills, but that he is a lazy fellow.' + +'Don't be disagreeable, Fritz! Then those fields beyond the highroad +and the ravines are not yours, gospodarz?' + +'How should they be, when they belong to the manor?' + +'Oh yes,' the bearded one interrupted impatiently; 'everyone knows that +he sits here in the manor-fields like a hole in a bridge. The devil +take the whole business.' + +'Wait, Fritz! Do the manor-fields surround you on all sides, +gospodarz?' + +'Of course.' + +'Well, that will do,' said the younger man, drawing his father towards +the carriage. + +'God bless you, gospodarz,' said the elder, touching his cap. + +'What a gossip you are, father! Wilhelm will never do anything; you may +find him ever so many hills.' + +'What do they want, daddy?' Stasiek asked suddenly. + +'Ah, yes! true!' + +Slimak was roused: 'Heh, sir!' + +The older man looked round. + +'What are you asking me all those questions for?' + +'Because it pleases us to do so,' the younger man answered, pushing his +father into the carriage. + +'Farewell! we shall meet again!' cried the old man. + +The carriage rolled away. + +'What a crew they are on the highroad to-day, it's like a fair!' said +Slimak. + +'But who are those people, daddy?' + +'Those? They must be Germans from Wolka, twelve miles from here.' + +'Why did they ask so many questions about your land?' + +'They are not the only ones to do that, child. This country pleases +people so much that they come over here from a long way off; they come +as far as the pine hill and then they go away again. That is all I know +about them.' + +He turned the horses homeward and was already forgetting the Germans. +The cow and the field were engaging all his thoughts. Supposing he +bought her! he would be able to manure the ground better, and he might +even pay an old man to come to the cottage for the winter and teach his +boys to read and write. What would the other peasants say to that? It +would greatly improve his position; he would have a better place in +church and at the inn, and with greater prosperity he would be able to +take more rest. + +Oh, for more rest! Slimak had never known hunger or cold, he had a good +home and human affection, and he would have been quite happy if only +his bones had not ached so much, and if he could have lain down or sat +still to his heart's content. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Returning to the courtyard, Slimak let Maciek take the horses. He +looked at the cow, which was tied to the fence. Despite the falling +darkness he could see that she was a beautiful creature; she was white +with black patches, had a small head, short horns and a large udder. He +examined her and admitted that neither of his cows were as fine as this +one. + +He thought of leading her round the yard, but he suddenly felt as if he +could not move another step, his arms seemed to be dropping from their +joints and his legs were sinking. Until sunset a man can go on +harrowing, but after sunset it is no good trying to do anything more. +So he patted the cow instead of leading her about. She seemed to +understand the situation, for she turned her head towards him and +touched his hand with her wet mouth. Slimak was so overcome with +emotion that he very nearly kissed her, as if she were a human being. + +'I must buy her,' he muttered, forgetting even his tiredness. + +The gospodyni stood in the door with a pail of dishwater for the +cattle. + +'Maciek,' she called, 'when the cow has had a drink, lead her to the +cowshed. The Soltys will stay the night; the cow can't be left out of +doors.' + +'Well, what next?' asked Slimak. + +'What has to be, has to be,' she replied. 'He wants the thirty-five +roubles and the silver rouble for the halter--but,' she continued after +a pause, 'truth is truth, she is worth it. I milked her, and though she +had been on the road, she gave more milk than Lysa.' + +'Have you asked him whether he won't come down a bit?' + +The peasant again felt the weariness in all his limbs. Good God! how +many hours of sleep would have to be sacrificed, before he could make +another thirty-five roubles! + +'Not likely! It's something that he will sell her to us at all; he +keeps on saying he promised her to Gryb.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'Come, Josef, be friendly and drink vodka with him, then perhaps the +Lord Jesus will give him reflection. But keep looking at me, and don't +talk too much; you will see, it will turn out all right.' + +Maciek led the cow to the shed; she looked about and whisked her tail +so heartily that Slimak could not take his eyes off her. + +'It's God's will,' he murmured. 'I'll bargain for her.' + +He crossed himself at the door, but his heart was trembling in +anticipation of all the difficulties. + +His guest was sitting by the fire and admonishing Magda in fatherly +fashion to be faithful and obedient to her master and mistress. + +'If they order you into the water--jump into the water; if they order +you into the fire--go into the fire; and if the mistress gives you a +good hiding, kiss her hand and thank her, for I tell you: sacred is the +hand that strikes....' + +As he said this the red light of the fire fell upon him; he had raised +his hand and looked like a preacher. + +Magda fancied that the trembling shadow on the wall was repeating: +'Sacred is the hand that strikes!' + +She wept copiously; she felt she was listening to a beautiful sermon, +but at the same time blue stripes seemed to be swelling on her back at +his words. Yet she listened without fear or regret, only with dim +gratitude, mingled with recollections of her childhood. + +The door opened and Slimak said: + +'The Lord be praised.' + +'In all eternity,' answered Grochowski. When he stood up, his head +nearly touched the ceiling. + +'May God repay you, Soltys, for coming to us,' said Slimak, shaking his +hand. + +'May God repay you for your kindness in receiving me.' + +'And say at once, should you be uncomfortable.' + +'Eh! I'm not half so comfortable at home, and it's not only to me but +also to the cow that you are giving hospitality.' + +'Praise God that you are satisfied.' + +'I am doubly satisfied, because I see how well you are treating Magda. +Magda! fall at your master's feet at once, for your father could not +treat you better. And you, neighbour, don't spare the strap.' + +'She's not a bad girl,' said Slimak. + +Sobbing heartily the girl fell first at her uncle's feet, then at the +gospodarz's, and then escaped into the passage. She hugged herself and +still emitted great sobs; but her eyes were dry. She began calling +softly in a mournful voice: 'Pig! pig! pig!' But the pigs had turned in +for the night. Instead Jendrek and Stasiek with the dog Burek emerged +from the twilight. Jendrek wanted to push her over, but she gave him a +punch in the eye. The boys seized her by the arms, Burek followed, and +shrieking and barking and inextricably entwined so that one could not +tell which was child and which was dog, all four melted into the mists +that were hanging over the meadows. + +Sitting by the stove, the two gospodarze were talking. + +'How is it you are getting rid of the cow?' + +'You see, it's like this. That cow is not mine, it belongs to Magda, +but my wife says she doesn't care about looking after somebody else's +cow, and the shed is too small for ours as it is. I don't pay much +attention to her usually, but it happens that there is a bit of land to +be sold adjoining Magda's. Komara, to whom it belonged, has drunk +himself to death. So I am thinking: I will sell the cow and buy the +girl another acre--land is land.' + +'That's true!' sighed Slimak. + +'And as there will be new servituty, the girl will get even more.' + +'How is that?' Slimak became interested. + +'They will give you twice as much as you possess; I possess twenty-five +acres, so I shall have fifty. How many have you got?' + +'Ten.' + +'Then you will have twenty, and Magda will get another two and a half +with her own.' + +'Is it certain about the servituty?' + +'Who can tell? some say it is, others laugh about it. But I am thinking +I will buy this land while there is the chance, especially as my wife +does not wish it.' + +'Then what is the good of buying the land if you will shortly get it +for nothing?' + +'The truth is, as it's not my money I don't care how I spend it. If I +were you I shouldn't be in a hurry to rent from the manor either; there +is no harm in waiting. The wise man is never in a hurry.' + +'No, the wise man goes slowly,' Slimak deliberated. + +The gospodyni appeared at that moment with Maciek. They went into the +alcove, drew two chairs and the cherrywood table into the middle of it, +covered it with a cloth and placed a petroleum lamp without a chimney +on it. + +'Come, Soltys,' called the gospodyni,' you will have supper more +comfortably in here.' + +Maciek, with a broad smile, retired awkwardly behind the stove as the +two gospodarze went into the alcove. + +'What a beautiful room,' said Grochowski, looking round, 'plenty of +holy pictures on the walls, a painted bed, a wooden floor and flowers +in the windows. That must be your doing, gospodyni?' + +'Why, yes,' said the woman, pleased, 'he is always at the manor or in +the town and doesn't care about his home; it was all I could do to make +him lay the floor. Be so kind as to sit near the stove, neighbour, I'll +get supper.' + +She poured out a large bowl of peeled barley soup and put it on the +table, and a small one for Maciek. + +'Eat in God's name, and if you want anything, say so.' + +'But are not you going to sit down?' + +'I always eat last with the children. Maciek, you may take your bowl.' + +Maciek, grinning, took his portion and sat down on a bench opposite the +alcove, so that he could see the Soltys and listen to human +intercourse, for which he was longing. He looked contentedly from +behind his steaming bowl at the table; the smoking lamp seemed to him +the most brilliant illumination, and the wooden chairs the height of +comfort. The sight of the Soltys, who was lolling back, filled him with +reverence. Was it not he who had driven him to the recruiting-office +when it was the time for the drawing of lots? who had ordered him to be +taken to the hospital and told him he would come out completely cured? +who collected the taxes and carried the largest banner at the +processions and intoned 'Let us praise the Holy Virgin'? And now he, +Maciek Owczarz, was sitting under one roof with this same Grochowski. + +How comfortable he made himself! Maciek tried to lean back in the same +fashion, but the scandalized wall pushed him forward, reminding him +that he was not the Soltys. So although his back ached, he bent still +lower and hid his feet in their torn boots under the bench. Why should +he be comfortable? It was enough if the master and the Soltys were. He +ate his soup and listened with both ears. + +'What makes you take the cow to Gryb?' asked the gospodyni. + +'Because he wants to buy her.' + +'We might buy her ourselves.' + +'Yes, that might be so,' put in Slimak; 'the girl is here, the cow +should be here too.' + +'That's right, isn't it, Maciek?' asked the woman. + +'Oho, ho!' laughed Maciek, till the soup ran out of his spoon. + +'What's true is true,' said Grochowski; 'even Gryb ought to understand +that the cow ought to be where the girl is.' + +'Then sell her to us,' Slimak said quickly. + +Grochowski dropped his spoon on the table and his head on his chest. He +reflected for a while, then he said in a tone of resignation: + +'There's no help for it; as you are quite, decided I must sell you the +cow.' + +'But you'll take off something for us, won't you?' hastily added the +woman in an ingratiating tone. + +The Soltys reflected once more. + +'You see, it's like this; if it were my cow I would come down. But she +belongs to a poor orphan. How could I harm her? Give me thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble and the cow will be yours.' + +'That's too much,' sighed Slimak. + +'But she is worth it!' said the Soltys. + +'Still, money sits in the chest and doesn't eat.' + +'Neither will it give milk.' + +'I should have to rent the field.' + +'That will be cheaper than buying fodder.' + +A long silence ensued, then Slimak said: + +'Well, neighbour, say your last word.' + +'I tell you, thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble. Gryb will +be angry, but I'll do this for you.' + +The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a +bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate. + +'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka. + +'Drink in God's name!' + +They emptied the glasses and began to chew the dry sausage in silence. +Maciek was so affected by the sight of the vodka that he folded his +hands on his stomach. It struck him that those two must be feeling very +happy, so he felt happy too. + +'I really don't know whether to buy the cow or not,' said Slimak; 'your +price has taken the wish from me.' + +Grochowski moved uneasily on his chair. + +'My dear friend,' he said, 'what am I to do? this is the orphan's +affair. I have got to buy her land, if for no other reason but because +it annoys my wife.' + +'You won't give thirty-five roubles for an acre.' + +'Land is getting dearer, because the Germans want to buy it.' + +'The Germans?' + +'Those who bought Wolka. They want other Germans to settle near here.' + +'There were two Germans near my field asking me a lot of questions. I +didn't know what they wanted.' + +'There you are! they creep in. Directly one has settled, others come +like ants after honey, and then the land gets dearer.' + +'Do they know anything about peasants' work?' + +'Rather! They make more profits than we who are born here. The Germans +are clever; they have a lot of cattle, sow clover and carry on a trade +in the winter. We can't compete with them.' + +'I wonder what their religion is like? They talk to each other like +Jews.' + +'Their religion is better than the Jews',' the Soltys said, after +reflecting; 'but what is not Catholic is nothing. They have churches +with benches and an organ; but their priests are married and go about +in overcoats, and where the blessed Host ought to be on the altar they +have a crucifix, like ours in the porch.' + +'That's not as good as our religion.' + +'Why!' said Grochowski, 'they don't even pray to the Blessed Mother.' + +The gospodyni crossed herself. + +'It's odd that the Merciful God should bless such people with +prosperity. Drink, neighbour!' + +'To your health! Why should God not bless them, when they have a lot of +cattle? That's at the bottom of all prosperity.' + +Slimak became pensive and suddenly struck his fist on the table. + +'Neighbour,' he cried, raising his voice, 'sell me the cow!' + +'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table. + +'I'll give you...thirty-one roubles...as I love you.' Grochowski +embraced him. + +'Brother...give me...thirty...and four paper roubles and a silver +rouble for the halter.' + +The tired children cautiously stole into the room; the gospodyni poured +out some soup for them and told them to sit in the corner and be quiet. +And quiet they were, except at one moment when Stasiek fell off the +bench and his mother slapped Jendrek for it. Maciek dozed, dreaming +that he was drinking vodka. He felt the liquor going to his head and +fancied himself sitting by the Soltys and embracing him. The fumes of +the vodka and the lamp were filling the room. Slimak and Grochowski +moved closer together. + +'Neighbour...Soltys,' said Slimak, striking the table again. 'I'll give +you whatever you wish, your word is worth more than money to me, for +you are the cleverest man in the parish. The Wojt is a pig...you are +more to me than the Wojt or even the Government Inspector, for you are +cleverer than they are...devil take me!' + +They fell on each other's shoulders and Grochowski wept. + +'Josef, brother,...don't call me Soltys but brother...for we are +brothers!' + +'Wojciek...Soltys...say how much you want for the cow. I'll give it +you, I'll rip myself open to give it you...thirty-five paper roubles +and a silver rouble.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' wailed the gospodyni. 'Weren't you letting the cow +go for thirty-three roubles just now, Soltys?' + +Grochowski raised his tearful eyes first to her, then to Slimak. + +'Was I?... Josef...brother...I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Take her! let the orphan starve, so long as you, my brother, +get a prime cow.' + +Slimate beat a tattoo on the table. + +'Am I to cheat the orphan? I won't; I'll give you thirty-five....' + +'What are you doing, you fool?' his wife interrupted him. + +'Yes, don't be foolish,' Grochowski supported her. 'You have +entertained me so finely that I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Amen! that's my last word.' + +'I won't!' shouted Slimak. 'Am I a Jew that I should be paid for +hospitality?' + +'Josef!' his wife said warningly. + +'Go away, woman!' he cried, getting up with difficulty; 'I'll teach you +to mix yourself up in my affairs.' + +He suddenly fell into the embrace of the weeping Grochowski. + +'Thirty-five....' + +'Thirty-three...' sobbed the Soltys; 'may I not burn in hell!' + +'Josef,' his wife said, 'you must respect your guest; he is older than +you, and he is Soltys. Maciek, help me to get them into the barn.' + +'I'll go by myself,' roared Slimak. + +'Thirty-three roubles...' groaned Grochowski, 'chop me to bits, but I +won't take a grosz more.... I am a Judas.... I wanted to cheat you. I +said I was taking the cow to Gryb...but I was bringing her to you...for +you are my brother....' + +They linked arms and made for the window. Maciek opened the door into +the passage, and after several false starts they reached the courtyard. +The gospodyni took a lantern, rug and pillow, and followed them. When +she reached the yard she saw Grochowski kneeling and rubbing his eyes +with his sukmana and Slimak lying on the manure heap. Maciek was +standing over them. + +'We must do something with them,' he said to the gospodyni; 'they've +drunk a whole bottle of vodka.' + +'Get up, you drunkard,' she cried, 'or I'll pour water over your head.' + +'I'll pour it over you, I'll give you a whipping presently!' her +husband shouted back at her. + +Grochowski fell on his neck. + +'Don't make a hell of your house, brother, or grief will come to us +both.' + +Maciek could not wonder enough at the changes wrought in men by vodka. +Here was the Soltys, known in the whole parish as a hard man, crying +like a child, and Slimak shouting like the bailiff and disobeying his +wife. + +'Come to the barn, Soltys,' said Slimakowa, taking him by one arm while +Maciek took the other. He followed like a lamb, but while she was +preparing his bed on the straw, he fell upon the threshing-floor and +could not be moved by any manner of means. + +'Go to bed, Maciek,' said the gospodyni; 'let that drunkard lie on the +manure-heap, because he has been so disagreeable.' + +Maciek obeyed and went to the stable. When all was quiet, he began for +his amusement to pretend that he was drunk, and acted the part of +Slimak or the Soltys in turns. He talked in a tearful voice like +Grochowski: 'Don't make a hell of your house, brother...' and in order +to make it more real he tried to make himself cry. At first he did not +succeed, but when he remembered his foot, and that he was the most +miserable creature, and the gospodyni hadn't even given him a glass of +vodka, the tears ran freely from his eyes, until he too went to sleep. + +About midnight Slimak awoke, cold and wet, for it had begun to rain. +Gradually his aching head remembered the Soltys, the cow, the barley +soup and the large bottle of vodka. What had become of the vodka? He +was not quite certain on this point, but he was quite sure that the +soup had disagreed with him. + +'I always say you should not eat hot barley soup at night,' he groaned. + +He was no longer in doubt whether or no he was lying on the +manure-heap. Slowly he walked up to the cottage and hesitated on the +doorstep; but the rain began to fall more heavily. He stood still in +the passage and listened to Magda's snoring; then he cautiously opened +the door of the room. + +Stasiek lay on the bench under the window, breathing deeply. There was +no sound from the alcove, and he realized that his wife was not asleep. + +'Jagna, make room...' he tried to steady his voice, but he was seized +with fear. + +There was no answer. + +'Come...move up....' + +'Be off with you, you tippler, and don't come near me.' + +'Where am I to go?' + +'To the manure-heap or the pigsty, that's your proper place. You +threatened me with the whip! I'll take it out of you!' + +'What's the use of talking like that, when nothing is wrong?' said +Slimak, holding his aching head. + +'Nothing wrong? You insisted on paying thirty-five paper roubles and a +silver rouble when Grochowski was letting the cow go for thirty-three +roubles. Nothing wrong, indeed! do three roubles mean nothing to you?' + +Slimak crept to the bench where Stasiek lay and touched his feet. + +'Is that you, daddy?' the boy asked, waking up. + +'Yes, it's I.' + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm just sitting down; something is worrying me inside.' + +The boy put his arms round his neck. + +'I'm so glad you have come,' he said; 'those two Germans keep coming +after me.' + +'What Germans?' + +'Those two by our field, the old one and the man with the beard. They +don't say what they want, but they are walking on me.' + +'Go to sleep, child; there are no Germans here.' + +Stasiek pressed closer to him and began to chatter again: + +'Isn't it true, daddy, that the water can see?' + +'What should it see?' + +'Everything--everything--the sky, the hills; it sees us when we follow +the harrows.' + +'Go to sleep. Don't talk nonsense.' + +'It does, it does, daddy, I've watched it myself,' he whispered, going +to sleep. + +The room was too hot for Slimak; he dragged himself up and staggered to +the barn, where he fell into a bundle of straw. + +'But what I gave for the cow I gave for her,' he muttered in the +direction of the sleeping Grochowski. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Slimakowa came to the barn early the next morning and called her +husband. 'Are you going to be long idling there?' + +'What's the matter?' + +'It's time to go to the manor-house.' + +'Have they sent for me?' + +'Why should they send for you? You have got to go to them and see about +the field.' + +Slimak groaned, but came out on to the threshing-floor. His face was +bloated, he looked ashamed of himself, and his hair was full of straw. + +'Just look at him,' jeered his wife: 'his sukmana is dirty and wet, he +hasn't taken off his boots all night, and he scowls like a brigand. You +are more fit for a scarecrow in a flaxfield than for talking to the +squire. Change your clothes and go.' + +She returned to the cowshed, and a weight fell off Slimak's mind that +the matter had ended there. He had expected to be jeered at till the +afternoon. He came out into the yard and looked round. The sun was +high, the ground had dried after the rain; the wind from the ravines +brought the song of birds and a damp, cheerful smell; the fields had +become green during the night. The sky looked as if it had been +freshened up, and the cottage seemed whiter. + +'A nice day,' he murmured, gaining courage, and went indoors to dress. +He pulled the straw out of his hair and put on a clean shirt and new +boots. He thought they did not look polished enough, so he took a piece +of tallow and rubbed it well first over his hair, then over his boots. +Then he stood in front of the glass and smiled contentedly at the +brilliance he rejected from head to foot. + +His wife came in at that moment and looked disdainfully at him. + +'What have you been doing to your head? You stink of tallow miles off. +You'd better comb your hair.' + +Slimak, silently acknowledging the justice of the remark, took a thick +comb from behind the looking-glass and smoothed his hair till it looked +like polished glass, then he applied the soap to his neck so +energetically that his fingers left large, dark streaks. + +'Where is Grochowski?' he asked in a more cheerful voice, for the cold +water had added to his good temper. + +'He has gone.' + +'What about the money?' + +'I paid him, but he wouldn't take the thirty-three roubles; he said +that Jesus Christ had lived in this world for thirty-three years, so it +would not be right for him to take as much as that for the cow.' + +'Very proper,' Slimak agreed, wishing to impress her with his +theological knowledge, but she turned to the stove and took off a pot +of hot barley soup. Offering it to him with an air of indifference: +'Don't talk so much,' she said. 'Put something hot inside you and go to +the manor-house. But just try and bargain as you did with the Soltys +and I shall have something to say to you.' + +He sat humbly, eating his soup, and his wife took some money from the +chest. 'Take these ten roubles,' she said, 'give them to the squire +himself and promise to bring the rest to-morrow. But mind what he asks +for the field, and kiss his hands, and embrace his and the lady's feet +so that he may let you off at least three roubles. Will you remember?' + +'Why shouldn't I remember?' + +He was obviously repeating his wife's admonitions, for he suddenly +stopped eating and tapped the table rhythmically with the spoon. + +'Well, then, don't sit there and think, but put on your sukmana and go. +And take the boys with you.' + +'What for?' + +'What for? They are to support you when you ask the squire, and Jendrek +will tell me how you have bargained. Now do you know what for?' + +'Women are a pest!' growled Slimak, when she had unfolded her carefully +laid plans. 'Curse her, how she lords it over me! You can see that her +father was a bailiff.' + +He struggled into his sukmana, which was brand new and beautifully +embroidered at the collar and pockets with coloured thread; put on a +broad leather belt, tied the ten roubles up in a rag and slipped them +into his sukmana. The children had long been ready, and at last they +started. + +They had no sooner gone than loneliness began to fill Slimakowa's +heart. She went outside the gate and watched them; her husband, with +his hands in his pockets, was strolling along the road, Jendrek on his +right and Stasiek on his left. Presently Jendrek boxed Stasiek's ears +and as a result he was walking on the left and Stasiek on the right. +Then Slimak boxed both their ears, after which they were both walking +on the left, Jendrek in the ditch, so that he could threaten his +brother with his fist. + +'Bless them, they always find some nice amusement for themselves,' she +whispered, smiling, and went back to put on the dinner. + +Having settled the misunderstanding between his sons, Slimak sang +softly to himself: + + 'Your love is no courtier, + my own heart's desire, + He's riding a pony on his way to the squire.' + +Then in a more melancholy strain: + + 'Oh dearie, dearie me + This is great misery, + What shall I do?...' + +He sighed, and felt that no song could adequately express his anxiety. +Would the squire let him have the field? They were just passing it; he +was almost afraid to look at it, so beautiful and unattainable did it +seem. All the fines he had had to pay for his cattle, all the squire's +threats and admonitions came into his mind. It struck him that if the +field lay farther off and produced sand instead of good grass, he would +have a better chance. + +'Eh, I don't care!' he cried, throwing up his head with an air of +indifference; 'they've often asked me to take it.' + +That was so, but it had been at times when he had not wanted it; now +that he did, they would bargain hard, or not let him have it at all. +Who could tell why that should be so? It was a law of nature that +landlords and peasants were always at cross purposes. + +He remembered how often he had charged too much for work done, or how +often the gospodarze had refused to come to terms with the squire about +rights of grazing or wood-gathering in the forests, and he felt +contrite. Good Lord! how beautifully the squire had spoken to them: +'Let us help each other and live peaceably like good neighbours.' + +And they had answered: 'What's the good of being neighbours? A nobleman +is a nobleman and a peasant is a peasant. We should prefer peasants for +neighbours and you would prefer noblemen.' Then the squire had cited: +'Remember, the runaway goat came back to the cart and said, "Put me +in." But I shall say you nay.' And Gryb, in the name of them all, had +answered: 'The goat will come, your honour, when you throw your forests +open.' + +The squire had said nothing, but his trembling moustaches had warned +them that he would not forget that answer. + +'I always told Gryb not to talk with a long tongue,' Slimak sighed. +'Now it is I who will have to suffer for his impudence.' + +A new idea came into his head. Why should he not pay for the field in +work instead of cash? The Squire might accept it, for he wasn't half a +bad gentleman. It was true, the other gospodarze looked down upon him, +because he was the only one who hired himself out for work; but +whatever happened, the squire would always be the squire, and they the +gospodarze. He hummed again, but under his breath, so that the boys +should not hear him: + + 'The cuckoo cuckooed in the forest, + Say the neighbours, I am the dullest.' + +Suddenly he turned upon Stasiek, and wanted to know why he was dragging +along as if he were being taken to jail, and didn't talk. + +'I...I am wondering why we are going to the manor?' + +'Don't you want to go?' + +'No; I am afraid.' + +'What is there to be afraid of?' snapped Slimak, but he himself was +shivering. + +'You see, my boy,' he continued, more kindly, 'we have bought the new +cow from the Soltys and we shall want more hay, so I am going to ask +the squire to let me rent the field.' + +'I see....But, daddy, I am always wondering what the grass thinks when +the cows chew it up.' + +'What should it think? It doesn't think at all.' + +'But, daddy, why shouldn't it think? When people are standing round the +church in a crowd, they look like grass from a distance, all red and +yellow, like flowers in a field. If some horrible cow came and lapped +them up with her tongue, wouldn't they be able to think?' + +'People would scream, but the grass says nothing.' + +'It does say something! A dry stick cracks when you tread on it, and a +fresh branch cries and clings to the tree when you tear it off, and the +grass squeaks and holds on with its feet,...and...' + +'Oh! you are always saying queer things,' interrupted his father; 'and +you, Jendrek, are you glad that we are going to the manor-house?' + +'Is it I who is going or you?' said Jendrek, shrugging his shoulders. +'I shouldn't go.' + +'Well, what would you do?' + +'I should take the hay and stack it in the yard; then let them come!' + +'You would dare to cut the squire's hay?' + +'How is it his? Has he sown the grass? or is the field near his house?' + +'Don't you see, silly, that the meadow is his just as well as his other +fields?' + +'They are his, so long as no one takes them. Our land and our house +were his once, now they are yours. Why should he be better off than we +are? He does nothing, yet he has enough land for a hundred peasants.' + +'He has it because he has it, because he is a gentleman.' + +'Pooh! If you wore a coat, and your trousers outside your boots, you +would be a gentleman; but for all that you wouldn't have the land.' + +'You are stupid,' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I know I am stupid, that is because I can't read or write, but Jasiek +Gryb can, and therefore he is clever, and he says there must be +equality, and there will be when the peasants have taken the land from +the nobility.' + +'Jasiek had better leave off taking money from his father's chest +before he disposes of other people's property! He might give mine to +Maciek and take the squire's for himself, but he would never give his +own away. Let it be as God has ordered.' + +'Did God give the land to the squire?' + +'God has ordered that there should not be equality in the world. A pine +is tall, a hazel is low, the grass is still lower. Look at sensible +dogs. When a pail of dish-water is brought out to them, the strongest +drinks first, and the others stand by and lick their lips, although +they know that he will take the best part; then they all take their +turn. If they start quarrelling, they upset the pail and the strong get +the better of the weak. + +If people were to say to each other: Disgorge what you have swallowed, +the strong would drive off the weak and leave them to starve.' + +'But if God has given the land to the squire, how can they begin to +distribute it to the people now?' + +'They distribute it so that every one should get what is right for him, +not that he should take what he likes.' + +His son's amazing views added a new worry to Slimak's mind. + +'The rascal! listening to people of that sort! he'll never make a +peasant; it's a mercy he hasn't stolen yet.' + +They were nearing the drive to the manor-house, and Slimak was walking +more and more slowly; Stasiek looked more and more frightened, Jendrek +alone kept his saucy air. + +Through the dark branches of old lime-trees the roof and chimneys of +the manor became visible. Suddenly two shots rang out. + +'They are shooting!' cried Jendrek excitedly, and ran forward. Stasiek +caught hold of his father's pocket. Slimak called Jendrek, who returned +sulkily. They were now on the terrace, where the manor-fields stretched +on either side. Lower down lay the village, still lower the field by +the river, in front of them was the manor, with the outbuildings, +enclosed by a railing. + +'There! that's the manor-house,' said Slimak to Stasiek. 'Isn't it +beautiful?' + +'Which one is it?' + +'Why! the one with pillars in front.' + +Another shot rang out, and they saw a man in fanciful sportsman's +dress. + +'The horseman of yesterday,' cried Jendrek. + +'Ah, that freak!' said Slimak, scrutinizing him with his head on one +side; 'he'll bring me bad luck about the field.' + +'He has a splendid gun,' cried Jendrek; 'but what is he shooting? +There's nothing but sparrows here.' + +'Perhaps he is shooting at us?' suggested Stasiek timidly. + +'Why should he be shooting at us?' his father reassured him; 'shooting +at people isn't allowed. It's true there is no knowing what a lunatic +might do.' + +The sportsman approached, loading his gun; the tattered remains of some +sparrows hung from his bag. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak, taking off his cap. + +'How do you do, citizen?' replied the sportsman, touching his jockey +cap. + +'What a lovely gun!' sighed Jendrek. + +'Do you like it? Eh, wasn't it you who picked up my cap the other day? +I am in your debt; here you are.' He handed Jendrek a twenty-kopek +piece. 'Is that your father? Citizen, if you want to be friends with +me, do not bow so low, and cover your head. It is time that these +survivals of servitude should be forgotten; they can only do us both +harm. Cover yourself, I beg you.' + +Slimak tried to do as he was told, but his hand refused obedience. + +'I feel awkward, sir, standing before you with my cap on,' he said. + +'Oh, hang hereditary social differences!' exclaimed the young man, +snatching the cap from Slimak's hands and putting it on his head. + +'Hang it all!' thought the peasant, unable to follow the democrat's +intentions. + +'What are you going to the manor for?' asked the latter. 'Have you come +on business with my brother-in-law?' + +'We want to beg a favour of the squire'--Slimak refrained with +difficulty from bowing again--'that he should let us rent the field +close to my property.' + +'What for?' + +'We've bought a new cow.' + +'How much cattle have you?' + +'The Lord Jesus possesses five tails in my gospodarstwo, two horses and +three cows, not counting the pigs.' + +'And have you much land?' + +'I wish to God I had, but I have only ten acres, and those are growing +more sterile every year.' + +'That's because you don't understand agriculture. Ten acres is a large +property; in other countries several families live comfortably on that; +here it is not enough for one. But what can you expect if you sow +nothing but rye?' + +'What else should I sow, sir? Wheat doesn't do very well.' + +'Vegetables, my friend, that does the trick! The market gardeners near +Warsaw pay thirty or forty roubles an acre rent and do excellently +well.' + +Slimak hung his head. He was much perturbed, for he had arrived at the +conclusion that the squire would not let him have the field, because he +had so much land already, or that he would ask him thirty or forty +roubles' rent. What other object could the young gentleman possibly +have for saying, such strange things? + +They were approaching the entrance to the garden. + +'I see my sister is in the garden; my brother-in-law is sure to be +about too. I will go and tell him of your business.' + +Slimak bowed low, but inwardly he thought: 'May the pestilence take +him! He is impertinent to my wife, stirs up the boy, and puts my cap on +my head; but he wants to squeeze money out of me, all the same. I knew +he would bring me bad luck.' + +Sounds of an American organ which the squire was playing came from the +house. + +'Daddy, daddy, they are playing!' cried Stasiek in great excitement; he +was flushed, and trembled with emotion, even Jendrek was affected. +Slimak took off his cap and said a prayer for deliverance from the evil +spell of the young gentleman. + +When the organ stopped, they watched this same young gentleman talking +to his sister in the garden. + +'Look at the lady, dad,' said Jendrek; 'she is just like a horsefly, +yellow with black spots, and thin in the waist and fat at the end.' + +The democrat was putting Slimak's case before his sister, and +complained of the signs of servility with which he met at every turn. +He said they spoilt his temper. + +'But what can I do?' said the lady. + +'Go up to them and give them courage.' + +'I like that!' she said. 'I arranged a treat for our farm-labourers' +children to encourage them, and next day they plundered my peach trees. +Go to them? I've done that too. I once went into a cottage where a +child was ill, and my clothes smelt so strongly that I had to give them +to my maid. No, thank you!' + +'All the same, I beg you to do something for these people.' + +Their conversation had been in French while they were approaching the +railings. + +'Oh, it's Slimak.' The lady raised her glasses. 'Well, my good man, my +brother wants me to do something for you. Have you got a daughter?' + +'I haven't, my lady,' said Slimak, kissing the hem of her dress. + +'That's a pity, I might have taught her to do beadwork. Perhaps I could +teach the boys to read?' + +'They are wanted at home, my lady; the elder one is useful already, and +the younger one looks after the pigs in the fields.' + +'Do something for them yourself,' she said to her brother in French. + +'What are they plotting against me?' thought Slimak. + +The squire now came out and joined the group. Slimak began bowing +again, Stasiek's eyes filled with tears, even Jendrek lost his +self-assurance. The conversation reverted into French, and the democrat +warmly supported Slimak's cause. + +'All right, I'll let him have the field,' said the squire; 'then there +will be an end to the trespassing; besides, he is the most honest man +in the village.' + +When Slimak's suspense had become so acute that he had thoughts of +returning home without having settled the business, the squire said: + +'So you want me to let you have the field by the river?' + +'If you will be so kind, sir.' + +'And if you will kindly take off three roubles,' + +Jendrek added quickly. Slimak's blood ran cold; the squire exchanged +glances with his wife. + +'What does that mean?' he asked. 'From what am I to take off three +roubles?' + +Involuntarily Slimak's hand reached for his belt, but he recollected +himself; he made up his mind in despair to tell the truth. + +'If you please, sir, don't take any notice of that puppy; my wife has +been at me for not bargaining well, and she told me to get you to take +three roubles off the rent, and now this young scoundrel puts me to +shame.' + +'Mother told me to look after you.' + +Slimak became absolutely tongue-tied, and the party on the other side +of the railing were convulsed with laughter. + +'Look,' said the squire in French, 'that is the peasant all over. He +won't allow you to speak a word to his wife, but he can't do anything +without her, and doesn't understand any business whatsoever without her +explanations.' + +'Lovely!' laughed his wife, 'now, if you did as I tell you, we should +have left this dull place long ago and gone to Warsaw.' + +'Don't make the peasant out to be an idiot,' remonstrated his +brother-in-law. + +'No need for me to do that; he _is_ an idiot. Our peasants are all +muscle and stomach; they leave reason and energy to their wives. Slimak +is one of the most intelligent, yet I will bet you anything that I can +immediately give you a proof of his being a donkey. Josef,' he said, +turning to Slimak, 'your wife told you to drive a good bargain?' + +'Certainly, sir, what is true is true.' + +'Do you know what Lukasiak pays me yearly?' + +'They say ten roubles.' + +'Then you ought to pay twenty roubles for the two acres.' + +'If you will be lenient, sir,' began Slimak. + +'... and let me off three roubles,' completed the squire. Slimak looked +confused. + +'Very good, I will let you off three roubles; you shall pay me +seventeen roubles yearly. Are you satisfied!' + +Slimak bowed to the ground and thought: 'What is he up to? He is not +bargaining!' + +'Now, Slimak,' continued the squire, 'I will make you another proposal. +Do you know what Gryb paid me for the two acres he bought?' + +'Seventy roubles.' + +'Just so, and he paid for the surveyor and the lawyer. I will sell you +those two acres for sixty roubles and let you off all expenses, so you +would gain a clear twenty roubles against Gryb's bargain, But I make +one condition, you must decide at once and without consulting your +wife; to-morrow my conditions wouldn't be the same.' + +Slimak's eyes blazed; he fancied he saw quite clearly now that there +was a conspiracy against him. + +'That's not a handsome thing to offer, sir,' he said, with a forced +smile; 'you yourself consult with the lady and the young gentleman.' +'There you are! Isn't he a finished idiot?' + +His brother-in-law tapped Slimak on the shoulder. 'Agree to it, my +friend; you'll have the best of the bargain. Of course he agrees,' he +said, turning to the squire. + +'Well, Josef, will you buy it? Do you agree to my conditions?' + +'I'm not such a fool,' thought Slimak, and aloud: 'It wouldn't be fair +to buy it without my wife.' + +'Very well, I'll let it to you. Give me your earnest-money and come for +the receipt to-morrow. There you have the peasant, my democrat!' + +Slimak paid the ten roubles and glared at the retreating party. + +'Ah! you'd like to cheat a peasant, but he has got too much sense! It's +true, then, what Grochowski said about the land-distribution. Sixty +roubles for a field worth seventy, indeed!' + +All the same he could not quite get rid of the thought that it might +have been a straightforward offer. He felt hot all over and wanted to +shout or run after the squire. At that moment the young man hastily +turned back. + +'Buy that field,' he said, quite out of breath; 'my brother-in-law +would still consent if you asked him.' + +In an instant Slimak's distrust returned. + +'No, sir; it wouldn't be fair.' + +'Cattle!' murmured the democrat, and turned his back. The bargain had +disappeared. + +'Let's go home, boys,' and under his breath: 'Damn the aristocracy!' +When they were nearing their home, the boys ran on ahead, for they were +hungry. + +'What is this Jendrek tells me? They wanted to sell you the land for +sixty roubles?' + +'That is so,' he replied, rather frightened; 'they are afraid of the +new land-distributions. They are clever too! They knew all about my +business beforehand, and the squire had set his brother-in-law on to +me.' + +'What! that fellow who spoke to me by the river?' + +'That same fool. He gave Jendrek twenty kopeks and put my cap on my +head, and he told me ten acres was a fortune.' + +'A fortune? His brother-in-law has a thousand and says he hasn't +enough! You did quite right not to buy the field; there is something +shady about that business.' + +But his wife's satisfaction did not completely reassure Slimak; he was +wretchedly in doubt. His dinner gave him no pleasure, and he strolled +about the house without knowing what to do. When his irritation had +reached its climax, a happy thought struck him. + +'Come here, Jendrek,' he said, unbuckling his belt. + +'Oh, daddy, don't,' wailed the boy, although he had been prepared for +the last two hours. + +'You won't escape it this time; lie down on the bench. You've been +laughing at the young gentleman and even making fun of the squire.' + +Stasiek, in tears, embraced his father's knees, Magda ran out of the +room, Jendrek howled. + +'I tell you, lie down! I'll teach you to run about with that scoundrel +of a Jasiek!' + +At that moment Slimakowa tapped at the window. 'Josef, come quick, +something has happened to the new cow, she's staggering.' + +Slimak let go of Jendrek and ran to the cowshed. The three cows were +standing quietly chewing the cud. + +'It has passed off,' said the woman; 'but I tell you a minute ago she +was staggering worse than you did yesterday.' + +He examined the cow carefully, but could find nothing wrong with her. + +Jendrek had meanwhile slipped away, his father's temper had cooled, and +the matter ended as usual on these occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was the height of summer. The squire and his wife had gone away, and +the villagers had forgotten all about them. New wool had begun to grow +on the shorn sheep. + +The sun was so hot that the clouds fled from the sky into the woods, +and the ground protected itself with what it could find; with dust on +the highroads, grass in the meadows, and heavy crops in the fields. + +But human beings had to toil their hardest at this time. At the manor +they were cutting clover and hoeing turnips; in the cottages the women +were piling up the potatoes, while the old women were gathering mallows +for cooling drinks and lime-blossoms against the ague. The priest spent +all his days tracking and taking swarms of bees; Josel, the innkeeper, +was making vinegar. The woods resounded with the voices of children +picking berries. + +The corn was getting ripe, and Slimak began to cut the rye the day +after the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was in a hurry to +get the work done in two or three days, lest the corn should drop out +in the great heat, and also because he wanted to help with the +harvesting at the manor. + +Usually he, Maciek, and Jendrek worked together, alternately cutting +and binding the sheaves. Slimakowa and Magda helped in the early +morning and in the afternoon. + +On the first day, while the five were working together, and had reached +the top of the hill, Magda noticed some men showing against the dark +background of the wood, and drew Slimakowa's attention to them. They +all stopped work and looked. + +'They must be peasants,' Maciek said; 'they are wearing white smocks.' + +'They do not walk like peasants,' said Slimakowa. + +'But they are wearing boots up to their knees,' said Slimak. + +'Look! they are carrying poles,' Jendrek cried; 'and they are dragging +a rope after them.' + +'Ah, they must be surveyors. What can they be after?' reflected Slimak. + +'Surely, they are taking a fresh survey; now, Josef, aren't you glad +you did not buy that land?' asked his wife. They took up their work +again, but did not get on very fast, for they could not resist throwing +sidelong glances at the approaching men. It was now quite plain that +they were not peasants, for they wore white coats and had black ribbons +on their hats. Slimak's attention became so absorbed that he lagged +behind, in the place which Magda usually occupied, instead of being at +the head of the party. At last he cried: + +'Jendrek, stop cutting; run and find out what they are doing, and if +they are really measuring for a new land-distribution.' + +Jendrek was off in a moment, and had soon reached the men. He forgot to +come back. The little party watched him talk to the men for a few +moments, and then becoming busy with the poles. + +'I say!' cried Slimakowa, 'he is quite one of the party! Just look, how +he is running along with the line, as if he had never done anything +else in his life. He has never seen a book except in the Jew's shop +window, and yet he can run better than any of them. I wish I had told +him to put on his boots; they will never take him for the son of a +gospodarz.' + +She watched Jendrek with great pride until the party disappeared behind +the line of the hill. + +'Something will come of this,' said Slimak, 'either good or bad.' + +'Why should it be bad?' asked his wife; 'they may add to our land; what +do you think, Maciek?' + +The farm labourer looked embarrassed when he was asked for his opinion, +and pondered until the perspiration flowed from his head. + +'Why should it be good?' he said at last. 'When I was working for the +squire at Krzeszowie, and he went bankrupt, just such men as these came +and measured the land, and soon afterwards we had to pay a new tax. No +good ever comes of anything new.' + +Jendrek returned towards sunset, quite out of breath. He called out to +his mother that the gentlemen wanted some milk, and had given him +twenty kopeks. + +'Give them to your mother at once,' said Slimak; 'they are not for you, +but for the milk.' + +Jendrek was almost in tears. 'Why should I give up my money? They say +they will pay for everything they have, and even want to buy butter and +fowls.' + +'Are they traders?' + +'Oh no, they are great gentlemen, and live in a tent and keep a cook.' + +'Gipsies, I dare say!' + +Slimakowa had run off at top speed, and now the men appeared, +perspiring, sunburnt, and dusty; nevertheless, they impressed Slimak +and Maciek so much with their grand manner that they took off their +caps. + +'Which of you is the gospodarz?' + +'I am.' + +'How long have you lived here?' + +'From my childhood.' + +'And have you ever seen the river in flood?' + +'I should think I had!' + +'Do you remember how high the water rises?' + +'Sometimes it overflows on to that meadow deep enough to drown a man.' + +'Are you quite sure of that?' + +'Everybody knows that. Those gaps in the hill have been scooped out by +the water.' + +'The bridge will have to be sixty feet high.' + +'Certainly,' said the elder of the two men. 'Can you let us have some +milk, gospodarz?' + +'My wife is getting it ready, if it pleases the gentlemen to come.' + +The whole party turned towards the cottage, for the drinking of milk by +such distinguished gentlemen was an important event; it was decided to +stop harvesting for the day. + +Chairs and the cherrywood table had been placed in front of the +cottage. A rye loaf, butter, white cheese with caraway seeds, and a +bowl of buttermilk were in readiness. + +'Well,' said the men, looking at each other in surprise, 'a nobleman +could not have received us better.' + +They ate heartily, praised everything, and finally asked Slimakowa what +they owed her. + +'May it be to the gentlemen's health!' + +'But we cannot fleece you like this, gospodyni.' + +'We don't take money for hospitality. Besides, you have already given +my boy as much as if he had been harvesting a whole day.' + +'There!' whispered the younger man to the elder, 'isn't that like +Polish peasants?' + +To Slimak they said: 'After such a reception we will promise to build +the station quite near to you.' + +'I don't know what you mean?' + +'We are going to build a railway.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'What makes you so doubtful?' asked the men. + +'I'm thinking that this will turn out badly for us,' Slimak replied; 'I +shan't earn anything by driving.' + +The men laughed. 'Don't be afraid, my friend, it will be a very good +thing for everybody, especially for you, as you will be near the +station. And first of all you will sell us your produce and drive us. +Let us begin at once, what do you want for your fowls?' + +'I leave it to you, sir.' + +'Twenty-five kopeks, then.' + +Slimakowa looked at her husband. This was double the amount they had +usually taken. 'You can have them, sir,' she cried. + +'That scoundrel of a Jew charged us fifty,' murmured the younger man. + +They agreed to buy butter, cheese, crayfish, cucumber, and bread; the +younger man expressing surprise at the cheapness of everything, and the +elder boasting that he always knew how to drive a good bargain. When +they left, they paid Slimakowa sixteen paper roubles and half a silver +rouble, asking her if she was sure that she was not cheating herself. + +'God forbid,' she replied. 'I wish I could sell every day at that +price.' + +'You will, when we have built the railway.' + +'May God bless you!' She made the sign of the cross over them, the farm +labourer knelt down, and Slimak took off his cap. They all accompanied +their guests as far as the ravines. + +When they returned, Slimak set everyone to work in feverish haste. + +'Jagna, get the butter ready; Maciek and Jendrek, go to the river for +the crayfish; Magda, take three score of the finest cucumbers, and +throw in an extra ten. Jesus Mary! Have we ever done business like +this! You will have to buy yourself a new silk kerchief, and a new +shirt for Jendrek.' + +'Our luck has come,' said Slimakowa, 'and I must certainly buy a silk +kerchief, or else no one in the village will believe that we have made +so much money.' + +'I don't quite like it that the new carriages will go without horses,' +said Slimak; 'but that can't be helped.' + +When they took their produce to the engineers' encampment, they +received fresh orders, for there were more than a dozen men, who made +him their general purveyor. Slimak went round to the neighbouring +cottages and bought what he needed, making a penny profit on every +penny he spent, while his customers praised the cheapness of the +produce. After a week the party moved further off, and Slimak found +himself in possession of twenty-five roubles that seemed to have fallen +from the sky, not counting what he had earned for the hire of his +horses and cart, and payment for the days of labour he had lost. But +somehow the money made him feel ashamed. + +'Do you know, Jagna,' he said, 'perhaps we ought to go after the +gentlemen and give them back their money.' + +'Oh nonsense!' cried the woman, 'trading is always like that. What did +the Jew charge for the chickens? just double your price.' + +'But it is the Jew's trade, and besides, he isn't a Christian.' + +'Therefore he makes the greater profits. Come, Josef, the gentlemen did +not pay for the things only, but for the trouble you took.' + +This, and the thought that everybody who came from Warsaw obviously had +much money to spend, reassured the peasant. + +As he and the rest of the family were so much occupied with their new +duties, all the harvesting fell to Maciek's share. He had to go to the +hill from early dawn till late at night, and cut, bind, and shock the +sheaves single-handed. But in spite of his industry the work took +longer than usual, and Slimak hired old Sobieska to help him. She came +at six o'clock, armed with a bottle of 'remedy' for a wound in the leg, +did the work of two while she sang songs which made even Maciek blush, +until the afternoon, and then took her 'remedy'. The cure then pulled +her down so much that the scythe fell from her hand. + +'Hey, gospodarz!' she would shout. 'You are raking in the money and +buying your wife silk handkerchiefs, but the poor farm labourers have +to creep on all fours. It's "Cut the corn, Sobieska and Maciek, and I +will brag about like a gentleman!" You will see, he will soon call +himself "Pan Slimaczinski."[1] He is the devil's own son, for ever and +ever. Amen.' + +[Footnote 1: The ending _ski_ denotes nobility.] + +She would fall into a furrow and sleep until sundown, though she was +paid for a full day's work. As she had a sharp tongue, Slimak had no +wish to offend her. When he haggled about the money, she would kiss his +hand and say: 'Why should you fall out with me, sir? Sell one chicken +more and you'll be all right.' + +'Cheek always pays!' thought Maciek. + +On the following Sunday, when everyone was ready to go to church, +Maciek sat down and sighed heavily. + +'Why, Maciek, aren't you going to church?' asked Slimak, seeing that +something was amiss. + +'How can I go to church? You would be ashamed of me.' + +'What's the matter with you?' + +'Nothing is the matter with me, but my feet keep coming through my +boots.' + +'That's your own fault, why didn't you speak before? Your wages are +due, and I will give you six roubles.' + +Maciek embraced his feet.... + +'But mind you buy the boots, and don't drink away the money.' + +They all started; Slimak walked with his wife, Magda with the boys, and +Maciek by himself at a little distance. He dreamt that Slimak would +become a gentleman when the railway was finished, and that he, Maciek, +would then wait at table, and perhaps get married. Then he crossed +himself for having such reckless ideas. How could a poor fellow like +him think of marrying? Who would have him? Probably not even Zoska, +although she was wrong in the head and had a child. + +This was a memorable Sunday for Slimak and his wife. She had bought a +silk kerchief at a stall, given twenty kopeks to the beggars, and sat +down in the front pew, where Grybina and Lukasiakowa had at once made +room for her. As for Slimak, everyone had something to say to him. The +publican reproached him for spoiling the prices for the Jews, the +organist reminded him that it would be well to pay for an extra Mass +for the souls of the departed, even the policeman saluted him, and the +priest urged him to keep bees: 'You might come round to the Vicarage, +now that you have money and spare time, and perhaps buy a few hives. It +does no harm to remember God in one's prosperity and keep bees and give +wax to the Church.' + +Gryb came up with an unpleasant smile. 'Surely, Slimak, you will treat +everybody all round to-day, since you've been so successful?' + +'You don't treat the village when you have made a good bargain, neither +shall I,' Slimak snubbed him. + +'That's not surprising, since I don't make as much profit on a cow as +you make on a chicken.' + +'All the same, you're richer than other people.' + +'There you're right,' Wisniewski supported Slimak, asking him for the +loan of a couple of roubles at the same time. But when Slimak refused, +he complained of his arrogance. + +Maciek did not get much comfort out of the money given him for boots. +He stood humbly at the back of the church, so that the Lord should not +see his torn sukmana. Then the beggars reminded him that he never gave +them anything. He went to the public-house to get change. + +'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican. + +'What money?' + +'Have you forgotten? You owe me two roubles since Christmas' + +Maciek swore at him. 'Everybody knows that one can only get a drink +from you for cash.' + +'That's true on the whole. But when you were tipsy at Christmas, you +embraced and kissed me so many times, I couldn't help myself and gave +you credit.' + +'Have you got witnesses?' Maciek said sharply. 'I tell you, old Jew, +you won't take me in.' + +The publican reflected for a moment. + +'I have no witnesses,' he said, 'therefore I will never mention the +matter to you again. Since you swear to me here in the presence of +other people, that you did not kiss me and beg for credit, I make you a +present of your debt, but it's a shame,' the publican added, spitting, +'that a man working for such a respectable gospodarz as Slimak, should +cheat a poor Jew. Don't ever set foot in my inn again!' + +The labourer hesitated. Did he really owe that money? + +'Well,' he said, 'since you say I owe you the money, I will give it +you. But take care God does not punish you if you are wronging me.' In +his heart, however, he doubted whether God would ever punish any one on +account of such a low creature as he was. + +He was just leaving the inn sadly, when a band of Galician harvesters +came in. They sat down at the table, discussing the profits that would +be made from the building of the new railway. + +Maciek went up to them, and seeing that their appearance was not much +less ragged than his own, he asked if it was true that there were +railroads[1] in the world? 'No one,' he said,'would have iron enough to +cover roads, not even the government.' The labourers laughed, but one, +a huge fellow with a soldier's cap, said: 'What is there to laugh at? +Of course a clodhopper does not know what a railway is. Sit down, +brother, and I'll tell you all about it, but let's have a bottle of +vodka.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish word for 'railway' is 'iron road'.] + +Before Maciek had decided, the publican had brought the vodka. + +'Why shouldn't he have vodka?' he said, 'he is a good-natured fellow, +he has stood treat before.' + +What happened afterwards, Maciek did not clearly remember. He thought +that some one told him how fast an engine goes, and that some one else +shouted, he ought to buy boots. Later on he was seized by his arms and +legs and carried to the stable. One thing was certain, he returned +without a penny. Slimakowa would not look at him, and Slimak said: 'You +are hopeless, Maciek, you'll never get on, for the devil always leads +you into bad company.' + +So it happened that Maciek went without new boots, but a few weeks +later he acquired a possession he had never dreamt of. + +It was a rainy September evening; the more the day declined, the +heavier became the layers of clouds. Lower and lower they descended, +torn and gloomy. Forest, hill, and valley, even the fence dissolved +gradually into the grey veil. The heavy, persistent rain penetrated +everything; the ground was full of it, soaked through like kneaded +dough; the road was full of it, running with yellow streams; the yard, +where it stood in large puddles, was full of it. Roofs and walls were +dripping, the animals' skins and even human souls were saturated with +it. + +Everybody in the gospodarstwo was thinking vaguely of supper, but no +one was in the mood for it. The gospodarz yawned, the gospodyni was +cross, the boys were sleepy, Magda did even less than usual. They +looked at the fire, where the potatoes were slowly boiling, at the +door, to watch Maciek come in, or at the window, where the raindrops +splashed, falling from the higher, the lower, and the lowest clouds, +from the thatch, from the fading leaves of the trees, and from the +window frames. When all these splashes mingled into one, they sounded +like approaching footfalls. Then the cottage door creaked. 'Maciek,' +muttered the gospodarz. But Maciek did not appear. + +A hand was groping along the passage wall. + +'What's the matter with him, has he gone blind?' impatiently exclaimed +the gospodyni, and opened the door. + +Something which was not Maciek was standing in the passage, a shapeless +figure, not tall, but bulky. It was wrapped in a soaking wet shawl. +Slimakowa stepped back for a moment, but when the firelight fell into +the passage, she discerned a human face in the opening of the shawl, +copper-coloured, with a broad nose and slanting eyes that were hardly +visible under the swollen eyelids. + +'The Lord be praised,' said a hoarse voice. + +'You, Zoska?' asked the astonished gospodyni. + +'It is I.' + +'Come in quickly, you are letting all the damp into the room.' + +The new-comer stepped forward, but stood still, irresolutely. She held +a child in her arms whose face was as white as chalk, with blue lips; +she drew out one of its arms; it looked like a stick. + +'What are you doing out in weather like this?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm going after a place.' She looked round, and decided to crouch down +on the floor, near the wall. 'They say in the village that you have a +lot of money now; I thought you might want a girl.' + +'We don't want a girl, there is not even enough for Magda to do. Why +are you out of a place?' + +'I've been harvesting in the summer, but now no one will take me in +with the child. If I were alone I could get along.' + +Maciek came in, and not being aware of Zoska's presence, started on +seeing a crouching form on the floor. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I thought Slimak might take me on, but he doesn't want me with the +child.' + +'Oh Lord!' sighed the man, moved by the sight of poverty greater than +his own. + +'Why, Maciek, that sounds as if you had a bad conscience,' said the +gospodyni disagreeably. + +'It makes one feel bad, to see such wretchedness,' he murmured. + +'The man whose fault it is would feel it most!' + +'It isn't my fault, but I'm sorry for them all the same.' + +'Why don't you take the child, then, if you are so sorry?' sneered +Slimakowa, 'you'll give him the child, Zoska, won't you? Is it a boy?' + +'A girl,' whispered Zoska, with her eyes fixed on Maciek, 'she is two +years old... yes, he can have her, if he likes.' + +'She'd be a deal of trouble to me,' muttered the labourer, 'all the +same, it's a pity.' + +'Take her,' repeated Zoska, 'Slimak is rich, you are rich....' + +'Oh yes, Maciek is rich,' laughed Slimakowa, 'he drinks through six +roubles in one Sunday.' + +'If you can drink through six roubles, you can take her,' Zoska cried +vehemently, pulling the child out of the shawl and laying it on the +floor. It looked frightened, but did not utter a sound. + +'Shut up, Jagna, and don't talk nonsense,' said Slimak. Zoska stood up +and stretched herself. + +'Now I shall be easy for once,' she said, 'I've often thought I'd like +to throw her away into a ditch, but you may as well have her. Mind you +look after her properly! If I come back and don't find her, I'll +scratch out your eyes.' + +'You are crazy,' said Slimak, 'cross yourself.' + +'I won't cross myself, I'll go away....' + +'Don't be a fool, and sit down to supper,' angrily cried the gospodyni. +She took the saucepan off so impetuously, that the hot ashes flew all +over the stove, and one touched Zoska's bare feet. + +'Fire!... fire!' she shouted, and escaped from the room, 'the cottage +is on fire, everything is on fire!' + +She staggered out like a drunken person, and they could hear her voice +farther and farther off, shouting 'Fire!' until the rain drowned it. + +'Run, Maciek, and bring her back,' cried Slimakowa. But Maciek did not +stir. + +'You can't send a man after a mad woman on a night like this,' said +Slimak. + +'Well, what am I to do with this dog's child? Do you think I shall feed +her?' + +'I dare say you won't throw her over the fence. You needn't worry, +Zoska will come back for her.' + +'I don't want her here for the night.' + +'Then what are you going to do with her?' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I'll take her to the stable,' Maciek said in a low voice, lifting the +child up awkwardly. He sat down on the bench with it and rocked it +gently on his knees. There was silence in the room. Presently Magda, +Jendrek, and Stasiek emerged from their corner and stood by Maciek, +looking at the little creature. + +'She is as thin as a lath,' whispered Magda. + +'She doesn't move or look at us,' remarked Jendrek. + +'You must feed her from a rag,' advised Magda, 'I will find you a clean +one.' + +'Sit down to supper,' ordered Slimakowa, but her voice sounded less +angry. She looked at the child, first from a distance, then she bent +over it and touched its drawn yellow skin. + +'That bitch of a mother!' she murmured, 'Magda, put a little milk in a +saucer, and you, Maciek, sit down to supper.' + +'Let Magda sit down, I'll feed her myself.' + +'Feed her!' cried Magda, 'he doesn't even know how to hold her.' She +tried to take the child from him. + +'Don't pull her to pieces,' said the gospodyni, 'pour out the milk and +let Maciek feed her, if he is so keen on it.' + +The way in which Maciek performed his task elicited much advice from +Magda. 'He has poured the milk all over her mouth...it's running on to +the floor...why do you stick the rag into her nose?' + +Although he felt that he was making a bad nurse, Maciek would not let +the child out of his hands. He hastily ate a little soup, left the +rest, and went to his night-quarters in the stable, sheltering the +child under his sukmana. When he entered, one of the horses neighed, +and the other turned his head and sniffed at the child in the darkness. + +'That's right, greet the new stable-boy who can't even hold a whip,' +laughed Maciek. + +The rain continued to fall. When Slimak looked out later on, the stable +door was shut, and he fancied he could hear Maciek snoring. + +He returned into the room. + +'Are they all right in there?' asked his wife. + +'They are asleep,' he replied, and bolted the door. + +The cocks had crowed midnight, the dog had barked his answer and +squeezed under the cart for shelter, everybody was asleep. Then the +stable door creaked, and a shadow stole out, moved along the walls and +disappeared into the cowshed. It was Maciek. He drew the whimpering +child from under his sukmana and put its mouth to the cow's udder. + +'Suck, little one,' he whispered, 'suck the cow, because your mother +has left you.' + +A few moments later smacking sounds were heard. + +And the rain continued to drip...drip...drip, monotonously. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The announcement that the railway was to be built in the spring caused +a great stir in the village. The strangers who went about buying land +from the peasants were the sole topic of conversation at the +spinning-wheels on winter evenings. One poor peasant had sold his +barren gravel hill, and had been able to purchase ten acres of the best +land with the proceeds. + +The squire and his wife had returned in December, and it was rumoured +that they were going to sell the property. The squire was playing the +American organ all day long, as usual, and only laughed when the people +timidly asked him whether there was any truth in the report. It was the +lady who had told her maid in the evening how gay the life in Warsaw +would be; an hour later the bailiff's clerk, who was the maid's +sweetheart, knew of it; early the next morning the clerk repeated it to +the bailiff and to the foreman as a great secret, and by the afternoon +all the employees and labourers were discussing the great secret. In +the evening it had reached the inn, and then rapidly spread into the +cottages and to the small town. + +The power of the little word 'Sale' was truly marvellous. + +It made the farm labourers careless in their work and the bailiff give +notice at New Year; it made the mute hard-working animals grow lean, +the sheaves disappear from the barn and the corn from the granary; it +made off with the reserve cart-wheels and harnesses, pulled the +padlocks off the buildings, took planks out of the fences, and on dark +nights it swallowed up now a chicken, now even a sheep or a small pig, +and sent the servants to the public-house every night. + +A great, a sonorous word! It sounded far and wide, and from the little +town came the trades people, presenting their bills. It was written on +the face of every man, in the sad eyes of the neglected beasts, on all +the doors and on the broken window-panes, plastered up with paper. +There were only two people who pretended not to hear it, the gentleman +who played the American organ and the lady who dreamt of going to +Warsaw. When the neighbours asked them, he shrugged his shoulders, and +she sighed and said: 'We should like to sell, it's dull living in the +country, but my father in Warsaw has not yet had an offer.' + +Slimak, who often went to work at the manor, had also heard the rumour, +but he did not believe it. When he met the squire he would look at him +and think: 'He can't help being as he is, but if such a misfortune +should befall him, I should be grieved for him. They have been settled +at the manor from father to son; half the churchyard is full of them, +they have all grown up here. Even a stone would fret if it were moved +from such a place, let alone a man. Surely, he can't be bankrupt like +other noblemen? It's well known that he has money.' + +The peasant judged his squire by himself. He did not know what it meant +to have a young wife who was bored in the country. + +While Slimak put his trust in the squire's unruffled manner, +cogitations were going on at the inn under the guidance of Josel, the +publican. + +One morning, half-way through January, old Sobieska burst into the +cottage. Although the winter sun had not yet begun to look round the +world, the old woman was flushed, and her eyes looked bloodshot. Her +lean chest was insufficiently covered by a sheepskin as old as herself +and a torn chemise. + +'Here!...give me some vodka and I'll give you a little bit of news,' +she called out. Slimak was just going off to thresh, but he sat down +again and asked his wife to bring the vodka, for he knew that the old +woman usually knew what she was talking about. + +She drank a large glassful, stamped her foot, gurgled 'Oo-ah!', wiped +her mouth and said: 'I say! the squire is going to sell everything.' + +The thought of his field crossed Slimak's mind and made his blood run +cold, but he answered calmly: 'Gossip!' + +'Gossip?' the old woman hiccoughed, 'I tell you, it's gospel truth, and +I'll tell you more: the richer gospodarze are settling with Josel and +Gryb to buy the whole estate and the whole village from the squire, so +help me God!' + +'How can they settle that without me?' + +'Because they want to keep you out. They say you will be better off as +it is, because you will be nearer to the station, and that you have +already made a lot of money by spoiling other people's business.' + +She drained another glass and would have said more, but was suddenly +overcome, and had to be carried out of the room by Slimak. + +He and his wife consulted for the rest of the day what would be the +best thing to do under the circumstances. Towards evening he put on his +new sukmana lined with sheepskin and went to the inn. + +Gryb and Lukasiak were sitting at the table. By the light of the two +tallow candles they looked like two huge boundary-stones in their grey +clothes. Josel stood behind the bar in a dirty jersey with black +stripes. He had a sharp nose, pointed beard, pointed curls, and wore a +peaked cap; there was something pointed also in his look. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak. + +'In Eternity,' Josel answered indifferently. + +'What are the gospodarze drinking?' + +'Tea,' the innkeeper replied. + +'Then I will have tea too, but let it be as black as pitch, and with +plenty of arrac.' + +'Have you come to drink tea with us?' Josel taunted him. + +'No,' said Slimak, slowly sitting down, 'I've come to find out....' + +'What old Sobieska meant,' finished the innkeeper in an undertone. + +'How about this business? is it true that you are buying land from the +squire?' asked Slimak. + +The two gospodarze exchanged glances with Josel, who smiled. After a +pause Lukasiak replied: + +'Oh, we are talking of it for want of something better to do, but who +would have the money for such a big undertaking?' + +'You two between you could buy it!' + +'Perhaps we may, but it would be for ourselves and those living in the +village.' + +'What about me?' + +'You don't take us into your confidence about your business affairs, so +mind you keep out of ours.' + +'It's not only your affair, but concerns the whole village.' + +'No, it's nobody's but mine,' snapped Gryb. + +'It's mine just as much.' + +'That is not so!' Gryb struck the table with his fist: if I don't like +a man, he shan't buy, and there's an end of it.' + +The publican smiled. Seeing that Slimak was getting pale with anger, +Lukasiak took Gryb by the arm. + +'Let us go home, neighbour,' he said. 'What is the good of talking +about things that may never come off? Come along.' + +Gryb looked at Josel and got up. + +'So you are going to buy without me?' asked Slimak. + +'You bought without us last summer.' They shook hands with the +innkeeper and took no notice of Slimak. + +Josel looked after them until their footsteps could no longer be heard, +then, still smiling, he turned to Slimak. + +'Do you see now, gospodarz, that it is a bad thing to take the bread +out of a Jew's mouth? I have lost fifty roubles through you and you +have made twenty-five, but you have bought a hundred roubles' worth of +trouble, for the whole village is against you.' + +'They really mean to buy the squire's land without me?' + +'Why shouldn't they? What do they care about your loss if they can +gain?' + +'Well...well,' muttered the peasant sadly. + +'I,' said Josel, 'might perhaps be able to arrange the affair for you, +but what should I gain by it? You have never been well disposed towards +me, and you have already done me harm.' + +'So you won't arrange it?' + +'I might, but on my own terms.' + +'What are they?' + +'First of all you will give me back the fifty roubles. Secondly, you +will build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He will keep horses and drive people to and from the station.' + +'And what am I to do with my horses?' + +'You have your land.' + +The gospodarz got up. 'Aren't you going to give me any tea?' + +'I haven't any in the house.' + +'Very well; I won't pay you fifty roubles, and I won't build a cottage +for your brother-in-law.' + +'Do as you please.' Slimak left the inn, banging the door. + +Josel turned his pointed nose and beard in his direction and smiled. + +In the darkness Slimak collided with a labourer from the manor who +carried a sack of corn on his back; presently he saw one of the servant +girls hiding a goose under her sheepskin. When she recognized him she +ran behind the fence. But Josel continued to smile. He smiled, when he +paid the labourer a rouble for the corn, including the sack; he smiled, +when the girl handed over the goose and got a bottle of sour beer in +return; he smiled, when he listened to the gospodarze discussing the +purchase of the land, and he smiled when he paid old Gryb two roubles +per cent., and took two roubles from young Gryb for every ten he lent +him. His smile no more came off his face than his dirty jersey came off +his back. + +The fire was out and the children were asleep when Slimak returned +home. + +'Well?' asked his wife, while he was undressing in the dark. + +'This is a trick of Josel's. He drives the others like a team of oxen.' + +'They won't let you in?' + +'They won't, but I shall go to the squire about the field.' + +'When are you going?' + +'To-morrow, else it may be too late.' + +To-morrow came; the day after came and went; a week passed, but Slimak +had not yet done anything. One day he said he must thresh for a corn +dealer, the other day that he had a pain inside. + +As a matter of fact, he neither threshed nor had a pain inside; but +something held him back which peasants call being afraid, gentlemen +slackness, and scholars inertia. + +He ate little, wandered round aimlessly, and often stood still in the +snow-covered field by the river, struggling with himself. Reason told +him that he ought to go to the manor and settle the matter, but another +power held him fast and whispered: 'Don't hurry, wait another day, it +will all come right somehow.' + +'Josef, why don't you go to the squire?' his wife asked day after day. + +One evening old Sobieska turned up again. She was suffering from +rheumatism, and required treatment with a 'thimbleful' of vodka which +loosened her tongue. + +'It was like this,' she began: 'Gryb and Lukasiak went with Grochowski, +all three dressed as for a Corpus Christi procession. The squire +received them in the bailiff's office, and Gryb cleared his throat and +went for it. "We have heard, sir, that you are going to sell your +family estate. Every man has a right to sell, and the other to buy. But +it would be a pity to allow the land which your forefathers possessed, +and which we peasants have cultivated, to fall into the hands of +strangers who have no associations with old times. Therefore, sir, sell +the land to us." I tell you,'Sobieska continued, 'he talked for an +hour, like the priest in the pulpit; at last Lukasiak got stiff in the +back,[1] and they all burst out crying. Then they embraced the squire's +feet, and he took their heads between his hands[2] and...' + +[Footnote 1: The peasants would stand bent all the time.] + +[Footnote 2: A nobleman, in order to show goodwill to his subordinates, +slightly presses their heads between his hands.] + +'Well, and are they buying?' Slimak interrupted impatiently. + +'Why shouldn't they buy? Certainly they are buying. They are not yet +quite agreed as to the price, for the squire wants a hundred roubles an +acre, and the peasants are offering fifty; but they cried so much, and +talked so long about good feeling between peasants and landowners that +the gospodarze will add another ten, and the squire will let them off +the rest. Josel has told them to give that much and no more, and not to +be in a hurry, then they'll be sure to drive a good bargain. He's a +damned clever Jew! Since he has taken the matter in hand, people have +flocked to the inn as if the Holy Mother were working miracles there.' + +'Is he still setting the others against me?' + +'He is not actually setting them against you, but he puts in a word now +and then that you can no longer count as a gospodarz, since you have +taken to trading. The others are even more angry with you than he is; +they can't forget that you sold chickens at just double the price you +bought them for.' + +The result of this news was that Slimak set out for the manor-house +early the next day, and returned depressed in the afternoon. A large +bowl of sauerkraut presently made him willing to discourse. + +'It was like this: I arrive at the manor, and when I look up I see that +all the windows of the large room on the ground floor are wide open. +God forbid! has some one died? I think to myself. I peep in and see +Mateus, the footman, in a white apron with brushes on his feet, skating +up and down like the boys on the ice. "The Lord be praised, Mateus, +what are you doing?" I say. "In Eternity, I am polishing the floor," +says he; "we are going to have a big dance here to-night." "Is the +squire up yet?" "He is up, but the tailor is with him; he is trying on +a Crakovian costume. My lady is going to be a gipsy." "I want him to +sell me that field," I say. Mateus says: "Don't be a fool! how can the +squire think of your field, when he is amusing himself making up as a +Crakovian." So I go away from the window and stand about near the +kitchen for a bit. They are bustling like anything, the fire is burning +like a forge, and the butter is hissing. Presently Ignaz, the kitchen +boy, comes out, covered with blood, as if he had been stuck. "Ignaz, +for God's sake, what have you been doing?" I ask. "I haven't been doing +anything; it's the cook, he's been boxing my ears with a dead duck." +"The Lord be praised it is not your blood. Tell me where I can find the +squire." "Wait here," he says, "they'll bring in the boar, and the +squire is sure to come and have a look at it." Ignaz runs off, and I +wait and wait, until the shivers run down my back. But still I wait.' + +'Well, and did you see the squire?' Slimakowa asked impatiently. + +'Of course I saw him.' + +'Did you speak to him?' + +'Rather!' + +'What did you settle?' + +'Well...ah...I told him I wanted to beg a favour of him about the +field, but he said, "Oh, leave me alone, I have no head for business +to-day."' + +'And when will you go again?' + +Slimak held up his hands: 'Perhaps to-morrow, or the day after, when +they have slept off their dance.' + +That same day Maciek drove a sledge to the forest, taking with him an +axe, a bite of food, and 'Silly Zoska's' daughter. The mother had never +asked after her, and Maciek had mothered the child; he fed her, took +her to the stable with him at night and to his work in the day-time. + +The child was so weak that it hardly ever uttered a sound. Every one, +especially Sobieska, had predicted her early death. + +'She won't last a week.'...'She'll die tomorrow.'...'She's as good as +gone already.' + +But she had lived through the week and longer, and even when she had +been taken for dead once, she opened her tired eyes to the world again. +Maciek paid no attention to these prognostications. 'Never fear,' he +said, 'nothing will happen to her.' He continued to feed her in the +cowshed after dark. + +'What makes you take trouble about that wretched child, Maciek?' +Slimakowa would say; 'if you talked to her about the Blessed Bible +itself she would take no notice; she's dreadfully stupid, I never saw +such a noodle in all my life.' + +'She doesn't talk, because she has sense,' said Maciek; 'when she +begins to talk she will be as wise as an old man.' + +That was because Maciek was in the habit of talking to her about his +work, whatever he might be doing, manuring, threshing, or patching his +clothes. + +To-day he was taking her with him to the forest, tied to the sledge, +and wrapt in the remnants of his old sheepskin and a shawl. Uphill and +downhill over the hummocks bumped the sledge, until they arrived on +level ground, where the slanting rays of the sun, endlessly reflected +from the snow-crystals, fell into their eyes. The child began to cry. + +Maciek turned her sideways, scolding: 'Now then, I told you to shut +your eyes! No man, and if he were the bishop himself, can look at the +sun; it's God's lantern. At daybreak the Lord Jesus takes it into his +hand and has a look round his gospodarstwo. In the winter, when the +frost is hard, he takes a short cut and sleeps longer. But he makes up +for it in the summer, and looks all over the world till eight o'clock +at night. That's why one should be astir from daybreak till sunset. But +you may sleep longer, little one, for you aren't much use yet. Woa!' +They entered the forest. 'Here we are! this is the forest, and it +belongs to the squire. Slimak has bought a cartload of wood, and we +must get it home before the roads are too bad. Steady, lads!' They +stopped by a square pile of wood. Maciek untied the child and put her +in a sheltered place, took out a bottle of milk and put it to her lips. +'Drink it and get strong, there will be some work for you. The logs are +heavy, and you must lift them into the sledge. You don't want the milk? +Naughty girl! Call out when you want it.... A little child like that +makes things cheerful for a man,' he reflected. 'Formerly there never +was any one to open one's mouth to, now one can talk all the time. Now +watch how the work should be done. Jendrek would pull the logs about, +and get tired in no time and stop. But mind you take them from the top, +carefully, and lift them into the sledge, one by one like this. Never +be in a hurry, little one, or else the damned wood will tire you out. +It doesn't want to go on to the sledge, for it has sense, and knows +what to expect. We all prefer our own corner of the world, even if it +is a bad one. But to you and me it's all the same, we have no corner of +our own; die here or die there, it makes no difference.' Now and then +he rested, or tucked the child up more closely. + +Meanwhile, the sky had reddened, and a strong north-west wind sprang +up, saturated with moisture. The forest, held in its winter sleep, +slowly began to move and to talk. The green pine needles trembled, then +the branches and boughs began to sway and beckon to each other. The +tops, and finally the stems rocked forward and backward, as if they +contemplated starting on a march. It was as if their eternal fixedness +grieved them, and they were setting out in a tumultuous crowd to the +ends of the world. Sometimes they became motionless near the sledge, as +though they did not wish to betray their secret to a human being. Then +the tramp of countless feet, the march past of whole columns of the +right wing, could be heard distinctly; they approached, and passed at a +distance. The left wing followed; the snow creaked under their +footsteps, they were already in a line with the sledge. The middle +column, emboldened, began to call in mighty whispers. Then they halted +angrily, stood still in their places and seemed to roar: 'Go away! go +away, and do not hinder us!' + +But Maciek was only a poor labourer, and though he was afraid of the +giants, and would gladly have made room for them, he could not leave +until he had loaded up his sledge. He did not rest now or rub his +frozen hands; he worked as fast as he could, so that the night and the +winter storms should not overtake him. + +The sky grew darker and darker with clouds; mists rose in the forests +and froze into fine crystals which instantly covered Maciek's sukmana, +the child's shawl, and the horses' manes with a crackling crust. The +logs became so slippery that his hands could scarcely hold them; the +ground was like glass. He looked anxiously towards the setting sun: it +was dangerous to return with a heavy load when the roads were in that +condition. He crossed himself, put the child into the sledge, and +whipped up the horses. Maciek stood in fear of many things, but most of +all he feared the overturning of a sledge or cart, and being crushed +underneath. + +When they were out of the wood the track became worse and worse. The +rough-hewn runners constantly sank into snow-drifts and the sledge +canted over, so that the poor man, trembling with fear and cold, had to +prop it up with all his strength. If his twisted foot gave way, there +was an end to him and the child. + +From time to time the horses stopped dead, and Maciek ceased shouting. +Then a great silence spread round him, only the distant roar of the +forest, the whistling of the wind, and the whimpering of the child +could be heard. + +'Woa!' he began again, and the horses tugged and slipped where they +stood, moved on a few steps, and stopped again. + +'To Thy protection we flee, Holy Mother of God!' he whispered, took his +axe and cut into the smooth road in front of the horses. + +It took him a long time to cover the short distance to the high road, +but when they got there, the horses refused to go on at all. The hill +in front of them was impassable. He sat down on the sledge, pondering +whether Slimak would come to his assistance, or leave him to his fate. +'He'll come for the horses; don't cry, little one, God won't forsake +us.' While he listened, it seemed to him as if the whistling of the +wind changed into the sound of bells. Was it his fancy? But the bells +never ceased; some were deep-toned and some high-toned; voices were +intermixed with them. They approached from behind like a swarm of bees +in the summer. + +'What can it be?' said Maciek, and stood up. + +Small flames shone in the distance. They disappeared among the juniper +bushes, and then flickered up again, now high, now low, coming nearer +and nearer, until a number of objects, running at full speed, could be +seen in the uncertain light of the flames. The tumult of voices +increased; Maciek heard the clattering of hoofs, the cracking of whips. + +'Heh! stop...there's a hill there!' + +'Look out! don't be crazy!' + +'Stop the sledge, I shall get out!' + +'No, go on!' + +'Jesus Mary!' + +'Have the musicians been spilt yet?' + +'Not yet, but they will be.' + +'Oh...la la!' + +Maciek now understood that this was a sleigh race. The teams of +two-and four-horsed sleighs approached at a gallop, accompanied by +riders on horseback carrying torches. In the thick mist it looked as if +the procession appeared out of an abyss through a circular gate of +fire. They bore straight down upon the spot where Maciek and his sledge +had come to a standstill. Suddenly the first one stopped. + +'Hey...what's that?' + +'Something is in the way.' + +'What is it?' + +'A peasant with a cartload of wood.' + +'Out of the way, dog. Throw him into the ditch!' + +'Shut up! We'd better move him on.' + +'That we will! We are going to move the peasant on. Out of your +sledges, gentlemen!' + +Before Maciek had recovered from his astonishment, he was surrounded by +masked men in rich costumes with plumed hats, swords, guitars, or +brooms. They seized his sledge and himself, pushed them to the top of +the hill and down the other side on to level ground. + +'Thank God!' thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this +way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows!' + +'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill,' some one shouted from +the distance. + +'Then let them get out and walk!' + +'The sledges had better not go down.' + +'Why not? Go on, Antoni!' + +'I don't advise it, sir.' + +'Then get off and be hanged! I'll drive myself!' + +Bells jingled violently, and a one-horse sledge passed Maciek like a +whirlwind. He crossed himself. + +'Drive on, Andrei!' + +'Stop, Count! It's too risky!' + +'Go on!' + +Another sledge flew past. + +'Bravo! Sporting fellow!' + +'Drive on, Jacent!' + +Two sledges were racing each other, a driver and a mask in each. The +mad race had made the road sufficiently safe for the other empty +sledges to pass with greater caution. + +'Now give your arm to the ladies! A polonaise! Musicians!' + +The outriders with torches posted themselves along the road, the +musicians tuned up, and couple after couple detached itself from the +darkness like an iridescent apparition. They hovered past to the +melancholy strains of the Oginski polonaise. + +Maciek took off his cap, drew the child from under the sheepskin and +stood beside his sledge. + +'Now look, you'll never see anything so beautiful again. Don't be +afraid!' + +An armoured and visored man passed. + +'Do you see that knight? Formerly people like that conquered half the +world, now there are none of them left.' + +A grey-bearded senator passed. + +'Look at him! People used to fear his judgment, but there are none like +him left! That one, as gaudy as a woodpecker, was a great nobleman +once; he did nothing but drink and dance; he could drain a barrel at a +bout, and he spent so much money that he had to sell his family estate, +poor wretch! There's a Uhlan; they used to fight for Napoleon and +conquer all the nations, but there are no fighters left in the world. +There's a chimney sweep and a peasant...but in reality they are all +gentlemen amusing themselves.' + +The procession passed; fainter and fainter grew the strains of the +Oginski polonaise; with shouts and laughter the masks got back into the +sleighs, hoofs clattered and whips cracked. + +Maciek started cautiously homeward in the wake of the jingling sleighs. +Distant flames were still twinkling ahead, and the wind carried faint +sounds of merriment back to him. Then all was silent. + +'Are they doing right?' he murmured, perturbed. + +For he recalled the portrait of the grey-headed senator in the choir of +the church; he had even prayed to it sometimes.... The bald-headed +nobleman was there too, whom the peasants called 'the cursed man', and +the knight in armour who was lying on his tomb beside the altar of the +Holy Martyr Apollonius. Then he remembered the friar who walked through +the Vistula, and Queen Jadwiga who had brought salt from Hungary. And +by the side of all these he saw his own old wise grandfather, Roch +Owczarz, who had been a soldier under Napoleon, and came home without a +penny, and in his old age became sacristan at the church, and explained +all the pictures to the gospodarze so beautifully that he earned more +money than the organist. + +'The Lord rest his soul eternally!' + +And now these noblemen were amusing themselves with sacred matters! +What would they do next?... + +Slimak met him when he was about a verst from the cottage. + +'We have been wondering if you had got stuck on the hill. Thank God you +are safe. Did you see the sleigh race?' + +'Oho!' said Maciek. + +'I wonder they did not smash you to pieces.' + +'Why should they? They even helped me up the hill.' + +'Dear me! And they didn't pull you about?' + +'They only pulled my cap over my ears.' + +'That is just like them; either they will smash you up, or else be +kindness itself, it just depends what temper they're in.' + +'But the way they drove down those hills made one's flesh creep. No +sober man would have come out of it alive.' + +Two sledges now overtook them; there was one traveller in the first and +two in the second. + +'Can you tell me where that sleigh party was driving to?' asked the +occupant of the first. + +'To the squire's.' + +'Indeed!... Do you know if Josel, the innkeeper, is at home?' + +'I dare say he is, unless he is off on some swindle or other.' + +'Do you know if your squire has sold his estate yet?' asked a guttural +voice from the second sledge. + +'You shouldn't ask him such a question, Fritz,' remonstrated his +companion. + +'Oh! the devil take the whole business!' replied Fritz. + +'Aha, here they are again!' said Slimak. + +'What do all those Old Testament Jews want?' asked Maciek. + +'There was only one Jew, the others are Germans from Wolka.' + +'The gentlefolks never have any peace; no sooner do they want to enjoy +themselves, than the Jews drive after them,' said Maciek. + +Indeed, the sledges conveying the travellers were now with difficulty +driving towards the valley, and presently stopped at Josel's inn. + +Barrels of burning pitch in front of the manor house threw a rosy glare +over the wintry landscape; distant sounds of music came floating on the +air. + +Josel came out and directed the Jew's sledge to the manor. The Germans +got out, and one of them shouted after the departing Jew: 'You will see +nothing will come of it; they are amusing themselves.' + +'Well, and what of that?' + +'A nobleman does not give up a dance for a business interview.' + +'Then he will sell without it.' + +'Or put you off.' + +'I have no time for that.' + +The facade of the manor-house glowed as in a bengal light; the +sleigh-bells were still tinkling in the yard, where the coachmen were +quarrelling over accommodation for their horses. Crowds of village +people were leaning against the railings to watch the dancers flit past +the windows, and to catch the strains of the music. Around all this +noise, brightness, and merriment lay the darkness of the winter night, +and from the winter night emerged slowly the sledge, carrying the +silent, meditating Jew. + +His modest conveyance stopped at the gate, and he dragged himself to +the kitchen entrance; his whole demeanour betrayed great mental and +physical tiredness. He tried to attract the attention of the cook, but +failed entirely; the kitchen-maid also turned her back on him. At last +he got hold of a boy who was hurrying across to the pantry, seized him +by the shoulders, and pressed a twenty kopek-piece into his hand. + +'You shall have another twenty kopeks if you will bring the footman.' + +'Does your honour know Mateus?' The boy scrutinized him sharply. + +'I do, bring him here.' + +Mateus appeared without delay. + +'Here is a rouble for you; ask your master if he will see me, and I +will double it.' The footman shook his head. + +'The master is sure to refuse.' + +'Tell him, it is Pan Hirschgold, on urgent business from my lady's +father. Here is another rouble, so that you do not forget the name.' + +Mateus quickly disappeared, but did not quickly return. The music +stopped, yet he did not return; a polka followed, yet he did not +return. At last he appeared: 'The master asks you to come to the +bailiff's office.' He took Pan Hirschgold into a room where several +camp-beds had been made up for the guests. The Jew took off his +expensive fur, sat down in an armchair by the fire and meditated. + +The polka had been finished, and a vigorous mazurka began. The tumult +and stamping increased from time to time; commands rang out, and were +followed by a noise which shook the house from top to bottom. The Jew +listened indifferently, and waited without impatience. + +Suddenly there was a great commotion in the passage; the door was +opened impetuously, and the squire entered. + +He was dressed as a Crakovian peasant in a red coat covered with +jingling ornaments, wide, pink-and-white-striped breeches, a red cap +with a peacock's feather, and iron-shod shoes. + +'How are you, Pan Hirschgold?' he cried good-humouredly, 'what is this +urgent message from my father-in-law?' + +'Read it, sir.' + +'What, now? I'm dancing a mazurka.' + +'And I am building a railway.' + +The squire bit his lip, and quickly ran his eye over the letter. The +noise of the dancers increased. + +'You want to buy my estate?' + +'Yes, and at once, sir.' + +'But you see that I am giving a dance.' + +'The colonists are waiting to come in, sir. If you cannot settle with +me before midnight, I shall settle with your neighbour. He gains, and +you lose.' + +The squire was becoming feverish. + +'My father-in-law recommends you highly...all the same,...on the spur +of the moment....' + +'You need only write a word or two.' + +The squire dashed his red cap down on the table. 'Really, Pan +Hirschgold, this is unbearable!' + +'It's not my fault; I should like to oblige you, but business is +pressing.' + +There was another hubbub in the passage, and the Uhlan burst into the +room, 'For heaven's sake, what are you doing, Wladek?' + +'Urgent business.' + +'But your lady is waiting for you!' + +'Do arrange for some one to take my place; I tell you, it's urgent.' + +'I don't know how the lady will take it!' cried the retreating Uhlan. + +The powerful bass voice of the leader of the mazurka rang out: 'Ladies' +ronde!' + +'How much will you give me?' hastily began the squire. 'Rather an +original situation!' he unexpectedly added, with humour. + +'Seventy-five roubles an acre. This is my highest offer. To-morrow I +should only give sixty-seven.' + +'En avant!' from the ball-room. + +'Never!' cried the squire, 'I should prefer to sell to the peasants.' + +'And get fifty, or at the outside sixty.' + +'Or go on managing the estate myself.' + +'You are doing that now...what is the result?' + +'What do you mean?' said the squire irritably, 'it's excellent +soil....' + +'I know all about the property,' interrupted the Jew, 'from the bailiff +who left at New Year.' + +The squire became angry. 'I can sell to the colonists myself.' + +'They may give sixty-seven, but meanwhile my lady is dying of boredom.' + +'Chŕine to the left!' + +The squire became desperate. 'God, what am I to do?' + +'Sign the agreement. Your father-in-law advises you to do so, and tells +you that I shall pay the highest price.' + +'Partagez!' + +Again the Uhlan violently burst into the room. + +'Wladek, you really must come; the Count is mortally offended, and says +he will take his fiancée away.' + +'Oh, confound it! Pan Hirschgold, write the agreement at once, I will +be back directly.' + +Unmindful of the gaiety of the dance, the Jew calmly took an inkpot, +pen, and paper out of his bag, wrote a dozen lines, and sat down, +waiting for the noise to subside. + +A quarter of an hour later the squire returned in the best of spirits. + +'Ready?' he asked cheerfully. + +'Ready.' + +The squire read the paper, signed, and said with a smile: + +'What, do you think is the value of this agreement?' + +'Perhaps the legal value is not great, but it has some value for your +father-in-law, and he...well, he is a rich man!' + +He blew on the signature, folded up the paper, and asked with a shade +of irony: 'Well, and the Count?' + +'Oh, he is pacified.' + +'He will want more pacifying presently, when his creditors become +annoying. I wish you a pleasant night, sir.' + +No sooner had the squire left the room, than Mateus, the footman, +appeared, as if the ground had produced him. He helped the Jew into his +coat. + +'Did you buy the estate, sir?' + +'Why shouldn't I? It's not the first, nor will it be the last.' + +He gave the footman three roubles. Mateus bowed to the ground and +offered to call his sledge. + +'Oh no, thank you,' said the Jew, 'I have left my own sledge in Warsaw, +and I am not anxious to parade this wretched conveyance.' + +Nevertheless, Mateus attended him deferentially into the yard. + +In the ballroom polkas, valses, and mazurkas followed each other +endlessly until the pale dawn appeared, and the cottage fires were lit. + +Slimak rose with the winter sun, and whispering a prayer, walked out of +the gate. He looked at the sky, then towards the manor-house, wondering +how long the merrymaking was going to last. + +The sky was blue, the first sun rays were bathing the snow in rose +colour, and the clouds in purple. Slimak drew a deep breath, and felt +that it was better to be out in the fresh air than indoors, dancing. + +'Making themselves tired without need,' he thought, 'when they might be +sleeping to their hearts' content!' Then he resumed his prayer. His +attention was attracted by voices, and he saw two men in navy blue +overcoats. When they caught sight of him, one asked at once: + +'That is your hill, gospodarz, isn't it?' + +Slimak looked at them in surprise. + +'Why do you keep on asking me about my property? I told you last summer +that the hill was mine.' + +'Then sell it to us,' said the man with the beard. + +'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man. + +'Oh bother! are you going to gossip again, father?' + +'Look here, gospodarz,' said the father, 'we have bought the squire's +estate. Now we want this; hill, because we want to build a +windmill....' + +'Gracious!' exclaimed the son disagreeably, 'have you lost your senses, +father? Listen! we want that land!' + +'My land?' the peasant repeated in amazement, looking about him, 'my +land?' + +He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'What right have +you gentlemen to my land?' + +'We have got money.' + +'Money?...I!...Sell my land for money? We have been settled here from +father to son; we were here at the time of the scourge of serfdom, and +even then we used to call the land "ours". My father got it for his own +by decree from the Emperor Alexander II; the Land Commission settled +all that, and we have the proper documents with signatures attached. +How can you say now that you want to buy my land?' + +The younger man had turned away indifferently during Slimak's long +speech and whistled, the older man shook his fist impatiently. + +'But we want to buy it...pay for it...cash! Sixty roubles an acre.' + +'And I wouldn't sell it for a hundred,' said Slimak. + +'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out +laughing. + +'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand +that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?' + +'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we +should pay you.' + +'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it +yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed. + +'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you +from morning till night.' + +The old man took Slimak's hand. + +'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not +like heathens. We praise the same God, why should we not agree? You +see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to +have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow +steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age. +That hill is nothing to you.' + +'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.' + +'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.' + +'Well, and I won't sell it!' + +The old man made a wry face, as if he were ready to cry. He drew the +peasant a few steps aside, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: +'Why are you so hard on me, gospodarz? You see, my sons don't hit it +off with each other. The elder is a farmer, and I want to set up the +younger as a miller and have him near me. I haven't long to live, I am +eighty years old, don't quarrel with me.' + +'Can't you buy land elsewhere?' + +'Not very well. We are a whole community settling together; it would +take a long time to make other arrangements. My son Wilhelm does not +like farming, and unless I buy him a windmill he will starve or go away +from me. I am an old man, sell me your land! Listen,' he whispered, 'I +will give you seventy-five roubles an acre. God is my witness, I am +offering you more than the land is worth. But you will let me have it, +won't you? You are an honest man and a Christian.' + +Slimak looked with astonishment and pity at the old man, from whose +inflamed eyes the tears were pouring down. + +'You can't have much sense, sir, to ask me such a thing,' he said. +'Would you ask a man to cut off his hand? What could a peasant do +without his land?' + +'You could buy twice as much. I will help you to find it.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are talking as a man talks when he digs up +a shrub in the woods. "Come," he says, "you shall be near my cottage!" +The shrub comes because it must, but it soon dies.' + +The man with the beard approached and spoke to his father in German. + +'So you won't sell me your land?' said the old man. + +'I won't.' + +'Not for seventy-five roubles?' + +'No.' + +'And I tell you, you will sell it,' cried the younger man, drawing his +father away. They went towards the bridge, talking German loudly. + +The peasant rested his chin on his hand and looked after them; then his +eyes fell on the manor-house, and he returned to the cottage at full +speed. 'Jagna,' he cried, 'do you know that the squire has sold his +estate?' The gospodyni crossed herself with a spoon. + +'In the name of the Father...Are you mad, Josef? Who told you so?' + +'Two Germans spoke to me just now; they told me. And, Jagna, they want +to buy our land, our own land!' + +'You are off your head altogether!' cried the woman. 'Jendrek, go and +see if there are any Germans about; your father is talking nonsense.' + +Jendrek returned with the information that he had seen two men in blue +overcoats the other side of the bridge. + +Slimak sat on the bench, his head drooping, his hands resting limply on +his knees. The morning light had turned grey, and made men and objects +look dull. The gospodyni suddenly looked attentively at her husband. + +'Why are you so pale?' she asked. 'What is the matter?' + +'What is the matter? A nice question for a clever woman to ask! Don't +you understand that the Germans will take the field away from us if the +squire has sold it to them?' + +'Why should they? We could pay the rent to them.' + +The woman tried to talk confidently, but her voice was unsteady. + +'You don't know what you're talking about! Germans keep cattle and are +sharp after grazing land. Besides, they will want to get rid of me.' + +'We shall see who gets rid of whom!' Slimakowa said sharply. + +She came and stood in front of her husband, with her arms akimbo, +gradually raising her voice. + +'Lord, what a man! He has only just looked at the Swabian[1] vermin, +and he has lost heart already. They will take away the field? Well, +what of that? we will drive the cattle into it all the same.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish peasants call all Germans 'Swabians'.] + +'They will shoot the cattle.' + +'That isn't allowed.' + +'Then they will go to law and worry the life out of me.' + +'Very well, then we will buy fodder.' + +'Where? The gospodarze won't sell us any, and we shan't get a blade +from the Germans.' + +The breakfast was boiling over, but the housewife paid no attention to +it. She shook her clenched fists at her husband. + +'What do you mean, Josef! Pull yourself together! This is bad, and that +is no good!...What will you do then? You are taking the courage away +from me, a woman, instead of making up your mind what to do. Aren't you +ashamed before the children and Magda to sit there like a dying man, +rolling your eyes? Do you think I shall let the children starve for the +sake of your Germans, or do you think I shall get rid of the cow? Don't +imagine that I shall allow you to sell your land! No fear! If I fall +down dead and they bury me, I shall dig myself out again and prevent +you from doing the children harm! Why are you sitting there, looking at +me like a sheep? Eat your breakfast and go to the manor. Find out if +the squire has really sold his land, and if he hasn't, fall at his +feet, and lie there till he lets you have the field, even if you have +to pay sixty roubles.' + +'And if he has sold it?' + +'If he has sold it, may God punish him!' + +'That won't give us the field.' + +'You are a fool!' she cried. 'We and the children and the cattle have +lived by God's grace and not by the squire's.' + +'That's so,' said Slimak, suddenly getting up. 'Give me my breakfast. +What are you crying for?' + +After her passionate outburst Slimakowa had actually broken down. + +'How am I not to cry,' she sobbed, 'when the merciful God has punished +me with such an idiot of a husband? He will do nothing himself and +takes away my courage into the bargain.' + +'Don't be a fool,' he said, with his face clouding. 'I'll go to the +squire at once, even if I should have to give sixty roubles.' + +'But if the field is sold?' + +'Hang him, we have lived by the grace of God and not by his.' + +'Then where will you get fodder?' + +'Look after your pots and pans, and don't meddle with a man's affairs.' + +'The Germans will drive you away.' + +'The deuce they will!' He struck the table with his fist. 'If I were to +fall down dead, if they chopped me into little pieces, I wouldn't let +the dogs have my land. Give me my breakfast, or I'll ask you the reason +why!...And you, Jendrek, be off with Maciek, or I shall get the strap!' + +The sun shone into the ballroom of the manorhouse through every chink +and opening; streaks of white light lay on the floor, which was dented +by the dancers' heels, and on the walls; the rays were reflected in the +mirrors, rested on the gilt cornices and on the polished furniture. In +comparison with them the light of the candles and lamps looked yellow +and turbid. The ladies were pale and had blue circles round their eyes, +the powder was falling from their dishevelled hair, their dresses were +crumpled, and here and there in holes. The padding showed under the +imitation gold of the braids and belts of notables; rich velvets had +turned into cheap velveteens, beaver fur to rabbit skins, and silver +armour to tin. The musicians' hands dropped, the dancers' legs had +grown stiff. Intoxication had cooled and given place to heaviness; lips +were breathing feverishly. Only three couples were now turning in the +middle of the room, then two, then none. There was a lack of arm-chairs +for the men; the ladies hid their yawns behind their fans. At last the +music ceased, and as no one said anything, a dead silence spread +through the room. Candles began to splutter and went out, lamps smoked. + +'Shall we go in to tea?' asked the squire, in a hoarse voice. + +'To bed...to bed,' whispered the guests. + +'The bedrooms are ready,' he said, trying to sound cheerful, in spite +of sleepiness and a cold. + +The ladies immediately got up, threw their wraps over their shoulders +and left the room, turning their faces away from the windows. + +Soon the ballroom was empty, save for the old cellist, who had gone to +sleep with his arms round his instrument. The bustle was transferred to +distant rooms; there was much stamping upstairs and noise of men's +voices in the courtyard. Then all became silent. + +The squire came clinking along the passages, looked dully round the +ballroom, and said, yawning: 'Put out the lights, Mateus, and open the +windows. Where is my lady?' + +'My lady has gone to her room.' + +My lady, in her orange-velvet gipsy costume and a diamond hoop in her +hair, was lying in an arm-chair, her head thrown back. The squire +dropped into another arm-chair, yawning broadly. + +'Well, it was a great success.' + +'Splendid,' yawned my lady. + +'Our guests ought to be satisfied.' After a while he spoke again. + +'Do you know that I have sold the estate?' + +'To whom?' + +'To Hirschgold; he is giving me seventy-five roubles an acre.' + +'Thank God we shall get away at last.' + +'Well, you might come and give me a kiss!' + +'I'm much too tired. Come here, if you want one.' + +'I deserve that you should come here. I've done exceedingly well.' + +'No, I won't. Hirschgold...Hirschgold...oh yes, some acquaintance of +father's. The first mazurka was splendid, wasn't it?' + +The squire was snoring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The squire and his wife left for Warsaw a week after the ball. Their +place was taken by Hirschgold's agent, a freckle-faced Jew, who +installed himself in a small room in the bailiffs house, spent his days +in looking through and sending out accounts, and bolted the door and +slept with two revolvers under his pillow at night. + +The squire had taken part of the furniture with him, the rest of the +suites and fixtures were sold to the neighbouring gentry; the Jews +bought up the library by the pound, the priest acquired the American +organ, the garden-seats passed into Gryb's ownership, and for three +roubles the peasant Orzchewski became possessed of the large engraving +of Leda and the Swan, to which the purchaser and his family said their +prayers. The inlaid floors henceforward decorated the magisterial +court, and the damask hangings were bought by the tailors and made into +bodices for the village girls. + +When Slimak went a few weeks later to have a look at the manor-house he +could not believe his eyes at the sight of the destruction that had +taken place. There were no panes in the windows and not a single latch +left on the wide-open doors; the walls had been stripped and the floors +taken up. The drawing-room was a dungheap, Pani Joselawa, the +innkeeper's wife, had put up hencoops there and in the adjoining rooms; +axes and saws were lying about everywhere. The farmhands, who according +to agreement were kept on till midsummer, strolled idly from corner to +corner; one of the teamdrivers had taken desperately to drink; the +housekeeper was ill with fever, and the pantryboy, as well as one of +the farm-boys, were in prison for stealing latches off the doors. + +'Good God!' said the peasant. + +He was seized with fear at the thought of the unknown power which had +ruined the ancient manor-house in a moment. An invisible cloud seemed +to be hanging over the valley and the village; the first flash of +lightning had struck and completely shattered the seat of its owners. + +Some days later the neighbourhood began to swarm with strangers, +woodcutters and sawyers, mostly Germans. They walked and drove in +crowds along the road past Slimak's cottage; sometimes they marched in +detachments like soldiers. They were quartered at the manor, where they +turned out the servants and the remaining cattle: they occupied every +corner. At night they lit great fires in the courtyard, and in the +morning they all walked off to the woods. At first it was difficult to +guess what they were doing. Soon, however, there was a distant echo as +of someone drumming with his fingers on the table; at last the sound of +the axe and the thud of falling trees was heard quite plainly. Fresh +inroads on the wavy contour of the forest appeared continually; first +crevices, then windows, then wide openings, and for the first time +since the world was the world, the astonished sky looked into the +valley from that side. + +The wood fell: only the sky remained and the earth with a few juniper +bushes and countless rows of tree-trunks, hastily stripped of their +branches. The rapacious axe had not spared one of the leafy tribe. Not +one--not even the centenarian oak which had been touched by lightning +more than once. Gazing upwards, this defier of storms had hardly +noticed the worms turning round its feet, and the blows of their axes +meant no more to it than the tapping of the woodpecker. It fell +suddenly, convinced at the last that the world was insecure after all, +and not worth living in. + +There was another oak, half withered, on the branches of which the +unfortunate Simon Golamb[1] had hanged himself; the people passed it in +fear. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling: _Gotab_.] + +'Flee!' it murmured, when the woodcutters approached. 'I bring you +death; only one man dared to touch my branches, and he died.' But the +woodcutters paid no heed, deeper and deeper they sent the sharp axe +into its heart, and with a roar it swayed and fell. + +The night-wind moaned over the corpses of the strong trees, and the +birds and wild creatures, deprived of their native habitations, +mourned. + +Older still than the oaks were the huge boulders thickly sown over the +fields. The peasants had never touched them; they were too heavy to be +removed; moreover, there was a superstition that the rebellious devils +had in the first days of the creation thrown these stones at the +angels, and that it was unlucky to touch them. Overgrown with moss they +each lay in an island of green grass; the shepherds lit their fires +beneath them on chilly nights, the ploughmen lay down in their shade on +a hot afternoon, the hawker would sometimes hide his treasures +underneath them. + +Now their last hour had struck too; men began to busy themselves about +them. At first the village people thought that the 'Swabians' were +looking for treasure; but Jendrek found out that they were boring holes +in the venerable stones. + +'What are the idiots doing that for?' asked Slimakowa. 'Blessed if I +know what's the good of that to them!' + +'I know, neighbour,' said old Sobieska, blinking her eyes; 'they are +boring because they have heard that there are toads inside those big +stones.' + +'And what if there are?' + +'You see, they want to know if it's true.' + +'But what's that to them?' + +'I'll be hanged if I know!' retorted Sobieska in such a decided tone +that Slimakowa considered the matter as settled. + +The Germans, however, were not looking for toads. Before long such a +cannonading began that the echoes reached the farthest ends of the +valley, telling every one that not even the rocks were able to +withstand the Germans. + +'Those Swabians are a hard race,' muttered Slimak, as he gazed on the +giants that had been dashed to pieces. He thought of the colonists for +whom the property had been bought, and who now wanted his land as well. + +'They are not anywhere about,' he thought; 'perhaps they won't come +after all.' + +But they came. + +One morning, early in April, Slimak went out before sunrise as usual to +say his prayers in the open. The east was flushed with pink, the stars +were paling, only the morning star shone like a jewel, and was welcomed +from below by the awakening birds. + +The peasant's lips moved in prayer, while he fixed his eyes on the +white mist which covered the ground like snow. Then it was that he +heard a distant sound from beyond the hills, a rumble of carts and the +voices of many people. He quickly walked up the lonely pine hill and +perceived a long procession of carts covered with awnings, filled with +human beings and their domestic and agricultural implements. Men in +navy-blue coats and straw hats were walking beside them, cows were tied +behind, and small herds of pigs were scrambling in and out of the +procession. A little cart, scarcely larger than a child's, brought up +the rear; it was drawn by a dog and a woman, and conveyed a man whose +feet were dangling down in front. + +'The Swabians are coming!' flashed through Slimak's mind, but he put +the thought away from him. + +'Maybe they are gipsies,' he argued. But no--they were not dressed like +gipsies, and woodcutters don't take cattle about with them--then who +were they? + +He shrank from the thought that the colonists were actually coming. + +'Maybe it's they, maybe not...' he whispered. + +For a moment a hill concealed them from his view, and he hoped that the +vision had dissolved into the light of day. But there they were again, +and each step of their lean horses brought them nearer. The sun was +gilding the hill which they were ascending, and the larks were singing +brightly to welcome them. + +Across the valley the church bell was ringing. Was it calling to +prayers as usual, or did it warn the people of the invasion of a +foreign power? + +Slimak looked towards the village. The cottage-doors were closed, no +one was astir, and even if he had shouted aloud, 'Look, gospodarze, the +Germans are here!' no one would have been alarmed. + +The string of noisy people now began to file past Slimak's cottage. The +tired horses were walking slowly, the cows could scarcely lift their +feet, the pigs squeaked and stumbled. But the people were happy, +laughing and shouting from cart to cart. They turned round by the +bridge on to the open ground. + +The small cart in the rear had now reached Slimak's gate; the big dog +fell down panting, the man raised himself to a sitting position and the +girl took the strap from her shoulder and wiped her perspiring +forehead. Slimak was seized with pity for them; he came down from the +hill and approached the travellers. + +'Where do you all come from? Who are you?' he asked. + +'We are colonists from beyond the Vistula,' the girl answered. 'Our +people have bought land here, and we have come with them.' + +'But have not you bought land also?' + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +'Is it the custom with you for the women to drag the men about?' + +'What can we do? we have no horses and my father cannot walk on his own +feet.' + +'Is your father lame?' + +'Yes.' + +The peasant reflected for a moment. + +'Then he is hanging on to the others, as it were?' + +'Oh no,' replied the girl with much spirit, 'father teaches the +children and I take in sewing, and when there is no sewing to do I work +in the fields.' + +Slimak looked at her with surprise and said, after a pause: 'You can't +be German, you talk our language very well.' + +'We are from Germany.' + +'Yes, we are Germans,' said the man in the cart, speaking for the first +time. + +Slimakowa and Jendrek now came out of the cottage and joined the group +at the gate. + +'What a strong dog!' cried Jendrek. + +'Look here,' said Slimak, 'this lady has dragged her lame father a long +way in the cart; would you do that, you scamp?' + +'Why should I? Haven't they any horses, dad?' + +'We have had horses,' murmured the man in the cart, 'but we haven't any +now.' + +He was pale and thin, with red hair and beard. + +'Wouldn't you like to rest and have something to eat after your long +journey?' inquired Slimak. + +'I don't want anything to eat, but my father would like some milk.' + +'Run and get some milk, Jendrek,' cried Slimak. + +'Meaning no offence,' said Slimakowa, 'but you Germans can't have a +country of your own, or else you wouldn't come here.' + +'This is our home,' the girl replied. 'I was born in this country, the +other side of the Vistula.' + +Her father made an impatient movement and said in a broken voice: 'We +Germans have a country of our own, larger than yours, but it's not +pleasant to live in: too many people, too little land; it's difficult +to make a living, and we have to pay heavy taxes and do hard military +service, and there are penalties for everything.' + +He coughed and continued after a pause: 'Everybody wants to be +comfortable and live as he pleases, and not as others tell him. It's +not pleasant to live in our country, so we've come here.' + +Jendrek brought the milk and offered it to the girl, who gave it to her +father. + +'God repay you!' sighed the invalid; 'the people in this country are +kind.' + +'I wish you would not do us harm,' said Slimakowa in a half-whisper. + +'Why should we do you harm?' said the man. 'Do we take your land? do we +steal? do we murder you? We are quiet people, we get in nobody's way so +long as nobody gets...' + +'You have bought the land here,' Slimak interrupted. + +'But why did your squire sell it to us? If thirty peasants had been +settled here instead of one man, who did nothing but squander his +money, our people would not have come. Why did not you yourselves form +a community and buy the village? Your money would have been as good as +ours. You have been settled here for ages, but the colonists had to +come in before you troubled about the land, and then no sooner have +they bought it than they become a stumbling-block to you! Why wasn't +the squire a stumbling-block to you?' + +Breathless, he paused and looked at his wasted arms, then continued: +'To whom is it that the colonists resell their land? To you peasants! +On the other side of the Vistula[1] the peasants bought up every scrap +of our land.' + +[Footnote 1: i.e. in Prussian Poland. One of the Polish people's +grievances is that the large properties are not sold direct to them but +to the colonists, and the peasants have to buy the land from them. +Statistics show that in spite of the great activity of the German +Colonization Commission more and more land is constantly acquired by +the Polish peasants, who hold on to the land tenaciously.] + +'One of your lot is always after me to sell him my land,' said Slimak. + +'To think of such a thing!' interposed his wife. 'Who is he?' + +'How should I know? there are two of them, and they came twice, an old +man and one with a beard. They want my hill to put up a windmill, they +say.' + +'That's Hamer,' said the girl under her breath to her father. + +'Oh, Hamer,' repeated the invalid, 'he has caused us difficulties +enough. Our people wanted to go to the other side of the Bug, where +land only costs thirty roubles an acre, but he persuaded them to come +here, because they are building a railway across the valley. So our +people have been buying land here at seventy roubles an acre and have +been running into debt with the Jew, and we shall see what comes of +it.' + +The girl meanwhile had been eating coarse bread, sharing it with the +dog. She now looked across to where the colonists were spreading +themselves over the fields. + +'We must go, father,' she said. + +'Yes, we must go; what do I owe you for the milk, gospodarz?' + +The peasant shrugged his shoulders. + +'If we were obliged to take money for a little thing like that, I +shouldn't have asked you.' + +'Well, God repay you!' + +'God speed you,' said Slimak and his wife. + +'Strange folk, those Germans,' he said, when they had slowly moved off. +'He is a clever man, yet he goes about in that little cart like an old +beggar.' + +'And the girl!' said Slimakowa, 'whoever heard of dragging an old man +about, as if you were a horse.' + +'They're not bad,' said Slimak, returning to his cottage. + +The conversation with the Germans had reassured him that they were not +as terrible as he had fancied. + +When Maciek went out after breakfast to plough the potato-fields, +Slimak slipped off. + +'You've got to put up the fence!' his wife called out after him. + +'That won't run away,' he answered, and banged the door, fearful lest +his wife should detain him. + +He crouched as he ran through the yard, wishing to attract her +attention as little as possible, and went stealthily up the hill to +where Maciek was perspiring over his ploughing. + +'How about those Swabians?' asked the labourer. + +Slimak sat down on the slope so that he could not be seen from the +cottage, and pulled out his pipe. + +'You might sit over there,' Maciek said, pointing with his whip to a +raised place; 'then I could smell the smoke.' + +'What's the good of the smoke to you? I'll give you my pipe to finish, +and meanwhile it does not grieve the old woman to see me sitting here +wasting my time.' He lit his pipe very deliberately, rested his elbows +on his knees and his head in his hands and looked into the valley, +watching the crowd of Germans. + +With their covered carts they had enclosed a square into which they had +driven their cattle and horses; inside and outside of this the people +were bustling about. Some put a portable manger on a stand and fed the +cows, others ran to the river with buckets. The women brought out their +saucepans and little sacks of vegetables and a crowd of children ran +down the ravine for fuel. + +'What crowds of children they have!' said Slimak; 'we have not as many +in the whole village.' + +'Thick as lice,' said Maciek. + +Slimak could not wonder enough. Yesterday the field had been empty and +quiet, to-day it was like a fair. People by the river, people in the +ravines, people on the fields, who chop the bushes, carry wood, make +fires, feed and water the animals! One man had already opened a +retail-shop on a cart and was obviously doing good business. The women +were pressing round him, buying salt, sugar, vinegar. Some young +mothers had made cradles of shawls, suspended on short pitchforks, and +while they were cooking with one hand they rocked the cradle with the +other. There was a veterinary surgeon, too, who examined the foot of a +lame horse, and a barber was shaving an old Swabian on the step of his +cart. + +'Do you notice how quickly they work? It's farther for them to fetch +the firewood than for us, yet we take half the day over it and they do +it before you can say two prayers.' + +'Oh! oh!' said Maciek, who seemed to feel this remark as an aspersion. + +'But, then, they work together, 'continued Slimak; 'when our people go +out in a crowd every one attends to his own business, and rests when he +likes or gets into the way of the others. But these dogs work together +as if they were used to each other; if one of them were to lie down on +the ground the others would cram work into his hand and stand over him +till he had finished it. Watch them yourself.' + +He gave his pipe to Maciek and returned to the cottage. + +'They are quick folk, those Swabians,' he muttered, 'and clever!' +Within half an hour he had discovered the two secrets of modern work: +organization and speed. + +About noon two colonists came to the gospodarstwo and asked Slimak to +sell them butter and potatoes and hay. He let them have the former +without bargaining, but he refused the hay. + +'Let us at least have a cartload of straw,' they asked with their +foreign accent. + +'I won't. I haven't got any.' + +The men got angry. + +'That scoundrel Hamer is giving us no end of trouble,' one cried, +dashing his cap on the ground; 'he told us we should get fodder and +everything at the farms. We can't get any at the manor either; the Jews +from the inn are there and won't stir from the place.' + +Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two +Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists +rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating +wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in +their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order. + +The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and +attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had +finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last +they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and +departed cheerfully. + +'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we +come to terms yet?' + +'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to +us of his own accord!' + +'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set +on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after +the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't +stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same +and to smooth things over.' + +'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?' +returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take +your land away from you.... I can't make you out!' + +'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob +me.' + +'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.' + +'That's God's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but +when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the +woodpeckers on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The +squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the +Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree +is still the tree.' + +The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her +demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'. + +'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you +the news.' + +She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on +his finger. + +'Oh, Lord!' she cried, when she had drained it, 'this is the judgment +day for some people in the village! You see, Gryb and Orzchewski had +always taken for granted that the colonists wouldn't come, and they had +meant to drive a little bargain between them and keep some of the best +land and settle Jasiek Gryb on it like a nobleman, and he was to marry +Orzchewski's Paulinka. You know, she had learnt embroidery from the +squire's wife, and Jasiek had been doing work in the bailiff's office +and now goes about in an overcoat on high-days and holidays and...give +me another thimbleful, or I shall feel faint and can't talk.... +Meanwhile, as I told you, the colonists had paid down half the money to +the Jew, and here they are, that's certain! When Gryb hears of it, he +comes and abuses Josel! "You cur of a Jew, you Caiaphas, you have +crucified Christ and now you are cheating me! You told me the Germans +wouldn't pay up, and here they are!" Whereupon Josel says: "We don't +know yet whether they will stay!" At first Gryb wouldn't listen and +shouted and banged his fists on the table, but at last Josel drew him +off to his room with Orzchewski, and they made some arrangement among +themselves.' + +'He's a fool,' said Slimak; 'he wasn't cute enough to buy the land, he +won't be able to cope with the Germans.' + +'Not cute enough?' cried the old woman. 'Give me a thimbleful...Josel's +clever enough, anyway...and his brother-in-law is even better...they'll +deal with the Swabians...I know what I know...give me a +thimbleful...give me a thim...' She became incoherent. + +'What was that she was saying?' asked Slimakowa. + +'The usual things she says when she's tipsy. She is in service with +Josel, so she thinks him almighty.' + +When night came, Slimak again went to look at the camp. The people had +retired under their awnings, the cattle were lying down inside the +square, only the horses were grazing in the fields and ravines. At +times a flame from the camp fires flared up, or a horse neighed; from +hour to hour the call of a sleepy watchman was heard. + +Slimak returned and threw himself on his bed, but could find no rest. +The darkness deprived him of energy, and he thought with fear of the +Germans who were so many and he but one. Might they not attack him or +set his house on fire? + +About midnight a shot rang out, followed by another. He ran into the +back-yard and came upon the equally frightened Maciek. Shouts, curses, +and the clatter of horses' hoofs came from beyond the river. Gradually +the noise subsided. + +Slimak learned in the morning from the colonists that horse-thieves had +stolen in among the horses. + +The peasant was taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in +the neighbourhood. + +The news of the attack spread like wildfire and was improved upon in +every village. It was said that there was a gang of horse-stealers +about, who removed the horses to Prussia; that the Germans had fought +with them all night, and that some had been killed. + +At last these rumours reached the ears of the police-sergeant, who +harnessed his fat mare, put a small cask and some empty bags into his +cart, and drove off in pursuit of the thieves. + +The Germans treated him to smoked ham and excellent brandy, and Fritz +Hamer explained that they suspected two discharged manor-servants, Kuba +Sukiennik and Jasiek Eogacz, of stealing the horses. + +'They have been arrested before for stealing locks off the doors, but +had to be released because there were no witnesses,' said the sergeant. +'Which of the gentlemen shot at them? Has he a licence to carry +firearms?' + +Hamer, seeing that the question was becoming ticklish, led him aside +and explained things so satisfactorily to him that he soon drove off, +recommending that watch should be kept, and that the colonists should +not carry firearms. + +'I suppose your farm will soon be standing, sir?' he asked. + +'In a month's time,' replied Hamer. + +'Capital!...we must make a day of it!' + +He drove on to the manor-house, where Hirschgold's agent was so +delighted to see him that he brought out a bottle of Crimean wine. On +the topic of thieves, however, he had no explanation to offer. + +'When I heard them shooting I at once snatched up my revolvers, one in +each hand, and I didn't close my eyes all night.' + +'And have you a licence to carry firearms?' + +'Why shouldn't I?' + +'For two?' + +'Oh well, the second is broken; I only keep it for show.' + +'How many workmen do you employ?' + +'About a hundred.' + +'Are all their passports in order?' + +The agent gave him a most satisfactory account as to this in his own +way and the sergeant took leave. + +'Be careful, sir,' he recommended, 'once robbery begins in the village +it will be difficult to stop it. And in case of accident you will do +well to let me know first before you do anything.' He said this so +impressively that the agent henceforward took the two Jews from the +manor-house to sleep in the bailiff's cottage. + +Slimak's gospodarstwo was the sergeant's next destination. Slimakowa +was just pouring out the peeled-barley soup when the stout +administrator of the law entered. + +'The Lord be praised,' he said. 'What news?' + +'In Eternity. We are all right.' + +The sergeant looked round. + +'Is your husband at home?' + +'Where else should he be? Fetch your father, Jendrek.' + +'Beautiful barley; is it your own?' + +'Of course it is.' + +'You might give me a sackful. I'll pay you next time I come.' + +'I'll get the bag at once, sir.' + +'Perhaps you can sell me a chicken as well?' + +'We can.' + +'Mind it's tender, and put it under the box.' + +Slimak came in. 'Have you heard, gospodarz, who it was that tried to +steal the horses?' + +'How should I know?' + +'They say in the village that it was Sukiennik and Rogacz.' + +'I don't know about that. I have heard they cannot find work here, +because they have been in prison.' + +'Have you got any vodka? The dust makes one's throat dry.' + +Vodka and bread and cheese were brought. + +'You'd better be careful,' he said, when he departed, 'for they will +either rob you or suspect you.' + +'By God's grace no one has ever robbed me, and it will never happen.' + +The sergeant went to Josel, who received him enthusiastically. He +invited him into the parlour and assured him that all his licences were +in order. + +'There is no signboard at the gate.' + +'I'll put one up at once of whatever kind you like,' said the innkeeper +obsequiously, and ordered a bottle of porter. + +The sergeant now opened the question of the night-attack. + +'What night-attack?' jeered Josel. 'The Germans shot at one another and +then got frightened and made out that there was a gang of robbers +about. Such things don't happen here.' + +The sergeant wiped his moustache. 'All the same Sukiennik and Rogacz +have been after the horses.' + +Josel made a wry face. 'How could they, when they were in my house that +night.' + +'In your house?' + +'To be sure,' Josel answered carelessly. 'Gryb and Orzchewski both saw +them...dead drunk they were. What are they to do? they can't get +regular work, and what a man perchance earns in a day he likes to drink +away at night.' + +'They might have got out.' + +'They might, but the stable was locked and the key with the foreman.' +The conversation passed on to other topics. + +'Look after Sukiennik and Rogacz,' the sergeant said, on his departure, +when he and his mare had been sufficiently rested. + +'Am I their father, or are they in my service?' + +'They might rob you.' + +'Oh! I'll see to that all right!' + +The sergeant returned home, half asleep, half awake. Sukiennik and +Rogacz kept passing before his vision; they had their hands full of +locks and were surrounded by horses. Josel's smiling face was hovering +over them and now and then old Gryb and his son Jasiek jeered from +behind a cloud. He sat up...startled. But there was nothing near him +except the white hen under the box and the trees by the wayside. He +spat. + +'Bah...dreams!' he muttered. + +The peasants were relieved when day after day passed and there was no +sign of building in the camp. They jumped to the conclusion that either +the Germans had not been able to come to terms with Hirschgold, or had +quarrelled with the Hamers, or that they had lost heart because of the +horse-thieves. + +'Why, they haven't so much as measured out the ground!' cried +Orzchewski, and washed down the remark with a huge glass of beer. + +He had, however, not yet wiped his mouth when a cart pulled up at the +inn and the surveyor alighted. They knew him directly by his +moustaches, which were trimmed to the resemblance of eels, and by his +sloeberry-coloured nose. + +While Gryb and Orzchewski sorrowfully conducted each other home, they +comforted themselves with the thought that the surveyor might only be +spending the night in the village on his way elsewhere. + +'God grant it, I want to see that young scamp of a Jasiek settled and +married, and if I let him out of my sight he goes to the dogs +directly.' + +'My Paulinka is a match for him; she'll look after him!' + +'You don't know what you're talking of, neighbour; it will take the +three of us to look after him. Lately he hasn't spent a single night at +home, and sometimes I don't see him for a week.' + +The surveyor started work in the manor-fields the next morning, and for +several days was seen walking about with a crowd of Germans in +attendance on all his orders, carrying his poles, putting up a portable +table, providing him with an umbrella or a place in the shade where he +could take long pulls out of his wicker flask. The peasants stood +silently watching them. + +'I could measure as well as that if I drank as much as he does,' said +one of them. + +'Ah, but that is why he is a surveyor,' said another, 'because he has a +strong head.' + +No sooner had he departed than the Germans drove off and returned with +heavy cartloads of building materials. One fine day a small troop of +masons and carpenters appeared with their implements. A party of +colonists went out to meet them, followed by a large crowd of women and +children. They met at an appointed place, where refreshments and a +barrel of beer had been provided. + +Old Hamer, in a faded drill-jacket, Fritz in a black coat, and Wilhelm, +adorned with a scarlet waistcoat with red flowers, were busy welcoming +the guests; Wilhelm had charge of the barrel of beer. + +Maciek had noticed these preparations and gave the alarm, and all the +inhabitants of the gospodarstwo watched the proceedings with the +keenest interest. They saw old Hamer taking up a stake and driving it +into the ground with a wooden hammer. + +'Hoch!...Hoch!' shouted the workmen. Hamer bowed, took a second stake +and carried it northwards, accompanied by the crowd. The women and +children were headed by the schoolmaster in his little cart. He now +lifted his cap high into the air, and at this sign the whole crowd +started to sing Luther's hymn: + + 'A stronghold sure our God remains, + A shield and hope unfailing, + In need His help our freedom gains, + O'er all our fear prevailing; + Our old malignant foe + Would fain work us woe; + With craft and great might + He doth against us fight, + On earth is no one like him.' + +At the first note Slimak had taken off his cap, his wife crossed +herself, and Maciek stepped aside and knelt down. Stasiek, with +wide-open eyes, began to tremble, and Jendrek started running down the +hill, waded through the river, and headed at full speed for the camp. + +While Hamer was driving the stake into the ground the procession, +slowly coming up to him, continued: + + 'Our utmost might is all in vain, + We straight had been rejected, + But for us fights the perfect Man + By God Himself elected; + Ye ask: Who may He be? + The Lord Christ is He! + The God, by hosts ador'd, + Our great Incarnate Lord, + Who all His foes will vanquish.' + +Never had the peasants heard a hymn like this, so solemn, yet so +triumphant, they who only knew their plainsongs, which rose to heaven +like a great groan: 'Lord, we lay our guilt before Thine eyes.' + +A cry from Stasiek roused the parents from their reverie. + +'Mother...mother...they are singing!' stammered the child; his lips +became blue, and he fell to the ground. + +The frightened parents lifted him up and carried him into the cottage, +where he recovered when the singing ceased. They had always known that +the singing at church affected him very deeply, but they had never seen +him like this. + +Jendrek, meanwhile, although wet through and cold, stood riveted by the +spectacle he was watching. Why were these people walking and singing +like this? Surely, they wanted to drive away some evil power from their +future dwellings, and, not having incense or blessed chalk, they were +using stakes. Well, after all, a club of oakwood was better against the +devil than chalk! Or were they themselves bewitching the place? + +He was struck with the difference in the behaviour of the Germans. The +old men, women, and children were walking along solemnly, singing, but +the young fellows and the workmen stood in groups, smoking and +laughing. Once they made a noisy interruption when Wilhelm Hamer, who +presided at the beer-barrel, lifted up his glass. The young men shouted +'Hoch! hurrah!' Old Hamer looked round disapprovingly, and the +schoolmaster shook his fist. + +As the procession drew near, Jendrek heard a woman's voice above the +children's shrill trebles, Hamer's guttural bass and the old people's +nasal tones; it was clear, full, and inexpressively moving. It made his +heart tremble within him. The sounds shaped themselves in his +imagination to the picture of a beautiful weeping-willow. + +He knew that it must be the voice of the schoolmaster's daughter, whom +he had seen before. At that time the dog had engaged his attention more +than the girl, but now her voice took entire possession of the boy's +soul, to the exclusion of everything else he heard or saw. He, too, +wanted to sing, and began under his breath: + + 'The Lord is ris'n to-day. + The Lord Jesus Christ...' + +It seemed to fit in with the melody which the Germans were just +singing. + +He was roused from this state by the young men's voices; he caught +sight of the schoolmaster's daughter and unconsciously moved towards +her. But the young man soon brought him to his senses. They pulled his +hat over his ears, pushed him into the middle of the crowd, and, wet, +smeared with sand, looking more like a scarecrow than a boy, he was +passed from hand to hand like a ball. Suddenly his eyes met those of +the girl, and a wild spirit awoke in him. He kicked one young man over +with his bare legs, tore the shirt off another one's back, butted old +Hamer in the stomach, and then stood with clenched fists in the space +he had cleared, looking where he might break through. Most of the men +laughed at him, but some were for handling him roughly. Fortunately old +Hamer recognized him. + +'Why, youngster, what are you up to?' + +'They're bullying me,' he said, while the tears were rising in his +throat. + +'Don't you come from that cottage? What are you doing here?' + +'I wanted to listen to your singing, but those scoundrels...' + +He stopped suddenly when he saw the grey eyes of the schoolmaster's +daughter fixed on him. She offered him the glass of beer she had been +drinking from. + +'You are wet through,' she said. 'Take a good pull.' + +'I don't want it,' said the boy, and felt ashamed directly; it did not +seem well-mannered to speak rudely to one so beautiful. + +'I might get tipsy...' he cried, but drained the glass, looked at her +again and blushed so deeply that the girl smiled sadly as she looked at +him. + +At that moment violins and cellos struck up; Wilhelm Hamer came heavily +bounding along and took the girl away to dance. Her yearning eyes once +more rested on Jendrek's face. + +He felt that something strange was happening to him. A terrible anger +and sorrow gripped him by the throat; he wanted to throw himself on +Wilhelm and tear his flowered waistcoat off his back; at the same time +he wanted to cry aloud. Suddenly he turned to go. + +'Are you going?' asked the schoolmaster. 'Give my compliments to your +father.' + +'And you can tell him from me that I have rented the field by the river +from Midsummer Day,' Hamer called after him. + +'But dad rented it from the squire!' Hamer laughed...'The squire! We +are the squires now, and the field is mine.' + +As Jendrek neared the road he came upon a peasant, hidden behind a +bush, who had been watching. It was Gryb. + +'Be praised,' said Jendrek. + +'Who's praised at your place?' growled the old man; 'it must be the +devil and not the Lord, since you are taking up with the Germans.' + +'Who's taking up with them?' + +The peasant's eyes flashed and his dry skin quivered. + +'You're taking up with them!' he cried, shaking his fist, 'or perhaps I +didn't see you running off to them like a dog through the water to +cadge for a glass of beer, nor your father and mother on the hill +praying with the Swabians...praying to the devil! God has punished them +already, for something has fallen on Stasiek. There will be more to +come...you wait!' + +Jendrek slowly walked home, puzzled and sad. When he returned to the +cottage, he found Stasiek lying ill. He told his father what Gryb had +said. + +'He's an old fool,' replied Slimak. 'What! should a man stand like a +beast when others are praying, even if they are Swabians?' + +'But their praying has bewitched Stasiek.' Slimak looked gloomy. + +'Why should it have been their prayers? Stasiek is easily upset. Let a +woman but sing in the fields and he'll begin to shake all over.' + +The matter ended there. Jendrek tried to busy himself about the +cottage, but he felt stifled indoors. He roamed about in the ravines, +stood on the hill and watched the Germans, or forced his way through +brambles. Wherever he went, the image of the schoolmaster's daughter +went with him; he saw her tanned face, grey eyes, and graceful +movements. Sometimes her powerful, entrancing voice seemed to come to +him as from a depth. + +'Has she cast a spell over me?' he whispered, frightened, and continued +to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Slimak had never been so well off as he was that spring; money was +flowing into his chest while he took his leisure and looked around him +at all the new things. + +Formerly, after a heavy day, he had thrown himself on his bed and had +scarcely fallen asleep like a stone when his wife would pull the cover +off him, crying: 'Get up, Josef; it is morning.' + +'How can it be morning?' he thought; 'I've only just lain down.' All +the same he had to gather his bones together, when each one +individually held to the bed; willy-nilly he had to get up. So hard was +the resolution sometimes, that he even thought with pleasure of the +eternal sleep, when his wife would no longer stand over him and urge: +'Get up, wash...you'll be late; they'll take it off your wages.' + +Then he would dress, and drag the equally tired horses out of the +stable, so overcome with sleep that he would pause on the threshold and +mutter, 'I shall stay at home!' But he was afraid of his wife, and he +also knew very well that he could not make both ends meet at the +gospodarstwo without his wages. + +Now all that was different. He slept as long as he liked. Sometimes his +wife pulled him by the leg from habit and said: 'Get up, Josef.' But, +opening only one eye, lest sleep should run away from him, he would +growl: 'Leave me alone!' and sleep, maybe, till the church bell rang +for Mass at seven o'clock. + +There was really nothing to get up for now. Maciek had long ago +finished the spring-work in the fields; the Jews had left the village, +carrying their business farther afield, following the new railway line +now under construction, and no one sent for him from the manor--for +there was no manor. He smoked, strolled about for days together in the +yard, or looked at the abundantly sprouting corn. His favourite +pastime, however, was to watch the Germans, whose habitations were +shooting up like mushrooms. + +By the end of May Hamer and two or three others had finished building, +and their gospodarstwos were pleasant to look at. They resembled each +other like drops of water; each one stood in the middle of its fields, +the garden was by the roadside, shut off by a wooden fence; the house, +roughcast, consisted of four large rooms, and behind it was a +good-sized square of farm-buildings. + +All the buildings were larger and loftier than those of the Polish +peasants, and were clean and comfortable, although they looked stiff +and severe; for while the roofs of the Polish gospodarstwos overhung on +the four sides, those of the Germans did so only at the front and back. + +But they had large windows, divided into six squares, and the doors +were made by the carpenter. Jendrek, who daily ran over to the +settlement reported that there were wooden floors, and that the kitchen +was a separate room with an iron-plated stove. + +Slimak sometimes dreamt that he would build a place like that, only +with a different roof. Then he would jump up, because he felt he ought +to go somewhere and do work, for he was bored and ashamed of idling; at +times he would long for the manor-fields over which he had guided the +plough, where the settlement now stood. Then a great fear would seize +him that he would be powerless when the Germans, who had felled +forests, shattered rocks and driven away the squire, should start on +him in earnest. + +But he always reassured himself. He had been neighbours with them now +for two months and they had done him no harm. They worked quietly, +minded their cattle so that they should not stray, and even their +children were not troublesome, but went to school at Hamer's house, +where the infirm schoolmaster kept them in order. + +'They are respectable people,' he satisfied himself. 'I'm better off +with them than with the squire.' + +He was, for they bought from him and paid well. In less than a month he +had taken a hundred roubles from them; at the manor this had meant a +whole year's toil. + +'Do you think, Josef, that the Germans will always go on buying from +you?' his wife asked from time to time. 'They have their own +gospodarstwos now, and better ones than yours; you will see, it will +last through the summer at the best, and after that they won't buy a +stick from us.' + +'We shall see,' said the peasant. + +He was secretly counting on the advantages which he would reap from the +building of the new line; had not the engineer promised him this? He +even laid in provisions with this object, having to go farther afield, +for the peasants in the village would no longer sell him anything. + +But he soon realized that prices had risen; the Germans had long ago +scoured the neighbourhood and bought without bargaining. + +Once he met Josel who, instead of smiling maliciously at him as usual, +asked him to enter into a business transaction with him. + +'What sort of business?' asked Slimak. + +'Build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He wants to set up a shop and deal with the railway people, else the +Germans will take away all the business from under our noses.' + +Slimak reflected. + +'No, I don't want a Jew on my land,' he said. 'I shouldn't be the first +to be eaten up by you longcurls.' + +'You don't want to live with a Jew, but you are not afraid to pray with +the Germans,' said the Jew, pale with anger. + +Slimak was made to feel the profound unpopularity he had incurred in +the village. At church on Sundays hardly anyone answered him 'In +Eternity', and when he passed a group he would hear loud talk of +heresy, and God's judgment which would follow. + +He therefore ordered a Mass one Sunday, on the advice of his wife, and +went to confession with her and Jendrek; but this did not improve +matters, for the villagers discussed over their beer in the evening +what deadly sin he might have been guilty of to go to confession and +pray so fervently. + +Even old Sobieska rarely appeared and came furtively to ask for her +vodka. Once, when her tongue was loosened, she said: 'They say you have +turned into a Lutheran...It's true,' she added, 'there is only one +merciful God, still, the Germans are a filthy thing!' + + + +The Germans now began mysteriously to disappear with their carts at +dawn of day, carrying large quantities of provisions with them. Slimak +investigated this matter, getting up early himself. Soon he saw a tiny +yellow speck in the direction which they had taken. It grew larger +towards evening, and he became convinced that it was the approaching +railway line. + +'The scoundrels!' he said to his wife, 'they've been keeping this +secret so as to steal a march on me, but I shall drive over.' + +'Well, look sharp!' cried his wife; 'those railway people were to have +been our best customers.' + +He promised to go next day, but overslept himself, and Slimakowa barely +succeeded in driving him off the day after. + +He gathered some information on the way from the peasants. Many of them +had volunteered for work, but only a few had been taken on, and those +had soon returned, tired out. + +'It's dogs' work, not men's,' they told him; 'yet it might be worth +your while taking the horses, for carters earn four roubles a day.' + +'Four roubles a day!' thought Slimak, laying on to the horses. + +He drove on smartly and soon came alongside the great mounds of clay on +which strangers were at work, huge, strong, bearded men, wheeling large +barrows. Slimak could not wonder enough at their strength and industry. + +'Certainly, none of our men would do this,' he thought. + +No one paid any attention to him or spoke to him. At last two Jews +caught sight of him and one asked: 'What do you want, gospodarz?' The +embarrassed peasant twisted his cap in his hands. + +'I came to ask whether the gentlemen wanted any barley or lard?' + +'My dear man,' said the Jew, 'we have our regular contractors; a nice +mess we should be in, if we had to buy every sack of barley from the +peasants!' + +'They must be great people,' thought Slimak, 'they won't buy from the +peasants, they must be buying from the gentry.' + +So he bowed to the ground before the Jew, who was on the point of +walking away. + +'I entreat the favour of being allowed to cart for the gentlemen.' + +This humility pleased the Jew. + +'Go over there, my dear fellow,' he said, 'perhaps they will take you +on.' + +Slimak bowed again and made his way through the crowd with difficulty. +Among other carts he saw those of the settlers. + +Fritz Hamer came forward to meet him; he seemed to be in a position of +some authority there. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I want a job too.' The settler frowned. + +'You won't get one here!' + +Seeing that Slimak was looking round, he went to the inspector and +spoke to him. + +'No work for carters,' the latter at once shouted, 'no work! As it is +we have too many, you are only getting in people's way. Be off!' The +brutal way in which this order was given so bewildered the peasant +that, in turning, he almost upset his cart; he drove off at full speed, +feeling as if he had offended some great power which had worked enough +destruction already and was now turning hills into valleys and valleys +into hills. + +But gradually he reflected more calmly. People from the village had +been taken on, and he remembered seeing peasants' carts at the +embankment. Why had he been driven away? + +It was quite clear that some one wished to shut him out. + +'Curse the Judases, they're outdoing the Jews,' he muttered and felt a +horror of the Germans for the first time. + +He told his wife briefly that there was no work, and betook himself to +the settlement. Old Hamer seemed to be in the middle of a heated +argument with Hirschgold and two other men. When he caught sight of the +peasant he took them into the barn. + +'Sly dog,' murmured Slimak; 'he knows what I've come for. I'll tell him +straight to his face when he comes out.' + +But at every step his courage failed him more and more. He hesitated +between his desire to turn back and his unwillingness to lose a job; he +hung about the fences, and looked at the women digging in their +gardens. A murmur like the hum of a beehive caught his ears: one of the +windows in Hamer's house was open and he looked into a schoolroom. + +One of the children was reciting something in a clamorous voice, the +others were talking under their breath. The schoolmaster was standing +in the middle of the room, calling out 'Silence!' from time to time. + +When he saw Slimak, he beckoned to his daughter to take his place, and +the hubbub of voices increased. Slimak watched her trying to cope with +the children. + +The schoolmaster came up behind him, walking heavily. + +'Did you come to see how we teach our children?' he asked, smilingly. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Slimak; 'I've come to tell Hamer that he is +a scoundrel.' He related his experience. + +'What have I done?' he asked. 'Soon I may not be able to earn anything; +is one to starve because it pleases them?' + +'The truth is,' said the schoolmaster, 'that you are a thorn in their +flesh.' + +'Why?' + +'Your land is right in the middle of Hamer's fields and that spoils his +farm, but that is not the reason as much as your hill; he wants it for +a windmill. They have nothing but level ground; it's the best land in +the settlement, but no good for a windmill; if they don't put it up, +one of the other settlers will.' + +'And why are they so crazy after a windmill?' + +'Well, it matters a great deal to them; if Wilhelm had a windmill he +could marry Miller Knap's daughter from Wolka and get a thousand and +twenty roubles with her; the Hamers may go bankrupt without that money. +That's why you stick in their throats. If you sold them your land they +would pay you well.' + +'And I won't sell! I will neither help them to stay here nor do myself +harm for their benefit; when a man leaves the land of his fathers...' + +'There will be trouble,' the schoolmaster said earnestly. + +'Then let there be; I won't die because it pleases them.' + +Slimak returned home without any further wish to see Hamer; he knew +there could be no understanding between them. + + + +Maciek had discovered at dawn one morning that a crowd had reached the +river-bank by the ravines, and Slimak, hurrying thither, found some +gospodarze from the village among the men. + +'What is happening?' + +'They are going to throw up a dam and build a bridge across the +Bialka,' Wisniewski replied. + +'And what are you doing here?' + +'We have been taken on to cart sand.' + +Slimak discovered the Hamers in the crowd. + +'Nice neighbours you are!' he said bitterly, going up to them. 'Here +you are sending all the way to the village for carts, and you won't let +me have a job.' + +'We will send for you when you are living in the village,' Fritz +answered, and turned his back. + +An elderly gentleman was standing near them, and Slimak turned to him +and took off his cap. + +'Is this justice, sir?' he said. 'The Germans are getting rich on the +railway, and I don't earn a kopek. Last year two gentlemen came and +promised that I should make a lot of money. Well, your honours are +building the railway now, but I've never yet taken my horses out of the +stable. A German with thirty acres of ground is having a good job, and +I have only ten acres and a wife and children to keep, as well as the +farmhand and the girl. We shall have to starve, and it's all because +the Germans have a grudge against me.' + +He had spoken rapidly and breathlessly, and after a moment of surprise +the old man turned to Fritz Hamer. + +'Why did you not take him on?' + +Fritz looked insolently at him. + +'Is it you who has to answer for the cartage or I? Will you pay my +fines when the men fail me? I take on those whom I can trust.' + +The old man bit his lip, but did not reply. + +'I can't help you, my brother,' he said; 'you shall drive me as often +as I come to this neighbourhood. It isn't much, but every little helps. +Where do you live?' + +Slimak pointed to his cottage; he was longing to speak further, but the +old man turned to give some orders, and the peasant could only embrace +his knees. + +Old Hamer waylaid him on the way back. + +'Do you see now how badly you have done for yourself? You will do even +worse, for Fritz is furious.' + +'God is greater than Fritz.' + +'Will you take seventy-five roubles an acre and settle on the other +side of the Bug? You will have twice as much land.' + +'I would not go to the other side of the Bug for double the money; you +go, if you like!' + +When the angry men were looking back at each other, the one was +standing with a stubborn face, his pipe between his clenched teeth, the +other with folded arms, smiling sadly. Each was afraid of the other. + +The embankment was growing slowly from west to east. Before long +thousands of carriages would roll along its line with the speed of +birds, to enrich the powerful, shatter the poor, spread new customs and +manners, multiply crime...all this is called 'the advancement of +civilization'. But Slimak knew nothing of civilization and its boons, +and therefore looked upon this outcome of it as ominous. The +encroaching line seemed to him like the tongue of some vast reptile, +and the mounds of earth to forebode four graves, his own and those of +his wife and children. + +Maciek also had been watching its progress, which he considered an +entire revolution of the laws of nature. + +'It's a monstrous thing', he said, 'to heap up so much sand on the +fields near the river, and narrow the bed; when the Bialka swells, it +will overflow.' + +Slimak saw that the ends of the embankment were touching the river, but +as they had been strengthened by brick walls he took no alarm. +Nevertheless, it struck him that the Hamers were hurriedly throwing up +dams on their fields in the lower places. + +'Quick folk!' he thought, and contemplated doing the same, and +strengthening the dams with hurdles, as soon as he had cut the hay. It +occurred to him that he might do it now when he had plenty of time, +but, as usual, it remained a good intention. + +It was the beginning of July, when the hay had been cut and people were +gradually preparing for the harvest. Slimak had stacked his hay in the +backyard, but the Germans were still driving in stakes and throwing up +dams. + +The summer of that year was remarkable for great heat; the bees +swarmed, the corn was ripening fast, the Bialka was shallower than +usual, and three of the workmen died of sunstroke. Experienced farmers +feared either prolonged rain during the harvest or hail before long. +One day the storm came. + +The morning had been hot and sultry, the birds did not sing, the pigs +refused to eat and hid in the shade behind the farmbuildings; the wind +rose and fell, it blew now hot and dry, now cool and damp. By about ten +o'clock a large part of the sky was lined with heavy clouds, shading +from ashen-grey into iron-colour and perfect black; at times this sooty +mass, seeking an outlet upon the earth, burst asunder, revealing a +sinister light through the crevices. Then again the clouds lowered +themselves and drowned the tops of the forest trees in mists. But a hot +wind soon drove them upwards again and tore strips off them, so that +they hung ragged over the fields. + +Suddenly a fiery cloud appeared behind the village church; it seemed to +be flying at full speed along the railway embankment, driven by the +west wind; at the same time the north wind sprang up and buffeted it +from the side; dust flew up from the highroads and sandhills, and the +clouds began to growl. + +When they heard the sound, the workmen left their tools and barrows, +and filed away in two long detachments, one to the manor-house, the +other to their huts. The peasants and settlers turned the sand out of +their carts with all speed and galloped home. The cattle were driven in +from the fields, the women left their gardens; every place became +deserted. + +Thunderclap after thunderclap announced ever-fresh legions pressing +into the sky and obscuring the sun. It seemed as if the earth were +cowering in their presence, as a partridge cowers before the hovering +hawk. The blackthorn and juniper bushes called to caution with a low, +swishing noise; the troubled dust hid in the corn, where the young ears +whispered to each other; the distant forests murmured. + +High above, in the overcharged clouds, an evil force, with strong +desire to emulate the Creator, was labouring. It took the limp element +and formed an island, but before it had time to say, 'It is good', the +wind had blown the island away. It raised a gigantic mountain, but +before the summit had crowned it, the base had been blown from +underneath. Now it created a lion, now a huge bird, but soon only torn +wings and a shapeless torso dissolved into darkness. Then, seeing that +the works fashioned by the eternal hands endured, and that its own +phantom creations could not resist even the feeblest wind, the evil +spirit was seized with a great anger and determined to destroy the +earth. + +It sent a flash into the river, then thundered, 'Strike those fields +with hail! drench the hill!' And the obedient clouds flung themselves +down. The wind whistled the reveille, the rain beat the drum; like +hounds released from the leash the clouds bounded forward...downward, +following the direction to which the flashes of lightning pointed. The +evil spirit had put out the sun. + +After an hour's downpour the exhausted storm calmed down, and now the +roar of the Bialka could be distinctly heard. It had broken down the +banks, flooded the highroad and fields with dirty water and formed a +lake beyond the sandhills of the railway embankment. + +Soon, however, the storm had gathered fresh strength, the darkness +increased, lightning seemed to flash from all parts of the horizon; +perpendicular torrents of rain drowned the earth in sheets of mist. The +inmates of Slimak's cottage had gathered in the front room; Maciek sat +yawning on a corner of the bench, Magda, beside him, nursed the baby, +singing to it in a low voice; Slimakowa was vexed that the storm was +putting the fire out; Slimak was looking out of the window, thinking of +his crops. Jendrek was the only cheerful one; he ran out from time to +time, wetting himself to the skin, and tried to induce his brother or +Magda to join him in these excursions. + +'Come, Stasiek,' he cried, pulling him by the hand, 'it's such a warm +rain, it will wash you and cheer you up.' + +'Leave him alone,' said his father; 'he is peevish.' + +'And don't run out yourself,' added his mother, 'you are flooding the +whole room.... The Word was made Flesh,' she added under her breath, as +a terrific clap of thunder shook the house. Magda crossed herself; +Jendrek laughed and cried, 'What a din! there's another.... The Lord +Jesus is enjoying Himself, firing off....' + +'Be quiet, you silly,' called his mother; 'it may strike you!' + +'Let it strike!' laughed the boy boldly. 'They'll take me into the army +and shoot at me, but I don't mind!' He ran out again. + +'The rascal! he isn't afraid of anything,' Slimakowa said to her +husband with pride in her voice. Slimak shrugged his shoulders. + +'He's a true peasant.' + +Yet among that group of people with iron nerves there was one who felt +all the terror of this upheaval of the elements. How was it that +Stasiek, a peasant child, was so sensitive? + +Like the birds he had felt the coming storm, had roamed about +restlessly and watched the clouds, fancying that they were taking +council together, and he guessed that their intentions were evil. He +felt the pain of the beaten-down grass and shivered at the thought of +the earth being chilled under sheets of water. The electricity in the +air made his flesh tingle, the lightning dazzled him, and each clap of +thunder was like a blow on his head. It was not that he was afraid of +the storm, but he suffered under it, and his suffering spirit pondered, +'Why and whence do such terrible things come?' + +He wandered from the room to the alcove, from the alcove to the room, +as if he had lost his way, gazed absently out of the window and lay +down on the bench, feeling all the more miserable because no one took +any notice of him. + +He wanted to talk to Maciek, but he was asleep; he tried Magda and +found her absorbed in the baby; he was afraid of Jendrek's dragging him +out of doors if he spoke to him. At last he clung to his mother, but +she was cross because of the fire and pushed him away. + +'A likely thing I should amuse you, when the dinner is being spoilt!' +He roamed about again, then leant against his father's knee. + +'Daddy,' he said in a low voice, 'why is the storm so bad?' + +'Who knows?' + +'Is God doing it?' + +'It must be God.' + +Stasiek began to feel a little more cheerful, but his father happened +to shift his position, and the child thought he had been pushed away +again. He crept under the bench where Burek lay, and although the dog +was soaking wet, he pressed close to him and laid his head on the +faithful creature. + +Unluckily his mother caught sight of him. + +'Whatever's the matter with the boy?' she cried. 'Just you come away +from there, or the lightning will strike you! Out into the passage, +Burek!' + +She looked for a piece of wood, and the dog crept out with his tail +between his legs. Stasiek was left again to his restlessness, alone in +a roomful of people. Even his mother was now struck by his miserable +face and gave him a piece of bread to comfort him. He bit off a +mouthful, but could not swallow it and burst into tears. + +'Good gracious, Stasiek, what's the matter? Are you frightened?' + +'No.' + +'Then why are you so queer?' + +'It hurts me here,' he said, pointing to his chest. + +Slimak, who was depressed himself, thinking of his harvest, drew him to +his knee, saying: 'Don't worry! God may destroy our crop, but we won't +starve all the same. He is the smallest, and yet he has more sense than +the others,' he said, turning to his wife; 'he's worrying about the +gospodarstwo.' + +Gradually, as the storm abated, the roar of the river struck them +afresh. Slimak quickly drew on his boots. + +'Where are you going?' asked his wife. + +'Something's wrong outside.' + +He went and returned breathlessly. + +'I say! It's just as I thought.' + +'Is it the corn?' + +'No, that hasn't suffered much, but the dam is broken.' + +'Jesus! Jesus!' + +'The water is up to our yard. Those scoundrel Swabians have dammed up +their fields, and that has taken some more off the hill.' + +'Curse them!' + +'Have you looked into the stable?' asked Maciek. + +'Is it likely I shouldn't? There's water in the stable, water in the +cowshed, look! even the passage is flooded; but the rain is stopping, +we must bale out.' + +'And the hay?' + +'That will dry again if God gives fine weather.' + +Soon the entire household were baling in the house and farm-buildings; +the fire was burning brightly, and the sun peeped out from behind the +clouds. + +On the other bank of the river the Germans were at work. Barelegged, +and armed with long poles, they waded carefully through the flooded +fields towards the river to catch the drifting logs. + +Stasiek was calming down; he was not tingling all over now. From time +to time he still fancied he heard the thunder, and strained his ears, +but it was only the noise of the others baling with wooden grain +measures. There was much commotion in the passage where Jendrek pushed +Magda about instead of baling. + +'Steady there,' cried his mother, 'when I get hold of something hard +I'll beat you black and blue!' + +But Jendrek laughed, for he could tell by a shade in her voice that she +was no longer cross. + +Courage returned to Stasiek's heart. Supposing he were to peep out into +the yard... would there still be a terrible black cloud? Why not try? +He put his head out of the back door and saw the blue sky flecked with +little white clouds hurrying eastwards. The cock was flapping his wings +and crowing, heavy drops were sparkling on the bushes, golden streaks +of sunlight penetrated into the passage, and bright reflections from +the surface of the waters beckoned to him. + +He flew out joyfully through the pools of water, delighting in the +rainbow-coloured sheaves that were spurting from under his feet; he +stood on a plank and punted himself along with a stick, pretending that +he was sailing in deep water. + +'Come, Jendrek!' he called. + +'Stop here and go on baling,' called out Slimakowa. + +The Germans were still busy landing wood; whenever they got hold of a +specially large piece they shouted 'Hurrah!' Suddenly some big logs +came floating down, and this raised their enthusiasm to such a pitch +that they started singing the 'Wacht am Rhein'. For the first time in +his life Stasiek, who was so sensitive to music, heard a men's chorus +sung in parts. It seemed to melt into one with the bright sun; both +intoxicated him; he forgot where he was and what he was doing, he stood +petrified. Waves seemed to be floating towards him from the river, +embracing and caressing him with invisible arms, drawing him +irresistibly. He wanted to turn towards the house or call Jendrek, but +he could only move forward, slowly, as in a dream, then +faster...faster; he ran, and disappeared down the hill. + +The men were singing the third verse of the 'Wacht am Rhein', when they +suddenly stopped and shouted: + +'Help...help!' + +Slimak and Maciek had stopped in their work to listen to the singing; +the sudden cries surprised them, but it was the labourer who was seized +with apprehension. + +'Run, gospodarz,' he said; 'something's up.' + +'Eh! something they have taken into their heads!' + +'Help!' the cry rose again. + +'Never mind, run, gospodarz,' the man urged; 'I can't keep up with you, +and something....' + +Slimak ran towards the river, and Maciek painfully dragged himself +after him. Jendrek overtook him. + +'What's up? Where is Stasiek?' + +Maciek stopped and heard a powerful voice calling out: + +'That's the way you look after your children, Polish beasts!' + +Then Slimak appeared on the hill, holding Stasiek in his arms. The +boy's head was resting on his shoulder, his right arm hung limply. +Dirty water was flowing from them both. Slimak's lips were livid, his +eyes wide open. Jendrek ran towards him, slipped on the boggy hillside, +scrambled up and shouted in terror: 'Daddy...Stasiek...what....' + +'He's drowned!' + +'You are mad,' cried the boy; 'he's sitting on your arm!' + +He pulled Stasiek by the shirt, and the boy's head fell over his +father's shoulder. + +'You see!' whispered Slimak. + +'But he was in the backyard a minute ago.' + +Slimak did not answer, he supported Stasiek's head and stumbled +forward. + +Slimakowa was standing in the passage, shading her eyes and waiting. + +'Well, what has he been up to now?... What's this? Has it fallen on +Stasiek again? Curse those Swabians and their singing!' + +She went up to the boy and, taking his hand, said in a trembling voice: + +'Never mind, Stasiek, don't roll your eyes like that, never mind! Come +to your senses, I won't scold you. Magda, fetch some water.' + +'He has had more than enough water,' murmured Slimak. + +The woman started back. + +'What's the matter with him? Why is he so wet?' + +'I have taken him out of the pool by the river.' + +'That little pool?' + +'The water was only up to my waist, but it did for him.' + +'Then why don't you turn him upside down? Maciek, take him by the +feet...oh, you clumsy fellows!' + +The labourer did not stir. She seized the boy herself by the legs. + +Stasiek struck the ground heavily with his hands; a little blood ran +from his nose. + +Maciek took the child from her and carried him into the cottage, where +he laid him down on the bench. They all followed him except Magda, who +ran aimlessly round the yard and then, with outstretched arms, on to +the highroad, crying: 'Help...help, if you believe in God!' She +returned to the cottage, but dared not go in, crouched on the threshold +with her head on her knees, groaning: 'Help...if you believe in God.' + +Slimak dashed into the alcove, put on his sukmana and ran out, he did +not know whither; he felt he must run somewhere. + +A voice seemed to cry to him: 'Father...father...if you had put up a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +And the man answered: 'It is not my fault; the Germans bewitched him +with their singing.' + +A cart was heard rattling on the highroad and stopped in front of the +cottage. The schoolmaster got out, bareheaded and with his rod in his +hand. 'How is the boy?' he called out, but did not wait for an answer +and limped into the cottage. + +Stasiek was lying on the bench, his mother was supporting his head on +her knees and whispering to herself: 'He's coming to, he's a little +warmer.' + +The schoolmaster nudged Maciek: 'How is he?' + +'What do I know? She says he's better, but the boy doesn't move, no, he +doesn't move.' + +The schoolmaster went up to the boy and told his mother to make room. +She got up obediently and watched the old man breathlessly, with open +mouth, sobbing now and then. Slimak peeped through the open window from +time to time, but he was unable to bear the sight of his child's pale +face. The schoolmaster stripped the wet clothes off the little body and +slowly raised and lowered his arms. There was silence while the others +watched him, until Slimakowa, unable to contain herself any longer, +pulled her hair down and then struck her head against the wall. + +'Oh, why were you ever born?' she moaned, 'a child of gold! He +recovered from all his illnesses and now he is drowned.... Merciful +God! why dost Thou punish me so? Drowned like a puppy in a muddy pool, +and no one to help!' + +She sank down on her knees, while the schoolmaster persevered for half +an hour, listening for the beating of the child's heart from time to +time, but no sign of life appeared and, seeing that he could do no +more, he covered the child's body with a cloth, silently said a prayer +and went out. Maciek followed him. + +In the yard he came upon Slimak; he looked like a drunken man. + +'What have you come here for, schoolmaster?' he choked. 'Haven't you +done us enough harm? You've killed my child with your singing...do you +want to destroy his soul too as it is leaving him, or do you mean to +bring a curse on the rest of us?' + +'What is that you are saying?' said the schoolmaster in amazement. + +The peasant stretched his arms and gasped for breath. + +'Forgive me, sir,' he said, 'I know you are a good man.... God reward +you,' he kissed his hand; 'but my Stasiek died through your fault all +the same: you bewitched him.' + +'Man!' cried the schoolmaster, 'are we not Christians like you? Do we +not put away Satan and his deeds as you do?' + +'But how was it he got drowned?' + +'How do I know? He may have slipped.' + +'But the water was so shallow he might have scrambled out, only your +singing...that was the second time it bewitched him so that something +fell on him...isn't it true, Maciek?' + +The labourer nodded. + +'Did the boy have fits?' asked the schoolmaster. + +'Never.' + +'And has he never been ill?' + +'Never.' + +Maciek shook his head. 'He's been ill since the winter.' + +'Eh?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm speaking the truth; Stasiek has been ill ever since he took a +cold; he couldn't run without getting out of breath; once I saw it fall +upon him while I was ploughing. I had to go and bring him round.' + +'Why did you never say anything about it?' + +'I did tell the gospodyni, but she told me to mind my own business and +not to talk like a barber.' + +'Well, you see,' said the schoolmaster, the boy was suffering from a +weak heart and that killed him; he would have died young in any case.' + +Slimak listened eagerly, and his consciousness seemed to return. + +'Could it be that?' he murmured. 'Did the boy die a natural death?' + +He tapped at the window and the woman came out, rubbing her swollen +eyes. + +'Why didn't you tell me that Stasiek had been ill since the winter, and +couldn't run without feeling queer?' + +'Of course he wasn't well,' she said; 'but what good could you have +done?' + +'I couldn't have done anything, for if he was to die, he was to die.' + +The mother cried quietly. + +'No, he couldn't escape; if he was to die he was to die; he must have +felt it coming to-day during the storm, when he went about clinging to +everyone...if only it had entered my head not to let him out of my +sight...if I had only locked him up....' + +'If his hour had come, he would have died in the cottage,' said the +schoolmaster, departing. + +Already resignation was entering into the hearts of those who mourned +for Stasiek. They comforted each other, saying that no hair falls from +our heads without God's will. + +'Not even the wild beasts die unless it is God's will,' said Slimak: 'a +hare may be shot at and escape, and then die in the open field, so that +you can catch it with your hands.' + +'Take my case,' said Maciek: 'the cart crushed me and they took me to +the hospital, and here I am alive; but when my hour has struck I shall +die, even if I were to hide under the altar. So it was with Stasiek.' + +'My little one, my comfort!' sobbed the mother. + +'Well, he wouldn't have been much comfort,' said Slimak; 'he couldn't +have done heavy farm work.' 'Oh, no!' put in Maciek. + +'Or handled the beasts.' + +'Oh, no!' + +'He would never have made a peasant; he was such a peculiar child, he +didn't care for farm work; all he cared for was roaming about and +gazing into the river.' + +'Yes, and he would talk to the grass and the birds, I have heard it +myself,' said Maciek, 'and many times have I thought: "Poor thing! what +will you do when you grow up? You'd be a queer fish even among +gentlefolk, but what will it be like for you among the peasants?"' + +In the evening Slimak carried Stasiek on to the bed in the alcove; his +mother laid two copper coins on his eyes and lit the candle in front of +the Madonna. + +They put down straw in the room, but neither of them could sleep; Burek +howled all night, Magda was feverish; Jendrek continually raised +himself from the straw, for he fancied his brother had moved. But +Stasiek did not move. + +In the morning Slimak made a little coffin; carpentering came so easily +to him that he could not help smiling contentedly at his own work now +and then. But when he remembered what he was doing, he was seized with +such passionate grief that he threw down his tools and ran out, he knew +not whither. + +On the third day Maciek harnessed the horses to the cart, and they +drove to the village church, Jendrek keeping close to the coffin and +steadying it, so that it should not rock. He even tapped, and listened +if his brother were not calling. + +But Stasiek was silent. He was silent when they drove to the church, +silent when the priest sprinkled holy water on him, silent when they +took him to his grave and his father helped the gravedigger to lower +him, and when they threw clods of earth upon him and left him alone for +the first time. + +Even Maciek burst into tears. Slimak hid his face in his sukmana like a +Roman senator and would not let his grief be looked upon. + +And a voice in his heart whispered: 'Father! father! if you had made a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +But he answered: 'I am not guilty; he died because his hour had come.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Autumn came with drab, melancholy stubble fields; the bushes in the +ravines turned red; the storks hastily left the barns and flew south; +in the few woods that remained, the birds were silent, human beings had +deserted the fields; only here and there some old German women in blue +petticoats were digging up the last potatoes. Even the navvies had +left, the embankment was finished, and they had dispersed all over the +world. Their place was taken by a light railway bringing rails and +sleepers. At first you were only aware of smoke in the distant west; in +a few days' time you discovered a chimney, and presently found that +that chimney was fixed to a large cauldron which rolled along without +horses, dragging after it a dozen wagons full of wood and iron. +Whenever it stopped men jumped out and laid down the wood, fastened the +iron to it and drove off again. These were the proceedings which Maciek +was watching daily. + +'Look, how clever that is,' he said to Slimak; 'they can get their load +uphill without horses. Why should we worry the beasts?' + +But when the cauldron came to a dead stop where the embankment ended by +the ravines and the men had taken out and disposed of the load, 'Now, +what will they do?' he thought. + +To the farm labourer's utter astonishment the cauldron gave a shrill +whistle and moved backwards with its wagons. + +Yes, there it was! Had not the Galician harvesters told him of an +engine that went by itself? Had they not drunk through his money with +which he was to buy boots? + +'To be sure, they told me true, it goes by itself; but it creeps like +old Sobieska,' he added, to comfort himself. Yet, deep down in his +heart he was afraid of this new contrivance and felt that it boded no +good to the neighbourhood. And though he reasoned inconsequently he was +right, for with the appearance of the railway engines there also came +much thieving. From pots and pans, drying on the fences, to horses in +the stables, nothing was safe. The Germans had their bacon stolen from +the larder; the gospodarz Marcinezak, who returned rather tipsy from +absolution, was attacked by men with blackened faces and thrown out of +his cart, with which the robbers drove off at breakneck speed. Even the +poor tailor Niedoperz, when crossing a wood, was relieved of the three +roubles he had earned with so much labour. + +The railway brought Slimak no luck either. It became increasingly +difficult to buy fodder for the animals, and no one now asked him to +sell his produce. The salted butter, and other produce of which he had +laid in a stock, went bad, and they had to eat the fowls themselves. +The Germans did all the trading with the railway men, and even in the +little town no one looked at the peasant's produce. + +So Slimak sat in his room and did no work. Where should he find work? +He sat by the stove and pondered. Would things continue like this? +would there always be too little hay? would no one buy from him? would +there be no end to the thieving? What was not under lock and key in the +farm-buildings was no longer safe. + +Meanwhile the Germans drove about for miles in all directions and sold +all that they produced. + +'Things are going badly,' said Slimakowa. + +'Eh...they'll get straight again somehow,' he answered. + +Gradually poor Stasiek was forgotten. Sometimes his mother laid one +spoon too many, and then wiped her eyes with her kerchief, sometimes +Magda thoughtlessly called Jendrek by his brother's name or the dog +would run round the buildings looking for some one, and then lay down +barking, with his head on the ground. But all this happened more and +more rarely. + +Jendrek had been restless since his brother's death; he did not like to +sit indoors when there was nothing to do, and roamed about. His rambles +frequently ended in a visit to the schoolmaster; out of curiosity he +examined the books, and as he knew some of the letters, the +schoolmaster's daughter amused herself by teaching him to spell. The +boy would purposely stumble over his words so that she should correct +him and touch his shoulder to point out the mistake. + +One day he took home a book to show what he had learnt, and his +overjoyed mother sent the schoolmaster's daughter a couple of fowls and +four dozen eggs. Slimak promised the schoolmaster five roubles when +Jendrek would be able to pray from a book and ten more when he should +have learnt to write. Jendrek was therefore more and more often at the +settlement, either busy with his lessons or else watching the girl +through the window and listening to her voice. But this happened to +annoy one of the young Germans, who was a relation of the Hamers. + +Under ordinary circumstances Jendrek's behaviour would have attracted +his parents' attention, but they were entirely engrossed in another +subject. Every day convinced them more firmly of the fact that they had +too little fodder and a cow too many. They did not say so to each +other, but no one in the house thought of anything else. The gospodyni +thought of it when she saw the milk get less in the pails, Magda had +forebodings and caressed the cows in turns, Maciek, when unobserved, +even deprived the horses of a handful of hay, and Slimak would stand in +front of the cowshed and sigh. + +It was he himself who one night broke this tacit understanding of +silence on the sad question which was becoming a crisis; he suddenly +awoke, sprang up and sat down on the edge of the bed. + +'What's the matter, Josef?' asked his wife. + +'Oh...I was dreaming that we had no fodder left and all the cows had +died.' + +'In the name of the Father and the Son...may you not have spoken that +in an evil hour!' + +'There is not enough fodder for five tails...it's no good pretending.' + +'Well, then, what will you do?' + +'How do I know?' + +'Perhaps one could...' + +'Maybe sell one of them...' finished the husband. + +The word had fallen. + +Next time Slimak went to the inn he gave Josel a hint, who passed it on +at once to two butchers in the little town. + +When they came to the cottage, Slimakowa refused to speak to them and +Magda began to cry. Slimak took them to the yard. + +'Well, how is it, gospodarz, you want to sell a cow?' + +'How can I tell?' + +'Which one is it? Let's see her.' + +Slimak said nothing, and Maciek had to take up the conversation. + +'If one is to be sold, it may as well be Lysa.' + +'Lead her out,' urged the butchers. + +Maciek led the unfortunate cow into the yard; she seemed astonished at +being taken out at such an unusual hour. + +The butchers looked her over, chattered in Yiddish and asked the price. + +'How do I know?' Slimak said, still irresolute. + +'What's the good of talking like that, you know as well as we do that +she's an old beast. We will give you fifteen roubles.' + +Slimak relapsed into silence, and Maciek had to do the bargaining; +after much shouting and pulling about of the cow, they agreed on +eighteen roubles. A rope was laid on her horns and the stick about her +shoulders, and they started. + +The cow, scenting mischief, would not go; first she turned back to the +cowshed and was dragged towards the highroad, then she lowed so +miserably that Maciek went pale and Magda was heard to sob loudly: the +gospodyni would not look out of the window. + +The cow finally planted herself firmly on the ground with her four feet +rigidly fixed, and looked at Slimak with rolling eyes as if to say: +'Look, gospodarz, what they are doing to me...for six years I have been +with you and have honestly done my duty, stand by me now.' + +Slimak did not move, and the cow at last allowed herself to be led +away, but when she had been plodding along for a little distance, he +slowly followed. He pressed the Jews' money in his hand and thought: + +'Ought I to have sold you? I should never have done it if the merciful +God had not been angry with us; but we might all starve.' + +He stood still, leant against the railings and turned all his +misfortunes over in his mind; now and then the thought that he might +still run and buy her back stole into his mind. + +He suddenly noticed that old Hamer had come close up to him. + +'Are you coming to see me, gospodarz?' he asked. + +'I'll come, if you will sell me fodder.' + +'Fodder won't help you. A peasant among settlers will always be at a +disadvantage,' said the old man, with his pipe between his teeth. 'Sell +me your land; I'll give you a hundred roubles an acre.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are mad, Pan Hamer, I don't know what you +mean. Isn't it enough that I am obliged to sell the beast? Now you want +me to sell everything. If you want me to leave, carry me out into the +churchyard. It is nothing to you Germans to move from place to place, +you are a roving people and have no country, but a peasant is like a +stone by the wayside. I know everything here by heart. I have moved +every clod of earth with my own hands; now you say: sell and go +elsewhere. Wherever I went I should be dazed and lost; when I looked at +a bush I should say: that did not grow at home; the soil would be +different and even the sun would not set in the same place. And what +should I tell my father if he were to come looking for me when it gets +too hot for him in Purgatory? He would ask me how I was to find his +grave again, and Stasiek's, poor Stasiek who has laid down his head, +thanks to you!' + +Hamer was trembling with rage. + +'What rubbish the man is talking!' he cried, 'have not numbers of +peasants settled afresh in Volhynia? His father will come looking for +him! ...You had better look out that you don't go to Purgatory soon +yourself for your obstinacy, and ruin me into the bargain. You are +ruining my son now, because I can't build him a windmill. Here I am +offering you a hundred roubles an acre, confound it all!' + +'Say what you like, but I won't sell you my land.' + +'You'll sell it all right,' said Hamer, shaking his fist, 'but I shan't +buy it; you won't last out a year among us.' + +He turned away abruptly. + +'And I don't want that lad to stroll in and out of the settlement,' he +called back, 'I don't keep a schoolmaster here for you!' + +'That's nothing to me; he needn't go if you grudge him the room.' + +'Yes, I grudge him the room,' the old man retorted viciously, 'the +father is a dolt, let the son be a dolt too.' + +Slimak's regret for the cow was drowned in his anger. 'All right, let +them cut her throat,' he thought, but remembering that the poor beast +could not help his quarrel with Hamer, he sighed. + +There were fresh lamentations at home; Magda was blubbering because she +had been given notice. Slimak sat down on the bench and listened to his +wife comforting the girl. + +'It's true, we are not short of food,' she said, 'but how am I to get +the money for your wages? You are a big girl and ought to have a rise +after the New Year. We haven't enough work for you; go to your uncle at +once, tell him how things are going from bad to worse here, and fall at +his feet and ask him to find you another place. Please God, you will +come back to us.' 'Ho,' murmured Maciek from his corner, 'there's no +returning; when you're gone, you're gone; first the cow, then Magda, +now my turn will come.' + +'Oh, you, Maciek, you will stay,' said Slimakowa, 'there must be some +one to look after the horses, and if we don't give you your wages one +year, you'll get them the next, but we can't do that to Magda, she is +young.' + +'That's true,' said Maciek on reflection, 'and it's kind of you to +think of the girl first.' + +Slimak was silently admiring his wife's good sense, but at the same +time he felt acute regret and apprehension at all these changes; +everything had been going on harmoniously for years, and now one day +sufficed to send both the cow and Magda away. + +'What shall I do?' he ruminated, 'shall I try to set up as a carpenter, +or shall I apply to his Reverence for advice? I might ask him at the +same time to say a Mass, but maybe he would say the Mass and not give +the advice. It will all come right; God strikes until His hand is +tired; then He looks down in favour again on those who suffer +patiently.' So he waited. + +Magda had found another situation by November; her place in the +gospodarstwo soon grew cold, no one thought or talked of her, and only +the gospodyni asked herself sometimes: 'Were there really a Stasiek in +this room once and a Magda pottering about, and three cows in the +shed?' + +Meanwhile the thieving increased. Slimak daily thought of putting bolts +and padlocks on the farm-buildings, or at least long poles in front of +the stable door. But whenever he reached for the hatchet, it always lay +too far off, or his arm was too short; anyhow he left it, and the +thought of buying padlocks when times were hard, made him feel quite +faint. He hid the money at the bottom of the chest so that it should +not tempt him. 'I must wait till the spring,' he thought; 'after all, +there are Maciek and Burek, they are sharp enough.' + +Burek confirmed this opinion by much howling. + +One very dark night, when sleet was falling, Maciek heard him barking +more furiously than usual, and attacking some one in the direction of +the ravines. He jumped up and waked Slimak; armed with hatchets they +waited in the yard. A heavy tread approached behind the barn as of some +one carrying a load. 'At them!' they urged Burek, who, feeling himself +backed up, attacked furiously. + +'Shall we go for them?' asked Maciek. + +Slimak hesitated. 'I don't know how many there are.' + +At that moment a light flashed up from the settlement, horses +clattered. Seeing that help was approaching, Slimak dashed behind the +barn and called out: 'Hey there! who are you?' + +Something heavy fell to the ground. + +'You wait! policeman for the Swabians, you shall soon know who we are!' +answered a voice in the darkness. + +'Catch him!' cried Slimak and Maciek simultaneously, but the thief had +escaped to the ravines. When the Germans on horseback came up, Slimak +lit a torch and ran behind the barn. A pig's carcass lay in a puddle. + +'That's our hog,' cried Fritz, 'they stole it from under our noses and +while there was a light in the house.' + +'Daredevils!' muttered Maciek. + +'To tell you the truth,' laughed Earner's farmhand, 'we thought it was +you who had done it.' + +'Go to the devil!' + +'Let's go after them,' Fritz interrupted quickly. + +'Go on! I... steal your hog! indeed!' + +'Let me go, father,' begged Jendrek. + +'Go indoors! We've saved them a hog and the thieves will revenge +themselves on us; and here they come and accuse me of being a thief +myself.' Fritz Hamer swore at the farm-hand for his clumsiness and +tried to pacify the peasant, but he turned his back on him. Fritz had +lost his zeal for pursuing the thieves, took up his hog and disappeared +into the darkness. + +After a few days the police-sergeant drove up, cross-examined every +one, explored the ravines, perspired, made himself muddy, and found no +one. He came to the very just conclusion that the thieves must have +escaped long ago. So he told Slimakowa to put some butter and a +speckled hen into his cart and returned home. + +The thieving stopped for a while, and winter came on. The ground was +warmly covered as with a sheepskin; ice as hard as flint froze on the +Bialka, the Lord wrapped the branches of the trees securely in shirts +of snow. But Slimak was still meditating on hasps and bolts. + +One evening, as he sat filling the room with smoke from his pipe, +shifting his feet and arriving at the second part of his meditations, +namely that 'What is done too soon is the devil's,' Jendrek excitedly +burst into the room. His mother was busy with the fire and paid no +attention to him, but his father noticed, although they were sparing of +light in the cottage, that his sukmana was torn and he looked bruised +and dishevelled. Looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, Slimak +emptied his pipe and said: 'Someone has been oxing your ears three +times over.' + +'I gave him one better,' said the boy scowling. + +As the mother had gone out and did not hear the conversation, the +father did not hurry himself; he cleaned his choked pipe, blew through +it and indifferently inquired, 'Who's been treating you this?' + +'That scoundrel, Hermann.' The boy was hitching up his shoulders as if +he had been stung. + +'And what were you doing at Earner's when you had been told not to go +there?' + +'I was looking at the schoolmaster through the window,' said Jendrek +blushing, and added quickly, 'That German dog ran out from the kitchen +and shouted: "You are spying about here, you thief!" "What have I +stolen?" I say, and he: "Nothing yet, but you will steal some day; be +off, or I'll box your ears." "Try!" I say. "I've tried before," says +he; "take this!"' + +'That was smart of the Swabian,' said Slimak, 'and did you do nothing +to him?' + +'Why should I do nothing to him? I snatched up a log and hit him over +the head two or three times, but the coward started bleeding and gave +in; I should have liked to have given him more, but they came running +out of their houses and I made off.' + +'So they didn't catch you?' + +'Bah, how can they catch me, when I run like a hare?' 'Confound the +boy,' said his mother, who had come in, 'the Swabians will beat him +small.' + +'He can always give them the slip,' said Slimak, lit his pipe, and +resumed his meditations on hasps and bolts. + +But these were interrupted the next afternoon by a visit from the +Hamers; their cousin, Hermann, had his head so tightly bandaged that +hardly anything was visible of his face. They stood outside the gate +and shouted to Maciek to call his master. Slimak hastily fastened his +belt and stepped out. 'What do you want?' he said. + +'We are going to the police-station to take out a summons against that +Jendrek of yours; look what he has done to Hermann; we have a +certificate from the surgeon that his injuries are serious.' + +'He came ogling the schoolmaster's daughter, now he shall ogle his +prison bars,' Hermann added thickly behind his bandages. + +Slimak was getting worried. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' he said, 'to take out a +summons for a bit of boy's nonsense; didn't Hermann box his ears too? +But we don't take out summonses for that sort of thing.' + +'Oh, rather! I gave it him,' mumbled Hermann, 'but where's the blood? +where's the doctor's certificate?' + +'You're a nice one,' said Slimak bitterly, 'there was no policeman to +certify that it was we who saved you the hog, but when a boy plays a +prank on you, you go to law.' + +'Perhaps with you a hog means as much as a man,' sneered Fritz; 'with +us it is different.' + +Slimak's meditations now turned from bolts and padlocks to prisons. He +talked the matter over with Maciek. + +'When they put our small Jendrek in Court by the side of that big +Hermann, I reckon they won't do much to him.' + +'They'll do nothing to him,' agreed the labourer. + +'All the same, I should like to know what the punishment is for +thrashing a man.' + +'They don't trouble their heads much about it. When Potocka beat her +neighbour over the head with a saucepan, they just fined her.' + +'That's true, but I am afraid they think more of the Germans than of +our people.' + +'How could they think more of unbelievers?' + +'Look at the police-sergeant, he talks to Hamer as he wouldn't even +talk to Gryb.' + +'That is so, but when he has looked round to see that no one is +listening, he tells you that a German is a mangy dog. You see, the +Germans have their Kaiser, but he's nothing like as great as our Czar; +I have it from a soldier who was in the hospital, and he used to say: +"Bah, he's nothing compared to ours!"' + +This greatly reassured Slimak, and he went to church with his wife and +son the next Sunday to find out what others, familiar with the ways of +the law, thought of the matter. Maciek remained at home to look after +the dinner and the baby. + +It was past noon when Burek began to bark furiously. Maciek looked out +and saw a man dressed like the townspeople standing at the gate; he had +pulled his cap well over his face. The farm-labourer went outside. + +'What's up?' + +'Take pity on us, gospodarz,' said the stranger, 'our sledge has broken +down close by, and I can't mend it, because they have stolen the +hatchet out of my basket last night.' + +Maciek looked doubtful. 'Have you come far?' + +'Twenty-five miles; my wife and I are driving twelve miles further. I +will give you good vodka and sausages if you will help us.' + +Maciek's suspicions lessened when vodka was mentioned. He shook his +head and crossed himself, but ultimately decided that one must help +one's neighbour, fetched the hatchet and went out with the stranger. + +He found a one-horse sledge standing near the farm. A woman, even more +smartly dressed than the man, sat huddled up in a corner; she blessed +Maciek in a tearful voice, but her husband did more, he poured out a +large tumblerful of vodka and offered it to the labourer, drinking to +his health first. Maciek apologized, as the ceremony demanded, then +took a long pull, till the tears came into his eyes. He set about +mending the sledge, and although it was a small job and did not take +him more than half an hour, the strangers thanked him extravagantly, +the woman gave him half a sausage and some roast pork, and the man +exclaimed: 'I have travelled far and wide, but I have never found a +more obliging peasant than you are, brother. I should like to leave you +a remembrance. Have you got a bottle?' + +'I think I could find one,' said Maciek, in a voice trembling with +delight. The man unceremoniously pushed his wife on one side and drew a +large bottle from underneath the seat. + +'We are off now,' he said, 'we will go to the gospodarstwo and you +shall give me some nails in case of another breakdown, and I will leave +you some of this cordial in return. Mind, if your head or your stomach +aches or you are worried and can't sleep, take a glassful of this: all +your worries will at once disappear. Take good care of it and don't on +any account give a drop away, it's a speciality; my grandfather got it +from the monks at Radecznica, it's as good as holy water.' + +Maciek went into the house, the stranger remained in the yard, looking +carelessly round the buildings, while Burek barked madly at him. At any +other time the dog's anger would have roused Maciek's suspicion, but +how could one think anything but well of a guest who had already given +vodka and sausages and who was offering more drink? He smilingly +offered a big-bellied bottle to the traveller, who poured half a pint +of the cordial into it, and when he took leave he repeated the warning +that it should be used only in case of need. + +Maciek stuffed a piece of rag into the neck of the bottle and hid it in +the stable. He felt a strong desire to taste the drink, if only a drop, +but he resisted. + +'Supposing I were to get ill... better keep it.' + +He rocked the baby to sleep and then woke her up again to tell her +about the hospital and his broken leg, about the travellers who had +left him such a magnificent present, but nothing could take his +thoughts away from the monks' cordial. The big-bellied bottle seemed to +hover over the pots and pans on the stove, it blossomed out of the +wall, it almost tapped at the window, but Maciek blinked his eyes and +thought: 'Leave me alone, you will come in useful some day!' + +Shortly before sunset he heard cheerful singing in the road, and +quickly stepping outside, he saw the gospodarz and his family returning +from church. They were silhouetted against the red sky in the white +landscape. Jendrek, his head in the air and his arms crossed behind his +back, was walking on the left side of the road, the gospodyni in her +blue Sunday skirt, and her jacket unbuttoned, so that her white chemise +and bare chest were showing, on the right. The gospodarz, his cap awry, +and holding up nis sukmana as for a dance, lurched from right to left +and from left to right, singing. The labourer laughed, not because they +were drunk, but because it pleased him to see them enjoying themselves. + +'Do you know, Maciek,' cried Slimak from afar, 'do you know the +Swabians can't hurt us!' + +He ran up full tilt and supported himself on Maciek's neck. + +'Do you know,' cried the gospodyni, coming up,'we have seen Jasiek Gryb +who knows all about the law; we told him about Jendrek's giving it to +Hermann, and he swore by a happy death that the Court would let Jendrek +off; Jasiek has been tried for these tricks himself, he knows.' + +'Let them try and put me in prison!' shouted Jendrek. + +It was in this frame of mind that they sat down, but somehow the dinner +was not a success. Slimakowa poured most of the sauerkraut over the +table, the gospodarz had no appetite, and Jendrek had forgotten how to +hold a spoon, scalded his father's foot with soup and finally fell +asleep. His parents followed his example, so Maciek was left to himself +again. The big-bellied bottle started pursuing him immediately. It +availed nothing that he busied himself with the fire and the wick of +the flickering lamp. The snoring around him disposed him to sleep and +the smell of vodka that had been introduced into the room filled him +with longing. In vain he tried to keep off the thoughts that circled +like moths round the light. When he forgot his misery at the hospital, +he thought of the forlornness of the abandoned baby, and when he put +that aside his own needs overwhelmed him again. 'It's no use,' he +muttered, 'I must go to bed.' + +He wrapped the child in the sheepskin and went into the stable. He lay +down on the straw, the warmth of the horses tempered the cold, and +Maciek closed his eyes, but sleep would not come; it was too early yet. + +As he turned from side to side, his hand came in contact with the +bottle; he pushed it away; but, violating the law of inertia, it thrust +itself irresistibly into his hand; the rag remained between his +fingers, and when he mechanically lifted it to his eyes in the +half-light, the strange vessel leapt to his lips of its own accord. Before +he was conscious of what he was doing, Maciek had pulled a long draft +of the health-giving speciality. He gulped it down and pulled a wry +face. The drink was not only strong, it was nauseous; it simply tasted +like ordinary medicine. 'Well, that wasn't worth longing for!' he +thought, as he stuffed up the neck of the bottle again. He resolved to +be more temperate in future with a liquor which was not distinguished +for a good taste. + +Maciek said a prayer and felt warm and calm. He remembered the +home-coming of the gospodarz's family: they all stood before his eyes +as if they were alive. Suddenly Slimak and Jendrek vanished and only +Slimakowa remained near him in her unbuttoned jacket which exposed rows +of corals and her bare white chest. He closed his eyelids and pressed +them with his fingers, so as not to look, but still he saw her, smiling +at him in a strange way. He hid his head in the sheepskin--it was in +vain; the woman stood there and smiled in a way that sent the fever +through his veins. His heart beat violently; he turned his head to the +wall and, terror-stricken, heard her voice whispering close to him: +'Move up!' + +'Where am I to move to?' groaned Maciek. + +A warm hand seemed to embrace his neck. + +Then his mattress began to ascend with him, he flew... flew. God I was +he falling or being lifted into the air? he felt as light as a feather, +as smoke. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw stars glittering in a +dark sky over a snowy landscape. How could he be seeing the sky? +No... he must have made a mistake; darkness was surrounding him again. +He wanted to move, but could not; besides, why should he move, when he +felt so extraordinarily comfortable? there was not a thing in the world +that it would be worth while moving a finger for, nothing but sleep +mattered, sleep without awakening. He sighed heavily and slept and +slept. + +A sensation of pain woke Maciek from a dreamless sleep which must have +lasted about ten hours. He felt himself violently shaken, kicked in the +ribs and on the head, tugged by his arms and legs. + +'Get up, you thief... get up!' a voice was shouting at him. + +He tried to get up, but turned over on the other side instead. The +blows and tugs recommenced, and the voice, choked with rage, continued: + +'Get up! I wish the holy earth had never carried you!' + +At last Maciek roused himself and sat up; the light hurt his eyes, his +head felt heavy like a rock; so he closed his eyes again, supported his +head and tried to think; immediately he received a blow in the face +from a fist. When at last he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Slimak +who was standing over him, mad with rage. + +'What are you hitting me for?' he asked in amazement. + +'Where are the horses, you thief?' shouted Slimak. + +'Horses? what horses?' + +He was suddenly seized with sickness. Coming to himself a little, he +looked round. Yes, something seemed to be missing from the stable; he +wiped his forehead, looked again... the stable was empty. + +'But where are the horses?' he asked. + +'Where?' cried Slimak, 'where your brothers have taken them, you +thief.' The labourer held out his hands. + +'I never took them out. I haven't stirred from here all night, +something must have happened... I am ill.' + +He staggered up and had to support himself. + +'What is that? You are trying to make out that you have lost your wits. +You know quite well that the horses have been stolen. Whoever stole +them must have opened the door and led them over you.' + +'God help me! no one opened the door, no one led them over me,' cried +Maciek, bursting into sobs. + +'Dad! Burek is lying dead behind the fence,' cried Jendrek, who came +running up with his mother. + +'They have poisoned him,' said the woman, 'the foam has frozen on his +mouth.' + +Maciek sank down in the open door, unable to stand any longer. + +'The devil has got him too, he isn't like himself, something has fallen +on him,' said Slimak. + +'And may he keep it till he dies,'cried the woman, 'here he is sleeping +in the stable and lets the horses be stolen. May the ground spit him +out!' + +Jendrek was looking for a stone, but his parents, taking notice of the +man's deathly pallor and his sunken eyes for the first time, restrained +him. + +'Maybe they have poisoned him too,' whispered Slimakowa. + +Slimak shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to make of it. + +He began to question Maciek: Had anything happened in his absence? + +Slowly and with difficulty, but concealing nothing, Maciek told his +story. + +'Of course they gave me some filthy stuff, and then they made off with +the horses,' he added, sobbing. + +But instead of taking pity on him, Slimak burst out afresh: + +'What? you took drink from strangers and never told me anything about +it?' + +'Why should I have bothered you, gospodarz, when you were a little bit +screwed yourself?' + +'What's that to do with you?' bawled Slimak, 'dogs have no right to +notice whether one is drunk or not, they have to be all the more +watchful when one is! You are a thief like the others, only you are +worse. I took you in when you were starving, and you've robbed me in +return.' + +'Don't talk like that,' groaned Maciek, crawling to Slimak's feet, 'I +have saved a few roubles from my wages, and there is my little chest +and a bit of sheepskin and my sukmana; take it all, but don't say I +robbed you. Your dog has not been more faithful, and they have poisoned +him too.' + +'Don't bother me,' cried Slimak, thrusting him aside, 'the fellow +offers me his wages and his box when the horses were worth twenty-eight +roubles. + +I haven't taken twenty-eight roubles the whole year. If you were my own +son I wouldn't let you off; neither of the boys have ever cost me as +much.' + +His anger overcame him, he beat himself with his clenched fists. + +'Find the horses,' he cried, 'or I will give you in charge, go where +you like, look where you like, but don't show your face here without +them or one of us will die! I loathe you. Take that bastard or we will +let it starve, and be off!' + +'I will find the horses,' said Maciek, and drew his old sheepskin round +him with trembling hands; 'perhaps God will help me.' + +'The devil will help you, you low scoundrel,' said Slimak, and turned +away. + +'And leave your box,' added Jendrek. + +'He has paid us out for our kindness,' whimpered Slimakowa, wiping her +eyes. They went into the house. + +Not one of them had a kind glance to spare for Maciek, although he was +leaving them forever. + +Slowly and painfully he wrapped the child up in an old bit of a shirt +and a shawl, fastened his belt round himself and looked for a stick. + +His head was aching as if he were going through a severe illness; he +was unable to reason out the situation. He felt no resentment towards +Slimak for having beaten him and driven him away; the gospodarz was in +the right, of course; neither was he afraid of having no roof over his +head; people like him never had any roof of their own; he was not +thinking of the future. Another thought was torturing him...the horses. +For Slimak the horses were part of his working machinery, for Maciek +they were friends and brothers. Who but they in the whole world had +longed for him, had greeted him heartily when he returned, or looked +after him when he went out? No one but Wojtek and Kasztan. For years +they had shared hardships together. Now they were gone, perhaps led +away into misery, through his, Maciek's, fault. + +He fancied he heard them neighing. They were becoming sensible of what +was happening to them and were calling to him for help! + +'I am coming, I am coming,' he muttered, took the child on his arm, +seized the stick and limped forth. He did not look round, he would see +the gospodarstwo again when he came back with the horses. + +He saw Burek lying stark behind the barn, but he had no thought to +spare for him; he peered for the traces of the horses' feet. There they +were, stamped into the snow as into wax; Kasztan's large feet and the +broken hoof of Wojtek; here the thieves had mounted and ridden off at a +slow trot. How bold, how sure of themselves they had been! But Maciek +will find you! The peasant rancour in him had been awakened. If you +escape to the end of the world he will pursue you; if you dig +yourselves into the ground he will dig you out with his hands; if you +escape to Heaven he will stand at the gate and importune the saints +until they fly all over the universe and give him back the horses! + +On the highroad the tracks became less distinct, but they were still +recognizable. Maciek could read the whole history of the peregrination +in them. Here Kasztan had been startled and had shied; here the thief +had dismounted and altered Wojtek's bridle. What gentlemen they were, +these thieves, they came stealing in new boots, such as no gentleman +need have been ashamed of! + +Near the church the tracks became confused and, what was worse, +divided. Kasztan had been ridden to the right and Wojtek to the left. +After reflecting for a moment, Maciek followed the latter track, +possibly because it was clearer, but most likely because he loved that +little horse the best. About noon he found himself near the village +where Magda's uncle, the Soltys Grochowski, lived. He turned in there, +hoping for a bite of food; he was hungry and the little girl was +crying. + +Grochowski was at home and in the middle of receiving a sound rating +from his wife for no particular reason but just for the pleasure of it. +The huge man was sitting on the bench by the wall, with one arm on the +table and the other on the window-sill, listening with an expression of +fixed attention to his wife's homilies; this attention was, however, +assumed, for whenever she buried her head among the pots and pans on +the stove he yawned and stretched himself, pulling a face as if the +conversation had long been distasteful to him. + +As his wife was in the habit of relenting before strangers, so as not +to prejudice his office, Grochowski hailed Maciek's arrival gladly, and +ordered food for him and milk for the little girl, adding cold meat and +vodka to the repast when he heard the news that Slimak's horses had +been stolen and that Maciek was applying to him for advice. He even +talked of drawing up a statement, but the necessary implements were not +at hand. So he drew Maciek into the alcove for a long, whispered +conversation, the upshot of which was that they must proceed with +caution upon the track of the thieves, as certain strong influences +tied Grochowski's hands until he had clearer evidence. Maciek was also +given to understand why Jasiek Gryb had entertained the gospodarz and +his family so liberally, and Grochowski even seemed to know the man who +had presented Maciek with the monks' cordial and said that the woman in +the sledge was not a woman at all. + +'I will do whatever you tell me, Soltys,' said Maciek, embracing his +knees, 'even if you should send me to my death.' + +'It is no use tracking near here,' said the Soltys, 'we know all about +that, but it would be useful to know where the other track leads to. +Follow that as far as you can, and if you find any clue let me know at +once. You ought to be back here by to-morrow.' + +'And shall we find the horses?' + +'We shall find them even if we had to drag them out of the thieves' +bowels,' said the Soltys, looking fierce. + +It was about two o'clock when Maciek was ready to start. The Soltys +hinted that the child had better be left behind, but his wife was so +angry at the suggestion that he desisted. So Maciek tied her up again +in the old bits of clothing and went his way. + +He easily found Kasztan's tracks on the highroad and followed them for +an hour, when he thought that he must be nearing the thieves' quarters, +for the tracks had been covered up, and finally led into the ravines. +The frost was pinching harder and harder, but the breathless man +scarcely noticed the cold. From time to time clouds flew over the sky +and snow drifted along the ground in gusts; Maciek searched all the +more eagerly, so as not to miss the track before it should be covered +with fresh drifts. On and on he walked, never even noticing that +darkness was coming on and the snow was falling faster. + +Now and then he would sit down for a moment, too tired to go on, but he +jumped up again, for he fancied he heard Kasztan neighing. Probably it +was his aching head that produced these sounds, but at last they became +so loud that he left the track and cut right across the hill in the +direction from which they seemed to proceed. With his last remaining +strength he struggled with the bushes, fell, scrambled to his feet, and +continued. Then the neighing ceased and he found that he was in the +ravines, knee-deep in snow, and night-was falling. + +With difficulty he dragged himself on to a knoll to see where he was. +He could see nothing but snow--snow to the right and to the left, here +and there intercepted by bushes, the last streak of light had faded +from the sky. + +He tried to descend; in one place the slope was too steep, in another +there were too many bushes; at last he decided on an easier place and +put his stick forward; it gave way, and he fell after it for several +yards. It was fortunate that the snow lay waist-deep in this spot. + +The frightened child began its low sobbing, it had always been too weak +to cry heartily. Fear was knocking at Maciek's heart. + +'Surely, I can't have lost my way?' he thought, 'these are our ravines +that I know so well, yet I don't see my way out of them.' + +He started walking again, alternately in low and deep snow, until he +came upon a place that had been trodden down recently. He knelt down +and felt the tracks with his hands. They were his own footprints. + +'Dear me! I've been going round in a circle,' he muttered, and tried +another corridor of ravines which presently led him to the place where +he had slid down the hill. He fancied he heard murmurings overhead and +looked up, but it was only the rustling of the bushes. The wind had +sprung up on the hillside and was driving before it clouds of fine snow +which stung his face and hands like gnats. + +'Can it be that my hour has come?' he thought; 'No, no,' he whispered, +'not till I have found the horses, else they will take me for a thief.' +He wrapped the child more closely in the coverings; she had fallen +asleep in spite of shaking and discomfort; he walked about aimlessly, +so as to keep moving. + +'I won't be a fool and sit down,' he muttered, 'if I sit down I shall +be frozen, and the thieves will keep the horses.' + +The hard snow fell faster and faster, whitening Maciek from head to +foot; the wind swept along the top of the hills, and as he listened to +it, the man was glad that he had not been caught in the open. + +'It's quite warm here,' he said, 'but all the same I'm not going to sit +down, I must keep on walking till the morning.' + +But it was not yet midnight and Maciek's legs began to refuse +obedience, he could no longer push away the snow with his feet; he +stopped and stamped, but that was even more tiring; he leant against +the sides of the little cavity. The spot was excellent; it was raised +above the ravine, and the little hollow was just large enough to hold a +man; bushes sheltered it against the snow on all sides. But the +crowning advantage was a jutting piece of rock, about the size of a +stool. + +'No, I won't sit down,' he determined, 'I know I should get +frozen.... It's true,' he added after a while, 'it would not do to go +to sleep, but it can't hurt to sit down for a bit.' + +He boldly sat down, drew his cap over his ears and the clothes round +the sleeping child, and decided that he would alternately rest and +stamp, and so await the morning. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep,' he kept on reminding himself. He +fancied the air was getting a little warmer and his feet were thawing. +Instead of the cold he felt ants creeping under the soles of his feet. +They crept in among his toes, swarmed over his injured leg, then over +the other, and reached his knees. In a mysterious way one had suddenly +settled on his nose; he wanted to flick it off, but a whole swarm was +sitting on his arms. He decided not to drive them away, for in the +first place they were keeping him awake, and then he rather liked them. +He smiled, as one reached his waist, and did not ask how they came to +be there. It was not surprising that there should be ant-hills in the +ravines, and he forgot that it was winter. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep...so long as I don't go to sleep....' +But at last he asked himself 'Why am I not to go to sleep? It's night +and I am in the stable? The thieves might be coming, that's it!' + +He grasped his stick more firmly; whispers seemed to be stirring all +round. + +'Oho! they are opening the stable door, there is the snow, this time I +will give it to them....' + +The thieves must have found out that he was on the watch this time and +made off. Maciek laughed; now he could go to sleep. He straightened his +back, pressed the little girl close. + +'Just a moment's sleep,' he reminded himself, 'I've something to do, +but what is it? Ploughing? no, that's done. Water the horses.. the +horses....' + +After midnight the moon dispersed the clouds and the new moon peeped +out and looked straight into the sleeper's face: but the man did not +move. Fresh clouds came up and hid the moon, yet he did not move. He +sat in the hollow of the hill, his head leaning against its side, the +child clasped to his breast. + +At last the sun rose, but even then he did not move. He seemed to be +gazing in astonishment at the railway line, not more than twenty steps +away from his resting place. + +The sun was high when a signalman came along the permanent way. He +caught sight of the sleeper and shouted, but there was no answer, and +the man approached. + +'Heh, father! have you been drinking?' he called out, as he went round +the hollow at a distance. At last, hardly believing his eyes, he went +up to the silent sitter and touched his hand. + +Maciek's and the child's faces were hard, as if they had been cast in +wax, hoarfrost lay on his lashes, and frozen moisture stood on the +child's lips. The signalman's arms dropped in astonishment; he wanted +to call for help, but remembered that no one would hear him. He turned +and ran at full speed to the Soltys' office. + +In the course of an hour or two a sledge with some men arrived to +remove the bodies. But Maciek's was frozen so hard that it was +impossible to open his arms or straighten his legs, so they put him in +the sledge as he was. He went for his last drive with the child on his +knees, his head resting against the rail, and his face turned upwards, +as though he had done with human reckoning and was recounting his +wrongs to his Creator. + +When the mournful procession stopped, a small crowd of peasants, women, +and Jews gathered in front of the Wojt's office. The Wojt, his clerk, +and Grochowski were standing together. A shudder of remorse seized the +latter, he guessed who the man and child were that had been found, +frozen to death. He explained to the crowd what Maciek had told him. + +When he had finished, the men turned away, the women groaned, the Jews +spat on the ground; only Jasiek, the son of the rich peasant Gryb, +lighted an expensive cigar and smiled. He put his hands in the pockets +of his sheepskin coat, stuck out first one foot, then the other, to +display his elegant top-boots that reached above his knees, sucked his +cigar, and continued to smile. The men looked at him with aversion, but +the women, although shocked, did not think him repulsive. Was he not a +tall, broadshouldered, graceful lad, with a complexion like milk and +blood, and eyes the colour of a bluebottle, and did he not trim his +moustaches and beard like a nobleman? It was a pity he was not a +foreman with plenty of opportunities of ordering the girls about! The +men, however, were whispering among themselves that he was a scoundrel +who would come to a bad end. + +'Certainly it was wrong of Slimak to send the poor wretch away in such +weather,' said the Wojt. + +'It was a shame,' murmured the women. + +'It's only natural he should be angry when his horses had been stolen,' +said one of the men. + +'Driving him away did not bring the horses back, and he will have the +two poor souls on his conscience till he dies,' cried an old woman. + +Grochowski was seized with shuddering again. + +'It was not so much that Slimak drove him away, but that he himself was +anxious to go,' he said quickly, 'he wanted to track the thieves;' here +he gave a quick glance at Jasiek, who returned it insolently, and +observed that horse-thieves were sharp, and more people might meet +their death in tracking them. + +'They may find that there is a limit to it,' said Grochowski. + +The policeman now proceeded to examine the corpses, and the Wojt was +standing by with a wry face, as if he had bitten on a peppercorn. + +'We must drive them to the district police-court,' he said; 'Stojka,' +turning to the owner of the sledge, 'drive on, we will overtake you +presently. This is the first time that any one in this parish has ever +been frozen to death.' + +Stojka demurred and scratched his head, but he took up the reins and +lashed the horses; after all, it was only a few versts, and one need +not look much at the passengers. He walked by the side of the sledge +and Grochowski and a man who was to make closer acquaintance with the +police-court, for spoiling his neighbour's bucket, went with him. + +It so happened that, just as the Wojt was dispatching the bodies to the +police-court, the police officer was sending 'Silly Zoska' back to her +native village. A few months after leaving her child in Maciek's care +she had been arrested; the reason was unknown to her. As a matter of +fact she had been accused of begging, vagrancy, and attempted arson. +After the discovery of each new crime, they had taken her from +police-station to prison, from prison to infirmary, from infirmary to +another prison, and so on for a whole year. + +During her peregrinations Zoska had behaved with complete indifference; +when she was taken to a new place she would worry at first whether she +would find work. After that she became apathetic and slept the greater +part of the time, on her plank bed, or waiting in corridors and +prison-yards. It was all the same to her. At times she began to long for +freedom and her child, and then she fell into accesses of fury. Now +they were sending her back under escort of two peasants; one carried +the papers relating to her case, and the other had come to keep him +company. She had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other, a +sukmana in holes, and a handkerchief like a sieve on her head. She +walked quickly in front of the men, as if she were in a hurry to get +back, yet neither the familiar neighbourhood nor the hard frost seemed +to make any impression on her. When the men called out: 'Heh! not so +fast!' she stood as still as a post, and waited till they told her to +go on. + +'She's quite daft!' said one. + +'She's always been like that,' said the other, who had known her a long +time, 'yet she's not bad at rough work.' + +A few versts from the village, where the chimneys peeped out from +beyond the snowy hills, they came upon the little cortčge. The +attendants, noticing something unusual in the look of it, stopped and +talked to the Soltys. + +'Look, Zoska,' said the latter to the woman who was standing by +indifferently, 'that is your little girl.' + +She approached without seeming to understand; slowly, however, her face +acquired a human expression. + +'What's fallen upon them?' + +'They have been frozen.' + +'Why have they been frozen?' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house.' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house?' she repeated, fingering the +bodies, 'yes, that's my little girl, she's grown a bit; whoever heard +of a child being frozen to death?... she was meant to come to a bad +end. As God loves me, yes, that's my girl, my little girl--they've +murdered her; look at her!' she suddenly became animated. + +'Drive on,' said the Soltys, 'we must be getting on.' + +The horses started, Zoska tried to get into the sledge. + +'What are you doing?' cried her attendants, pulling her back. + +'That's my little girl!' cried Zoska, holding on. + +'What if she is yours?' said the Soltys, 'there's one road for you and +another for her.' + +'She's my little girl, mine!' With both hands the woman held on to the +sledge, but the peasant whipped up the horses and she fell to the +ground; she grasped the runners and was dragged along for several +yards. + +'Don't behave like a lunatic,' cried the men, detaching her with +difficulty from the fast-moving sledge; she would have run after it, +but one of them knelt on her feet and the other held her by the +shoulders. + +'She's my little girl; Slimak has let her freeze to death.... God +punish him, may he freeze to death himself!' she screamed. + +Gradually, as the sledge moved away, she calmed down, her livid face +assumed its copper colour, and her eyes became dull. She fell back into +her old apathy. + +'She's forgotten all about it,' said one of her companions. + +'These lunatics are often happier than other people,' answered the +friend. Then they walked on in silence. Nothing was heard but the +creaking snow under their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The loss of his horses had almost driven Slimak crazy. Beating Maciek +and kicking him out had not exhausted his anger. He felt the room +oppressive, walked out into the yard and ran up and down with clenched +fists and bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance to vent his temper. + +He remembered that he ought to feed the cows and went into the stable, +where he pushed the animals about, and when one clumsily trod on his +foot, he seized a fork and beat her mercilessly. He kicked Burek's body +behind the barn. 'You damned dog, if you had not taken bread from +strangers, I should still have my horses!' + +He returned to the room and threw himself on the bench with such +violence that he upset the block for wood-chopping. Jendrek laughed, +but his father unbuckled his belt and did not stop beating him till the +boy crept, bleeding, under the bench. With the belt in his hand Slimak +waited for his wife to make a remark. But she remained silent, only +holding on to the chimney-piece for support. + +'What makes you stagger? Haven't you got over yesterday's vodka?' + +'Something's wrong with me,' she answered low. + +He decided to strap on his belt. 'What's wrong?' + +'I can't see, and there's a noise in my ears. Is any one whistling?' + +'Don't drink vodka and you'll hear no noises,' he said, spitting, and +went out. It surprised him that she had made no remark after the +thrashing he had given Jendrek, and having no one to beat, he seized an +axe and chopped wood until nightfall, eating nothing all day. Logs and +splinters fell round him, he felt as if he were revenging himself on +his enemies, and when he left off, stiff and tired, his shirt soaked +with perspiration, his anger had gone from him. + +He was surprised to find no one in the room and peeped into the alcove; +Slimakowa was lying on the bed. + +'What's the matter' + +'I'm not well, but it's nothing.' + +'The fire has gone out.' + +'Out?' she asked vaguely, raising herself. She got up and lighted the +fire with difficulty, her husband watching her. + +'You see,' he said presently, 'you got hot yesterday and then you would +drink water out of the Jew's pewter pot and unbutton your jacket. You +have caught cold.' + +'It's nothing,' she said ill-humouredly, pulled herself together and +warmed up the supper. Jendrek crept out and took a spoon, but cried +instead of eating. + +During the night, at about the hour when the unhappy Maciek was drawing +his last breath in the ravines, Slimakowa was seized with violent fits +of shivering. Slimak covered her with his sheepskin and it passed off. +She got up in the morning, and although she complained of pains, she +went about her work. Slimak was depressed. + +Towards evening a sledge stopped at the gate and the innkeeper Josel +entered with a strange expression on his face. Slimak's conscience +pricked him. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Josel. + +'In Eternity.' + +A silence ensued. + +'You have nothing to ask?' said the Jew. + +'What should I have to ask?' Slimak looked into his eyes and +involuntarily grew pale. + +'To-morrow,' Josel said slowly, 'to-morrow Jendrek's trial is coming on +for violence to Hermann.' + +'They'll do nothing to him.' + +'I expect he will have to sit in jail for a bit.' + +'Then let him sit, it will cure him of fighting.' + +Again silence fell. The Jew shook his head; Slimak's alarm grew. + +He screwed up his courage at last and asked: 'What else?' + +'What's the use of making many words?' said the Jew, holding up his +hands, 'Maciek and the child have been frozen to death.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet and looked for something to throw at the Jew, +but staggered and held on to the wall. A hot wave rushed over him, his +legs shook. Then he wondered why he should have been seized with fear +like this. + +'Where...when?' + +'In the ravines close to the railway line.' + +'But when?' + +'You know quite well that it was yesterday when you drove them out.' +Slimak's anger was rising. + +'As I live! the Jew is a liar! Frozen to death? What did he go to the +ravines for? are there no cottages in the world?' + +The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders and got up. + +'You can believe it or not, it's all the same to me, but I myself saw +them being driven to the police-station.' + +'Ah well! What harm can they do to me, because Maciek has been frozen?' + +'Perhaps men can't do you harm, but, man, before God! or don't you +believe in God?' the Jew asked from the other side of the door, his +burning eyes fixed on Slimak. + +The peasant stood still and listened to his heavy tread down to the +gate and to the sound of his departing sledge. He shook himself, turned +round and met Jendrek's eyes looking fixedly at him from the far +corner. + +'Why should I be to blame?' he muttered. Suddenly an annual sermon, +preached by an old priest, flashed through his mind; he seemed to hear +the peculiar cadence of his voice as he said: 'I was an hungered and ye +gave me no meat.... I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'By God, the Jew is lying,' he exclaimed. These words seemed to break +the spell; he felt sure Maciek and the child were alive, and he almost +went out to call them in to supper. + +'A low Jew, that Josel,' he said to his wife, while he covered her +again with the sheepskin, when her shivering-fits returned. Nothing +should induce him to believe that story. + +Next day the village Soltys drove up with the summons for Jendrek. + +'His trial does not come on till to-morrow,' he said, 'but as I was +driving that way, I thought he might as well come with me.' + +Jendrek grew pale and silently put on his new sukmana and sheepskin. + +'What will they do to him?' his father asked peevishly. + +'Eh! I dare say he'll get a few days, perhaps a week.' + +Slimak slowly pulled a rouble out of a little packet. + +'And...Soltys, have you heard what the accursed Jew has been saying +about Maciek and the child being frozen to death?' + +'How shouldn't I have heard?' said the Soltys, reluctantly; 'it's +true.' + +'Frozen...frozen?' + +'Yes, of course. But,' he added, 'every one understands that it's not +your fault. He didn't look after the horses and you discharged him. No +one told him to go down into the ravines. + +He must have been drunk. The poor wretch died through his own +stupidity.' + +Jendrek was ready to start, and embraced his parents' knees. Slimak +gave him the rouble, tears came into his eyes; his mother, however, +showed no sign of interest. + +'Jagna,' Slimak said with concern, 'Jendrek is going to his trial.' + +'What of that?' she answered with a delirious look. + +'Are you very ill?' + +'No, I'm only weak.' + +She went into the alcove and Slimak remained alone. The longer he sat +pondering the lower his head dropped on to his chest. Half dozing, he +fancied he was sitting on a wide, grey plain, no bushes, no grass, not +even stones were to be seen; there was nothing in front of him; but at +his side there was something he dared not look at. It was Maciek with +the child looking steadily at him. + +No, he would not look, he need not look! He need see nothing of him, +except a little bit of his sukmana...perhaps not even that! + +The thought of Maciek was becoming an obsession. He got up and began to +busy himself with the dishes. + +'What am I coming to? It doesn't do to give way!' + +He pulled himself together, fed the cattle, ran to the river for water. +It was so long since he had done these things that he felt rejuvenated, +and but for the thought of Maciek he would have been almost cheerful. + +His gloom returned with the dusk. It was the silence that tormented him +most. Nothing stirred but the mice behind the boards. The voice was +haunting him again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'It's all the fault of those scoundrel Swabians that everything is +going wrong with me,' he muttered, and began to count his losses on the +window-pane: 'Stasiek, that's one, the cow two, the horses four, +because the thieves did that out of spite for the hog, Burek five, +Jendrek six, Maciek and the child eight, and Magda had to leave, and my +wife is ill with worry, that makes ten. Lord Christ...!' + +Trembling seized him and he gripped his hair; he had never in his life +felt fear like this, though he had looked death in the face more than +once. He had suddenly caught a glimpse of the power the Germans were +exercising, and it scared him. They had destroyed all his life's work, +and yet you could not bring it home to them. They had lived like +others, ploughed, prayed, taught their children; you could not say they +were doing any wrong, and yet they had made his home desolate simply by +being there. They had blasted what was near them as smoke from a kiln +withers all green things. + +Not until this moment had the thought ever come to him: 'I am too close +to them! The gospodarstwos farther off do not suffer like this. What +good is the land, if the people on it die?' + +This new aspect was so horrible to him that he felt he must escape from +it; he glanced at his wife, she was asleep. The cadence of the priest's +voice began to haunt him again. + +Steps were approaching through the yard. The peasant straightened +himself. Could it be Jendrek? The door creaked. No, it was a strange +hand that groped along the wall in the darkness. He drew back, and his +head swam when the door opened and Zoska stood on the threshold. + +For a moment both stood silent, then Zoska said: + +'Be praised.' + +She began rubbing her hands over the fire. + +The idea of Maciek and the child and Zoska had become confused in +Slimak's mind; he looked at her as if she were an apparition from the +other world. 'Where do you come from?' His voice was choked. + +'They sent me back to the parish and told me to look out for work. They +said they wouldn't keep loafers.' + +Seeing the food in the saucepan, she began to lick her lips like a dog. + +'Pour out a basin of soup for yourself.' + +She did as she was told. + +'Don't you want a servant?' she asked presently. + +'I don't know; my wife is ill.' + +'There you are! It's quiet here. Where's Magda?' + +'Left.' + +'Jendrek?' + +'Sent up for trial.' + +'There you are! Stasiek?' + +'Drowned last summer,' he whispered, fearful lest Maciek's and the +little girl's turn should come next. + +But she ate greedily like a wild animal, and asked nothing further. + +'Does she know?' he thought. + +Zoska had finished and struck her hand cheerfully on her knee. He took +courage. + +'Can I stop the night?' + +Uneasiness seized him; any other guest would have been a blessing in +his solitude, but Zoska.... If she did not know the truth, what ill +wind had blown her here? And if she knew?...' + +He reflected. In the intense silence suddenly the priest's voice +started again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'All right, stop here, but you must sleep in this room.' + +'Or in the barn?' + +'No, here.' + +He hardly knew what it was that he feared; there was a vague sense of +misfortune in the air which was tormenting him. + +The fire died down. Zoska lay down on the bench in her rags and Slimak +went into the alcove. He sat on the bed, determined to be on the watch. +He did not know that this strange state of mind is called 'nerves'. Yet +a kind of relief had come in with Zoska; she had driven away the +spectre of Maciek and the child. But an iron ring was beginning to +press on his head. This was sleep, heavy sleep, the companion of great +anguish. He dreamt that he was split in two; one part of him was +sitting by his sick wife, the other was Maciek, standing outside the +window, where sunflowers bloomed in the summer. This new Maciek was +unlike the old one, he was gloomy and vindictive. + +'Don't believe,' said the strange guest, 'that I shall forgive you. +It's not so much that I got frozen, that might happen to anyone the +worse for drink, but you drove me away for no fault of mine after I had +served you so long. And what harm had the child done to you? Don't turn +away! Pass judgment on yourself for what you have done. God will not +let these wrongs be done and keep silent.' + +'What shall I say?' thought Slimak, bathed in perspiration. 'He is +telling the truth, I am a scoundrel. He shall fix the punishment, +perhaps he will get it over quickly.' + +His wife moved and he opened his eyes, but closed them again. A rosy +brightness filled the room, the frost glittered in flowers on the +window panes. 'Daylight?' he thought. + +No, it was not daylight, the rosy brightness trembled. A smell of +burning was heavy in the room. + +'Fire?' + +He looked into the room; Zoska had disappeared. + +'I knew it!' he exclaimed, and ran out into the yard. + +His house was indeed on fire; the roof towards the highroad was alight, +but owing to the thick layers of snow the flames spread but slowly; he +could still have saved the house, but he did not even think of this. + +'Get up, Jagna,' he cried, running back into the alcove, 'the house is +on fire!' + +'Leave me alone,' said the delirious woman, covering her head with the +sheepskin. He seized her and, stumbling over the threshold, carried her +into the shed, fetched her clothes and bedding, broke open the chest +and took out his money; finally he threw everything he could lay hands +on out of the window. Here was at least something tangible to fight. +The whole roof was now ablaze; smoke and flames were coming into the +room from the boarded ceiling. He was dragging the bench through the +brightly illuminated yard when he happened to look at the barn; he +stood petrified. Flames were licking at it, and there stood Zoska +shaking her clenched fist at him and shouting: 'That's my thanks to +you, Slimak, for taking care of my child, now you shall die as she +did!' + +She flew out of the yard and up the hill; he could see her by the light +of the fire, dancing and clapping her hands. + +'Fire, fire!' she shouted. + +Slimak reeled like a wild animal after the first shot. Then he slowly +went towards the barn and sat down, not thinking of seeking help. This +was the beginning of the divine punishment for the wrong he had done. + +'We shall all die!' he murmured. + +Both buildings were burning like pillars of fire, and in spite of the +frost Slimak felt hot in the shed. Suddenly shouts and clattering came +from the settlement; the Germans were coming to his assistance. Soon +the yard was swarming with them, men, women and children with +hand-fire-engines and buckets. They formed into groups, and at Fritz +Hamer's command began to pull down the burning masses and to put out +the fire. Laughing and emulating each other in daring, they went into +the fire as into a dance; some of the most venturesome climbed up the +walls of the burning buildings. Zoska approached once more from the +side of the ravines. + +'Never mind the Germans helping you, you will die all the same,' she +cried. + +'Who is that?' shouted the settlers, 'catch her!' + +But Zoska was too quick for them. + +'I suppose it was she who set fire to your house?' asked Fritz. + +'No one else but she.' + +Fritz was silent for a moment. + +'It would be better for you to sell us the land.' + +The peasant hung his head.... + +The barn could not be saved, but the walls of the cottage were still +standing; some of the people were busy putting out the fire, others +surrounded the sick woman. + +'What are you going to do?' Fritz began again. + +'We will live in the stable.' + +The women whispered that they had better be taken to the settlement, +but the men shook their heads, saying the woman might be infectious. +Fritz inclined to this opinion and ordered her to be well wrapped up +and taken into the stable. + +'We will send you what you need,' he said. + +'God reward you,' said Slimak, embracing his knees. + +Fritz took Hermann aside. + +'Drive full speed to Wolka,' he said, 'and fetch miller Knap; we may be +able to settle this affair to-night.' + +'It's high time we did,' replied the other, audibly, 'we shan't hold +out till the spring unless we do.' + +Fritz swore. + +Nevertheless, he took leave benevolently. Bending over the sick woman +he said: 'She is quite unconscious.' + +But in a strangely decided voice she ejaculated: 'Ah! unconscious!' + +He drew back in confusion. 'She is delirious,' he said. + +At daybreak the Germans brought the promised help, but Slimak paced +backwards and forwards among the ruins of his homestead, from which the +smell of smouldering embers rose pungently. He looked at his household +goods, tumbled into the yard. How many times had he sat on that bench +and cut notches and crosses into it when a boy. That heap of +smouldering ruins represented his storehouse and the year's crop. How +small the cottage looked now that it was reduced to walls, and how +large the chimney! He took out his money, hid it under a heap of dry +manure in the stable and strolled about again. Up the hill he went, +with a feeling that they were talking about him in the village and +would come to his help. But there was no one to be seen on the +boundless covering of snow; here and there smoke rose from the +cottages. + +His imagination, keener than usual, conjured up old pictures. He +fancied he was harrowing on the hill with the two chestnuts who were +whisking their tails under his nose; the sparrows were twittering, +Stasiek gazing into the river; by the bridge his wife was beating the +linen, he could hear the resounding smacks, while the squire's +brother-in-law was wildly galloping up and down the valley. Jendrek and +Magda were answering each other in snatches of songs.... + +Suddenly he was awakened from his dreams by the stench of his burnt +cottage; he looked up, and everything he saw became abominable to him. +The frozen river, into which his child would never gaze again; the +empty, hideous homestead; he longed to escape from it all and go far +away and forget Stasiek and Maciek and the whole accursed gospodarstwo. +He could buy land more cheaply elsewhere with the money he would get +from the Germans. What was the good of the land if it was ruining the +people on it? + +He went into the stable and lay down near his wife, who was moaning +deliriously, and soon fell asleep. + +At noon old Hamer appeared, accompanied by a German woman who carried +two bowls of hot soup. He stood over Slimak and poked him with his +stick. + +'Hey, get up!' + +Slimak roused himself and looked about heavily; seeing the hot food he +ate greedily. Hamer sat down in the doorway, smoking his pipe and +watching Slimak; he nodded contentedly to himself. + +'I've been down to the village to ask Gryb and the other gospodarze to +come and help you, for that is a Christian duty....' + +He waited for the peasant's thanks, but Slimak went on eating and did +not look at him. + +'I told them they ought to take you in; but they said, God was +punishing you for the death of the labourer and the child and they +didn't wish to interfere. They are no Christians.' + +Slimak had finished eating, but he remained silent. + +'Well, what are you going to do?' + +Slimak wiped his mouth and said: 'I shall sell.' Hamer poked his pipe +with deliberation. + +'To whom?' + +'To you.' + +Hamer again busied himself with his pipe. + +'All right! I am willing to buy, as you have fallen upon bad times. But +I can only give you seventy roubles.' + +'You were giving a hundred not long ago.' + +'Why didn't you take it?' + +'That's true, why didn't I take it? Everyone profits as he can.' + +'Have you never tried to profit?' + +'I have.' + +'Then will you take it?' + +'Why shouldn't I take it?' + +'We will settle the matter at my house to-night.' + +'The sooner the better.' + +'Well, since it is so,' Hamer added after a while, 'I will give you +seventy-five roubles, and you shan't be left to die here. You and your +wife can come to the school; you can spend the winter with us and I +will give you the same pay as my own farm-labourers.' + +Slimak winced at the word 'farm-labourer', but he said nothing. + +'And your gospodarze,' concluded Hamer, 'are brutes. They will do +nothing for you.' + +Before sunset a sledge conveyed the unconscious woman to the +settlement. Slimak remained, recovered his money from under the manure, +collected a few possessions and milked the cows. + +The dumb animals looked reproachfully at him and seemed to ask: 'Are +you sure you have done the best you could, gospodarz?' + +'What am I to do?' he returned, 'the place is unlucky, it is bewitched. +Perhaps the Germans can take the spell away, I can't.' + +He felt as if his feet were being held to the ground, but he spat at +it. 'Much I have to be thankful to you for! Barren land, far from +everybody so that thieves may profit!' He would not look back. + +On the way he met two German farm-labourers, who had come to spend the +night in the stable; as he passed them, they laughed. + +'Catch me spending the winter with you scoundrels! I'm off directly the +wife is well and the boy out of jail.' + +A black shadow detached itself from the gate when he reached the +settlement, 'Is that you, schoolmaster?' + +'Yes. So you have consented after all to sell your land?' + +Slimak was silent. + +'Perhaps it's the best thing you can do. If you can't make much of it +yourself, at least you can save others.' He looked round and lowered +his voice. 'But mind you bargain well, for you are doing them a good +turn. Miller Knap will pay cash down as soon as the contract has been +signed and give his daughter to Wilhelm. Otherwise Hirschgold will turn +the Hamers out at midsummer and sell the land to Gryb. They have a +heavy contract with the Jew.' + +'What? Gryb would buy the settlement?' + +'Indeed he would. He is anxious to settle his son too, and Josel has +been sniffing round for a month past. So there's your chance, bargain +well.' + +'Why, damn it,' said Slimak, 'I would rather have a hundred Germans +than that old Judas.' + +A door creaked and the schoolmaster changed the conversation. 'Come +this way, your wife is in the schoolroom.' + +'Is that Slimak?' Fritz called out. + +'It is I.' + +'Don't stay long with your wife, she is being looked after, and we want +you at daybreak; you must sleep in the kitchen.' + +The noise of loud conversation and clinking of glasses came from the +back of the house, but the large schoolroom was empty, and only lighted +by a small lamp. His wife was lying on a plank bed; a pungent smell of +vinegar pervaded the room. That smell took the heart out of Slimak; +surely his wife must be very ill! He stood over her; her eye-lashes +twitched and she looked steadily at him. + +'Is it you, Josef?' + +'Who else should it be?' + +Her hands moved about restlessly on the sheepskin; she said distinctly: +'What are you doing, Josef, what are you doing?' + +'You see I am standing here.' + +'Ah yes, you are standing there...but what are you doing? I know +everything, never fear!' + +'Go away, gospodarz,' hurriedly cried the old woman, pushing him +towards the door, 'she is getting excited, it isn't good for her.' + +'Josef!' cried Slimakowa, 'come back! Josef, I must speak to you!' The +peasant hesitated. + +'You are doing no good,' whispered the schoolmaster, 'she is rambling, +she may go to sleep when you are out of sight.' + +He drew Slimak into the passage, and Fritz Hamer at once took him to +the further room. + +Miller Knap and old Hamer were sitting at a brightly lighted table +behind their beer mugs, blowing clouds of smoke from their pipes. The +miller had the appearance of a huge sack of flour as he sat there in +his shirtsleeves, holding a full pot of beer in his hand and wiping the +perspiration off his forehead. Gold studs glittered in his shirt. + +'Well, you are going to let us have your land at last?' he shouted. + +'I don't know,' said the peasant in a low voice, 'maybe I shall sell +it.' The miller roared with laughter. + +'Wilhelm,' he bellowed, as if Wilhelm, who was officiating at the +beer-barrel on the bench, were half a mile off, 'pour out some beer for +this man. Drink to my health and I'll drink to yours, although you +never used to bring me your corn to grind. But why didn't you sell us +your land before?' + +'I don't know,' said the peasant, taking a long pull. + +'Fill up his glass,' shouted the miller, 'I will tell you why; it's +because you don't know your own mind. Determination is what you want. +I've said to myself: I will have a mill at Wolka, and a mill at Wolka I +have, although the Jews twice set fire to it. I said: My son shall be a +doctor, and a doctor he will be. And now I've said: Hamer, your son +must have a windmill, so he must have a windmill. Pour out another +glass, Wilhelm, good beer...eh? my son-in-law brews it. What? no more +beer? Then we'll go to bed.' + +Fritz pushed Slimak into the kitchen, where one of the farm-hands was +asleep already. He felt stupefied; whether it was with the beer or with +Knap's noisy conversation, he could not tell. He sat down on his plank +bed and felt cheerful. The noise of conversation in German reached him +from the adjoining room; then the Hamers left the house. Miller Knap +stamped about the room for a while; presently his thick voice repeated +the Lord's prayer while he was pulling off his boots and throwing them +into a corner: 'Amen amen,' he concluded, and flung himself heavily +upon the bed; a few moments later noises as if he were being throttled +and murdered proclaimed that he was asleep. + +The moon was throwing a feeble light through the small squares of the +window. + +Between waking and sleeping Slimak continued to meditate: 'Why +shouldn't I sell? It's better to buy fifteen acres of land elsewhere, +than to stay and have Jasiek Gryb as a neighbour. The sooner I sell, +the better.' He got up as if he wished to settle the matter at once, +laughed quietly to himself and felt more and more intoxicated. + +Then he saw a human shadow outlined against the window pane; someone +was trying to look into the room. The peasant approached the window and +became sober. He ran into the passage and pulled the door open with +trembling hands. Frosty air fanned his face. His wife was standing +outside, still trying to look through the window. + +'Jagna, for God's sake, what are you doing here? Who dressed you?' + +'I dressed myself, but I couldn't manage my boots, they are quite +crooked. Come home,' she said, drawing him by the hand. + +'Where, home? Are you so ill that you don't know our home is burnt +down? Where will you go on a bitter night like this?' + +Hamer's mastiffs were beginning to growl. Slimakowa hung on her +husband's arm. 'Come home, come home,' she urged stubbornly, 'I will +not die in a strange house, I am a gospodyni, I will not stay here with +the Swabians. The priests would not even sprinkle holy water on my +coffin.' + +She pulled him and he went; the dogs went after them for a while +snapping at their clothes; they made straight for the frozen river, so +as to reach their own nest the sooner. On the riverbank they stopped +for a moment, the tired woman was out of breath. + +'You have let yourself be tempted by the Germans to sell them your +land! You think I don't know. Perhaps you will say it is not true?' she +cried, looking wildly into his eyes. He hung his head. + +'You traitor, you son of a dog!' she burst out. 'Sell your land! You +would sell the Lord Jesus to the Jews! Tired of being a gospodarz, are +you? What is Jendrek to do? And is a gospodyni to die in a stranger's +house?' + +She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' +she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! +Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if +you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after +death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and +open them again...listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you +sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn +to blood in your mouth.' + +'Jesus!' whispered the man. + +'...Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a +spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.' + +'Jesus...Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his +ears. + +'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He +shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on +filthy litter?' + +'Not though I had to draw...so help me God!' + +The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and +reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed. + +'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared. + +'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.' + +They demurred and he kicked them both out. They went off, cursing and +threatening him. + +Slimak laid his wife down on the warm litter and strolled about the +yard, thinking that he must presently fetch help for her and a doctor. +Now and then he looked into the stable; she seemed to be sleeping +quietly. Her great peacefulness began to strike him, his head was +swimming, he heard noises in his ears; he knelt down and pulled her by +the hand; she was dead, even cold. + +'Now I don't care if I go to the devil,' he said, raked some straw into +a corner and was asleep within a few minutes. + +It was afternoon when he was at last awakened by old Sobieska. + +'Get up, Slimak! your wife is dead! God's faith! dead as a stone.' + +'How can I help it?' said the peasant, turning over and drawing his +sheepskin over his head. + +'But you must buy a coffin and notify the parish.' + +'Let anyone who cares do that.' + +'Who will do it? In the village they say it's God's punishment on you. +And won't the Germans take it out of you! That fat man has quarrelled +with them. Josel says you are now reaping the benefit of selling your +fowls: he threatened me if I came here to see you. Get up now!' + +'Let me be or I'll kick you!' + +'You godless man, is your wife to lie there without Christian burial?' +He advanced his boot so vehemently that the old woman ran screaming out +along the highroad. + +Slimak pushed to the door and lay down again. A hard +peasant-stubbornness had seized him. He was certain that he was past +salvation. He neither accused himself nor regretted anything; he only +wanted to be left to sleep eternally. Divine pity could have saved him, +but he no longer believed in divine pity, and no human hand would do so +much as give him a cup of water. + +While the sound of the evening-bells floated through the air, and the +women in the cottages whispered the Angelus, a bent figure approached +the gospodarstwo, a sack on his back, a stick in his hand; the glory of +the setting sun surrounded him. Such as these are the 'angels' which +the Lord sends to people in the extremity of their sorrow. + +It was Jonah Niedoperz, the oldest and poorest Jew in the +neighbourhood; he traded in everything and never had any money to keep +his large family, with whom he lived in a half-ruined cottage with +broken windowpanes. Jonah was on his way to the village and was +meditating deeply. Would he get a job there? would he live to have a +dinner of pike on the Sabbath? would his little grandchildren ever have +two shirts to their backs? + +'Aj waj!' he muttered, 'and they even took the three roubles from me!' +He had never forgotten that robbery in the autumn, for it was the +largest sum he had ever possessed. + +His glance fell on the burnt homestead. Good God! if such a thing +should ever befall the cottage where his wife and daughters, +sons-in-law and grandchildren lived! His emotion grew when he heard the +cows lowing miserably. He approached the stable. + +'Slimak! My good lady gospodyni!' he cried, tapping at the door. He was +afraid to open it lest he should be suspected of prying into other +people's business. + +'Who is that?' asked Slimak. + +'It's only I, old Jonah,' he said, and peeped in, 'but what's wrong +with your honours?' he asked in astonishment. + +'My wife is dead.' 'Dead? how dead? what do you mean by such a joke? +Ajwaj! really-dead?' He looked attentively at her. + +'Such a good gospodyni...what a misfortune, God defend us! And you are +lying there and don't see about the funeral?' + +'There may as well be two,' murmured the peasant. + +'How two? are you ill?' + +'No.' + +The Jew shook his head and spat. 'It can't be like this; if you won't +move I will go and give notice; tell me what to do.' + +Slimak did not answer. The cows began to low again. + +'What is the matter with the cows?' the Jew asked interestedly. + +'I suppose they want water.' + +'Then why don't you water them?' + +No answer came. The Jew looked at Slimak and waited, then he tapped his +forehead. 'Where is the pail, gospodarz?' + +'Leave me alone.' + +But Jonah did not give in. He found the pail, ran to the ice-hole and +watered the cows; he had sympathy for cows, because he dreamt of +possessing one himself one day, or at least a goat. Then he put the +pail close to Slimak. He was exhausted with this unusually hard work. + +'Well, gospodarz, what is to happen now?' + +His pity touched Slimak, but failed to rouse him. He raised his head. +'If you should see Grochowski, tell him not to sell the land before +Jendrek is of age.' + +'But what am I to do now, when I get to the village?' + +Slimak had relapsed into silence. + +The Jew rested his chin in his hand and pondered for a while; at last +he took his bundle and stick and went off. The miserable old man's pity +was so strong that he forgot his own needs and only thought of saving +the other. Indeed, he was unable to distinguish between himself and his +fellow-creature, and he felt as if he himself were lying on the straw +beside his dead wife and must rouse himself at all costs. + +He went as fast as his old legs would carry him straight to Grochowski; +by the time he arrived it was dark. He knocked, but received no answer, +waited for a quarter of an hour and then walked round the house. +Despairing at last of making himself heard, he was just going to +depart, when Grochowski suddenly confronted him, as if the ground had +produced him. + +'What do you want, Jew?' asked the huge man, concealing some long +object behind his back. + +'What do I want?' quavered the frightened Jew, 'I have come straight +from Slimak's. Do you know that his house is burnt down, his wife is +dead, and he is lying beside her, out of his wits? He talks as if he +had a filthy idea in his head, and he hasn't even watered the cows.' + +'Listen, Jew,' said Grochowski fiercely, 'who told you to come here and +lie to me? is it those horse-stealers?' + +'What horse-stealers? I've come straight from Slimak....' + +'Lies! You won't draw me away from here, whatever you do.' + +The Jew now perceived that it was a gun which Grochowski was hiding +behind his back, and the sight so unnerved him that he nearly fell +down. He fled at full speed along the highroad. Even now, however, he +did not forget Slimak, but walked on towards the village to find the +priest. + +The priest had been in the parish for several years. He was middle-aged +and extremely good-looking, and possessed the education and manners of +a nobleman. He read more than any of his neighbours, hunted, was +sociable, and kept bees. Everybody spoke well of him, the nobility +because he was clever and fond of society, the Jews because he would +not allow them to be oppressed, the settlers because he entertained +their Pastors, the peasants because he renovated the church, conducted +the services with much pomp, preached beautiful sermons, and gave to +the poor. But in spite of this there was no intimate touch between him +and his simple parishioners. When they thought of him, they felt that +God was a great nobleman, benevolent and merciful, but not friends with +the first comer. The priest felt this and regretted it. No peasant had +ever invited him to a wedding or christening. At first he had tried to +break through their shyness, and had entered into conversations with +them; but these ended in embarrassment on both sides and he left it +off. 'I cannot act the democrat,' he thought irritably. + +Sometimes when he had been left to himself for several days owing to +bad roads, he had pricks of conscience. + +'I am a Pharisee,' he thought; 'I did not become a priest only to +associate with the nobility, but to serve the humble.' + +He would then lock himself in, pray for the apostolic spirit, vow to +give away his spaniel and empty his cellar of wine. + +But as a rule, just as the spirit of humility and renunciation was +beginning to be awakened, Satan would send him a visitor. + +'God have mercy! fate is against me,' he would mutter, get up from his +knees, give orders for the kitchen and cellar, and sing jolly songs and +drink like an Uhlan a quarter of an hour afterwards. + +To-night, at the time when Jonah was drawing near to the Parsonage, he +was getting ready for a party at a neighbouring landowner's to meet an +engineer from Warsaw who would have the latest news and be entertained +exceptionally well, for he was courting the landowner's daughter. The +priest was longing feverishly for the moment of departure, for lie had +been left to himself for several days. He could hardly bear the look of +his snow-covered courtyard any more, having no diversion except +watching a man chop wood, and hearing the cawing of rooks. He paced to +and fro, thinking that another quarter of an hour must have gone, and +was surprised to find it was only a few minutes since he had last +looked at his watch. He ordered the samovar and lit his pipe. Then +there was a knock at the door. Jonah came in, bowing to the ground. + +'I am glad to see you,' said the priest, 'there are several things in +my wardrobe that want mending.' + +'God be praised for that, I haven't had work for a week past. And your +honour's lady housekeeper tells me that the clock is broken as well.' + +'What? you mend clocks too?' + +'Why yes, I've even got the tools to do it with. I'm also an +umbrella-mender and harness-maker, and I can glaze stewing-pans.' + +'If that is so you might spend the winter here. When can you begin?' + +'I'll sit down now and work through the night.' + +'As you like. Ask them to give you some tea in the kitchen.' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon, may I ask that the sugar might be +served separately?' + +'Don't you like your tea sweet?' + +'On the contrary, I like it very sweet. But I save the sugar for my +grandchildren.' + +The priest laughed at the Jew's astuteness. 'All right! have your tea +with sugar and some for your grandchildren as well. Walenty!' he called +out, 'bring me my fur coat.' + +The Jew began bowing afresh. 'With an entreaty for your Reverence's +pardon, I come from Slimak's.' + +'The man whose house was burnt down?' + +'Not that he asked me to come, your Reverence, he would not presume to +do such a thing, but his wife is dead, they are both lying in the +stable, and I am sure he has a bad thought in his head, for no one does +so much as give him a cup of water.' The priest started. + +'No one has visited him?' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon,' bowed the Jew, 'but they say in the +village, God's anger has fallen on him, so he must die without help.' +He looked into the priest's eyes as if Slimak's salvation depended on +him. His Reverence knocked his pipe on the floor till it broke. + +'Then I'll go into the kitchen,' said the Jew, and took up his bundle. +The sledge-bells tinkled at the door, the valet stood ready with the +fur coat. + +'I shall be wanted for the betrothal,' reflected the priest, 'that man +will last till to-morrow, and I can't bring the dead woman back to +life. It's eight o'clock, if I go to the man first there will be +nothing to go for afterwards. Give me my fur coat, Walenty.' He went +into his bedroom: 'Are the horses ready? Is it a bright night?' 'Quite +bright, your Reverence.' + +'I cannot be the slave of all the people who are burnt down and all the +women who die,' he agitatedly resumed his thoughts, 'it will be time +enough to-morrow, and anyhow the man can't be worth much if no one will +help him.'...His eyes fell on the crucifix. 'Divine wounds! Here I am +hesitating between my amusement and comforting the stricken, and I am a +priest and a citizen! + +Get a basket,' he said in a changed voice to the astonished servant, +'put the rest of the dinner into it. I had better take the sacrament +too,' he thought, after the surprised man had left the room, 'perhaps +he is dying. God is giving me another spell of grace instead of +condemning me eternally.' + +He struck his breast and forgot that God does not count the number of +amusements preferred and bottles emptied, but the greatness of the +struggle in each human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Within half an hour the priest's round ponies stood at Slimak's gate. +The priest walked towards the stable with a lantern in one hand and a +basket in the other, pushed open the door with his foot, and saw +Slimakowa's body. Further away, on the litter, sat the peasant, shading +his eyes from the light. + +'Who is that?' he asked. + +'It is I, your priest.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet, with deep astonishment on his face. He +advanced with unsteady steps to the threshold, and gazed at the priest +with open mouth. + +'What have you come for, your Reverence?' + +'I have come to bring you the divine blessing. Put on your sheepskin, +it is cold here. Have something to eat.' He unpacked the basket. + +Slimak stared, touched the priest's sleeve, and suddenly fell sobbing +at his feet. + +'I am wretched, your Reverence...I am wretched...wretched!' + +'Benedicat te omnipotens Deus!' Instead of making the sign of the +cross, the priest put his arm round the peasant and drew him on to the +threshold. + +'Calm yourself, brother, all will be well. God does not forsake His +children.' + +He kissed him and wiped his tears. With almost a howl the peasant threw +himself at his feet. + +'Now I don't mind if I die, or if I go to hell for my sins! I've had +this consolation that your Reverence has taken pity on me. If I were to +go to the Holy City on my knees, it would not be enough to repay you +for your kindness.' + +He touched the ground at the priest's feet as though it were the altar. +The priest had to use much persuasion before he put on his sheepskin +and consented to touch food. + +'Take a good pull,' he said, pouring out the mead. + +'I dare not, your Reverence.' + +'Well, then I will drink to you.' He touched the glass with his lips. + +The peasant took the glass with trembling hands and drank kneeling, +swallowing with difficulty. + +'Don't you like it?' + +'Like it? vodka is nothing compared to this!' Slimak's voice sounded +natural again. 'Isn't it just full of spice!' he added, and revived +rapidly. + +'Now tell me all about it,' began the priest: 'I remember you as a +prosperous gospodarz.' + +'It would be a long story to tell your Reverence. One of my sons was +drowned, the other is in jail; my wife is dead, my horses were stolen, +my house burnt down. It all began with the squire's selling the +village, and with the railway and the Germans coming here. Then Josel +set everyone against me, because I had been selling fowls and other +things to the surveyors; even now he is doing his best to...' + +'But why does everyone go to Josel for advice?' interrupted the priest. + +'To whom is one to go, begging your Reverence's pardon? We peasants are +ignorant people. The Jews know about everything, and sometimes they +give good advice.' + +The priest winced. The peasant continued excitedly: + +'There were no wages coming in from the manor, and the Germans took the +two acres I had rented from the squire.' + +'But let me see,' said the priest, 'wasn't it you to whom the squire +offered those two acres at a great deal less than they were worth?' + +'Certainly it was me!' + +'Why didn't you take the offer? I suppose you did not trust him?' + +'How can one trust them when one does not know what they are talking +among themselves; they jabber like Jews, and when they talked to me +they were poking fun at me. Besides, there was some talk of free +distribution of land.' + +'And you believed that?' + +'Why should I not believe it? A man likes to believe what is to his +advantage. The Jews knew it wasn't true, but they won't tell.' + +'Why didn't you apply for work at the railway?' + +'I did, but the Germans kept me out.' + +'Why couldn't you have come to me? the chief engineer was living at my +house all the time,' said the priest, getting angry. + +'I beg your Reverence's pardon; I couldn't have known that, and I +shouldn't have dared to apply to your Reverence.' + +'Hm! And the Germans annoyed you?' + +'Oh dear, oh dear! haven't they been pestering me to sell them my land +all along, and when the fire came I gave way....' + +'And you sold them the land?' + +'God and my dead wife saved me from doing that. She got up from her +deathbed and laid a curse upon me if I should sell the land. I would +rather die than sell it, but all the same,' he hung his head, 'the +Germans will pay me out.' + +'I don't think they can do you much harm.' + +'If the Germans leave,' continued the peasant, 'I shall be up against +old Gryb, and he will do me as much harm as the Germans, or more.' + +'I am a good shepherd!' the priest reflected bitterly. 'My sheep are +fighting each other like wolves, go to the Jews for advice, are +persecuted by the Germans, and I am going to entertainments!' + +He got up. 'Stay here, my brother,' he said, 'I will go to the +village.' + +Slimak kissed his feet and accompanied him to the sledge. + +'Drive across to the village,' he directed his coachman. + +'To the village?' The coachman's face, which was so chubby that it +looked as if it had been stung by bees, was comic in its astonishment: + +'I thought we were going...' + +'Drive where I tell you!' + +Slimak leant on the fence, as in happier days. + +'How could he have known about me?' he reflected. 'Is a priest like God +who knows everything? They would not have brought him word from the +village. It must have been good old Jonah. But now they will not dare +to look askance at me, because his Reverence himself has come to see +me. If he could only take the sin of my sending Maciek and the child to +their death from me, I shouldn't be afraid of anything.' + +Presently the priest returned. + +'Are you there, Slimak?' he called out. 'Gryb will come to you +to-morrow. Make it up with him and don't quarrel any more. I have sent +to town for a coffin and am arranging for the funeral.' + +'Oh Redeemer!' sighed Slimak. + +'Now, Pawel! drive on as fast as the horses will go,' cried the priest. +He pulled out his repeater watch: it was a quarter to ten. + +'I shall be late,' he murmured, 'but not too late for everything; there +will be time for some fun yet.' + +As soon as the sledge had melted into the darkness, and silence again +brooded over his home, an irresistible desire for sleep seized Slimak. +He dragged himself to the stable, but he hesitated. He did not wish to +lie down once more by the side of his dead wife, and went into the +cowshed. Uneasy dreams pursued him; he dreamt that his dead wife was +trying to force herself into the cowshed. He got up and looked into the +stable. Slimakowa was lying there peacefully; two faint beams of light +were reflected from the eyes which had not yet been closed. + +A sledge stopped at the gate and Gryb came into the yard; his grey head +shook and his yellowish eyes moved uneasily. He was followed by his +man, who was carrying a large basket. + +'I am to blame,' he cried, striking his chest, 'are you still angry +with me?' + +'God give you all that you desire,' said Slimak, bowing low, 'you are +coming to me in my time of trouble.' + +This humility pleased the old peasant; he grasped Slimak's hand and +said in a more natural voice: 'I tell you, I am to blame, for his +Reverence told me to say that. Therefore I am the first to make it up +with you, although I am the elder. But I must say, neighbour, you did +annoy me very much. However, I will not reproach you.' + +'Forgive me the wrong I have done,' said Slimak, bending towards his +shoulder, 'but to tell you the truth, I cannot remember ever having +wronged you personally.' + +'I won't mince matters, Slimak. You dealt with those railway people +without consulting me.' + +'Look at what I have earned by my trading,' said Slimak, pointing to +his burnt homestead. + +'Well, God has punished you heavily, and that is why I say: I am to +blame. But when you came to church and your wife--God rest her +eternally--bought herself a silk kerchief, you ought to have treated me +to at least a pint of vodka, instead of speaking impertinently to me.' + +'It's true, I boasted too early.' + +'And then you made friends with the Germans and prayed with them.' + +'I only took off my cap. Their God is the same as ours.' + +Gryb shook his clenched fist in his face. + +'What! their God is the same as ours? I tell you, he must be a +different God, or why should they jabber to him in German? But never +mind,' he changed his tone, 'all that's past and gone. You deserve well +of us, because you did not let the Germans have your land. Hamer has +already offered me his farm for midsummer.' + +'Is that so?' + +'Of course it is so. The scoundrels threatened to drive us all away, +and they have smashed themselves against a small gospodarz of ten +acres. You deserve God's blessing and our friendship for that. God rest +your dead wife eternally! Many a time has she set you against me! I'll +bear her no grudge on that account, however. And here, you see, all of +us in the village are sending you some victuals.' + +Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Grochowski. + +'I wouldn't believe Jonah, when he came to tell me all this,' he said, +'and you here, Gryb, too? Where is the defunct?' + +They approached to the stable and knelt down in the snow. Only the +murmuring of their prayers and Slimak's sobs were audible for a while. +Then the men got up and praised the dead woman's virtues. + +'I am bringing you a bird,' then said Grochowski, turning to Gryb; 'he +is slightly wounded.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'It's your Jasiek. He attempted to steal my horses last night, and I +treated him to a little lead.' + +'Where is he?' + +'In the sledge outside.' + +Gryb ran off at a heavy trot. Blows and cries were heard, then the old +man reappeared, dragging his son by the hair. The strong young fellow +was crying like a child. He looked dishevelled and his clothes were +torn; a bloodstained cloth was tied round his hand. + +'Did you steal the Soltys' horses?' shouted his father. + +'How should I not have stolen them? I did steal them!' + +'Not quite,' said Grochowski, 'but he did steal Slimak's.' + +'What?' cried Gryb, and began to lay on to his son again. + +'I did, father. Leave off!' wailed Jasiek. + +'My God, how did this come about?' asked the old man. + +'That's simple enough,' sneered Grochowski, 'he found others as bad as +himself, and they robbed the whole neighbourhood, till I winged him.' + +'What do you propose to do now?' asked old Gryb between his blows. + +'I'll mend my ways.'...'I'll marry Orzchewski's daughter,' wailed +Jasiek. + +'Perhaps this is not quite the moment for that,' said Grochowski, +'first you will go to prison.' + +'You don't mean to charge him?' asked his father. + +'I should prefer not to charge him, but the whole neighbourhood is +indignant about the robberies. However, as he did not do me personally +any harm, I am not bound to charge him.' + +'What will you take?' + +'Not a kopek less than a hundred and fifty roubles.' + +'In that case, let him go to prison.' + +'A hundred and fifty to me, and eighty to Slimak for the horses.' + +Gryb took to his fists again. + +'Who put you up to this?' + +'Leave off!' cried Jasiek; 'it was Josel.' + +'And why did you do as he told you?' + +'Because I owe him a hundred roubles.' + +'Oh Lord!' groaned Gryb, tearing his hair. + +'Well, that's nothing to tear your hair about,' said Grochowski. 'Come; +three hundred and thirty roubles between Slimak, Josel, and me; what is +that to you?' + +'I won't pay it.' + +'All right! In that case he will go to prison. Come along.' He took the +youth by the arm. + +'Dad, have pity, I am your only son!' + +The old man looked helplessly at the peasants in turn. + +'Are you going to ruin my life for a paltry sum?' + +'Wait...wait,' cried Gryb, seeing that the Soltys was in earnest. He +took Slimak aside. + +'Neighbour, if there is to be peace between us,' he said, 'I'll tell +you what you will have to do.' + +'What?' + +'You'll have to marry my sister. You are a widower, she is a widow. You +have ten acres, she has fifteen. I shall take her land, because it is +close to mine, and give you fifteen acres of Hamer's land. You will +have a gospodarstwo of twenty-five acres all in one piece.' + +Slimak reflected for a while. + +'I think,' he said at last,' Gawdrina's land is better than Hamer's.' + +'All right! You shall have a bit more.' + +Slimak scratched his head. 'Well, I don't know,' he said. + +'It's agreed, then,' said Gryb, 'and now I'll tell you what you will +have to do in return. You will pay a hundred and fifty roubles to +Grochowski and a hundred to Josel.' + +Slimak demurred. + +'I haven't buried my wife yet.' + +The old man's temper was rising. + +'Rubbish! don't be a fool! How can a gospodarz get along without a +wife? Yours is dead and gone, and if she could speak, she would say: + +"Marry, Josef, and don't turn up your nose at a benefactor like Gryb."' + +'What are you quarrelling about?' cried Grochowski. + +'Look here, I am offering him my sister and fifteen acres of land, four +cows and a pair of horses, to say nothing of the household property, +and he can't make up his mind,' said Gryb, with awry face. + +'Why, that's certainly worth while,' said Grochowski, 'and not a bad +wife!' + +'Aye, a good, hefty woman,' cried Gryb. + +'You'll be quite a gentleman, Slimak,' added Grochowski. + +Slimak sighed. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'that Jagna did not live to see +this.' + +The agreement was carried out, and before Holy Week both Slimak and +Gryb's son were married. By the autumn Slimak's new gospodarstwo was +finished, and an addition to his family expected. His second wife not +unfrequently reminded him that he had been a beggar and owed all his +good fortune to her. At such times he would slip out of the house, lie +under the lonely pine and meditate, recalling the strange struggle, +when the Germans had lost their land and he his nearest and dearest. + +When everybody else had forgotten Slimakowa, Stasiek, Maciek, and the +child, he often remembered them, and also the dog Burek and the cow +doomed to the butcher's knife for want of fodder. + +Silly Zoska died in prison, old Sobieska at the inn. The others with +whom my story is concerned, not excepting old Jonah, are alive and +well. + + + + + + + + +A PINCH OF SALT + +BY + +ADAM SZYMÁNSKI + + +It was in the fourth year of my exile to the metropolis of the Siberian +frosts, a few days before Christmas, when one of our comrades and +fellow-sufferers, a former student at the university of Kiev, who +hailed from Little-Russia, called in to give us some interesting news. +One of his intimate friends--also an ex-student and +fellow-sufferer--was to pass through our town on his way back from a +far-distant Yakut aúl,[1] where he had lived for three years; +he was due to arrive on Christmas Eve. + +[Footnote 1: _Aúl: a hamlet_.] + +We had repeatedly met people who knew the life in the nearer Yakut +settlements; now and then we had seen temporary or permanent +inhabitants of the so-called Yakut 'towns' of Vjerchojansk, Vihijsk, +and Kalymsk. But the nearer aúls and towns were populous centres of +human life in comparison to those far-off deserted and desolate places; +they gave one no conception of what the latter might be like. Certainly +the fact that the worst criminals, when they were sent to those +regions, preferred to return to hard labour rather than live in liberty +there, gave us an illustration of the charms of that life, yet it told +us nothing definite. + +Bad--we were told--very bad it was out there, but in what way bad it +was impossible to judge, even from the knowledge we had of life in less +remote regions. Who would venture to draw conclusions from the little +we knew as to the thousand small details which made up that grey, +monotonous existence? Who could clearly bring them before the +imagination? Only experience could reveal them in their appalling +nakedness. Of one thing we were certain, that was that in a measure as +the populousness decreases, and you move away in a centrifugal +direction from where we were, life becomes harder and more and more +distressing for human beings. In the south, on the wild high plateaus +of the Aldon; in the east, on the mountain slopes of the +Stanovoi-Chebret, where a single Tungus family constitutes the sole +population along a river of 300 versts; in the west on the desolate +heights of the Viluj, near the great Zeresej Lake; in the north at the +mysterious outlets of the Quabrera, the desert places of the Olensk, +Indigirika, and Kolyma, life becomes like a Danteësque hell, consisting +in nothing but ice, snow and gales, and lighted up by the lurid +blood-red rays of the northern light. + +But no! those deserts, equal in extent to the half of Europe, are only +the purgatory, not yet the real Siberian hell. You still find woods +there, poor, thin, dwarfed woods, it is true, but where there is wood +there is fire and vitality. The true hell of human torture begins +beyond the line of the woods; then there is nothing but ice and snow; +ice that does not even melt in the plains in summer--and in the midst +of that icy desert, miserable human beings thrown upon this shore by an +alien fate. + + + +I shall never forget the impression which any chance bit of information +on the characteristic features, the horrible details of that life, used +to make upon me. Even clearly defined facts and exact technical terms +bear quite a different aspect in the light of such unusual local +conditions. + +I have a vivid remembrance of a story told me by a former official; he +described to me how when he was stationed in V. as Ispravnik, 'a +certain gentleman' was sent out to him with orders to take him to the +settlement in Zaszyversk.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Pronounce: Zashiversk.] + +'You see, little brother,' said the ex-Ispravnik, 'the town of +Zaszyversk does exist. Even on a small map of Siberia you can easily +find it to the right of a large blank space; if you remember your +geography lessons you will even know that it is designated as "town out +of governmental bounds". An appointment to such a place means for an +official that he is expected to send in his resignation; as for the +towns, it means that they have been degraded by having ceased to be the +seat of certain local government. In this case there was a yet deeper +significance in the description, for the town of Zaszyversk does, as I +said, exist, but only in the imagination of cartographers and in +geography manuals, not in reality. So much so is it non-existent that +not a single house, not a yurta,[1] not a hovel marks the place which +is pointed out to you on the map. When I read the order I could not +believe my eyes, and though I was sober I reeled. I called another +official and showed him the curious document. + +[Footnote 1: Yurta: hut of the native Yakut.] + +'He was an old, experienced hand at the office, but when he saw this +order, the paper dropped from his hands. "Where to?" I asked. "To +Zaszyversk!" We looked at each other. Nice things that young man must +have been up to! There he stood, looked and listened and understood +nothing. + +'He was a handsome fellow but gloomy and stuck up. I asked him one +thing after another, was he in need of anything? and so on, but he +answered nothing but "Yes" or "No". Well, my little brother, I thought +to myself, you will soon sing a different tune! I ordered three troikas +to be brought round; he was put into the first with the Cossack who +escorted him, I was in the second with an old Cossack, who remembered +where this town of Zaszyversk had once stood, and the third contained +provisions; then we started. First we drove straight on for twenty-four +hours; during this time we still stopped at stations where we changed +horses, and we covered 200 versts. The second and third days we covered +150 versts, but we did not meet a living soul, and we spent the nights +in the large barnlike buildings without windows or chimneys and with +only a fireplace, which are found on the road; they are called +"povarnia". + +'Our prisoner was obviously beginning to feel rather bad, so he +addressed me from time to time; at last he tried to get information out +of me concerning the life in Zaszyversk. "How many inhabitants were +there? what was the town like? was there any chance of his finding +something to do there, perhaps private lessons?" But now it was my turn +to answer him: "Yes" or "No". On the fourth day, towards morning, we +entered upon a glacier. We had arrived in the region where the ice does +not disappear even in summer. When we had advanced ten versts on the +ice, the old Cossack showed me the place where sixty years ago a few +yurtas had stood which were called in geographical terms "Zaszyversk, +town out of governmental bounds". + +"Stop," I cried, "let the young gentleman get out; here we are! This is +the town of Zaszyversk...." + +'The man did not understand at once, he opened his eyes wide and +thought it was a joke, or that I had lost my reason. I had to explain +the situation to him.... At last he understood.' + +The ex-Ispravnik laughed dryly. 'Will you believe me or not?' he +continued. 'Look here, I swear by the cross'--he crossed himself +spaciously, bowing to the images of the saints--that fellow's eyes +became glassy... his jaws chattered as in a fever. It was a business! + +'And I, a tough old official, I put my hands to my forehead. You should +have seen how the gentleman's pride disappeared in a moment; he became +soft as wax and so humble... pliable as silk he was! + +'"I adjure you by the wounds of Christ," he cried, stretching out his +hands to me, "let the love of God come into your heart! I have not been +condemned to death, there is nothing very serious against me, I have +been too overbearing, that is all." + +'"Oh," I said, "well, you see, pride is a great sin." + +'And whether you will believe me or won't'--he crossed himself again--' +the man wept like a child when I told him I would take him to the +nearest Yakut yurta, at a distance of thirty versts from the town of +Zaszyversk, and I swear to you for the third time it was with joy that +he wept... although he was not much better off in that yurta....' + + + +It is easy to imagine how eagerly we received the news of the arrival +of a man who had actually been living somewhere at the end of the world +under conditions which had completely isolated him for three whole +years; yet it was said that he was returning into this world sound in +body and mind. We inhabitants of our own special town were not living +in the most enviable of circumstances either, but we all knew that they +were infinitely happier than they might have been. + +A passionate desire seized us to look upon that life out there in its +unveiled nakedness, its horrible cruelty. This curiosity meant more +than narrow selfishness; it had a special reason. + +The fact that a human being had been able to survive in that +far-distant world, bore witness to the strength and resistance of the +human spirit; the iron will and energy of the one doubled and steeled +the strength of all the others. + +What we had heard so far of those who were battling with their fate at +the end of the world had not been too comforting. Therefore the +question whether and how one could live and suffer there, was a vital +one for us. + +And now the news came unexpectedly that one of our own class, a man +closely allied to us by his intellectual development and a number of +ways and customs, had actually lived for three years in a yurta not +much better situated than the one behind the imaginary town of +Zaszyversk. This unknown youth, student of a university not our own, +became dear to us. We all--Russians, Poles, and Jews--bound together by +our common fate, made up our minds to celebrate his arrival, and as it +was timed for Christmas Eve, we were going to prepare a solemn feast in +his honour. + +As I was the one who had the greatest experience in culinary affairs, I +was charged with the arrangement of the dinner, supported by a young +student, and by the intense interest of the whole colony. I am sure +that neither I nor my dear scullion have ever in our lives before or +after worked as hard for two days in the kitchen as we did then. + +The student was not only a great collector of everything useful for our +daily life, he was also deeply versed in the knowledge of the Yakut in +general. While we were cooking and roasting we told one another the +most interesting things, and thus stimulated each other to such a +degree that the dinner, originally planned on simple lines, began to +assume Lucullian dimensions. + +We knew only too well how miserable the life in the nearest Yakut +yurtas was, that there was a want of the most necessary European food, +such as would be found in the poorest peasant's home; above all, the +want of bread--simple daily bread--was very pronounced among the poorer +populations. It was not surprising that we two, possessed by gloomy +pictures which we recalled to our memory, fell into a sort of +cooking-fever. Like a mother who remembers the favourite dishes of the +child she has not seen for a long time, and whom she expects home on a +certain day, we kept on racking our brains for, agreeable surprises for +our guest. One or the other would constantly ask: + +'What do you think, comrade, wouldn't he like this or that?' + +'Well, of course, he would thoroughly enjoy that. Just think, counting +the journeys, it must be a good five years since he has eaten food fit +for human beings.' + +'Shall we add that?' + +'All right!' + +And one of us ran to the market-place to fetch the necessary +ingredients from the shops, another secured kitchen utensils, and soon +another course enriched the menu. At last the supply of kitchen +utensils gave out, and want of time as well as physical exhaustion put +a stop to further exertions. Our enthusiasm had communicated itself to +all the participants of the feast, for they were all of a responsive +disposition, and declared themselves charmed with our inventiveness and +energy. I and my scullion were proud of our work. A huge fish, weighing +twenty pounds, which after much trouble we had succeeded in boiling +whole, was considered the crowning success of our labour and art. We +rightly anticipated that this magnificent fish, prepared with an +appallingly highly seasoned and salted sauce, would move the hardest +hearts. Also, we did not forget a small Christmas tree, and decorated +it as best we could in honour of our guest. + + + +At last the longed-for day came. The student started at dawn for the +nearest posting station to await the newcomer and bring him to us. +Before two o'clock, when it began to be dark, we were all assembled, +and soon after two the melancholy sound of the sleighbells announced +the arrival of the students. We hurriedly pulled on our furs and went +out. The sleigh and the travellers were entirely covered with snow, +long icicles hung from the horses' nostrils when they whipped into the +courtyard, they were covered with a fine crust of ice. Another moment +and they stood still in front of the door. Every man bared his +head...there were some who had grown grey in misery and sorrow. + + + +I will not describe our first greeting--I could not do so even if I +would. We did not know each other, and yet how near we felt! I doubt +whether it will ever fall to my share again to be one of a number of +human beings so different in birth and station in life, yet so nearly +related, so closely tied to each other as we were on the day when we +greeted our guest. + +He was small and thin--very thin. His complexion showed yellow and +black, much more than ours did; he seemed marked for life by an earthen +colour; his deeply sunk eyes were the only feature which was burning +with vitality, they had a phosphorescent glow. + +It had grown quite dark by the time he had changed his clothes and +warmed himself, and we were sitting down to our dinner. Noise and +vivacity predominated in our small abode; a cheerful mood rose like an +overflowing wave, washing away all signs of sorrow and bitterness. + +'Let us be cheerful!' + +Louder and louder this cry arose, now here, now there, and when our +guest took it up even the gloomiest faces brightened. We broke the +sacred wafer, then we emptied the first glasses. My industrious +scullion had been deeply moved by a folk-song from the Ukraine, one of +those songs rich in poetical feeling and simple metaphor which go +straight to the heart; he therefore got up to make the welcoming +speech, and, encouraged by the tears of joy which rose in the eyes of +our guest, he quite took possession of him. He told him that he and I +had worked uninterruptedly for two days and nights in the sweat of our +brows, so as to give him a noble repast after his many days of +privation and hunger; he forecast the whole menu, beginning with his +favourite Kutja, he drew close to him and put his arm round his neck, +laughing gaily, and seemingly inspiring him so that he wept tears of +joy. + +Our animated mood rose higher and higher. A storm of applause greeted +the first course. The student filled the guest's plate to the brim. At +last the harmonious rattle of the spoons replaced the laughing and +talking. 'Excellent,' was the universal verdict. + +My scullion was in raptures and loudly assented; finally he too became +silent and applied himself like us to his plate. + +But what in the name of God did this mean? We were all eating, only our +guest fumbled about with his spoon and stirred his soup without eating, +laughing the while with a suppressed, hardly audible laugh. + +'My God, what is it? why don't you eat, comrade?' several voices called +in unison. 'The scullion has been exciting him too much! Off with him! +Our guest must have serious people next to him.' The student obediently +changed places, and we turned to our food again. But still our guest +did not eat. + +What was the matter? We stopped eating and all eyes were turned +questioningly upon him. Our silent anxiety was sufficiently eloquent. +He perceived, felt it and said: + +'I... forgive me... I... my happiness... I am so sorry... I do not want +to trouble you, and I fear I shall spoil your pleasure. I beg you... I +entreat you, dear brothers, take no notice of me...it is nothing, it +will pass,' and he broke into a strange sobbing laugh. + +'Jesus, Mary!' we all cried, for we had not noticed before how +unnatural his laugh was; there was no further thought of eating; and +he, when he saw the general anxiety, mastered himself with an effort +and said rapidly amidst the general silence: + +'I thought you knew what the life was like that I have lived for three +years, but I see you don't know it; when I realized this I tried... +I... well, I tried while you were eating and drinking to swallow a +small piece of bread... just a tiny piece of bread... but I cannot do +it... I cannot! You see, for three years... three whole years I have +tasted no salt... I ate all my food without salt, and this bread is +rather salt--very salt in fact, it is burning and scorching me, and +probably all the other things are also very salt.' 'Certainly, some +were even salted too much in our haste and eagerness,' I answered +simultaneously with the student. + +'Well then, eat, beloved brothers, eat, but I cannot eat anything; I +shall watch you with great pleasure--eat, I beg you fervently!' and +with hysterical laughter and tears he sank back into his seat. + +Now we understood this laugh which was like a spasm.... + +Not one of us was able to swallow the food which he had in his mouth. + +The misery of the existence of which we had longed to know something +had lifted the veil off a small portion of its mysteries. + +We all dropped our spoons and hung our heads. + +How vain, how small appeared to us now the trouble we had taken about +the food, how clumsy our childish enjoyment! + +And while we looked at the ravaged face of our brother, convulsed with +spasmodic laughter and tears, a feeling of horror seized upon us.... + +We felt as if the spectre of death had risen from a lonely yurta +somewhere behind the lost town of Zaszyversk and was staring at us with +cold glassy eyes.... + +A dead silence brooded over the frightened assembly. + + + + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER + +A SIBERIAN SKETCH + +BY + +ADAM SZYMINSKI + + +I made his acquaintance accidentally; the chance which led to it was +caused by the peculiar conditions of the Yakut spring. My readers will +probably only have a very imperfect knowledge of the Yakut spring. + +From the middle of April onwards the sun begins to be pretty powerful +in Yakutsk; in May it hardly leaves the horizon for a few hours and is +roasting hot; but as long as the great Lena has not thrown off the +shackles of winter, and as long as the huge masses of unmelted snow are +lying in the taiga,[1] you can see no trace of spring. The snow is not +warmed by the earth, which has been frozen hard to the depth of several +feet, and this thick crust of ice opposes determined resistance to the +lifegiving rays, and only after long, patient labour does the sun +succeed in awakening to new life the secret depths of the taiga and the +queen of Yakut waters, 'Granny Lena', as the Yakut calls the great +river. + +[Footnote 1: Primaeval forest.] + +In the last days of the month of May, when this battle of vitalizing +warmth against the last remnants of the cruel winter is nearing its +end, the newly arrived European witnesses a scene which is without +parallel anywhere in the west. Every sound resembling a report, however +distant and indistinct, has a wonderful effect upon the people out in +the open; children and the aged, men and women are suddenly rooted to +the spot, turn to the east towards the river, crane their necks and +seem to be listening for something. + +If the peculiar sounds cease or turn out to be caused accidentally, +everybody quietly goes home. But if the reports continue, and swell to +such dimensions that the air seems filled with a noise like the firing +of great guns or the rolling of thunder, accompanied by subterranean +rushing like the coming of a great gale, then these silent people +become unusually animated. Joyful shouts of 'The ice is cracking! the +river is breaking! do you hear?' are heard from all sides; eagerly and +noisily the people run in all directions to carry the news into the +farthest cottages. Everybody knocks at the doors he passes, be they his +friends' or a stranger's; and calls out the magic word 'The Lena is +breaking!' These words spread like wildfire in many tongues through +far-off houses, yurtas and Yakut settlements, and whoever is able to +move puts on his furs and runs to the banks of the Lena. + +A dense crowd is thronging the banks, watching in fascination one of +the most beautiful natural phenomena in Siberia. + +Gigantic blocks of ice, driven down by the powerful waves of the broad +river, are packed to the height of houses--of mountains; they break, +they crash; covered with myriads of small needles of ice, they seem to +be floating in the sun, displaying a marvellous wealth of colour. + +But one must have lived here for at least one winter to understand what +it is that drives this crowd of human beings to the river banks. It is +not the magnificent display of nature that attracts them. + +In the long struggle against winter these people have exhausted all +their strength; for many months' they have been awaiting the vivifying +warmth with longing and impatience, now they hasten hither to witness +the triumph of the sun over the cruel enemy. + +An intense, almost childlike joy is depicted on the yellow faces of the +Yakuts, their broad lips smile good-naturedly and appear broader still, +their little black eyes glow like coals. The whole crowd is swaying as +if intoxicated. 'God be praised! God be praised!' they call to each +other, turn towards the huge icebergs which are now being destroyed by +the friendly element, and shout and rejoice over the defeat of the +merciless enemy, driven, crushed and annihilated by the inexorable +waves. + +When the ice-drifts on the Lena have come to an end, the earth quickly +thaws, although only to a depth of two feet. But nature makes the most +of the three months of warmth. Within a comparatively short time +everything develops and unfolds. + +The great plain of Yakutsk offers a charming spectacle; it is fertile, +and here and there cultivation already begins to show. Birchwoods, +small lakes, brushwood and verdant fields alternate and make the whole +country look like a large park, framed by the silver ribbon of the +Lena. The surrounding gloom of the taiga emphasizes the natural beauty +of the valley. This smiling plain in the midst of the wide expanse +reminds one of an oasis in the desert. + +The Yakut is by far the most capable of the Siberian tribes; he values +the gifts of the life-giving sun and enjoys them to the full. When he +escapes from his narrow, stinking winter-yurta he fills his hitherto +inhospitable country with life and movement; his energy is doubled, his +vitality pulsates with greater strength and intensity. When the +'Ysech', the feast of spring, is over, the animated mood of the +population does not abate in the least. The 'strengthening kumis', the +ambrosia of the Yakut gods, does not run dry in the wooden vessels, for +luxuriant grass covers the ground, and cows and mares give abundant +milk. + +The sight of the lovely plain and the joyful human beings delighting in +the summer had revived me also. This was my first summer in Yakutsk, +and I responded to it with my whole being. Daily I went for walks to +look at the beauty of the surrounding world, daily I took my sun bath. + + + +My walks usually led me to one of the Yakut yurtas; they are at long +distances from each other, lonely and scattered over the whole country. +You find them in whatever direction you may choose. + +Cold milk and kumis can be had in all these yurtas. It is true both +have the nasty smell which the stranger in this part of the world calls +'Yakut odour'; but during the long winter when milk other than from +Yakut yurtas was hard to procure, I had got used to this specific +smell, so that now it only produced a mild nausea. + +One of the many yurtas had taken my fancy, for it was charmingly +situated close to the woods in a corner of the raised banks of a long +stretch of lake. It belonged to an aged Yakut, well deserving of the +honourable designation 'ohonior', given to all the Yakut elders. + +The old man was living there with his equally aged wife and a young +fellow, a distant relation of his. Two cows and a calf, a few mares and +a foal constituted all their wealth. + +All the Yakuts are very inquisitive and loquacious. But my friend, the +honourable 'ohonior ', possessed these qualities in an unusually high +degree, and as he was able to speak broken Russian, I often took +occasion to call in for a little talk. + +First of all he wished to know who I was, where I came from and what +was my business here. Towards the Russians, whether strangers or +natives of Siberia, the Yakuts are always on their guard and +excessively obsequious. Every Russian, however poorly dressed, is +always the 'tojan', the master. Their behaviour towards the Poles, on +the other hand, is very friendly. No Yakut ever took the information +that I was not a Russian but a 'Bilak'--Polak--with indifference. + +'Bilak? Bilak? Excellent brother!' exclaimed even the most reticent +among them. The 'ohonior' and I therefore soon became friends, and when +he learned that in addition I was versed in the art of writing and +might be employed as secretary to the community and draw up petitions +to the 'great master'--the 'gubernator'--my value was immensely +increased, and this respect saved me from too great an intimacy. Owing +to this consideration I was always offered the best milk and kumis, and +when the old woman handed me a jug she carefully wiped it with her +fingers first, or removed every trace of dirt with her tongue. + +One day when I called in passing to drink my kumis, I found the +'ohonior' unusually excited; he was not only talkative, but also in +very great spirits. His tongue was a little heavy, although he showed +no sign of old age. It turned out that my honourable host had just +returned from the town, where he had indulged in vodka to warm his +feeble frame. + +'The Bilaks are good, are all good,' he stammered, while he crammed his +little pipe with tobacco, 'every Bilak is a clerk, or at least a +doctor, or even a smith, as good as a Yakut one. You are a good man +too, and you must be a good clerk; we all love the Bilaks, a Sacha[1] +never forgets that the Bilak is his brother. But will you believe it, +brother, it is not long since this is so? I myself was afraid of the +Bilaks as of evil spirits until about fifteen years ago, and yet I am +so old that the calves have grazed off the meadows seventy times before +my eyes. When I saw a Bilak, I would run like a hare wherever my feet +would carry me--into the wood or into the bushes, never mind where, so +long as I could escape from him. And not only I but everybody dreaded +the Bilaks, for, you see, people told each other dreadful things about +them, that they had horns and slew everybody, and so on.' + +[Footnote 1: The name by which the Yakuts call themselves.] + +I ascertained that these fairy-tales had had their origin in the town, +and reproached the old man for his credulity, but he bridled up at +once. + +'Goodness gracious! do you think we believed all that on hearsay? I +don't know about other people, but I and all my neighbours believed it +because our forefathers knew for certain that every Bilak was terrible +and dangerous.' + +The old man refreshed himself from the jug and continued: + +'Do you see, it was like this. My father was not yet born, my +grandfather was a little fellow for whom they were still collecting the +"Kalym"[1] when there came to this neighbourhood a Bilak with eyes of +ice,[2] a long beard and long moustaches; he settled here, not in the +valley but up on yonder mountainside in the taiga. That was not taiga, +as you see it now, but thick and wild, untouched by any axe. There the +Bilak found an empty yurta and settled in it.' + +[Footnote 1: The price for the future wife which is paid in cattle and +horses; it is collected early in the boy's life.] + +[Footnote 2: The black-eyed Yakuts speak thus of the blue-eyed races.] + +'But he had no sooner gone to live there than the taiga became +impassable at a distance of ten versts round the cottage. The Bilak ran +about with his gun in his hand, and when he caught sight of anyone he +covered him with his gun, and unless the man ran away he would pop at +him--but not for fun, he didn't mind whom he shot, even if it were a +Cossack. What he lived on? The gods of the taiga know! Nobody else did. +Every living thing shunned him like the plague. Those who caught sight +of him in the forest when he ran about like a devil said that at first +he wore clothes such as the Russian gentlemen wear who know how to +write, but later on he was dressed in skins which he must have tanned +himself. People said he got to look more and more terrible and wild. +His beard grew down to his waist, his face got paler and paler and his +eyes burnt like flames. Some years passed. Then one winter, at the time +of the worst frosts, when a murderous "chijus" broke,[1] he was not +seen for several days. As a rule he had been observed from a distance, +so the people gave notice in the town that someone should come and +ascertain what had happened to him. + +[Footnote 1: A column of frozen air, moving southwards. After a chijus, +corpses of frozen people are generally found.] + +'They came and closed in upon the cottage carefully. There was the +Bilak on the bed in his furs, all covered with snow, and in his hand he +held a cross. The Bilak was dead; perhaps hunger had killed him, +perhaps the frost, or maybe the devil had taken him. Now tell me, was +there no reason for us to be afraid of the Bilaks? Here was only a +single one who drove all the neighbourhood to flight, and now all of a +sudden a great many of you arrived? He! he! he! You know how to write, +brother, but you are yet very young! So you thought people had no good +reasons for their fears? Well, you see, you were mistaken. A Sacha is +cleverer than he looks!' + + + +This legend of a Pole who could not bear to look upon human beings--a +legend I repeatedly heard again later--made a deep impression upon me. +These woods, these fields where I was walking now had perhaps been +haunted by the unfortunate man, driven mad and wild with excess of +sorrow. + +Had his troubles been beyond endurance or had he been unable to bear +the sight of human wickedness and human misery? Or was it the +separation from his home, from those dear to him, that had broken him? + +Dominated altogether by these thoughts, I returned to the town without +paying heed to anything around me. I was walking fast, almost at a run, +when a long-drawn call coming from somewhere close by struck upon my +ear: + +'Kallarra! Kallarra!' + +At first I neither understood the call nor whence it came, but on +frequent repetition it dawned upon me that it proceeded from the bushes +at a little distance in front of me, and that it was meant to be the +Yakut call 'Come here, come here, brother!' I even divined, as I came +nearer, what manner of man it was that was calling. No Yakut, no +Russian, be he a native or a settler, could have mispronounced this +Yakut word so badly; it should have been 'Kelere!' + +Only my countrymen, the Masurs, could do such violence to the +beautiful, sonorous Yakut language. During my long sojourn in Yakutsk I +have never met a Masurian peasant who pronounced this word otherwise +than 'Kallarra'. + +Indeed, there he was, behind the bushes beyond a bridge spanning the +marsh or dried-up arm of the Lena--a man in the ordinary clothes of +deported criminals; he agitated his arms violently, and continually +repeated his call 'Kallarra'! + +This was addressed to a Yakut who became visible on the outskirts of +the brushwood, but it was in vain, for the wary Yakut had no intention +of drawing nearer. The caller must have realized this, for when he +arrived at the bridge he called once more 'Kalarč! you dog!' Then he +ceased and only swore to himself: 'May you burst, may you swell, you +son of a dog!' + +When he noticed me, he stood still. I came up to him and greeted him in +Polish, 'Praised be Jesus Christ!' + +The peasant could not get over his amazement. + +'Oh Jesus! where do you come from, sir?' he cried. + +We soon made friends. He lived somewhere in an uluse,[1] and had gone +into the town to hire himself out for work in the gold mines; he had +secured work and was to start at once, driving a herd of cattle to his +new abode. He was grazing them when I met him, and as some of them had +gone astray, and he was unable to drive them all across the bridge +singlehanded, he was waiting for someone to come along and help him. I +gladly lent him a hand, and when the herd had been got across the +bridge and was quietly going along, we began to talk. I asked him with +whom he was lodging. + +[Footnote 1: A settlement consisting of several yurtas.] + +'With Kowalski,' he said. + +I knew all the Poles in Yakutsk, but I had never heard of Kowalski. + +'Well, I mean Kowalski the carpenter.' + +Still I did not know whom he meant. + +'Who are his friends? whom does he go to see?' I inquired. + +'He is peculiar. They all know him, but he does not go to see them.' + +'How do you mean: he does not go to see them?' + +'How should he go to see them? He has got clump feet, he has lost his +toes with frostbite. When the wounds are closed he can just manage, but +when they are open he cannot even move about in his room.' + +'How does he manage to live?' + +'He does a little carpentering; he has a beautiful workshop and all +sorts of tools, but I tell you when he can't stand on his feet he can't +do carpentering. Then he is glad when people come and give him orders +for brushes--he can make beautiful brushes as well--for sweeping rooms +or for brushing clothes. But the rooms here are not swept much, and +people rarely brush their clothes either. Now he is ill again.' + +'Where does he come from? How long has he been here?' + +'He has been here a long time, there were only a few like us when he +came. But where he comes from, who he is--I see you don't know +Kowalski, or else you wouldn't ask. For you see, when I ask him, or one +of the gentlemen, or even the priest, who comes from Irkutsk, he only +answers: "Brother, God knows very well who I am and where I come from, +but it serves no purpose and is quite unnecessary that you should know +it too!" There you are! That's like him. So nobody asks him.' + +I inquired very particularly all the same where Kowalski lived. In my +imagination the 'Bilak' of the legend who fled from men and this lonely +carpenter were blended into one personality, I could not say why. I +felt that there must be a mysterious connexion as between all things +repeating themselves in the circle of time. Perhaps the great sorrow +which--I imagined--had died at the death of the Bilak was still living +on quite close to me, in a different shape, but just as great, no less +unbearable and fateful to him in whom it now dwelt. + + + +Since that day I had often guided my steps in the direction of +Kowalski's yurta. No fresh shavings were added to the old ones lying +about near the door and the little windows. They grew drier and blacker +every day; perhaps the man who had thrown them there.... I had not the +courage to enter. I kept on waiting for another day when perhaps fresh +shavings would be added, but none appeared and no noises of work were +audible. + +At last I made up my mind not to put it off any longer. I left my home +with this decision and had already reached a corner of his yurta, when +I heard a trembling, weak but pleasant voice singing. + +I sat down on the bench in front of the yurta, and I could distinctly +hear every word of a sentimental, gently melancholy little ditty which +had once been very popular in Poland: + + 'When the fields are fresh and green. + And the spring revives the world.' + +But after the third verse the singing suddenly ceased and a voice +called out gloomily: + +'Doggy, go and bark at the Almighty!' + +At first I did not know what this peculiar command meant, but after a +short pause I heard the thin bark of a dog, and as the gate of the +enclosure was open I drew nearer and saw in the wide open door of the +yurta a small black dog, tiny and light, repeatedly raising itself on +its hindlegs and barking up at the blue sky while it jumped and turned +about. + +Of course I went away and put off my visit to a more suitable occasion. + + + +At last I saw him. He was of middle stature, quite greyheaded, and he +looked very neglected. The ashen complexion common to all exiles +distinguished him in a high degree, so that it gave me pain to look +into his face with the black shadows. + +If he had not been talking, and moving about, it would have been hard +to guess that one was looking at a living being. And yet, glances like +lightning would sometimes dart from the large eyes surrounded by broad, +dark circles, and they showed that death had not yet numbed the inner +life of this moving corpse, but that he was still capable of emotion. + +As long as he was sitting I could bear the sight of his suffering face, +but when he got up I had to turn away my eyes, for then his clump-feet +seemed to cause him the greatest agony. + +He spoke Polish correctly and with a pure accent. He carefully avoided +any direct or indirect allusion to his past, and shrank equally from +information about his native country. He talked exclusively about the +present, principally about his dog, with whom he held long +conversations. Only once in the course of the few weeks during which I +visited him did he get animated: that was when I mentioned Plotsk; his +eyes shone as with a hidden fire while he asked: 'Do you know that +part?' + +I answered that I had lived there for a year, and he said, half to +himself: + +'I suppose it is all quite changed, so many years have passed. You +probably were not born at the time when I came to Siberia. In what part +of the province did you stay?' + +'Not far from Raciaz.' + +He opened his mouth, but he felt he had said too much, or that I was +listening with curiosity; enough--he only uttered a long-drawn 'Oh...' +and was silent again. + +This was the only allusion Kowalski ever made to his past. I felt +inclined to draw him out, but he knew how to parry these attempts in a +delicate way by calling his dog and saying to him while he caressed +him: 'Go, bark at the Almighty!' And the obedient creature would +continue for a long time to bark at the sky. + +As soon as Kowalski gave this order, it was a sure sign that he would +not open his mouth except for conversation about his dog, of which he +never tired. + +Although this dog was quite ordinary, he was in several ways +distinguished from his Yakut brothers. For one thing he had no name and +was simply addressed as 'Doggy', though he was his master's pet and was +attached to the house and enclosure. + +'Why didn't you give your dog a name?' I asked casually. + +'What's the good of a name? If people had not invented so many names +and called each other simply "Man", they would perhaps remember better +that we are all men together.' + +So the dog remained nameless. He was of a graceful and delicate build +and fast, quite unlike the heavier, thickset, thick-coated native dogs; +his hair was short, soft, and silky. His appearance had condemned him +to an isolated and lonely life. Attempts at participation in the canine +social life had failed deplorably; he had returned from these +expeditions lame and bleeding all over, and after some vain repetitions +he had given up the hope of satisfying his social instincts and did not +leave the enclosure any more. He was surprisingly sedate for his +delicate organism and thin, mobile little frame, but this was not the +calm sedateness of the strong, shaggy Yakut dogs, against whom he +obviously harboured a certain hatred and bitterness, because these big, +powerful creatures would not recognize the rights of the weak. Except +for his master, he showed no affection for anyone and accepted no +favours--perhaps he had no belief in them, and only responded to a +caress with a low growl. + + + +Some weeks passed and Kowalski was no better, on the contrary he seemed +to get worse with every day, and we were all convinced that this +illness was his last. God knows whether he was equally convinced, but +he certainly had a foreboding of his death, for he hardly ever talked +now. For a few days longer he obstinately struggled against the +weakness which was overpowering him, and walked about his yurta, even +tinkered at some brushes which he had begun; at last he gave it up and +took to his bed. One morning, when I had just sat down to my breakfast, +the locksmith Wladyslaw Piotrowski, Kowalski's nearest friend, came to +my window and asked me to accompany him to our patient. + +'It might ease his last hour when he sees that he is not quite +forsaken,' said the kind man. 'Perhaps you would like to take a book +with you,' he added. I took the New Testament and went with him. + +'Is he so very bad?' I asked on the way. + +'I should think so; he looks quite black and says himself that he is +sure he will die to-day.' + +We soon arrived at Kowalski's yurta. There was no trace of the usual +sick-room smell of medicines, for Kowalski believed neither in doctors +nor in medicines. But an air of sadness and desolation pervaded the +room. The little dog lay curled up under the bed, from which, +notwithstanding the open window, an unpleasant smell reminded one that +the sick man was no longer able to get up. + +He looked so unlike a living being that we concluded, on entering and +seeing him lying there with his eyes closed, that he was dead. The +locksmith went up to the bed, put his hand under the bedclothes and +touched his feet; they were cold. But Kowalski called out loudly and +emphatically as I had never heard him before: + +'I am alive! I am glad that you have come, for I should like to speak +to you of death.' + +The haste and anxiety with which these words were uttered bore out our +premonition that we had only just come in time; we looked at each +other; Kowalski caught this look and understood it. + +'I know,' he said, 'that I shall die soon, it would be vain to hide +from myself what I can see quite clearly. That is why I want to speak +to you. I was afraid no one would come... I was afraid no one would +hear what I have got to say and that he whom you call the Merciful God +would take away my power of speech... I thank you for your thought. May +you not be lonely either when your hour of death calls you from an +unhappy life.' + +Kowalski stopped; only his brow, which was alternately contracted and +smoothed, showed that the dying man was trying with his last remnant of +strength to collect his thoughts and to retain the last spark of life. + +It was early morning, and the sun threw two great sheaves of golden +rays through the window on to the wall where the bed stood. From the +wide expanse of fields and the archipelago of islands in the river, +redolent with luxurious vegetation, life and the echoes of life and +movement emanated like a melodious song, a great hymn of thanksgiving +in the bright sunshine; it penetrated to the bed of the dying man and +formed an indescribable contrast to what was passing inside the yurta. + +This brightness, this noise as of a great song of life, was like an +irony, like scorn levelled at the deathbed of this living corpse.... + + + +Meanwhile Kowalski had begun to speak. + +'Long ago,' he said--'it must be about forty years--I was exiled to the +steppes of Orenburg. I was young and strong, I trusted in God and had +confidence in men and in myself. I may have been right or I may have +been wrong, but I thought it was my duty not to leave my energy to the +chance of fate, but to try and find a wider field of activity than was +open to me in this country. Homesickness too urged me on, and after two +years I escaped.... + +'I was punished by being sent to Tomsk, but this did not daunt me. I +started my life afresh with renewed energy, lived on bread and water +until I had saved enough for what I needed, and escaped again.... + +'For this second flight I was punished as an obstinate backslider, and +it took several years before I could make another attempt, but that +time I got farther away than before. It was an unusually hard winter, I +had no money and only insufficient clothing. My feet were frostbitten, +and I lost my toes. That was a hard blow, especially as they sent me +beyond the Yenessi this time. + +'My situation was difficult; the country was dreary and desolate, it +was hard to earn a living. But although I had no toes I managed to +learn a trade or two, and one or the other used to bring me in a little +income, small but sure. + +'This time I waited six years, then, without regard for the state of my +feet, I started off again.... + +'You see, I had no more confidence in my strength. I was ill and +broken, it was not the same goal as before that drew me westwards.... I +wanted to die there... to die there.... + +'I dreamt of dying on my mother's grave as of a great happiness. + +'My life had been such that no one except my mother had ever been good +to me; I had had no sweetheart, no wife, no children.... + +'And now, feeling weak and forsaken, I longed for the grave of this one +being who had loved me. + +'In sleepless nights I felt her hand touching my head, her kiss and the +hot tears with which she took her last leave of me, conscious perhaps +that our separation would be eternal. I do not know even now whether +the longing for my mother or for my native land was the stronger. But +it was a hard pilgrimage this time. I could not walk fast because of +the wounds on my feet which kept breaking open. I often had to hide for +days in the woods like a wild animal. + +'Vultures and crows[1]--ill omens of the end--circled over my head, +scenting their prey. Worn out with hunger I broke down from time to +time, and...fool that I was, I always prayed. I implored the Almighty +God, the merciful God, the just God, the God of the poor, the God of +the forsaken: + +[Footnote 1: Siberian fugitives look upon them with superstition.] + +'"Help me, have mercy on me! Gracious Father! send me death, I ask for +no other mercy than death! I will give it to myself, but only +there...." + +'Two years passed before I reached the province of Perm. I had never +before got so far. My heart began to beat joyously, in my head there +was only one thought: "I shall see my beloved native soil, and I shall +die at my beloved mother's grave." When I left the Ural behind me I +definitely believed in my salvation, I threw myself down upon the +ground, and for a long, long time I lay there, sobbing and thanking God +for His grace and His mercy. But He, the Merciful, was only preparing +His last blow, and that same day.... Then they took me as far as +Yakutsk!... + +'Why did I live on so long in this misery? + +'Why did I wait here for such an end as this? + +'Because I wanted to see what God intended to do to me. 'Now see what +He has made of a human being who trusted Him like a child, who has +never known what happiness in this world meant, nor demanded it, who +has never received love from anyone but his mother and, although maimed +and crippled, has worked hard until the end, never stretched out his +hands for alms, never stolen or coveted his neighbours' possessions, +who has ever given away the half of what he had... see what He has made +of me!... + +'That is why I hate Him, no longer trust in Him....I don't believe in +His Saints or His Judgment or His Justice; hear me, brothers, I call +you to witness in the hour of my death, so that you should know it and +can testify to it before Him when you die.' + +He raised himself with an effort, stretched out his hands towards the +sun and called with a loud voice: + +'I, a dying worm, truly acknowledge Thee to be the God of the satiated, +the God of the wicked, the God of the impure, and that Thou hast ruined +me, a guiltless man!...' + + + +The sun had risen higher and was now gilding the bed of pain of this +living skeleton--terrible to behold in his loose skin. + +When he sank back exhausted, we were shocked, for we thought that he +would give up the ghost before we had time to comfort him and ease his +last hour. + +'Let us pray for him,' whispered the locksmith. We knelt down; with +trembling hands I pulled out the book; it opened of itself where a +bookmarker had been placed at the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of +St. John. + +Raising my voice I began to read: + +'I am the true Vine and My Father is the Husbandman.' + +The dying man's chest heaved violently, his eyes were closed. He was +now quite covered by the golden rays; it seemed as if the sun meant to +reward him at the last moment for his hard life, so closely did the +rays hug him, warming his stiff limbs, calming him, kissing him as a +mother kisses and caresses her drowsy child and wraps it round with her +own warmth. + +Kowalski was still alive. + +I continued to read the words of Christ, so full of power and faith and +deep, blessed hope: + +'If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated +you...' + +The inspiring words of the Comforter of sufferers and the caress of the +vivifying light eased the dying man's pain. He opened his eyes and two +great tears welled forth--the last tears which this man had to spare. + +The rays of the sun kissed the tears on his ashen countenance and made +them shine with divine light; it seemed as if they endeavoured to +present to their Creator in pure colours the burning fire which had +consumed this man and was concentrated in his tears. + +I read on: + +'Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the +world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall +be turned into joy...' + +The dying man tried to lift his hands, they fell back powerless, but he +murmured in a low, distinct voice: 'Lord, by Thy pain forgive me!' + +I could not read further. In silence we knelt, and the dog stood +between us, puzzled and looking at his master. Once more the dying +man's eyes turned towards us, he opened his mouth, and we heard him say +yet more slowly and weakly: 'Doggy, do not bark at the Almighty.' + +The faithful creature threw himself whining upon his master's limp +hand, from which the life had already fled. + +Kowalski's eyes closed, a short, dull rattle came from his throat, his +chest sank back, he stretched himself a little: the life of suffering +was ended. + + + +When we recovered ourselves we heard the violent barking of the dog, +who, without understanding his master's last wish, was faithfully +carrying out the sole duty of his life. He barked and growled +incessantly, and came back from time to time to the bed and his +master's limply hanging hand in expectation of the usual caress. + +But his master lay immovable, the cold hand hung stiffly; exhausted and +hoarse the dog ran out again into the enclosure. + +We left; but at a long distance from the yurta we could still hear the +barking of the senseless creature. + + + + +FOREBODINGS + + +TWO SKETCHES BY + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI[1] + +[Footnote 1: The accent on the Z softens the sound approximately to +that of the French g in _gele_.] + + + + +I had spent an hour at the railway station, waiting for the train to +come in. I had stared indifferently at several ladies in turn who were +yawning in the corners of the waiting-room. Then I had tried the effect +of making eyes at a fair-haired young girl with a small white nose, +rosy cheeks, and eyes like forget-me-nots; she had stuck out her tongue +(red as a field-poppy) at me, and I was now at a loss to know what to +do next to kill time. + +Fortunately for me two young students entered the waiting-room. They +looked dirty from head to foot, mud-bespattered, untidy, and exhausted +with travelling. One of them, a fair boy with a charming profile, +seemed absent-minded or depressed. He sat down in a corner, took off +his cap, and hid his face in his hands. His companion bought his ticket +for him, sat down beside him, and grasped his hand from time to time. + +'Why should you despair? All may yet be well. Listen, Anton.' + +'No, it's no good, he is dying, I know it.... I know... perhaps he is +dead already.' + +'Don't believe it! Has your father ever had this kind of attack +before?' + +'He has; he has suffered from his heart for three years. He used to +drink at times. Think of it, there are eight of us, some are young +children, and my mother is delicate. In another six months his pension +would have been due. Terribly hard luck!' + +'You are meeting trouble half-way, Anton.' + +The bell sounded, and the waiting-room became a scene of confusion. +People seized their luggage and trampled on each other's toes; the +porter who stood at the entrance-door was stormed with questions. There +was bustle and noise everywhere. I entered the third-class carriage in +which the fair-haired student was sitting. His friend had put him into +it, settling him in the corner-seat beside the window, as if he were an +invalid, and urging him to take comfort. It did not come easy to him, +the words seemed to stick in his throat. The fair-haired boy's face +twitched convulsively, and his eyelids closed over his moist eyes. + +'Anton, my dear fellow,' the other said, 'well, you understand what I +mean; God knows. You may be sure... confound it all!' + +The second bell sounded, and then the third. The sympathizing friend +stepped out of the carriage, and, as the train started, he waved an odd +kind of farewell greeting, as if he were threatening him with his +fists. + +In the carriage were a number of poor people, Jews, women with +enormously wide cloaks, who had elbowed their way to their seats, and +sat chattering or smoking. + +The student stood up and looked out of the window without seeing. Lines +of sparks like living fire passed by the grimy window-pane, and balls +of vapour and smoke, resembling large tufts of wool, were dashed to +pieces and hurried to the ground by the wind. The smoke curled round +the small shrubs growing close to the ground, moistened by the rain in +the valley. The dusk of the autumn day spread a dim light over the +landscape, and produced an effect of indescribable melancholy. Poor +boy! Poor boy! + +The loneliness of boundless sorrow was expressed in his weary look as +he gazed out of the window. I knew that the pivot on which all his +emotions turned was the anxiety of uncertainty, and that beyond the +bounds of conscious thought an unknown loom was weaving for him a +shadowy thread of hope. He saw, he heard nothing, while his vacant eyes +followed the balls of smoke. As the train travelled along, I knew that +he was miserable, tired out, that he would have liked to cry quietly. +The thread of hope wound itself round his heart: Who could tell? +perhaps his father was recovering, perhaps all would be well? + +Suddenly (I knew it would come), the blood rushed from his face, his +lips went pale and tightened; he was gazing into the far distance with +wide-open eyes. It was as if a threatening hand, piercing the grief, +loneliness and dread that weighed on him, was pointing at him, as if +the wind were rousing him with the cry: 'Beware!' His thread of hope +was strained to breaking-point, and the naked truth, which he had not +quite faced till that minute, struck him through the heart like a +sword. + +Had I approached him at that instant, and told him I was an omniscient +spirit and knew his village well, and that his father was not lying +dead, he would have fallen at my feet and believed, and I should have +done him an infinite kindness. + +But I did not speak to him, and I did not take his hand. All I wished +to do was merely to watch him with the interest and insatiable +curiosity which the human heart ever arouses in me. + + + + 'Let my fate go whither it listeth.' (_Oedipus Tyrannus_.) + +In the darkest corner of the ward, in the bed marked number +twenty-four, a farm labourer of about thirty years of age had been +lying for several months. A black wooden tablet, bearing the words +'Caries tuberculosa', hung at the head of the bed, and shook at each +movement of the patient. The poor fellow's leg had had to be amputated +above the knee, the result of a tubercular decay of the bone. He was a +peasant, a potato-grower, and his forefathers had grown potatoes before +him. He was now on his own, after having been in two situations; had +been married for three years and had a baby son with a tuft of flaxen +hair. Then suddenly, from no cause that he could tell, his knee had +pained him, and small ulcers had formed. He had afforded himself a +carriage to the town, and there he had been handed over to the hospital +at the expense of the parish. + +He remembered distinctly how on that autumn afternoon he had driven in +the splendid, cushioned carriage with his young wife, how they had both +wept with fright and grief, and when they had finished crying had eaten +hard-boiled eggs: but what had happened after that had all become +blurred--indescribably misty. Yet only partially so. + +Of the days in the hospital with their routine and monotony, creating +an incomprehensible break in his life, his memory retained nothing; but +the unchanging grief, weighing like a slab of stone on a grave, was +ever present in his soul with inexorable and brutal force during these +many months. He only half recalled the strange wonders that had been +worked on him: bathing, feeding, probing into the wound, and later on +the operation. He had been carried into a room full of gentlemen +wearing aprons spotted with blood; he was conscious also of the +mysterious, intrepid courage which, like a merciful hand, had supported +him from that hour. + +After having gazed at the awe-inspiring phenomena which surrounded him +in the semicircle of the hospital theatre, he had slept during the +operation. His simple heart had not worked out the lesson which sleep, +the greatest mistress on earth, teaches. After the operation everything +had been veiled by mortal lassitude. This had continued, but in the +afternoon and at night they had mixed something heavy, like a stone +ball, into his drinking-cup, and waves of warmth had flowed to the toes +of his healthy foot from the cup. Thoughts chased one another swiftly, +like tiny quicksilver balls through some corner of his brain, and while +he lay bathed in perspiration, and his eyelids closed of their own +accord, not in sleep but in unconsciousness, he had been pursued by +strange, half-waking visions. + +Everything real seemed to disappear, only dimly lighted, vacant space +remained, pervaded by the smell of chloroform. He seemed to be in the +interior of a huge cone, stretching along the ground like a tunnel. Far +away in the distance, where it narrowed towards the opening, there was +a sparkling, white spot; if he could get there, he might escape. He +seemed to be travelling day and night towards that chink along unending +spiral lines running within the surface of the tunnel; he travelled +under compulsion and with great effort, slowly, like a snail, although +within him something leapt up like a rabbit caught in a snare, or as if +wings were fluttering in his soul. He knew what was beyond that chink. +Only a few steps would lead him to the ridge under the wood... to his +own four strips of potato-field! And whenever he roused himself +mechanically from his apathy he had a vision of the potato-harvest. The +transparent autumn-haze in the fields was bringing objects that were +far off into relief, and making them appear perfectly distinct. He saw +himself together with his young wife, digging beautiful potatoes, large +as their fists. + +On the hillock, amid the stubble, the herdsmen were assembled in +groups, their wallets slung round them; they were crouching on their +heels, had collected dry juniper and lighted a fire; with bits of +sticks they were scraping out the baked potatoes from the ashes. The +rising smoke scented the air fragrantly with juniper. + +At times, when he was better and more himself, when the fever tormented +him less, he sank into the state of timidity and apprehension known +only to those harassed almost beyond human endurance and to the dying. +Fear oppressed him till his whole being shrank into something less than +the smallest grain; he was hurled by fearful sounds and overawing +obsessions into a bottomless abyss. + +At last the wound on his foot began to heal, and the fever to abate. +His mind returned from that other world to the familiar one, and to +reflecting on what was taking place before his eyes. But the nature of +these reflections had changed. Formerly he had felt self-pity arising +from terror; now it was the wild hatred of the wounded man, his +overpowering desire for revenge; his rage turned as fiercely even upon +the unfortunate ones lying beside him as upon those who had maimed him. +But another idea had taken even more powerfully possession of his mind; +his thoughts darted forward like a pack of hounds on the trail, in +frantic pursuit of the power which had thus passed sentence on him. + +This condition of lonely self-torment lasted a long while, and +increased his exasperation. + +And then, one day, he noticed that his healthy foot was growing stiff +and the ankle swelling. When the head-surgeon came on his daily rounds, +the patient confided his fear to him. The doctor examined the emaciated +limb, unobserved lanced the abscess, perceived that the probe reached +to the bone, rubbed his hands together and looked into the peasant's +face with a sad, doubtful look. + +'This is a bad job, my good fellow. It may mean the other foot; was +that what you were thinking of? And you are a bad subject. But we will +do it for you here; you will be better off than in your cottage, we +will give you plenty to eat.' And he passed on, accompanied by his +assistant. At the door he turned back, bent over the sick man, and +furtively, so that no one should see, passed his hand kindly over his +head. + +The peasant's mind became a blank; it was as if someone had unawares +dealt him a blow in the dark with a club. He closed his eyes and lay +still for a long time... until an unknown feeling of calm came over +him. + +There is an enchanted, hidden spot in the human soul, fastened with +seven locks, which no one and nothing but that picklock, bitter +adversity, can open. + +Through the lips of the self-blinded Oedipus, Sophocles makes mention +of this secret place. Within it are hidden marvellous joy, sweet +necessity, the highest wisdom. + +As the poor fellow lay silently on his bed, the special conception that +arose in his mind was that of Christ walking on the waves of the raging +sea, quelling the storm. + +Henceforward through long nights and wretched days he was looking at +everything from an immeasurable distance, from a safe place, where all +was calm and wholly well, whence everything seemed small, slightly +ludicrous and foolish, and yet lovable. + +'And may the Lord Jesus...may He give His peace to all people,' he +whispered to himself. 'Never mind, this will do as well for me!' + + + + + +A POLISH SCENE + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT[1] + +[Footnote 1: The stroke softens the l approximately to the sound of w.] + + +[The place is a solitary inn in Russian Poland, near the Prussian +frontier, kept by a Jew named Herszlik, part of whose occupation is to +smuggle emigrants for America by night across the border. Besides +emigrants and Herszlik are present an old beggar man and his wife or +'doxy', a couple of peasants drinking together, and Jan (or, in +diminutive form, Jasiek), a youth who has just escaped from a prison to +which he had been sentenced for an attack, under great provocation, on +a steward, and now creeps into the inn out of the surrounding forest.] + + + + +It was a night of March, a night of rain, cold, and tempest. + +The forest, cramped, stiff, soaked to its marrow, and agitated now and +then by an icy shiver, threw out its boughs in a sort of feverish panic +as if to shake the water from them, and roared the wild note of a +creature in torture. At times a damp snow stilled all to helpless +silence, broken by a passing groan or the cry of some frozen bird or +rattle of some body falling on the boughs. Then once more the wind +flung itself with fury on the woods, dug into their depths with its +teeth, tore off boughs, and with a roar of triumph whistled along the +glades and swept the forest as with a besom; or from out of the depths +of space huge mud-coloured clouds, like piles of rotting hay, strangled +the trees in their embrace, or dissolved in a cold unceasing drizzle +that might have penetrated a stone. The roads were deserted, flooded +with a mixture of mud and foul snow; the villages seemed dead, the +fields shrivelled, the rivers ice-fettered; man and life were to be +seen nowhere; night ruled alone. + +Only in the single inn of Przylecki shone a small light; it stood in +the middle of the forest at cross roads; a few cottages were visible on +the side of a hill: the rest was the mighty forest. + +Jasiek Winciorek pushed forward cautiously from the wood to the road, +and at sight of the blinking light walked stealthily to the window, +peeped in, then in timid perplexity drew back a few steps till a fresh +blast of wind froze him so that the poor boy turned back once more, +crossed himself, and entered. + +The inn was large, with a floor of clay, and a black ceiling resting on +walls out of the perpendicular; these had lost their whitewash, and +were pierced by two small windows half-choked up with straw. Directly +opposite the latter, behind a wooden railing, stood a cask resting on +other barrels, above which smoked the red glare of a naphtha lamp. Over +the room lay a dense darkness, only lightened now and then with flashes +from an expiring fire in a large old-world fire-place, before which sat +a pair of beggars. In a corner might be seen a number of persons +huddled together whispering mysteriously. By the cask were two +peasants, one clasping a bottle, the other holding out a glass; they +often drank healths to one another and nodded sleepily. A fat red +damsel was snoring behind the railing. Over all there spread a smell +compounded of whisky, sodden clay, and soaked rags. + +At times such a stillness fell on the room that one could hear the +sounds of the forest, the tinkle of the rain on the window-panes, the +crackling of the pine boughs in the fireplace. And then a low door +behind the railing opened with a creak, and there appeared the old grey +head of a Jew, dressed in his praying gown, and singing in a low voice, +while behind him shone a room lighted with small candles, from which +issued Sabbath smells and a quiet monotonous dreary sound of singing. +Jasiek drank a few glasses one after the other, gnawed half-consciously +some mouldy rolls as tough as leather, which he seasoned with a +herring, and looked now at the door, now at the window, or listened to +the murmur of the voices. + +'Marry, no, curse it, I won't marry!' suddenly shouted one of the two +peasants, knocking his bottle on the cask and spitting as far as the +shoulder of the beggar man at the fire. + +'But you must,' whispered the other, 'or repay the money.' + +'God! that's nothing! Jevka!'--this to the girl--'half a pint of +whisky! I pay!' + +'Money is a big thing, though a woman is a bigger.' + +'No, curse it, I won't marry! I'll sell myself, borrow, pay back the +money, rather than marry that harridan.' + +'Just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say to you.' + +'You won't get round me. I have said no, and that is no. Why, if I +must, I will run away to Brazil or the end of the world with those folk +yonder!' + +'Silly! just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say +to you.' + +They drank healths to one another several times, then began kissing, +then fell silent, for a child was crying in a corner, and a movement +began among the quiet timid crowd. + +A tall dried-up peasant appeared out of the darkness and walked out of +the inn. + +Jasiek moved up to the fire, for the cold was in his bones, and putting +his herring on a stick began to toast it over the coals. 'Move up a +bit,' he whispered to the beggar man, who had his feet on his wallet, +and though quite blind, was drying at the fire the soaked strips he +wore round his legs, and talking endlessly in a low voice to the woman +by him; she was cooking something and arranging boughs under a tripod +on which stood a pot. + +Jasiek got warmer, and steam as from a bucket of boiling water went up +from his long coat. + +'You are badly soaked,' whispered the beggar, sniffing. + +'I am,' said Jasiek in a whisper, shivering. The door creaked, but it +was only the thin peasant returning. + +'Who is that?' whispered Jasiek, tapping the beggar on the arm. + +'Those? I don't know him; but those are silly fools going to Brazil.' +He spat. + +Jasiek said not a word, but went on drying himself and moving his eyes +about the room, where the people, apparently grown uneasy, now talked +with increasing loudness, now fell suddenly silent, while every moment +one of them went out of the inn, and returned immediately. + +From the inner room the monotonous chant still reached them. A hungry +dog crept out from nowhere to the fire and began to growl at the +beggars, but getting a blow from a stick he howled with pain, settled +himself in the middle of the room, and with a piteous look gazed at the +steam rising from the pot. + +Jasiek was getting warmer; he had eaten his herring and rolls, but +still felt more sharply than ever that he wanted something. He minutely +searched his pockets, but not finding even a farthing there, doubled +himself together and gazed idly at the pot and the beams of the fire. + +'You want to eat--eh?' asked the beggar woman presently. + +'I have... a small rumbling in my belly.' + +'Who is it?' the beggar man softly inquired of the woman. + +'Don't be afraid,' she growled with malice: 'he won't give you a +threepenny bit, not so much as a farthing.' + +'A farmer?' + +'Yes, a farmer, like you: one who goes about the world'--and she took +the pot off the tripod. + +'And there are good people in the world--and wild beasts--and pigs out +of sties.... Hey?' said the beggar man, poking Jasiek with his stick. + +'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, not knowing what he said. + +'You have something on your mind, I see,' whispered the beggar. + +'I have.' + +'The Lord Jesus always said: "If you are hungry, eat; if you are +thirsty, drink; but if you are in trouble, don't chatter."' + +'Eat a little,' the woman begged the boy; 'it is beggars' food, but it +will do you good,' and she poured out a liberal portion on a plate. +From the bag she drew out a piece of brown bread and put it in the soup +unnoticed; then as he moved up to eat and she saw his worn grey face, +mere skin and bone, pity so moved her that she took out a piece of +sausage and laid it on the bread. + +Jasiek could not resist but ate greedily, from time to time throwing a +bone to the dog, who had crept up with entreating eyes. + +The beggar man listened a long time; then, when the woman put the pot +into his hands, he raised his spoon and said solemnly: + +'Eat, man. The Lord Jesus said, give a beggar a farthing and another +shall repay thee ten. God be with you!' + +They ate in silence, till in an interval the beggar rubbed his mouth +with his cuff and said: + +'Three things are needful for food to do you good--spirit, salt, bread. +Give us spirit, woman!' + +All three drank together and then went on eating. + +Jasiek had almost forgotten his danger and threw no more timid looks +around. He just ate, sated himself with warmth, sated slowly the +four-days' hunger that gnawed him, and felt peaceful in the quietness. + +The two peasants had left the cask, but the crowd in the corner on +benches or with their bags under their heads on the wet floor were +still quietly dreaming; and still came, but in ever sleepier tones, the +sound of singing from the inner room. And the rain was still falling +and penetrating the roof in some places; it dripped from the ceiling +and formed shining sticky circles of mud on the clay floor. And still +at times the wind shook the inn or howled in the fire-place, scattered +the burning boughs and drove smoke into the room. + +'There is something for you too, vagabond!' whispered the woman, giving +the rest of the food to the dog, who flitted about them with beseeching +eyes. + +Then the beggar spoke. 'With food in his belly a man is not badly off, +even in hell,' he said, setting down the empty pot. + +'God repay you for feeding me!' said Jasiek, and squeezed the beggar's +hand; the other did not at once let him go, but felt his hand +carefully. + +'For a few years you have not worked with your hands,' he murmured; but +Jan tore his hand away in a fright. + +'Sit down,' continued the beggar, 'don't be afraid. The Lord Jesus +said: "All are just men who fear God and help the poor orphan." +Fearnot, man. I am no Judas nor Jew, but an honest Christian and a poor +orphan myself.' + +He thought for a moment, then in a quiet voice said: + +'Attend to three things: love the Lord Jesus, never be hungry, and give +to a man more unfortunate than yourself. All the rest is just nothing, +rotten fancies. A wise man should never vex himself uselessly. Ho! we +know a dozen things. Eh, what do you say?' + +He pricked up his ears and waited, but Jasiek remained stubbornly +silent, fearing to betray himself; then the beggar brought out his bark +snuffbox, tapped it with his finger, took snuff, sneezed, and handed it +to the boy. Then, bending his huge blind face over the fire, he began +to talk in low monotonous tones. + +'There is no justice in the world; all men are Pharisees and rogues; +one man pushes another in front of him out of the way; each tries to be +the first to cheat the other, to eat him up. That wasn't the will of +the Lord Jesus. Ho! go into a squire's house, take off your cap, and +sing, though your throat is bursting, about Jesus and Mary and all the +Saints; then wait--nothing comes. Put in a few prayers about the Lord's +Transfiguration; then wait. Nothing again. No, only the small dogs +whine about your wallet and the maids bustle behind the hedges. Add a +litany--perhaps they give you two farthings or a mouldy bit of bread. +Curse you! I wish you were dirty, half-blind, and had to ask even +beggars for help! Why, after all that praying the whisky to wash my +throat with costs me more than they give!' He spat with disgust. + +'But are others better off, eh?' he continued, after a sniff. 'Jantek +Kulik--I dare say you know him--took a little pig of a squire's. And +what enjoyment did he have of it? Precious little. It was a miserable +creature, like a small yard dog; you could drown the whole body of him +in a quart of whisky. Well, for that he was arrested and put in prison +for half a year--and for what? for a miserable pig! as if a pig weren't +one of God's creatures too, and some were meant to die of hunger, and +some to have more than they can stuff into their throats. And yet the +Lord Jesus said: "What a poor man takes, that is as if you had given it +for My sake." Amen. Won't you take a drink?' + +'God repay you, but it has already turned my head a bit!' + +'Silly! the Lord Jesus himself drank at feasts. Drinking is no sin; it +is a sin, sure enough, to swill like a pig or to sit without talking +when good folk are gossiping, but not to drink the gift of God to the +bottom. You just drink my health,' he whispered resolutely. + +He drank himself from the bottle with a long gurgle in his throat; then +handing it to Jasiek, said merrily: + +'Drink, orphan. Observe only three things--to work the whole week, to +say your Paternoster, and on Sunday to give to the unfortunate, and +then you shall have redemption for your soul. Man, if you can't drink a +gallon, drink a quart!' + +Thereupon all fell silent. The woman was sleeping with her head +drooping by the extinct flame, the man had opened wide his +cataract-covered eyes at the glowing coals, and once and again nodded +vigorously. In the corner the whispers were silent; only the wind +struck the panes more violently than ever and shook the door, and from +the inner room burst forth the voices in an ecstasy, it seemed, of pity +or despair. + +Jasiek, overcome by the warmth of the whisky, felt sleepy, stretched +his legs out towards the fire, and felt an irresistible desire to lie +down. He fought against it with energetic movements, but every now and +then became utterly stiff and remembered nothing. A pleasant warm mist +compounded out of the beams of the fire, kindly words, and stillness, +wrapped him in darkness and a deep sense of freedom and security. At +times he woke suddenly, he could not have said why, glanced over the +room, or listened for a moment to the beggar, who was asleep but still +muttered: 'For all souls in Purgatory--Ave Maria, gratia plena,' and +then, 'Man, I tell you that a good beggar should have a stick with a +point, a deep wallet, and a long Paternoster.' Here he woke up, and +feeling Jasiek's eyes on him, recovered his wits and began to speak: + +'Hear what an old man says. Take a drop to my health, and listen. Man, +I tell you, be prudent, but don't force it into any one's eyes. Note +everything, and yet be blind to everything. If you live with a fool, be +a greater fool; with a lame man, have no legs at all; with a sick man, +die for him. If men give you a farthing, thank them as if it were a bit +of silver; if they set dogs on you, take it as your offering to the +Lord Jesus; if they beat you with a stick, say your Paternoster. + +'Man, I tell you, do as I advise and you shall have your wallet full, +your belly like a mountain, and you shall lead the whole world in a +string like silly cattle.... Eh, eh, I am a man not born to-day but one +that knows a dozen things. He that can observe the way of the world, no +trouble shall come to him. At the squire's house take your revenge on +the peasants; that is a sure farthing and perhaps a morsel from the +dinner; at the priest's abuse the peasants and the squires; that is two +farthings sure, and absolution too; and when you are in the cottages, +abuse everything, and you will eat millet and bacon, and drink whisky +mixed with fat.' + +Here he began to drowse, still murmuring incoherently, 'Man, I tell +you... for the soul of Julina... Ave Maria...', and rocked on the +bench. + +'Gratia plena... help a poor cripple!' This was the woman babbling in +her sleep, as she raised her head from the fire-place; but the man woke +up suddenly and cried, 'Be quiet, silly!' for the entrance door was +thrown loudly open, and there pushed in among them a tall yellow-haired +Jew. + +'On to the road,' he called in a deep voice, 'it's time'; and at once +the whole crowd of sleepers sprang to their feet, began to put their +loads on their backs, to get ready, to push forward into the middle of +the room and again for no reason to retire. A low tumult of +sound--abuse or complaint--burst from all: there were hot passages of +words, cries, curses, gesticulations, or the beginnings of muttered +prayers, noise, and crying children--but all kept under restraint, and +yet filling the gloomy blackened room with a sense of alarm. + +Jasiek awoke completely, and with his shoulders pressed to the now +cooling fireplace, looked round curiously at the people as far as he +could make them out. + +'Where are they going?' he asked the beggar. + +'To Brazil.' + +'Is it far?' + +'Ho! ho! it's the end of the world, beyond the tenth sea.' + +'And why?' + +'First because they are fools, and second because they are +unfortunate.' + +'And do they know the way?' Jasiek asked again, hugely astonished. + +But the beggar was no longer answering him; pushing on the woman with a +stick, he came forward into the middle of the room, fell on his knees, +and began in a sort of plaintive chant: + +'You are going beyond the seas, the mountains, the forests--to the end +of the world. The Lord Jesus bless you, orphans! The Virgin of +Czenstochowa keep you, and all the saints help you in return for the +farthing that you give to this poor cripple...To the Lord's +Transfiguration! Ave Maria....' + +'Gratia plena: the Lord be with you,' murmured the woman, kneeling at +his side. + +'Blessed art thou among women,' answered the crowd and pressed forward. + +All knelt; a subdued sobbing arose; heads were bowed; trusting and +resigned hearts breathed their emotions in prayer. A warm glow of trust +kindled the dull eyes and pinched faces, straightened the bent +shoulders, and gave them such force that they rose from their prayer +heartened and unconquerable. + +'Herszlik, Herszlik!' they called to the Jew, who had disappeared into +the inner room. They were eager now to go into that unknown world, so +terrible and yet so alluring for its very strangeness; eager to take on +their shoulders their new fate and to escape from the old. + +Herszlik came out armed with a dark lantern, counted the people, made +them range themselves in pairs, opened the door: they began to move +like some phantom army of misery, a column of ragged shadows, and +disappeared at once in the darkness and rain. For a moment there shone +in the gloom and amid the tossing trees the solitary light of their +guide, for a moment one could hear amid wailing a tremulous hymn, 'He +who casts himself on the care of the Lord....' Then the storm broke out +again in what seemed like the groan of dying masses. + +'Poor creatures! orphans!' whispered Jasiek; a wild grief filled his +heart. + +Then he returned to the inn, now dumb and dark, for the girl had +extinguished the light and gone to sleep, and the singing had ceased in +the inner room: only the beggar remained awake; he and the woman were +counting the people's alms. + +'A poor parish! two threepenny bits and five and twenty farthings--the +whole show! Ha! May the Lord Jesus never remember them or help them!' + +He went on babbling, but Jasiek no longer listened. Crouched in the +fire-place he hid himself as best he could in his still wet cloak and +fell into a stony sleep. + +A good while after midnight he was awakened by a sharp tug; a light +shone straight into his eyes. + +'Hey, brother, get up! Who are you? Have you your passport?' + +He came to his senses at once: two policemen stood over him. + +'Have you your passport?' the policeman asked again, shaking him like a +bundle of straw. + +But for answer Jasiek jumped to his feet and struck the man with his +fist between the eyes, so that he dropped his lantern and fell +backwards, while Jasiek darted to the door and ran out. The other +policeman chased him, and being unable to catch him, fired. + +Jasiek tottered a moment, shrieked, and fell in the mud, then jumped up +at once and was lost in the darkness of the forest. + + + + + + +DEATH + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + + +'Father, eh, father, get up, do you hear?--Eh, get a move on!' + +'Oh God, oh Blessed Virgin! Aoh!' groaned the old man, who was being +violently shaken. His face peeped out from under his sheepskin, a +sunken, battered, and deeply-lined face, of the same colour as the +earth he had tilled for so many years; with a shock of hair, grey as +the furrows of ploughed fields in autumn. His eyes were closed; +breathing heavily he dropped his tongue from his half-open bluish mouth +with cracked lips. + +'Get up! hi!' shouted his daughter. + +'Grandad!' whimpered a little girl who stood in her chemise and a +cotton apron tied across her chest, and raised herself on tiptoe to +look at the old man's face. + +'Grandad!' There were tears in her blue eyes and sorrow in her grimy +little face. 'Grandad!' she called out once more, and plucked at the +pillow. + +'Shut up!' screamed her mother, took her by the nape of the neck and +thrust her against the stove. + +'Out with you, damned dog!' she roared, when she stumbled over the old +half-blind bitch who was sniffing the bed. 'Out you go! will you...you +carrion!' and she kicked the animal so violently with her clog that it +tumbled over, and, whining, crept towards the closed door. The little +girl stood sobbing near the stove, and rubbed her nose and eyes with +her small fists. + +'Father, get up while I am still in a good humour!' + +The sick man was silent, his head had fallen on one side, his breathing +became more and more laboured. He had not much longer to live. + +'Get up. What's the idea? Do you think you are going to do your dying +here? Not if I know it! Go to Julina, you old dog! You've given the +property to Julina, let her look after you...come now...while I'm yet +asking you!' + +'Oh blessed Child Jesus! oh Mary....' + +A sudden spasm contracted his face, wet with anxiety and sweat. With a +jerk his daughter tore away the feather-bed, and, taking the old man +round the middle, she pulled him furiously half out of the bed, so that +only his head and shoulders were resting on it; he lay motionless like +a piece of wood, and, like a piece of wood, stiff and dried up. + +'Priest.... His Reverence...' he murmured under his heavy breathing. + +'I'll give you your priest! You shall kick your bucket in the pigsty, +you sinner...like a dog!' She seized him under the armpits, but dropped +him again directly, and covered him entirely with the feather-bed, for +she had noticed a shadow flitting past the window. Some one was coming +up to the house. + +She scarcely had time to push the old man's feet back into the bed. +Blue in the face, she furiously banged the feather-bed and pushed the +bedding about. + +The wife of the peasant Dyziak came into the room. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity...' growled the other, and glanced suspiciously at her out +of the corners of her eyes. + +'How do you do? Are you well?' + +'Thank God... so so...' + +'How's the old man? Well?' + +She was stamping the snow off her clogs near the door. + +'Eh... how should he be well? He can hardly fetch his breath any more.' + +'Neighbour... you don't say so... neighbour...' She was bending down +over the old man. + +'Priest,' he sighed. + +'Dear me... just fancy... dear me, he doesn't know me! The poor man +wants the priest. He's dying, that's certain, he's all but dead +already... dear me! Well, and did you send for his Reverence?' + +'Have I got any one to send?' + +'But you don't mean to let a Christian soul die without the sacrament?' + +'I can't run off and leave him alone, and perhaps...he may recover.' + +'Don't you believe it... hoho... just listen to his breathing. That +means that his inside is withering up. It's just as it was with my +Walek last year when he was so ill.' + +'Well, dear, you'd better go for the priest, make haste... look!' + +'All right, all right. Poor thing! He looks as if he couldn't last much +longer. I must make haste... I'm off...' and she tied her apron more +firmly over her head. + +'Good-bye, Antkowa.' + +'Go with God.' + +Dyziakowa went out, while the other woman began to put the room in +order; she scraped the dirt off the floor, swept it up, strewed +wood-ashes, scrubbed her pots and pans and put them in a row. From time +to time she turned a look of hatred on to the bed, spat, clenched her +fists, and held her head in helpless despair. + +'Fifteen acres of land, the pigs, three cows, furniture, clothes--half +of it, I'm sure, would come to six thousand... good God!' + +And as though the thought of so large a sum was giving her fresh +vigour, she scrubbed her saucepans with a fury that made the walls +ring, and banged them down on the board. + +'May you... may you!' She continued to count up: 'Fowls, geese, calves, +all the farm implements. And all left to that trull! May misery eat you +up... may the worms devour you in the ditch for the wrong you have done +me, and for leaving me no better off than an orphan!' + +She sprang towards the bed in a towering rage and shouted: + +'Get up! 'And when the old man did not move, she threatened him with +her fists and screamed into his face: + +'That's what you've come here for, to do your dying here, and I am to +pay for your funeral and buy you a hooded cloak... that's what he +thinks. I don't think! You won't live to see me do it! If your Julina +is so sweet, you'd better make haste and go to her. Was it I who was +supposed to look after you in your dotage? She is the pet, and if you +think...' + +She did not finish, for she heard the tinkling of the bell, and the +priest entered with the sacrament. + +Antkowa bowed down to his feet, wiping tears of rage from her eyes, and +after she had poured the holy water into a chipped basin and put the +asperges-brush beside it, she went out into the passage, where a few +people who had come with the priest were waiting already. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity.' + +'What is it?' + +'Oh nothing! Only that he's come here to give up... with us, whom he +has wronged. And now he won't give up. Oh dear me... poor me!' + +She began to cry. + +'That's true! He will have to rot, and you will have to live,' they all +answered in unison and nodded their heads. + +'One's own father,' she began again. '... Have we, Antek and I, not +taken care of him, worked for him, sweated for him, just as much as +they? Not a single egg would I sell, not half a pound of butter, but +put it all down his throat; the little drop of milk I have taken away +from the baby and given it to him, because he was an old man and my +father... and now he goes and gives it all to Tomek. Fifteen acres of +land, the cottage, the cows, the pigs, the calf, and the farm-carts and +all the furniture... is that nothing? Oh, pity me! There's no justice +in this world, none... Oh, oh!' + +She leant against the wall, sobbing loudly. + +'Don't cry, neighbour, don't cry. God is full of mercy, but not always +towards the poor. He will reward you some day.' + +'Idiot, what's the good of talking like that?' interrupted the +speaker's husband. 'What's wrong is wrong. The old man will go, and +poverty will stay.' + +'It's hard to make an ox move when he won't lift up his feet,' another +man said thoughtfully. + +'Eh... You can get used to everything in time, even to hell,' murmured +a third, and spat from between his teeth. + +The little group relapsed into silence. The wind rattled the door and +blew snow through the crevices on to the floor. The peasants stood +thoughtfully, with bared heads, and stamped their feet to get warm. The +women, with their hands under their cotton aprons, and huddled +together, looked with patient resigned faces towards the door of the +living-room. + +At last the bell summoned them into the room; they entered one by one, +pushing each other aside. The dying man was lying on his back, his head +deeply buried in the pillows; his yellow chest, covered with white +hair, showed under the open shirt. The priest bent over him and laid +the wafer upon his outstretched tongue. All knelt down and, with their +eyes raised to the ceiling, violently smote their chests, while they +sighed and sniffled audibly. The women bent down to the ground and +babbled: 'Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world.' + +The dog, worried by the frequent tinkling of the bell, growled +ill-temperedly in the corner. + +The priest had finished the last unction, and beckoned to the dying +man's daughter. 'Where's yours, Antkowa?' + +'Where should he be, your Reverence, if not at his daily job?' + +For a moment the priest stood, hesitating, looked at the assembly, +pulled his expensive fur tighter round his shoulders; but he could not +think of anything suitable to say; so he only nodded to them and went +out, giving them his white, aristocratic hand to kiss, while they bent +towards his knees. + +When he had gone they immediately dispersed. The short December day was +drawing to its close. The wind had gone down, but the snow was now +falling in large, thick flakes. The evening twilight crept into the +room. Antkowa was sitting in front of the fire; she broke off twig +after twig of the dry firewood, and carelessly threw them upon the +fire. + +She seemed to be purposing something, for she glanced again and again +at the window, and then at the bed. The sick man had been lying quite +still for a considerable time. She got very impatient, jumped up from +her stool and stood still, eagerly listening and looking about; then +she sat down again. + +Night was falling fast. It was almost quite dark in the room. The +little girl was dozing, curled up near the stove. The fire was +flickering feebly with a reddish light which lighted up the woman's +knees and a bit of the floor. + +The dog started whining and scratched at the door. The chickens on the +ladder cackled low and long. + +Now a deep silence reigned in the room. A damp chill rose from the wet +floor. + +Antkowa suddenly got up to peer through the window at the village +street; it was empty. The snow was falling thickly, blotting out +everything at a few steps' distance. Undecided, she paused in front of +the bed, but only for a moment; then she suddenly pulled away the +feather-bed roughly and determinedly, and threw it on to the other +bedstead. She took the dying man under the armpits and lifted him high +up. + +'Magda! Open the door.' + +Magda jumped up, frightened, and opened the door. + +'Come here...take hold of his feet.' + +Magda clutched at her grandfather's feet with her small hands and +looked up in expectation. + +'Well, get on...help me to carry him! Don't stare about...carry him, +that's what you've got to do!' she commanded again, severely. + +The old man was heavy, perfectly helpless, and apparently unconscious; +he did not seem to realize what was being done to him. She held him +tight and carried, or rather dragged him along, for the little girl had +stumbled over the threshold and dropped his feet, which were drawing +two deep furrows in the snow. + +The penetrating cold had restored the dying man to consciousness, for +in the yard he began to moan and utter broken words: + +'Julisha...oh God...Ju...' + +'That's right, you scream...scream as much as you like, nobody will +hear you, even if you shout your mouth off!' + +She dragged him across the yard, opened the door of the pigsty with her +foot, pulled him in, and dropped him close to the wall. + +The sow came forward, grunting, followed by her piglets. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came out of the sty and she banged the door, but returned +almost immediately, tore the shirt open on the old man's chest, tore +off his chaplet, and took it with her. + +'Now die, you leper!' + +She kicked his naked leg, which was lying across the opening, with her +clog, and went out. + +The pigs were running about in the yard; she looked back at them from +the passage. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came running up to her, squeaking; she brought out a bowlfull +of potatoes and emptied it. The mother-pig began to eat greedily, and +the piglets poked their pink noses into her and pulled at her until +nothing but their loud smacking could be heard. + +Antkowa lighted a small lamp above the fireplace and tore open the +chaplet, with her back turned towards the window. A sudden gleam came +into her eyes, when a number of banknotes and two silver roubles fell +out. + +'It wasn't just talk then, his saying that he'd put by the money for +the funeral.' She wrapped the money up in a rag and put it into the +chest. + +'You Judas! May eternal blindness strike you!' + +She put the pots and pans straight and tried to cheer the fire which +was going out. + +'Drat it! That plague of a boy has left me without a drop of water.' + +She stepped outside and called 'Ignatz! Hi! Ignatz!' + +A good half-hour passed, then the snow creaked under stealthy footsteps +and a shadow stole past the window. Antkowa seized a piece of wood and +stood by the door which was flung wide open; a small boy of about nine +entered the room. + +'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you? And not a drop +of water in the house!' + +Clutching him with one hand she beat the screaming child with the +other. + +'Mummy! I won't do it again.... Mummy, leave off.... Mumm...' + +She beat him long and hard, giving vent to all her pent-up rage. + +'Mother! Ow! All ye Saints! She's killing me!' + +'You dog! You're loafing about, and not a drop of water do you fetch +me, and there's no wood am I to feed you for nothing, and you worrying +me into the bargain?' She hit harder. + +At last he tore himself away, jumped out by the window, and shouted +back at her with a tear-choked voice: + +'May your paws rot off to the elbows, you dog of a mother! May you be +stricken down, you sow!... You may wait till you're manure before I +fetch you any water!' + +And he ran back to the village. + +The room suddenly seemed strangely empty. The lamp above the fireplace +trembled feebly. The little girl was sobbing to herself. + +'What are you snivelling about?' + +'Mummy...oh... oh...grandad...' + +She leant, weeping, against her mother's knee. + +'Leave off, idiot!' + +She took the child on her lap, and, pressing her close, she began to +clean her head. The little thing babbled incoherently, she looked +feverish; she rubbed her eyes with her small fists and presently went +to sleep, still sobbing convulsively from time to time. + +Soon afterwards the husband returned home. He was a huge fellow in a +sheepskin, and wore a muffler round his cap. His face was blue with +cold; his moustache, covered with hoar-frost, looked like a brush. He +knocked the snow off his boots, took muffler and cap off together, +dusted the snow off his fur, clapped his stiff hands against his arms, +pushed the bench towards the fire, and sat down heavily. + +Antkowa took a saucepan full of cabbage off the fire and put it in +front of her husband, cut a piece of bread and gave it him, together +with the spoon. The peasant ate in silence, but when he had finished he +undid his fur, stretched his legs, and said: 'Is there any more?' + +She gave him the remains of their midday porridge; he spooned it up +after he had cut himself another piece of bread; then he took out his +pouch, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, threw some sticks on the fire +and drew closer to it. A good while later he looked round the room. +'Where's the old man?' + +'Where should he be? In the pigsty.' + +He looked questioningly at her. + +'I should think so! What should he loll in the bed for, and dirty the +bedclothes? If he's got to give up, he will give up all the quicker in +there.... Has he given me a single thing? What should he come to me +for? Am I to pay for his funeral and give him his food? If he doesn't +give up now--and I tell you, he is a tough one--then he'll eat us out +of house and home. If Julina is to have everything let her look after +him--that's nothing to do with me.' + +'Isn't my father... and cheated us... he has. I don't care.... The old +speculator!' + +Antek swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and spat into the middle of +the room. + +'If he hadn't cheated us we should now have... wait a minute... we've +got five... and seven and a half... makes... five and... seven...' + +'Twelve and a half. I had counted that up long ago; we could have kept +a horse and three cows... bah!... the carrion!' + +Again he spat furiously. + +The woman got up, laid the child down on the bed, took the little rag +bundle from the chest and put it into her husband's hand. + +'What's that?' + +'Look at it.' + +He opened the linen rag. An expression of greed came into his face, he +bent forward towards the fire with his whole frame, so as to hide the +money, and counted it over twice. 'How much is it?' + +She did not know the money values. + +'Fifty-four roubles.' + +'Lord! So much?' + +Her eyes shone; she stretched out her hand and fondled the money. + +'How did you come by it?' + +'Ah bah... how? Don't you remember the old man telling us last year +that he had put by enough to pay for his funeral?' + +'That's right, he did say that.' + +'He had stitched it into his chaplet and I took it from him; holy +things shouldn't knock about in a pigsty, that would be sinful; then I +felt the silver through the linen, so I tore that off and took the +money. That is ours; hasn't he wronged us enough?' + +'That's God's truth. It's ours; that little bit at least is coming back +to us. Put it by with the other money, we can just do with it. Only +yesterday Smoletz told me he wanted to borrow a thousand roubles from +me; he will give his five acres of ploughed fields near the forest as +security.' + +'Have you got enough?' + +'I think I have.' + +'And will you begin to sow the fields yourself in the spring?' + +'Rather... if I shouldn't have quite enough now, I will sell the sow; +even if I should have to sell the little ones as well I must lend him +the money. For he won't be able to redeem it,' he added, 'I know what +I know. We shall go to the lawyer and make a proper contract that the +ground will be mine unless he repays the money within five years.' + +'Can you do that?' + +'Of course I can. How did Dumin get hold of Dyziak's fields?... Put it +away; you may keep the silver, buy what you like with it. Where's +Ignatz?' + +'He's run off somewhere. Ha! no water, it's all gone....' + +The peasant got up without a word, looked after the cattle, went in and +out, fetched water and wood. + +The supper was boiling in the saucepan. Ignatz cautiously crept into +the room; no one spoke to him. They were all silent and strangely ill +at ease. The old man was not mentioned; it was as if he had never been. + +Antek thought of his five acres; he looked upon them as a certainty. +Momentarily the old man came into his mind, and then again the sow he +had meant to kill when she had finished with the sucking-pigs. Again +and again he spat when his eyes fell on the empty bedstead, as if he +wanted to get rid of an unpleasant thought. He was worried, did not +finish his supper, and went to bed immediately after. He turned over +from side to side; the potatoes and cabbage, groats and bread gave him +indigestion, but he got over it and went to sleep. + +When all was silent, Antkowa gently opened the door into the next room +where the bundles of flax lay. From underneath these she fetched a +packet of banknotes wrapped up in a linen rag, and added the money. She +smoothed the notes many times over, opened them out, folded them up +again, until she had gazed her fill; then she put out the light and +went to bed beside her husband. + +Meanwhile the old man had died. The pigsty, a miserable lean-to run up +of planks and thatched with branches, gave no protection against wind +and weather. No one heard the helpless old man entreating for mercy in +a voice trembling with despair. No one saw him creep to the closed door +and raise himself with a superhuman effort to try and open it. He felt +death gaining upon him; from his heels it crept upwards to his chest, +holding it as in a vice, and shaking him in terrible spasms; his jaws +closed upon each other, tighter and tighter, until he was no longer +able to open them and scream. His veins were hardening till they felt +like wires. He reared up feebly, till at last he broke down on the +threshold, with foam on his lips, and a look of horror at being left to +die of cold, in his broken eyes; his face was distorted by an +expression of anguish which was like a frozen cry. There he lay. + +The next morning before dawn Antek and his wife got up. His first +thought was to see what had happened to the old man. + +He went to look, but could not get the door of the pigsty to open, the +corpse was barring it from the inside like a beam. At last, after a +great effort, he was able to open it far enough to slip in, but he came +out again at once, terror-stricken. He could hardly get fast enough +across the yard and into the house; he was almost senseless with fear. +He could not understand what was happening to him; his whole frame +shook as in a fever, and he stood by the door panting and unable to +utter a word. + +Antkowa was at that moment teaching little Magda her prayer. She turned +her head towards her husband with questioning eyes. + +'Thy will be done...' she babbled thoughtlessly. + +'Thy will...' + +'... be done...' + +'... be done...' the kneeling child repeated like an echo. + +'Well, is he dead?' she jerked out, '...on earth...' + +'... on earth...' + +'To be sure, he's lying across the door,' he answered under his breath. + +'... as it is in Heaven...' + +'... is in Heaven...' 'But we can't leave him there; people might say +we took him there to get rid of him--we can't have that...' + +'What do you want me to do with him?' + +'How do I know? You must do something.' + +'Perhaps we can get him across here?' suggested Antek. + +'Look at that now...let him rot! Bring him in here? Not if...' + +'Idiot, he will have to be buried.' + +'Are we to pay for his funeral?...but deliver us from evil...what are +you blinking your silly eyes for?...go on praying.' + +'... deliver...us...from...evil...' + +'I shouldn't think of paying for that, that's Tomek's business by law +and right.' + +'... Amen...' + +'Amen.' + +She made the sign of the cross over the child, wiped its nose with her +fingers and went up to her husband. + +He whispered: 'We must get him across.' + +'Into the house...here?' + +'Where else?' + +'Into the cowshed; we can lead the calf out and lay him down on the +bench, let him lie in state there, if he likes...such a one as he has +been!' + +'Monika!' + +'Eh?' + +'We ought to get him out there.' + +'Well, fetch him out then.' + +'All right...but...' + +'You're afraid, what?' + +'Idiot...damned...' + +'What else?' + +'It's dark...' + +'If you wait till it's day, people will see you.' + +'Let's go together.' + +'You go if you are so keen.' + +'Are you coming, you carrion, or are you not?' he shouted at her; 'he's +your father, not mine.' And he flung out of the room in a rage. + +The woman followed him without a word. + +When they entered the pigsty, a breath of horror struck them, like the +exhalation from a corpse. The old man was lying there, cold as ice; one +half of his body had frozen on to the floor; they had to tear him off +forcibly before they could drag him across the threshold and into the +yard. + +Antkowa began to tremble violently at the sight of him; he looked +terrifying in the light of the grey dawn, on the white coverlet of +snow, with his anguished face, wide-open eyes, and drooping tongue on +which the teeth had closed firmly. There were blue patches on his skin, +and he was covered with filth from head to foot. + +'Take hold,' whispered the man, bending over him. 'How horribly cold he +is!' + +The icy wind which rises just before the sun, blew into their faces, +and shook the snow off the swinging twigs with a dry crackle. + +Here and there a star was still visible against the leaden background +of the sky. From the village came the creaking noise of the hauling of +water, and the cocks crew as if the weather were going to change. + +Antkowa shut her eyes and covered her hands with her apron, before she +took hold of the old man's feet; they could hardly lift him, he was so +heavy. They had barely put him down on a bench when she fled back into +the house, throwing out a linen-rag to her husband to cover the corpse. + +The children were busy scraping potatoes; she waited impatiently at the +door. + +'Have done...come in!... Lord, how long you are!' + +'We must get some one to come and wash him,' she said, laying the +breakfast, when he had come in. + +'I will fetch the deaf-mute.' + +'Don't go to work to-day.' + +'Go...no, not I...' + +They did not speak again, and ate their breakfast without appetite, +although as a rule they finished their four quarts of soup between +them. + +When they went out into the yard they walked quickly, and did not turn +their heads towards the other side. They were worried, but did not know +why; they felt no remorse; it was perhaps more a vague fear of the +corpse, or fear of death, that shook them and made them silent. + +When it was broad day, Antek fetched the village deaf-mute, who washed +and dressed the old man, laid him out, and put a consecrated candle at +his head. + +Antek then went to give notice to the priest and to the Soltys of his +father-in-law's death and his own inability to pay for the funeral. + +'Let Tomek bury him; he has got all the money.' + +The news of the old man's death spread rapidly throughout the village. +People soon began to assemble in little groups to look at the corpse. +They murmured a prayer, shook their heads, and went off to talk it +over. + +It was not till towards evening that Tomek, the other son-in-law, under +pressure of public opinion, declared himself willing to pay for the +funeral. + +On the third day, shortly before this was to take place, Tomek's wife +made her appearance at Antek's cottage. + +In the passage she almost came nose to nose with her sister, who was +just taking a pail of dishwater out to the cowshed. + +'Blessed be Jesus Christ,' she murmured, and kept her hand on the +door-handle. + +'Now: look at that... soul of a Judas!' Antkowa put the pail down hard. +'She's come to spy about here. Got rid of the old one somehow, didn't +you? Hasn't he given everything to you... and you dare show yourself +here, you trull! Have you come for the rest of the rags he left here, +what?' + +'I bought him a new sukmana at Whitsuntide, he can keep that on, of +course, but I must have the sheepskin back, because it has been bought +with money I have earned in the sweat of my brow,' Tomekowa replied +calmly. + +'Have it back, you mangy dog, have it back?' screamed Antkowa. 'I'll +give it you, you'll see what you will have...' and she looked round for +an object that would serve her purpose. 'Take it away? You dare! You +have crawled to him and lickspittled till he became the idiot he was +and made everything over to you and wronged me, and then...' + +'Everybody knows that we bought the land from him, there are +witnesses...' + +'Bought it? Look at her! You mean to say you're not afraid to lie like +that under God's living eyes? Bought it! Cheats, that's what you are, +thieves, dogs! You stole the money from him first, and then.... Didn't +you make him eat out of the pig-pail? Adam is a witness that he had to +pick the potatoes out of the pig-pail, ha! You've let him sleep in the +cowshed, because, you said, he stank so that you couldn't eat. Fifteen +acres of land and a dower-life like that... for so much property! And +you've beaten him too, you swine, you monkey!' + +'Hold your snout, or I'll shut it for you and make you remember, you +sow, you trull!' + +'Come on then, come on, you destitute creature!' 'I... destitute?' + +'Yes, you! You would have rotted in a ditch, the vermin would have +eaten you up, if Tomek hadn't married you.' + +'I, destitute? Oh you carrion!' They sprang at each other, clutching at +each other's hair; they fought in the narrow passage, screaming +themselves hoarse all the time. + +'You street-walker, you loafer... there! that's one for you! There's +one for my fifteen acres, and for all the wrong you have done me, you +dirty dog!' + +'For the love of God, you women, leave off, leave off! It's a sin and a +shame!' cried the neighbours. + +'Let me go, you leper, will you let go?' + +'I'll beat you to death, I will tear you to pieces, you filth!' + +They fell down, hitting each other indiscriminately, knocked over the +pail, and rolled about in the pigwash. At last, speechless with rage +and only breathing hard, they still banged away at each other. The men +were hardly able to separate them. Purple in the face, scratched all +over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was +boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a +second time. + +At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, +tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh +Mary! Look at this pestiferous woman...curse those heathen...oh! +oh!...' she was only able to roar, leaning against the wall. + +Tomekowa, meanwhile, was cursing and shouting outside the house, and +banging her heels against the door. + +The spectators stood in little groups, taking counsel with each other, +and stamping their feet in the snow. The women looked like red spots +dabbed on to the wall; they pressed their knees together, for the wind +was penetratingly cold. They murmured remarks to each other from time +to time, while they watched the road leading to the church, the spires +of which stood out clearly behind the branches of the bare trees. Every +minute some one or other wanted to have another look at the corpse; it +was a perpetual coming and going. The small yellow flames of the +candles could be seen through the half-open door, flaring in the +draught, and momentarily revealing a glimpse of the dead man's sharp +profile as he lay in the coffin. The smell of burning juniper floated +through the air, together with the murmurings of prayers and the grunts +of the deaf-mute. + +At last the priest arrived with the organist. The white pine coffin was +carried out and put into the cart. The women began to sing the usual +lamentations, while the procession started down the long village street +towards the cemetery. The priest intoned the first words of the +Service for the Dead, walking at the head of the procession with his +black biretta on his head; he had thrown a thick fur cloak over his +surplice; the wind made the ends of his stole flutter; the words of the +Latin hymn fell from his lips at intervals, dully, as though they had +been frozen; he looked bored and impatient, and let his eyes wander +into the distance. The wind tugged at the black banner, and the +pictures of heaven and hell on it wobbled and fluttered to and fro, as +though anxious to display themselves to the rows of cottages on either +side, where women with shawls over their heads and bare-headed men were +standing huddled together. + +They bowed reverently, made the sign of the cross, and beat their +breasts. + +The dogs were barking furiously from behind the hedges, some jumped on +to the stone walls and broke into long-drawn howls. + +Eager little children peeped out from behind the closed windows, beside +toothless used-up old people's faces, furrowed as fields in autumn. + +A small crowd of boys in linen trousers and blue jackets with brass +buttons, their bare feet stuck into wooden sandals, ran behind the +priest, staring at the pictures of heaven and hell, and intoning the +intervals of the chant with thin, shivering voices: a! o!... They kept +it up as long as the organist did not change the chant. + +Ignatz proudly walked in front, holding the banner with one hand and +singing the loudest of all. He was flushed with exertion and cold, but +he never relaxed, as though eager to show that he alone had a right to +sing, because it was his grandfather who was being carried to the +grave. They left the village behind. The wind threw itself upon Antek, +whose huge form towered above all the others, and ruffled his hair; but +he did not notice the wind, he was entirely taken up with the horses +and with steadying the coffin, which was tilting dangerously at every +hole in the road. + +The two sisters were walking close behind the coffin, murmuring prayers +and eyeing each other with furious glances. + +'Tsutsu! Go home!...Go home at once, you carrion!' One of the mourners +pretended to pick up a stone. The dog, who had been following the cart, +whined, put her tail between her legs, and fled behind a heap of stones +by the roadside; when the procession had moved on a good bit, she ran +after it in a semi-circle, and anxiously kept close to the horses, lest +she should be prevented again from following. + +The Latin chant had come to an end. The women, with shrill voices, +began to sing the old hymn: 'He who dwelleth under the protection of +the Lord.' + +It sounded thin. The blizzard, which was getting up, did not allow the +singing to come to much. Twilight was falling. + +The wind drove clouds of snow across from the endless, steppe-like +plains, dotted here and there with skeleton trees, and lashed the +little crowd of human beings as with a whip. + +'... and loves and keeps with faithful heart His word...,' they +insisted through the whistling of the tempest and the frequent shouts +of Antek, who was getting breathless with cold: 'Woa! woa, my lads!' + +Snowdrifts were beginning to form across the road like huge wedges, +starting from behind trees and heaps of stones. + +Again and again the singing was interrupted when the people looked +round anxiously into the white void: it seemed to be moving when the +wind struck it with dull thuds; now it towered in huge walls, now it +dissolved like breakers, turned over, and furiously darted sprays of a +thousand sharp needles into the faces of the mourners. Many of them +returned half-way, fearing an increase of the blizzard, the others +hurried on to the cemetery in the greatest haste, almost at a run. They +got through the ceremony as fast as they could; the grave was ready, +they quickly sang a little more, the priest sprinkled holy water on the +coffin; frozen clods of earth and snow rolled down, and the people fled +home. + +Tomek invited everybody to his house, because 'the reverend Father had +said to him, that other-wise the ceremony would doubtless end in an +ungodly way at the public-house.' + +Antek's answer to the invitation was a curse. The four of them, +including Ignatz and the peasant Smoletz, turned into the inn. + +They drank four quarts of spirits mixed with fat, ate three pounds of +sausages, and talked about the money transaction. + +The heat of the room and the spirits soon made Antek very drunk. He +stumbled so on the way home that his wife took him firmly under the +arm. + +Smoletz remained at the inn to drink an extra glass in prospect of the +loan, but Ignatz ran home ahead as fast as he could, for he was +horribly cold. + +'Look here, mother...,' said Antek, 'the five acres are mine! aha! +mine, do you hear? In the autumn I shall sow wheat and barley, and in +the spring we will plant potatoes... mine... they are mine!... God is +my comfort, sayest thou...,' he suddenly began to sing. + +The storm was raging, and howling. + +'Shut up! You'll fall down, and that will be the end of it.' + +'... His angel keepeth watch...,' he stopped abruptly. The darkness was +impenetrable, nothing could be seen at a distance of two feet. The +blizzard had reached the highest degree of fury; whistling and howling +on a gigantic scale filled the air, and mountains of snow hurled +themselves upon them. + +From Tomek's cottage came the sound of funeral chants and loud talking +when they passed by. + +'These heathen! These thieves! You wait, I'll show you my five acres! +Then I shall have ten. You won't lord it over me! Dogs'-breed... aha! +I'll work, I'll slave, but I shall get it, eh, mother? we will get it, +what?' he hammered his chest with his fist, and rolled his drunken +eyes. + +He went on like this for a while, but as soon as they reached their +home, the woman dragged him into bed, where he fell down like a dead +man. But he did not go to sleep yet, for after a time he shouted: +'Ignatz!' + +The boy approached, but with caution, for fear of contact with the +paternal foot. + +'Ignatz, you dead dog! Ignatz, you shall be a first-class peasant, not +a beggarly professional man,' he bawled, and brought his fist down on +the bedstead. + +'The five acres are mine, mine! Foxy Germans,[1] you... da...' He went +to sleep. + +[Footnote 1: 'The term 'German' is used for 'foreigner' generally, whom +the Polish peasant despises.] + + + + + +THE SENTENCE + +BY + +J. KADEN-BANDKOWSKI + + + +'Yakob... Yakob... Yakob!' + +The old man was repeating his name to himself, or rather he was +inwardly listening to the sound of it which he had been accustomed to +hear for so many years. He had heard it in the stable, in the fields, +and on the grazing-ground, on the steps of the manor-house and at the +Jew's, but never like this. It seemed to issue from unknown depths, +summoning sounds never heard before, sights never yet seen, producing a +confusion which he had never experienced. He saw it, felt it +everywhere; it was itself the cause of a hopeless despair. + +This despair crept silently into Yakob's fatalistic and submissive +soul. He felt it under his hand, as though he were holding another +hand. He was as conscious of it as of his hairy chest, his cold and +starved body. This despair, moreover, was blended with a kind of +patient expectancy which was expressed by the whispering of his pale, +trembling lips, the tepid sweat under his armpits, the saliva running +into his throat and making his tongue feel rigid like a piece of wood. + +This is what happened: he tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come swarming in from everywhere; they had taken the men away; +it was firearms everywhere...everywhere firearms, noise and hubbub. The +whole world was pushing, running, sweating or freezing. They arrived +from this side or from that; they asked questions, they hunted people +down, they followed up a trail, they fought. Of course, one must not +betray one's brothers, but then...who are one's brothers? + +They placed watches in the mountains, in the forests, on the fields; +they even drove people into the mountain-passes and told them to hold +out at any cost. + +Yakób had been sitting in the chimney-corner in the straw and dust, +covered with his frozen rags. The wind swept over the mountains and +penetrated into the cottage, bringing with it a white covering of +hoar-frost; it was sighing eerily in the fields; the fields themselves +seemed to flee from it, and to be alive, running away into the +distance. The earth in white convulsions besieged the sky, and the sky +got entangled in the mountain-forests. + +Yakób was looking at the snow which was falling thickly, and tried to +penetrate the veil with his eyes. Stronger and faster raged the +blizzard. Yakób's stare became vacant under the rumbling of the storm +and the driving of the snow; one could not have told whether he was +looking with eyes or with lumps of ice. + +Shadows were flitting across the snowdrifts. They were the outlines of +objects lit up by the fire; they trembled on the window-frames; the +fire flickered, and the shadows treacherously caressed the images of +saints on the walls. The beam played on the window, threw a red light +on the short posts of the railing, and disappeared in pursuit of the +wind in the fields. + +'Yakób...Yakób...Yakób!' + +And he had really had nothing to do with it! It had all gone against +him continuously, pertinaciously, and to no purpose. It had attached +itself to him, clung to the dry flour that flew about in atoms in the +tin where the bit of cheese also was kept. It had bewitched the +creaking of the windows on their hinges; it had stared from the empty +seats along the walls. + +But he kept on beating his breast. His forehead was wrinkled in +dried-up folds, his brows bristled fantastically into shaggy, dirty tufts. +His heavy, blunt nose, powdered with hairs at the tip, stood out +obstinately between two deep folds on either side. These folds overhung +the corners of his mouth, and were joined below the chin by a network +of pallid veins. A noise, light as a beetle's wing, came in puffs from +the half-open lips; they were swollen and purple like an overgrown +bean. + +Yakób had been sitting in Turkish fashion, his hands crossed over his +chest, breathing forth his misery so quietly that it covered him, +together with the hoar-frost, stopped his ears and made the tufts of +hair on his chest glitter. He was hugging his sorrow to himself, +abandoning the last remnant of hope, and longing for deliverance. +Behind the wrinkles of his forehead there swarmed a multitude not so +much of pictures as of ghosts of the past, yet vividly present. + +At last he got up and sat down on the bench in the chimney-corner, drew +a pipe from his trouser-pocket and put it between his teeth, forgetting +to light it. He laid his heavy hands round the stem. Beyond the +blizzard and the shadow-play of the flame, there appeared to him the +scene of his wife and daughters' flight. He had given up everything he +possessed, had taken off his sheepskin, had himself loosened the cow +from the post. For a short moment he had caught sight of his wife and +daughters again in the distance, tramping through the snow as they +passed the cross-roads, then they had been swallowed up in a mass of +people, horses, guns, carts, shouts and curses. Since then he had +constantly fancied that he was being called, yet he knew that there was +no one to call him. His thoughts were entirely absorbed in what he had +seen then. With his wife all his possessions had gone. Now there was +nothing but silence, surrounding him with a sharp breath of pain and +death. + +By day and by night Yakob had listened to the shots that struck his +cottage and his pear-trees. He chewed a bit of cheese from time to +time, and gulped down with it the bitter fear that his cottage might be +set on fire. + +For here and there, like large red poppies on the snow, the glare of +burning homesteads leapt up into the sky. + +'Here I am...watching,' he said to himself, when he looked at these +blood-red graves. He smiled at the sticks of firewood on his hearth, +which was the dearest thing on earth to him. The walls of his cottage +were one with his inmost being, and every moment when he saw them +standing, seemed to him like precious savings which he was putting +away. So he watched for several days; the vermin were overrunning the +place, and he was becoming desperate. Since mid-day the silence had +deepened; the day declined, and there was nothing in the world but +solitude and snow. + +Yakób went over to the window. The snow was lying deep on the fields, +like a shimmering coat of varnish; the world was bathed in the light of +a pale, wan moon. The forest-trees stood out here and there in blue +points, like teeth. Large and brilliant the stars looked down, and +above the milky way, veiled in vapours, hung the sickle of the moon. + +While in the immensity of the night cold and glittering worlds were +bowing down before the eternal, Yakób looked, and noticed something +approaching from the mountains. Along the heights and slopes there was +a long chain of lights; it was opening out from the centre into two +lines on either side, which looked as though they were lost in the +forest. Below them there were confused gleams in the fields, and +behind, in the distance, the glow of the burning homesteads. + +'They have burned the vicarage,' thought Yakób, and his heart answered: +'and here am I...watching.' + +He pressed against the window-frame, glued his grey face to the panes +and, trembling with cold, sent out an obstinate and hostile glance into +space, as though determined to obtain permission to keep his own +heritage. + +Suddenly he pricked up his ears. Something was approaching from the +distance across the forest very cautiously. The snow was creaking under +the advancing steps. In the great silence it sounded like the forging +of iron. Those were horses' hoofs stamping the snow. + +This sound, suppressed as it was, produced in him a peculiar sensation +which starts in the head and grips you in the nape of the neck, the +consciousness that someone is hiding close to you. + +Yakob stood quite still at the window, not even moving his pipe from +one corner of his mouth to the other. Not he himself seemed to be +trembling, only his rags. + +The door was suddenly thrown open and a soldier appeared on the +threshold. The light of a lantern which was suspended on his chest, +filled the room. + +Yakob's blood was freezing. Cossacks, hairy like bears, were standing +in the opening of the door, the snow which covered them was shining +like a white flame. In the courtyard there were steaming horses; +lanceheads were glittering like reliquaries. + +Yakob understood that they were calling him 'old man', and asking him +questions. He extended his hands to express that he knew nothing. Some +of the Cossacks entered, and made signs to him to make up the fire. + +He noticed that they were bringing more horses into the yard, small, +shaggy ponies like wolves. + +He became calmer, and his fear disappeared; he only remained cautious +and observant; everything that happened seemed to take hours, yet he +saw it with precision. + +'It is cold...it is cold!' + +He made up the fire for these bandits who stretched themselves on the +benches; he felt they were talking and laughing about him, and he +turned to them and nodded; he thought it would please them if he showed +that he approved of them. They asked him about God knows what, where +they were, and where they were not. As though he knew! + +Then they started all over again, while they swung their booted legs +under the seats. One of them came up to the hearth, and clapped the +crouching Yakob on his back for fun, but it hurt. It was a resounding +smack. Yakob scratched himself and rumpled his hair, unable to +understand. + +They boiled water and made tea; a smell of sausages spread about the +room. Yakob bit his jaws together and looked at the fire. He sat in his +place as though he had been glued to it. + +His ears were tingling when he heard the soldiers grinding their teeth +on their food, tearing the skin off the sausages and smacking their +lips. + +A large and painful void was gaping in his inside. + +They devoured their food fast and noisily, and an odour of brandy began +to fill the room, and contracted Yakob's throat. + +He understood that they were inviting him to share the meal, but he +felt uneasy about that, and though his stomach seemed to have shrunk, +and the sausage-skins and bones which they had thrown away lay quite +close to him, he could not make up his mind to move and pick them up. + +'Come on!' + +The soldier beckoned to him. 'Come here!' + +The old man felt that he was weakening, the savoury smell took +possession of him. + +But 'I shan't go,' he thought. The soldier, gnawing a bone, repeated, +'Come on!' + +'I shan't go,' thought Yakob, and spat into the fire, to assure himself +that he was not going. All the same...the terribly tempting smell made +him more and more feeble. + +At last two of them got up, took him under the arms, and sat him down +between them. + +They made signs to him, they held the sausage under his nose; the tea +was steaming, the brandy smelt delicious. + +Yakob put his hands on the table, then put them behind him. Black +shadows were gesticulating on the walls. He felt unhappy about sharing +a meal with people without knowing what they were, never having seen or +known them before. They were Russians, thus much he knew. He had a +vision of something that happened long ago, he could not distinctly +remember what it was, for it happened so very long ago; his grandfather +had come home from the fair that was held in the town, shivering and +groaning. There had been outcries and curses. + +'They are going to poison me like a dog,' he thought. + +The wind was changing and moaning under the roof. The fire flickered up +and went down; the red flame and the darkness were dancing together on +the walls. The wan moon was looking in at the window. Yakob was sitting +on the bench among the soldiers like his own ghost. + +'They are surely going to poison me,' he kept repeating to himself. He +was still racking his memory as to what it was that had happened so +long ago to his grandfather during the fair, at the inn. God knows what +it was...who could know anything? + +'They are going to poison me!' + +His sides were heaving with his breath, he was trying to breathe +carefully, so as not to smell the repast. + +The shadows on the walls seemed to jeer at him. The soldiers were +beginning to talk thickly; their mouths, their fingers were shining +with grease. They took off their belts and laid their swords aside. The +one next to Yakob put his arm round his neck and whispered in his ear; +his red mouth was quite close; he passed his hand over Yakob's head, +and brought his arm right round his throat. He was young and he was +talking of his father. + +'Daddy,' he said, and put the sausage between his teeth. + +Yakob tried to clench his teeth; but he bit the sausage at the same +time. + +'Daddy,' said the young soldier again, holding out the sausage for +another bite; he stroked his head, looked into his eyes, and laughed. +Yakob was sorry for himself. Was he to be fed like a half-blind old +man? Couldn't he eat by himself? + +When the soldiers saw that Yakob was eating, they burst into shouts of +laughter, and stamped their feet, rattling their spurs. + +He knew they were laughing at him, and it made him easier in his mind +to see that he was affording them pleasure. He purposely made himself +ridiculous with the vague idea that he must do something for them in +payment of what they were giving him; they struck him on the +shoulder-blades to see him gasp with his beanlike mouth, and to see the +frightened smile run over his face like a flash of lightning. + +He ate as though from bravado, but he ate well. They started drinking +again. Yakob looked at them with eagerness, his arms folded over his +stomach, his head bent forward; the hairy hand of the captain put the +bottle to his mouth. + +Now he could laugh his own natural laugh again, and not only from +bravado, for he felt quite happy. His frozen body was getting warmed +through. + +He felt as if a great danger had irrevocably passed. + +Gradually he became garrulous, although they hardly understood what he +was talking about: 'Yes, the sausage was good... to be sure!' He nodded +his head and clicked his tongue; he also approved of the huge chunks of +bread, and whenever the bottle was passed round, he put his head on one +side and folded his hands, as if he were listening to a sermon. From +his neighbour's encircling black sleeve the old face peeped out with +equanimity, looking like a withering poppy. + +'Daddy,' the loquacious Cossack would say from time to time, and point +in the direction of the mountains; tears were standing in his eyes. + +Yakób put his swollen hand on his, and waited for him to say more. + +The soldier held his hand, pointed in the direction of the mountains +again, and sniffled. + +'He respects old age... they are human, there's no denying it,' thought +Yakób, and got up to put more wood on the fire. + +They seized hold of him, they would not allow him to do it. A young +soldier jumped up: 'Sit down, you are old.' + +Yakób held out his empty pipe, and the captain himself filled it. + +So there he sat, among these armed bandits. They were dressed in +sheepskins and warm materials, had sheepskin caps on their heads; there +was he with his bare arms, in well-worn grey trousers, his shirt +fastened together at the neck with a piece of wood. Sitting among them, +defenceless as a centipede, without anyone belonging to him, puffing +clouds of smoke, he inwardly blessed this adventure, in which +everything had turned out so well. The Cossacks looked at the fire, and +they too said: 'This is very nice, very nice.' + +To whom would not a blazing fire on a cold winter's night appeal? + +They got more and more talkative and asked: 'Where are your wife and +children?' They probably too had wives and children! + +'My wife,' he said, 'has gone down to the village, she was afraid.' +They laughed and tapped their chests: 'War is a bad thing, who would +not be afraid?' Yakób assented all the more readily as he felt that for +him the worst was over. + +'Do you know the way to the village?' suddenly asked the captain. He +was almost hidden in clouds of tobacco-smoke, but in his eyes there was +a gleam, hard and sinister, like a bullet in a puff of smoke. + +Yakób did not answer. How should he not know the way? + +They started getting up, buckled on their belts and swords. + +Yakób jumped up to give them the rest of the sausages and food which +had been left on the plates. But they would only take the brandy, and +left the tobacco and the broken meat. + +'That will be for you...afterwards,' said the young Cossack, took a red +muffler off his neck and put it round Yakob's shoulder. + +'That will keep you warm.' + +Yakób laughed back at him, and submitted to having the muffler knotted +tightly round his throat. The young soldier drew a pair of trousers +from his kitbag: 'Those will keep you warm, you are old.' He told him a +long story about the trousers; they had belonged to his brother who had +been killed. + +'You know, it's lucky to wear things like that. Poor old fellow!' + +Yakob stood and looked at the breeches. In the fire-light they seemed +to be trembling like feeble and stricken legs. He laid his hand on them +and smiled, a little defiant and a little touched. + +'You may have them, you may have them,' grunted the captain, and +insisted on his putting them on at once. + +When he had put them on in the chimney-corner and showed himself, they +were all doubled up with laughter. He looked appalling in the black +trousers which were much too large for him, a grey hood and the red +muffler. His head wobbled above the red line as if it had been fixed on +a bleeding neck. The rags on his chest showed the thin, hairy body, the +stiff folds of the breeches produced an effect as if he were not +walking on the ground but floating above it. + +The captain gave the command, the soldiers jumped up and looked once +more round the cottage; the young Cossack put the sausage and meat in a +heap and covered it with a piece of bread. 'For you,' he said once +more, and they turned to leave. + +Yakob went out with them to bid them Godspeed. A vague presentiment +seized him on the threshold, when he looked out at the frozen world, +the stars, like nails fixed into the sky, and the light of the moon on +everything. He was afraid. + +The men went up to their horses, and he saw that there were others +outside. The wind ruffled the shaggy little ponies' manes and threw +snow upon them. The horses, restless, began to bite each other, and the +Cossacks, scattered on the snow like juniper-bushes, reined them in. + +The cottage-door remained open. The lucky horseshoe, nailed to the +threshold, glittered in the light of the hearth, which threw blood-red +streaks between the legs of the table, across the door and beyond it on +to the snow. + +'I wonder whether they will ever return to their families?' he thought, +and: 'How queer it is that one should meet people like that.' + +He was sorry for them. + +The captain touched his arm and asked the way. + +'Straight on.' + +'Far?' + +'No, not far, not at all far.' + +'Where is it?' + +The little group stood in front of him by the side of their wolf-like +ponies. He drew back into the cottage. + +The thought confusedly crossed his mind: 'After all, we did sit +together and ate together, two and two, like friends.' + +He began hurriedly, 'Turn to the left at the crossroads, then across +the fields as far as Gregor's cottage...' + +The captain made a sign that he did not understand. + +He thought: 'Perhaps they will lose their way and make a fuss; then +they will come back to the cottage and eat the meat. I will go with +them as far as the cross-roads.' + +They crept down the road, passed the clump of pine-trees which came out +in a point beside the brook, and went along the valley on the slippery +stones. A large block of ice lay across the brook, shaped like a silver +plough; the waves surrounded it as with golden crescents. The snow +creaked under the soldiers' feet. Yakób walked beside them on his +sandals, like a silent ghost. + +'Now keep straight on as far as the cross,' he said, pointing to a dark +object with a long shadow. 'I can't see anything,' said the captain. He +accompanied them as far as the cross, by the side of which stood a +little shrine; the wan saint was wearing a crown of icicles. + +From that point the village could be seen across the fields. Yakób +discovered that the chain of lights which he had observed earlier in +the evening, had come down from the mountains, for it now seemed to be +close to the village. + +Silence reigned in the sleeping world, every step could be heard. + +This silence filled Yakób's heart with a wild fear; he turned round +with a feeling of helplessness and looked back at his cottage. Probably +the fire was now going out; a red glow appeared and disappeared on the +windows. + +Beyond the cross the road lay through low-lying ground, and was crossed +by another road which led abruptly downwards into fields. Yakob +hesitated. + +'Come on, old man, come on,' they called to him, and walked on without +waiting for his answer. The Cossacks dug their heels into the rugged +ice of the road, and tumbled about in all directions. They had left +their horses at the cross-roads. Each one kept a close hold on his gun, +so that there should be no noise. They were whispering to each other; +it sounded as if a congregation were murmuring their prayers. Yakób led +them, and mentally he held fast to every bush, every lump of ice, +saying to himself at every step that now he was going to leave them, +they could not miss the road now. But he was afraid. + +They no longer whispered, they had become taciturn as they pushed +onwards, stumbling, breathing hard. + +'As far as Gregor's cottage, and then no more!' + +The effect of the drink was passing off. He rubbed his eyes, drew his +rags across his chest. 'What was he doing, leading these people about +on this night?' + +He suddenly stopped where the field-road crossed theirs; the soldiers +in front and behind threw themselves down. It was as if the ground had +swallowed them. + +A black horse was standing in the middle of the road, with extended +nostrils. Its black mane, covered with hoar-frost, was tossed about its +head; the saddle-bags, which were fur-lined, swung in the breeze; large +dark drops were falling from its leg to the ground. + +'Damn it!' cursed the captain. + +The horse looked meekly at them, and stretched its head forward +submissively. Yakób was sorry for the creature; perhaps one could do +something for it. He stood still beside it, and again pointed out the +road. + +'I have done enough, I shan't go any further!' He scratched his head +and smiled, thinking that this was a good opportunity for escape. + +'Come on,' hissed the captain so venomously in his ear that he marched +forward without delay; they followed. + +A dull fear mixed with resentment gripped him with terrible force. He +now ran at the head like a sheep worried by watch-dogs. + +They stopped in front of the cottage, silent, breathless, expectant. + +Yakob looked at his companions with boundless astonishment. Their faces +under their fur-caps had a tense, cruel look, their brows were +wrinkled, their eyes glittered. + +From all sides other Cossacks were advancing. + +He noticed only now that there were some lying concealed behind the +fence on the straw in a confused mass. + +He shuddered; thick drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. The +beating of his heart filled his head like the noise of a hammer, it +seemed to fill everything. In spite of the feeling that he was being +forced to do this thing, he again heard the voice calling: 'Yakob, +Yakob!' + +Up the hillock where Gregor's cottage stood, they advanced on all +fours. + +He clambered upwards, thinking of his wife, and of the cow he had +loosed. Fear veiled his eyes, he saw black spots dancing. + +Gregor's cottage was empty as a graveyard. It had been abandoned; the +open doors creaked on their hinges. Under the window stood a cradle, +covered with snow. + +Silently the soldiers surrounded the cottage, and Yakob went with them, +as though mesmerized by terror, mute and miserable. + +They had hardly got round, when a red glow shot up from the other side +of the village. The soldiers threw themselves down in the snow. + +The thundering of guns began on all sides; blood-red lights came flying +overhead. An appalling noise broke out, reinforced by the echo from the +mountains, as though the whole world were going to perish. The Cossacks +advanced, trembling. + +Yakob advanced with them, for the captain had hit him across the head. +He saw stars when he received the blow, gesticulated wildly, and +staggered along the road. + +He could distinguish the road running out from the forest like a silver +thread. As they advanced, they came under a diabolically heavy rifle +fire; bullets were raining upon them from all sides. + +Here and there he heard moans already, when one of the soldiers fell +bleeding on the snow. Close to him fell the young Cossack who had given +him the muffler and breeches. He held out his hand, groaning. Yakob +wanted to stop, but the captain would not let him, but rapped him over +the head again with his knuckles. + +The soldiers lay in heaps. The rest wavered, fell back, hid in the +ditch or threw themselves down. The rifle-fire came nearer, the +outlines and faces of the advancing enemy could already be +distinguished. Another blow on the head stretched Yakob to the ground, +and he feigned death. The Cossacks retreated, the others advanced, and +he understood that they belonged to his friends. + +When he got up, he was immediately surrounded by them, taken by the +scruff of the neck and so violently shaken, that he tumbled on his +knees. Gunfire was roaring from the mountains, shadows of soldiers +flitted past him, the wounded Cossacks groaned in the snow. Young, +well-nourished looking men were bending over him. + +Looking up into their faces, he crossed his hands over his chest and +laughed joyfully. + +'Ah, those Russians, those Russians...the villains!' he croaked, 'aho, +aho, ho hurlai!' He rolled his tear-filled eyes. + +Things were happening thick and fast. From where the chimney stood +close to the water, near the manor-house, the village was burning. He +could feel the heat and soot and hear the shouting of the crowd through +the noise of the gunfire. Now he would see his wife and children again, +the friendly soldiers surely had saved them. The young Cossack was +still struggling on the ground; now he stretched himself out for his +eternal sleep. 'Ah, the villains!' Yakob repeated; the great happiness +which filled his heart rushed to his lips in incoherent babblings. 'The +villains, they have served me nicely!' + +He felt his bleeding head, crouched on his heels and got up. The fleshy +red faces were still passing close to him, breathing harder and harder. +Fear rose and fell in him like the flames of the burning village; again +everything was swallowed up in indescribable noise. + +Suddenly Yakób began to sob; he threw himself down at the soldiers' +feet and wept bitterly, as though he would weep out his soul and the +marrow of his bones. + +They lifted him up, almost unconscious, and took him along the high +road, under escort with fixed bayonets. His tears fell fast upon the +snow, and thus he came into his own village, among his own people, pale +as a corpse, with poison in his heart. + +He looked dully at the blazing wooden church-spire where it stood +enveloped in flames as though wrapped in an inflated glittering cloak. +Dully he let his eyes wander over the hedges and fences; everything +seemed unreal, as things seen across a distant wave or a downpour of +rain, out of reach and strange. + +He was standing where the field-path joined the high road. The soldiers +sat down on a heap of stones and lighted their cigarettes. + +Yakób, trembling all over, looked at his own black shadow; fugitives +arrived from the burning village and swarmed past him; the rifle fire +now sounded from the direction of the mountains. + +Suddenly Gregor's cottage burst into flames. A blood-red glow inflated +the clouds of smoke, trembled on the snow and ran over the pine-trees +like gold. + +Soldiers were arriving from that direction, streaming with blood, +supported by their comrades. + +Yakób stood motionless, looking at his shadow; fear was burning within +him. He looked at the sky above the awful chaos on the earth, and +became calmer. He tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come, had given him food. His wife and children were probably +safe in the manor-house. Blinking his swollen eyelids, he tried to +deceive himself, crouched down near the guard who was smoking, and +asked him for fire. His fear miraculously disappeared. + +He began to talk rapidly to the soldier: 'I was sitting...the wind was +moaning...' he told him circumstantially how he was sitting, what he +had been thinking, how the shots had struck his cottage. + +The soldier put his rifle between his knees, crossed his hands over his +sleeves, spat out and sighed. + +'But you have had underhand dealings with the Russians.' + +'No...no.' + +'Tell that to another.' + +'I shall,' replied Yakob calmly. + +'And who showed them the way?' + +'Who?' said Yakob. + +'Who showed them the way over here? Or did they find it on the map?' + +'Yes, on the map,' assented Yakob, as though he were quite convinced. + +'Well, who did?' said the soldier, wagging his head. + +'Who?' repeated Yakob like an echo. + +'I suppose it wasn't I?' said the soldier. + +'I?' asked Yakob. + +The other three soldiers approached inquisitively to where Yakob was +crouching. + +'A nice mess you've made,' one of them said, pointing to the wounded +who were arriving across the fields. 'Do you understand?' + +Yakob fixed his eyes on the soldiers' boots, and would not look in +that, direction. But he could not understand what it all meant...all +this noise, and the firing that ran from hill to hill. + +'Nice mess this you've made, old man.' + +'Yes.' + +'You!' + +Yakob looked up at them, and had the sensation of being deep down at +the bottom of a well instead of crouching at their feet. + +'That is a lie, a lie, a lie!' he cried, beating his chest; his hair +stood on end. The soldiers sat down in a row on the stones. They were +young, cold, tired. + +'But now they'll play the deuce with you.' + +'Why?' said Yakob softly, glancing sideways at them. + +'You're an old ass,' remarked one of them. + +'But,' he began again, 'I was sitting, looking at the snow....' + +He had a great longing to talk to them, they looked as if they would +understand, although they were so young. + +'I was sitting...give me some fire...do you come from these parts +yourselves?' They did not answer. + +He thought of his cottage, the bread and sausage, the black horse at +the cross-roads. + +'They beat me,' he sobbed, covering his face with his rags. + +The soldiers shrugged their shoulders: 'Why did you let them?' + +'O...O...O!' cried the old man. But tears would no longer wash away a +conviction which was taking possession of him, searing his soul as the +flames seared the pines. 'Why did you let them? Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?' + +No, he was not ashamed of himself for that. But that he had shown them +the way...the way they had come by...what did it all mean? All his +tears would not wash away this conviction: that he had shown them the +way...the way they had come by. + +Guns were thundering from the hills, the village was burning, the mill +was burning...a black mass of people was surrounding him. More and more +wounded came in from the fields, covered with grey mud. The flying +sparks from the mill fell at his feet. + +A detachment of soldiers was returning. + +'Get up, old man,' cried his guard; 'we're off!' Yakób jumped to his +feet, hitched up his trousers, and went off perplexed, under cover of +four bayonets that seemed to carry a piece of sky between them like a +starred canopy. + +His fear grew as he approached the village. He did not see the familiar +cottages and hedges; he felt as though he were moving onwards without a +goal. Moving onwards and yet not getting any farther. Moving onwards +and yet hoping not to get to the end of the journey. + +He sucked his pipe and paid no attention to anything; but the village +was on his conscience. + +The fear which filled his heart was nob like that which he had felt +when the Cossacks arrived, but a senseless fear, depriving him of sight +and hearing...as though there were no place for him in the world. + +'Are we going too fast?' asked the guard hearing Yakób's heavy +breathing. + +'All right, all right,' he answered cheerfully. The friendly words had +taken his fear away. + +'Take it easy,' said the soldier. 'We will go more slowly. Here's a dry +cigarette, smoke.' + +Without turning round, he offered Yakob a cigarette, which he put +behind his ear. + +They entered the village. It smelt of burning, like a gipsy camp. The +road seemed to waver in the flickering of the flames, the wind howled +in the timber. + +Yakob looked at the sky. Darkness and stars melted into one. + +He would not look at the village. He knew there were only women and +children in the cottages, the men had all gone. This thought was a +relief to him, he hardly knew why. + +Meanwhile the detachment of soldiers, instead of going to the +manor-house, had turned down a narrow road which led to the mill. They +stopped and formed fours. Every stone here was familiar to Yakob, and +yet, standing in the snow up to his knees, he was puzzled as to where +he was. If he could only sleep off this nightmare...he did not +recognize the road...the night was far advanced, and the village not +asleep as usual...if they would only let him go home! + +He would return to-morrow. + +The mill was burning out. Cinders were flying across from the +granaries; the smoke bit into the eyes of the people who were standing +about looking upwards, with their arms crossed. + +Everything showed up brilliantly in the glare; the water was dripping +from rung to rung of the silent wheel, and mixed its sound with that of +the fire. + +The adjoining buildings were fenced round with a small running fire; +smoke whirled round the tumbling roof like a shock of hair shot through +with flames. The faces of the bystanders assumed a metallic glow. + +The wails of the miller and his family could be heard through the noise +of battle, of water, and of fire. + +It was as if the crumbling walls, the melting joints, the smoke, the +cries were dripping down the wheel, transformed into blood, and were +carried down by the black waves and swallowed up in the infinite abyss +of the night. + +'They beat me....' Yakob justified himself to himself, when the tears +rose to his eyes again. No tears could wash away the conviction that it +was he who had shown them the way by which they had come. + +The first detachment was waiting for the arrival of the second. It +arrived, bringing in prisoners, Cossacks. A large number of them were +being marched along; they did not walk in order but irregularly, like +tired peasants. They were laughing, smoking cigarettes, and pushing +against each other. Among them were those who had come to his cottage; +he recognized the captain and others. + +When they saw Yakob they waved their hands cordially and called out to +him, 'Old man, old man!' + +Yakob did not reply; he shrunk into himself. Shame filled his soul. He +looked at them vacantly. His forehead was wrinkled as with a great +effort to remember something, but he could think of nothing but a huge +millwheel turning under red, smooth waves. Suddenly he remembered: it +was the young Cossack who had given him his brother's clothes. + +'The other one,' he shouted, pointing to his muffler, 'where did you +leave him?' + +Soldiers came between them and pushed the crowd away. + +There was a terrific crash in the mill; a thick red cloud rushed +upwards, dotted with sparks. Under this cloud an ever-increasing mass +of people was flocking towards the spot where Yakob was; they were +murmuring, pulling the soldiers by their cloaks. Women, children, and +old men pressed in a circle round him, gesticulating, shouting: 'It was +he...he...he!' + +Words were lost in the chaos of sounds, faces became merely a dense +mass, above which fists were flung upwards like stones. + +Yakob tripped about among the soldiers like a fawn in a cage, raised +and lowered his head, and clutched his rags; he could not shut his +quivering mouth, and from his breast came a cry like the sob of a +child. + +The crowd turned upon him with fists and nails; he hid his face in his +rags, stopped his ears with his fingers, and shook his head. + +The prisoners had been dispatched, and it was Yakob's turn to be taken +before the officer in command of the battalion. + +'Say that I...that I...' Yakob entreated his guard. + +'What are you in such a hurry for?' + +'Say that I...' + +The soldiers were sitting round a camp-fire, piling up the faggots. +Soup was boiling in a cauldron. + +'Say that I...' he begged again, standing in the thick smoke. + +At last he was taken into the school-house. + +The officer in command stood in the middle of the room with a cigarette +between his fingers. + +'I...I...' groaned Yakob, already in the door. His dishevelled hair +made him look like a sea-urchin; his face was quite disfigured with +black marks of violence; behind his bleeding left ear still stuck the +cigarette. His swollen upper lip was drawn sideways and gave him the +expression of a ghastly smile. His eyes looked out helpless, +dispirited, from his swollen lids. + +'What do you want to say?' asked the officer, without looking at him. +Something suddenly came over him. + +'It was I,' he said hoarsely. + +The soldier made his report. + +'They gave me food,' Yakob said, 'and this muffler and breeches, and +they beat me.' + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +'It was.' + +'You did show them the way?' + +He nodded. + +'Did they beat you in the cottage?' + +Yakob hesitated. 'In the cottage we were having supper.' + +'They beat you afterwards, on the way?' + +He again hesitated, and looked into the officer's eyes. They were +clear, calm eyes. The guard came a step nearer. + +The officer looked down, turned towards the window and asked more +gently: 'You had supper together in the cottage. Then you went out with +them. Did they beat you on the way?' + +He turned suddenly and looked at Yakob. The peasant stood, looked at +the grey snowflakes outside the window, and his face, partly black, +partly pallid, was wrinkled in deep folds. + +'Well, what have you got to say?' + +'It was I...' This interrogation made him alternately hot and cold. + +'You who beat them, and not they who beat you?' laughed the officer. + +'The meat is still there in the cottage, and here is what they gave +me,' he said, holding up the muffler and tobacco. + +The officer threw his cigarette away and turned on his heel. Yakob's +eyes became dull, his arm with the muffler dropped. + +The officer wrote an order. 'Take him away.' They passed the +schoolmaster and some women and soldiers in the passage. + +'Well...well...' they whispered, leaning against the wall. + +The guard made a sign with his hand. Yakob, behind him, looked dully +into the startled faces of the bystanders. + +'How frightened he looks...how they have beaten him...how frightened he +looks!' they murmured. + +He put the muffler round his neck again, for he felt cold. + +'That's him, that's him,' growled the crowd outside. + +The manor-house was reached. The light from the numerous windows fell +upon horses and gun-carriages drawn up in the yard. + +'What do you want?' cried the sentry to the crowd, pushing them back. + +He nodded towards Yakob. 'Where is he to go?' + +'That sort...' murmured the crowd. Yakob's guard delivered his order. +They stopped in the porch. The pillars threw long shadows which lost +themselves towards the fence and across the waves of the stream beyond, +in the darkness of the night. + +The heat in the waiting-room was overpowering. This was the room where +the bailiff had so often given him his pay. The office no longer +existed. Soldiers were lying asleep everywhere. + +They passed on into a brilliantly lighted room. The staff was quartered +there. The general took a few steps across the room, murmured something +and stood still in front of Yakob. + +'Ah, that is the man?' he turned and looked at Yakob with his blue eyes +that shot glances quick as lightning from under bushy grey eyebrows. + +'It was I,' ejaculated Yakob hoarsely. + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +Yakob became calmer. He felt he would be able to make himself more +quickly understood here. 'It was.' + +'You brought them here?' + +'Yes.' + +He passed his hand over his hair and shrank into himself again. He +looked at the brilliant lights. + +'Do you know what is the punishment for that?' + +The general came a step nearer; Yakob felt overawed by the feeling of +strength and power that emanated from him. He was choking. Yes, he +understood and yet did not understand.' + +'What have you got to say for yourself!' + +'We had supper together...' he began, but stopped, for the general +frowned and eyed him coldly. Yakob looked towards the window and +listened to hear the sound of wind and waves. The general was still +looking at him, and so they stood for a moment which seemed an eternity +to Yakob, the man in the field-grey uniform who looked as if he had +been sculptured in stone, and the quailing, shrunken, shivering form, +covered with dirt and rags. Yakob felt as though a heavy weight were +resting on him. Then both silently looked down. + +'Take him back to the battalion.' + +The steely sound of the command moved something in the souls of the +soldiers, and took the enjoyment of their sleep from them. + +They returned to the school-house. The crowd, as though following a +thief caught in the act, ran by their side again. + +They found room for the old man in a shed, some one threw him a +blanket. Soldiers were sleeping in serried ranks. Their heavy breathing +mixed with the sound of wind and waves, and the cold blue light of the +moon embraced everything. + +Yakob buried himself in the straw, looked out through a hole in the +boarding and wept bitterly. + +'What are you crying for?' asked the sentry outside, and tapped his +shoulder with his gun. + +Yakob did not answer. + +'Thinking of your wife?' the soldier gossiped, walking up and down +outside the shed. 'You're old, what good is your wife to you?' The +soldier stopped and stretched his arms till the joints cracked. + +'Or your children? Never mind, they'll get on in the world without a +helpless old man like you.' + +Yakob was silent, and the soldier crouched down near him. + +'Old man, you ought...' + +'No...' tremblingly came from the inside. + +'You see,' the soldier paced up and down again, 'you are thinking of +your cottage. I can understand that. But do you think the cottage will +be any the worse off for your death?' + +The soldier's simple and dour words outside in the blue night, his talk +of Yakob's death, of his own death which might come at any moment, +slowly brought sleep to Yakob. + +In the morning he awoke with a start. The sun was shining on the snow, +the mountains glittered like glass. The trees on the slopes were +covered with millions of shining crystals; freshness floated between +heaven and earth. Yakob stepped out of the shed, greeted the sentry and +sat down on the boards, blinking his eyes. + +The air was fresh and cold, tiny atoms of hoarfrost were flying about. +Yakob felt the sun's warmth thawing his limbs, caressing him. He let +himself be absorbed into the pure, rosy morning. + +Doors creaked, and voices rang out clear and fresh. Opposite to him a +squadron of Uhlans were waiting at the farrier's, who came out, black +as a charcoal-burner, and chatted with them. They were laughing, their +eyes shone. From inside the forge the hammer rang out like a bell. +Yakob held his head in his hand and listened. At each stroke he shut +his eyes. The soldiers brought him a cup of hot coffee; he drank it and +lighted his pipe. + +The murmuring of the brook, punctuated by the hammer-strokes, +stimulated his thoughts till they became clearer, limpid as the stream. + +'It was I...it was I...' he silently confided to all the fresh voices +of the morning. + +The guard again took him away with fixed bayonets. He knew where he was +going. They would go through the village and stop at the wall of the +cemetery. + +The sky was becoming overcast, the beauty of the morning was waning. +They called at the school-house for orders. Yakob remained outside the +open window. + +'I won't...' he heard a voice. + +'Nor I...' another. + +Yakob leant against the fence, supported his temples on his fists and +watched the snow-clouds and mists. + +A feeling of immense, heavy weariness came over him, and made him limp. +He could see the ruins of the mill, the tumbled-down granaries, the +broken doors. The water trickled down the wheel; smoke and soot were +floating on the water, yet the water flowed on. + +Guilty...not guilty.... What did it all matter? + +'Do you hear?' he asked of the water. 'Do you hear?' he asked of his +wife and children and his little property. + +They took him here and they took him there. They made him wait outside +houses, and he sat down on the steps as if he had never been used to +anything else. He picked up a dry branch and gently tapped the snow +with it and waited. He waited as in a dream, going round and round the +wish that it might all be over soon. + +While he was waiting, the crowd amused themselves with shaking their +fists at him; he was thankful that his wife seemed to have gone away to +the town and did not see him. + +At last his guard went off in a bad temper. A soldier on horseback +remained with him. + +'Come on, old man,' he said, 'no one will have anything to do with it.' + +Yakob glanced at him; the soldier and his horse seemed to be towering +above the cottages, above the trees of the park with their flocks of +circling crows. He looked into the far distance. + +'It was I.' + +'You're going begging, old man.' + +Again they began their round, and behind them followed the miller's +wife and other women. His legs were giving way, as though they were +rushes. He took off his cap and gave a tired look in the direction of +his cottage. + +At last they joined a detachment which was starting off on the old +road. They went as far as Gregor's cottage, then to the cross-roads, +and in single file down the path. From time to time isolated gunshots +rang out. + +They sat down by the side of a ditch. + +'We've got to finish this business,' said the sergeant, and scratched +his head. 'No one would come forward voluntarily... I have been +ordered....' + +The soldiers looked embarrassed and drew away, looking at Yakob. + +He hid his head between his knees, and his thoughts dwelt on +everything, sky, water, mountains, fire. + +His heart was breaking; a terrible sweat stood on his brows. + +Shots rang out. + +A deep groan escaped from Yakob's breast, a groan like a winter-wind. +He sprang up, stood on the edge of the ditch, sighed with all the +strength of his old breast and fell like a branch. + +Puffs of smoke rose from the ditch and from the forests. + + + + + + + +'P.P.C.' + +(A LADY'S NARRATIVE) + + +[An incident during the early part of the World War, when the Russians, +retreating before the victorious Austro-German armies, destroyed +everything.] + +BY + +MME RYGIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +I + + +At the time when the bridges over the Vistula still existed, connecting +by stone and iron the banks of the town now split in two, I drove to +the opposite side of the river into the country to my abandoned home, +for I thought I might still succeed in transporting to the town the +rest of the articles I had left behind, and so preserve them from a +doubtful fate. + +I was specially anxious to bring back the cases full of books that had +been early packed and duly placed in a garret. They included one part +of the library that had long ago been removed, but owing to their +considerable weight they had been passed over in the hurry of the first +removal. + +The house had been locked up and entrusted to the sure care of Martin, +an old fellow bent half to the ground, who with his wife also kept an +eye on the rest of the buildings, the garden, and the forest. + +When I arrived I found the whole of my wild, forgotten forest-world +absolutely changed and transformed into one great camp. But the empty +wood was moving like a living thing, like the menacing 'Birnam wood' +before the eyes of Macbeth. It was full of an army, with each of their +handsome big horses tied to a pine in the forest. Farther off across +the roots could be seen small grey tents stretched on logs. Most of the +exhausted blackened men were lying all over the ground and sleeping +among the quiet beasts. Along the peaceful, silky forest paths, in a +continuous line, like automobiles in the Monte Pincio park, stood small +field kitchens on wheels, gunpowder boxes, and carts. + +At the foot of the forest, on the flowery meadow, unmown this year, +were feeding pretty Ukraine cattle driven from some distant place. +Quiet little sheep, not brought up in our country, were eating grass on +a neighbouring hillock. + +Martin's bent figure was hastily coming along the road from the house, +making unintelligible signs. When he was quite close he explained in a +low discontented voice, and as if washing his hands of all +responsibility, that I had been robbed. 'I was going round,' he said, +'this very morning, as it was my duty to do. There was no one to be +seen. Now the whole forest is full of soldiers. They came, opened the +house, and stole absolutely everything. My wife came upon them as they +were going out!' + +'What? Stole everything?' I asked. + +Martin was silent a moment; at last he said: 'Well, for instance, the +samovar; absolutely everything!' + +I found the front door, in fact, wide open, and in it Martin's wife, +with gloom depicted on her face. The floors were covered with articles +dragged out of the drawers in the rooms on the upper floor. In the +garrets scores of books in the most appalling disorder were scattered +from out of parcels and boxes. Unbound volumes had been shaken, so that +single sheets and maps were found in various places or not found at +all. + +I went into the veranda. In the green of the astonished garden, now +paling in the dusk, men were sleeping here and there. There was a +specially large swarm in the part of the garden where ripe raspberries +were growing. Nearer the house, under a shady d'Amarlis pear tree, four +soldiers were lying and playing at cards. They all had attached to +their caps masks to protect them from poison-gas with two thick glasses +for the eyes, and with this second great pair of eyes on them their +heads looked like those of certain worms. In the packs of cards I +recognized without trouble some that used to lie by our fire-place. I +went up to the soldiers and pointed out that they had plundered my +house, and that I missed several things, and was anxious to find them, +especially women's dresses not of use to any one there, and that I +wanted to be assured that no one would come into the house in +future--at least till I had packed afresh the damaged books and +collected what remained. + +I could speak freely, for none of them so much as thought of +interrupting me. Then I was silent, whereupon the soldier lying nearest +raised his head--the movement put me in mind of a hydrostatic +balance--gave me a long look and said: 'What have we to do with your +books? We don't even understand your language!' Then, looking at me +amiably with his double pair of eyes, he took a bite of a half-ripe +pear as green as a cucumber. + +'Nothing to be got here: you must go to an officer,' Martin advised, as +he stood a little to the side of me. + +The officers had their quarters about a quarter of a mile away, in a +small house near the forest path. The mist passed off, and in the +darkness in the middle of the wood a number of fires shone. One could +hear a confused noise, unknown soldiers' songs, and mournful music. We +soon reached our destination. We were asked to go into the nearly empty +room, where there was a murmur of voices of soldiers; they were all +standing. At a long table, by the light of a small candle without a +candlestick, two men were writing something, and one was dipping in a +plate proofs of photographs. Some one asked if I felt any fear, and +when I hastened to reassure him entirely, he gave me a chair. Martin +stood, doubled up, at the door. + +A moment later a young officer, informed by a soldier of my arrival, +came down from above, clapped his spurs together in a salute and +inquired what I wanted. When he heard my business his brow darkened and +he became severe. 'Till now we have had no instance of such an +occurrence,' he informed me with much dignity, and his voice sounded +sincere. 'Where is the place?' he asked. 'At the end of the wood?' + +'Quite right,' I answered. + +'Ah, then, it is not our soldiers,' he said with relief; 'there is a +detachment of machine gunners there, and they have no officers at all.' + +He expressed a wish, in spite of the lateness of the hour, to examine +the damage personally with two other officers. They assured me that the +things were bound to be found, and punishment would fall on the guilty +under the severe military law. + +We all walked back through the camp by a forest track which I had known +from childhood as well as the paths of my own garden. The mist had +thickened, the fires seemed veiled as with cobwebs. Everywhere around +horses were eating hay and scraping up the ground solid with pine-tree +roots. Songs ended in silence and began again farther off. + +On the way I explained directly to the officers that my special object +was not to get back the things or to punish the thieves, and certainly +not according to 'the severe military law'. How was I to trace the +thieves? My watchman would certainly not recognize them, because he was +not familiar with shoulder straps, and would say that in that respect +all soldiers were alike. I was only afraid of further damage in the +house, its locks being rotten, and what I desired was that in case the +army stayed there, a guard should be appointed. + +So we reached the house. Martin conducted the gentlemen through the +rooms, and by the light of a candle showed them the condition of +things. The officers, with obvious annoyance, discovered a 'veritable +pogrom'. They could not be expected to understand what the loss +incurred by the scattering of so many books meant to me; one of them +smelt of English 'Sweet Pea' perfume, like a bouquet of flowers. Yet +they clinked their spurs together, and as they went out they again +apologized for the injury done and appointed a sentry, who went on +guard at midnight. + + + + + +II + + +Day came fall of clouds that hung right over the tops of the trees, +full of wind and cold, but dry--quite a genuine summer day. + +Round the house from early morning soldiers were moving about, +mitigating the weariness of the man on guard. Now one, now another +wanted to see how the pillaged house looked. Quite simply they walked +through the open door into the interior, finishing what remained of the +unripe apples they had picked in the garden. One stood still on the +threshold, put his hand to his cap, bowed, and duly asked, 'if the lady +would allow?' + +Then he entered, stooped, and picked up two books from the ground. 'May +I be permitted to take the liberty of asking to whom these books +belong? What is the reason for their exceedingly great number? Do they +serve a special department of study?' He made his inquiries in such a +stilted way that I was forced laboriously to keep my answers on the +same level. He owned he would be happy if I would agree that he should +help in the work, for he had not had a book in his hand for a year. He +therefore stayed in the garret and with the anxiety of a genuine +bibliomaniac collected volumes of similar size and shape, put together +scattered maps and tied up bundles. Martin looked distrustfully at this +assistant, and annoyance was depicted on the face of Martin's wife. In +front of the house one of the soldiers had brought cigarettes to the +man on guard. Another turned to him ironically: 'Well, under the +circumstances I suppose you are going to light one?' + +'You are not allowed to light a cigarette on guard?' + +'It wouldn't be allowed; but perhaps, as there is no officer to see +me....' + +The speaker was a young, fair-haired, amiable boy, assistant to an +engine driver in some small town in Siberia. He was quite ready to +relate his history. He could not wonder sufficiently how it came to +pass that he was still alive. He had run away from the trenches at S., +certain that he would die if he were not taken prisoner. The fire of +the enemy was concentrated on their entrenchment, so as to cut off all +chance of escape. Every one round him fell, and he was constantly +feeling himself to ascertain that he was not wounded. 'You see, lady, +when they turn their whole fire on one spot, you must get away; it +rains so thick that no one can stand it.' + +'Well, and didn't you fire just as thick?' + +He looked with amiable wonder. 'When we had nothing to fire?' he said +good-humouredly. + +Well, somehow it all ended happily. But, then, the others, his +companions...ah, how dashing they had been, what fellows! An admirable, +glorious army, the S. Regiment! Almost everyone was killed; it was sad +to see them. Now they had to fill up the gaps with raw recruits; but it +was no longer the old army; there will never be such fighting again.... +It will be hard to discipline them. They had fought continuously for a +year. A whole year in the war! They had been close to Drialdow, in +Lwow, even close to Cracow itself. 'Do you know Cracow, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'Well, then, just there, just five miles from Cracow. The bitter cold +of a windy day penetrated to our bones. To think that the town was only +five miles off!' + +I went away to return to the packing of my books. At the door I noticed +a woman standing, a neighbour; she was frightened and timid. + +'I suppose they have robbed you, lady?' + +'They have.' + +'And now they are at it in my place,' she said softly. 'Their cattle +have eaten up my whole meadow, and they are tearing up everything in my +kitchen-garden. I was looking this morning; not a cucumber left. +To-morrow they will begin mowing the oats; the officer gave me an +advance in money, and the rest he paid with note of hand. Is it true +that they are going to burn everything?' + +'I don't know.' + +The new watchman came up, young, black-eyed, a gloomy Siberian +villager. When he laughed, his teeth shone like claws. + +'We have stolen nothing, but we are ordered to do penance,' he said +defiantly to Martin. 'Very well, we'll do it. It was worse in the +trenches--a great deal worse! Often we were so close to the enemy that +we could see them perfectly. We used to take off our caps, raise them +in the air; they fired. If they hit, then we waved a white +handkerchief: that meant they had made a hit. Later on they would show +their caps and we fired.' + +'Are you from a distance?' Martin asked. + +'From Siberia,' he answered, and turned his head. 'We were four +brothers all serving in the army; two still write to me, the fourth is +gone. Our father is an old man, and neither ploughs nor sows. He sold a +beautiful colt for 150 roubles, for what is the use of a horse when +there is no more farming? God! what a country this is,' he continued +with pity. 'With us in Siberia a farmer with no more than ten cows is +called poor. We are rich! We have land where wheat grows like anything. +Manure we cart away and burn; we've no use for it. Ah! Siberia!' + +The woman, my neighbour, sat in silence. It was strange to her to hear +of this country as the Promised Land. When she had to go she said, +thoughtfully and nervously: 'Of course if I hadn't sold him the oats +they would have taken them. Even those two roubles on account were +better than that.' + +I went upstairs again, and by evening the work of packing the books and +things was completed. + +The soldier who loved books made elaborate remarks on them also to his +simple comrades. He spoke about the psychical aspect of fighting, the +physiology of heroic deeds, the resignation of those destined for +death, &c. He was a thoughtful man and unquestionably sensitive; but +all that he said had the stamp of oriental thought, systematically +arranged in advance and quite perfectly expressed at the moment, free +from the immediate naivete of elementary knowledge. + +'Do you belong,' I said, 'to this detachment of machine gunners?' + +'Unquestionably; I am, as you see, lady, a simple soldier.' + +'I should like to see a machine gun at close quarters. Can I?' + +I immediately perceived that I had asked something out of order. He was +confused and turned pale. + +'I have never seen a machine gun,' I continued, 'up to now; but, of +course, if there are any difficulties...' + +'It is not that,' he answered, with hesitation. 'I must tell you +honestly, lady, we haven't a single cartridge left.' + +He checked himself and was silent; at that moment he did not show the +repose of a psychologist. + +'Do you understand, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'And also we have absolutely no officers. There is nothing but what you +see there in the forest; the rest are pitiful remnants--some 200 +soldiers left out of two regiments.' + +Early next day Martin joyously informed me that in the night the +soldiers had gone away. They had burnt nothing, but it was likely that +another detachment would come in by the evening. + +'And the soldier who helped you to pack was here very early. I told him +the lady was asleep, so he only left this card.' + +_It was a visiting card with a bent edge; at the bottom was written, +in pencil and in Roman characters,_ + +'p.p.c.' + +'Yes, my friend,' I thought to myself, 'that is just the souvenir I +should have expected you to leave me after plundering me right and +left... a "P.P.C." card! And my deliverance from you means destruction +to somebody else's woods, house, and garden.' + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Polish Tales, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 8378-8.txt or 8378-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/3/7/8378/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Selected Polish Tales + +Author: Various + +Posting Date: January 8, 2013 [EBook #8378] +Release Date: June, 2005 +First Posted: July 4, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + +SELECTED + +POLISH TALES + +TRANSLATED BY + +ELSE C. M. BENECKE + +AND + +MARIE BUSCH + + + +_This selection of Tales by Polish authors was first published in +'The World's Classics' in 1921 and reprinted in 1928, 1942, and +1944._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +PREFACE + + +THE OUTPOST. By BOLESLAW PRUS + +A PINCH of SALT. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +FOREBODINGS. By STEFAN ZERKOMSKI + +A POLISH SCENE. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +DEATH. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +THE SENTENCE. By J. KADEN-BANDROWSKI + +'P.P.C.' By MME KYCIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +PREFACE + + +My friend the late Miss Else C. M. Benecke left a number of Polish +stories in rough translation, and I am carrying out her wishes in +editing them and handing them over to English readers. In spite of +failing health during the last years of her life, she worked hard at +translations from this beautiful but difficult language, and the two +volumes, _Tales by Polish Authors_ and _More Tales by Polish +Authors_, published by Mr. Basil Blackwell at Oxford, were among the +first attempts to make modern Polish fiction known in this country. In +both these volumes I collaborated with her. + +England is fortunate in counting Joseph Conrad among her own novelists; +although a Pole by birth he is one of the greatest masters of English +style. The Polish authors who have written in their own language have +perhaps been most successful in the short story. Often it is so slight +that it can hardly be called a story, but each of these sketches +conveys a distinct atmosphere of the country and the people, and shows +the individuality of each writer. The unhappy state of Poland for more +than 150 years has placed political and social problems in the +foreground of Polish literature. Writers are therefore judged and +appraised by their fellow-countrymen as much by their patriotism as by +their literary and artistic merits. + +Of the authors whose work is presented in this volume _Prus_ +(Aleksander Glowacki), the veteran of modern Polish novelists, is the +one most loved by his own countrymen. His books are written partly with +a moral object, as each deals with a social evil. But while he exposes +the evil, his warm heart and strong sense of justice--combined with a +sense of humour--make him fair and even generous to all. + +The poignant appeal of _Szymanski's_ stories lies in the fact that +they are based on personal experiences. He was banished to Yakutsk in +Siberia for six years when he was quite a young man and had barely +finished his studies at the University of Warsaw, at a time when every +profession of radicalism, however moderate, was punished severely by +the Russian authorities. He died, a middle-aged man, during the War, +after many years of literary and journalistic activity in the interest +of his country. Neither he nor Prus lived to see Poland free and +republican, an ideal for which they had striven. + +_Zeromski_ is a writer of intense feeling. If Prus's kindly and +simple tales are the most beloved, Zeromski's more subtle psychological +treatment of his subjects is the most admired, and he is said to mark +an epoch in Polish fiction. In the two short sketches contained in this +volume, as well as in most of his short stories and longer novels, the +dominant note is human suffering. + +_Reymont_, who is a more impersonal writer and more detached from +his subject, is perhaps the most artistic among the authors of short +stories. His volume entitled _Peasants_, from which the two +sketches in this collection are taken, gives very powerful and +realistic pictures of life in the villages. + +_Kaden-Bandrowski_ is a very favourite author in his own country, +as many of his short stories deal with Polish life during the Great +War. In the early part of the War he joined the Polish Legions which +formed the nucleus of Pilsudski's army, and shared their varying +fortunes. During the greater part of this time he edited a radical +newspaper for his soldiers, in whom he took a great interest. The +story, _The Sentence_, was translated by me from a French +translation kindly made by the author. + +Mme _Rygier-Nalkowska_, who, with Kaden-Bandrowski, belongs to the +youngest group of Polish writers, is a strong feminist of courageous +views, and a keen satirist of certain national and social conventions. +The present volume only contains a short sketch--a personal experience +of hers during the early part of the War. It would be considered a very +daring thing for a Polish lady to venture voluntarily into the zone of +the Russian army, but her little sketch shows the individual Russian to +be as human as any other soldier. This sketch and the first of +Reymont's have been translated by Mr. Joseph Solomon, whose knowledge +of Slavonic languages makes him a most valuable co-operator. + +My share in the work has been to put Miss Benecke's literal translation +into a form suitable for publication, and to get into touch with the +authors or their representatives, to whom I would now tender my +grateful thanks for their courteous permission to issue this volume, +viz. to Mme Glowacka, widow of 'Prus', to the sons of the late Mr. +Szymanski, to MM. Zeromski, Reymont, Kaden-Bandrowski, and to Mme +Rygier-Nalkowska, all of Warsaw. + +MARIE BUSCH. + + + + + + +THE OUTPOST + +BY + +BOLESLAW PRUS + +(ALEKSANDER GLOWACKI) + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The river Bialka springs from under a hill no bigger than a cottage; +the water murmurs in its little hollow like a swarm of bees getting +ready for their flight. + +For the distance of fifteen miles the Bialka flows on level ground. +Woods, villages, trees in the fields, crucifixes by the roadside show +up clearly and become smaller and smaller as they recede into the +distance. It is a bit of country like a round table on which human +beings live like a butterfly covered by a blue flower. What man finds +and what another leaves him he may eat, but he must not go too far or +fly too high. + +Fifteen to twenty miles farther to the south the country begins to +change. The shallow banks of the Bialka rise and retreat from each +other, the flat fields become undulating, the path leads ever more +frequently and steeply up and down hill. + +The plain has disappeared and given place to a ravine; you are +surrounded by hills of the height of a many-storied house; all are +covered with bushes; sometimes the ascent is steep, sometimes gradual. +The first ravine leads into a second, wilder and narrower, thence into +a succession of nine or ten. Cold and dampness cling to you when you +walk through them; you climb one of the hills and find yourself +surrounded by a network of forking and winding ravines. + +A short distance from the river-banks the landscape is again quite +different. The hills grow smaller and stand separate like great +ant-hills. You have emerged from the country of ravines into the broad +valley of the Bialka, and the bright sun shines full into your eyes. + +If the earth is a table on which Providence has spread a banquet for +creation, then the valley of the Bialka is a gigantic, long-shaped dish +with upturned rim. In the winter this dish is white, but at other +seasons it is like majolica, with forms severe and irregular, but +beautiful. The Divine Potter has placed a field at the bottom of the +dish and cut it through from north to south with the ribbon of the +Bialka sparkling with waves of sapphire blue in the morning, crimson in +the evening, golden at midday, and silver in moonlit nights. + +When He had formed the bottom, the Great Potter shaped the rim, taking +care that each side should possess an individual physiognomy. + +The west bank is wild; the field touches the steep gravel hills, where +a few scattered hawthorn bushes and dwarf birches grow. Patches of +earth show here and there, as though the turf had been peeled. Even the +hardiest plants eschew these patches, where instead of vegetation the +surface presents clay and strata of sand, or else rock showing its +teeth to the green field. + +The east bank has a totally different character; it forms an +amphitheatre with three tiers. The first tier above the field is of +mould and contains a row of cottages surrounded by trees: this is the +village. On the second tier, where the ground is clay, stands the +manor-house, almost on top of the village, with which an avenue of old +lime-trees connects it. To the right and left extend the manor-fields, +large and rectangular, sown with wheat, rye, and peas, or else lying +fallow. The sandy soil of the third tier is sown with rye or oats and +fringed by the pine-forest, its contours showing black against the sky. + +The northern ridge contains little hills standing singly. One of them +is the highest in the neighbourhood and is crowned by a solitary pine. +This hill, together with two others, is the property of the +gospodarz[1] The gospodarstwo is like a hermitage; it is a long way +from the village and still farther from the manor-house. + +[Footnote 1: _Gospodarz_: the owner of a small holding, as +distinct from the villager, who owns no land and is simply an +agricultural labourer. The word, which means host, master of the house, +will be used throughout the book. _Gospodyni_: hostess, mistress +of the holding. _Gospodarstwo_: the property.] + + +Josef Slimak. + + +Slimak's cottage is by the roadside, the front door opening on to the +road, the back door into the yard; the cowhouse and pigsty are under +one roof, the barn, stable, and cart-shed forming the other three sides +of the square courtyard. + +The peasants chaff Slimak for living in exile like a Sibiriak.[1] It is +true, they say, that he lives nearer to the church, but on the other +hand he has no one to open his mouth to. + +[Footnote 1: Sibiriak: a person of European birth or extraction living +in Siberia.] + +However, his solitude is not complete. On a warm autumn day, when the +white-coated gospodarz is ploughing on the hill with a pair of horses, +you can see his wife and a girl, both in red petticoats, digging up +potatoes. + +Between the hills the thirteen-year-old Jendrek[1] minds the cows and +performs strange antics meanwhile to amuse himself. If you look more +closely you will also find the eight-year-old Stasiek[2] with hair as +white as flax, who roams through the ravines or sits under the lonely +pine on the hill and looks thoughtfully into the valley. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling, _Jedrek_ (pronounced as given, +Jendrek, with the French sound of _en_): Andrew.] + +[Footnote 2: _Stasiek_: diminutive of Stanislas.] + +That gospodarstwo--a drop in the sea of human interest--was a small +world in itself which had gone through various phases and had a history +of its own. + +For instance, there was the time when Josef Slimak had scarcely seven +acres of land and only his wife in the cottage. Then there came two +surprises, his wife bore him a son--Jendrek,--and as the result of the +servituty[1] his holding was increased by three acres. + +[Footnote 1: _Servituty_ are pieces of land which, on the +abolition of serfdom, the landowners had to cede to the peasants +formerly their serfs. The settlement was left to the discretion of the +owners, and much bargaining and discontent on both sides resulted +therefrom; the peasants had to pay percentage either in labour or in +produce to the landowner.] + +Both these circumstances created a great change in the gospodarz's +life; he bought another cow and pig and occasionally hired a labourer. + +Some years later his second son, Stasiek, was born. Then Slimakowa[1] +hired a woman by way of an experiment for half a year to help her with +the work. + +[Footnote 1: Slimakowa: Polish form for Mrs. Slimak.] + +Sobieska stayed for nine months, then one night she escaped to the +village, her longing for the public-house having become too strong. Her +place was taken by 'Silly Zoska'[1] for another six months. Slimakowa +was always hoping that the work would grow less, and she would be able +to dispense with a servant. However, 'Silly Zoska' stayed for six +years, and when she went into service at the manor the work at the +cottage had not grown less. So the gospodyni engaged a fifteen-year-old +orphan, Magda, who preferred to go into service, although she had a +cow, a bit of land, and half a cottage of her own. She said that her +uncle beat her too much, and that her other relations only offered her +the cold comfort that the more he applied the stick the better it would +be for her. + +[Footnote: Zoska: diminutive of Sophia.] + +Up till then Slimak had chiefly done his own farm work and rarely hired +a labourer. This still left him time to go to work at the manor with +his horses, or to carry goods from the town for the Jews. + +When, however, he was summoned more and more often to the manor, he +found that the day-labourer was not sufficient, and began to look out +for a permanent farm-hand. + +One autumn day, after his wife had been rating him severely for not yet +having found a farmhand, it chanced that Maciek Owczarz,[1] whose foot +had been crushed under a cart, came out of the hospital. The lame man's +road led him past Slimak's cottage; tired and miserable he sat down on +a stone by the gate and looked longingly into the entrance. The +gospodyni was boiling potatoes for the pigs, and the smell was so good, +as the little puffs of steam spread along the highroad, that it went +into the very pit of Maciek's stomach. He sat there in fascination, +unable to move. + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: Ovcharge. _Maciek_ +(pron. Machik): Matthew.] + +'Is that you, Owczarz?' Slimakowa asked, hardly recognizing the poor +wretch in his rags. + +'Indeed, it is I,' the man answered miserably. + +'They said in the village that you had been killed.' + +'I have been worse off than that; I have been in the hospital. I wish I +had been left under the cart, I shouldn't be so hungry now.' + +The gospodyni became thoughtful. + +'If only one could be sure that you wouldn't die, you could stay here +as our farm-hand.' + +The poor fellow jumped up from his seat and walked to the door, +dragging his foot. + +'Why should I die?' he cried, 'I am quite well, and when I have a bit +to eat I can do the work of two. Give me barszcz[1] and I will chop up +a cartload of wood for you. Try me for a week, and I will plough all +those fields. I will serve you for old clothes and patched boots, so +long as I have a shelter for the winter.' + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: barsht. The national dish of +the peasants; it is made with beetroot and bread, tastes slightly sour, +and is said to be delicious.] + +Here Maciek paused, astonished at himself for having said so much, for +he was silent by nature. + +Slimakowa looked him up and down, gave him a bowl of barszcz and +another of potatoes, and told him to wash in the river. When her +husband came home in the evening Maciek was introduced to him as the +farm-hand who had already chopped wood and fed the cattle. + +Slimak listened in silence. As he was tenderhearted he said, after a +pause: + +'Well, stay with us, good man. It will be better for us and better for +you. And if ever--God grant that may not happen--there should be no +bread in the cottage at all, then you will be no worse off than you are +to-day. Rest, and you will set about your work all right.' + +Thus it came about that this new inmate was received into the cottage. +He was quiet as a mouse, faithful as a dog, and industrious as a pair +of horses, in spite of his lameness. + +After that, with the exception of the yellow dog Burek, no additions +were made to Slimak's household, neither children nor servants nor +property. Life at the gospodarstwo went with perfect regularity. All +the labour, anxiety, and hopes of these human beings centred in the one +aim: daily bread. For this the girl carried in the firewood, or, +singing and jumping, ran to the pit for potatoes. For this the +gospodyni milked the cows at daybreak, baked bread, and moved her +saucepans on and off the fire. For this Maciek, perspiring, dragged his +lame leg after the plough and harrow, and Slimak, murmuring his +morning-prayers, went at dawn to the manor-barn or drove into the town +to deliver the corn which he had sold to the Jews. + +For the same reason they worried when there was not enough snow on the +rye in winter, or when they could not get enough fodder for the cattle; +or prayed for rain in May and for fine weather at the end of June. On +this account they would calculate after the harvest how much corn they +would get out of a korzec,[1] and what prices it would fetch. Like bees +round a hive their thoughts swarmed round the question of daily bread. +They never moved far from this subject, and to leave it aside +altogether was impossible. They even said with pride that, as gentlemen +were in the world to enjoy themselves and to order people about, so +peasants existed for the purpose of feeding themselves and others. + +[Footnote 1: A _korzec_ is twelve hundred sheaves.] + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was April. After their dinner Slimak's household dispersed to their +different occupations. The gospodyni, tying a red handkerchief round +her head and a white linen one round her neck, ran down to the river. +Stasiek followed her, looking at the clouds and observing to himself +that they were different every day. Magda busied herself washing up the +dinner things, singing 'Oh, da, da', louder and louder in proportion as +the mistress went farther away. Jendrek began pushing Magda about, +pulling the dog's tail and whistling penetratingly; finally he ran out +with a spade into the orchard. Slimak sat by the stove. He was a man of +medium height with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. He had a calm +face, short moustache, and thick straight hair falling abundantly over +his forehead and on to his neck. A red-glass stud set in brass shone in +his sacking shirt. He rested the elbow of his left arm on his right +fist and smoked a pipe, but when his eyes closed and his head fell too +far forward, he righted himself and rested his right elbow on his left +fist. He puffed out the grey smoke and dozed alternately, spitting now +and then into the middle of the room or shifting his hands. When the +pipestem began to twitter like a young sparrow, he knocked the bowl a +few times against the bench, emptied the ashes, and poked his finger +down. Yawning, he got up and laid the pipe on the shelf. + +He glanced under his brows at Magda and shrugged his shoulders. The +liveliness of the girl who skipped about while she was washing her +dishes, roused a contemptuous compassion in him. He knew well what it +felt like to have no desire for skipping about, and how great the +weight of a man's head, hands, and feet can be when he has been hard at +work. + +He put on his thick hobnailed boots and a stiff sukmana,[1] fastened a +hard strap round his waist, and put on his high sheepskin cap. The +heaviness in his limbs increased, and it came into his mind that it +would be more suitable to be buried in a bundle of straw after a huge +bowl of peeled barley-soup and another of cheese dumplings, than to go +to work. But he put this thought aside, and went out slowly into the +yard. In his snuff-coloured sukmana and black cap he looked like the +stem of a pine, burnt at the top. + +[Footnote 1: _Sukmana_, a long linen coat, often elaborately +embroidered.] + +The barn door was open, and by sheer perversity some bundles of straw +were peeping out, luring Slimak to a doze. But he turned away his head +and looked at one of the hills where he had sown oats that morning. He +fancied the yellow grain in the furrows was looking frightened, as if +trying in vain to hide from the sparrows that were picking it up. + +'You will eat me up altogether,' Slimak muttered. With heavy steps he +approached the shed, took out the two harrows, and led the chestnuts +out of the stable; one was yawning and the other moved his lips, +looking at Slimak and blinking his eyes, as if he thought: 'Would you +not prefer to doze and not to drag us up the hill? Didn't we do enough +work for you yesterday?' Slimak nodded, as if in answer, and drove off. + +Seen from below, the thick-set man and the horses with heads hanging +down, seemed to harrow the blue sky, moving a few hundred paces +backward and forward. As often as they reached the edge of the sown +field, a flight of sparrows rose up, twittering angrily, and flew over +them like a cloud, then settled at the other end, shrieking continually +in astonishment that earth should be poured on to such lovely grain. + +'Silly fool! Silly fool! What a silly fool!' they cried. + +'Bah!' murmured Slimak, cracking his whip at them, 'if I listened to +you idlers, you and I would both starve under the fence. The beggars +are playing the deuce here!' + +Certainly Slimak got little encouragement in his labour. Not only that +the sparrows noisily criticized his work, and the chestnuts scornfully +whisked their tails under his nose, but the harrows also objected, and +resisted at every little stone or clod of earth. The tired horses +continually stumbled, and when Slimak cried 'Woa, my lads!' and they +went on, the harrows again resisted and pulled them back. When the +worried harrows moved on for a bit, stones got into the horses' feet or +under his own shoes, or choked up, and even broke the teeth of the +harrows. Even the ungrateful earth offered resistance. + +'You are worse than a pig!' the man said angrily. 'If I took to +scratching a pig's back with a horsecomb, it would lie down quietly and +grunt with gratitude. But you are always bristling, as if I did you an +injury!' + +The sun took up the affronted earth's cause, and threw a great sheaf of +light across the ashen-coloured field, where dark and yellow patches +were visible. + +'Look at that black patch,' said the sun, 'the hill was all black like +that when your father sowed wheat on it. And now look at the yellow +patch where the stony ground comes out from under the mould and will +soon possess all your land.' + +'But that is not my fault,' said Slimak. + +'Not your fault?' whispered the earth; 'you yourself eat three times a +day, but how often do you feed me? It is much if it is once in eight +years. And then you think you give me a great deal, but a dog would +starve on such fare. You know that you always grudge me the manure, +shame on you!' + +The penitent peasant hung his head. + +'And you sleep twice in twenty-four hours unless your wife drives you +to work, but how much rest do you give me? Once in ten years, and then +your cattle trample upon me. So I am to be content with being harrowed? +Just try giving no hay or litter to your cows, only scratch them and +see whether they will give you milk. They will get ill, the slaughterer +will have to be sent for, and even the Jew will give you nothing for +their hides.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed the peasant, acknowledging that the earth +was right. But no one pitied or comforted him--on the contrary! The +west wind rose, and twining itself among the dry stalks on the +field-paths, whistled: + +'Look sharp, you'll catch it! I will bring such a deluge of rain that +the remainder of the mould will be spurted on to the highroad or into +the manor-fields. And though you should harrow with your own teeth, you +shall get less and less comfort every year! I will make everything +sterile!' + +The wind was not threatening in vain. In Slimak's father's time ten +korzy of sheaves an acre had been harvested here. Now he had to be +thankful for seven, and what was going to happen in the future? + +'That's a peasant's lot,' murmured Slimak, 'work, work, work, and from +one difficulty you get into another. If only it could be otherwise, if +only I could manage to have another cow and perhaps get that little +meadow....' + +His whip was pointed at the green field by the Bialka. + +But the sparrows only twittered 'You fool!' and the earth groaned: 'You +are starving me!' + +He stopped the horses and looked around him to divert his thoughts. + +Jendrek was digging between the cottage and the highroad, throwing +stones at the birds now and then or singing out of tune: + + 'God grant you, God grant you + That I may not find you. + For else, my fair maid, + You should open your gate.' + +And Magda answered from within: + + 'Although I am poor + And my mother was poor, + I'll not at the gate + Kiss you early or late.' + +Slimak turned towards the river where his wife could be plainly seen in +her white chemise and red skirt, bending over the water and beating the +linen with a stick until the valley rang. Stasiek had already strayed +farther towards the ravines. Sometimes he knelt down on the bank and +gazed into the river, supported on his elbows. Slimak smiled. + +'Peering again! What does he see down there?' he whispered. + +Stasiek was his favourite, and struck him as an unusual child, who +could see things that others did not see. + +While Slimak cracked his whip and the horses went on, his thoughts were +travelling in the direction of the desired field. + +'How much land have I got?' he meditated, 'ten acres; if I had only +sown six or seven every year and let the rest lie fallow, how could I +have fed my hungry family? And the man, he eats as much as I do, though +he is lame; and he has fifteen roubles wages besides. Magda eats less, +but then she is lazy enough to make a dog howl. I'm lucky when they +want me for work at the manor, or if a Jewess hires my horses to go for +a drive, or my wife sells butter and eggs. And what is there saved when +all is said and done? Perhaps fifty roubles in the whole year. When we +were first married, a hundred did not astonish me. Manure the ground +indeed! Let the squire take it into his head not to employ me, or not +to sell me fodder, what then? I should have to drive the cattle to +market and die of hunger. + +'I am not as well off as Gryb or Lukasiak or Sarnecki. They live like +gentlemen. One drives to church with his wife, the other wears a cap +like a burgher, and the third would like to turn out the Wojt[1] and +wear the chain himself. But I have to say to myself, 'Be poor on ten +acres and go and bow and scrape to the bailiff at the manor that he may +remember you. Well, let it be as it is! Better be master on a square +yard of your own than a beggar on another's large estate.' A cloud of +dust was rising on the high-road beyond the river. Some one was coming +towards the bridge from the manor-house, riding in a peculiar fashion. +The wind blew from behind, but the dust was so thick that sometimes it +travelled backwards. Occasionally horse and rider showed above it, but +the next moment it whirled round and round them again, as if the road +was raising a storm. Slimak shaded his eyes with his hand. + +[Footnote 1: The designations Wojt and Soltys are derived from the +German Vogt and Sdiultheiss. Their functions in the townships or +villages are of a different kind; in small villages there may be only +one of these functionaries, the Soltys. He is the representative of the +Government, collects rates and taxes and requisitions horses for the +army. The Wojt is head of the village, and magistrate. All legal +matters would be referred to him.] + +'What an odd way of riding? who can it be? not the squire, nor his +coachman. He can't be a Catholic, not even a Jew; for although a Jew +would bob up and down on the horse as he does, he would never make a +horse go in that reckless way. It must be some crazy stranger.' + +The rider had now come near enough for Slimak to see what he was like. +He was slim and dressed in gentleman's clothes, consisting of a light +suit and velvet jockey cap. He had eyeglasses on his nose and a cigar +in his mouth, and he was carrying his riding whip under his arm, +holding the reins in both hands between the horse's neck and his own +beard, while he was shaking violently up and down; he hugged the saddle +so tightly with his bow legs that his trousers were rucked up, showing +his calves. + +Anyone in the very least acquainted with equestrian matters could guess +that this was the first time the rider had sat upon a horse, or that +the horse had carried such a rider. At moments they seemed to be +ambling along harmoniously, until the bobbing cavalier would lose his +balance and tug at the reins; then the horse, which had a soft mouth, +would turn sideways or stand still; the rider would then smack his +lips, and if this had no effect he would fumble for the whip. The +horse, guessing what was required, would start again, shaking him up +and down until he looked like a rag doll badly sewn together. + +All this did not upset his temper, for indeed, this was the first time +the rider had realized the dearest wish of a lifetime, and he was +enjoying himself to the full. + +Sometimes the quiet but desperate horse would break into a gallop. Then +the rider, keeping his balance by a miracle, would drop his +bridle-fantasias and imagine himself a cavalry captain riding to the +attack at the head of his squadron, until, unaccustomed to his rank of +officer, he would perform some unexpected movement which made the horse +suddenly stand still again, and would cause the gallant captain to hit +his nose or his cigar against the neck of his steed. + +He was, moreover, a democratic gentleman. When the horse took a fancy +to trot towards the village instead of towards the bridge, a crowd of +dogs and children ran after him with every sign of pleasure. Instead of +annoyance a benevolent enjoyment would then take possession of him, for +next to riding exercise he passionately loved the people, because they +could manage horses. After a while, however, his role of cavalry +captain would please him more, and after further performances with the +reins, he succeeded in turning back towards the bridge. He evidently +intended to ride through the length and breadth of the valley. + +Slimak was still watching him. + +'Eh, that must be the squire's brother-in-law, who was expected from +Warsaw,' he said to himself, much amused; 'our squire chose a gracious +little wife, and was not even very long about it; but he might have +searched the length of the world for a brother-in-law like that! A bear +would be a commoner sight in these parts than a man sitting a horse as +he does! He looks as stupid as a cowherd--still, he is the squire's +brother-in-law.' + +While Slirnak was thus taking the measure of this friend of the people, +the latter had reached the bridge; the noise of Slimakowa's stick had +attracted his attention. He turned the horse towards the bridge-rail +and craned his neck over the water; indeed, his slim figure and peaked +jockey cap made him look uncommonly like a crane. + +'What does he want now?' thought Slimak. The horseman was evidently +asking Slimakowa a question, for she got up and raised her head. Slimak +noticed for the first time that she was in the habit of tucking up her +skirts very high, showing her bare knees. + +'What the deuce does he want?' he repeated, objecting to the short +skirt. + +The cavalier rode off the bridge with no little difficulty and reined +up beside the woman. Slimak was now watching breathlessly. + +Suddenly the young man stretched out his hand towards Slimakowa's neck, +but she raised her stick so threateningly that the scared horse started +away at a gallop, and the rider was left clinging to his neck. + +'Jagna! what are you doing?' shouted Slimak; 'that's the squire's +brother-in-law, you fool!' + +But the shout did not reach her, and the young man did not seem at all +offended. He kissed his hand to Slimakowa and dug his heels into the +horse, which threw up its head and started in the direction of the +cottage at a sharp trot. But this time success did not attend the +rider, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and clutching his charger +by the mane, he shouted: 'Stop, you devil!' + +Jendrek heard the cry, clambered on to the gate, and seeing the strange +performance, burst out laughing. The rider's jockey cap fell off. 'Pick +up the cap, my boy,' the horseman called out in passing. + +'Pick it up yourself,' laughed Jendrek, clapping his hands to excite +the horse still more. + +The father listened to the boy's answer speechless with astonishment, +but he soon recovered himself. + +'Jendrek, you young dog, give the gentleman his cap when he tells you!' +he cried. + +Jendrek took the jockey cap between two fingers, holding it in front of +him and offering it to the rider when he had succeeded in stopping his +horse. + +'Thank you, thank you very much,' he said, no less amused than Jendrek +himself. + +'Jendrek, take off your cap to the gentleman at once,' called Slimak. + +'Why should I take off my cap to everybody?' asked the lad saucily. + +'Excellent, that's right!...' The young man seemed pleased. 'Wait, you +shall have twenty kopeks for that; a free citizen should never humble +himself before anybody.' + +Slimak, by no means sharing the gentleman's democratic theories, +advanced towards Jendrek with his cap in one hand and the whip in the +other. + +'Citizen!' cried the cavalier, 'I beg you not to beat the boy...do not +crush his independent soul...do not...' he would have liked to have +continued, but the horse, getting bored, started off again in the +direction of the bridge. When he saw Slimakowa coming towards the +cottage, he took off his dusty cap and called out: + +'Madam, do not let him beat the boy!' + +Jendrek had disappeared. + +Slimak stood rooted to the spot, pondering upon this queer fish, who +first was impertinent to his wife, then called her 'Madam', and himself +'Citizen', and praised Jendrek for his cheek. + +He returned angrily to his horses. + +'Woa, lads! what's the world coming to? A peasant's son won't take off +his cap to a gentleman, and the gentleman praises him for it! He is the +squire's brother-in-law--all the same, he must be a little wrong in his +head. Soon there will be no gentlemen left, and then the peasants will +have to die. Maybe when Jendrek grows up he will look after himself; he +won't be a peasant, that's clear. Woa, lads!' + +He imagined Jendrek in button-boots and a jockey cap, and he spat. + +'Bah! so long as I am about, you won't dress like that, young dog! All +the same I shall have to warm his latter end for him, or else he won't +take his cap off to the squire next, and then I can go begging. It's +the wife's fault, she is always spoiling him. There's nothing for it, I +must give him a hiding.' + +Again dust was rising on the road, this time in the direction of the +plain. Slimak saw two forms, one tall, the other oblong; the oblong was +walking behind the tall one and nodding its head. + +'Who's sending a cow to market?' he thought, '... well, the boy must be +thrashed...if only I could have another cow and that bit of field.' + +He drove the horses down the hill towards the Bialka, where he caught +sight of Stasiek, but could see nothing more of his farm or of the +road. He was beginning to feel very tired; his feet seemed a heavy +weight, but the weight of uncertainty was still greater, and he never +got enough sleep. When his work was finished, he often had to drive off +to the town. + +'If I had another cow and that field,' he thought, 'I could sleep +more.' + +He had been meditating on this while harrowing over a fresh bit for +half an hour, when he heard his wife calling from the hill: + +'Josef, Josef!' + +'What's up?' + +'Do you know what has happened?' 'How should I know?' + +'Is it a new tax?' anxiously crossed his mind. + +'Magda's uncle has come, you know, that Grochowski....' + +'If he wants to take the girl back--let him.' + +'He has brought a cow and wants to sell her to Gryb for thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter. She is a lovely cow.' + +'Let him sell her; what's that to do with me?' + +'This much: that you are going to buy her,' said the woman firmly. + +Slimak dropped his hand with the whip, bent his head forward, and +looked at his wife. The proposal seemed monstrous. + +'What's wrong with you?' he asked. + +'Wrong with me?' She raised her voice. 'Can't I afford the cow? Gryb +has bought his wife a new cart, and you grudge me the beasts? There are +two cows in the shed; do you ever trouble about them? You wouldn't have +a shirt to your back if it weren't for them.' + +'Good Lord,' groaned the man, who was getting muddled by his wife's +eloquence,' how am I to feed her? they won't sell me fodder from the +manor.' + +'Rent that field, and you will have fodder.' + +'Fear God, Jagna! what are you saying? How am I to rent that field?' + +'Go to the manor and ask the square; say you will pay up the rent in a +year's time.' + +'As God lives, the woman is mad! our beasts pull a little from that +field now for nothing; I should be worse off, because I should have to +pay both for the cow and for the field. I won't go to the squire.' + +His wife came close up to him and looked into his eyes. 'You won't go?' + +'I won't go.' + +'Very well, then I will take what fodder there is and your horses may +go to the devil; but I won't let that cow go, _I_ will buy her!' + +'Then buy her.' + +'Yes, I will buy her, but you have got to do the bargaining with +Grochowski; I haven't the time, and I won't drink vodka with him.' + +'Drink! bargain with him! you are mad about that cow!' + +The quick-tempered woman shook her fist in his face. + +'Josef, don't upset me when you yourself have nothing at all to +propose. Listen! you are worrying every day that you haven't enough +manure; you are always telling me that you want three beasts, and when +the time comes, you won't buy them. The two cows you have cost you +nothing and bring you in produce, the third would be clear gain. +Listen.... I tell you, listen! Finish your work, then come indoors and +bargain for the cow; if not, I'll have nothing more to do with you.' + +She turned her back and went off. + +The man put his hands to his head. + +'God bless me, what a woman!' he groaned, 'how can I, poor devil, rent +that field? She persists in having the cow, and makes a fuss, and it +doesn't matter what you say, you may as well talk to a wall. Why was I +ever born? everything is against me. Woa, lads!' + +He fancied that the earth and the wind were laughing at him again: + +'You'll pay the thirty-five paper roubles and the silver rouble for the +halter! Week after week, month after month you have been putting by +your money, and to-day you'll spend it all as if you were cracking a +nut. You will swell Grochowski's pockets and your own pouch will be +empty. You will wait in fear and uncertainty at the manor and bow to +the bailiff when it pleases him to give you the receipt for your +rent!... + +'Perhaps the squire won't even let me have the field.' + +'Don't talk nonsense!' twittered the sparrows; 'you know quite well +that he'll let you have it.' + +'Oh yes, he'll let me have it,' he retorted hotly, 'for my good money. +I would rather bear a severe pain than waste money on such a foolish +thing.' + +The sun was low by the time Slimak had finished his last bit of +harrowing near the highroad. At the moment when he stopped he heard the +new cow low. Her voice pleased him and softened his heart a little. + +'Three cows is more than two,' he thought, 'people will respect me +more. But the money... ah well, it's all my own fault!' + +He remembered how many times he had said that he must have another cow +and that field, and had boasted to his wife that people had encouraged +him to carve his own farm implements, because he was so clever at it. + +She had listened patiently for two or three years; now at last she took +things into her own hands and told him to buy the cow and rent the +field at once. Merciful Jesu! what a hard woman! What would she drive +him to next? He would really have to put up sheds and make farm carts! + +Intelligent and even ingenious as Slimak was, he never dared to do +anything fresh unless driven to it. He understood his farm work +thoroughly, he could even mend the thrashing-machine at the +manor-house, and he kept everything in his head, beginning with the +rotation of crops on his land. Yet his mind lacked that fine thread +which joins the project to the accomplishment. Instead of this the +sense of obedience was very strongly developed in him. The squire, the +priest, the Wojt, his wife were all sent from God. He used to say: + +'A peasant is in the world to carry out orders.' + +The sun was sinking behind the hill crest when he drove his horses on +to the highroad, and he was pondering on how he would begin his +bargaining with Grochowski when he heard a guttural voice behind him, +'Heh! heh!' + +Two men were standing on the highroad, one was grey-headed and +clean-shaven, and wore a German peaked cap, the other young and tall, +with a beard and a Polish cap. A two-horse vehicle was drawn up a +little farther back. + +'Is that your field?' the bearded man asked in an unpleasant voice. + +'Stop, Fritz,' the elder interrupted him. + +'What am I to stop for?' the other said angrily. + +'Stop! Is this your land, gospodarz?' the grey-haired man asked very +politely. + +'Of course it's mine, who else should it belong to?' + +Stasiek came running up from the field at that moment and looked at the +strangers with a mixture of distrust and admiration. + +'And is that your field?' the bearded one repeated. + +'Stop, Fritz! Is it your field, gospodarz?' the old man corrected him. + +'It's not mine; it belongs to the manor.' + +'And whose is the hill with the pine?' + +'Stop, Fritz...' + +'Oh well, if you are going to interrupt all the time, father....' + +'Stop... is the hill yours, gospodarz?' + +'It's mine; no one else's.' + +'There you are, Fritz,' the old man said in German; 'that's the very +place for Wilhelm's windmill.' + +'The reason why Wilhelm has not yet put up a windmill is not that there +are no hills, but that he is a lazy fellow.' + +'Don't be disagreeable, Fritz! Then those fields beyond the highroad +and the ravines are not yours, gospodarz?' + +'How should they be, when they belong to the manor?' + +'Oh yes,' the bearded one interrupted impatiently; 'everyone knows that +he sits here in the manor-fields like a hole in a bridge. The devil +take the whole business.' + +'Wait, Fritz! Do the manor-fields surround you on all sides, +gospodarz?' + +'Of course.' + +'Well, that will do,' said the younger man, drawing his father towards +the carriage. + +'God bless you, gospodarz,' said the elder, touching his cap. + +'What a gossip you are, father! Wilhelm will never do anything; you may +find him ever so many hills.' + +'What do they want, daddy?' Stasiek asked suddenly. + +'Ah, yes! true!' + +Slimak was roused: 'Heh, sir!' + +The older man looked round. + +'What are you asking me all those questions for?' + +'Because it pleases us to do so,' the younger man answered, pushing his +father into the carriage. + +'Farewell! we shall meet again!' cried the old man. + +The carriage rolled away. + +'What a crew they are on the highroad to-day, it's like a fair!' said +Slimak. + +'But who are those people, daddy?' + +'Those? They must be Germans from Wolka, twelve miles from here.' + +'Why did they ask so many questions about your land?' + +'They are not the only ones to do that, child. This country pleases +people so much that they come over here from a long way off; they come +as far as the pine hill and then they go away again. That is all I know +about them.' + +He turned the horses homeward and was already forgetting the Germans. +The cow and the field were engaging all his thoughts. Supposing he +bought her! he would be able to manure the ground better, and he might +even pay an old man to come to the cottage for the winter and teach his +boys to read and write. What would the other peasants say to that? It +would greatly improve his position; he would have a better place in +church and at the inn, and with greater prosperity he would be able to +take more rest. + +Oh, for more rest! Slimak had never known hunger or cold, he had a good +home and human affection, and he would have been quite happy if only +his bones had not ached so much, and if he could have lain down or sat +still to his heart's content. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Returning to the courtyard, Slimak let Maciek take the horses. He +looked at the cow, which was tied to the fence. Despite the falling +darkness he could see that she was a beautiful creature; she was white +with black patches, had a small head, short horns and a large udder. He +examined her and admitted that neither of his cows were as fine as this +one. + +He thought of leading her round the yard, but he suddenly felt as if he +could not move another step, his arms seemed to be dropping from their +joints and his legs were sinking. Until sunset a man can go on +harrowing, but after sunset it is no good trying to do anything more. +So he patted the cow instead of leading her about. She seemed to +understand the situation, for she turned her head towards him and +touched his hand with her wet mouth. Slimak was so overcome with +emotion that he very nearly kissed her, as if she were a human being. + +'I must buy her,' he muttered, forgetting even his tiredness. + +The gospodyni stood in the door with a pail of dishwater for the +cattle. + +'Maciek,' she called, 'when the cow has had a drink, lead her to the +cowshed. The Soltys will stay the night; the cow can't be left out of +doors.' + +'Well, what next?' asked Slimak. + +'What has to be, has to be,' she replied. 'He wants the thirty-five +roubles and the silver rouble for the halter--but,' she continued after +a pause, 'truth is truth, she is worth it. I milked her, and though she +had been on the road, she gave more milk than Lysa.' + +'Have you asked him whether he won't come down a bit?' + +The peasant again felt the weariness in all his limbs. Good God! how +many hours of sleep would have to be sacrificed, before he could make +another thirty-five roubles! + +'Not likely! It's something that he will sell her to us at all; he +keeps on saying he promised her to Gryb.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'Come, Josef, be friendly and drink vodka with him, then perhaps the +Lord Jesus will give him reflection. But keep looking at me, and don't +talk too much; you will see, it will turn out all right.' + +Maciek led the cow to the shed; she looked about and whisked her tail +so heartily that Slimak could not take his eyes off her. + +'It's God's will,' he murmured. 'I'll bargain for her.' + +He crossed himself at the door, but his heart was trembling in +anticipation of all the difficulties. + +His guest was sitting by the fire and admonishing Magda in fatherly +fashion to be faithful and obedient to her master and mistress. + +'If they order you into the water--jump into the water; if they order +you into the fire--go into the fire; and if the mistress gives you a +good hiding, kiss her hand and thank her, for I tell you: sacred is the +hand that strikes....' + +As he said this the red light of the fire fell upon him; he had raised +his hand and looked like a preacher. + +Magda fancied that the trembling shadow on the wall was repeating: +'Sacred is the hand that strikes!' + +She wept copiously; she felt she was listening to a beautiful sermon, +but at the same time blue stripes seemed to be swelling on her back at +his words. Yet she listened without fear or regret, only with dim +gratitude, mingled with recollections of her childhood. + +The door opened and Slimak said: + +'The Lord be praised.' + +'In all eternity,' answered Grochowski. When he stood up, his head +nearly touched the ceiling. + +'May God repay you, Soltys, for coming to us,' said Slimak, shaking his +hand. + +'May God repay you for your kindness in receiving me.' + +'And say at once, should you be uncomfortable.' + +'Eh! I'm not half so comfortable at home, and it's not only to me but +also to the cow that you are giving hospitality.' + +'Praise God that you are satisfied.' + +'I am doubly satisfied, because I see how well you are treating Magda. +Magda! fall at your master's feet at once, for your father could not +treat you better. And you, neighbour, don't spare the strap.' + +'She's not a bad girl,' said Slimak. + +Sobbing heartily the girl fell first at her uncle's feet, then at the +gospodarz's, and then escaped into the passage. She hugged herself and +still emitted great sobs; but her eyes were dry. She began calling +softly in a mournful voice: 'Pig! pig! pig!' But the pigs had turned in +for the night. Instead Jendrek and Stasiek with the dog Burek emerged +from the twilight. Jendrek wanted to push her over, but she gave him a +punch in the eye. The boys seized her by the arms, Burek followed, and +shrieking and barking and inextricably entwined so that one could not +tell which was child and which was dog, all four melted into the mists +that were hanging over the meadows. + +Sitting by the stove, the two gospodarze were talking. + +'How is it you are getting rid of the cow?' + +'You see, it's like this. That cow is not mine, it belongs to Magda, +but my wife says she doesn't care about looking after somebody else's +cow, and the shed is too small for ours as it is. I don't pay much +attention to her usually, but it happens that there is a bit of land to +be sold adjoining Magda's. Komara, to whom it belonged, has drunk +himself to death. So I am thinking: I will sell the cow and buy the +girl another acre--land is land.' + +'That's true!' sighed Slimak. + +'And as there will be new servituty, the girl will get even more.' + +'How is that?' Slimak became interested. + +'They will give you twice as much as you possess; I possess twenty-five +acres, so I shall have fifty. How many have you got?' + +'Ten.' + +'Then you will have twenty, and Magda will get another two and a half +with her own.' + +'Is it certain about the servituty?' + +'Who can tell? some say it is, others laugh about it. But I am thinking +I will buy this land while there is the chance, especially as my wife +does not wish it.' + +'Then what is the good of buying the land if you will shortly get it +for nothing?' + +'The truth is, as it's not my money I don't care how I spend it. If I +were you I shouldn't be in a hurry to rent from the manor either; there +is no harm in waiting. The wise man is never in a hurry.' + +'No, the wise man goes slowly,' Slimak deliberated. + +The gospodyni appeared at that moment with Maciek. They went into the +alcove, drew two chairs and the cherrywood table into the middle of it, +covered it with a cloth and placed a petroleum lamp without a chimney +on it. + +'Come, Soltys,' called the gospodyni,' you will have supper more +comfortably in here.' + +Maciek, with a broad smile, retired awkwardly behind the stove as the +two gospodarze went into the alcove. + +'What a beautiful room,' said Grochowski, looking round, 'plenty of +holy pictures on the walls, a painted bed, a wooden floor and flowers +in the windows. That must be your doing, gospodyni?' + +'Why, yes,' said the woman, pleased, 'he is always at the manor or in +the town and doesn't care about his home; it was all I could do to make +him lay the floor. Be so kind as to sit near the stove, neighbour, I'll +get supper.' + +She poured out a large bowl of peeled barley soup and put it on the +table, and a small one for Maciek. + +'Eat in God's name, and if you want anything, say so.' + +'But are not you going to sit down?' + +'I always eat last with the children. Maciek, you may take your bowl.' + +Maciek, grinning, took his portion and sat down on a bench opposite the +alcove, so that he could see the Soltys and listen to human +intercourse, for which he was longing. He looked contentedly from +behind his steaming bowl at the table; the smoking lamp seemed to him +the most brilliant illumination, and the wooden chairs the height of +comfort. The sight of the Soltys, who was lolling back, filled him with +reverence. Was it not he who had driven him to the recruiting-office +when it was the time for the drawing of lots? who had ordered him to be +taken to the hospital and told him he would come out completely cured? +who collected the taxes and carried the largest banner at the +processions and intoned 'Let us praise the Holy Virgin'? And now he, +Maciek Owczarz, was sitting under one roof with this same Grochowski. + +How comfortable he made himself! Maciek tried to lean back in the same +fashion, but the scandalized wall pushed him forward, reminding him +that he was not the Soltys. So although his back ached, he bent still +lower and hid his feet in their torn boots under the bench. Why should +he be comfortable? It was enough if the master and the Soltys were. He +ate his soup and listened with both ears. + +'What makes you take the cow to Gryb?' asked the gospodyni. + +'Because he wants to buy her.' + +'We might buy her ourselves.' + +'Yes, that might be so,' put in Slimak; 'the girl is here, the cow +should be here too.' + +'That's right, isn't it, Maciek?' asked the woman. + +'Oho, ho!' laughed Maciek, till the soup ran out of his spoon. + +'What's true is true,' said Grochowski; 'even Gryb ought to understand +that the cow ought to be where the girl is.' + +'Then sell her to us,' Slimak said quickly. + +Grochowski dropped his spoon on the table and his head on his chest. He +reflected for a while, then he said in a tone of resignation: + +'There's no help for it; as you are quite, decided I must sell you the +cow.' + +'But you'll take off something for us, won't you?' hastily added the +woman in an ingratiating tone. + +The Soltys reflected once more. + +'You see, it's like this; if it were my cow I would come down. But she +belongs to a poor orphan. How could I harm her? Give me thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble and the cow will be yours.' + +'That's too much,' sighed Slimak. + +'But she is worth it!' said the Soltys. + +'Still, money sits in the chest and doesn't eat.' + +'Neither will it give milk.' + +'I should have to rent the field.' + +'That will be cheaper than buying fodder.' + +A long silence ensued, then Slimak said: + +'Well, neighbour, say your last word.' + +'I tell you, thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble. Gryb will +be angry, but I'll do this for you.' + +The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a +bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate. + +'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka. + +'Drink in God's name!' + +They emptied the glasses and began to chew the dry sausage in silence. +Maciek was so affected by the sight of the vodka that he folded his +hands on his stomach. It struck him that those two must be feeling very +happy, so he felt happy too. + +'I really don't know whether to buy the cow or not,' said Slimak; 'your +price has taken the wish from me.' + +Grochowski moved uneasily on his chair. + +'My dear friend,' he said, 'what am I to do? this is the orphan's +affair. I have got to buy her land, if for no other reason but because +it annoys my wife.' + +'You won't give thirty-five roubles for an acre.' + +'Land is getting dearer, because the Germans want to buy it.' + +'The Germans?' + +'Those who bought Wolka. They want other Germans to settle near here.' + +'There were two Germans near my field asking me a lot of questions. I +didn't know what they wanted.' + +'There you are! they creep in. Directly one has settled, others come +like ants after honey, and then the land gets dearer.' + +'Do they know anything about peasants' work?' + +'Rather! They make more profits than we who are born here. The Germans +are clever; they have a lot of cattle, sow clover and carry on a trade +in the winter. We can't compete with them.' + +'I wonder what their religion is like? They talk to each other like +Jews.' + +'Their religion is better than the Jews',' the Soltys said, after +reflecting; 'but what is not Catholic is nothing. They have churches +with benches and an organ; but their priests are married and go about +in overcoats, and where the blessed Host ought to be on the altar they +have a crucifix, like ours in the porch.' + +'That's not as good as our religion.' + +'Why!' said Grochowski, 'they don't even pray to the Blessed Mother.' + +The gospodyni crossed herself. + +'It's odd that the Merciful God should bless such people with +prosperity. Drink, neighbour!' + +'To your health! Why should God not bless them, when they have a lot of +cattle? That's at the bottom of all prosperity.' + +Slimak became pensive and suddenly struck his fist on the table. + +'Neighbour,' he cried, raising his voice, 'sell me the cow!' + +'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table. + +'I'll give you...thirty-one roubles...as I love you.' Grochowski +embraced him. + +'Brother...give me...thirty...and four paper roubles and a silver +rouble for the halter.' + +The tired children cautiously stole into the room; the gospodyni poured +out some soup for them and told them to sit in the corner and be quiet. +And quiet they were, except at one moment when Stasiek fell off the +bench and his mother slapped Jendrek for it. Maciek dozed, dreaming +that he was drinking vodka. He felt the liquor going to his head and +fancied himself sitting by the Soltys and embracing him. The fumes of +the vodka and the lamp were filling the room. Slimak and Grochowski +moved closer together. + +'Neighbour...Soltys,' said Slimak, striking the table again. 'I'll give +you whatever you wish, your word is worth more than money to me, for +you are the cleverest man in the parish. The Wojt is a pig...you are +more to me than the Wojt or even the Government Inspector, for you are +cleverer than they are...devil take me!' + +They fell on each other's shoulders and Grochowski wept. + +'Josef, brother,...don't call me Soltys but brother...for we are +brothers!' + +'Wojciek...Soltys...say how much you want for the cow. I'll give it +you, I'll rip myself open to give it you...thirty-five paper roubles +and a silver rouble.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' wailed the gospodyni. 'Weren't you letting the cow +go for thirty-three roubles just now, Soltys?' + +Grochowski raised his tearful eyes first to her, then to Slimak. + +'Was I?... Josef...brother...I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Take her! let the orphan starve, so long as you, my brother, +get a prime cow.' + +Slimate beat a tattoo on the table. + +'Am I to cheat the orphan? I won't; I'll give you thirty-five....' + +'What are you doing, you fool?' his wife interrupted him. + +'Yes, don't be foolish,' Grochowski supported her. 'You have +entertained me so finely that I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Amen! that's my last word.' + +'I won't!' shouted Slimak. 'Am I a Jew that I should be paid for +hospitality?' + +'Josef!' his wife said warningly. + +'Go away, woman!' he cried, getting up with difficulty; 'I'll teach you +to mix yourself up in my affairs.' + +He suddenly fell into the embrace of the weeping Grochowski. + +'Thirty-five....' + +'Thirty-three...' sobbed the Soltys; 'may I not burn in hell!' + +'Josef,' his wife said, 'you must respect your guest; he is older than +you, and he is Soltys. Maciek, help me to get them into the barn.' + +'I'll go by myself,' roared Slimak. + +'Thirty-three roubles...' groaned Grochowski, 'chop me to bits, but I +won't take a grosz more.... I am a Judas.... I wanted to cheat you. I +said I was taking the cow to Gryb...but I was bringing her to you...for +you are my brother....' + +They linked arms and made for the window. Maciek opened the door into +the passage, and after several false starts they reached the courtyard. +The gospodyni took a lantern, rug and pillow, and followed them. When +she reached the yard she saw Grochowski kneeling and rubbing his eyes +with his sukmana and Slimak lying on the manure heap. Maciek was +standing over them. + +'We must do something with them,' he said to the gospodyni; 'they've +drunk a whole bottle of vodka.' + +'Get up, you drunkard,' she cried, 'or I'll pour water over your head.' + +'I'll pour it over you, I'll give you a whipping presently!' her +husband shouted back at her. + +Grochowski fell on his neck. + +'Don't make a hell of your house, brother, or grief will come to us +both.' + +Maciek could not wonder enough at the changes wrought in men by vodka. +Here was the Soltys, known in the whole parish as a hard man, crying +like a child, and Slimak shouting like the bailiff and disobeying his +wife. + +'Come to the barn, Soltys,' said Slimakowa, taking him by one arm while +Maciek took the other. He followed like a lamb, but while she was +preparing his bed on the straw, he fell upon the threshing-floor and +could not be moved by any manner of means. + +'Go to bed, Maciek,' said the gospodyni; 'let that drunkard lie on the +manure-heap, because he has been so disagreeable.' + +Maciek obeyed and went to the stable. When all was quiet, he began for +his amusement to pretend that he was drunk, and acted the part of +Slimak or the Soltys in turns. He talked in a tearful voice like +Grochowski: 'Don't make a hell of your house, brother...' and in order +to make it more real he tried to make himself cry. At first he did not +succeed, but when he remembered his foot, and that he was the most +miserable creature, and the gospodyni hadn't even given him a glass of +vodka, the tears ran freely from his eyes, until he too went to sleep. + +About midnight Slimak awoke, cold and wet, for it had begun to rain. +Gradually his aching head remembered the Soltys, the cow, the barley +soup and the large bottle of vodka. What had become of the vodka? He +was not quite certain on this point, but he was quite sure that the +soup had disagreed with him. + +'I always say you should not eat hot barley soup at night,' he groaned. + +He was no longer in doubt whether or no he was lying on the +manure-heap. Slowly he walked up to the cottage and hesitated on the +doorstep; but the rain began to fall more heavily. He stood still in +the passage and listened to Magda's snoring; then he cautiously opened +the door of the room. + +Stasiek lay on the bench under the window, breathing deeply. There was +no sound from the alcove, and he realized that his wife was not asleep. + +'Jagna, make room...' he tried to steady his voice, but he was seized +with fear. + +There was no answer. + +'Come...move up....' + +'Be off with you, you tippler, and don't come near me.' + +'Where am I to go?' + +'To the manure-heap or the pigsty, that's your proper place. You +threatened me with the whip! I'll take it out of you!' + +'What's the use of talking like that, when nothing is wrong?' said +Slimak, holding his aching head. + +'Nothing wrong? You insisted on paying thirty-five paper roubles and a +silver rouble when Grochowski was letting the cow go for thirty-three +roubles. Nothing wrong, indeed! do three roubles mean nothing to you?' + +Slimak crept to the bench where Stasiek lay and touched his feet. + +'Is that you, daddy?' the boy asked, waking up. + +'Yes, it's I.' + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm just sitting down; something is worrying me inside.' + +The boy put his arms round his neck. + +'I'm so glad you have come,' he said; 'those two Germans keep coming +after me.' + +'What Germans?' + +'Those two by our field, the old one and the man with the beard. They +don't say what they want, but they are walking on me.' + +'Go to sleep, child; there are no Germans here.' + +Stasiek pressed closer to him and began to chatter again: + +'Isn't it true, daddy, that the water can see?' + +'What should it see?' + +'Everything--everything--the sky, the hills; it sees us when we follow +the harrows.' + +'Go to sleep. Don't talk nonsense.' + +'It does, it does, daddy, I've watched it myself,' he whispered, going +to sleep. + +The room was too hot for Slimak; he dragged himself up and staggered to +the barn, where he fell into a bundle of straw. + +'But what I gave for the cow I gave for her,' he muttered in the +direction of the sleeping Grochowski. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Slimakowa came to the barn early the next morning and called her +husband. 'Are you going to be long idling there?' + +'What's the matter?' + +'It's time to go to the manor-house.' + +'Have they sent for me?' + +'Why should they send for you? You have got to go to them and see about +the field.' + +Slimak groaned, but came out on to the threshing-floor. His face was +bloated, he looked ashamed of himself, and his hair was full of straw. + +'Just look at him,' jeered his wife: 'his sukmana is dirty and wet, he +hasn't taken off his boots all night, and he scowls like a brigand. You +are more fit for a scarecrow in a flaxfield than for talking to the +squire. Change your clothes and go.' + +She returned to the cowshed, and a weight fell off Slimak's mind that +the matter had ended there. He had expected to be jeered at till the +afternoon. He came out into the yard and looked round. The sun was +high, the ground had dried after the rain; the wind from the ravines +brought the song of birds and a damp, cheerful smell; the fields had +become green during the night. The sky looked as if it had been +freshened up, and the cottage seemed whiter. + +'A nice day,' he murmured, gaining courage, and went indoors to dress. +He pulled the straw out of his hair and put on a clean shirt and new +boots. He thought they did not look polished enough, so he took a piece +of tallow and rubbed it well first over his hair, then over his boots. +Then he stood in front of the glass and smiled contentedly at the +brilliance he rejected from head to foot. + +His wife came in at that moment and looked disdainfully at him. + +'What have you been doing to your head? You stink of tallow miles off. +You'd better comb your hair.' + +Slimak, silently acknowledging the justice of the remark, took a thick +comb from behind the looking-glass and smoothed his hair till it looked +like polished glass, then he applied the soap to his neck so +energetically that his fingers left large, dark streaks. + +'Where is Grochowski?' he asked in a more cheerful voice, for the cold +water had added to his good temper. + +'He has gone.' + +'What about the money?' + +'I paid him, but he wouldn't take the thirty-three roubles; he said +that Jesus Christ had lived in this world for thirty-three years, so it +would not be right for him to take as much as that for the cow.' + +'Very proper,' Slimak agreed, wishing to impress her with his +theological knowledge, but she turned to the stove and took off a pot +of hot barley soup. Offering it to him with an air of indifference: +'Don't talk so much,' she said. 'Put something hot inside you and go to +the manor-house. But just try and bargain as you did with the Soltys +and I shall have something to say to you.' + +He sat humbly, eating his soup, and his wife took some money from the +chest. 'Take these ten roubles,' she said, 'give them to the squire +himself and promise to bring the rest to-morrow. But mind what he asks +for the field, and kiss his hands, and embrace his and the lady's feet +so that he may let you off at least three roubles. Will you remember?' + +'Why shouldn't I remember?' + +He was obviously repeating his wife's admonitions, for he suddenly +stopped eating and tapped the table rhythmically with the spoon. + +'Well, then, don't sit there and think, but put on your sukmana and go. +And take the boys with you.' + +'What for?' + +'What for? They are to support you when you ask the squire, and Jendrek +will tell me how you have bargained. Now do you know what for?' + +'Women are a pest!' growled Slimak, when she had unfolded her carefully +laid plans. 'Curse her, how she lords it over me! You can see that her +father was a bailiff.' + +He struggled into his sukmana, which was brand new and beautifully +embroidered at the collar and pockets with coloured thread; put on a +broad leather belt, tied the ten roubles up in a rag and slipped them +into his sukmana. The children had long been ready, and at last they +started. + +They had no sooner gone than loneliness began to fill Slimakowa's +heart. She went outside the gate and watched them; her husband, with +his hands in his pockets, was strolling along the road, Jendrek on his +right and Stasiek on his left. Presently Jendrek boxed Stasiek's ears +and as a result he was walking on the left and Stasiek on the right. +Then Slimak boxed both their ears, after which they were both walking +on the left, Jendrek in the ditch, so that he could threaten his +brother with his fist. + +'Bless them, they always find some nice amusement for themselves,' she +whispered, smiling, and went back to put on the dinner. + +Having settled the misunderstanding between his sons, Slimak sang +softly to himself: + + 'Your love is no courtier, + my own heart's desire, + He's riding a pony on his way to the squire.' + +Then in a more melancholy strain: + + 'Oh dearie, dearie me + This is great misery, + What shall I do?...' + +He sighed, and felt that no song could adequately express his anxiety. +Would the squire let him have the field? They were just passing it; he +was almost afraid to look at it, so beautiful and unattainable did it +seem. All the fines he had had to pay for his cattle, all the squire's +threats and admonitions came into his mind. It struck him that if the +field lay farther off and produced sand instead of good grass, he would +have a better chance. + +'Eh, I don't care!' he cried, throwing up his head with an air of +indifference; 'they've often asked me to take it.' + +That was so, but it had been at times when he had not wanted it; now +that he did, they would bargain hard, or not let him have it at all. +Who could tell why that should be so? It was a law of nature that +landlords and peasants were always at cross purposes. + +He remembered how often he had charged too much for work done, or how +often the gospodarze had refused to come to terms with the squire about +rights of grazing or wood-gathering in the forests, and he felt +contrite. Good Lord! how beautifully the squire had spoken to them: +'Let us help each other and live peaceably like good neighbours.' + +And they had answered: 'What's the good of being neighbours? A nobleman +is a nobleman and a peasant is a peasant. We should prefer peasants for +neighbours and you would prefer noblemen.' Then the squire had cited: +'Remember, the runaway goat came back to the cart and said, "Put me +in." But I shall say you nay.' And Gryb, in the name of them all, had +answered: 'The goat will come, your honour, when you throw your forests +open.' + +The squire had said nothing, but his trembling moustaches had warned +them that he would not forget that answer. + +'I always told Gryb not to talk with a long tongue,' Slimak sighed. +'Now it is I who will have to suffer for his impudence.' + +A new idea came into his head. Why should he not pay for the field in +work instead of cash? The Squire might accept it, for he wasn't half a +bad gentleman. It was true, the other gospodarze looked down upon him, +because he was the only one who hired himself out for work; but +whatever happened, the squire would always be the squire, and they the +gospodarze. He hummed again, but under his breath, so that the boys +should not hear him: + + 'The cuckoo cuckooed in the forest, + Say the neighbours, I am the dullest.' + +Suddenly he turned upon Stasiek, and wanted to know why he was dragging +along as if he were being taken to jail, and didn't talk. + +'I...I am wondering why we are going to the manor?' + +'Don't you want to go?' + +'No; I am afraid.' + +'What is there to be afraid of?' snapped Slimak, but he himself was +shivering. + +'You see, my boy,' he continued, more kindly, 'we have bought the new +cow from the Soltys and we shall want more hay, so I am going to ask +the squire to let me rent the field.' + +'I see....But, daddy, I am always wondering what the grass thinks when +the cows chew it up.' + +'What should it think? It doesn't think at all.' + +'But, daddy, why shouldn't it think? When people are standing round the +church in a crowd, they look like grass from a distance, all red and +yellow, like flowers in a field. If some horrible cow came and lapped +them up with her tongue, wouldn't they be able to think?' + +'People would scream, but the grass says nothing.' + +'It does say something! A dry stick cracks when you tread on it, and a +fresh branch cries and clings to the tree when you tear it off, and the +grass squeaks and holds on with its feet,...and...' + +'Oh! you are always saying queer things,' interrupted his father; 'and +you, Jendrek, are you glad that we are going to the manor-house?' + +'Is it I who is going or you?' said Jendrek, shrugging his shoulders. +'I shouldn't go.' + +'Well, what would you do?' + +'I should take the hay and stack it in the yard; then let them come!' + +'You would dare to cut the squire's hay?' + +'How is it his? Has he sown the grass? or is the field near his house?' + +'Don't you see, silly, that the meadow is his just as well as his other +fields?' + +'They are his, so long as no one takes them. Our land and our house +were his once, now they are yours. Why should he be better off than we +are? He does nothing, yet he has enough land for a hundred peasants.' + +'He has it because he has it, because he is a gentleman.' + +'Pooh! If you wore a coat, and your trousers outside your boots, you +would be a gentleman; but for all that you wouldn't have the land.' + +'You are stupid,' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I know I am stupid, that is because I can't read or write, but Jasiek +Gryb can, and therefore he is clever, and he says there must be +equality, and there will be when the peasants have taken the land from +the nobility.' + +'Jasiek had better leave off taking money from his father's chest +before he disposes of other people's property! He might give mine to +Maciek and take the squire's for himself, but he would never give his +own away. Let it be as God has ordered.' + +'Did God give the land to the squire?' + +'God has ordered that there should not be equality in the world. A pine +is tall, a hazel is low, the grass is still lower. Look at sensible +dogs. When a pail of dish-water is brought out to them, the strongest +drinks first, and the others stand by and lick their lips, although +they know that he will take the best part; then they all take their +turn. If they start quarrelling, they upset the pail and the strong get +the better of the weak. + +If people were to say to each other: Disgorge what you have swallowed, +the strong would drive off the weak and leave them to starve.' + +'But if God has given the land to the squire, how can they begin to +distribute it to the people now?' + +'They distribute it so that every one should get what is right for him, +not that he should take what he likes.' + +His son's amazing views added a new worry to Slimak's mind. + +'The rascal! listening to people of that sort! he'll never make a +peasant; it's a mercy he hasn't stolen yet.' + +They were nearing the drive to the manor-house, and Slimak was walking +more and more slowly; Stasiek looked more and more frightened, Jendrek +alone kept his saucy air. + +Through the dark branches of old lime-trees the roof and chimneys of +the manor became visible. Suddenly two shots rang out. + +'They are shooting!' cried Jendrek excitedly, and ran forward. Stasiek +caught hold of his father's pocket. Slimak called Jendrek, who returned +sulkily. They were now on the terrace, where the manor-fields stretched +on either side. Lower down lay the village, still lower the field by +the river, in front of them was the manor, with the outbuildings, +enclosed by a railing. + +'There! that's the manor-house,' said Slimak to Stasiek. 'Isn't it +beautiful?' + +'Which one is it?' + +'Why! the one with pillars in front.' + +Another shot rang out, and they saw a man in fanciful sportsman's +dress. + +'The horseman of yesterday,' cried Jendrek. + +'Ah, that freak!' said Slimak, scrutinizing him with his head on one +side; 'he'll bring me bad luck about the field.' + +'He has a splendid gun,' cried Jendrek; 'but what is he shooting? +There's nothing but sparrows here.' + +'Perhaps he is shooting at us?' suggested Stasiek timidly. + +'Why should he be shooting at us?' his father reassured him; 'shooting +at people isn't allowed. It's true there is no knowing what a lunatic +might do.' + +The sportsman approached, loading his gun; the tattered remains of some +sparrows hung from his bag. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak, taking off his cap. + +'How do you do, citizen?' replied the sportsman, touching his jockey +cap. + +'What a lovely gun!' sighed Jendrek. + +'Do you like it? Eh, wasn't it you who picked up my cap the other day? +I am in your debt; here you are.' He handed Jendrek a twenty-kopek +piece. 'Is that your father? Citizen, if you want to be friends with +me, do not bow so low, and cover your head. It is time that these +survivals of servitude should be forgotten; they can only do us both +harm. Cover yourself, I beg you.' + +Slimak tried to do as he was told, but his hand refused obedience. + +'I feel awkward, sir, standing before you with my cap on,' he said. + +'Oh, hang hereditary social differences!' exclaimed the young man, +snatching the cap from Slimak's hands and putting it on his head. + +'Hang it all!' thought the peasant, unable to follow the democrat's +intentions. + +'What are you going to the manor for?' asked the latter. 'Have you come +on business with my brother-in-law?' + +'We want to beg a favour of the squire'--Slimak refrained with +difficulty from bowing again--'that he should let us rent the field +close to my property.' + +'What for?' + +'We've bought a new cow.' + +'How much cattle have you?' + +'The Lord Jesus possesses five tails in my gospodarstwo, two horses and +three cows, not counting the pigs.' + +'And have you much land?' + +'I wish to God I had, but I have only ten acres, and those are growing +more sterile every year.' + +'That's because you don't understand agriculture. Ten acres is a large +property; in other countries several families live comfortably on that; +here it is not enough for one. But what can you expect if you sow +nothing but rye?' + +'What else should I sow, sir? Wheat doesn't do very well.' + +'Vegetables, my friend, that does the trick! The market gardeners near +Warsaw pay thirty or forty roubles an acre rent and do excellently +well.' + +Slimak hung his head. He was much perturbed, for he had arrived at the +conclusion that the squire would not let him have the field, because he +had so much land already, or that he would ask him thirty or forty +roubles' rent. What other object could the young gentleman possibly +have for saying, such strange things? + +They were approaching the entrance to the garden. + +'I see my sister is in the garden; my brother-in-law is sure to be +about too. I will go and tell him of your business.' + +Slimak bowed low, but inwardly he thought: 'May the pestilence take +him! He is impertinent to my wife, stirs up the boy, and puts my cap on +my head; but he wants to squeeze money out of me, all the same. I knew +he would bring me bad luck.' + +Sounds of an American organ which the squire was playing came from the +house. + +'Daddy, daddy, they are playing!' cried Stasiek in great excitement; he +was flushed, and trembled with emotion, even Jendrek was affected. +Slimak took off his cap and said a prayer for deliverance from the evil +spell of the young gentleman. + +When the organ stopped, they watched this same young gentleman talking +to his sister in the garden. + +'Look at the lady, dad,' said Jendrek; 'she is just like a horsefly, +yellow with black spots, and thin in the waist and fat at the end.' + +The democrat was putting Slimak's case before his sister, and +complained of the signs of servility with which he met at every turn. +He said they spoilt his temper. + +'But what can I do?' said the lady. + +'Go up to them and give them courage.' + +'I like that!' she said. 'I arranged a treat for our farm-labourers' +children to encourage them, and next day they plundered my peach trees. +Go to them? I've done that too. I once went into a cottage where a +child was ill, and my clothes smelt so strongly that I had to give them +to my maid. No, thank you!' + +'All the same, I beg you to do something for these people.' + +Their conversation had been in French while they were approaching the +railings. + +'Oh, it's Slimak.' The lady raised her glasses. 'Well, my good man, my +brother wants me to do something for you. Have you got a daughter?' + +'I haven't, my lady,' said Slimak, kissing the hem of her dress. + +'That's a pity, I might have taught her to do beadwork. Perhaps I could +teach the boys to read?' + +'They are wanted at home, my lady; the elder one is useful already, and +the younger one looks after the pigs in the fields.' + +'Do something for them yourself,' she said to her brother in French. + +'What are they plotting against me?' thought Slimak. + +The squire now came out and joined the group. Slimak began bowing +again, Stasiek's eyes filled with tears, even Jendrek lost his +self-assurance. The conversation reverted into French, and the democrat +warmly supported Slimak's cause. + +'All right, I'll let him have the field,' said the squire; 'then there +will be an end to the trespassing; besides, he is the most honest man +in the village.' + +When Slimak's suspense had become so acute that he had thoughts of +returning home without having settled the business, the squire said: + +'So you want me to let you have the field by the river?' + +'If you will be so kind, sir.' + +'And if you will kindly take off three roubles,' + +Jendrek added quickly. Slimak's blood ran cold; the squire exchanged +glances with his wife. + +'What does that mean?' he asked. 'From what am I to take off three +roubles?' + +Involuntarily Slimak's hand reached for his belt, but he recollected +himself; he made up his mind in despair to tell the truth. + +'If you please, sir, don't take any notice of that puppy; my wife has +been at me for not bargaining well, and she told me to get you to take +three roubles off the rent, and now this young scoundrel puts me to +shame.' + +'Mother told me to look after you.' + +Slimak became absolutely tongue-tied, and the party on the other side +of the railing were convulsed with laughter. + +'Look,' said the squire in French, 'that is the peasant all over. He +won't allow you to speak a word to his wife, but he can't do anything +without her, and doesn't understand any business whatsoever without her +explanations.' + +'Lovely!' laughed his wife, 'now, if you did as I tell you, we should +have left this dull place long ago and gone to Warsaw.' + +'Don't make the peasant out to be an idiot,' remonstrated his +brother-in-law. + +'No need for me to do that; he _is_ an idiot. Our peasants are all +muscle and stomach; they leave reason and energy to their wives. Slimak +is one of the most intelligent, yet I will bet you anything that I can +immediately give you a proof of his being a donkey. Josef,' he said, +turning to Slimak, 'your wife told you to drive a good bargain?' + +'Certainly, sir, what is true is true.' + +'Do you know what Lukasiak pays me yearly?' + +'They say ten roubles.' + +'Then you ought to pay twenty roubles for the two acres.' + +'If you will be lenient, sir,' began Slimak. + +'... and let me off three roubles,' completed the squire. Slimak looked +confused. + +'Very good, I will let you off three roubles; you shall pay me +seventeen roubles yearly. Are you satisfied!' + +Slimak bowed to the ground and thought: 'What is he up to? He is not +bargaining!' + +'Now, Slimak,' continued the squire, 'I will make you another proposal. +Do you know what Gryb paid me for the two acres he bought?' + +'Seventy roubles.' + +'Just so, and he paid for the surveyor and the lawyer. I will sell you +those two acres for sixty roubles and let you off all expenses, so you +would gain a clear twenty roubles against Gryb's bargain, But I make +one condition, you must decide at once and without consulting your +wife; to-morrow my conditions wouldn't be the same.' + +Slimak's eyes blazed; he fancied he saw quite clearly now that there +was a conspiracy against him. + +'That's not a handsome thing to offer, sir,' he said, with a forced +smile; 'you yourself consult with the lady and the young gentleman.' +'There you are! Isn't he a finished idiot?' + +His brother-in-law tapped Slimak on the shoulder. 'Agree to it, my +friend; you'll have the best of the bargain. Of course he agrees,' he +said, turning to the squire. + +'Well, Josef, will you buy it? Do you agree to my conditions?' + +'I'm not such a fool,' thought Slimak, and aloud: 'It wouldn't be fair +to buy it without my wife.' + +'Very well, I'll let it to you. Give me your earnest-money and come for +the receipt to-morrow. There you have the peasant, my democrat!' + +Slimak paid the ten roubles and glared at the retreating party. + +'Ah! you'd like to cheat a peasant, but he has got too much sense! It's +true, then, what Grochowski said about the land-distribution. Sixty +roubles for a field worth seventy, indeed!' + +All the same he could not quite get rid of the thought that it might +have been a straightforward offer. He felt hot all over and wanted to +shout or run after the squire. At that moment the young man hastily +turned back. + +'Buy that field,' he said, quite out of breath; 'my brother-in-law +would still consent if you asked him.' + +In an instant Slimak's distrust returned. + +'No, sir; it wouldn't be fair.' + +'Cattle!' murmured the democrat, and turned his back. The bargain had +disappeared. + +'Let's go home, boys,' and under his breath: 'Damn the aristocracy!' +When they were nearing their home, the boys ran on ahead, for they were +hungry. + +'What is this Jendrek tells me? They wanted to sell you the land for +sixty roubles?' + +'That is so,' he replied, rather frightened; 'they are afraid of the +new land-distributions. They are clever too! They knew all about my +business beforehand, and the squire had set his brother-in-law on to +me.' + +'What! that fellow who spoke to me by the river?' + +'That same fool. He gave Jendrek twenty kopeks and put my cap on my +head, and he told me ten acres was a fortune.' + +'A fortune? His brother-in-law has a thousand and says he hasn't +enough! You did quite right not to buy the field; there is something +shady about that business.' + +But his wife's satisfaction did not completely reassure Slimak; he was +wretchedly in doubt. His dinner gave him no pleasure, and he strolled +about the house without knowing what to do. When his irritation had +reached its climax, a happy thought struck him. + +'Come here, Jendrek,' he said, unbuckling his belt. + +'Oh, daddy, don't,' wailed the boy, although he had been prepared for +the last two hours. + +'You won't escape it this time; lie down on the bench. You've been +laughing at the young gentleman and even making fun of the squire.' + +Stasiek, in tears, embraced his father's knees, Magda ran out of the +room, Jendrek howled. + +'I tell you, lie down! I'll teach you to run about with that scoundrel +of a Jasiek!' + +At that moment Slimakowa tapped at the window. 'Josef, come quick, +something has happened to the new cow, she's staggering.' + +Slimak let go of Jendrek and ran to the cowshed. The three cows were +standing quietly chewing the cud. + +'It has passed off,' said the woman; 'but I tell you a minute ago she +was staggering worse than you did yesterday.' + +He examined the cow carefully, but could find nothing wrong with her. + +Jendrek had meanwhile slipped away, his father's temper had cooled, and +the matter ended as usual on these occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was the height of summer. The squire and his wife had gone away, and +the villagers had forgotten all about them. New wool had begun to grow +on the shorn sheep. + +The sun was so hot that the clouds fled from the sky into the woods, +and the ground protected itself with what it could find; with dust on +the highroads, grass in the meadows, and heavy crops in the fields. + +But human beings had to toil their hardest at this time. At the manor +they were cutting clover and hoeing turnips; in the cottages the women +were piling up the potatoes, while the old women were gathering mallows +for cooling drinks and lime-blossoms against the ague. The priest spent +all his days tracking and taking swarms of bees; Josel, the innkeeper, +was making vinegar. The woods resounded with the voices of children +picking berries. + +The corn was getting ripe, and Slimak began to cut the rye the day +after the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was in a hurry to +get the work done in two or three days, lest the corn should drop out +in the great heat, and also because he wanted to help with the +harvesting at the manor. + +Usually he, Maciek, and Jendrek worked together, alternately cutting +and binding the sheaves. Slimakowa and Magda helped in the early +morning and in the afternoon. + +On the first day, while the five were working together, and had reached +the top of the hill, Magda noticed some men showing against the dark +background of the wood, and drew Slimakowa's attention to them. They +all stopped work and looked. + +'They must be peasants,' Maciek said; 'they are wearing white smocks.' + +'They do not walk like peasants,' said Slimakowa. + +'But they are wearing boots up to their knees,' said Slimak. + +'Look! they are carrying poles,' Jendrek cried; 'and they are dragging +a rope after them.' + +'Ah, they must be surveyors. What can they be after?' reflected Slimak. + +'Surely, they are taking a fresh survey; now, Josef, aren't you glad +you did not buy that land?' asked his wife. They took up their work +again, but did not get on very fast, for they could not resist throwing +sidelong glances at the approaching men. It was now quite plain that +they were not peasants, for they wore white coats and had black ribbons +on their hats. Slimak's attention became so absorbed that he lagged +behind, in the place which Magda usually occupied, instead of being at +the head of the party. At last he cried: + +'Jendrek, stop cutting; run and find out what they are doing, and if +they are really measuring for a new land-distribution.' + +Jendrek was off in a moment, and had soon reached the men. He forgot to +come back. The little party watched him talk to the men for a few +moments, and then becoming busy with the poles. + +'I say!' cried Slimakowa, 'he is quite one of the party! Just look, how +he is running along with the line, as if he had never done anything +else in his life. He has never seen a book except in the Jew's shop +window, and yet he can run better than any of them. I wish I had told +him to put on his boots; they will never take him for the son of a +gospodarz.' + +She watched Jendrek with great pride until the party disappeared behind +the line of the hill. + +'Something will come of this,' said Slimak, 'either good or bad.' + +'Why should it be bad?' asked his wife; 'they may add to our land; what +do you think, Maciek?' + +The farm labourer looked embarrassed when he was asked for his opinion, +and pondered until the perspiration flowed from his head. + +'Why should it be good?' he said at last. 'When I was working for the +squire at Krzeszowie, and he went bankrupt, just such men as these came +and measured the land, and soon afterwards we had to pay a new tax. No +good ever comes of anything new.' + +Jendrek returned towards sunset, quite out of breath. He called out to +his mother that the gentlemen wanted some milk, and had given him +twenty kopeks. + +'Give them to your mother at once,' said Slimak; 'they are not for you, +but for the milk.' + +Jendrek was almost in tears. 'Why should I give up my money? They say +they will pay for everything they have, and even want to buy butter and +fowls.' + +'Are they traders?' + +'Oh no, they are great gentlemen, and live in a tent and keep a cook.' + +'Gipsies, I dare say!' + +Slimakowa had run off at top speed, and now the men appeared, +perspiring, sunburnt, and dusty; nevertheless, they impressed Slimak +and Maciek so much with their grand manner that they took off their +caps. + +'Which of you is the gospodarz?' + +'I am.' + +'How long have you lived here?' + +'From my childhood.' + +'And have you ever seen the river in flood?' + +'I should think I had!' + +'Do you remember how high the water rises?' + +'Sometimes it overflows on to that meadow deep enough to drown a man.' + +'Are you quite sure of that?' + +'Everybody knows that. Those gaps in the hill have been scooped out by +the water.' + +'The bridge will have to be sixty feet high.' + +'Certainly,' said the elder of the two men. 'Can you let us have some +milk, gospodarz?' + +'My wife is getting it ready, if it pleases the gentlemen to come.' + +The whole party turned towards the cottage, for the drinking of milk by +such distinguished gentlemen was an important event; it was decided to +stop harvesting for the day. + +Chairs and the cherrywood table had been placed in front of the +cottage. A rye loaf, butter, white cheese with caraway seeds, and a +bowl of buttermilk were in readiness. + +'Well,' said the men, looking at each other in surprise, 'a nobleman +could not have received us better.' + +They ate heartily, praised everything, and finally asked Slimakowa what +they owed her. + +'May it be to the gentlemen's health!' + +'But we cannot fleece you like this, gospodyni.' + +'We don't take money for hospitality. Besides, you have already given +my boy as much as if he had been harvesting a whole day.' + +'There!' whispered the younger man to the elder, 'isn't that like +Polish peasants?' + +To Slimak they said: 'After such a reception we will promise to build +the station quite near to you.' + +'I don't know what you mean?' + +'We are going to build a railway.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'What makes you so doubtful?' asked the men. + +'I'm thinking that this will turn out badly for us,' Slimak replied; 'I +shan't earn anything by driving.' + +The men laughed. 'Don't be afraid, my friend, it will be a very good +thing for everybody, especially for you, as you will be near the +station. And first of all you will sell us your produce and drive us. +Let us begin at once, what do you want for your fowls?' + +'I leave it to you, sir.' + +'Twenty-five kopeks, then.' + +Slimakowa looked at her husband. This was double the amount they had +usually taken. 'You can have them, sir,' she cried. + +'That scoundrel of a Jew charged us fifty,' murmured the younger man. + +They agreed to buy butter, cheese, crayfish, cucumber, and bread; the +younger man expressing surprise at the cheapness of everything, and the +elder boasting that he always knew how to drive a good bargain. When +they left, they paid Slimakowa sixteen paper roubles and half a silver +rouble, asking her if she was sure that she was not cheating herself. + +'God forbid,' she replied. 'I wish I could sell every day at that +price.' + +'You will, when we have built the railway.' + +'May God bless you!' She made the sign of the cross over them, the farm +labourer knelt down, and Slimak took off his cap. They all accompanied +their guests as far as the ravines. + +When they returned, Slimak set everyone to work in feverish haste. + +'Jagna, get the butter ready; Maciek and Jendrek, go to the river for +the crayfish; Magda, take three score of the finest cucumbers, and +throw in an extra ten. Jesus Mary! Have we ever done business like +this! You will have to buy yourself a new silk kerchief, and a new +shirt for Jendrek.' + +'Our luck has come,' said Slimakowa, 'and I must certainly buy a silk +kerchief, or else no one in the village will believe that we have made +so much money.' + +'I don't quite like it that the new carriages will go without horses,' +said Slimak; 'but that can't be helped.' + +When they took their produce to the engineers' encampment, they +received fresh orders, for there were more than a dozen men, who made +him their general purveyor. Slimak went round to the neighbouring +cottages and bought what he needed, making a penny profit on every +penny he spent, while his customers praised the cheapness of the +produce. After a week the party moved further off, and Slimak found +himself in possession of twenty-five roubles that seemed to have fallen +from the sky, not counting what he had earned for the hire of his +horses and cart, and payment for the days of labour he had lost. But +somehow the money made him feel ashamed. + +'Do you know, Jagna,' he said, 'perhaps we ought to go after the +gentlemen and give them back their money.' + +'Oh nonsense!' cried the woman, 'trading is always like that. What did +the Jew charge for the chickens? just double your price.' + +'But it is the Jew's trade, and besides, he isn't a Christian.' + +'Therefore he makes the greater profits. Come, Josef, the gentlemen did +not pay for the things only, but for the trouble you took.' + +This, and the thought that everybody who came from Warsaw obviously had +much money to spend, reassured the peasant. + +As he and the rest of the family were so much occupied with their new +duties, all the harvesting fell to Maciek's share. He had to go to the +hill from early dawn till late at night, and cut, bind, and shock the +sheaves single-handed. But in spite of his industry the work took +longer than usual, and Slimak hired old Sobieska to help him. She came +at six o'clock, armed with a bottle of 'remedy' for a wound in the leg, +did the work of two while she sang songs which made even Maciek blush, +until the afternoon, and then took her 'remedy'. The cure then pulled +her down so much that the scythe fell from her hand. + +'Hey, gospodarz!' she would shout. 'You are raking in the money and +buying your wife silk handkerchiefs, but the poor farm labourers have +to creep on all fours. It's "Cut the corn, Sobieska and Maciek, and I +will brag about like a gentleman!" You will see, he will soon call +himself "Pan Slimaczinski."[1] He is the devil's own son, for ever and +ever. Amen.' + +[Footnote 1: The ending _ski_ denotes nobility.] + +She would fall into a furrow and sleep until sundown, though she was +paid for a full day's work. As she had a sharp tongue, Slimak had no +wish to offend her. When he haggled about the money, she would kiss his +hand and say: 'Why should you fall out with me, sir? Sell one chicken +more and you'll be all right.' + +'Cheek always pays!' thought Maciek. + +On the following Sunday, when everyone was ready to go to church, +Maciek sat down and sighed heavily. + +'Why, Maciek, aren't you going to church?' asked Slimak, seeing that +something was amiss. + +'How can I go to church? You would be ashamed of me.' + +'What's the matter with you?' + +'Nothing is the matter with me, but my feet keep coming through my +boots.' + +'That's your own fault, why didn't you speak before? Your wages are +due, and I will give you six roubles.' + +Maciek embraced his feet.... + +'But mind you buy the boots, and don't drink away the money.' + +They all started; Slimak walked with his wife, Magda with the boys, and +Maciek by himself at a little distance. He dreamt that Slimak would +become a gentleman when the railway was finished, and that he, Maciek, +would then wait at table, and perhaps get married. Then he crossed +himself for having such reckless ideas. How could a poor fellow like +him think of marrying? Who would have him? Probably not even Zoska, +although she was wrong in the head and had a child. + +This was a memorable Sunday for Slimak and his wife. She had bought a +silk kerchief at a stall, given twenty kopeks to the beggars, and sat +down in the front pew, where Grybina and Lukasiakowa had at once made +room for her. As for Slimak, everyone had something to say to him. The +publican reproached him for spoiling the prices for the Jews, the +organist reminded him that it would be well to pay for an extra Mass +for the souls of the departed, even the policeman saluted him, and the +priest urged him to keep bees: 'You might come round to the Vicarage, +now that you have money and spare time, and perhaps buy a few hives. It +does no harm to remember God in one's prosperity and keep bees and give +wax to the Church.' + +Gryb came up with an unpleasant smile. 'Surely, Slimak, you will treat +everybody all round to-day, since you've been so successful?' + +'You don't treat the village when you have made a good bargain, neither +shall I,' Slimak snubbed him. + +'That's not surprising, since I don't make as much profit on a cow as +you make on a chicken.' + +'All the same, you're richer than other people.' + +'There you're right,' Wisniewski supported Slimak, asking him for the +loan of a couple of roubles at the same time. But when Slimak refused, +he complained of his arrogance. + +Maciek did not get much comfort out of the money given him for boots. +He stood humbly at the back of the church, so that the Lord should not +see his torn sukmana. Then the beggars reminded him that he never gave +them anything. He went to the public-house to get change. + +'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican. + +'What money?' + +'Have you forgotten? You owe me two roubles since Christmas' + +Maciek swore at him. 'Everybody knows that one can only get a drink +from you for cash.' + +'That's true on the whole. But when you were tipsy at Christmas, you +embraced and kissed me so many times, I couldn't help myself and gave +you credit.' + +'Have you got witnesses?' Maciek said sharply. 'I tell you, old Jew, +you won't take me in.' + +The publican reflected for a moment. + +'I have no witnesses,' he said, 'therefore I will never mention the +matter to you again. Since you swear to me here in the presence of +other people, that you did not kiss me and beg for credit, I make you a +present of your debt, but it's a shame,' the publican added, spitting, +'that a man working for such a respectable gospodarz as Slimak, should +cheat a poor Jew. Don't ever set foot in my inn again!' + +The labourer hesitated. Did he really owe that money? + +'Well,' he said, 'since you say I owe you the money, I will give it +you. But take care God does not punish you if you are wronging me.' In +his heart, however, he doubted whether God would ever punish any one on +account of such a low creature as he was. + +He was just leaving the inn sadly, when a band of Galician harvesters +came in. They sat down at the table, discussing the profits that would +be made from the building of the new railway. + +Maciek went up to them, and seeing that their appearance was not much +less ragged than his own, he asked if it was true that there were +railroads[1] in the world? 'No one,' he said,'would have iron enough to +cover roads, not even the government.' The labourers laughed, but one, +a huge fellow with a soldier's cap, said: 'What is there to laugh at? +Of course a clodhopper does not know what a railway is. Sit down, +brother, and I'll tell you all about it, but let's have a bottle of +vodka.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish word for 'railway' is 'iron road'.] + +Before Maciek had decided, the publican had brought the vodka. + +'Why shouldn't he have vodka?' he said, 'he is a good-natured fellow, +he has stood treat before.' + +What happened afterwards, Maciek did not clearly remember. He thought +that some one told him how fast an engine goes, and that some one else +shouted, he ought to buy boots. Later on he was seized by his arms and +legs and carried to the stable. One thing was certain, he returned +without a penny. Slimakowa would not look at him, and Slimak said: 'You +are hopeless, Maciek, you'll never get on, for the devil always leads +you into bad company.' + +So it happened that Maciek went without new boots, but a few weeks +later he acquired a possession he had never dreamt of. + +It was a rainy September evening; the more the day declined, the +heavier became the layers of clouds. Lower and lower they descended, +torn and gloomy. Forest, hill, and valley, even the fence dissolved +gradually into the grey veil. The heavy, persistent rain penetrated +everything; the ground was full of it, soaked through like kneaded +dough; the road was full of it, running with yellow streams; the yard, +where it stood in large puddles, was full of it. Roofs and walls were +dripping, the animals' skins and even human souls were saturated with +it. + +Everybody in the gospodarstwo was thinking vaguely of supper, but no +one was in the mood for it. The gospodarz yawned, the gospodyni was +cross, the boys were sleepy, Magda did even less than usual. They +looked at the fire, where the potatoes were slowly boiling, at the +door, to watch Maciek come in, or at the window, where the raindrops +splashed, falling from the higher, the lower, and the lowest clouds, +from the thatch, from the fading leaves of the trees, and from the +window frames. When all these splashes mingled into one, they sounded +like approaching footfalls. Then the cottage door creaked. 'Maciek,' +muttered the gospodarz. But Maciek did not appear. + +A hand was groping along the passage wall. + +'What's the matter with him, has he gone blind?' impatiently exclaimed +the gospodyni, and opened the door. + +Something which was not Maciek was standing in the passage, a shapeless +figure, not tall, but bulky. It was wrapped in a soaking wet shawl. +Slimakowa stepped back for a moment, but when the firelight fell into +the passage, she discerned a human face in the opening of the shawl, +copper-coloured, with a broad nose and slanting eyes that were hardly +visible under the swollen eyelids. + +'The Lord be praised,' said a hoarse voice. + +'You, Zoska?' asked the astonished gospodyni. + +'It is I.' + +'Come in quickly, you are letting all the damp into the room.' + +The new-comer stepped forward, but stood still, irresolutely. She held +a child in her arms whose face was as white as chalk, with blue lips; +she drew out one of its arms; it looked like a stick. + +'What are you doing out in weather like this?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm going after a place.' She looked round, and decided to crouch down +on the floor, near the wall. 'They say in the village that you have a +lot of money now; I thought you might want a girl.' + +'We don't want a girl, there is not even enough for Magda to do. Why +are you out of a place?' + +'I've been harvesting in the summer, but now no one will take me in +with the child. If I were alone I could get along.' + +Maciek came in, and not being aware of Zoska's presence, started on +seeing a crouching form on the floor. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I thought Slimak might take me on, but he doesn't want me with the +child.' + +'Oh Lord!' sighed the man, moved by the sight of poverty greater than +his own. + +'Why, Maciek, that sounds as if you had a bad conscience,' said the +gospodyni disagreeably. + +'It makes one feel bad, to see such wretchedness,' he murmured. + +'The man whose fault it is would feel it most!' + +'It isn't my fault, but I'm sorry for them all the same.' + +'Why don't you take the child, then, if you are so sorry?' sneered +Slimakowa, 'you'll give him the child, Zoska, won't you? Is it a boy?' + +'A girl,' whispered Zoska, with her eyes fixed on Maciek, 'she is two +years old... yes, he can have her, if he likes.' + +'She'd be a deal of trouble to me,' muttered the labourer, 'all the +same, it's a pity.' + +'Take her,' repeated Zoska, 'Slimak is rich, you are rich....' + +'Oh yes, Maciek is rich,' laughed Slimakowa, 'he drinks through six +roubles in one Sunday.' + +'If you can drink through six roubles, you can take her,' Zoska cried +vehemently, pulling the child out of the shawl and laying it on the +floor. It looked frightened, but did not utter a sound. + +'Shut up, Jagna, and don't talk nonsense,' said Slimak. Zoska stood up +and stretched herself. + +'Now I shall be easy for once,' she said, 'I've often thought I'd like +to throw her away into a ditch, but you may as well have her. Mind you +look after her properly! If I come back and don't find her, I'll +scratch out your eyes.' + +'You are crazy,' said Slimak, 'cross yourself.' + +'I won't cross myself, I'll go away....' + +'Don't be a fool, and sit down to supper,' angrily cried the gospodyni. +She took the saucepan off so impetuously, that the hot ashes flew all +over the stove, and one touched Zoska's bare feet. + +'Fire!... fire!' she shouted, and escaped from the room, 'the cottage +is on fire, everything is on fire!' + +She staggered out like a drunken person, and they could hear her voice +farther and farther off, shouting 'Fire!' until the rain drowned it. + +'Run, Maciek, and bring her back,' cried Slimakowa. But Maciek did not +stir. + +'You can't send a man after a mad woman on a night like this,' said +Slimak. + +'Well, what am I to do with this dog's child? Do you think I shall feed +her?' + +'I dare say you won't throw her over the fence. You needn't worry, +Zoska will come back for her.' + +'I don't want her here for the night.' + +'Then what are you going to do with her?' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I'll take her to the stable,' Maciek said in a low voice, lifting the +child up awkwardly. He sat down on the bench with it and rocked it +gently on his knees. There was silence in the room. Presently Magda, +Jendrek, and Stasiek emerged from their corner and stood by Maciek, +looking at the little creature. + +'She is as thin as a lath,' whispered Magda. + +'She doesn't move or look at us,' remarked Jendrek. + +'You must feed her from a rag,' advised Magda, 'I will find you a clean +one.' + +'Sit down to supper,' ordered Slimakowa, but her voice sounded less +angry. She looked at the child, first from a distance, then she bent +over it and touched its drawn yellow skin. + +'That bitch of a mother!' she murmured, 'Magda, put a little milk in a +saucer, and you, Maciek, sit down to supper.' + +'Let Magda sit down, I'll feed her myself.' + +'Feed her!' cried Magda, 'he doesn't even know how to hold her.' She +tried to take the child from him. + +'Don't pull her to pieces,' said the gospodyni, 'pour out the milk and +let Maciek feed her, if he is so keen on it.' + +The way in which Maciek performed his task elicited much advice from +Magda. 'He has poured the milk all over her mouth...it's running on to +the floor...why do you stick the rag into her nose?' + +Although he felt that he was making a bad nurse, Maciek would not let +the child out of his hands. He hastily ate a little soup, left the +rest, and went to his night-quarters in the stable, sheltering the +child under his sukmana. When he entered, one of the horses neighed, +and the other turned his head and sniffed at the child in the darkness. + +'That's right, greet the new stable-boy who can't even hold a whip,' +laughed Maciek. + +The rain continued to fall. When Slimak looked out later on, the stable +door was shut, and he fancied he could hear Maciek snoring. + +He returned into the room. + +'Are they all right in there?' asked his wife. + +'They are asleep,' he replied, and bolted the door. + +The cocks had crowed midnight, the dog had barked his answer and +squeezed under the cart for shelter, everybody was asleep. Then the +stable door creaked, and a shadow stole out, moved along the walls and +disappeared into the cowshed. It was Maciek. He drew the whimpering +child from under his sukmana and put its mouth to the cow's udder. + +'Suck, little one,' he whispered, 'suck the cow, because your mother +has left you.' + +A few moments later smacking sounds were heard. + +And the rain continued to drip...drip...drip, monotonously. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The announcement that the railway was to be built in the spring caused +a great stir in the village. The strangers who went about buying land +from the peasants were the sole topic of conversation at the +spinning-wheels on winter evenings. One poor peasant had sold his +barren gravel hill, and had been able to purchase ten acres of the best +land with the proceeds. + +The squire and his wife had returned in December, and it was rumoured +that they were going to sell the property. The squire was playing the +American organ all day long, as usual, and only laughed when the people +timidly asked him whether there was any truth in the report. It was the +lady who had told her maid in the evening how gay the life in Warsaw +would be; an hour later the bailiff's clerk, who was the maid's +sweetheart, knew of it; early the next morning the clerk repeated it to +the bailiff and to the foreman as a great secret, and by the afternoon +all the employees and labourers were discussing the great secret. In +the evening it had reached the inn, and then rapidly spread into the +cottages and to the small town. + +The power of the little word 'Sale' was truly marvellous. + +It made the farm labourers careless in their work and the bailiff give +notice at New Year; it made the mute hard-working animals grow lean, +the sheaves disappear from the barn and the corn from the granary; it +made off with the reserve cart-wheels and harnesses, pulled the +padlocks off the buildings, took planks out of the fences, and on dark +nights it swallowed up now a chicken, now even a sheep or a small pig, +and sent the servants to the public-house every night. + +A great, a sonorous word! It sounded far and wide, and from the little +town came the trades people, presenting their bills. It was written on +the face of every man, in the sad eyes of the neglected beasts, on all +the doors and on the broken window-panes, plastered up with paper. +There were only two people who pretended not to hear it, the gentleman +who played the American organ and the lady who dreamt of going to +Warsaw. When the neighbours asked them, he shrugged his shoulders, and +she sighed and said: 'We should like to sell, it's dull living in the +country, but my father in Warsaw has not yet had an offer.' + +Slimak, who often went to work at the manor, had also heard the rumour, +but he did not believe it. When he met the squire he would look at him +and think: 'He can't help being as he is, but if such a misfortune +should befall him, I should be grieved for him. They have been settled +at the manor from father to son; half the churchyard is full of them, +they have all grown up here. Even a stone would fret if it were moved +from such a place, let alone a man. Surely, he can't be bankrupt like +other noblemen? It's well known that he has money.' + +The peasant judged his squire by himself. He did not know what it meant +to have a young wife who was bored in the country. + +While Slimak put his trust in the squire's unruffled manner, +cogitations were going on at the inn under the guidance of Josel, the +publican. + +One morning, half-way through January, old Sobieska burst into the +cottage. Although the winter sun had not yet begun to look round the +world, the old woman was flushed, and her eyes looked bloodshot. Her +lean chest was insufficiently covered by a sheepskin as old as herself +and a torn chemise. + +'Here!...give me some vodka and I'll give you a little bit of news,' +she called out. Slimak was just going off to thresh, but he sat down +again and asked his wife to bring the vodka, for he knew that the old +woman usually knew what she was talking about. + +She drank a large glassful, stamped her foot, gurgled 'Oo-ah!', wiped +her mouth and said: 'I say! the squire is going to sell everything.' + +The thought of his field crossed Slimak's mind and made his blood run +cold, but he answered calmly: 'Gossip!' + +'Gossip?' the old woman hiccoughed, 'I tell you, it's gospel truth, and +I'll tell you more: the richer gospodarze are settling with Josel and +Gryb to buy the whole estate and the whole village from the squire, so +help me God!' + +'How can they settle that without me?' + +'Because they want to keep you out. They say you will be better off as +it is, because you will be nearer to the station, and that you have +already made a lot of money by spoiling other people's business.' + +She drained another glass and would have said more, but was suddenly +overcome, and had to be carried out of the room by Slimak. + +He and his wife consulted for the rest of the day what would be the +best thing to do under the circumstances. Towards evening he put on his +new sukmana lined with sheepskin and went to the inn. + +Gryb and Lukasiak were sitting at the table. By the light of the two +tallow candles they looked like two huge boundary-stones in their grey +clothes. Josel stood behind the bar in a dirty jersey with black +stripes. He had a sharp nose, pointed beard, pointed curls, and wore a +peaked cap; there was something pointed also in his look. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak. + +'In Eternity,' Josel answered indifferently. + +'What are the gospodarze drinking?' + +'Tea,' the innkeeper replied. + +'Then I will have tea too, but let it be as black as pitch, and with +plenty of arrac.' + +'Have you come to drink tea with us?' Josel taunted him. + +'No,' said Slimak, slowly sitting down, 'I've come to find out....' + +'What old Sobieska meant,' finished the innkeeper in an undertone. + +'How about this business? is it true that you are buying land from the +squire?' asked Slimak. + +The two gospodarze exchanged glances with Josel, who smiled. After a +pause Lukasiak replied: + +'Oh, we are talking of it for want of something better to do, but who +would have the money for such a big undertaking?' + +'You two between you could buy it!' + +'Perhaps we may, but it would be for ourselves and those living in the +village.' + +'What about me?' + +'You don't take us into your confidence about your business affairs, so +mind you keep out of ours.' + +'It's not only your affair, but concerns the whole village.' + +'No, it's nobody's but mine,' snapped Gryb. + +'It's mine just as much.' + +'That is not so!' Gryb struck the table with his fist: if I don't like +a man, he shan't buy, and there's an end of it.' + +The publican smiled. Seeing that Slimak was getting pale with anger, +Lukasiak took Gryb by the arm. + +'Let us go home, neighbour,' he said. 'What is the good of talking +about things that may never come off? Come along.' + +Gryb looked at Josel and got up. + +'So you are going to buy without me?' asked Slimak. + +'You bought without us last summer.' They shook hands with the +innkeeper and took no notice of Slimak. + +Josel looked after them until their footsteps could no longer be heard, +then, still smiling, he turned to Slimak. + +'Do you see now, gospodarz, that it is a bad thing to take the bread +out of a Jew's mouth? I have lost fifty roubles through you and you +have made twenty-five, but you have bought a hundred roubles' worth of +trouble, for the whole village is against you.' + +'They really mean to buy the squire's land without me?' + +'Why shouldn't they? What do they care about your loss if they can +gain?' + +'Well...well,' muttered the peasant sadly. + +'I,' said Josel, 'might perhaps be able to arrange the affair for you, +but what should I gain by it? You have never been well disposed towards +me, and you have already done me harm.' + +'So you won't arrange it?' + +'I might, but on my own terms.' + +'What are they?' + +'First of all you will give me back the fifty roubles. Secondly, you +will build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He will keep horses and drive people to and from the station.' + +'And what am I to do with my horses?' + +'You have your land.' + +The gospodarz got up. 'Aren't you going to give me any tea?' + +'I haven't any in the house.' + +'Very well; I won't pay you fifty roubles, and I won't build a cottage +for your brother-in-law.' + +'Do as you please.' Slimak left the inn, banging the door. + +Josel turned his pointed nose and beard in his direction and smiled. + +In the darkness Slimak collided with a labourer from the manor who +carried a sack of corn on his back; presently he saw one of the servant +girls hiding a goose under her sheepskin. When she recognized him she +ran behind the fence. But Josel continued to smile. He smiled, when he +paid the labourer a rouble for the corn, including the sack; he smiled, +when the girl handed over the goose and got a bottle of sour beer in +return; he smiled, when he listened to the gospodarze discussing the +purchase of the land, and he smiled when he paid old Gryb two roubles +per cent., and took two roubles from young Gryb for every ten he lent +him. His smile no more came off his face than his dirty jersey came off +his back. + +The fire was out and the children were asleep when Slimak returned +home. + +'Well?' asked his wife, while he was undressing in the dark. + +'This is a trick of Josel's. He drives the others like a team of oxen.' + +'They won't let you in?' + +'They won't, but I shall go to the squire about the field.' + +'When are you going?' + +'To-morrow, else it may be too late.' + +To-morrow came; the day after came and went; a week passed, but Slimak +had not yet done anything. One day he said he must thresh for a corn +dealer, the other day that he had a pain inside. + +As a matter of fact, he neither threshed nor had a pain inside; but +something held him back which peasants call being afraid, gentlemen +slackness, and scholars inertia. + +He ate little, wandered round aimlessly, and often stood still in the +snow-covered field by the river, struggling with himself. Reason told +him that he ought to go to the manor and settle the matter, but another +power held him fast and whispered: 'Don't hurry, wait another day, it +will all come right somehow.' + +'Josef, why don't you go to the squire?' his wife asked day after day. + +One evening old Sobieska turned up again. She was suffering from +rheumatism, and required treatment with a 'thimbleful' of vodka which +loosened her tongue. + +'It was like this,' she began: 'Gryb and Lukasiak went with Grochowski, +all three dressed as for a Corpus Christi procession. The squire +received them in the bailiff's office, and Gryb cleared his throat and +went for it. "We have heard, sir, that you are going to sell your +family estate. Every man has a right to sell, and the other to buy. But +it would be a pity to allow the land which your forefathers possessed, +and which we peasants have cultivated, to fall into the hands of +strangers who have no associations with old times. Therefore, sir, sell +the land to us." I tell you,'Sobieska continued, 'he talked for an +hour, like the priest in the pulpit; at last Lukasiak got stiff in the +back,[1] and they all burst out crying. Then they embraced the squire's +feet, and he took their heads between his hands[2] and...' + +[Footnote 1: The peasants would stand bent all the time.] + +[Footnote 2: A nobleman, in order to show goodwill to his subordinates, +slightly presses their heads between his hands.] + +'Well, and are they buying?' Slimak interrupted impatiently. + +'Why shouldn't they buy? Certainly they are buying. They are not yet +quite agreed as to the price, for the squire wants a hundred roubles an +acre, and the peasants are offering fifty; but they cried so much, and +talked so long about good feeling between peasants and landowners that +the gospodarze will add another ten, and the squire will let them off +the rest. Josel has told them to give that much and no more, and not to +be in a hurry, then they'll be sure to drive a good bargain. He's a +damned clever Jew! Since he has taken the matter in hand, people have +flocked to the inn as if the Holy Mother were working miracles there.' + +'Is he still setting the others against me?' + +'He is not actually setting them against you, but he puts in a word now +and then that you can no longer count as a gospodarz, since you have +taken to trading. The others are even more angry with you than he is; +they can't forget that you sold chickens at just double the price you +bought them for.' + +The result of this news was that Slimak set out for the manor-house +early the next day, and returned depressed in the afternoon. A large +bowl of sauerkraut presently made him willing to discourse. + +'It was like this: I arrive at the manor, and when I look up I see that +all the windows of the large room on the ground floor are wide open. +God forbid! has some one died? I think to myself. I peep in and see +Mateus, the footman, in a white apron with brushes on his feet, skating +up and down like the boys on the ice. "The Lord be praised, Mateus, +what are you doing?" I say. "In Eternity, I am polishing the floor," +says he; "we are going to have a big dance here to-night." "Is the +squire up yet?" "He is up, but the tailor is with him; he is trying on +a Crakovian costume. My lady is going to be a gipsy." "I want him to +sell me that field," I say. Mateus says: "Don't be a fool! how can the +squire think of your field, when he is amusing himself making up as a +Crakovian." So I go away from the window and stand about near the +kitchen for a bit. They are bustling like anything, the fire is burning +like a forge, and the butter is hissing. Presently Ignaz, the kitchen +boy, comes out, covered with blood, as if he had been stuck. "Ignaz, +for God's sake, what have you been doing?" I ask. "I haven't been doing +anything; it's the cook, he's been boxing my ears with a dead duck." +"The Lord be praised it is not your blood. Tell me where I can find the +squire." "Wait here," he says, "they'll bring in the boar, and the +squire is sure to come and have a look at it." Ignaz runs off, and I +wait and wait, until the shivers run down my back. But still I wait.' + +'Well, and did you see the squire?' Slimakowa asked impatiently. + +'Of course I saw him.' + +'Did you speak to him?' + +'Rather!' + +'What did you settle?' + +'Well...ah...I told him I wanted to beg a favour of him about the +field, but he said, "Oh, leave me alone, I have no head for business +to-day."' + +'And when will you go again?' + +Slimak held up his hands: 'Perhaps to-morrow, or the day after, when +they have slept off their dance.' + +That same day Maciek drove a sledge to the forest, taking with him an +axe, a bite of food, and 'Silly Zoska's' daughter. The mother had never +asked after her, and Maciek had mothered the child; he fed her, took +her to the stable with him at night and to his work in the day-time. + +The child was so weak that it hardly ever uttered a sound. Every one, +especially Sobieska, had predicted her early death. + +'She won't last a week.'...'She'll die tomorrow.'...'She's as good as +gone already.' + +But she had lived through the week and longer, and even when she had +been taken for dead once, she opened her tired eyes to the world again. +Maciek paid no attention to these prognostications. 'Never fear,' he +said, 'nothing will happen to her.' He continued to feed her in the +cowshed after dark. + +'What makes you take trouble about that wretched child, Maciek?' +Slimakowa would say; 'if you talked to her about the Blessed Bible +itself she would take no notice; she's dreadfully stupid, I never saw +such a noodle in all my life.' + +'She doesn't talk, because she has sense,' said Maciek; 'when she +begins to talk she will be as wise as an old man.' + +That was because Maciek was in the habit of talking to her about his +work, whatever he might be doing, manuring, threshing, or patching his +clothes. + +To-day he was taking her with him to the forest, tied to the sledge, +and wrapt in the remnants of his old sheepskin and a shawl. Uphill and +downhill over the hummocks bumped the sledge, until they arrived on +level ground, where the slanting rays of the sun, endlessly reflected +from the snow-crystals, fell into their eyes. The child began to cry. + +Maciek turned her sideways, scolding: 'Now then, I told you to shut +your eyes! No man, and if he were the bishop himself, can look at the +sun; it's God's lantern. At daybreak the Lord Jesus takes it into his +hand and has a look round his gospodarstwo. In the winter, when the +frost is hard, he takes a short cut and sleeps longer. But he makes up +for it in the summer, and looks all over the world till eight o'clock +at night. That's why one should be astir from daybreak till sunset. But +you may sleep longer, little one, for you aren't much use yet. Woa!' +They entered the forest. 'Here we are! this is the forest, and it +belongs to the squire. Slimak has bought a cartload of wood, and we +must get it home before the roads are too bad. Steady, lads!' They +stopped by a square pile of wood. Maciek untied the child and put her +in a sheltered place, took out a bottle of milk and put it to her lips. +'Drink it and get strong, there will be some work for you. The logs are +heavy, and you must lift them into the sledge. You don't want the milk? +Naughty girl! Call out when you want it.... A little child like that +makes things cheerful for a man,' he reflected. 'Formerly there never +was any one to open one's mouth to, now one can talk all the time. Now +watch how the work should be done. Jendrek would pull the logs about, +and get tired in no time and stop. But mind you take them from the top, +carefully, and lift them into the sledge, one by one like this. Never +be in a hurry, little one, or else the damned wood will tire you out. +It doesn't want to go on to the sledge, for it has sense, and knows +what to expect. We all prefer our own corner of the world, even if it +is a bad one. But to you and me it's all the same, we have no corner of +our own; die here or die there, it makes no difference.' Now and then +he rested, or tucked the child up more closely. + +Meanwhile, the sky had reddened, and a strong north-west wind sprang +up, saturated with moisture. The forest, held in its winter sleep, +slowly began to move and to talk. The green pine needles trembled, then +the branches and boughs began to sway and beckon to each other. The +tops, and finally the stems rocked forward and backward, as if they +contemplated starting on a march. It was as if their eternal fixedness +grieved them, and they were setting out in a tumultuous crowd to the +ends of the world. Sometimes they became motionless near the sledge, as +though they did not wish to betray their secret to a human being. Then +the tramp of countless feet, the march past of whole columns of the +right wing, could be heard distinctly; they approached, and passed at a +distance. The left wing followed; the snow creaked under their +footsteps, they were already in a line with the sledge. The middle +column, emboldened, began to call in mighty whispers. Then they halted +angrily, stood still in their places and seemed to roar: 'Go away! go +away, and do not hinder us!' + +But Maciek was only a poor labourer, and though he was afraid of the +giants, and would gladly have made room for them, he could not leave +until he had loaded up his sledge. He did not rest now or rub his +frozen hands; he worked as fast as he could, so that the night and the +winter storms should not overtake him. + +The sky grew darker and darker with clouds; mists rose in the forests +and froze into fine crystals which instantly covered Maciek's sukmana, +the child's shawl, and the horses' manes with a crackling crust. The +logs became so slippery that his hands could scarcely hold them; the +ground was like glass. He looked anxiously towards the setting sun: it +was dangerous to return with a heavy load when the roads were in that +condition. He crossed himself, put the child into the sledge, and +whipped up the horses. Maciek stood in fear of many things, but most of +all he feared the overturning of a sledge or cart, and being crushed +underneath. + +When they were out of the wood the track became worse and worse. The +rough-hewn runners constantly sank into snow-drifts and the sledge +canted over, so that the poor man, trembling with fear and cold, had to +prop it up with all his strength. If his twisted foot gave way, there +was an end to him and the child. + +From time to time the horses stopped dead, and Maciek ceased shouting. +Then a great silence spread round him, only the distant roar of the +forest, the whistling of the wind, and the whimpering of the child +could be heard. + +'Woa!' he began again, and the horses tugged and slipped where they +stood, moved on a few steps, and stopped again. + +'To Thy protection we flee, Holy Mother of God!' he whispered, took his +axe and cut into the smooth road in front of the horses. + +It took him a long time to cover the short distance to the high road, +but when they got there, the horses refused to go on at all. The hill +in front of them was impassable. He sat down on the sledge, pondering +whether Slimak would come to his assistance, or leave him to his fate. +'He'll come for the horses; don't cry, little one, God won't forsake +us.' While he listened, it seemed to him as if the whistling of the +wind changed into the sound of bells. Was it his fancy? But the bells +never ceased; some were deep-toned and some high-toned; voices were +intermixed with them. They approached from behind like a swarm of bees +in the summer. + +'What can it be?' said Maciek, and stood up. + +Small flames shone in the distance. They disappeared among the juniper +bushes, and then flickered up again, now high, now low, coming nearer +and nearer, until a number of objects, running at full speed, could be +seen in the uncertain light of the flames. The tumult of voices +increased; Maciek heard the clattering of hoofs, the cracking of whips. + +'Heh! stop...there's a hill there!' + +'Look out! don't be crazy!' + +'Stop the sledge, I shall get out!' + +'No, go on!' + +'Jesus Mary!' + +'Have the musicians been spilt yet?' + +'Not yet, but they will be.' + +'Oh...la la!' + +Maciek now understood that this was a sleigh race. The teams of +two-and four-horsed sleighs approached at a gallop, accompanied by +riders on horseback carrying torches. In the thick mist it looked as if +the procession appeared out of an abyss through a circular gate of +fire. They bore straight down upon the spot where Maciek and his sledge +had come to a standstill. Suddenly the first one stopped. + +'Hey...what's that?' + +'Something is in the way.' + +'What is it?' + +'A peasant with a cartload of wood.' + +'Out of the way, dog. Throw him into the ditch!' + +'Shut up! We'd better move him on.' + +'That we will! We are going to move the peasant on. Out of your +sledges, gentlemen!' + +Before Maciek had recovered from his astonishment, he was surrounded by +masked men in rich costumes with plumed hats, swords, guitars, or +brooms. They seized his sledge and himself, pushed them to the top of +the hill and down the other side on to level ground. + +'Thank God!' thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this +way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows!' + +'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill,' some one shouted from +the distance. + +'Then let them get out and walk!' + +'The sledges had better not go down.' + +'Why not? Go on, Antoni!' + +'I don't advise it, sir.' + +'Then get off and be hanged! I'll drive myself!' + +Bells jingled violently, and a one-horse sledge passed Maciek like a +whirlwind. He crossed himself. + +'Drive on, Andrei!' + +'Stop, Count! It's too risky!' + +'Go on!' + +Another sledge flew past. + +'Bravo! Sporting fellow!' + +'Drive on, Jacent!' + +Two sledges were racing each other, a driver and a mask in each. The +mad race had made the road sufficiently safe for the other empty +sledges to pass with greater caution. + +'Now give your arm to the ladies! A polonaise! Musicians!' + +The outriders with torches posted themselves along the road, the +musicians tuned up, and couple after couple detached itself from the +darkness like an iridescent apparition. They hovered past to the +melancholy strains of the Oginski polonaise. + +Maciek took off his cap, drew the child from under the sheepskin and +stood beside his sledge. + +'Now look, you'll never see anything so beautiful again. Don't be +afraid!' + +An armoured and visored man passed. + +'Do you see that knight? Formerly people like that conquered half the +world, now there are none of them left.' + +A grey-bearded senator passed. + +'Look at him! People used to fear his judgment, but there are none like +him left! That one, as gaudy as a woodpecker, was a great nobleman +once; he did nothing but drink and dance; he could drain a barrel at a +bout, and he spent so much money that he had to sell his family estate, +poor wretch! There's a Uhlan; they used to fight for Napoleon and +conquer all the nations, but there are no fighters left in the world. +There's a chimney sweep and a peasant...but in reality they are all +gentlemen amusing themselves.' + +The procession passed; fainter and fainter grew the strains of the +Oginski polonaise; with shouts and laughter the masks got back into the +sleighs, hoofs clattered and whips cracked. + +Maciek started cautiously homeward in the wake of the jingling sleighs. +Distant flames were still twinkling ahead, and the wind carried faint +sounds of merriment back to him. Then all was silent. + +'Are they doing right?' he murmured, perturbed. + +For he recalled the portrait of the grey-headed senator in the choir of +the church; he had even prayed to it sometimes.... The bald-headed +nobleman was there too, whom the peasants called 'the cursed man', and +the knight in armour who was lying on his tomb beside the altar of the +Holy Martyr Apollonius. Then he remembered the friar who walked through +the Vistula, and Queen Jadwiga who had brought salt from Hungary. And +by the side of all these he saw his own old wise grandfather, Roch +Owczarz, who had been a soldier under Napoleon, and came home without a +penny, and in his old age became sacristan at the church, and explained +all the pictures to the gospodarze so beautifully that he earned more +money than the organist. + +'The Lord rest his soul eternally!' + +And now these noblemen were amusing themselves with sacred matters! +What would they do next?... + +Slimak met him when he was about a verst from the cottage. + +'We have been wondering if you had got stuck on the hill. Thank God you +are safe. Did you see the sleigh race?' + +'Oho!' said Maciek. + +'I wonder they did not smash you to pieces.' + +'Why should they? They even helped me up the hill.' + +'Dear me! And they didn't pull you about?' + +'They only pulled my cap over my ears.' + +'That is just like them; either they will smash you up, or else be +kindness itself, it just depends what temper they're in.' + +'But the way they drove down those hills made one's flesh creep. No +sober man would have come out of it alive.' + +Two sledges now overtook them; there was one traveller in the first and +two in the second. + +'Can you tell me where that sleigh party was driving to?' asked the +occupant of the first. + +'To the squire's.' + +'Indeed!... Do you know if Josel, the innkeeper, is at home?' + +'I dare say he is, unless he is off on some swindle or other.' + +'Do you know if your squire has sold his estate yet?' asked a guttural +voice from the second sledge. + +'You shouldn't ask him such a question, Fritz,' remonstrated his +companion. + +'Oh! the devil take the whole business!' replied Fritz. + +'Aha, here they are again!' said Slimak. + +'What do all those Old Testament Jews want?' asked Maciek. + +'There was only one Jew, the others are Germans from Wolka.' + +'The gentlefolks never have any peace; no sooner do they want to enjoy +themselves, than the Jews drive after them,' said Maciek. + +Indeed, the sledges conveying the travellers were now with difficulty +driving towards the valley, and presently stopped at Josel's inn. + +Barrels of burning pitch in front of the manor house threw a rosy glare +over the wintry landscape; distant sounds of music came floating on the +air. + +Josel came out and directed the Jew's sledge to the manor. The Germans +got out, and one of them shouted after the departing Jew: 'You will see +nothing will come of it; they are amusing themselves.' + +'Well, and what of that?' + +'A nobleman does not give up a dance for a business interview.' + +'Then he will sell without it.' + +'Or put you off.' + +'I have no time for that.' + +The facade of the manor-house glowed as in a bengal light; the +sleigh-bells were still tinkling in the yard, where the coachmen were +quarrelling over accommodation for their horses. Crowds of village +people were leaning against the railings to watch the dancers flit past +the windows, and to catch the strains of the music. Around all this +noise, brightness, and merriment lay the darkness of the winter night, +and from the winter night emerged slowly the sledge, carrying the +silent, meditating Jew. + +His modest conveyance stopped at the gate, and he dragged himself to +the kitchen entrance; his whole demeanour betrayed great mental and +physical tiredness. He tried to attract the attention of the cook, but +failed entirely; the kitchen-maid also turned her back on him. At last +he got hold of a boy who was hurrying across to the pantry, seized him +by the shoulders, and pressed a twenty kopek-piece into his hand. + +'You shall have another twenty kopeks if you will bring the footman.' + +'Does your honour know Mateus?' The boy scrutinized him sharply. + +'I do, bring him here.' + +Mateus appeared without delay. + +'Here is a rouble for you; ask your master if he will see me, and I +will double it.' The footman shook his head. + +'The master is sure to refuse.' + +'Tell him, it is Pan Hirschgold, on urgent business from my lady's +father. Here is another rouble, so that you do not forget the name.' + +Mateus quickly disappeared, but did not quickly return. The music +stopped, yet he did not return; a polka followed, yet he did not +return. At last he appeared: 'The master asks you to come to the +bailiff's office.' He took Pan Hirschgold into a room where several +camp-beds had been made up for the guests. The Jew took off his +expensive fur, sat down in an armchair by the fire and meditated. + +The polka had been finished, and a vigorous mazurka began. The tumult +and stamping increased from time to time; commands rang out, and were +followed by a noise which shook the house from top to bottom. The Jew +listened indifferently, and waited without impatience. + +Suddenly there was a great commotion in the passage; the door was +opened impetuously, and the squire entered. + +He was dressed as a Crakovian peasant in a red coat covered with +jingling ornaments, wide, pink-and-white-striped breeches, a red cap +with a peacock's feather, and iron-shod shoes. + +'How are you, Pan Hirschgold?' he cried good-humouredly, 'what is this +urgent message from my father-in-law?' + +'Read it, sir.' + +'What, now? I'm dancing a mazurka.' + +'And I am building a railway.' + +The squire bit his lip, and quickly ran his eye over the letter. The +noise of the dancers increased. + +'You want to buy my estate?' + +'Yes, and at once, sir.' + +'But you see that I am giving a dance.' + +'The colonists are waiting to come in, sir. If you cannot settle with +me before midnight, I shall settle with your neighbour. He gains, and +you lose.' + +The squire was becoming feverish. + +'My father-in-law recommends you highly...all the same,...on the spur +of the moment....' + +'You need only write a word or two.' + +The squire dashed his red cap down on the table. 'Really, Pan +Hirschgold, this is unbearable!' + +'It's not my fault; I should like to oblige you, but business is +pressing.' + +There was another hubbub in the passage, and the Uhlan burst into the +room, 'For heaven's sake, what are you doing, Wladek?' + +'Urgent business.' + +'But your lady is waiting for you!' + +'Do arrange for some one to take my place; I tell you, it's urgent.' + +'I don't know how the lady will take it!' cried the retreating Uhlan. + +The powerful bass voice of the leader of the mazurka rang out: 'Ladies' +ronde!' + +'How much will you give me?' hastily began the squire. 'Rather an +original situation!' he unexpectedly added, with humour. + +'Seventy-five roubles an acre. This is my highest offer. To-morrow I +should only give sixty-seven.' + +'En avant!' from the ball-room. + +'Never!' cried the squire, 'I should prefer to sell to the peasants.' + +'And get fifty, or at the outside sixty.' + +'Or go on managing the estate myself.' + +'You are doing that now...what is the result?' + +'What do you mean?' said the squire irritably, 'it's excellent +soil....' + +'I know all about the property,' interrupted the Jew, 'from the bailiff +who left at New Year.' + +The squire became angry. 'I can sell to the colonists myself.' + +'They may give sixty-seven, but meanwhile my lady is dying of boredom.' + +'Chaine to the left!' + +The squire became desperate. 'God, what am I to do?' + +'Sign the agreement. Your father-in-law advises you to do so, and tells +you that I shall pay the highest price.' + +'Partagez!' + +Again the Uhlan violently burst into the room. + +'Wladek, you really must come; the Count is mortally offended, and says +he will take his fiancee away.' + +'Oh, confound it! Pan Hirschgold, write the agreement at once, I will +be back directly.' + +Unmindful of the gaiety of the dance, the Jew calmly took an inkpot, +pen, and paper out of his bag, wrote a dozen lines, and sat down, +waiting for the noise to subside. + +A quarter of an hour later the squire returned in the best of spirits. + +'Ready?' he asked cheerfully. + +'Ready.' + +The squire read the paper, signed, and said with a smile: + +'What, do you think is the value of this agreement?' + +'Perhaps the legal value is not great, but it has some value for your +father-in-law, and he...well, he is a rich man!' + +He blew on the signature, folded up the paper, and asked with a shade +of irony: 'Well, and the Count?' + +'Oh, he is pacified.' + +'He will want more pacifying presently, when his creditors become +annoying. I wish you a pleasant night, sir.' + +No sooner had the squire left the room, than Mateus, the footman, +appeared, as if the ground had produced him. He helped the Jew into his +coat. + +'Did you buy the estate, sir?' + +'Why shouldn't I? It's not the first, nor will it be the last.' + +He gave the footman three roubles. Mateus bowed to the ground and +offered to call his sledge. + +'Oh no, thank you,' said the Jew, 'I have left my own sledge in Warsaw, +and I am not anxious to parade this wretched conveyance.' + +Nevertheless, Mateus attended him deferentially into the yard. + +In the ballroom polkas, valses, and mazurkas followed each other +endlessly until the pale dawn appeared, and the cottage fires were lit. + +Slimak rose with the winter sun, and whispering a prayer, walked out of +the gate. He looked at the sky, then towards the manor-house, wondering +how long the merrymaking was going to last. + +The sky was blue, the first sun rays were bathing the snow in rose +colour, and the clouds in purple. Slimak drew a deep breath, and felt +that it was better to be out in the fresh air than indoors, dancing. + +'Making themselves tired without need,' he thought, 'when they might be +sleeping to their hearts' content!' Then he resumed his prayer. His +attention was attracted by voices, and he saw two men in navy blue +overcoats. When they caught sight of him, one asked at once: + +'That is your hill, gospodarz, isn't it?' + +Slimak looked at them in surprise. + +'Why do you keep on asking me about my property? I told you last summer +that the hill was mine.' + +'Then sell it to us,' said the man with the beard. + +'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man. + +'Oh bother! are you going to gossip again, father?' + +'Look here, gospodarz,' said the father, 'we have bought the squire's +estate. Now we want this; hill, because we want to build a +windmill....' + +'Gracious!' exclaimed the son disagreeably, 'have you lost your senses, +father? Listen! we want that land!' + +'My land?' the peasant repeated in amazement, looking about him, 'my +land?' + +He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'What right have +you gentlemen to my land?' + +'We have got money.' + +'Money?...I!...Sell my land for money? We have been settled here from +father to son; we were here at the time of the scourge of serfdom, and +even then we used to call the land "ours". My father got it for his own +by decree from the Emperor Alexander II; the Land Commission settled +all that, and we have the proper documents with signatures attached. +How can you say now that you want to buy my land?' + +The younger man had turned away indifferently during Slimak's long +speech and whistled, the older man shook his fist impatiently. + +'But we want to buy it...pay for it...cash! Sixty roubles an acre.' + +'And I wouldn't sell it for a hundred,' said Slimak. + +'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out +laughing. + +'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand +that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?' + +'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we +should pay you.' + +'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it +yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed. + +'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you +from morning till night.' + +The old man took Slimak's hand. + +'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not +like heathens. We praise the same God, why should we not agree? You +see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to +have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow +steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age. +That hill is nothing to you.' + +'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.' + +'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.' + +'Well, and I won't sell it!' + +The old man made a wry face, as if he were ready to cry. He drew the +peasant a few steps aside, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: +'Why are you so hard on me, gospodarz? You see, my sons don't hit it +off with each other. The elder is a farmer, and I want to set up the +younger as a miller and have him near me. I haven't long to live, I am +eighty years old, don't quarrel with me.' + +'Can't you buy land elsewhere?' + +'Not very well. We are a whole community settling together; it would +take a long time to make other arrangements. My son Wilhelm does not +like farming, and unless I buy him a windmill he will starve or go away +from me. I am an old man, sell me your land! Listen,' he whispered, 'I +will give you seventy-five roubles an acre. God is my witness, I am +offering you more than the land is worth. But you will let me have it, +won't you? You are an honest man and a Christian.' + +Slimak looked with astonishment and pity at the old man, from whose +inflamed eyes the tears were pouring down. + +'You can't have much sense, sir, to ask me such a thing,' he said. +'Would you ask a man to cut off his hand? What could a peasant do +without his land?' + +'You could buy twice as much. I will help you to find it.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are talking as a man talks when he digs up +a shrub in the woods. "Come," he says, "you shall be near my cottage!" +The shrub comes because it must, but it soon dies.' + +The man with the beard approached and spoke to his father in German. + +'So you won't sell me your land?' said the old man. + +'I won't.' + +'Not for seventy-five roubles?' + +'No.' + +'And I tell you, you will sell it,' cried the younger man, drawing his +father away. They went towards the bridge, talking German loudly. + +The peasant rested his chin on his hand and looked after them; then his +eyes fell on the manor-house, and he returned to the cottage at full +speed. 'Jagna,' he cried, 'do you know that the squire has sold his +estate?' The gospodyni crossed herself with a spoon. + +'In the name of the Father...Are you mad, Josef? Who told you so?' + +'Two Germans spoke to me just now; they told me. And, Jagna, they want +to buy our land, our own land!' + +'You are off your head altogether!' cried the woman. 'Jendrek, go and +see if there are any Germans about; your father is talking nonsense.' + +Jendrek returned with the information that he had seen two men in blue +overcoats the other side of the bridge. + +Slimak sat on the bench, his head drooping, his hands resting limply on +his knees. The morning light had turned grey, and made men and objects +look dull. The gospodyni suddenly looked attentively at her husband. + +'Why are you so pale?' she asked. 'What is the matter?' + +'What is the matter? A nice question for a clever woman to ask! Don't +you understand that the Germans will take the field away from us if the +squire has sold it to them?' + +'Why should they? We could pay the rent to them.' + +The woman tried to talk confidently, but her voice was unsteady. + +'You don't know what you're talking about! Germans keep cattle and are +sharp after grazing land. Besides, they will want to get rid of me.' + +'We shall see who gets rid of whom!' Slimakowa said sharply. + +She came and stood in front of her husband, with her arms akimbo, +gradually raising her voice. + +'Lord, what a man! He has only just looked at the Swabian[1] vermin, +and he has lost heart already. They will take away the field? Well, +what of that? we will drive the cattle into it all the same.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish peasants call all Germans 'Swabians'.] + +'They will shoot the cattle.' + +'That isn't allowed.' + +'Then they will go to law and worry the life out of me.' + +'Very well, then we will buy fodder.' + +'Where? The gospodarze won't sell us any, and we shan't get a blade +from the Germans.' + +The breakfast was boiling over, but the housewife paid no attention to +it. She shook her clenched fists at her husband. + +'What do you mean, Josef! Pull yourself together! This is bad, and that +is no good!...What will you do then? You are taking the courage away +from me, a woman, instead of making up your mind what to do. Aren't you +ashamed before the children and Magda to sit there like a dying man, +rolling your eyes? Do you think I shall let the children starve for the +sake of your Germans, or do you think I shall get rid of the cow? Don't +imagine that I shall allow you to sell your land! No fear! If I fall +down dead and they bury me, I shall dig myself out again and prevent +you from doing the children harm! Why are you sitting there, looking at +me like a sheep? Eat your breakfast and go to the manor. Find out if +the squire has really sold his land, and if he hasn't, fall at his +feet, and lie there till he lets you have the field, even if you have +to pay sixty roubles.' + +'And if he has sold it?' + +'If he has sold it, may God punish him!' + +'That won't give us the field.' + +'You are a fool!' she cried. 'We and the children and the cattle have +lived by God's grace and not by the squire's.' + +'That's so,' said Slimak, suddenly getting up. 'Give me my breakfast. +What are you crying for?' + +After her passionate outburst Slimakowa had actually broken down. + +'How am I not to cry,' she sobbed, 'when the merciful God has punished +me with such an idiot of a husband? He will do nothing himself and +takes away my courage into the bargain.' + +'Don't be a fool,' he said, with his face clouding. 'I'll go to the +squire at once, even if I should have to give sixty roubles.' + +'But if the field is sold?' + +'Hang him, we have lived by the grace of God and not by his.' + +'Then where will you get fodder?' + +'Look after your pots and pans, and don't meddle with a man's affairs.' + +'The Germans will drive you away.' + +'The deuce they will!' He struck the table with his fist. 'If I were to +fall down dead, if they chopped me into little pieces, I wouldn't let +the dogs have my land. Give me my breakfast, or I'll ask you the reason +why!...And you, Jendrek, be off with Maciek, or I shall get the strap!' + +The sun shone into the ballroom of the manorhouse through every chink +and opening; streaks of white light lay on the floor, which was dented +by the dancers' heels, and on the walls; the rays were reflected in the +mirrors, rested on the gilt cornices and on the polished furniture. In +comparison with them the light of the candles and lamps looked yellow +and turbid. The ladies were pale and had blue circles round their eyes, +the powder was falling from their dishevelled hair, their dresses were +crumpled, and here and there in holes. The padding showed under the +imitation gold of the braids and belts of notables; rich velvets had +turned into cheap velveteens, beaver fur to rabbit skins, and silver +armour to tin. The musicians' hands dropped, the dancers' legs had +grown stiff. Intoxication had cooled and given place to heaviness; lips +were breathing feverishly. Only three couples were now turning in the +middle of the room, then two, then none. There was a lack of arm-chairs +for the men; the ladies hid their yawns behind their fans. At last the +music ceased, and as no one said anything, a dead silence spread +through the room. Candles began to splutter and went out, lamps smoked. + +'Shall we go in to tea?' asked the squire, in a hoarse voice. + +'To bed...to bed,' whispered the guests. + +'The bedrooms are ready,' he said, trying to sound cheerful, in spite +of sleepiness and a cold. + +The ladies immediately got up, threw their wraps over their shoulders +and left the room, turning their faces away from the windows. + +Soon the ballroom was empty, save for the old cellist, who had gone to +sleep with his arms round his instrument. The bustle was transferred to +distant rooms; there was much stamping upstairs and noise of men's +voices in the courtyard. Then all became silent. + +The squire came clinking along the passages, looked dully round the +ballroom, and said, yawning: 'Put out the lights, Mateus, and open the +windows. Where is my lady?' + +'My lady has gone to her room.' + +My lady, in her orange-velvet gipsy costume and a diamond hoop in her +hair, was lying in an arm-chair, her head thrown back. The squire +dropped into another arm-chair, yawning broadly. + +'Well, it was a great success.' + +'Splendid,' yawned my lady. + +'Our guests ought to be satisfied.' After a while he spoke again. + +'Do you know that I have sold the estate?' + +'To whom?' + +'To Hirschgold; he is giving me seventy-five roubles an acre.' + +'Thank God we shall get away at last.' + +'Well, you might come and give me a kiss!' + +'I'm much too tired. Come here, if you want one.' + +'I deserve that you should come here. I've done exceedingly well.' + +'No, I won't. Hirschgold...Hirschgold...oh yes, some acquaintance of +father's. The first mazurka was splendid, wasn't it?' + +The squire was snoring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The squire and his wife left for Warsaw a week after the ball. Their +place was taken by Hirschgold's agent, a freckle-faced Jew, who +installed himself in a small room in the bailiffs house, spent his days +in looking through and sending out accounts, and bolted the door and +slept with two revolvers under his pillow at night. + +The squire had taken part of the furniture with him, the rest of the +suites and fixtures were sold to the neighbouring gentry; the Jews +bought up the library by the pound, the priest acquired the American +organ, the garden-seats passed into Gryb's ownership, and for three +roubles the peasant Orzchewski became possessed of the large engraving +of Leda and the Swan, to which the purchaser and his family said their +prayers. The inlaid floors henceforward decorated the magisterial +court, and the damask hangings were bought by the tailors and made into +bodices for the village girls. + +When Slimak went a few weeks later to have a look at the manor-house he +could not believe his eyes at the sight of the destruction that had +taken place. There were no panes in the windows and not a single latch +left on the wide-open doors; the walls had been stripped and the floors +taken up. The drawing-room was a dungheap, Pani Joselawa, the +innkeeper's wife, had put up hencoops there and in the adjoining rooms; +axes and saws were lying about everywhere. The farmhands, who according +to agreement were kept on till midsummer, strolled idly from corner to +corner; one of the teamdrivers had taken desperately to drink; the +housekeeper was ill with fever, and the pantryboy, as well as one of +the farm-boys, were in prison for stealing latches off the doors. + +'Good God!' said the peasant. + +He was seized with fear at the thought of the unknown power which had +ruined the ancient manor-house in a moment. An invisible cloud seemed +to be hanging over the valley and the village; the first flash of +lightning had struck and completely shattered the seat of its owners. + +Some days later the neighbourhood began to swarm with strangers, +woodcutters and sawyers, mostly Germans. They walked and drove in +crowds along the road past Slimak's cottage; sometimes they marched in +detachments like soldiers. They were quartered at the manor, where they +turned out the servants and the remaining cattle: they occupied every +corner. At night they lit great fires in the courtyard, and in the +morning they all walked off to the woods. At first it was difficult to +guess what they were doing. Soon, however, there was a distant echo as +of someone drumming with his fingers on the table; at last the sound of +the axe and the thud of falling trees was heard quite plainly. Fresh +inroads on the wavy contour of the forest appeared continually; first +crevices, then windows, then wide openings, and for the first time +since the world was the world, the astonished sky looked into the +valley from that side. + +The wood fell: only the sky remained and the earth with a few juniper +bushes and countless rows of tree-trunks, hastily stripped of their +branches. The rapacious axe had not spared one of the leafy tribe. Not +one--not even the centenarian oak which had been touched by lightning +more than once. Gazing upwards, this defier of storms had hardly +noticed the worms turning round its feet, and the blows of their axes +meant no more to it than the tapping of the woodpecker. It fell +suddenly, convinced at the last that the world was insecure after all, +and not worth living in. + +There was another oak, half withered, on the branches of which the +unfortunate Simon Golamb[1] had hanged himself; the people passed it in +fear. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling: _Gotab_.] + +'Flee!' it murmured, when the woodcutters approached. 'I bring you +death; only one man dared to touch my branches, and he died.' But the +woodcutters paid no heed, deeper and deeper they sent the sharp axe +into its heart, and with a roar it swayed and fell. + +The night-wind moaned over the corpses of the strong trees, and the +birds and wild creatures, deprived of their native habitations, +mourned. + +Older still than the oaks were the huge boulders thickly sown over the +fields. The peasants had never touched them; they were too heavy to be +removed; moreover, there was a superstition that the rebellious devils +had in the first days of the creation thrown these stones at the +angels, and that it was unlucky to touch them. Overgrown with moss they +each lay in an island of green grass; the shepherds lit their fires +beneath them on chilly nights, the ploughmen lay down in their shade on +a hot afternoon, the hawker would sometimes hide his treasures +underneath them. + +Now their last hour had struck too; men began to busy themselves about +them. At first the village people thought that the 'Swabians' were +looking for treasure; but Jendrek found out that they were boring holes +in the venerable stones. + +'What are the idiots doing that for?' asked Slimakowa. 'Blessed if I +know what's the good of that to them!' + +'I know, neighbour,' said old Sobieska, blinking her eyes; 'they are +boring because they have heard that there are toads inside those big +stones.' + +'And what if there are?' + +'You see, they want to know if it's true.' + +'But what's that to them?' + +'I'll be hanged if I know!' retorted Sobieska in such a decided tone +that Slimakowa considered the matter as settled. + +The Germans, however, were not looking for toads. Before long such a +cannonading began that the echoes reached the farthest ends of the +valley, telling every one that not even the rocks were able to +withstand the Germans. + +'Those Swabians are a hard race,' muttered Slimak, as he gazed on the +giants that had been dashed to pieces. He thought of the colonists for +whom the property had been bought, and who now wanted his land as well. + +'They are not anywhere about,' he thought; 'perhaps they won't come +after all.' + +But they came. + +One morning, early in April, Slimak went out before sunrise as usual to +say his prayers in the open. The east was flushed with pink, the stars +were paling, only the morning star shone like a jewel, and was welcomed +from below by the awakening birds. + +The peasant's lips moved in prayer, while he fixed his eyes on the +white mist which covered the ground like snow. Then it was that he +heard a distant sound from beyond the hills, a rumble of carts and the +voices of many people. He quickly walked up the lonely pine hill and +perceived a long procession of carts covered with awnings, filled with +human beings and their domestic and agricultural implements. Men in +navy-blue coats and straw hats were walking beside them, cows were tied +behind, and small herds of pigs were scrambling in and out of the +procession. A little cart, scarcely larger than a child's, brought up +the rear; it was drawn by a dog and a woman, and conveyed a man whose +feet were dangling down in front. + +'The Swabians are coming!' flashed through Slimak's mind, but he put +the thought away from him. + +'Maybe they are gipsies,' he argued. But no--they were not dressed like +gipsies, and woodcutters don't take cattle about with them--then who +were they? + +He shrank from the thought that the colonists were actually coming. + +'Maybe it's they, maybe not...' he whispered. + +For a moment a hill concealed them from his view, and he hoped that the +vision had dissolved into the light of day. But there they were again, +and each step of their lean horses brought them nearer. The sun was +gilding the hill which they were ascending, and the larks were singing +brightly to welcome them. + +Across the valley the church bell was ringing. Was it calling to +prayers as usual, or did it warn the people of the invasion of a +foreign power? + +Slimak looked towards the village. The cottage-doors were closed, no +one was astir, and even if he had shouted aloud, 'Look, gospodarze, the +Germans are here!' no one would have been alarmed. + +The string of noisy people now began to file past Slimak's cottage. The +tired horses were walking slowly, the cows could scarcely lift their +feet, the pigs squeaked and stumbled. But the people were happy, +laughing and shouting from cart to cart. They turned round by the +bridge on to the open ground. + +The small cart in the rear had now reached Slimak's gate; the big dog +fell down panting, the man raised himself to a sitting position and the +girl took the strap from her shoulder and wiped her perspiring +forehead. Slimak was seized with pity for them; he came down from the +hill and approached the travellers. + +'Where do you all come from? Who are you?' he asked. + +'We are colonists from beyond the Vistula,' the girl answered. 'Our +people have bought land here, and we have come with them.' + +'But have not you bought land also?' + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +'Is it the custom with you for the women to drag the men about?' + +'What can we do? we have no horses and my father cannot walk on his own +feet.' + +'Is your father lame?' + +'Yes.' + +The peasant reflected for a moment. + +'Then he is hanging on to the others, as it were?' + +'Oh no,' replied the girl with much spirit, 'father teaches the +children and I take in sewing, and when there is no sewing to do I work +in the fields.' + +Slimak looked at her with surprise and said, after a pause: 'You can't +be German, you talk our language very well.' + +'We are from Germany.' + +'Yes, we are Germans,' said the man in the cart, speaking for the first +time. + +Slimakowa and Jendrek now came out of the cottage and joined the group +at the gate. + +'What a strong dog!' cried Jendrek. + +'Look here,' said Slimak, 'this lady has dragged her lame father a long +way in the cart; would you do that, you scamp?' + +'Why should I? Haven't they any horses, dad?' + +'We have had horses,' murmured the man in the cart, 'but we haven't any +now.' + +He was pale and thin, with red hair and beard. + +'Wouldn't you like to rest and have something to eat after your long +journey?' inquired Slimak. + +'I don't want anything to eat, but my father would like some milk.' + +'Run and get some milk, Jendrek,' cried Slimak. + +'Meaning no offence,' said Slimakowa, 'but you Germans can't have a +country of your own, or else you wouldn't come here.' + +'This is our home,' the girl replied. 'I was born in this country, the +other side of the Vistula.' + +Her father made an impatient movement and said in a broken voice: 'We +Germans have a country of our own, larger than yours, but it's not +pleasant to live in: too many people, too little land; it's difficult +to make a living, and we have to pay heavy taxes and do hard military +service, and there are penalties for everything.' + +He coughed and continued after a pause: 'Everybody wants to be +comfortable and live as he pleases, and not as others tell him. It's +not pleasant to live in our country, so we've come here.' + +Jendrek brought the milk and offered it to the girl, who gave it to her +father. + +'God repay you!' sighed the invalid; 'the people in this country are +kind.' + +'I wish you would not do us harm,' said Slimakowa in a half-whisper. + +'Why should we do you harm?' said the man. 'Do we take your land? do we +steal? do we murder you? We are quiet people, we get in nobody's way so +long as nobody gets...' + +'You have bought the land here,' Slimak interrupted. + +'But why did your squire sell it to us? If thirty peasants had been +settled here instead of one man, who did nothing but squander his +money, our people would not have come. Why did not you yourselves form +a community and buy the village? Your money would have been as good as +ours. You have been settled here for ages, but the colonists had to +come in before you troubled about the land, and then no sooner have +they bought it than they become a stumbling-block to you! Why wasn't +the squire a stumbling-block to you?' + +Breathless, he paused and looked at his wasted arms, then continued: +'To whom is it that the colonists resell their land? To you peasants! +On the other side of the Vistula[1] the peasants bought up every scrap +of our land.' + +[Footnote 1: i.e. in Prussian Poland. One of the Polish people's +grievances is that the large properties are not sold direct to them but +to the colonists, and the peasants have to buy the land from them. +Statistics show that in spite of the great activity of the German +Colonization Commission more and more land is constantly acquired by +the Polish peasants, who hold on to the land tenaciously.] + +'One of your lot is always after me to sell him my land,' said Slimak. + +'To think of such a thing!' interposed his wife. 'Who is he?' + +'How should I know? there are two of them, and they came twice, an old +man and one with a beard. They want my hill to put up a windmill, they +say.' + +'That's Hamer,' said the girl under her breath to her father. + +'Oh, Hamer,' repeated the invalid, 'he has caused us difficulties +enough. Our people wanted to go to the other side of the Bug, where +land only costs thirty roubles an acre, but he persuaded them to come +here, because they are building a railway across the valley. So our +people have been buying land here at seventy roubles an acre and have +been running into debt with the Jew, and we shall see what comes of +it.' + +The girl meanwhile had been eating coarse bread, sharing it with the +dog. She now looked across to where the colonists were spreading +themselves over the fields. + +'We must go, father,' she said. + +'Yes, we must go; what do I owe you for the milk, gospodarz?' + +The peasant shrugged his shoulders. + +'If we were obliged to take money for a little thing like that, I +shouldn't have asked you.' + +'Well, God repay you!' + +'God speed you,' said Slimak and his wife. + +'Strange folk, those Germans,' he said, when they had slowly moved off. +'He is a clever man, yet he goes about in that little cart like an old +beggar.' + +'And the girl!' said Slimakowa, 'whoever heard of dragging an old man +about, as if you were a horse.' + +'They're not bad,' said Slimak, returning to his cottage. + +The conversation with the Germans had reassured him that they were not +as terrible as he had fancied. + +When Maciek went out after breakfast to plough the potato-fields, +Slimak slipped off. + +'You've got to put up the fence!' his wife called out after him. + +'That won't run away,' he answered, and banged the door, fearful lest +his wife should detain him. + +He crouched as he ran through the yard, wishing to attract her +attention as little as possible, and went stealthily up the hill to +where Maciek was perspiring over his ploughing. + +'How about those Swabians?' asked the labourer. + +Slimak sat down on the slope so that he could not be seen from the +cottage, and pulled out his pipe. + +'You might sit over there,' Maciek said, pointing with his whip to a +raised place; 'then I could smell the smoke.' + +'What's the good of the smoke to you? I'll give you my pipe to finish, +and meanwhile it does not grieve the old woman to see me sitting here +wasting my time.' He lit his pipe very deliberately, rested his elbows +on his knees and his head in his hands and looked into the valley, +watching the crowd of Germans. + +With their covered carts they had enclosed a square into which they had +driven their cattle and horses; inside and outside of this the people +were bustling about. Some put a portable manger on a stand and fed the +cows, others ran to the river with buckets. The women brought out their +saucepans and little sacks of vegetables and a crowd of children ran +down the ravine for fuel. + +'What crowds of children they have!' said Slimak; 'we have not as many +in the whole village.' + +'Thick as lice,' said Maciek. + +Slimak could not wonder enough. Yesterday the field had been empty and +quiet, to-day it was like a fair. People by the river, people in the +ravines, people on the fields, who chop the bushes, carry wood, make +fires, feed and water the animals! One man had already opened a +retail-shop on a cart and was obviously doing good business. The women +were pressing round him, buying salt, sugar, vinegar. Some young +mothers had made cradles of shawls, suspended on short pitchforks, and +while they were cooking with one hand they rocked the cradle with the +other. There was a veterinary surgeon, too, who examined the foot of a +lame horse, and a barber was shaving an old Swabian on the step of his +cart. + +'Do you notice how quickly they work? It's farther for them to fetch +the firewood than for us, yet we take half the day over it and they do +it before you can say two prayers.' + +'Oh! oh!' said Maciek, who seemed to feel this remark as an aspersion. + +'But, then, they work together, 'continued Slimak; 'when our people go +out in a crowd every one attends to his own business, and rests when he +likes or gets into the way of the others. But these dogs work together +as if they were used to each other; if one of them were to lie down on +the ground the others would cram work into his hand and stand over him +till he had finished it. Watch them yourself.' + +He gave his pipe to Maciek and returned to the cottage. + +'They are quick folk, those Swabians,' he muttered, 'and clever!' +Within half an hour he had discovered the two secrets of modern work: +organization and speed. + +About noon two colonists came to the gospodarstwo and asked Slimak to +sell them butter and potatoes and hay. He let them have the former +without bargaining, but he refused the hay. + +'Let us at least have a cartload of straw,' they asked with their +foreign accent. + +'I won't. I haven't got any.' + +The men got angry. + +'That scoundrel Hamer is giving us no end of trouble,' one cried, +dashing his cap on the ground; 'he told us we should get fodder and +everything at the farms. We can't get any at the manor either; the Jews +from the inn are there and won't stir from the place.' + +Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two +Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists +rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating +wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in +their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order. + +The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and +attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had +finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last +they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and +departed cheerfully. + +'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we +come to terms yet?' + +'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to +us of his own accord!' + +'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set +on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after +the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't +stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same +and to smooth things over.' + +'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?' +returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take +your land away from you.... I can't make you out!' + +'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob +me.' + +'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.' + +'That's God's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but +when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the +woodpeckers on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The +squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the +Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree +is still the tree.' + +The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her +demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'. + +'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you +the news.' + +She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on +his finger. + +'Oh, Lord!' she cried, when she had drained it, 'this is the judgment +day for some people in the village! You see, Gryb and Orzchewski had +always taken for granted that the colonists wouldn't come, and they had +meant to drive a little bargain between them and keep some of the best +land and settle Jasiek Gryb on it like a nobleman, and he was to marry +Orzchewski's Paulinka. You know, she had learnt embroidery from the +squire's wife, and Jasiek had been doing work in the bailiff's office +and now goes about in an overcoat on high-days and holidays and...give +me another thimbleful, or I shall feel faint and can't talk.... +Meanwhile, as I told you, the colonists had paid down half the money to +the Jew, and here they are, that's certain! When Gryb hears of it, he +comes and abuses Josel! "You cur of a Jew, you Caiaphas, you have +crucified Christ and now you are cheating me! You told me the Germans +wouldn't pay up, and here they are!" Whereupon Josel says: "We don't +know yet whether they will stay!" At first Gryb wouldn't listen and +shouted and banged his fists on the table, but at last Josel drew him +off to his room with Orzchewski, and they made some arrangement among +themselves.' + +'He's a fool,' said Slimak; 'he wasn't cute enough to buy the land, he +won't be able to cope with the Germans.' + +'Not cute enough?' cried the old woman. 'Give me a thimbleful...Josel's +clever enough, anyway...and his brother-in-law is even better...they'll +deal with the Swabians...I know what I know...give me a +thimbleful...give me a thim...' She became incoherent. + +'What was that she was saying?' asked Slimakowa. + +'The usual things she says when she's tipsy. She is in service with +Josel, so she thinks him almighty.' + +When night came, Slimak again went to look at the camp. The people had +retired under their awnings, the cattle were lying down inside the +square, only the horses were grazing in the fields and ravines. At +times a flame from the camp fires flared up, or a horse neighed; from +hour to hour the call of a sleepy watchman was heard. + +Slimak returned and threw himself on his bed, but could find no rest. +The darkness deprived him of energy, and he thought with fear of the +Germans who were so many and he but one. Might they not attack him or +set his house on fire? + +About midnight a shot rang out, followed by another. He ran into the +back-yard and came upon the equally frightened Maciek. Shouts, curses, +and the clatter of horses' hoofs came from beyond the river. Gradually +the noise subsided. + +Slimak learned in the morning from the colonists that horse-thieves had +stolen in among the horses. + +The peasant was taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in +the neighbourhood. + +The news of the attack spread like wildfire and was improved upon in +every village. It was said that there was a gang of horse-stealers +about, who removed the horses to Prussia; that the Germans had fought +with them all night, and that some had been killed. + +At last these rumours reached the ears of the police-sergeant, who +harnessed his fat mare, put a small cask and some empty bags into his +cart, and drove off in pursuit of the thieves. + +The Germans treated him to smoked ham and excellent brandy, and Fritz +Hamer explained that they suspected two discharged manor-servants, Kuba +Sukiennik and Jasiek Eogacz, of stealing the horses. + +'They have been arrested before for stealing locks off the doors, but +had to be released because there were no witnesses,' said the sergeant. +'Which of the gentlemen shot at them? Has he a licence to carry +firearms?' + +Hamer, seeing that the question was becoming ticklish, led him aside +and explained things so satisfactorily to him that he soon drove off, +recommending that watch should be kept, and that the colonists should +not carry firearms. + +'I suppose your farm will soon be standing, sir?' he asked. + +'In a month's time,' replied Hamer. + +'Capital!...we must make a day of it!' + +He drove on to the manor-house, where Hirschgold's agent was so +delighted to see him that he brought out a bottle of Crimean wine. On +the topic of thieves, however, he had no explanation to offer. + +'When I heard them shooting I at once snatched up my revolvers, one in +each hand, and I didn't close my eyes all night.' + +'And have you a licence to carry firearms?' + +'Why shouldn't I?' + +'For two?' + +'Oh well, the second is broken; I only keep it for show.' + +'How many workmen do you employ?' + +'About a hundred.' + +'Are all their passports in order?' + +The agent gave him a most satisfactory account as to this in his own +way and the sergeant took leave. + +'Be careful, sir,' he recommended, 'once robbery begins in the village +it will be difficult to stop it. And in case of accident you will do +well to let me know first before you do anything.' He said this so +impressively that the agent henceforward took the two Jews from the +manor-house to sleep in the bailiff's cottage. + +Slimak's gospodarstwo was the sergeant's next destination. Slimakowa +was just pouring out the peeled-barley soup when the stout +administrator of the law entered. + +'The Lord be praised,' he said. 'What news?' + +'In Eternity. We are all right.' + +The sergeant looked round. + +'Is your husband at home?' + +'Where else should he be? Fetch your father, Jendrek.' + +'Beautiful barley; is it your own?' + +'Of course it is.' + +'You might give me a sackful. I'll pay you next time I come.' + +'I'll get the bag at once, sir.' + +'Perhaps you can sell me a chicken as well?' + +'We can.' + +'Mind it's tender, and put it under the box.' + +Slimak came in. 'Have you heard, gospodarz, who it was that tried to +steal the horses?' + +'How should I know?' + +'They say in the village that it was Sukiennik and Rogacz.' + +'I don't know about that. I have heard they cannot find work here, +because they have been in prison.' + +'Have you got any vodka? The dust makes one's throat dry.' + +Vodka and bread and cheese were brought. + +'You'd better be careful,' he said, when he departed, 'for they will +either rob you or suspect you.' + +'By God's grace no one has ever robbed me, and it will never happen.' + +The sergeant went to Josel, who received him enthusiastically. He +invited him into the parlour and assured him that all his licences were +in order. + +'There is no signboard at the gate.' + +'I'll put one up at once of whatever kind you like,' said the innkeeper +obsequiously, and ordered a bottle of porter. + +The sergeant now opened the question of the night-attack. + +'What night-attack?' jeered Josel. 'The Germans shot at one another and +then got frightened and made out that there was a gang of robbers +about. Such things don't happen here.' + +The sergeant wiped his moustache. 'All the same Sukiennik and Rogacz +have been after the horses.' + +Josel made a wry face. 'How could they, when they were in my house that +night.' + +'In your house?' + +'To be sure,' Josel answered carelessly. 'Gryb and Orzchewski both saw +them...dead drunk they were. What are they to do? they can't get +regular work, and what a man perchance earns in a day he likes to drink +away at night.' + +'They might have got out.' + +'They might, but the stable was locked and the key with the foreman.' +The conversation passed on to other topics. + +'Look after Sukiennik and Rogacz,' the sergeant said, on his departure, +when he and his mare had been sufficiently rested. + +'Am I their father, or are they in my service?' + +'They might rob you.' + +'Oh! I'll see to that all right!' + +The sergeant returned home, half asleep, half awake. Sukiennik and +Rogacz kept passing before his vision; they had their hands full of +locks and were surrounded by horses. Josel's smiling face was hovering +over them and now and then old Gryb and his son Jasiek jeered from +behind a cloud. He sat up...startled. But there was nothing near him +except the white hen under the box and the trees by the wayside. He +spat. + +'Bah...dreams!' he muttered. + +The peasants were relieved when day after day passed and there was no +sign of building in the camp. They jumped to the conclusion that either +the Germans had not been able to come to terms with Hirschgold, or had +quarrelled with the Hamers, or that they had lost heart because of the +horse-thieves. + +'Why, they haven't so much as measured out the ground!' cried +Orzchewski, and washed down the remark with a huge glass of beer. + +He had, however, not yet wiped his mouth when a cart pulled up at the +inn and the surveyor alighted. They knew him directly by his +moustaches, which were trimmed to the resemblance of eels, and by his +sloeberry-coloured nose. + +While Gryb and Orzchewski sorrowfully conducted each other home, they +comforted themselves with the thought that the surveyor might only be +spending the night in the village on his way elsewhere. + +'God grant it, I want to see that young scamp of a Jasiek settled and +married, and if I let him out of my sight he goes to the dogs +directly.' + +'My Paulinka is a match for him; she'll look after him!' + +'You don't know what you're talking of, neighbour; it will take the +three of us to look after him. Lately he hasn't spent a single night at +home, and sometimes I don't see him for a week.' + +The surveyor started work in the manor-fields the next morning, and for +several days was seen walking about with a crowd of Germans in +attendance on all his orders, carrying his poles, putting up a portable +table, providing him with an umbrella or a place in the shade where he +could take long pulls out of his wicker flask. The peasants stood +silently watching them. + +'I could measure as well as that if I drank as much as he does,' said +one of them. + +'Ah, but that is why he is a surveyor,' said another, 'because he has a +strong head.' + +No sooner had he departed than the Germans drove off and returned with +heavy cartloads of building materials. One fine day a small troop of +masons and carpenters appeared with their implements. A party of +colonists went out to meet them, followed by a large crowd of women and +children. They met at an appointed place, where refreshments and a +barrel of beer had been provided. + +Old Hamer, in a faded drill-jacket, Fritz in a black coat, and Wilhelm, +adorned with a scarlet waistcoat with red flowers, were busy welcoming +the guests; Wilhelm had charge of the barrel of beer. + +Maciek had noticed these preparations and gave the alarm, and all the +inhabitants of the gospodarstwo watched the proceedings with the +keenest interest. They saw old Hamer taking up a stake and driving it +into the ground with a wooden hammer. + +'Hoch!...Hoch!' shouted the workmen. Hamer bowed, took a second stake +and carried it northwards, accompanied by the crowd. The women and +children were headed by the schoolmaster in his little cart. He now +lifted his cap high into the air, and at this sign the whole crowd +started to sing Luther's hymn: + + 'A stronghold sure our God remains, + A shield and hope unfailing, + In need His help our freedom gains, + O'er all our fear prevailing; + Our old malignant foe + Would fain work us woe; + With craft and great might + He doth against us fight, + On earth is no one like him.' + +At the first note Slimak had taken off his cap, his wife crossed +herself, and Maciek stepped aside and knelt down. Stasiek, with +wide-open eyes, began to tremble, and Jendrek started running down the +hill, waded through the river, and headed at full speed for the camp. + +While Hamer was driving the stake into the ground the procession, +slowly coming up to him, continued: + + 'Our utmost might is all in vain, + We straight had been rejected, + But for us fights the perfect Man + By God Himself elected; + Ye ask: Who may He be? + The Lord Christ is He! + The God, by hosts ador'd, + Our great Incarnate Lord, + Who all His foes will vanquish.' + +Never had the peasants heard a hymn like this, so solemn, yet so +triumphant, they who only knew their plainsongs, which rose to heaven +like a great groan: 'Lord, we lay our guilt before Thine eyes.' + +A cry from Stasiek roused the parents from their reverie. + +'Mother...mother...they are singing!' stammered the child; his lips +became blue, and he fell to the ground. + +The frightened parents lifted him up and carried him into the cottage, +where he recovered when the singing ceased. They had always known that +the singing at church affected him very deeply, but they had never seen +him like this. + +Jendrek, meanwhile, although wet through and cold, stood riveted by the +spectacle he was watching. Why were these people walking and singing +like this? Surely, they wanted to drive away some evil power from their +future dwellings, and, not having incense or blessed chalk, they were +using stakes. Well, after all, a club of oakwood was better against the +devil than chalk! Or were they themselves bewitching the place? + +He was struck with the difference in the behaviour of the Germans. The +old men, women, and children were walking along solemnly, singing, but +the young fellows and the workmen stood in groups, smoking and +laughing. Once they made a noisy interruption when Wilhelm Hamer, who +presided at the beer-barrel, lifted up his glass. The young men shouted +'Hoch! hurrah!' Old Hamer looked round disapprovingly, and the +schoolmaster shook his fist. + +As the procession drew near, Jendrek heard a woman's voice above the +children's shrill trebles, Hamer's guttural bass and the old people's +nasal tones; it was clear, full, and inexpressively moving. It made his +heart tremble within him. The sounds shaped themselves in his +imagination to the picture of a beautiful weeping-willow. + +He knew that it must be the voice of the schoolmaster's daughter, whom +he had seen before. At that time the dog had engaged his attention more +than the girl, but now her voice took entire possession of the boy's +soul, to the exclusion of everything else he heard or saw. He, too, +wanted to sing, and began under his breath: + + 'The Lord is ris'n to-day. + The Lord Jesus Christ...' + +It seemed to fit in with the melody which the Germans were just +singing. + +He was roused from this state by the young men's voices; he caught +sight of the schoolmaster's daughter and unconsciously moved towards +her. But the young man soon brought him to his senses. They pulled his +hat over his ears, pushed him into the middle of the crowd, and, wet, +smeared with sand, looking more like a scarecrow than a boy, he was +passed from hand to hand like a ball. Suddenly his eyes met those of +the girl, and a wild spirit awoke in him. He kicked one young man over +with his bare legs, tore the shirt off another one's back, butted old +Hamer in the stomach, and then stood with clenched fists in the space +he had cleared, looking where he might break through. Most of the men +laughed at him, but some were for handling him roughly. Fortunately old +Hamer recognized him. + +'Why, youngster, what are you up to?' + +'They're bullying me,' he said, while the tears were rising in his +throat. + +'Don't you come from that cottage? What are you doing here?' + +'I wanted to listen to your singing, but those scoundrels...' + +He stopped suddenly when he saw the grey eyes of the schoolmaster's +daughter fixed on him. She offered him the glass of beer she had been +drinking from. + +'You are wet through,' she said. 'Take a good pull.' + +'I don't want it,' said the boy, and felt ashamed directly; it did not +seem well-mannered to speak rudely to one so beautiful. + +'I might get tipsy...' he cried, but drained the glass, looked at her +again and blushed so deeply that the girl smiled sadly as she looked at +him. + +At that moment violins and cellos struck up; Wilhelm Hamer came heavily +bounding along and took the girl away to dance. Her yearning eyes once +more rested on Jendrek's face. + +He felt that something strange was happening to him. A terrible anger +and sorrow gripped him by the throat; he wanted to throw himself on +Wilhelm and tear his flowered waistcoat off his back; at the same time +he wanted to cry aloud. Suddenly he turned to go. + +'Are you going?' asked the schoolmaster. 'Give my compliments to your +father.' + +'And you can tell him from me that I have rented the field by the river +from Midsummer Day,' Hamer called after him. + +'But dad rented it from the squire!' Hamer laughed...'The squire! We +are the squires now, and the field is mine.' + +As Jendrek neared the road he came upon a peasant, hidden behind a +bush, who had been watching. It was Gryb. + +'Be praised,' said Jendrek. + +'Who's praised at your place?' growled the old man; 'it must be the +devil and not the Lord, since you are taking up with the Germans.' + +'Who's taking up with them?' + +The peasant's eyes flashed and his dry skin quivered. + +'You're taking up with them!' he cried, shaking his fist, 'or perhaps I +didn't see you running off to them like a dog through the water to +cadge for a glass of beer, nor your father and mother on the hill +praying with the Swabians...praying to the devil! God has punished them +already, for something has fallen on Stasiek. There will be more to +come...you wait!' + +Jendrek slowly walked home, puzzled and sad. When he returned to the +cottage, he found Stasiek lying ill. He told his father what Gryb had +said. + +'He's an old fool,' replied Slimak. 'What! should a man stand like a +beast when others are praying, even if they are Swabians?' + +'But their praying has bewitched Stasiek.' Slimak looked gloomy. + +'Why should it have been their prayers? Stasiek is easily upset. Let a +woman but sing in the fields and he'll begin to shake all over.' + +The matter ended there. Jendrek tried to busy himself about the +cottage, but he felt stifled indoors. He roamed about in the ravines, +stood on the hill and watched the Germans, or forced his way through +brambles. Wherever he went, the image of the schoolmaster's daughter +went with him; he saw her tanned face, grey eyes, and graceful +movements. Sometimes her powerful, entrancing voice seemed to come to +him as from a depth. + +'Has she cast a spell over me?' he whispered, frightened, and continued +to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Slimak had never been so well off as he was that spring; money was +flowing into his chest while he took his leisure and looked around him +at all the new things. + +Formerly, after a heavy day, he had thrown himself on his bed and had +scarcely fallen asleep like a stone when his wife would pull the cover +off him, crying: 'Get up, Josef; it is morning.' + +'How can it be morning?' he thought; 'I've only just lain down.' All +the same he had to gather his bones together, when each one +individually held to the bed; willy-nilly he had to get up. So hard was +the resolution sometimes, that he even thought with pleasure of the +eternal sleep, when his wife would no longer stand over him and urge: +'Get up, wash...you'll be late; they'll take it off your wages.' + +Then he would dress, and drag the equally tired horses out of the +stable, so overcome with sleep that he would pause on the threshold and +mutter, 'I shall stay at home!' But he was afraid of his wife, and he +also knew very well that he could not make both ends meet at the +gospodarstwo without his wages. + +Now all that was different. He slept as long as he liked. Sometimes his +wife pulled him by the leg from habit and said: 'Get up, Josef.' But, +opening only one eye, lest sleep should run away from him, he would +growl: 'Leave me alone!' and sleep, maybe, till the church bell rang +for Mass at seven o'clock. + +There was really nothing to get up for now. Maciek had long ago +finished the spring-work in the fields; the Jews had left the village, +carrying their business farther afield, following the new railway line +now under construction, and no one sent for him from the manor--for +there was no manor. He smoked, strolled about for days together in the +yard, or looked at the abundantly sprouting corn. His favourite +pastime, however, was to watch the Germans, whose habitations were +shooting up like mushrooms. + +By the end of May Hamer and two or three others had finished building, +and their gospodarstwos were pleasant to look at. They resembled each +other like drops of water; each one stood in the middle of its fields, +the garden was by the roadside, shut off by a wooden fence; the house, +roughcast, consisted of four large rooms, and behind it was a +good-sized square of farm-buildings. + +All the buildings were larger and loftier than those of the Polish +peasants, and were clean and comfortable, although they looked stiff +and severe; for while the roofs of the Polish gospodarstwos overhung on +the four sides, those of the Germans did so only at the front and back. + +But they had large windows, divided into six squares, and the doors +were made by the carpenter. Jendrek, who daily ran over to the +settlement reported that there were wooden floors, and that the kitchen +was a separate room with an iron-plated stove. + +Slimak sometimes dreamt that he would build a place like that, only +with a different roof. Then he would jump up, because he felt he ought +to go somewhere and do work, for he was bored and ashamed of idling; at +times he would long for the manor-fields over which he had guided the +plough, where the settlement now stood. Then a great fear would seize +him that he would be powerless when the Germans, who had felled +forests, shattered rocks and driven away the squire, should start on +him in earnest. + +But he always reassured himself. He had been neighbours with them now +for two months and they had done him no harm. They worked quietly, +minded their cattle so that they should not stray, and even their +children were not troublesome, but went to school at Hamer's house, +where the infirm schoolmaster kept them in order. + +'They are respectable people,' he satisfied himself. 'I'm better off +with them than with the squire.' + +He was, for they bought from him and paid well. In less than a month he +had taken a hundred roubles from them; at the manor this had meant a +whole year's toil. + +'Do you think, Josef, that the Germans will always go on buying from +you?' his wife asked from time to time. 'They have their own +gospodarstwos now, and better ones than yours; you will see, it will +last through the summer at the best, and after that they won't buy a +stick from us.' + +'We shall see,' said the peasant. + +He was secretly counting on the advantages which he would reap from the +building of the new line; had not the engineer promised him this? He +even laid in provisions with this object, having to go farther afield, +for the peasants in the village would no longer sell him anything. + +But he soon realized that prices had risen; the Germans had long ago +scoured the neighbourhood and bought without bargaining. + +Once he met Josel who, instead of smiling maliciously at him as usual, +asked him to enter into a business transaction with him. + +'What sort of business?' asked Slimak. + +'Build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He wants to set up a shop and deal with the railway people, else the +Germans will take away all the business from under our noses.' + +Slimak reflected. + +'No, I don't want a Jew on my land,' he said. 'I shouldn't be the first +to be eaten up by you longcurls.' + +'You don't want to live with a Jew, but you are not afraid to pray with +the Germans,' said the Jew, pale with anger. + +Slimak was made to feel the profound unpopularity he had incurred in +the village. At church on Sundays hardly anyone answered him 'In +Eternity', and when he passed a group he would hear loud talk of +heresy, and God's judgment which would follow. + +He therefore ordered a Mass one Sunday, on the advice of his wife, and +went to confession with her and Jendrek; but this did not improve +matters, for the villagers discussed over their beer in the evening +what deadly sin he might have been guilty of to go to confession and +pray so fervently. + +Even old Sobieska rarely appeared and came furtively to ask for her +vodka. Once, when her tongue was loosened, she said: 'They say you have +turned into a Lutheran...It's true,' she added, 'there is only one +merciful God, still, the Germans are a filthy thing!' + + + +The Germans now began mysteriously to disappear with their carts at +dawn of day, carrying large quantities of provisions with them. Slimak +investigated this matter, getting up early himself. Soon he saw a tiny +yellow speck in the direction which they had taken. It grew larger +towards evening, and he became convinced that it was the approaching +railway line. + +'The scoundrels!' he said to his wife, 'they've been keeping this +secret so as to steal a march on me, but I shall drive over.' + +'Well, look sharp!' cried his wife; 'those railway people were to have +been our best customers.' + +He promised to go next day, but overslept himself, and Slimakowa barely +succeeded in driving him off the day after. + +He gathered some information on the way from the peasants. Many of them +had volunteered for work, but only a few had been taken on, and those +had soon returned, tired out. + +'It's dogs' work, not men's,' they told him; 'yet it might be worth +your while taking the horses, for carters earn four roubles a day.' + +'Four roubles a day!' thought Slimak, laying on to the horses. + +He drove on smartly and soon came alongside the great mounds of clay on +which strangers were at work, huge, strong, bearded men, wheeling large +barrows. Slimak could not wonder enough at their strength and industry. + +'Certainly, none of our men would do this,' he thought. + +No one paid any attention to him or spoke to him. At last two Jews +caught sight of him and one asked: 'What do you want, gospodarz?' The +embarrassed peasant twisted his cap in his hands. + +'I came to ask whether the gentlemen wanted any barley or lard?' + +'My dear man,' said the Jew, 'we have our regular contractors; a nice +mess we should be in, if we had to buy every sack of barley from the +peasants!' + +'They must be great people,' thought Slimak, 'they won't buy from the +peasants, they must be buying from the gentry.' + +So he bowed to the ground before the Jew, who was on the point of +walking away. + +'I entreat the favour of being allowed to cart for the gentlemen.' + +This humility pleased the Jew. + +'Go over there, my dear fellow,' he said, 'perhaps they will take you +on.' + +Slimak bowed again and made his way through the crowd with difficulty. +Among other carts he saw those of the settlers. + +Fritz Hamer came forward to meet him; he seemed to be in a position of +some authority there. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I want a job too.' The settler frowned. + +'You won't get one here!' + +Seeing that Slimak was looking round, he went to the inspector and +spoke to him. + +'No work for carters,' the latter at once shouted, 'no work! As it is +we have too many, you are only getting in people's way. Be off!' The +brutal way in which this order was given so bewildered the peasant +that, in turning, he almost upset his cart; he drove off at full speed, +feeling as if he had offended some great power which had worked enough +destruction already and was now turning hills into valleys and valleys +into hills. + +But gradually he reflected more calmly. People from the village had +been taken on, and he remembered seeing peasants' carts at the +embankment. Why had he been driven away? + +It was quite clear that some one wished to shut him out. + +'Curse the Judases, they're outdoing the Jews,' he muttered and felt a +horror of the Germans for the first time. + +He told his wife briefly that there was no work, and betook himself to +the settlement. Old Hamer seemed to be in the middle of a heated +argument with Hirschgold and two other men. When he caught sight of the +peasant he took them into the barn. + +'Sly dog,' murmured Slimak; 'he knows what I've come for. I'll tell him +straight to his face when he comes out.' + +But at every step his courage failed him more and more. He hesitated +between his desire to turn back and his unwillingness to lose a job; he +hung about the fences, and looked at the women digging in their +gardens. A murmur like the hum of a beehive caught his ears: one of the +windows in Hamer's house was open and he looked into a schoolroom. + +One of the children was reciting something in a clamorous voice, the +others were talking under their breath. The schoolmaster was standing +in the middle of the room, calling out 'Silence!' from time to time. + +When he saw Slimak, he beckoned to his daughter to take his place, and +the hubbub of voices increased. Slimak watched her trying to cope with +the children. + +The schoolmaster came up behind him, walking heavily. + +'Did you come to see how we teach our children?' he asked, smilingly. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Slimak; 'I've come to tell Hamer that he is +a scoundrel.' He related his experience. + +'What have I done?' he asked. 'Soon I may not be able to earn anything; +is one to starve because it pleases them?' + +'The truth is,' said the schoolmaster, 'that you are a thorn in their +flesh.' + +'Why?' + +'Your land is right in the middle of Hamer's fields and that spoils his +farm, but that is not the reason as much as your hill; he wants it for +a windmill. They have nothing but level ground; it's the best land in +the settlement, but no good for a windmill; if they don't put it up, +one of the other settlers will.' + +'And why are they so crazy after a windmill?' + +'Well, it matters a great deal to them; if Wilhelm had a windmill he +could marry Miller Knap's daughter from Wolka and get a thousand and +twenty roubles with her; the Hamers may go bankrupt without that money. +That's why you stick in their throats. If you sold them your land they +would pay you well.' + +'And I won't sell! I will neither help them to stay here nor do myself +harm for their benefit; when a man leaves the land of his fathers...' + +'There will be trouble,' the schoolmaster said earnestly. + +'Then let there be; I won't die because it pleases them.' + +Slimak returned home without any further wish to see Hamer; he knew +there could be no understanding between them. + + + +Maciek had discovered at dawn one morning that a crowd had reached the +river-bank by the ravines, and Slimak, hurrying thither, found some +gospodarze from the village among the men. + +'What is happening?' + +'They are going to throw up a dam and build a bridge across the +Bialka,' Wisniewski replied. + +'And what are you doing here?' + +'We have been taken on to cart sand.' + +Slimak discovered the Hamers in the crowd. + +'Nice neighbours you are!' he said bitterly, going up to them. 'Here +you are sending all the way to the village for carts, and you won't let +me have a job.' + +'We will send for you when you are living in the village,' Fritz +answered, and turned his back. + +An elderly gentleman was standing near them, and Slimak turned to him +and took off his cap. + +'Is this justice, sir?' he said. 'The Germans are getting rich on the +railway, and I don't earn a kopek. Last year two gentlemen came and +promised that I should make a lot of money. Well, your honours are +building the railway now, but I've never yet taken my horses out of the +stable. A German with thirty acres of ground is having a good job, and +I have only ten acres and a wife and children to keep, as well as the +farmhand and the girl. We shall have to starve, and it's all because +the Germans have a grudge against me.' + +He had spoken rapidly and breathlessly, and after a moment of surprise +the old man turned to Fritz Hamer. + +'Why did you not take him on?' + +Fritz looked insolently at him. + +'Is it you who has to answer for the cartage or I? Will you pay my +fines when the men fail me? I take on those whom I can trust.' + +The old man bit his lip, but did not reply. + +'I can't help you, my brother,' he said; 'you shall drive me as often +as I come to this neighbourhood. It isn't much, but every little helps. +Where do you live?' + +Slimak pointed to his cottage; he was longing to speak further, but the +old man turned to give some orders, and the peasant could only embrace +his knees. + +Old Hamer waylaid him on the way back. + +'Do you see now how badly you have done for yourself? You will do even +worse, for Fritz is furious.' + +'God is greater than Fritz.' + +'Will you take seventy-five roubles an acre and settle on the other +side of the Bug? You will have twice as much land.' + +'I would not go to the other side of the Bug for double the money; you +go, if you like!' + +When the angry men were looking back at each other, the one was +standing with a stubborn face, his pipe between his clenched teeth, the +other with folded arms, smiling sadly. Each was afraid of the other. + +The embankment was growing slowly from west to east. Before long +thousands of carriages would roll along its line with the speed of +birds, to enrich the powerful, shatter the poor, spread new customs and +manners, multiply crime...all this is called 'the advancement of +civilization'. But Slimak knew nothing of civilization and its boons, +and therefore looked upon this outcome of it as ominous. The +encroaching line seemed to him like the tongue of some vast reptile, +and the mounds of earth to forebode four graves, his own and those of +his wife and children. + +Maciek also had been watching its progress, which he considered an +entire revolution of the laws of nature. + +'It's a monstrous thing', he said, 'to heap up so much sand on the +fields near the river, and narrow the bed; when the Bialka swells, it +will overflow.' + +Slimak saw that the ends of the embankment were touching the river, but +as they had been strengthened by brick walls he took no alarm. +Nevertheless, it struck him that the Hamers were hurriedly throwing up +dams on their fields in the lower places. + +'Quick folk!' he thought, and contemplated doing the same, and +strengthening the dams with hurdles, as soon as he had cut the hay. It +occurred to him that he might do it now when he had plenty of time, +but, as usual, it remained a good intention. + +It was the beginning of July, when the hay had been cut and people were +gradually preparing for the harvest. Slimak had stacked his hay in the +backyard, but the Germans were still driving in stakes and throwing up +dams. + +The summer of that year was remarkable for great heat; the bees +swarmed, the corn was ripening fast, the Bialka was shallower than +usual, and three of the workmen died of sunstroke. Experienced farmers +feared either prolonged rain during the harvest or hail before long. +One day the storm came. + +The morning had been hot and sultry, the birds did not sing, the pigs +refused to eat and hid in the shade behind the farmbuildings; the wind +rose and fell, it blew now hot and dry, now cool and damp. By about ten +o'clock a large part of the sky was lined with heavy clouds, shading +from ashen-grey into iron-colour and perfect black; at times this sooty +mass, seeking an outlet upon the earth, burst asunder, revealing a +sinister light through the crevices. Then again the clouds lowered +themselves and drowned the tops of the forest trees in mists. But a hot +wind soon drove them upwards again and tore strips off them, so that +they hung ragged over the fields. + +Suddenly a fiery cloud appeared behind the village church; it seemed to +be flying at full speed along the railway embankment, driven by the +west wind; at the same time the north wind sprang up and buffeted it +from the side; dust flew up from the highroads and sandhills, and the +clouds began to growl. + +When they heard the sound, the workmen left their tools and barrows, +and filed away in two long detachments, one to the manor-house, the +other to their huts. The peasants and settlers turned the sand out of +their carts with all speed and galloped home. The cattle were driven in +from the fields, the women left their gardens; every place became +deserted. + +Thunderclap after thunderclap announced ever-fresh legions pressing +into the sky and obscuring the sun. It seemed as if the earth were +cowering in their presence, as a partridge cowers before the hovering +hawk. The blackthorn and juniper bushes called to caution with a low, +swishing noise; the troubled dust hid in the corn, where the young ears +whispered to each other; the distant forests murmured. + +High above, in the overcharged clouds, an evil force, with strong +desire to emulate the Creator, was labouring. It took the limp element +and formed an island, but before it had time to say, 'It is good', the +wind had blown the island away. It raised a gigantic mountain, but +before the summit had crowned it, the base had been blown from +underneath. Now it created a lion, now a huge bird, but soon only torn +wings and a shapeless torso dissolved into darkness. Then, seeing that +the works fashioned by the eternal hands endured, and that its own +phantom creations could not resist even the feeblest wind, the evil +spirit was seized with a great anger and determined to destroy the +earth. + +It sent a flash into the river, then thundered, 'Strike those fields +with hail! drench the hill!' And the obedient clouds flung themselves +down. The wind whistled the reveille, the rain beat the drum; like +hounds released from the leash the clouds bounded forward...downward, +following the direction to which the flashes of lightning pointed. The +evil spirit had put out the sun. + +After an hour's downpour the exhausted storm calmed down, and now the +roar of the Bialka could be distinctly heard. It had broken down the +banks, flooded the highroad and fields with dirty water and formed a +lake beyond the sandhills of the railway embankment. + +Soon, however, the storm had gathered fresh strength, the darkness +increased, lightning seemed to flash from all parts of the horizon; +perpendicular torrents of rain drowned the earth in sheets of mist. The +inmates of Slimak's cottage had gathered in the front room; Maciek sat +yawning on a corner of the bench, Magda, beside him, nursed the baby, +singing to it in a low voice; Slimakowa was vexed that the storm was +putting the fire out; Slimak was looking out of the window, thinking of +his crops. Jendrek was the only cheerful one; he ran out from time to +time, wetting himself to the skin, and tried to induce his brother or +Magda to join him in these excursions. + +'Come, Stasiek,' he cried, pulling him by the hand, 'it's such a warm +rain, it will wash you and cheer you up.' + +'Leave him alone,' said his father; 'he is peevish.' + +'And don't run out yourself,' added his mother, 'you are flooding the +whole room.... The Word was made Flesh,' she added under her breath, as +a terrific clap of thunder shook the house. Magda crossed herself; +Jendrek laughed and cried, 'What a din! there's another.... The Lord +Jesus is enjoying Himself, firing off....' + +'Be quiet, you silly,' called his mother; 'it may strike you!' + +'Let it strike!' laughed the boy boldly. 'They'll take me into the army +and shoot at me, but I don't mind!' He ran out again. + +'The rascal! he isn't afraid of anything,' Slimakowa said to her +husband with pride in her voice. Slimak shrugged his shoulders. + +'He's a true peasant.' + +Yet among that group of people with iron nerves there was one who felt +all the terror of this upheaval of the elements. How was it that +Stasiek, a peasant child, was so sensitive? + +Like the birds he had felt the coming storm, had roamed about +restlessly and watched the clouds, fancying that they were taking +council together, and he guessed that their intentions were evil. He +felt the pain of the beaten-down grass and shivered at the thought of +the earth being chilled under sheets of water. The electricity in the +air made his flesh tingle, the lightning dazzled him, and each clap of +thunder was like a blow on his head. It was not that he was afraid of +the storm, but he suffered under it, and his suffering spirit pondered, +'Why and whence do such terrible things come?' + +He wandered from the room to the alcove, from the alcove to the room, +as if he had lost his way, gazed absently out of the window and lay +down on the bench, feeling all the more miserable because no one took +any notice of him. + +He wanted to talk to Maciek, but he was asleep; he tried Magda and +found her absorbed in the baby; he was afraid of Jendrek's dragging him +out of doors if he spoke to him. At last he clung to his mother, but +she was cross because of the fire and pushed him away. + +'A likely thing I should amuse you, when the dinner is being spoilt!' +He roamed about again, then leant against his father's knee. + +'Daddy,' he said in a low voice, 'why is the storm so bad?' + +'Who knows?' + +'Is God doing it?' + +'It must be God.' + +Stasiek began to feel a little more cheerful, but his father happened +to shift his position, and the child thought he had been pushed away +again. He crept under the bench where Burek lay, and although the dog +was soaking wet, he pressed close to him and laid his head on the +faithful creature. + +Unluckily his mother caught sight of him. + +'Whatever's the matter with the boy?' she cried. 'Just you come away +from there, or the lightning will strike you! Out into the passage, +Burek!' + +She looked for a piece of wood, and the dog crept out with his tail +between his legs. Stasiek was left again to his restlessness, alone in +a roomful of people. Even his mother was now struck by his miserable +face and gave him a piece of bread to comfort him. He bit off a +mouthful, but could not swallow it and burst into tears. + +'Good gracious, Stasiek, what's the matter? Are you frightened?' + +'No.' + +'Then why are you so queer?' + +'It hurts me here,' he said, pointing to his chest. + +Slimak, who was depressed himself, thinking of his harvest, drew him to +his knee, saying: 'Don't worry! God may destroy our crop, but we won't +starve all the same. He is the smallest, and yet he has more sense than +the others,' he said, turning to his wife; 'he's worrying about the +gospodarstwo.' + +Gradually, as the storm abated, the roar of the river struck them +afresh. Slimak quickly drew on his boots. + +'Where are you going?' asked his wife. + +'Something's wrong outside.' + +He went and returned breathlessly. + +'I say! It's just as I thought.' + +'Is it the corn?' + +'No, that hasn't suffered much, but the dam is broken.' + +'Jesus! Jesus!' + +'The water is up to our yard. Those scoundrel Swabians have dammed up +their fields, and that has taken some more off the hill.' + +'Curse them!' + +'Have you looked into the stable?' asked Maciek. + +'Is it likely I shouldn't? There's water in the stable, water in the +cowshed, look! even the passage is flooded; but the rain is stopping, +we must bale out.' + +'And the hay?' + +'That will dry again if God gives fine weather.' + +Soon the entire household were baling in the house and farm-buildings; +the fire was burning brightly, and the sun peeped out from behind the +clouds. + +On the other bank of the river the Germans were at work. Barelegged, +and armed with long poles, they waded carefully through the flooded +fields towards the river to catch the drifting logs. + +Stasiek was calming down; he was not tingling all over now. From time +to time he still fancied he heard the thunder, and strained his ears, +but it was only the noise of the others baling with wooden grain +measures. There was much commotion in the passage where Jendrek pushed +Magda about instead of baling. + +'Steady there,' cried his mother, 'when I get hold of something hard +I'll beat you black and blue!' + +But Jendrek laughed, for he could tell by a shade in her voice that she +was no longer cross. + +Courage returned to Stasiek's heart. Supposing he were to peep out into +the yard... would there still be a terrible black cloud? Why not try? +He put his head out of the back door and saw the blue sky flecked with +little white clouds hurrying eastwards. The cock was flapping his wings +and crowing, heavy drops were sparkling on the bushes, golden streaks +of sunlight penetrated into the passage, and bright reflections from +the surface of the waters beckoned to him. + +He flew out joyfully through the pools of water, delighting in the +rainbow-coloured sheaves that were spurting from under his feet; he +stood on a plank and punted himself along with a stick, pretending that +he was sailing in deep water. + +'Come, Jendrek!' he called. + +'Stop here and go on baling,' called out Slimakowa. + +The Germans were still busy landing wood; whenever they got hold of a +specially large piece they shouted 'Hurrah!' Suddenly some big logs +came floating down, and this raised their enthusiasm to such a pitch +that they started singing the 'Wacht am Rhein'. For the first time in +his life Stasiek, who was so sensitive to music, heard a men's chorus +sung in parts. It seemed to melt into one with the bright sun; both +intoxicated him; he forgot where he was and what he was doing, he stood +petrified. Waves seemed to be floating towards him from the river, +embracing and caressing him with invisible arms, drawing him +irresistibly. He wanted to turn towards the house or call Jendrek, but +he could only move forward, slowly, as in a dream, then +faster...faster; he ran, and disappeared down the hill. + +The men were singing the third verse of the 'Wacht am Rhein', when they +suddenly stopped and shouted: + +'Help...help!' + +Slimak and Maciek had stopped in their work to listen to the singing; +the sudden cries surprised them, but it was the labourer who was seized +with apprehension. + +'Run, gospodarz,' he said; 'something's up.' + +'Eh! something they have taken into their heads!' + +'Help!' the cry rose again. + +'Never mind, run, gospodarz,' the man urged; 'I can't keep up with you, +and something....' + +Slimak ran towards the river, and Maciek painfully dragged himself +after him. Jendrek overtook him. + +'What's up? Where is Stasiek?' + +Maciek stopped and heard a powerful voice calling out: + +'That's the way you look after your children, Polish beasts!' + +Then Slimak appeared on the hill, holding Stasiek in his arms. The +boy's head was resting on his shoulder, his right arm hung limply. +Dirty water was flowing from them both. Slimak's lips were livid, his +eyes wide open. Jendrek ran towards him, slipped on the boggy hillside, +scrambled up and shouted in terror: 'Daddy...Stasiek...what....' + +'He's drowned!' + +'You are mad,' cried the boy; 'he's sitting on your arm!' + +He pulled Stasiek by the shirt, and the boy's head fell over his +father's shoulder. + +'You see!' whispered Slimak. + +'But he was in the backyard a minute ago.' + +Slimak did not answer, he supported Stasiek's head and stumbled +forward. + +Slimakowa was standing in the passage, shading her eyes and waiting. + +'Well, what has he been up to now?... What's this? Has it fallen on +Stasiek again? Curse those Swabians and their singing!' + +She went up to the boy and, taking his hand, said in a trembling voice: + +'Never mind, Stasiek, don't roll your eyes like that, never mind! Come +to your senses, I won't scold you. Magda, fetch some water.' + +'He has had more than enough water,' murmured Slimak. + +The woman started back. + +'What's the matter with him? Why is he so wet?' + +'I have taken him out of the pool by the river.' + +'That little pool?' + +'The water was only up to my waist, but it did for him.' + +'Then why don't you turn him upside down? Maciek, take him by the +feet...oh, you clumsy fellows!' + +The labourer did not stir. She seized the boy herself by the legs. + +Stasiek struck the ground heavily with his hands; a little blood ran +from his nose. + +Maciek took the child from her and carried him into the cottage, where +he laid him down on the bench. They all followed him except Magda, who +ran aimlessly round the yard and then, with outstretched arms, on to +the highroad, crying: 'Help...help, if you believe in God!' She +returned to the cottage, but dared not go in, crouched on the threshold +with her head on her knees, groaning: 'Help...if you believe in God.' + +Slimak dashed into the alcove, put on his sukmana and ran out, he did +not know whither; he felt he must run somewhere. + +A voice seemed to cry to him: 'Father...father...if you had put up a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +And the man answered: 'It is not my fault; the Germans bewitched him +with their singing.' + +A cart was heard rattling on the highroad and stopped in front of the +cottage. The schoolmaster got out, bareheaded and with his rod in his +hand. 'How is the boy?' he called out, but did not wait for an answer +and limped into the cottage. + +Stasiek was lying on the bench, his mother was supporting his head on +her knees and whispering to herself: 'He's coming to, he's a little +warmer.' + +The schoolmaster nudged Maciek: 'How is he?' + +'What do I know? She says he's better, but the boy doesn't move, no, he +doesn't move.' + +The schoolmaster went up to the boy and told his mother to make room. +She got up obediently and watched the old man breathlessly, with open +mouth, sobbing now and then. Slimak peeped through the open window from +time to time, but he was unable to bear the sight of his child's pale +face. The schoolmaster stripped the wet clothes off the little body and +slowly raised and lowered his arms. There was silence while the others +watched him, until Slimakowa, unable to contain herself any longer, +pulled her hair down and then struck her head against the wall. + +'Oh, why were you ever born?' she moaned, 'a child of gold! He +recovered from all his illnesses and now he is drowned.... Merciful +God! why dost Thou punish me so? Drowned like a puppy in a muddy pool, +and no one to help!' + +She sank down on her knees, while the schoolmaster persevered for half +an hour, listening for the beating of the child's heart from time to +time, but no sign of life appeared and, seeing that he could do no +more, he covered the child's body with a cloth, silently said a prayer +and went out. Maciek followed him. + +In the yard he came upon Slimak; he looked like a drunken man. + +'What have you come here for, schoolmaster?' he choked. 'Haven't you +done us enough harm? You've killed my child with your singing...do you +want to destroy his soul too as it is leaving him, or do you mean to +bring a curse on the rest of us?' + +'What is that you are saying?' said the schoolmaster in amazement. + +The peasant stretched his arms and gasped for breath. + +'Forgive me, sir,' he said, 'I know you are a good man.... God reward +you,' he kissed his hand; 'but my Stasiek died through your fault all +the same: you bewitched him.' + +'Man!' cried the schoolmaster, 'are we not Christians like you? Do we +not put away Satan and his deeds as you do?' + +'But how was it he got drowned?' + +'How do I know? He may have slipped.' + +'But the water was so shallow he might have scrambled out, only your +singing...that was the second time it bewitched him so that something +fell on him...isn't it true, Maciek?' + +The labourer nodded. + +'Did the boy have fits?' asked the schoolmaster. + +'Never.' + +'And has he never been ill?' + +'Never.' + +Maciek shook his head. 'He's been ill since the winter.' + +'Eh?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm speaking the truth; Stasiek has been ill ever since he took a +cold; he couldn't run without getting out of breath; once I saw it fall +upon him while I was ploughing. I had to go and bring him round.' + +'Why did you never say anything about it?' + +'I did tell the gospodyni, but she told me to mind my own business and +not to talk like a barber.' + +'Well, you see,' said the schoolmaster, the boy was suffering from a +weak heart and that killed him; he would have died young in any case.' + +Slimak listened eagerly, and his consciousness seemed to return. + +'Could it be that?' he murmured. 'Did the boy die a natural death?' + +He tapped at the window and the woman came out, rubbing her swollen +eyes. + +'Why didn't you tell me that Stasiek had been ill since the winter, and +couldn't run without feeling queer?' + +'Of course he wasn't well,' she said; 'but what good could you have +done?' + +'I couldn't have done anything, for if he was to die, he was to die.' + +The mother cried quietly. + +'No, he couldn't escape; if he was to die he was to die; he must have +felt it coming to-day during the storm, when he went about clinging to +everyone...if only it had entered my head not to let him out of my +sight...if I had only locked him up....' + +'If his hour had come, he would have died in the cottage,' said the +schoolmaster, departing. + +Already resignation was entering into the hearts of those who mourned +for Stasiek. They comforted each other, saying that no hair falls from +our heads without God's will. + +'Not even the wild beasts die unless it is God's will,' said Slimak: 'a +hare may be shot at and escape, and then die in the open field, so that +you can catch it with your hands.' + +'Take my case,' said Maciek: 'the cart crushed me and they took me to +the hospital, and here I am alive; but when my hour has struck I shall +die, even if I were to hide under the altar. So it was with Stasiek.' + +'My little one, my comfort!' sobbed the mother. + +'Well, he wouldn't have been much comfort,' said Slimak; 'he couldn't +have done heavy farm work.' 'Oh, no!' put in Maciek. + +'Or handled the beasts.' + +'Oh, no!' + +'He would never have made a peasant; he was such a peculiar child, he +didn't care for farm work; all he cared for was roaming about and +gazing into the river.' + +'Yes, and he would talk to the grass and the birds, I have heard it +myself,' said Maciek, 'and many times have I thought: "Poor thing! what +will you do when you grow up? You'd be a queer fish even among +gentlefolk, but what will it be like for you among the peasants?"' + +In the evening Slimak carried Stasiek on to the bed in the alcove; his +mother laid two copper coins on his eyes and lit the candle in front of +the Madonna. + +They put down straw in the room, but neither of them could sleep; Burek +howled all night, Magda was feverish; Jendrek continually raised +himself from the straw, for he fancied his brother had moved. But +Stasiek did not move. + +In the morning Slimak made a little coffin; carpentering came so easily +to him that he could not help smiling contentedly at his own work now +and then. But when he remembered what he was doing, he was seized with +such passionate grief that he threw down his tools and ran out, he knew +not whither. + +On the third day Maciek harnessed the horses to the cart, and they +drove to the village church, Jendrek keeping close to the coffin and +steadying it, so that it should not rock. He even tapped, and listened +if his brother were not calling. + +But Stasiek was silent. He was silent when they drove to the church, +silent when the priest sprinkled holy water on him, silent when they +took him to his grave and his father helped the gravedigger to lower +him, and when they threw clods of earth upon him and left him alone for +the first time. + +Even Maciek burst into tears. Slimak hid his face in his sukmana like a +Roman senator and would not let his grief be looked upon. + +And a voice in his heart whispered: 'Father! father! if you had made a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +But he answered: 'I am not guilty; he died because his hour had come.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Autumn came with drab, melancholy stubble fields; the bushes in the +ravines turned red; the storks hastily left the barns and flew south; +in the few woods that remained, the birds were silent, human beings had +deserted the fields; only here and there some old German women in blue +petticoats were digging up the last potatoes. Even the navvies had +left, the embankment was finished, and they had dispersed all over the +world. Their place was taken by a light railway bringing rails and +sleepers. At first you were only aware of smoke in the distant west; in +a few days' time you discovered a chimney, and presently found that +that chimney was fixed to a large cauldron which rolled along without +horses, dragging after it a dozen wagons full of wood and iron. +Whenever it stopped men jumped out and laid down the wood, fastened the +iron to it and drove off again. These were the proceedings which Maciek +was watching daily. + +'Look, how clever that is,' he said to Slimak; 'they can get their load +uphill without horses. Why should we worry the beasts?' + +But when the cauldron came to a dead stop where the embankment ended by +the ravines and the men had taken out and disposed of the load, 'Now, +what will they do?' he thought. + +To the farm labourer's utter astonishment the cauldron gave a shrill +whistle and moved backwards with its wagons. + +Yes, there it was! Had not the Galician harvesters told him of an +engine that went by itself? Had they not drunk through his money with +which he was to buy boots? + +'To be sure, they told me true, it goes by itself; but it creeps like +old Sobieska,' he added, to comfort himself. Yet, deep down in his +heart he was afraid of this new contrivance and felt that it boded no +good to the neighbourhood. And though he reasoned inconsequently he was +right, for with the appearance of the railway engines there also came +much thieving. From pots and pans, drying on the fences, to horses in +the stables, nothing was safe. The Germans had their bacon stolen from +the larder; the gospodarz Marcinezak, who returned rather tipsy from +absolution, was attacked by men with blackened faces and thrown out of +his cart, with which the robbers drove off at breakneck speed. Even the +poor tailor Niedoperz, when crossing a wood, was relieved of the three +roubles he had earned with so much labour. + +The railway brought Slimak no luck either. It became increasingly +difficult to buy fodder for the animals, and no one now asked him to +sell his produce. The salted butter, and other produce of which he had +laid in a stock, went bad, and they had to eat the fowls themselves. +The Germans did all the trading with the railway men, and even in the +little town no one looked at the peasant's produce. + +So Slimak sat in his room and did no work. Where should he find work? +He sat by the stove and pondered. Would things continue like this? +would there always be too little hay? would no one buy from him? would +there be no end to the thieving? What was not under lock and key in the +farm-buildings was no longer safe. + +Meanwhile the Germans drove about for miles in all directions and sold +all that they produced. + +'Things are going badly,' said Slimakowa. + +'Eh...they'll get straight again somehow,' he answered. + +Gradually poor Stasiek was forgotten. Sometimes his mother laid one +spoon too many, and then wiped her eyes with her kerchief, sometimes +Magda thoughtlessly called Jendrek by his brother's name or the dog +would run round the buildings looking for some one, and then lay down +barking, with his head on the ground. But all this happened more and +more rarely. + +Jendrek had been restless since his brother's death; he did not like to +sit indoors when there was nothing to do, and roamed about. His rambles +frequently ended in a visit to the schoolmaster; out of curiosity he +examined the books, and as he knew some of the letters, the +schoolmaster's daughter amused herself by teaching him to spell. The +boy would purposely stumble over his words so that she should correct +him and touch his shoulder to point out the mistake. + +One day he took home a book to show what he had learnt, and his +overjoyed mother sent the schoolmaster's daughter a couple of fowls and +four dozen eggs. Slimak promised the schoolmaster five roubles when +Jendrek would be able to pray from a book and ten more when he should +have learnt to write. Jendrek was therefore more and more often at the +settlement, either busy with his lessons or else watching the girl +through the window and listening to her voice. But this happened to +annoy one of the young Germans, who was a relation of the Hamers. + +Under ordinary circumstances Jendrek's behaviour would have attracted +his parents' attention, but they were entirely engrossed in another +subject. Every day convinced them more firmly of the fact that they had +too little fodder and a cow too many. They did not say so to each +other, but no one in the house thought of anything else. The gospodyni +thought of it when she saw the milk get less in the pails, Magda had +forebodings and caressed the cows in turns, Maciek, when unobserved, +even deprived the horses of a handful of hay, and Slimak would stand in +front of the cowshed and sigh. + +It was he himself who one night broke this tacit understanding of +silence on the sad question which was becoming a crisis; he suddenly +awoke, sprang up and sat down on the edge of the bed. + +'What's the matter, Josef?' asked his wife. + +'Oh...I was dreaming that we had no fodder left and all the cows had +died.' + +'In the name of the Father and the Son...may you not have spoken that +in an evil hour!' + +'There is not enough fodder for five tails...it's no good pretending.' + +'Well, then, what will you do?' + +'How do I know?' + +'Perhaps one could...' + +'Maybe sell one of them...' finished the husband. + +The word had fallen. + +Next time Slimak went to the inn he gave Josel a hint, who passed it on +at once to two butchers in the little town. + +When they came to the cottage, Slimakowa refused to speak to them and +Magda began to cry. Slimak took them to the yard. + +'Well, how is it, gospodarz, you want to sell a cow?' + +'How can I tell?' + +'Which one is it? Let's see her.' + +Slimak said nothing, and Maciek had to take up the conversation. + +'If one is to be sold, it may as well be Lysa.' + +'Lead her out,' urged the butchers. + +Maciek led the unfortunate cow into the yard; she seemed astonished at +being taken out at such an unusual hour. + +The butchers looked her over, chattered in Yiddish and asked the price. + +'How do I know?' Slimak said, still irresolute. + +'What's the good of talking like that, you know as well as we do that +she's an old beast. We will give you fifteen roubles.' + +Slimak relapsed into silence, and Maciek had to do the bargaining; +after much shouting and pulling about of the cow, they agreed on +eighteen roubles. A rope was laid on her horns and the stick about her +shoulders, and they started. + +The cow, scenting mischief, would not go; first she turned back to the +cowshed and was dragged towards the highroad, then she lowed so +miserably that Maciek went pale and Magda was heard to sob loudly: the +gospodyni would not look out of the window. + +The cow finally planted herself firmly on the ground with her four feet +rigidly fixed, and looked at Slimak with rolling eyes as if to say: +'Look, gospodarz, what they are doing to me...for six years I have been +with you and have honestly done my duty, stand by me now.' + +Slimak did not move, and the cow at last allowed herself to be led +away, but when she had been plodding along for a little distance, he +slowly followed. He pressed the Jews' money in his hand and thought: + +'Ought I to have sold you? I should never have done it if the merciful +God had not been angry with us; but we might all starve.' + +He stood still, leant against the railings and turned all his +misfortunes over in his mind; now and then the thought that he might +still run and buy her back stole into his mind. + +He suddenly noticed that old Hamer had come close up to him. + +'Are you coming to see me, gospodarz?' he asked. + +'I'll come, if you will sell me fodder.' + +'Fodder won't help you. A peasant among settlers will always be at a +disadvantage,' said the old man, with his pipe between his teeth. 'Sell +me your land; I'll give you a hundred roubles an acre.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are mad, Pan Hamer, I don't know what you +mean. Isn't it enough that I am obliged to sell the beast? Now you want +me to sell everything. If you want me to leave, carry me out into the +churchyard. It is nothing to you Germans to move from place to place, +you are a roving people and have no country, but a peasant is like a +stone by the wayside. I know everything here by heart. I have moved +every clod of earth with my own hands; now you say: sell and go +elsewhere. Wherever I went I should be dazed and lost; when I looked at +a bush I should say: that did not grow at home; the soil would be +different and even the sun would not set in the same place. And what +should I tell my father if he were to come looking for me when it gets +too hot for him in Purgatory? He would ask me how I was to find his +grave again, and Stasiek's, poor Stasiek who has laid down his head, +thanks to you!' + +Hamer was trembling with rage. + +'What rubbish the man is talking!' he cried, 'have not numbers of +peasants settled afresh in Volhynia? His father will come looking for +him! ...You had better look out that you don't go to Purgatory soon +yourself for your obstinacy, and ruin me into the bargain. You are +ruining my son now, because I can't build him a windmill. Here I am +offering you a hundred roubles an acre, confound it all!' + +'Say what you like, but I won't sell you my land.' + +'You'll sell it all right,' said Hamer, shaking his fist, 'but I shan't +buy it; you won't last out a year among us.' + +He turned away abruptly. + +'And I don't want that lad to stroll in and out of the settlement,' he +called back, 'I don't keep a schoolmaster here for you!' + +'That's nothing to me; he needn't go if you grudge him the room.' + +'Yes, I grudge him the room,' the old man retorted viciously, 'the +father is a dolt, let the son be a dolt too.' + +Slimak's regret for the cow was drowned in his anger. 'All right, let +them cut her throat,' he thought, but remembering that the poor beast +could not help his quarrel with Hamer, he sighed. + +There were fresh lamentations at home; Magda was blubbering because she +had been given notice. Slimak sat down on the bench and listened to his +wife comforting the girl. + +'It's true, we are not short of food,' she said, 'but how am I to get +the money for your wages? You are a big girl and ought to have a rise +after the New Year. We haven't enough work for you; go to your uncle at +once, tell him how things are going from bad to worse here, and fall at +his feet and ask him to find you another place. Please God, you will +come back to us.' 'Ho,' murmured Maciek from his corner, 'there's no +returning; when you're gone, you're gone; first the cow, then Magda, +now my turn will come.' + +'Oh, you, Maciek, you will stay,' said Slimakowa, 'there must be some +one to look after the horses, and if we don't give you your wages one +year, you'll get them the next, but we can't do that to Magda, she is +young.' + +'That's true,' said Maciek on reflection, 'and it's kind of you to +think of the girl first.' + +Slimak was silently admiring his wife's good sense, but at the same +time he felt acute regret and apprehension at all these changes; +everything had been going on harmoniously for years, and now one day +sufficed to send both the cow and Magda away. + +'What shall I do?' he ruminated, 'shall I try to set up as a carpenter, +or shall I apply to his Reverence for advice? I might ask him at the +same time to say a Mass, but maybe he would say the Mass and not give +the advice. It will all come right; God strikes until His hand is +tired; then He looks down in favour again on those who suffer +patiently.' So he waited. + +Magda had found another situation by November; her place in the +gospodarstwo soon grew cold, no one thought or talked of her, and only +the gospodyni asked herself sometimes: 'Were there really a Stasiek in +this room once and a Magda pottering about, and three cows in the +shed?' + +Meanwhile the thieving increased. Slimak daily thought of putting bolts +and padlocks on the farm-buildings, or at least long poles in front of +the stable door. But whenever he reached for the hatchet, it always lay +too far off, or his arm was too short; anyhow he left it, and the +thought of buying padlocks when times were hard, made him feel quite +faint. He hid the money at the bottom of the chest so that it should +not tempt him. 'I must wait till the spring,' he thought; 'after all, +there are Maciek and Burek, they are sharp enough.' + +Burek confirmed this opinion by much howling. + +One very dark night, when sleet was falling, Maciek heard him barking +more furiously than usual, and attacking some one in the direction of +the ravines. He jumped up and waked Slimak; armed with hatchets they +waited in the yard. A heavy tread approached behind the barn as of some +one carrying a load. 'At them!' they urged Burek, who, feeling himself +backed up, attacked furiously. + +'Shall we go for them?' asked Maciek. + +Slimak hesitated. 'I don't know how many there are.' + +At that moment a light flashed up from the settlement, horses +clattered. Seeing that help was approaching, Slimak dashed behind the +barn and called out: 'Hey there! who are you?' + +Something heavy fell to the ground. + +'You wait! policeman for the Swabians, you shall soon know who we are!' +answered a voice in the darkness. + +'Catch him!' cried Slimak and Maciek simultaneously, but the thief had +escaped to the ravines. When the Germans on horseback came up, Slimak +lit a torch and ran behind the barn. A pig's carcass lay in a puddle. + +'That's our hog,' cried Fritz, 'they stole it from under our noses and +while there was a light in the house.' + +'Daredevils!' muttered Maciek. + +'To tell you the truth,' laughed Earner's farmhand, 'we thought it was +you who had done it.' + +'Go to the devil!' + +'Let's go after them,' Fritz interrupted quickly. + +'Go on! I... steal your hog! indeed!' + +'Let me go, father,' begged Jendrek. + +'Go indoors! We've saved them a hog and the thieves will revenge +themselves on us; and here they come and accuse me of being a thief +myself.' Fritz Hamer swore at the farm-hand for his clumsiness and +tried to pacify the peasant, but he turned his back on him. Fritz had +lost his zeal for pursuing the thieves, took up his hog and disappeared +into the darkness. + +After a few days the police-sergeant drove up, cross-examined every +one, explored the ravines, perspired, made himself muddy, and found no +one. He came to the very just conclusion that the thieves must have +escaped long ago. So he told Slimakowa to put some butter and a +speckled hen into his cart and returned home. + +The thieving stopped for a while, and winter came on. The ground was +warmly covered as with a sheepskin; ice as hard as flint froze on the +Bialka, the Lord wrapped the branches of the trees securely in shirts +of snow. But Slimak was still meditating on hasps and bolts. + +One evening, as he sat filling the room with smoke from his pipe, +shifting his feet and arriving at the second part of his meditations, +namely that 'What is done too soon is the devil's,' Jendrek excitedly +burst into the room. His mother was busy with the fire and paid no +attention to him, but his father noticed, although they were sparing of +light in the cottage, that his sukmana was torn and he looked bruised +and dishevelled. Looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, Slimak +emptied his pipe and said: 'Someone has been oxing your ears three +times over.' + +'I gave him one better,' said the boy scowling. + +As the mother had gone out and did not hear the conversation, the +father did not hurry himself; he cleaned his choked pipe, blew through +it and indifferently inquired, 'Who's been treating you this?' + +'That scoundrel, Hermann.' The boy was hitching up his shoulders as if +he had been stung. + +'And what were you doing at Earner's when you had been told not to go +there?' + +'I was looking at the schoolmaster through the window,' said Jendrek +blushing, and added quickly, 'That German dog ran out from the kitchen +and shouted: "You are spying about here, you thief!" "What have I +stolen?" I say, and he: "Nothing yet, but you will steal some day; be +off, or I'll box your ears." "Try!" I say. "I've tried before," says +he; "take this!"' + +'That was smart of the Swabian,' said Slimak, 'and did you do nothing +to him?' + +'Why should I do nothing to him? I snatched up a log and hit him over +the head two or three times, but the coward started bleeding and gave +in; I should have liked to have given him more, but they came running +out of their houses and I made off.' + +'So they didn't catch you?' + +'Bah, how can they catch me, when I run like a hare?' 'Confound the +boy,' said his mother, who had come in, 'the Swabians will beat him +small.' + +'He can always give them the slip,' said Slimak, lit his pipe, and +resumed his meditations on hasps and bolts. + +But these were interrupted the next afternoon by a visit from the +Hamers; their cousin, Hermann, had his head so tightly bandaged that +hardly anything was visible of his face. They stood outside the gate +and shouted to Maciek to call his master. Slimak hastily fastened his +belt and stepped out. 'What do you want?' he said. + +'We are going to the police-station to take out a summons against that +Jendrek of yours; look what he has done to Hermann; we have a +certificate from the surgeon that his injuries are serious.' + +'He came ogling the schoolmaster's daughter, now he shall ogle his +prison bars,' Hermann added thickly behind his bandages. + +Slimak was getting worried. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' he said, 'to take out a +summons for a bit of boy's nonsense; didn't Hermann box his ears too? +But we don't take out summonses for that sort of thing.' + +'Oh, rather! I gave it him,' mumbled Hermann, 'but where's the blood? +where's the doctor's certificate?' + +'You're a nice one,' said Slimak bitterly, 'there was no policeman to +certify that it was we who saved you the hog, but when a boy plays a +prank on you, you go to law.' + +'Perhaps with you a hog means as much as a man,' sneered Fritz; 'with +us it is different.' + +Slimak's meditations now turned from bolts and padlocks to prisons. He +talked the matter over with Maciek. + +'When they put our small Jendrek in Court by the side of that big +Hermann, I reckon they won't do much to him.' + +'They'll do nothing to him,' agreed the labourer. + +'All the same, I should like to know what the punishment is for +thrashing a man.' + +'They don't trouble their heads much about it. When Potocka beat her +neighbour over the head with a saucepan, they just fined her.' + +'That's true, but I am afraid they think more of the Germans than of +our people.' + +'How could they think more of unbelievers?' + +'Look at the police-sergeant, he talks to Hamer as he wouldn't even +talk to Gryb.' + +'That is so, but when he has looked round to see that no one is +listening, he tells you that a German is a mangy dog. You see, the +Germans have their Kaiser, but he's nothing like as great as our Czar; +I have it from a soldier who was in the hospital, and he used to say: +"Bah, he's nothing compared to ours!"' + +This greatly reassured Slimak, and he went to church with his wife and +son the next Sunday to find out what others, familiar with the ways of +the law, thought of the matter. Maciek remained at home to look after +the dinner and the baby. + +It was past noon when Burek began to bark furiously. Maciek looked out +and saw a man dressed like the townspeople standing at the gate; he had +pulled his cap well over his face. The farm-labourer went outside. + +'What's up?' + +'Take pity on us, gospodarz,' said the stranger, 'our sledge has broken +down close by, and I can't mend it, because they have stolen the +hatchet out of my basket last night.' + +Maciek looked doubtful. 'Have you come far?' + +'Twenty-five miles; my wife and I are driving twelve miles further. I +will give you good vodka and sausages if you will help us.' + +Maciek's suspicions lessened when vodka was mentioned. He shook his +head and crossed himself, but ultimately decided that one must help +one's neighbour, fetched the hatchet and went out with the stranger. + +He found a one-horse sledge standing near the farm. A woman, even more +smartly dressed than the man, sat huddled up in a corner; she blessed +Maciek in a tearful voice, but her husband did more, he poured out a +large tumblerful of vodka and offered it to the labourer, drinking to +his health first. Maciek apologized, as the ceremony demanded, then +took a long pull, till the tears came into his eyes. He set about +mending the sledge, and although it was a small job and did not take +him more than half an hour, the strangers thanked him extravagantly, +the woman gave him half a sausage and some roast pork, and the man +exclaimed: 'I have travelled far and wide, but I have never found a +more obliging peasant than you are, brother. I should like to leave you +a remembrance. Have you got a bottle?' + +'I think I could find one,' said Maciek, in a voice trembling with +delight. The man unceremoniously pushed his wife on one side and drew a +large bottle from underneath the seat. + +'We are off now,' he said, 'we will go to the gospodarstwo and you +shall give me some nails in case of another breakdown, and I will leave +you some of this cordial in return. Mind, if your head or your stomach +aches or you are worried and can't sleep, take a glassful of this: all +your worries will at once disappear. Take good care of it and don't on +any account give a drop away, it's a speciality; my grandfather got it +from the monks at Radecznica, it's as good as holy water.' + +Maciek went into the house, the stranger remained in the yard, looking +carelessly round the buildings, while Burek barked madly at him. At any +other time the dog's anger would have roused Maciek's suspicion, but +how could one think anything but well of a guest who had already given +vodka and sausages and who was offering more drink? He smilingly +offered a big-bellied bottle to the traveller, who poured half a pint +of the cordial into it, and when he took leave he repeated the warning +that it should be used only in case of need. + +Maciek stuffed a piece of rag into the neck of the bottle and hid it in +the stable. He felt a strong desire to taste the drink, if only a drop, +but he resisted. + +'Supposing I were to get ill... better keep it.' + +He rocked the baby to sleep and then woke her up again to tell her +about the hospital and his broken leg, about the travellers who had +left him such a magnificent present, but nothing could take his +thoughts away from the monks' cordial. The big-bellied bottle seemed to +hover over the pots and pans on the stove, it blossomed out of the +wall, it almost tapped at the window, but Maciek blinked his eyes and +thought: 'Leave me alone, you will come in useful some day!' + +Shortly before sunset he heard cheerful singing in the road, and +quickly stepping outside, he saw the gospodarz and his family returning +from church. They were silhouetted against the red sky in the white +landscape. Jendrek, his head in the air and his arms crossed behind his +back, was walking on the left side of the road, the gospodyni in her +blue Sunday skirt, and her jacket unbuttoned, so that her white chemise +and bare chest were showing, on the right. The gospodarz, his cap awry, +and holding up nis sukmana as for a dance, lurched from right to left +and from left to right, singing. The labourer laughed, not because they +were drunk, but because it pleased him to see them enjoying themselves. + +'Do you know, Maciek,' cried Slimak from afar, 'do you know the +Swabians can't hurt us!' + +He ran up full tilt and supported himself on Maciek's neck. + +'Do you know,' cried the gospodyni, coming up,'we have seen Jasiek Gryb +who knows all about the law; we told him about Jendrek's giving it to +Hermann, and he swore by a happy death that the Court would let Jendrek +off; Jasiek has been tried for these tricks himself, he knows.' + +'Let them try and put me in prison!' shouted Jendrek. + +It was in this frame of mind that they sat down, but somehow the dinner +was not a success. Slimakowa poured most of the sauerkraut over the +table, the gospodarz had no appetite, and Jendrek had forgotten how to +hold a spoon, scalded his father's foot with soup and finally fell +asleep. His parents followed his example, so Maciek was left to himself +again. The big-bellied bottle started pursuing him immediately. It +availed nothing that he busied himself with the fire and the wick of +the flickering lamp. The snoring around him disposed him to sleep and +the smell of vodka that had been introduced into the room filled him +with longing. In vain he tried to keep off the thoughts that circled +like moths round the light. When he forgot his misery at the hospital, +he thought of the forlornness of the abandoned baby, and when he put +that aside his own needs overwhelmed him again. 'It's no use,' he +muttered, 'I must go to bed.' + +He wrapped the child in the sheepskin and went into the stable. He lay +down on the straw, the warmth of the horses tempered the cold, and +Maciek closed his eyes, but sleep would not come; it was too early yet. + +As he turned from side to side, his hand came in contact with the +bottle; he pushed it away; but, violating the law of inertia, it thrust +itself irresistibly into his hand; the rag remained between his +fingers, and when he mechanically lifted it to his eyes in the +half-light, the strange vessel leapt to his lips of its own accord. Before +he was conscious of what he was doing, Maciek had pulled a long draft +of the health-giving speciality. He gulped it down and pulled a wry +face. The drink was not only strong, it was nauseous; it simply tasted +like ordinary medicine. 'Well, that wasn't worth longing for!' he +thought, as he stuffed up the neck of the bottle again. He resolved to +be more temperate in future with a liquor which was not distinguished +for a good taste. + +Maciek said a prayer and felt warm and calm. He remembered the +home-coming of the gospodarz's family: they all stood before his eyes +as if they were alive. Suddenly Slimak and Jendrek vanished and only +Slimakowa remained near him in her unbuttoned jacket which exposed rows +of corals and her bare white chest. He closed his eyelids and pressed +them with his fingers, so as not to look, but still he saw her, smiling +at him in a strange way. He hid his head in the sheepskin--it was in +vain; the woman stood there and smiled in a way that sent the fever +through his veins. His heart beat violently; he turned his head to the +wall and, terror-stricken, heard her voice whispering close to him: +'Move up!' + +'Where am I to move to?' groaned Maciek. + +A warm hand seemed to embrace his neck. + +Then his mattress began to ascend with him, he flew... flew. God I was +he falling or being lifted into the air? he felt as light as a feather, +as smoke. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw stars glittering in a +dark sky over a snowy landscape. How could he be seeing the sky? +No... he must have made a mistake; darkness was surrounding him again. +He wanted to move, but could not; besides, why should he move, when he +felt so extraordinarily comfortable? there was not a thing in the world +that it would be worth while moving a finger for, nothing but sleep +mattered, sleep without awakening. He sighed heavily and slept and +slept. + +A sensation of pain woke Maciek from a dreamless sleep which must have +lasted about ten hours. He felt himself violently shaken, kicked in the +ribs and on the head, tugged by his arms and legs. + +'Get up, you thief... get up!' a voice was shouting at him. + +He tried to get up, but turned over on the other side instead. The +blows and tugs recommenced, and the voice, choked with rage, continued: + +'Get up! I wish the holy earth had never carried you!' + +At last Maciek roused himself and sat up; the light hurt his eyes, his +head felt heavy like a rock; so he closed his eyes again, supported his +head and tried to think; immediately he received a blow in the face +from a fist. When at last he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Slimak +who was standing over him, mad with rage. + +'What are you hitting me for?' he asked in amazement. + +'Where are the horses, you thief?' shouted Slimak. + +'Horses? what horses?' + +He was suddenly seized with sickness. Coming to himself a little, he +looked round. Yes, something seemed to be missing from the stable; he +wiped his forehead, looked again... the stable was empty. + +'But where are the horses?' he asked. + +'Where?' cried Slimak, 'where your brothers have taken them, you +thief.' The labourer held out his hands. + +'I never took them out. I haven't stirred from here all night, +something must have happened... I am ill.' + +He staggered up and had to support himself. + +'What is that? You are trying to make out that you have lost your wits. +You know quite well that the horses have been stolen. Whoever stole +them must have opened the door and led them over you.' + +'God help me! no one opened the door, no one led them over me,' cried +Maciek, bursting into sobs. + +'Dad! Burek is lying dead behind the fence,' cried Jendrek, who came +running up with his mother. + +'They have poisoned him,' said the woman, 'the foam has frozen on his +mouth.' + +Maciek sank down in the open door, unable to stand any longer. + +'The devil has got him too, he isn't like himself, something has fallen +on him,' said Slimak. + +'And may he keep it till he dies,'cried the woman, 'here he is sleeping +in the stable and lets the horses be stolen. May the ground spit him +out!' + +Jendrek was looking for a stone, but his parents, taking notice of the +man's deathly pallor and his sunken eyes for the first time, restrained +him. + +'Maybe they have poisoned him too,' whispered Slimakowa. + +Slimak shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to make of it. + +He began to question Maciek: Had anything happened in his absence? + +Slowly and with difficulty, but concealing nothing, Maciek told his +story. + +'Of course they gave me some filthy stuff, and then they made off with +the horses,' he added, sobbing. + +But instead of taking pity on him, Slimak burst out afresh: + +'What? you took drink from strangers and never told me anything about +it?' + +'Why should I have bothered you, gospodarz, when you were a little bit +screwed yourself?' + +'What's that to do with you?' bawled Slimak, 'dogs have no right to +notice whether one is drunk or not, they have to be all the more +watchful when one is! You are a thief like the others, only you are +worse. I took you in when you were starving, and you've robbed me in +return.' + +'Don't talk like that,' groaned Maciek, crawling to Slimak's feet, 'I +have saved a few roubles from my wages, and there is my little chest +and a bit of sheepskin and my sukmana; take it all, but don't say I +robbed you. Your dog has not been more faithful, and they have poisoned +him too.' + +'Don't bother me,' cried Slimak, thrusting him aside, 'the fellow +offers me his wages and his box when the horses were worth twenty-eight +roubles. + +I haven't taken twenty-eight roubles the whole year. If you were my own +son I wouldn't let you off; neither of the boys have ever cost me as +much.' + +His anger overcame him, he beat himself with his clenched fists. + +'Find the horses,' he cried, 'or I will give you in charge, go where +you like, look where you like, but don't show your face here without +them or one of us will die! I loathe you. Take that bastard or we will +let it starve, and be off!' + +'I will find the horses,' said Maciek, and drew his old sheepskin round +him with trembling hands; 'perhaps God will help me.' + +'The devil will help you, you low scoundrel,' said Slimak, and turned +away. + +'And leave your box,' added Jendrek. + +'He has paid us out for our kindness,' whimpered Slimakowa, wiping her +eyes. They went into the house. + +Not one of them had a kind glance to spare for Maciek, although he was +leaving them forever. + +Slowly and painfully he wrapped the child up in an old bit of a shirt +and a shawl, fastened his belt round himself and looked for a stick. + +His head was aching as if he were going through a severe illness; he +was unable to reason out the situation. He felt no resentment towards +Slimak for having beaten him and driven him away; the gospodarz was in +the right, of course; neither was he afraid of having no roof over his +head; people like him never had any roof of their own; he was not +thinking of the future. Another thought was torturing him...the horses. +For Slimak the horses were part of his working machinery, for Maciek +they were friends and brothers. Who but they in the whole world had +longed for him, had greeted him heartily when he returned, or looked +after him when he went out? No one but Wojtek and Kasztan. For years +they had shared hardships together. Now they were gone, perhaps led +away into misery, through his, Maciek's, fault. + +He fancied he heard them neighing. They were becoming sensible of what +was happening to them and were calling to him for help! + +'I am coming, I am coming,' he muttered, took the child on his arm, +seized the stick and limped forth. He did not look round, he would see +the gospodarstwo again when he came back with the horses. + +He saw Burek lying stark behind the barn, but he had no thought to +spare for him; he peered for the traces of the horses' feet. There they +were, stamped into the snow as into wax; Kasztan's large feet and the +broken hoof of Wojtek; here the thieves had mounted and ridden off at a +slow trot. How bold, how sure of themselves they had been! But Maciek +will find you! The peasant rancour in him had been awakened. If you +escape to the end of the world he will pursue you; if you dig +yourselves into the ground he will dig you out with his hands; if you +escape to Heaven he will stand at the gate and importune the saints +until they fly all over the universe and give him back the horses! + +On the highroad the tracks became less distinct, but they were still +recognizable. Maciek could read the whole history of the peregrination +in them. Here Kasztan had been startled and had shied; here the thief +had dismounted and altered Wojtek's bridle. What gentlemen they were, +these thieves, they came stealing in new boots, such as no gentleman +need have been ashamed of! + +Near the church the tracks became confused and, what was worse, +divided. Kasztan had been ridden to the right and Wojtek to the left. +After reflecting for a moment, Maciek followed the latter track, +possibly because it was clearer, but most likely because he loved that +little horse the best. About noon he found himself near the village +where Magda's uncle, the Soltys Grochowski, lived. He turned in there, +hoping for a bite of food; he was hungry and the little girl was +crying. + +Grochowski was at home and in the middle of receiving a sound rating +from his wife for no particular reason but just for the pleasure of it. +The huge man was sitting on the bench by the wall, with one arm on the +table and the other on the window-sill, listening with an expression of +fixed attention to his wife's homilies; this attention was, however, +assumed, for whenever she buried her head among the pots and pans on +the stove he yawned and stretched himself, pulling a face as if the +conversation had long been distasteful to him. + +As his wife was in the habit of relenting before strangers, so as not +to prejudice his office, Grochowski hailed Maciek's arrival gladly, and +ordered food for him and milk for the little girl, adding cold meat and +vodka to the repast when he heard the news that Slimak's horses had +been stolen and that Maciek was applying to him for advice. He even +talked of drawing up a statement, but the necessary implements were not +at hand. So he drew Maciek into the alcove for a long, whispered +conversation, the upshot of which was that they must proceed with +caution upon the track of the thieves, as certain strong influences +tied Grochowski's hands until he had clearer evidence. Maciek was also +given to understand why Jasiek Gryb had entertained the gospodarz and +his family so liberally, and Grochowski even seemed to know the man who +had presented Maciek with the monks' cordial and said that the woman in +the sledge was not a woman at all. + +'I will do whatever you tell me, Soltys,' said Maciek, embracing his +knees, 'even if you should send me to my death.' + +'It is no use tracking near here,' said the Soltys, 'we know all about +that, but it would be useful to know where the other track leads to. +Follow that as far as you can, and if you find any clue let me know at +once. You ought to be back here by to-morrow.' + +'And shall we find the horses?' + +'We shall find them even if we had to drag them out of the thieves' +bowels,' said the Soltys, looking fierce. + +It was about two o'clock when Maciek was ready to start. The Soltys +hinted that the child had better be left behind, but his wife was so +angry at the suggestion that he desisted. So Maciek tied her up again +in the old bits of clothing and went his way. + +He easily found Kasztan's tracks on the highroad and followed them for +an hour, when he thought that he must be nearing the thieves' quarters, +for the tracks had been covered up, and finally led into the ravines. +The frost was pinching harder and harder, but the breathless man +scarcely noticed the cold. From time to time clouds flew over the sky +and snow drifted along the ground in gusts; Maciek searched all the +more eagerly, so as not to miss the track before it should be covered +with fresh drifts. On and on he walked, never even noticing that +darkness was coming on and the snow was falling faster. + +Now and then he would sit down for a moment, too tired to go on, but he +jumped up again, for he fancied he heard Kasztan neighing. Probably it +was his aching head that produced these sounds, but at last they became +so loud that he left the track and cut right across the hill in the +direction from which they seemed to proceed. With his last remaining +strength he struggled with the bushes, fell, scrambled to his feet, and +continued. Then the neighing ceased and he found that he was in the +ravines, knee-deep in snow, and night-was falling. + +With difficulty he dragged himself on to a knoll to see where he was. +He could see nothing but snow--snow to the right and to the left, here +and there intercepted by bushes, the last streak of light had faded +from the sky. + +He tried to descend; in one place the slope was too steep, in another +there were too many bushes; at last he decided on an easier place and +put his stick forward; it gave way, and he fell after it for several +yards. It was fortunate that the snow lay waist-deep in this spot. + +The frightened child began its low sobbing, it had always been too weak +to cry heartily. Fear was knocking at Maciek's heart. + +'Surely, I can't have lost my way?' he thought, 'these are our ravines +that I know so well, yet I don't see my way out of them.' + +He started walking again, alternately in low and deep snow, until he +came upon a place that had been trodden down recently. He knelt down +and felt the tracks with his hands. They were his own footprints. + +'Dear me! I've been going round in a circle,' he muttered, and tried +another corridor of ravines which presently led him to the place where +he had slid down the hill. He fancied he heard murmurings overhead and +looked up, but it was only the rustling of the bushes. The wind had +sprung up on the hillside and was driving before it clouds of fine snow +which stung his face and hands like gnats. + +'Can it be that my hour has come?' he thought; 'No, no,' he whispered, +'not till I have found the horses, else they will take me for a thief.' +He wrapped the child more closely in the coverings; she had fallen +asleep in spite of shaking and discomfort; he walked about aimlessly, +so as to keep moving. + +'I won't be a fool and sit down,' he muttered, 'if I sit down I shall +be frozen, and the thieves will keep the horses.' + +The hard snow fell faster and faster, whitening Maciek from head to +foot; the wind swept along the top of the hills, and as he listened to +it, the man was glad that he had not been caught in the open. + +'It's quite warm here,' he said, 'but all the same I'm not going to sit +down, I must keep on walking till the morning.' + +But it was not yet midnight and Maciek's legs began to refuse +obedience, he could no longer push away the snow with his feet; he +stopped and stamped, but that was even more tiring; he leant against +the sides of the little cavity. The spot was excellent; it was raised +above the ravine, and the little hollow was just large enough to hold a +man; bushes sheltered it against the snow on all sides. But the +crowning advantage was a jutting piece of rock, about the size of a +stool. + +'No, I won't sit down,' he determined, 'I know I should get +frozen.... It's true,' he added after a while, 'it would not do to go +to sleep, but it can't hurt to sit down for a bit.' + +He boldly sat down, drew his cap over his ears and the clothes round +the sleeping child, and decided that he would alternately rest and +stamp, and so await the morning. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep,' he kept on reminding himself. He +fancied the air was getting a little warmer and his feet were thawing. +Instead of the cold he felt ants creeping under the soles of his feet. +They crept in among his toes, swarmed over his injured leg, then over +the other, and reached his knees. In a mysterious way one had suddenly +settled on his nose; he wanted to flick it off, but a whole swarm was +sitting on his arms. He decided not to drive them away, for in the +first place they were keeping him awake, and then he rather liked them. +He smiled, as one reached his waist, and did not ask how they came to +be there. It was not surprising that there should be ant-hills in the +ravines, and he forgot that it was winter. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep...so long as I don't go to sleep....' +But at last he asked himself 'Why am I not to go to sleep? It's night +and I am in the stable? The thieves might be coming, that's it!' + +He grasped his stick more firmly; whispers seemed to be stirring all +round. + +'Oho! they are opening the stable door, there is the snow, this time I +will give it to them....' + +The thieves must have found out that he was on the watch this time and +made off. Maciek laughed; now he could go to sleep. He straightened his +back, pressed the little girl close. + +'Just a moment's sleep,' he reminded himself, 'I've something to do, +but what is it? Ploughing? no, that's done. Water the horses.. the +horses....' + +After midnight the moon dispersed the clouds and the new moon peeped +out and looked straight into the sleeper's face: but the man did not +move. Fresh clouds came up and hid the moon, yet he did not move. He +sat in the hollow of the hill, his head leaning against its side, the +child clasped to his breast. + +At last the sun rose, but even then he did not move. He seemed to be +gazing in astonishment at the railway line, not more than twenty steps +away from his resting place. + +The sun was high when a signalman came along the permanent way. He +caught sight of the sleeper and shouted, but there was no answer, and +the man approached. + +'Heh, father! have you been drinking?' he called out, as he went round +the hollow at a distance. At last, hardly believing his eyes, he went +up to the silent sitter and touched his hand. + +Maciek's and the child's faces were hard, as if they had been cast in +wax, hoarfrost lay on his lashes, and frozen moisture stood on the +child's lips. The signalman's arms dropped in astonishment; he wanted +to call for help, but remembered that no one would hear him. He turned +and ran at full speed to the Soltys' office. + +In the course of an hour or two a sledge with some men arrived to +remove the bodies. But Maciek's was frozen so hard that it was +impossible to open his arms or straighten his legs, so they put him in +the sledge as he was. He went for his last drive with the child on his +knees, his head resting against the rail, and his face turned upwards, +as though he had done with human reckoning and was recounting his +wrongs to his Creator. + +When the mournful procession stopped, a small crowd of peasants, women, +and Jews gathered in front of the Wojt's office. The Wojt, his clerk, +and Grochowski were standing together. A shudder of remorse seized the +latter, he guessed who the man and child were that had been found, +frozen to death. He explained to the crowd what Maciek had told him. + +When he had finished, the men turned away, the women groaned, the Jews +spat on the ground; only Jasiek, the son of the rich peasant Gryb, +lighted an expensive cigar and smiled. He put his hands in the pockets +of his sheepskin coat, stuck out first one foot, then the other, to +display his elegant top-boots that reached above his knees, sucked his +cigar, and continued to smile. The men looked at him with aversion, but +the women, although shocked, did not think him repulsive. Was he not a +tall, broadshouldered, graceful lad, with a complexion like milk and +blood, and eyes the colour of a bluebottle, and did he not trim his +moustaches and beard like a nobleman? It was a pity he was not a +foreman with plenty of opportunities of ordering the girls about! The +men, however, were whispering among themselves that he was a scoundrel +who would come to a bad end. + +'Certainly it was wrong of Slimak to send the poor wretch away in such +weather,' said the Wojt. + +'It was a shame,' murmured the women. + +'It's only natural he should be angry when his horses had been stolen,' +said one of the men. + +'Driving him away did not bring the horses back, and he will have the +two poor souls on his conscience till he dies,' cried an old woman. + +Grochowski was seized with shuddering again. + +'It was not so much that Slimak drove him away, but that he himself was +anxious to go,' he said quickly, 'he wanted to track the thieves;' here +he gave a quick glance at Jasiek, who returned it insolently, and +observed that horse-thieves were sharp, and more people might meet +their death in tracking them. + +'They may find that there is a limit to it,' said Grochowski. + +The policeman now proceeded to examine the corpses, and the Wojt was +standing by with a wry face, as if he had bitten on a peppercorn. + +'We must drive them to the district police-court,' he said; 'Stojka,' +turning to the owner of the sledge, 'drive on, we will overtake you +presently. This is the first time that any one in this parish has ever +been frozen to death.' + +Stojka demurred and scratched his head, but he took up the reins and +lashed the horses; after all, it was only a few versts, and one need +not look much at the passengers. He walked by the side of the sledge +and Grochowski and a man who was to make closer acquaintance with the +police-court, for spoiling his neighbour's bucket, went with him. + +It so happened that, just as the Wojt was dispatching the bodies to the +police-court, the police officer was sending 'Silly Zoska' back to her +native village. A few months after leaving her child in Maciek's care +she had been arrested; the reason was unknown to her. As a matter of +fact she had been accused of begging, vagrancy, and attempted arson. +After the discovery of each new crime, they had taken her from +police-station to prison, from prison to infirmary, from infirmary to +another prison, and so on for a whole year. + +During her peregrinations Zoska had behaved with complete indifference; +when she was taken to a new place she would worry at first whether she +would find work. After that she became apathetic and slept the greater +part of the time, on her plank bed, or waiting in corridors and +prison-yards. It was all the same to her. At times she began to long for +freedom and her child, and then she fell into accesses of fury. Now +they were sending her back under escort of two peasants; one carried +the papers relating to her case, and the other had come to keep him +company. She had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other, a +sukmana in holes, and a handkerchief like a sieve on her head. She +walked quickly in front of the men, as if she were in a hurry to get +back, yet neither the familiar neighbourhood nor the hard frost seemed +to make any impression on her. When the men called out: 'Heh! not so +fast!' she stood as still as a post, and waited till they told her to +go on. + +'She's quite daft!' said one. + +'She's always been like that,' said the other, who had known her a long +time, 'yet she's not bad at rough work.' + +A few versts from the village, where the chimneys peeped out from +beyond the snowy hills, they came upon the little cortege. The +attendants, noticing something unusual in the look of it, stopped and +talked to the Soltys. + +'Look, Zoska,' said the latter to the woman who was standing by +indifferently, 'that is your little girl.' + +She approached without seeming to understand; slowly, however, her face +acquired a human expression. + +'What's fallen upon them?' + +'They have been frozen.' + +'Why have they been frozen?' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house.' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house?' she repeated, fingering the +bodies, 'yes, that's my little girl, she's grown a bit; whoever heard +of a child being frozen to death?... she was meant to come to a bad +end. As God loves me, yes, that's my girl, my little girl--they've +murdered her; look at her!' she suddenly became animated. + +'Drive on,' said the Soltys, 'we must be getting on.' + +The horses started, Zoska tried to get into the sledge. + +'What are you doing?' cried her attendants, pulling her back. + +'That's my little girl!' cried Zoska, holding on. + +'What if she is yours?' said the Soltys, 'there's one road for you and +another for her.' + +'She's my little girl, mine!' With both hands the woman held on to the +sledge, but the peasant whipped up the horses and she fell to the +ground; she grasped the runners and was dragged along for several +yards. + +'Don't behave like a lunatic,' cried the men, detaching her with +difficulty from the fast-moving sledge; she would have run after it, +but one of them knelt on her feet and the other held her by the +shoulders. + +'She's my little girl; Slimak has let her freeze to death.... God +punish him, may he freeze to death himself!' she screamed. + +Gradually, as the sledge moved away, she calmed down, her livid face +assumed its copper colour, and her eyes became dull. She fell back into +her old apathy. + +'She's forgotten all about it,' said one of her companions. + +'These lunatics are often happier than other people,' answered the +friend. Then they walked on in silence. Nothing was heard but the +creaking snow under their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The loss of his horses had almost driven Slimak crazy. Beating Maciek +and kicking him out had not exhausted his anger. He felt the room +oppressive, walked out into the yard and ran up and down with clenched +fists and bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance to vent his temper. + +He remembered that he ought to feed the cows and went into the stable, +where he pushed the animals about, and when one clumsily trod on his +foot, he seized a fork and beat her mercilessly. He kicked Burek's body +behind the barn. 'You damned dog, if you had not taken bread from +strangers, I should still have my horses!' + +He returned to the room and threw himself on the bench with such +violence that he upset the block for wood-chopping. Jendrek laughed, +but his father unbuckled his belt and did not stop beating him till the +boy crept, bleeding, under the bench. With the belt in his hand Slimak +waited for his wife to make a remark. But she remained silent, only +holding on to the chimney-piece for support. + +'What makes you stagger? Haven't you got over yesterday's vodka?' + +'Something's wrong with me,' she answered low. + +He decided to strap on his belt. 'What's wrong?' + +'I can't see, and there's a noise in my ears. Is any one whistling?' + +'Don't drink vodka and you'll hear no noises,' he said, spitting, and +went out. It surprised him that she had made no remark after the +thrashing he had given Jendrek, and having no one to beat, he seized an +axe and chopped wood until nightfall, eating nothing all day. Logs and +splinters fell round him, he felt as if he were revenging himself on +his enemies, and when he left off, stiff and tired, his shirt soaked +with perspiration, his anger had gone from him. + +He was surprised to find no one in the room and peeped into the alcove; +Slimakowa was lying on the bed. + +'What's the matter' + +'I'm not well, but it's nothing.' + +'The fire has gone out.' + +'Out?' she asked vaguely, raising herself. She got up and lighted the +fire with difficulty, her husband watching her. + +'You see,' he said presently, 'you got hot yesterday and then you would +drink water out of the Jew's pewter pot and unbutton your jacket. You +have caught cold.' + +'It's nothing,' she said ill-humouredly, pulled herself together and +warmed up the supper. Jendrek crept out and took a spoon, but cried +instead of eating. + +During the night, at about the hour when the unhappy Maciek was drawing +his last breath in the ravines, Slimakowa was seized with violent fits +of shivering. Slimak covered her with his sheepskin and it passed off. +She got up in the morning, and although she complained of pains, she +went about her work. Slimak was depressed. + +Towards evening a sledge stopped at the gate and the innkeeper Josel +entered with a strange expression on his face. Slimak's conscience +pricked him. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Josel. + +'In Eternity.' + +A silence ensued. + +'You have nothing to ask?' said the Jew. + +'What should I have to ask?' Slimak looked into his eyes and +involuntarily grew pale. + +'To-morrow,' Josel said slowly, 'to-morrow Jendrek's trial is coming on +for violence to Hermann.' + +'They'll do nothing to him.' + +'I expect he will have to sit in jail for a bit.' + +'Then let him sit, it will cure him of fighting.' + +Again silence fell. The Jew shook his head; Slimak's alarm grew. + +He screwed up his courage at last and asked: 'What else?' + +'What's the use of making many words?' said the Jew, holding up his +hands, 'Maciek and the child have been frozen to death.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet and looked for something to throw at the Jew, +but staggered and held on to the wall. A hot wave rushed over him, his +legs shook. Then he wondered why he should have been seized with fear +like this. + +'Where...when?' + +'In the ravines close to the railway line.' + +'But when?' + +'You know quite well that it was yesterday when you drove them out.' +Slimak's anger was rising. + +'As I live! the Jew is a liar! Frozen to death? What did he go to the +ravines for? are there no cottages in the world?' + +The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders and got up. + +'You can believe it or not, it's all the same to me, but I myself saw +them being driven to the police-station.' + +'Ah well! What harm can they do to me, because Maciek has been frozen?' + +'Perhaps men can't do you harm, but, man, before God! or don't you +believe in God?' the Jew asked from the other side of the door, his +burning eyes fixed on Slimak. + +The peasant stood still and listened to his heavy tread down to the +gate and to the sound of his departing sledge. He shook himself, turned +round and met Jendrek's eyes looking fixedly at him from the far +corner. + +'Why should I be to blame?' he muttered. Suddenly an annual sermon, +preached by an old priest, flashed through his mind; he seemed to hear +the peculiar cadence of his voice as he said: 'I was an hungered and ye +gave me no meat.... I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'By God, the Jew is lying,' he exclaimed. These words seemed to break +the spell; he felt sure Maciek and the child were alive, and he almost +went out to call them in to supper. + +'A low Jew, that Josel,' he said to his wife, while he covered her +again with the sheepskin, when her shivering-fits returned. Nothing +should induce him to believe that story. + +Next day the village Soltys drove up with the summons for Jendrek. + +'His trial does not come on till to-morrow,' he said, 'but as I was +driving that way, I thought he might as well come with me.' + +Jendrek grew pale and silently put on his new sukmana and sheepskin. + +'What will they do to him?' his father asked peevishly. + +'Eh! I dare say he'll get a few days, perhaps a week.' + +Slimak slowly pulled a rouble out of a little packet. + +'And...Soltys, have you heard what the accursed Jew has been saying +about Maciek and the child being frozen to death?' + +'How shouldn't I have heard?' said the Soltys, reluctantly; 'it's +true.' + +'Frozen...frozen?' + +'Yes, of course. But,' he added, 'every one understands that it's not +your fault. He didn't look after the horses and you discharged him. No +one told him to go down into the ravines. + +He must have been drunk. The poor wretch died through his own +stupidity.' + +Jendrek was ready to start, and embraced his parents' knees. Slimak +gave him the rouble, tears came into his eyes; his mother, however, +showed no sign of interest. + +'Jagna,' Slimak said with concern, 'Jendrek is going to his trial.' + +'What of that?' she answered with a delirious look. + +'Are you very ill?' + +'No, I'm only weak.' + +She went into the alcove and Slimak remained alone. The longer he sat +pondering the lower his head dropped on to his chest. Half dozing, he +fancied he was sitting on a wide, grey plain, no bushes, no grass, not +even stones were to be seen; there was nothing in front of him; but at +his side there was something he dared not look at. It was Maciek with +the child looking steadily at him. + +No, he would not look, he need not look! He need see nothing of him, +except a little bit of his sukmana...perhaps not even that! + +The thought of Maciek was becoming an obsession. He got up and began to +busy himself with the dishes. + +'What am I coming to? It doesn't do to give way!' + +He pulled himself together, fed the cattle, ran to the river for water. +It was so long since he had done these things that he felt rejuvenated, +and but for the thought of Maciek he would have been almost cheerful. + +His gloom returned with the dusk. It was the silence that tormented him +most. Nothing stirred but the mice behind the boards. The voice was +haunting him again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'It's all the fault of those scoundrel Swabians that everything is +going wrong with me,' he muttered, and began to count his losses on the +window-pane: 'Stasiek, that's one, the cow two, the horses four, +because the thieves did that out of spite for the hog, Burek five, +Jendrek six, Maciek and the child eight, and Magda had to leave, and my +wife is ill with worry, that makes ten. Lord Christ...!' + +Trembling seized him and he gripped his hair; he had never in his life +felt fear like this, though he had looked death in the face more than +once. He had suddenly caught a glimpse of the power the Germans were +exercising, and it scared him. They had destroyed all his life's work, +and yet you could not bring it home to them. They had lived like +others, ploughed, prayed, taught their children; you could not say they +were doing any wrong, and yet they had made his home desolate simply by +being there. They had blasted what was near them as smoke from a kiln +withers all green things. + +Not until this moment had the thought ever come to him: 'I am too close +to them! The gospodarstwos farther off do not suffer like this. What +good is the land, if the people on it die?' + +This new aspect was so horrible to him that he felt he must escape from +it; he glanced at his wife, she was asleep. The cadence of the priest's +voice began to haunt him again. + +Steps were approaching through the yard. The peasant straightened +himself. Could it be Jendrek? The door creaked. No, it was a strange +hand that groped along the wall in the darkness. He drew back, and his +head swam when the door opened and Zoska stood on the threshold. + +For a moment both stood silent, then Zoska said: + +'Be praised.' + +She began rubbing her hands over the fire. + +The idea of Maciek and the child and Zoska had become confused in +Slimak's mind; he looked at her as if she were an apparition from the +other world. 'Where do you come from?' His voice was choked. + +'They sent me back to the parish and told me to look out for work. They +said they wouldn't keep loafers.' + +Seeing the food in the saucepan, she began to lick her lips like a dog. + +'Pour out a basin of soup for yourself.' + +She did as she was told. + +'Don't you want a servant?' she asked presently. + +'I don't know; my wife is ill.' + +'There you are! It's quiet here. Where's Magda?' + +'Left.' + +'Jendrek?' + +'Sent up for trial.' + +'There you are! Stasiek?' + +'Drowned last summer,' he whispered, fearful lest Maciek's and the +little girl's turn should come next. + +But she ate greedily like a wild animal, and asked nothing further. + +'Does she know?' he thought. + +Zoska had finished and struck her hand cheerfully on her knee. He took +courage. + +'Can I stop the night?' + +Uneasiness seized him; any other guest would have been a blessing in +his solitude, but Zoska.... If she did not know the truth, what ill +wind had blown her here? And if she knew?...' + +He reflected. In the intense silence suddenly the priest's voice +started again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'All right, stop here, but you must sleep in this room.' + +'Or in the barn?' + +'No, here.' + +He hardly knew what it was that he feared; there was a vague sense of +misfortune in the air which was tormenting him. + +The fire died down. Zoska lay down on the bench in her rags and Slimak +went into the alcove. He sat on the bed, determined to be on the watch. +He did not know that this strange state of mind is called 'nerves'. Yet +a kind of relief had come in with Zoska; she had driven away the +spectre of Maciek and the child. But an iron ring was beginning to +press on his head. This was sleep, heavy sleep, the companion of great +anguish. He dreamt that he was split in two; one part of him was +sitting by his sick wife, the other was Maciek, standing outside the +window, where sunflowers bloomed in the summer. This new Maciek was +unlike the old one, he was gloomy and vindictive. + +'Don't believe,' said the strange guest, 'that I shall forgive you. +It's not so much that I got frozen, that might happen to anyone the +worse for drink, but you drove me away for no fault of mine after I had +served you so long. And what harm had the child done to you? Don't turn +away! Pass judgment on yourself for what you have done. God will not +let these wrongs be done and keep silent.' + +'What shall I say?' thought Slimak, bathed in perspiration. 'He is +telling the truth, I am a scoundrel. He shall fix the punishment, +perhaps he will get it over quickly.' + +His wife moved and he opened his eyes, but closed them again. A rosy +brightness filled the room, the frost glittered in flowers on the +window panes. 'Daylight?' he thought. + +No, it was not daylight, the rosy brightness trembled. A smell of +burning was heavy in the room. + +'Fire?' + +He looked into the room; Zoska had disappeared. + +'I knew it!' he exclaimed, and ran out into the yard. + +His house was indeed on fire; the roof towards the highroad was alight, +but owing to the thick layers of snow the flames spread but slowly; he +could still have saved the house, but he did not even think of this. + +'Get up, Jagna,' he cried, running back into the alcove, 'the house is +on fire!' + +'Leave me alone,' said the delirious woman, covering her head with the +sheepskin. He seized her and, stumbling over the threshold, carried her +into the shed, fetched her clothes and bedding, broke open the chest +and took out his money; finally he threw everything he could lay hands +on out of the window. Here was at least something tangible to fight. +The whole roof was now ablaze; smoke and flames were coming into the +room from the boarded ceiling. He was dragging the bench through the +brightly illuminated yard when he happened to look at the barn; he +stood petrified. Flames were licking at it, and there stood Zoska +shaking her clenched fist at him and shouting: 'That's my thanks to +you, Slimak, for taking care of my child, now you shall die as she +did!' + +She flew out of the yard and up the hill; he could see her by the light +of the fire, dancing and clapping her hands. + +'Fire, fire!' she shouted. + +Slimak reeled like a wild animal after the first shot. Then he slowly +went towards the barn and sat down, not thinking of seeking help. This +was the beginning of the divine punishment for the wrong he had done. + +'We shall all die!' he murmured. + +Both buildings were burning like pillars of fire, and in spite of the +frost Slimak felt hot in the shed. Suddenly shouts and clattering came +from the settlement; the Germans were coming to his assistance. Soon +the yard was swarming with them, men, women and children with +hand-fire-engines and buckets. They formed into groups, and at Fritz +Hamer's command began to pull down the burning masses and to put out +the fire. Laughing and emulating each other in daring, they went into +the fire as into a dance; some of the most venturesome climbed up the +walls of the burning buildings. Zoska approached once more from the +side of the ravines. + +'Never mind the Germans helping you, you will die all the same,' she +cried. + +'Who is that?' shouted the settlers, 'catch her!' + +But Zoska was too quick for them. + +'I suppose it was she who set fire to your house?' asked Fritz. + +'No one else but she.' + +Fritz was silent for a moment. + +'It would be better for you to sell us the land.' + +The peasant hung his head.... + +The barn could not be saved, but the walls of the cottage were still +standing; some of the people were busy putting out the fire, others +surrounded the sick woman. + +'What are you going to do?' Fritz began again. + +'We will live in the stable.' + +The women whispered that they had better be taken to the settlement, +but the men shook their heads, saying the woman might be infectious. +Fritz inclined to this opinion and ordered her to be well wrapped up +and taken into the stable. + +'We will send you what you need,' he said. + +'God reward you,' said Slimak, embracing his knees. + +Fritz took Hermann aside. + +'Drive full speed to Wolka,' he said, 'and fetch miller Knap; we may be +able to settle this affair to-night.' + +'It's high time we did,' replied the other, audibly, 'we shan't hold +out till the spring unless we do.' + +Fritz swore. + +Nevertheless, he took leave benevolently. Bending over the sick woman +he said: 'She is quite unconscious.' + +But in a strangely decided voice she ejaculated: 'Ah! unconscious!' + +He drew back in confusion. 'She is delirious,' he said. + +At daybreak the Germans brought the promised help, but Slimak paced +backwards and forwards among the ruins of his homestead, from which the +smell of smouldering embers rose pungently. He looked at his household +goods, tumbled into the yard. How many times had he sat on that bench +and cut notches and crosses into it when a boy. That heap of +smouldering ruins represented his storehouse and the year's crop. How +small the cottage looked now that it was reduced to walls, and how +large the chimney! He took out his money, hid it under a heap of dry +manure in the stable and strolled about again. Up the hill he went, +with a feeling that they were talking about him in the village and +would come to his help. But there was no one to be seen on the +boundless covering of snow; here and there smoke rose from the +cottages. + +His imagination, keener than usual, conjured up old pictures. He +fancied he was harrowing on the hill with the two chestnuts who were +whisking their tails under his nose; the sparrows were twittering, +Stasiek gazing into the river; by the bridge his wife was beating the +linen, he could hear the resounding smacks, while the squire's +brother-in-law was wildly galloping up and down the valley. Jendrek and +Magda were answering each other in snatches of songs.... + +Suddenly he was awakened from his dreams by the stench of his burnt +cottage; he looked up, and everything he saw became abominable to him. +The frozen river, into which his child would never gaze again; the +empty, hideous homestead; he longed to escape from it all and go far +away and forget Stasiek and Maciek and the whole accursed gospodarstwo. +He could buy land more cheaply elsewhere with the money he would get +from the Germans. What was the good of the land if it was ruining the +people on it? + +He went into the stable and lay down near his wife, who was moaning +deliriously, and soon fell asleep. + +At noon old Hamer appeared, accompanied by a German woman who carried +two bowls of hot soup. He stood over Slimak and poked him with his +stick. + +'Hey, get up!' + +Slimak roused himself and looked about heavily; seeing the hot food he +ate greedily. Hamer sat down in the doorway, smoking his pipe and +watching Slimak; he nodded contentedly to himself. + +'I've been down to the village to ask Gryb and the other gospodarze to +come and help you, for that is a Christian duty....' + +He waited for the peasant's thanks, but Slimak went on eating and did +not look at him. + +'I told them they ought to take you in; but they said, God was +punishing you for the death of the labourer and the child and they +didn't wish to interfere. They are no Christians.' + +Slimak had finished eating, but he remained silent. + +'Well, what are you going to do?' + +Slimak wiped his mouth and said: 'I shall sell.' Hamer poked his pipe +with deliberation. + +'To whom?' + +'To you.' + +Hamer again busied himself with his pipe. + +'All right! I am willing to buy, as you have fallen upon bad times. But +I can only give you seventy roubles.' + +'You were giving a hundred not long ago.' + +'Why didn't you take it?' + +'That's true, why didn't I take it? Everyone profits as he can.' + +'Have you never tried to profit?' + +'I have.' + +'Then will you take it?' + +'Why shouldn't I take it?' + +'We will settle the matter at my house to-night.' + +'The sooner the better.' + +'Well, since it is so,' Hamer added after a while, 'I will give you +seventy-five roubles, and you shan't be left to die here. You and your +wife can come to the school; you can spend the winter with us and I +will give you the same pay as my own farm-labourers.' + +Slimak winced at the word 'farm-labourer', but he said nothing. + +'And your gospodarze,' concluded Hamer, 'are brutes. They will do +nothing for you.' + +Before sunset a sledge conveyed the unconscious woman to the +settlement. Slimak remained, recovered his money from under the manure, +collected a few possessions and milked the cows. + +The dumb animals looked reproachfully at him and seemed to ask: 'Are +you sure you have done the best you could, gospodarz?' + +'What am I to do?' he returned, 'the place is unlucky, it is bewitched. +Perhaps the Germans can take the spell away, I can't.' + +He felt as if his feet were being held to the ground, but he spat at +it. 'Much I have to be thankful to you for! Barren land, far from +everybody so that thieves may profit!' He would not look back. + +On the way he met two German farm-labourers, who had come to spend the +night in the stable; as he passed them, they laughed. + +'Catch me spending the winter with you scoundrels! I'm off directly the +wife is well and the boy out of jail.' + +A black shadow detached itself from the gate when he reached the +settlement, 'Is that you, schoolmaster?' + +'Yes. So you have consented after all to sell your land?' + +Slimak was silent. + +'Perhaps it's the best thing you can do. If you can't make much of it +yourself, at least you can save others.' He looked round and lowered +his voice. 'But mind you bargain well, for you are doing them a good +turn. Miller Knap will pay cash down as soon as the contract has been +signed and give his daughter to Wilhelm. Otherwise Hirschgold will turn +the Hamers out at midsummer and sell the land to Gryb. They have a +heavy contract with the Jew.' + +'What? Gryb would buy the settlement?' + +'Indeed he would. He is anxious to settle his son too, and Josel has +been sniffing round for a month past. So there's your chance, bargain +well.' + +'Why, damn it,' said Slimak, 'I would rather have a hundred Germans +than that old Judas.' + +A door creaked and the schoolmaster changed the conversation. 'Come +this way, your wife is in the schoolroom.' + +'Is that Slimak?' Fritz called out. + +'It is I.' + +'Don't stay long with your wife, she is being looked after, and we want +you at daybreak; you must sleep in the kitchen.' + +The noise of loud conversation and clinking of glasses came from the +back of the house, but the large schoolroom was empty, and only lighted +by a small lamp. His wife was lying on a plank bed; a pungent smell of +vinegar pervaded the room. That smell took the heart out of Slimak; +surely his wife must be very ill! He stood over her; her eye-lashes +twitched and she looked steadily at him. + +'Is it you, Josef?' + +'Who else should it be?' + +Her hands moved about restlessly on the sheepskin; she said distinctly: +'What are you doing, Josef, what are you doing?' + +'You see I am standing here.' + +'Ah yes, you are standing there...but what are you doing? I know +everything, never fear!' + +'Go away, gospodarz,' hurriedly cried the old woman, pushing him +towards the door, 'she is getting excited, it isn't good for her.' + +'Josef!' cried Slimakowa, 'come back! Josef, I must speak to you!' The +peasant hesitated. + +'You are doing no good,' whispered the schoolmaster, 'she is rambling, +she may go to sleep when you are out of sight.' + +He drew Slimak into the passage, and Fritz Hamer at once took him to +the further room. + +Miller Knap and old Hamer were sitting at a brightly lighted table +behind their beer mugs, blowing clouds of smoke from their pipes. The +miller had the appearance of a huge sack of flour as he sat there in +his shirtsleeves, holding a full pot of beer in his hand and wiping the +perspiration off his forehead. Gold studs glittered in his shirt. + +'Well, you are going to let us have your land at last?' he shouted. + +'I don't know,' said the peasant in a low voice, 'maybe I shall sell +it.' The miller roared with laughter. + +'Wilhelm,' he bellowed, as if Wilhelm, who was officiating at the +beer-barrel on the bench, were half a mile off, 'pour out some beer for +this man. Drink to my health and I'll drink to yours, although you +never used to bring me your corn to grind. But why didn't you sell us +your land before?' + +'I don't know,' said the peasant, taking a long pull. + +'Fill up his glass,' shouted the miller, 'I will tell you why; it's +because you don't know your own mind. Determination is what you want. +I've said to myself: I will have a mill at Wolka, and a mill at Wolka I +have, although the Jews twice set fire to it. I said: My son shall be a +doctor, and a doctor he will be. And now I've said: Hamer, your son +must have a windmill, so he must have a windmill. Pour out another +glass, Wilhelm, good beer...eh? my son-in-law brews it. What? no more +beer? Then we'll go to bed.' + +Fritz pushed Slimak into the kitchen, where one of the farm-hands was +asleep already. He felt stupefied; whether it was with the beer or with +Knap's noisy conversation, he could not tell. He sat down on his plank +bed and felt cheerful. The noise of conversation in German reached him +from the adjoining room; then the Hamers left the house. Miller Knap +stamped about the room for a while; presently his thick voice repeated +the Lord's prayer while he was pulling off his boots and throwing them +into a corner: 'Amen amen,' he concluded, and flung himself heavily +upon the bed; a few moments later noises as if he were being throttled +and murdered proclaimed that he was asleep. + +The moon was throwing a feeble light through the small squares of the +window. + +Between waking and sleeping Slimak continued to meditate: 'Why +shouldn't I sell? It's better to buy fifteen acres of land elsewhere, +than to stay and have Jasiek Gryb as a neighbour. The sooner I sell, +the better.' He got up as if he wished to settle the matter at once, +laughed quietly to himself and felt more and more intoxicated. + +Then he saw a human shadow outlined against the window pane; someone +was trying to look into the room. The peasant approached the window and +became sober. He ran into the passage and pulled the door open with +trembling hands. Frosty air fanned his face. His wife was standing +outside, still trying to look through the window. + +'Jagna, for God's sake, what are you doing here? Who dressed you?' + +'I dressed myself, but I couldn't manage my boots, they are quite +crooked. Come home,' she said, drawing him by the hand. + +'Where, home? Are you so ill that you don't know our home is burnt +down? Where will you go on a bitter night like this?' + +Hamer's mastiffs were beginning to growl. Slimakowa hung on her +husband's arm. 'Come home, come home,' she urged stubbornly, 'I will +not die in a strange house, I am a gospodyni, I will not stay here with +the Swabians. The priests would not even sprinkle holy water on my +coffin.' + +She pulled him and he went; the dogs went after them for a while +snapping at their clothes; they made straight for the frozen river, so +as to reach their own nest the sooner. On the riverbank they stopped +for a moment, the tired woman was out of breath. + +'You have let yourself be tempted by the Germans to sell them your +land! You think I don't know. Perhaps you will say it is not true?' she +cried, looking wildly into his eyes. He hung his head. + +'You traitor, you son of a dog!' she burst out. 'Sell your land! You +would sell the Lord Jesus to the Jews! Tired of being a gospodarz, are +you? What is Jendrek to do? And is a gospodyni to die in a stranger's +house?' + +She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' +she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! +Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if +you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after +death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and +open them again...listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you +sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn +to blood in your mouth.' + +'Jesus!' whispered the man. + +'...Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a +spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.' + +'Jesus...Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his +ears. + +'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He +shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on +filthy litter?' + +'Not though I had to draw...so help me God!' + +The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and +reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed. + +'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared. + +'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.' + +They demurred and he kicked them both out. They went off, cursing and +threatening him. + +Slimak laid his wife down on the warm litter and strolled about the +yard, thinking that he must presently fetch help for her and a doctor. +Now and then he looked into the stable; she seemed to be sleeping +quietly. Her great peacefulness began to strike him, his head was +swimming, he heard noises in his ears; he knelt down and pulled her by +the hand; she was dead, even cold. + +'Now I don't care if I go to the devil,' he said, raked some straw into +a corner and was asleep within a few minutes. + +It was afternoon when he was at last awakened by old Sobieska. + +'Get up, Slimak! your wife is dead! God's faith! dead as a stone.' + +'How can I help it?' said the peasant, turning over and drawing his +sheepskin over his head. + +'But you must buy a coffin and notify the parish.' + +'Let anyone who cares do that.' + +'Who will do it? In the village they say it's God's punishment on you. +And won't the Germans take it out of you! That fat man has quarrelled +with them. Josel says you are now reaping the benefit of selling your +fowls: he threatened me if I came here to see you. Get up now!' + +'Let me be or I'll kick you!' + +'You godless man, is your wife to lie there without Christian burial?' +He advanced his boot so vehemently that the old woman ran screaming out +along the highroad. + +Slimak pushed to the door and lay down again. A hard +peasant-stubbornness had seized him. He was certain that he was past +salvation. He neither accused himself nor regretted anything; he only +wanted to be left to sleep eternally. Divine pity could have saved him, +but he no longer believed in divine pity, and no human hand would do so +much as give him a cup of water. + +While the sound of the evening-bells floated through the air, and the +women in the cottages whispered the Angelus, a bent figure approached +the gospodarstwo, a sack on his back, a stick in his hand; the glory of +the setting sun surrounded him. Such as these are the 'angels' which +the Lord sends to people in the extremity of their sorrow. + +It was Jonah Niedoperz, the oldest and poorest Jew in the +neighbourhood; he traded in everything and never had any money to keep +his large family, with whom he lived in a half-ruined cottage with +broken windowpanes. Jonah was on his way to the village and was +meditating deeply. Would he get a job there? would he live to have a +dinner of pike on the Sabbath? would his little grandchildren ever have +two shirts to their backs? + +'Aj waj!' he muttered, 'and they even took the three roubles from me!' +He had never forgotten that robbery in the autumn, for it was the +largest sum he had ever possessed. + +His glance fell on the burnt homestead. Good God! if such a thing +should ever befall the cottage where his wife and daughters, +sons-in-law and grandchildren lived! His emotion grew when he heard the +cows lowing miserably. He approached the stable. + +'Slimak! My good lady gospodyni!' he cried, tapping at the door. He was +afraid to open it lest he should be suspected of prying into other +people's business. + +'Who is that?' asked Slimak. + +'It's only I, old Jonah,' he said, and peeped in, 'but what's wrong +with your honours?' he asked in astonishment. + +'My wife is dead.' 'Dead? how dead? what do you mean by such a joke? +Ajwaj! really-dead?' He looked attentively at her. + +'Such a good gospodyni...what a misfortune, God defend us! And you are +lying there and don't see about the funeral?' + +'There may as well be two,' murmured the peasant. + +'How two? are you ill?' + +'No.' + +The Jew shook his head and spat. 'It can't be like this; if you won't +move I will go and give notice; tell me what to do.' + +Slimak did not answer. The cows began to low again. + +'What is the matter with the cows?' the Jew asked interestedly. + +'I suppose they want water.' + +'Then why don't you water them?' + +No answer came. The Jew looked at Slimak and waited, then he tapped his +forehead. 'Where is the pail, gospodarz?' + +'Leave me alone.' + +But Jonah did not give in. He found the pail, ran to the ice-hole and +watered the cows; he had sympathy for cows, because he dreamt of +possessing one himself one day, or at least a goat. Then he put the +pail close to Slimak. He was exhausted with this unusually hard work. + +'Well, gospodarz, what is to happen now?' + +His pity touched Slimak, but failed to rouse him. He raised his head. +'If you should see Grochowski, tell him not to sell the land before +Jendrek is of age.' + +'But what am I to do now, when I get to the village?' + +Slimak had relapsed into silence. + +The Jew rested his chin in his hand and pondered for a while; at last +he took his bundle and stick and went off. The miserable old man's pity +was so strong that he forgot his own needs and only thought of saving +the other. Indeed, he was unable to distinguish between himself and his +fellow-creature, and he felt as if he himself were lying on the straw +beside his dead wife and must rouse himself at all costs. + +He went as fast as his old legs would carry him straight to Grochowski; +by the time he arrived it was dark. He knocked, but received no answer, +waited for a quarter of an hour and then walked round the house. +Despairing at last of making himself heard, he was just going to +depart, when Grochowski suddenly confronted him, as if the ground had +produced him. + +'What do you want, Jew?' asked the huge man, concealing some long +object behind his back. + +'What do I want?' quavered the frightened Jew, 'I have come straight +from Slimak's. Do you know that his house is burnt down, his wife is +dead, and he is lying beside her, out of his wits? He talks as if he +had a filthy idea in his head, and he hasn't even watered the cows.' + +'Listen, Jew,' said Grochowski fiercely, 'who told you to come here and +lie to me? is it those horse-stealers?' + +'What horse-stealers? I've come straight from Slimak....' + +'Lies! You won't draw me away from here, whatever you do.' + +The Jew now perceived that it was a gun which Grochowski was hiding +behind his back, and the sight so unnerved him that he nearly fell +down. He fled at full speed along the highroad. Even now, however, he +did not forget Slimak, but walked on towards the village to find the +priest. + +The priest had been in the parish for several years. He was middle-aged +and extremely good-looking, and possessed the education and manners of +a nobleman. He read more than any of his neighbours, hunted, was +sociable, and kept bees. Everybody spoke well of him, the nobility +because he was clever and fond of society, the Jews because he would +not allow them to be oppressed, the settlers because he entertained +their Pastors, the peasants because he renovated the church, conducted +the services with much pomp, preached beautiful sermons, and gave to +the poor. But in spite of this there was no intimate touch between him +and his simple parishioners. When they thought of him, they felt that +God was a great nobleman, benevolent and merciful, but not friends with +the first comer. The priest felt this and regretted it. No peasant had +ever invited him to a wedding or christening. At first he had tried to +break through their shyness, and had entered into conversations with +them; but these ended in embarrassment on both sides and he left it +off. 'I cannot act the democrat,' he thought irritably. + +Sometimes when he had been left to himself for several days owing to +bad roads, he had pricks of conscience. + +'I am a Pharisee,' he thought; 'I did not become a priest only to +associate with the nobility, but to serve the humble.' + +He would then lock himself in, pray for the apostolic spirit, vow to +give away his spaniel and empty his cellar of wine. + +But as a rule, just as the spirit of humility and renunciation was +beginning to be awakened, Satan would send him a visitor. + +'God have mercy! fate is against me,' he would mutter, get up from his +knees, give orders for the kitchen and cellar, and sing jolly songs and +drink like an Uhlan a quarter of an hour afterwards. + +To-night, at the time when Jonah was drawing near to the Parsonage, he +was getting ready for a party at a neighbouring landowner's to meet an +engineer from Warsaw who would have the latest news and be entertained +exceptionally well, for he was courting the landowner's daughter. The +priest was longing feverishly for the moment of departure, for lie had +been left to himself for several days. He could hardly bear the look of +his snow-covered courtyard any more, having no diversion except +watching a man chop wood, and hearing the cawing of rooks. He paced to +and fro, thinking that another quarter of an hour must have gone, and +was surprised to find it was only a few minutes since he had last +looked at his watch. He ordered the samovar and lit his pipe. Then +there was a knock at the door. Jonah came in, bowing to the ground. + +'I am glad to see you,' said the priest, 'there are several things in +my wardrobe that want mending.' + +'God be praised for that, I haven't had work for a week past. And your +honour's lady housekeeper tells me that the clock is broken as well.' + +'What? you mend clocks too?' + +'Why yes, I've even got the tools to do it with. I'm also an +umbrella-mender and harness-maker, and I can glaze stewing-pans.' + +'If that is so you might spend the winter here. When can you begin?' + +'I'll sit down now and work through the night.' + +'As you like. Ask them to give you some tea in the kitchen.' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon, may I ask that the sugar might be +served separately?' + +'Don't you like your tea sweet?' + +'On the contrary, I like it very sweet. But I save the sugar for my +grandchildren.' + +The priest laughed at the Jew's astuteness. 'All right! have your tea +with sugar and some for your grandchildren as well. Walenty!' he called +out, 'bring me my fur coat.' + +The Jew began bowing afresh. 'With an entreaty for your Reverence's +pardon, I come from Slimak's.' + +'The man whose house was burnt down?' + +'Not that he asked me to come, your Reverence, he would not presume to +do such a thing, but his wife is dead, they are both lying in the +stable, and I am sure he has a bad thought in his head, for no one does +so much as give him a cup of water.' The priest started. + +'No one has visited him?' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon,' bowed the Jew, 'but they say in the +village, God's anger has fallen on him, so he must die without help.' +He looked into the priest's eyes as if Slimak's salvation depended on +him. His Reverence knocked his pipe on the floor till it broke. + +'Then I'll go into the kitchen,' said the Jew, and took up his bundle. +The sledge-bells tinkled at the door, the valet stood ready with the +fur coat. + +'I shall be wanted for the betrothal,' reflected the priest, 'that man +will last till to-morrow, and I can't bring the dead woman back to +life. It's eight o'clock, if I go to the man first there will be +nothing to go for afterwards. Give me my fur coat, Walenty.' He went +into his bedroom: 'Are the horses ready? Is it a bright night?' 'Quite +bright, your Reverence.' + +'I cannot be the slave of all the people who are burnt down and all the +women who die,' he agitatedly resumed his thoughts, 'it will be time +enough to-morrow, and anyhow the man can't be worth much if no one will +help him.'...His eyes fell on the crucifix. 'Divine wounds! Here I am +hesitating between my amusement and comforting the stricken, and I am a +priest and a citizen! + +Get a basket,' he said in a changed voice to the astonished servant, +'put the rest of the dinner into it. I had better take the sacrament +too,' he thought, after the surprised man had left the room, 'perhaps +he is dying. God is giving me another spell of grace instead of +condemning me eternally.' + +He struck his breast and forgot that God does not count the number of +amusements preferred and bottles emptied, but the greatness of the +struggle in each human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Within half an hour the priest's round ponies stood at Slimak's gate. +The priest walked towards the stable with a lantern in one hand and a +basket in the other, pushed open the door with his foot, and saw +Slimakowa's body. Further away, on the litter, sat the peasant, shading +his eyes from the light. + +'Who is that?' he asked. + +'It is I, your priest.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet, with deep astonishment on his face. He +advanced with unsteady steps to the threshold, and gazed at the priest +with open mouth. + +'What have you come for, your Reverence?' + +'I have come to bring you the divine blessing. Put on your sheepskin, +it is cold here. Have something to eat.' He unpacked the basket. + +Slimak stared, touched the priest's sleeve, and suddenly fell sobbing +at his feet. + +'I am wretched, your Reverence...I am wretched...wretched!' + +'Benedicat te omnipotens Deus!' Instead of making the sign of the +cross, the priest put his arm round the peasant and drew him on to the +threshold. + +'Calm yourself, brother, all will be well. God does not forsake His +children.' + +He kissed him and wiped his tears. With almost a howl the peasant threw +himself at his feet. + +'Now I don't mind if I die, or if I go to hell for my sins! I've had +this consolation that your Reverence has taken pity on me. If I were to +go to the Holy City on my knees, it would not be enough to repay you +for your kindness.' + +He touched the ground at the priest's feet as though it were the altar. +The priest had to use much persuasion before he put on his sheepskin +and consented to touch food. + +'Take a good pull,' he said, pouring out the mead. + +'I dare not, your Reverence.' + +'Well, then I will drink to you.' He touched the glass with his lips. + +The peasant took the glass with trembling hands and drank kneeling, +swallowing with difficulty. + +'Don't you like it?' + +'Like it? vodka is nothing compared to this!' Slimak's voice sounded +natural again. 'Isn't it just full of spice!' he added, and revived +rapidly. + +'Now tell me all about it,' began the priest: 'I remember you as a +prosperous gospodarz.' + +'It would be a long story to tell your Reverence. One of my sons was +drowned, the other is in jail; my wife is dead, my horses were stolen, +my house burnt down. It all began with the squire's selling the +village, and with the railway and the Germans coming here. Then Josel +set everyone against me, because I had been selling fowls and other +things to the surveyors; even now he is doing his best to...' + +'But why does everyone go to Josel for advice?' interrupted the priest. + +'To whom is one to go, begging your Reverence's pardon? We peasants are +ignorant people. The Jews know about everything, and sometimes they +give good advice.' + +The priest winced. The peasant continued excitedly: + +'There were no wages coming in from the manor, and the Germans took the +two acres I had rented from the squire.' + +'But let me see,' said the priest, 'wasn't it you to whom the squire +offered those two acres at a great deal less than they were worth?' + +'Certainly it was me!' + +'Why didn't you take the offer? I suppose you did not trust him?' + +'How can one trust them when one does not know what they are talking +among themselves; they jabber like Jews, and when they talked to me +they were poking fun at me. Besides, there was some talk of free +distribution of land.' + +'And you believed that?' + +'Why should I not believe it? A man likes to believe what is to his +advantage. The Jews knew it wasn't true, but they won't tell.' + +'Why didn't you apply for work at the railway?' + +'I did, but the Germans kept me out.' + +'Why couldn't you have come to me? the chief engineer was living at my +house all the time,' said the priest, getting angry. + +'I beg your Reverence's pardon; I couldn't have known that, and I +shouldn't have dared to apply to your Reverence.' + +'Hm! And the Germans annoyed you?' + +'Oh dear, oh dear! haven't they been pestering me to sell them my land +all along, and when the fire came I gave way....' + +'And you sold them the land?' + +'God and my dead wife saved me from doing that. She got up from her +deathbed and laid a curse upon me if I should sell the land. I would +rather die than sell it, but all the same,' he hung his head, 'the +Germans will pay me out.' + +'I don't think they can do you much harm.' + +'If the Germans leave,' continued the peasant, 'I shall be up against +old Gryb, and he will do me as much harm as the Germans, or more.' + +'I am a good shepherd!' the priest reflected bitterly. 'My sheep are +fighting each other like wolves, go to the Jews for advice, are +persecuted by the Germans, and I am going to entertainments!' + +He got up. 'Stay here, my brother,' he said, 'I will go to the +village.' + +Slimak kissed his feet and accompanied him to the sledge. + +'Drive across to the village,' he directed his coachman. + +'To the village?' The coachman's face, which was so chubby that it +looked as if it had been stung by bees, was comic in its astonishment: + +'I thought we were going...' + +'Drive where I tell you!' + +Slimak leant on the fence, as in happier days. + +'How could he have known about me?' he reflected. 'Is a priest like God +who knows everything? They would not have brought him word from the +village. It must have been good old Jonah. But now they will not dare +to look askance at me, because his Reverence himself has come to see +me. If he could only take the sin of my sending Maciek and the child to +their death from me, I shouldn't be afraid of anything.' + +Presently the priest returned. + +'Are you there, Slimak?' he called out. 'Gryb will come to you +to-morrow. Make it up with him and don't quarrel any more. I have sent +to town for a coffin and am arranging for the funeral.' + +'Oh Redeemer!' sighed Slimak. + +'Now, Pawel! drive on as fast as the horses will go,' cried the priest. +He pulled out his repeater watch: it was a quarter to ten. + +'I shall be late,' he murmured, 'but not too late for everything; there +will be time for some fun yet.' + +As soon as the sledge had melted into the darkness, and silence again +brooded over his home, an irresistible desire for sleep seized Slimak. +He dragged himself to the stable, but he hesitated. He did not wish to +lie down once more by the side of his dead wife, and went into the +cowshed. Uneasy dreams pursued him; he dreamt that his dead wife was +trying to force herself into the cowshed. He got up and looked into the +stable. Slimakowa was lying there peacefully; two faint beams of light +were reflected from the eyes which had not yet been closed. + +A sledge stopped at the gate and Gryb came into the yard; his grey head +shook and his yellowish eyes moved uneasily. He was followed by his +man, who was carrying a large basket. + +'I am to blame,' he cried, striking his chest, 'are you still angry +with me?' + +'God give you all that you desire,' said Slimak, bowing low, 'you are +coming to me in my time of trouble.' + +This humility pleased the old peasant; he grasped Slimak's hand and +said in a more natural voice: 'I tell you, I am to blame, for his +Reverence told me to say that. Therefore I am the first to make it up +with you, although I am the elder. But I must say, neighbour, you did +annoy me very much. However, I will not reproach you.' + +'Forgive me the wrong I have done,' said Slimak, bending towards his +shoulder, 'but to tell you the truth, I cannot remember ever having +wronged you personally.' + +'I won't mince matters, Slimak. You dealt with those railway people +without consulting me.' + +'Look at what I have earned by my trading,' said Slimak, pointing to +his burnt homestead. + +'Well, God has punished you heavily, and that is why I say: I am to +blame. But when you came to church and your wife--God rest her +eternally--bought herself a silk kerchief, you ought to have treated me +to at least a pint of vodka, instead of speaking impertinently to me.' + +'It's true, I boasted too early.' + +'And then you made friends with the Germans and prayed with them.' + +'I only took off my cap. Their God is the same as ours.' + +Gryb shook his clenched fist in his face. + +'What! their God is the same as ours? I tell you, he must be a +different God, or why should they jabber to him in German? But never +mind,' he changed his tone, 'all that's past and gone. You deserve well +of us, because you did not let the Germans have your land. Hamer has +already offered me his farm for midsummer.' + +'Is that so?' + +'Of course it is so. The scoundrels threatened to drive us all away, +and they have smashed themselves against a small gospodarz of ten +acres. You deserve God's blessing and our friendship for that. God rest +your dead wife eternally! Many a time has she set you against me! I'll +bear her no grudge on that account, however. And here, you see, all of +us in the village are sending you some victuals.' + +Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Grochowski. + +'I wouldn't believe Jonah, when he came to tell me all this,' he said, +'and you here, Gryb, too? Where is the defunct?' + +They approached to the stable and knelt down in the snow. Only the +murmuring of their prayers and Slimak's sobs were audible for a while. +Then the men got up and praised the dead woman's virtues. + +'I am bringing you a bird,' then said Grochowski, turning to Gryb; 'he +is slightly wounded.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'It's your Jasiek. He attempted to steal my horses last night, and I +treated him to a little lead.' + +'Where is he?' + +'In the sledge outside.' + +Gryb ran off at a heavy trot. Blows and cries were heard, then the old +man reappeared, dragging his son by the hair. The strong young fellow +was crying like a child. He looked dishevelled and his clothes were +torn; a bloodstained cloth was tied round his hand. + +'Did you steal the Soltys' horses?' shouted his father. + +'How should I not have stolen them? I did steal them!' + +'Not quite,' said Grochowski, 'but he did steal Slimak's.' + +'What?' cried Gryb, and began to lay on to his son again. + +'I did, father. Leave off!' wailed Jasiek. + +'My God, how did this come about?' asked the old man. + +'That's simple enough,' sneered Grochowski, 'he found others as bad as +himself, and they robbed the whole neighbourhood, till I winged him.' + +'What do you propose to do now?' asked old Gryb between his blows. + +'I'll mend my ways.'...'I'll marry Orzchewski's daughter,' wailed +Jasiek. + +'Perhaps this is not quite the moment for that,' said Grochowski, +'first you will go to prison.' + +'You don't mean to charge him?' asked his father. + +'I should prefer not to charge him, but the whole neighbourhood is +indignant about the robberies. However, as he did not do me personally +any harm, I am not bound to charge him.' + +'What will you take?' + +'Not a kopek less than a hundred and fifty roubles.' + +'In that case, let him go to prison.' + +'A hundred and fifty to me, and eighty to Slimak for the horses.' + +Gryb took to his fists again. + +'Who put you up to this?' + +'Leave off!' cried Jasiek; 'it was Josel.' + +'And why did you do as he told you?' + +'Because I owe him a hundred roubles.' + +'Oh Lord!' groaned Gryb, tearing his hair. + +'Well, that's nothing to tear your hair about,' said Grochowski. 'Come; +three hundred and thirty roubles between Slimak, Josel, and me; what is +that to you?' + +'I won't pay it.' + +'All right! In that case he will go to prison. Come along.' He took the +youth by the arm. + +'Dad, have pity, I am your only son!' + +The old man looked helplessly at the peasants in turn. + +'Are you going to ruin my life for a paltry sum?' + +'Wait...wait,' cried Gryb, seeing that the Soltys was in earnest. He +took Slimak aside. + +'Neighbour, if there is to be peace between us,' he said, 'I'll tell +you what you will have to do.' + +'What?' + +'You'll have to marry my sister. You are a widower, she is a widow. You +have ten acres, she has fifteen. I shall take her land, because it is +close to mine, and give you fifteen acres of Hamer's land. You will +have a gospodarstwo of twenty-five acres all in one piece.' + +Slimak reflected for a while. + +'I think,' he said at last,' Gawdrina's land is better than Hamer's.' + +'All right! You shall have a bit more.' + +Slimak scratched his head. 'Well, I don't know,' he said. + +'It's agreed, then,' said Gryb, 'and now I'll tell you what you will +have to do in return. You will pay a hundred and fifty roubles to +Grochowski and a hundred to Josel.' + +Slimak demurred. + +'I haven't buried my wife yet.' + +The old man's temper was rising. + +'Rubbish! don't be a fool! How can a gospodarz get along without a +wife? Yours is dead and gone, and if she could speak, she would say: + +"Marry, Josef, and don't turn up your nose at a benefactor like Gryb."' + +'What are you quarrelling about?' cried Grochowski. + +'Look here, I am offering him my sister and fifteen acres of land, four +cows and a pair of horses, to say nothing of the household property, +and he can't make up his mind,' said Gryb, with awry face. + +'Why, that's certainly worth while,' said Grochowski, 'and not a bad +wife!' + +'Aye, a good, hefty woman,' cried Gryb. + +'You'll be quite a gentleman, Slimak,' added Grochowski. + +Slimak sighed. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'that Jagna did not live to see +this.' + +The agreement was carried out, and before Holy Week both Slimak and +Gryb's son were married. By the autumn Slimak's new gospodarstwo was +finished, and an addition to his family expected. His second wife not +unfrequently reminded him that he had been a beggar and owed all his +good fortune to her. At such times he would slip out of the house, lie +under the lonely pine and meditate, recalling the strange struggle, +when the Germans had lost their land and he his nearest and dearest. + +When everybody else had forgotten Slimakowa, Stasiek, Maciek, and the +child, he often remembered them, and also the dog Burek and the cow +doomed to the butcher's knife for want of fodder. + +Silly Zoska died in prison, old Sobieska at the inn. The others with +whom my story is concerned, not excepting old Jonah, are alive and +well. + + + + + + + + +A PINCH OF SALT + +BY + +ADAM SZYMANSKI + + +It was in the fourth year of my exile to the metropolis of the Siberian +frosts, a few days before Christmas, when one of our comrades and +fellow-sufferers, a former student at the university of Kiev, who +hailed from Little-Russia, called in to give us some interesting news. +One of his intimate friends--also an ex-student and +fellow-sufferer--was to pass through our town on his way back from a +far-distant Yakut aul,[1] where he had lived for three years; +he was due to arrive on Christmas Eve. + +[Footnote 1: _Aul: a hamlet_.] + +We had repeatedly met people who knew the life in the nearer Yakut +settlements; now and then we had seen temporary or permanent +inhabitants of the so-called Yakut 'towns' of Vjerchojansk, Vihijsk, +and Kalymsk. But the nearer auls and towns were populous centres of +human life in comparison to those far-off deserted and desolate places; +they gave one no conception of what the latter might be like. Certainly +the fact that the worst criminals, when they were sent to those +regions, preferred to return to hard labour rather than live in liberty +there, gave us an illustration of the charms of that life, yet it told +us nothing definite. + +Bad--we were told--very bad it was out there, but in what way bad it +was impossible to judge, even from the knowledge we had of life in less +remote regions. Who would venture to draw conclusions from the little +we knew as to the thousand small details which made up that grey, +monotonous existence? Who could clearly bring them before the +imagination? Only experience could reveal them in their appalling +nakedness. Of one thing we were certain, that was that in a measure as +the populousness decreases, and you move away in a centrifugal +direction from where we were, life becomes harder and more and more +distressing for human beings. In the south, on the wild high plateaus +of the Aldon; in the east, on the mountain slopes of the +Stanovoi-Chebret, where a single Tungus family constitutes the sole +population along a river of 300 versts; in the west on the desolate +heights of the Viluj, near the great Zeresej Lake; in the north at the +mysterious outlets of the Quabrera, the desert places of the Olensk, +Indigirika, and Kolyma, life becomes like a Danteesque hell, consisting +in nothing but ice, snow and gales, and lighted up by the lurid +blood-red rays of the northern light. + +But no! those deserts, equal in extent to the half of Europe, are only +the purgatory, not yet the real Siberian hell. You still find woods +there, poor, thin, dwarfed woods, it is true, but where there is wood +there is fire and vitality. The true hell of human torture begins +beyond the line of the woods; then there is nothing but ice and snow; +ice that does not even melt in the plains in summer--and in the midst +of that icy desert, miserable human beings thrown upon this shore by an +alien fate. + + + +I shall never forget the impression which any chance bit of information +on the characteristic features, the horrible details of that life, used +to make upon me. Even clearly defined facts and exact technical terms +bear quite a different aspect in the light of such unusual local +conditions. + +I have a vivid remembrance of a story told me by a former official; he +described to me how when he was stationed in V. as Ispravnik, 'a +certain gentleman' was sent out to him with orders to take him to the +settlement in Zaszyversk.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Pronounce: Zashiversk.] + +'You see, little brother,' said the ex-Ispravnik, 'the town of +Zaszyversk does exist. Even on a small map of Siberia you can easily +find it to the right of a large blank space; if you remember your +geography lessons you will even know that it is designated as "town out +of governmental bounds". An appointment to such a place means for an +official that he is expected to send in his resignation; as for the +towns, it means that they have been degraded by having ceased to be the +seat of certain local government. In this case there was a yet deeper +significance in the description, for the town of Zaszyversk does, as I +said, exist, but only in the imagination of cartographers and in +geography manuals, not in reality. So much so is it non-existent that +not a single house, not a yurta,[1] not a hovel marks the place which +is pointed out to you on the map. When I read the order I could not +believe my eyes, and though I was sober I reeled. I called another +official and showed him the curious document. + +[Footnote 1: Yurta: hut of the native Yakut.] + +'He was an old, experienced hand at the office, but when he saw this +order, the paper dropped from his hands. "Where to?" I asked. "To +Zaszyversk!" We looked at each other. Nice things that young man must +have been up to! There he stood, looked and listened and understood +nothing. + +'He was a handsome fellow but gloomy and stuck up. I asked him one +thing after another, was he in need of anything? and so on, but he +answered nothing but "Yes" or "No". Well, my little brother, I thought +to myself, you will soon sing a different tune! I ordered three troikas +to be brought round; he was put into the first with the Cossack who +escorted him, I was in the second with an old Cossack, who remembered +where this town of Zaszyversk had once stood, and the third contained +provisions; then we started. First we drove straight on for twenty-four +hours; during this time we still stopped at stations where we changed +horses, and we covered 200 versts. The second and third days we covered +150 versts, but we did not meet a living soul, and we spent the nights +in the large barnlike buildings without windows or chimneys and with +only a fireplace, which are found on the road; they are called +"povarnia". + +'Our prisoner was obviously beginning to feel rather bad, so he +addressed me from time to time; at last he tried to get information out +of me concerning the life in Zaszyversk. "How many inhabitants were +there? what was the town like? was there any chance of his finding +something to do there, perhaps private lessons?" But now it was my turn +to answer him: "Yes" or "No". On the fourth day, towards morning, we +entered upon a glacier. We had arrived in the region where the ice does +not disappear even in summer. When we had advanced ten versts on the +ice, the old Cossack showed me the place where sixty years ago a few +yurtas had stood which were called in geographical terms "Zaszyversk, +town out of governmental bounds". + +"Stop," I cried, "let the young gentleman get out; here we are! This is +the town of Zaszyversk...." + +'The man did not understand at once, he opened his eyes wide and +thought it was a joke, or that I had lost my reason. I had to explain +the situation to him.... At last he understood.' + +The ex-Ispravnik laughed dryly. 'Will you believe me or not?' he +continued. 'Look here, I swear by the cross'--he crossed himself +spaciously, bowing to the images of the saints--that fellow's eyes +became glassy... his jaws chattered as in a fever. It was a business! + +'And I, a tough old official, I put my hands to my forehead. You should +have seen how the gentleman's pride disappeared in a moment; he became +soft as wax and so humble... pliable as silk he was! + +'"I adjure you by the wounds of Christ," he cried, stretching out his +hands to me, "let the love of God come into your heart! I have not been +condemned to death, there is nothing very serious against me, I have +been too overbearing, that is all." + +'"Oh," I said, "well, you see, pride is a great sin." + +'And whether you will believe me or won't'--he crossed himself again--' +the man wept like a child when I told him I would take him to the +nearest Yakut yurta, at a distance of thirty versts from the town of +Zaszyversk, and I swear to you for the third time it was with joy that +he wept... although he was not much better off in that yurta....' + + + +It is easy to imagine how eagerly we received the news of the arrival +of a man who had actually been living somewhere at the end of the world +under conditions which had completely isolated him for three whole +years; yet it was said that he was returning into this world sound in +body and mind. We inhabitants of our own special town were not living +in the most enviable of circumstances either, but we all knew that they +were infinitely happier than they might have been. + +A passionate desire seized us to look upon that life out there in its +unveiled nakedness, its horrible cruelty. This curiosity meant more +than narrow selfishness; it had a special reason. + +The fact that a human being had been able to survive in that +far-distant world, bore witness to the strength and resistance of the +human spirit; the iron will and energy of the one doubled and steeled +the strength of all the others. + +What we had heard so far of those who were battling with their fate at +the end of the world had not been too comforting. Therefore the +question whether and how one could live and suffer there, was a vital +one for us. + +And now the news came unexpectedly that one of our own class, a man +closely allied to us by his intellectual development and a number of +ways and customs, had actually lived for three years in a yurta not +much better situated than the one behind the imaginary town of +Zaszyversk. This unknown youth, student of a university not our own, +became dear to us. We all--Russians, Poles, and Jews--bound together by +our common fate, made up our minds to celebrate his arrival, and as it +was timed for Christmas Eve, we were going to prepare a solemn feast in +his honour. + +As I was the one who had the greatest experience in culinary affairs, I +was charged with the arrangement of the dinner, supported by a young +student, and by the intense interest of the whole colony. I am sure +that neither I nor my dear scullion have ever in our lives before or +after worked as hard for two days in the kitchen as we did then. + +The student was not only a great collector of everything useful for our +daily life, he was also deeply versed in the knowledge of the Yakut in +general. While we were cooking and roasting we told one another the +most interesting things, and thus stimulated each other to such a +degree that the dinner, originally planned on simple lines, began to +assume Lucullian dimensions. + +We knew only too well how miserable the life in the nearest Yakut +yurtas was, that there was a want of the most necessary European food, +such as would be found in the poorest peasant's home; above all, the +want of bread--simple daily bread--was very pronounced among the poorer +populations. It was not surprising that we two, possessed by gloomy +pictures which we recalled to our memory, fell into a sort of +cooking-fever. Like a mother who remembers the favourite dishes of the +child she has not seen for a long time, and whom she expects home on a +certain day, we kept on racking our brains for, agreeable surprises for +our guest. One or the other would constantly ask: + +'What do you think, comrade, wouldn't he like this or that?' + +'Well, of course, he would thoroughly enjoy that. Just think, counting +the journeys, it must be a good five years since he has eaten food fit +for human beings.' + +'Shall we add that?' + +'All right!' + +And one of us ran to the market-place to fetch the necessary +ingredients from the shops, another secured kitchen utensils, and soon +another course enriched the menu. At last the supply of kitchen +utensils gave out, and want of time as well as physical exhaustion put +a stop to further exertions. Our enthusiasm had communicated itself to +all the participants of the feast, for they were all of a responsive +disposition, and declared themselves charmed with our inventiveness and +energy. I and my scullion were proud of our work. A huge fish, weighing +twenty pounds, which after much trouble we had succeeded in boiling +whole, was considered the crowning success of our labour and art. We +rightly anticipated that this magnificent fish, prepared with an +appallingly highly seasoned and salted sauce, would move the hardest +hearts. Also, we did not forget a small Christmas tree, and decorated +it as best we could in honour of our guest. + + + +At last the longed-for day came. The student started at dawn for the +nearest posting station to await the newcomer and bring him to us. +Before two o'clock, when it began to be dark, we were all assembled, +and soon after two the melancholy sound of the sleighbells announced +the arrival of the students. We hurriedly pulled on our furs and went +out. The sleigh and the travellers were entirely covered with snow, +long icicles hung from the horses' nostrils when they whipped into the +courtyard, they were covered with a fine crust of ice. Another moment +and they stood still in front of the door. Every man bared his +head...there were some who had grown grey in misery and sorrow. + + + +I will not describe our first greeting--I could not do so even if I +would. We did not know each other, and yet how near we felt! I doubt +whether it will ever fall to my share again to be one of a number of +human beings so different in birth and station in life, yet so nearly +related, so closely tied to each other as we were on the day when we +greeted our guest. + +He was small and thin--very thin. His complexion showed yellow and +black, much more than ours did; he seemed marked for life by an earthen +colour; his deeply sunk eyes were the only feature which was burning +with vitality, they had a phosphorescent glow. + +It had grown quite dark by the time he had changed his clothes and +warmed himself, and we were sitting down to our dinner. Noise and +vivacity predominated in our small abode; a cheerful mood rose like an +overflowing wave, washing away all signs of sorrow and bitterness. + +'Let us be cheerful!' + +Louder and louder this cry arose, now here, now there, and when our +guest took it up even the gloomiest faces brightened. We broke the +sacred wafer, then we emptied the first glasses. My industrious +scullion had been deeply moved by a folk-song from the Ukraine, one of +those songs rich in poetical feeling and simple metaphor which go +straight to the heart; he therefore got up to make the welcoming +speech, and, encouraged by the tears of joy which rose in the eyes of +our guest, he quite took possession of him. He told him that he and I +had worked uninterruptedly for two days and nights in the sweat of our +brows, so as to give him a noble repast after his many days of +privation and hunger; he forecast the whole menu, beginning with his +favourite Kutja, he drew close to him and put his arm round his neck, +laughing gaily, and seemingly inspiring him so that he wept tears of +joy. + +Our animated mood rose higher and higher. A storm of applause greeted +the first course. The student filled the guest's plate to the brim. At +last the harmonious rattle of the spoons replaced the laughing and +talking. 'Excellent,' was the universal verdict. + +My scullion was in raptures and loudly assented; finally he too became +silent and applied himself like us to his plate. + +But what in the name of God did this mean? We were all eating, only our +guest fumbled about with his spoon and stirred his soup without eating, +laughing the while with a suppressed, hardly audible laugh. + +'My God, what is it? why don't you eat, comrade?' several voices called +in unison. 'The scullion has been exciting him too much! Off with him! +Our guest must have serious people next to him.' The student obediently +changed places, and we turned to our food again. But still our guest +did not eat. + +What was the matter? We stopped eating and all eyes were turned +questioningly upon him. Our silent anxiety was sufficiently eloquent. +He perceived, felt it and said: + +'I... forgive me... I... my happiness... I am so sorry... I do not want +to trouble you, and I fear I shall spoil your pleasure. I beg you... I +entreat you, dear brothers, take no notice of me...it is nothing, it +will pass,' and he broke into a strange sobbing laugh. + +'Jesus, Mary!' we all cried, for we had not noticed before how +unnatural his laugh was; there was no further thought of eating; and +he, when he saw the general anxiety, mastered himself with an effort +and said rapidly amidst the general silence: + +'I thought you knew what the life was like that I have lived for three +years, but I see you don't know it; when I realized this I tried... +I... well, I tried while you were eating and drinking to swallow a +small piece of bread... just a tiny piece of bread... but I cannot do +it... I cannot! You see, for three years... three whole years I have +tasted no salt... I ate all my food without salt, and this bread is +rather salt--very salt in fact, it is burning and scorching me, and +probably all the other things are also very salt.' 'Certainly, some +were even salted too much in our haste and eagerness,' I answered +simultaneously with the student. + +'Well then, eat, beloved brothers, eat, but I cannot eat anything; I +shall watch you with great pleasure--eat, I beg you fervently!' and +with hysterical laughter and tears he sank back into his seat. + +Now we understood this laugh which was like a spasm.... + +Not one of us was able to swallow the food which he had in his mouth. + +The misery of the existence of which we had longed to know something +had lifted the veil off a small portion of its mysteries. + +We all dropped our spoons and hung our heads. + +How vain, how small appeared to us now the trouble we had taken about +the food, how clumsy our childish enjoyment! + +And while we looked at the ravaged face of our brother, convulsed with +spasmodic laughter and tears, a feeling of horror seized upon us.... + +We felt as if the spectre of death had risen from a lonely yurta +somewhere behind the lost town of Zaszyversk and was staring at us with +cold glassy eyes.... + +A dead silence brooded over the frightened assembly. + + + + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER + +A SIBERIAN SKETCH + +BY + +ADAM SZYMINSKI + + +I made his acquaintance accidentally; the chance which led to it was +caused by the peculiar conditions of the Yakut spring. My readers will +probably only have a very imperfect knowledge of the Yakut spring. + +From the middle of April onwards the sun begins to be pretty powerful +in Yakutsk; in May it hardly leaves the horizon for a few hours and is +roasting hot; but as long as the great Lena has not thrown off the +shackles of winter, and as long as the huge masses of unmelted snow are +lying in the taiga,[1] you can see no trace of spring. The snow is not +warmed by the earth, which has been frozen hard to the depth of several +feet, and this thick crust of ice opposes determined resistance to the +lifegiving rays, and only after long, patient labour does the sun +succeed in awakening to new life the secret depths of the taiga and the +queen of Yakut waters, 'Granny Lena', as the Yakut calls the great +river. + +[Footnote 1: Primaeval forest.] + +In the last days of the month of May, when this battle of vitalizing +warmth against the last remnants of the cruel winter is nearing its +end, the newly arrived European witnesses a scene which is without +parallel anywhere in the west. Every sound resembling a report, however +distant and indistinct, has a wonderful effect upon the people out in +the open; children and the aged, men and women are suddenly rooted to +the spot, turn to the east towards the river, crane their necks and +seem to be listening for something. + +If the peculiar sounds cease or turn out to be caused accidentally, +everybody quietly goes home. But if the reports continue, and swell to +such dimensions that the air seems filled with a noise like the firing +of great guns or the rolling of thunder, accompanied by subterranean +rushing like the coming of a great gale, then these silent people +become unusually animated. Joyful shouts of 'The ice is cracking! the +river is breaking! do you hear?' are heard from all sides; eagerly and +noisily the people run in all directions to carry the news into the +farthest cottages. Everybody knocks at the doors he passes, be they his +friends' or a stranger's; and calls out the magic word 'The Lena is +breaking!' These words spread like wildfire in many tongues through +far-off houses, yurtas and Yakut settlements, and whoever is able to +move puts on his furs and runs to the banks of the Lena. + +A dense crowd is thronging the banks, watching in fascination one of +the most beautiful natural phenomena in Siberia. + +Gigantic blocks of ice, driven down by the powerful waves of the broad +river, are packed to the height of houses--of mountains; they break, +they crash; covered with myriads of small needles of ice, they seem to +be floating in the sun, displaying a marvellous wealth of colour. + +But one must have lived here for at least one winter to understand what +it is that drives this crowd of human beings to the river banks. It is +not the magnificent display of nature that attracts them. + +In the long struggle against winter these people have exhausted all +their strength; for many months' they have been awaiting the vivifying +warmth with longing and impatience, now they hasten hither to witness +the triumph of the sun over the cruel enemy. + +An intense, almost childlike joy is depicted on the yellow faces of the +Yakuts, their broad lips smile good-naturedly and appear broader still, +their little black eyes glow like coals. The whole crowd is swaying as +if intoxicated. 'God be praised! God be praised!' they call to each +other, turn towards the huge icebergs which are now being destroyed by +the friendly element, and shout and rejoice over the defeat of the +merciless enemy, driven, crushed and annihilated by the inexorable +waves. + +When the ice-drifts on the Lena have come to an end, the earth quickly +thaws, although only to a depth of two feet. But nature makes the most +of the three months of warmth. Within a comparatively short time +everything develops and unfolds. + +The great plain of Yakutsk offers a charming spectacle; it is fertile, +and here and there cultivation already begins to show. Birchwoods, +small lakes, brushwood and verdant fields alternate and make the whole +country look like a large park, framed by the silver ribbon of the +Lena. The surrounding gloom of the taiga emphasizes the natural beauty +of the valley. This smiling plain in the midst of the wide expanse +reminds one of an oasis in the desert. + +The Yakut is by far the most capable of the Siberian tribes; he values +the gifts of the life-giving sun and enjoys them to the full. When he +escapes from his narrow, stinking winter-yurta he fills his hitherto +inhospitable country with life and movement; his energy is doubled, his +vitality pulsates with greater strength and intensity. When the +'Ysech', the feast of spring, is over, the animated mood of the +population does not abate in the least. The 'strengthening kumis', the +ambrosia of the Yakut gods, does not run dry in the wooden vessels, for +luxuriant grass covers the ground, and cows and mares give abundant +milk. + +The sight of the lovely plain and the joyful human beings delighting in +the summer had revived me also. This was my first summer in Yakutsk, +and I responded to it with my whole being. Daily I went for walks to +look at the beauty of the surrounding world, daily I took my sun bath. + + + +My walks usually led me to one of the Yakut yurtas; they are at long +distances from each other, lonely and scattered over the whole country. +You find them in whatever direction you may choose. + +Cold milk and kumis can be had in all these yurtas. It is true both +have the nasty smell which the stranger in this part of the world calls +'Yakut odour'; but during the long winter when milk other than from +Yakut yurtas was hard to procure, I had got used to this specific +smell, so that now it only produced a mild nausea. + +One of the many yurtas had taken my fancy, for it was charmingly +situated close to the woods in a corner of the raised banks of a long +stretch of lake. It belonged to an aged Yakut, well deserving of the +honourable designation 'ohonior', given to all the Yakut elders. + +The old man was living there with his equally aged wife and a young +fellow, a distant relation of his. Two cows and a calf, a few mares and +a foal constituted all their wealth. + +All the Yakuts are very inquisitive and loquacious. But my friend, the +honourable 'ohonior ', possessed these qualities in an unusually high +degree, and as he was able to speak broken Russian, I often took +occasion to call in for a little talk. + +First of all he wished to know who I was, where I came from and what +was my business here. Towards the Russians, whether strangers or +natives of Siberia, the Yakuts are always on their guard and +excessively obsequious. Every Russian, however poorly dressed, is +always the 'tojan', the master. Their behaviour towards the Poles, on +the other hand, is very friendly. No Yakut ever took the information +that I was not a Russian but a 'Bilak'--Polak--with indifference. + +'Bilak? Bilak? Excellent brother!' exclaimed even the most reticent +among them. The 'ohonior' and I therefore soon became friends, and when +he learned that in addition I was versed in the art of writing and +might be employed as secretary to the community and draw up petitions +to the 'great master'--the 'gubernator'--my value was immensely +increased, and this respect saved me from too great an intimacy. Owing +to this consideration I was always offered the best milk and kumis, and +when the old woman handed me a jug she carefully wiped it with her +fingers first, or removed every trace of dirt with her tongue. + +One day when I called in passing to drink my kumis, I found the +'ohonior' unusually excited; he was not only talkative, but also in +very great spirits. His tongue was a little heavy, although he showed +no sign of old age. It turned out that my honourable host had just +returned from the town, where he had indulged in vodka to warm his +feeble frame. + +'The Bilaks are good, are all good,' he stammered, while he crammed his +little pipe with tobacco, 'every Bilak is a clerk, or at least a +doctor, or even a smith, as good as a Yakut one. You are a good man +too, and you must be a good clerk; we all love the Bilaks, a Sacha[1] +never forgets that the Bilak is his brother. But will you believe it, +brother, it is not long since this is so? I myself was afraid of the +Bilaks as of evil spirits until about fifteen years ago, and yet I am +so old that the calves have grazed off the meadows seventy times before +my eyes. When I saw a Bilak, I would run like a hare wherever my feet +would carry me--into the wood or into the bushes, never mind where, so +long as I could escape from him. And not only I but everybody dreaded +the Bilaks, for, you see, people told each other dreadful things about +them, that they had horns and slew everybody, and so on.' + +[Footnote 1: The name by which the Yakuts call themselves.] + +I ascertained that these fairy-tales had had their origin in the town, +and reproached the old man for his credulity, but he bridled up at +once. + +'Goodness gracious! do you think we believed all that on hearsay? I +don't know about other people, but I and all my neighbours believed it +because our forefathers knew for certain that every Bilak was terrible +and dangerous.' + +The old man refreshed himself from the jug and continued: + +'Do you see, it was like this. My father was not yet born, my +grandfather was a little fellow for whom they were still collecting the +"Kalym"[1] when there came to this neighbourhood a Bilak with eyes of +ice,[2] a long beard and long moustaches; he settled here, not in the +valley but up on yonder mountainside in the taiga. That was not taiga, +as you see it now, but thick and wild, untouched by any axe. There the +Bilak found an empty yurta and settled in it.' + +[Footnote 1: The price for the future wife which is paid in cattle and +horses; it is collected early in the boy's life.] + +[Footnote 2: The black-eyed Yakuts speak thus of the blue-eyed races.] + +'But he had no sooner gone to live there than the taiga became +impassable at a distance of ten versts round the cottage. The Bilak ran +about with his gun in his hand, and when he caught sight of anyone he +covered him with his gun, and unless the man ran away he would pop at +him--but not for fun, he didn't mind whom he shot, even if it were a +Cossack. What he lived on? The gods of the taiga know! Nobody else did. +Every living thing shunned him like the plague. Those who caught sight +of him in the forest when he ran about like a devil said that at first +he wore clothes such as the Russian gentlemen wear who know how to +write, but later on he was dressed in skins which he must have tanned +himself. People said he got to look more and more terrible and wild. +His beard grew down to his waist, his face got paler and paler and his +eyes burnt like flames. Some years passed. Then one winter, at the time +of the worst frosts, when a murderous "chijus" broke,[1] he was not +seen for several days. As a rule he had been observed from a distance, +so the people gave notice in the town that someone should come and +ascertain what had happened to him. + +[Footnote 1: A column of frozen air, moving southwards. After a chijus, +corpses of frozen people are generally found.] + +'They came and closed in upon the cottage carefully. There was the +Bilak on the bed in his furs, all covered with snow, and in his hand he +held a cross. The Bilak was dead; perhaps hunger had killed him, +perhaps the frost, or maybe the devil had taken him. Now tell me, was +there no reason for us to be afraid of the Bilaks? Here was only a +single one who drove all the neighbourhood to flight, and now all of a +sudden a great many of you arrived? He! he! he! You know how to write, +brother, but you are yet very young! So you thought people had no good +reasons for their fears? Well, you see, you were mistaken. A Sacha is +cleverer than he looks!' + + + +This legend of a Pole who could not bear to look upon human beings--a +legend I repeatedly heard again later--made a deep impression upon me. +These woods, these fields where I was walking now had perhaps been +haunted by the unfortunate man, driven mad and wild with excess of +sorrow. + +Had his troubles been beyond endurance or had he been unable to bear +the sight of human wickedness and human misery? Or was it the +separation from his home, from those dear to him, that had broken him? + +Dominated altogether by these thoughts, I returned to the town without +paying heed to anything around me. I was walking fast, almost at a run, +when a long-drawn call coming from somewhere close by struck upon my +ear: + +'Kallarra! Kallarra!' + +At first I neither understood the call nor whence it came, but on +frequent repetition it dawned upon me that it proceeded from the bushes +at a little distance in front of me, and that it was meant to be the +Yakut call 'Come here, come here, brother!' I even divined, as I came +nearer, what manner of man it was that was calling. No Yakut, no +Russian, be he a native or a settler, could have mispronounced this +Yakut word so badly; it should have been 'Kelere!' + +Only my countrymen, the Masurs, could do such violence to the +beautiful, sonorous Yakut language. During my long sojourn in Yakutsk I +have never met a Masurian peasant who pronounced this word otherwise +than 'Kallarra'. + +Indeed, there he was, behind the bushes beyond a bridge spanning the +marsh or dried-up arm of the Lena--a man in the ordinary clothes of +deported criminals; he agitated his arms violently, and continually +repeated his call 'Kallarra'! + +This was addressed to a Yakut who became visible on the outskirts of +the brushwood, but it was in vain, for the wary Yakut had no intention +of drawing nearer. The caller must have realized this, for when he +arrived at the bridge he called once more 'Kalare! you dog!' Then he +ceased and only swore to himself: 'May you burst, may you swell, you +son of a dog!' + +When he noticed me, he stood still. I came up to him and greeted him in +Polish, 'Praised be Jesus Christ!' + +The peasant could not get over his amazement. + +'Oh Jesus! where do you come from, sir?' he cried. + +We soon made friends. He lived somewhere in an uluse,[1] and had gone +into the town to hire himself out for work in the gold mines; he had +secured work and was to start at once, driving a herd of cattle to his +new abode. He was grazing them when I met him, and as some of them had +gone astray, and he was unable to drive them all across the bridge +singlehanded, he was waiting for someone to come along and help him. I +gladly lent him a hand, and when the herd had been got across the +bridge and was quietly going along, we began to talk. I asked him with +whom he was lodging. + +[Footnote 1: A settlement consisting of several yurtas.] + +'With Kowalski,' he said. + +I knew all the Poles in Yakutsk, but I had never heard of Kowalski. + +'Well, I mean Kowalski the carpenter.' + +Still I did not know whom he meant. + +'Who are his friends? whom does he go to see?' I inquired. + +'He is peculiar. They all know him, but he does not go to see them.' + +'How do you mean: he does not go to see them?' + +'How should he go to see them? He has got clump feet, he has lost his +toes with frostbite. When the wounds are closed he can just manage, but +when they are open he cannot even move about in his room.' + +'How does he manage to live?' + +'He does a little carpentering; he has a beautiful workshop and all +sorts of tools, but I tell you when he can't stand on his feet he can't +do carpentering. Then he is glad when people come and give him orders +for brushes--he can make beautiful brushes as well--for sweeping rooms +or for brushing clothes. But the rooms here are not swept much, and +people rarely brush their clothes either. Now he is ill again.' + +'Where does he come from? How long has he been here?' + +'He has been here a long time, there were only a few like us when he +came. But where he comes from, who he is--I see you don't know +Kowalski, or else you wouldn't ask. For you see, when I ask him, or one +of the gentlemen, or even the priest, who comes from Irkutsk, he only +answers: "Brother, God knows very well who I am and where I come from, +but it serves no purpose and is quite unnecessary that you should know +it too!" There you are! That's like him. So nobody asks him.' + +I inquired very particularly all the same where Kowalski lived. In my +imagination the 'Bilak' of the legend who fled from men and this lonely +carpenter were blended into one personality, I could not say why. I +felt that there must be a mysterious connexion as between all things +repeating themselves in the circle of time. Perhaps the great sorrow +which--I imagined--had died at the death of the Bilak was still living +on quite close to me, in a different shape, but just as great, no less +unbearable and fateful to him in whom it now dwelt. + + + +Since that day I had often guided my steps in the direction of +Kowalski's yurta. No fresh shavings were added to the old ones lying +about near the door and the little windows. They grew drier and blacker +every day; perhaps the man who had thrown them there.... I had not the +courage to enter. I kept on waiting for another day when perhaps fresh +shavings would be added, but none appeared and no noises of work were +audible. + +At last I made up my mind not to put it off any longer. I left my home +with this decision and had already reached a corner of his yurta, when +I heard a trembling, weak but pleasant voice singing. + +I sat down on the bench in front of the yurta, and I could distinctly +hear every word of a sentimental, gently melancholy little ditty which +had once been very popular in Poland: + + 'When the fields are fresh and green. + And the spring revives the world.' + +But after the third verse the singing suddenly ceased and a voice +called out gloomily: + +'Doggy, go and bark at the Almighty!' + +At first I did not know what this peculiar command meant, but after a +short pause I heard the thin bark of a dog, and as the gate of the +enclosure was open I drew nearer and saw in the wide open door of the +yurta a small black dog, tiny and light, repeatedly raising itself on +its hindlegs and barking up at the blue sky while it jumped and turned +about. + +Of course I went away and put off my visit to a more suitable occasion. + + + +At last I saw him. He was of middle stature, quite greyheaded, and he +looked very neglected. The ashen complexion common to all exiles +distinguished him in a high degree, so that it gave me pain to look +into his face with the black shadows. + +If he had not been talking, and moving about, it would have been hard +to guess that one was looking at a living being. And yet, glances like +lightning would sometimes dart from the large eyes surrounded by broad, +dark circles, and they showed that death had not yet numbed the inner +life of this moving corpse, but that he was still capable of emotion. + +As long as he was sitting I could bear the sight of his suffering face, +but when he got up I had to turn away my eyes, for then his clump-feet +seemed to cause him the greatest agony. + +He spoke Polish correctly and with a pure accent. He carefully avoided +any direct or indirect allusion to his past, and shrank equally from +information about his native country. He talked exclusively about the +present, principally about his dog, with whom he held long +conversations. Only once in the course of the few weeks during which I +visited him did he get animated: that was when I mentioned Plotsk; his +eyes shone as with a hidden fire while he asked: 'Do you know that +part?' + +I answered that I had lived there for a year, and he said, half to +himself: + +'I suppose it is all quite changed, so many years have passed. You +probably were not born at the time when I came to Siberia. In what part +of the province did you stay?' + +'Not far from Raciaz.' + +He opened his mouth, but he felt he had said too much, or that I was +listening with curiosity; enough--he only uttered a long-drawn 'Oh...' +and was silent again. + +This was the only allusion Kowalski ever made to his past. I felt +inclined to draw him out, but he knew how to parry these attempts in a +delicate way by calling his dog and saying to him while he caressed +him: 'Go, bark at the Almighty!' And the obedient creature would +continue for a long time to bark at the sky. + +As soon as Kowalski gave this order, it was a sure sign that he would +not open his mouth except for conversation about his dog, of which he +never tired. + +Although this dog was quite ordinary, he was in several ways +distinguished from his Yakut brothers. For one thing he had no name and +was simply addressed as 'Doggy', though he was his master's pet and was +attached to the house and enclosure. + +'Why didn't you give your dog a name?' I asked casually. + +'What's the good of a name? If people had not invented so many names +and called each other simply "Man", they would perhaps remember better +that we are all men together.' + +So the dog remained nameless. He was of a graceful and delicate build +and fast, quite unlike the heavier, thickset, thick-coated native dogs; +his hair was short, soft, and silky. His appearance had condemned him +to an isolated and lonely life. Attempts at participation in the canine +social life had failed deplorably; he had returned from these +expeditions lame and bleeding all over, and after some vain repetitions +he had given up the hope of satisfying his social instincts and did not +leave the enclosure any more. He was surprisingly sedate for his +delicate organism and thin, mobile little frame, but this was not the +calm sedateness of the strong, shaggy Yakut dogs, against whom he +obviously harboured a certain hatred and bitterness, because these big, +powerful creatures would not recognize the rights of the weak. Except +for his master, he showed no affection for anyone and accepted no +favours--perhaps he had no belief in them, and only responded to a +caress with a low growl. + + + +Some weeks passed and Kowalski was no better, on the contrary he seemed +to get worse with every day, and we were all convinced that this +illness was his last. God knows whether he was equally convinced, but +he certainly had a foreboding of his death, for he hardly ever talked +now. For a few days longer he obstinately struggled against the +weakness which was overpowering him, and walked about his yurta, even +tinkered at some brushes which he had begun; at last he gave it up and +took to his bed. One morning, when I had just sat down to my breakfast, +the locksmith Wladyslaw Piotrowski, Kowalski's nearest friend, came to +my window and asked me to accompany him to our patient. + +'It might ease his last hour when he sees that he is not quite +forsaken,' said the kind man. 'Perhaps you would like to take a book +with you,' he added. I took the New Testament and went with him. + +'Is he so very bad?' I asked on the way. + +'I should think so; he looks quite black and says himself that he is +sure he will die to-day.' + +We soon arrived at Kowalski's yurta. There was no trace of the usual +sick-room smell of medicines, for Kowalski believed neither in doctors +nor in medicines. But an air of sadness and desolation pervaded the +room. The little dog lay curled up under the bed, from which, +notwithstanding the open window, an unpleasant smell reminded one that +the sick man was no longer able to get up. + +He looked so unlike a living being that we concluded, on entering and +seeing him lying there with his eyes closed, that he was dead. The +locksmith went up to the bed, put his hand under the bedclothes and +touched his feet; they were cold. But Kowalski called out loudly and +emphatically as I had never heard him before: + +'I am alive! I am glad that you have come, for I should like to speak +to you of death.' + +The haste and anxiety with which these words were uttered bore out our +premonition that we had only just come in time; we looked at each +other; Kowalski caught this look and understood it. + +'I know,' he said, 'that I shall die soon, it would be vain to hide +from myself what I can see quite clearly. That is why I want to speak +to you. I was afraid no one would come... I was afraid no one would +hear what I have got to say and that he whom you call the Merciful God +would take away my power of speech... I thank you for your thought. May +you not be lonely either when your hour of death calls you from an +unhappy life.' + +Kowalski stopped; only his brow, which was alternately contracted and +smoothed, showed that the dying man was trying with his last remnant of +strength to collect his thoughts and to retain the last spark of life. + +It was early morning, and the sun threw two great sheaves of golden +rays through the window on to the wall where the bed stood. From the +wide expanse of fields and the archipelago of islands in the river, +redolent with luxurious vegetation, life and the echoes of life and +movement emanated like a melodious song, a great hymn of thanksgiving +in the bright sunshine; it penetrated to the bed of the dying man and +formed an indescribable contrast to what was passing inside the yurta. + +This brightness, this noise as of a great song of life, was like an +irony, like scorn levelled at the deathbed of this living corpse.... + + + +Meanwhile Kowalski had begun to speak. + +'Long ago,' he said--'it must be about forty years--I was exiled to the +steppes of Orenburg. I was young and strong, I trusted in God and had +confidence in men and in myself. I may have been right or I may have +been wrong, but I thought it was my duty not to leave my energy to the +chance of fate, but to try and find a wider field of activity than was +open to me in this country. Homesickness too urged me on, and after two +years I escaped.... + +'I was punished by being sent to Tomsk, but this did not daunt me. I +started my life afresh with renewed energy, lived on bread and water +until I had saved enough for what I needed, and escaped again.... + +'For this second flight I was punished as an obstinate backslider, and +it took several years before I could make another attempt, but that +time I got farther away than before. It was an unusually hard winter, I +had no money and only insufficient clothing. My feet were frostbitten, +and I lost my toes. That was a hard blow, especially as they sent me +beyond the Yenessi this time. + +'My situation was difficult; the country was dreary and desolate, it +was hard to earn a living. But although I had no toes I managed to +learn a trade or two, and one or the other used to bring me in a little +income, small but sure. + +'This time I waited six years, then, without regard for the state of my +feet, I started off again.... + +'You see, I had no more confidence in my strength. I was ill and +broken, it was not the same goal as before that drew me westwards.... I +wanted to die there... to die there.... + +'I dreamt of dying on my mother's grave as of a great happiness. + +'My life had been such that no one except my mother had ever been good +to me; I had had no sweetheart, no wife, no children.... + +'And now, feeling weak and forsaken, I longed for the grave of this one +being who had loved me. + +'In sleepless nights I felt her hand touching my head, her kiss and the +hot tears with which she took her last leave of me, conscious perhaps +that our separation would be eternal. I do not know even now whether +the longing for my mother or for my native land was the stronger. But +it was a hard pilgrimage this time. I could not walk fast because of +the wounds on my feet which kept breaking open. I often had to hide for +days in the woods like a wild animal. + +'Vultures and crows[1]--ill omens of the end--circled over my head, +scenting their prey. Worn out with hunger I broke down from time to +time, and...fool that I was, I always prayed. I implored the Almighty +God, the merciful God, the just God, the God of the poor, the God of +the forsaken: + +[Footnote 1: Siberian fugitives look upon them with superstition.] + +'"Help me, have mercy on me! Gracious Father! send me death, I ask for +no other mercy than death! I will give it to myself, but only +there...." + +'Two years passed before I reached the province of Perm. I had never +before got so far. My heart began to beat joyously, in my head there +was only one thought: "I shall see my beloved native soil, and I shall +die at my beloved mother's grave." When I left the Ural behind me I +definitely believed in my salvation, I threw myself down upon the +ground, and for a long, long time I lay there, sobbing and thanking God +for His grace and His mercy. But He, the Merciful, was only preparing +His last blow, and that same day.... Then they took me as far as +Yakutsk!... + +'Why did I live on so long in this misery? + +'Why did I wait here for such an end as this? + +'Because I wanted to see what God intended to do to me. 'Now see what +He has made of a human being who trusted Him like a child, who has +never known what happiness in this world meant, nor demanded it, who +has never received love from anyone but his mother and, although maimed +and crippled, has worked hard until the end, never stretched out his +hands for alms, never stolen or coveted his neighbours' possessions, +who has ever given away the half of what he had... see what He has made +of me!... + +'That is why I hate Him, no longer trust in Him....I don't believe in +His Saints or His Judgment or His Justice; hear me, brothers, I call +you to witness in the hour of my death, so that you should know it and +can testify to it before Him when you die.' + +He raised himself with an effort, stretched out his hands towards the +sun and called with a loud voice: + +'I, a dying worm, truly acknowledge Thee to be the God of the satiated, +the God of the wicked, the God of the impure, and that Thou hast ruined +me, a guiltless man!...' + + + +The sun had risen higher and was now gilding the bed of pain of this +living skeleton--terrible to behold in his loose skin. + +When he sank back exhausted, we were shocked, for we thought that he +would give up the ghost before we had time to comfort him and ease his +last hour. + +'Let us pray for him,' whispered the locksmith. We knelt down; with +trembling hands I pulled out the book; it opened of itself where a +bookmarker had been placed at the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of +St. John. + +Raising my voice I began to read: + +'I am the true Vine and My Father is the Husbandman.' + +The dying man's chest heaved violently, his eyes were closed. He was +now quite covered by the golden rays; it seemed as if the sun meant to +reward him at the last moment for his hard life, so closely did the +rays hug him, warming his stiff limbs, calming him, kissing him as a +mother kisses and caresses her drowsy child and wraps it round with her +own warmth. + +Kowalski was still alive. + +I continued to read the words of Christ, so full of power and faith and +deep, blessed hope: + +'If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated +you...' + +The inspiring words of the Comforter of sufferers and the caress of the +vivifying light eased the dying man's pain. He opened his eyes and two +great tears welled forth--the last tears which this man had to spare. + +The rays of the sun kissed the tears on his ashen countenance and made +them shine with divine light; it seemed as if they endeavoured to +present to their Creator in pure colours the burning fire which had +consumed this man and was concentrated in his tears. + +I read on: + +'Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the +world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall +be turned into joy...' + +The dying man tried to lift his hands, they fell back powerless, but he +murmured in a low, distinct voice: 'Lord, by Thy pain forgive me!' + +I could not read further. In silence we knelt, and the dog stood +between us, puzzled and looking at his master. Once more the dying +man's eyes turned towards us, he opened his mouth, and we heard him say +yet more slowly and weakly: 'Doggy, do not bark at the Almighty.' + +The faithful creature threw himself whining upon his master's limp +hand, from which the life had already fled. + +Kowalski's eyes closed, a short, dull rattle came from his throat, his +chest sank back, he stretched himself a little: the life of suffering +was ended. + + + +When we recovered ourselves we heard the violent barking of the dog, +who, without understanding his master's last wish, was faithfully +carrying out the sole duty of his life. He barked and growled +incessantly, and came back from time to time to the bed and his +master's limply hanging hand in expectation of the usual caress. + +But his master lay immovable, the cold hand hung stiffly; exhausted and +hoarse the dog ran out again into the enclosure. + +We left; but at a long distance from the yurta we could still hear the +barking of the senseless creature. + + + + +FOREBODINGS + + +TWO SKETCHES BY + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI[1] + +[Footnote 1: The accent on the Z softens the sound approximately to +that of the French g in _gele_.] + + + + +I had spent an hour at the railway station, waiting for the train to +come in. I had stared indifferently at several ladies in turn who were +yawning in the corners of the waiting-room. Then I had tried the effect +of making eyes at a fair-haired young girl with a small white nose, +rosy cheeks, and eyes like forget-me-nots; she had stuck out her tongue +(red as a field-poppy) at me, and I was now at a loss to know what to +do next to kill time. + +Fortunately for me two young students entered the waiting-room. They +looked dirty from head to foot, mud-bespattered, untidy, and exhausted +with travelling. One of them, a fair boy with a charming profile, +seemed absent-minded or depressed. He sat down in a corner, took off +his cap, and hid his face in his hands. His companion bought his ticket +for him, sat down beside him, and grasped his hand from time to time. + +'Why should you despair? All may yet be well. Listen, Anton.' + +'No, it's no good, he is dying, I know it.... I know... perhaps he is +dead already.' + +'Don't believe it! Has your father ever had this kind of attack +before?' + +'He has; he has suffered from his heart for three years. He used to +drink at times. Think of it, there are eight of us, some are young +children, and my mother is delicate. In another six months his pension +would have been due. Terribly hard luck!' + +'You are meeting trouble half-way, Anton.' + +The bell sounded, and the waiting-room became a scene of confusion. +People seized their luggage and trampled on each other's toes; the +porter who stood at the entrance-door was stormed with questions. There +was bustle and noise everywhere. I entered the third-class carriage in +which the fair-haired student was sitting. His friend had put him into +it, settling him in the corner-seat beside the window, as if he were an +invalid, and urging him to take comfort. It did not come easy to him, +the words seemed to stick in his throat. The fair-haired boy's face +twitched convulsively, and his eyelids closed over his moist eyes. + +'Anton, my dear fellow,' the other said, 'well, you understand what I +mean; God knows. You may be sure... confound it all!' + +The second bell sounded, and then the third. The sympathizing friend +stepped out of the carriage, and, as the train started, he waved an odd +kind of farewell greeting, as if he were threatening him with his +fists. + +In the carriage were a number of poor people, Jews, women with +enormously wide cloaks, who had elbowed their way to their seats, and +sat chattering or smoking. + +The student stood up and looked out of the window without seeing. Lines +of sparks like living fire passed by the grimy window-pane, and balls +of vapour and smoke, resembling large tufts of wool, were dashed to +pieces and hurried to the ground by the wind. The smoke curled round +the small shrubs growing close to the ground, moistened by the rain in +the valley. The dusk of the autumn day spread a dim light over the +landscape, and produced an effect of indescribable melancholy. Poor +boy! Poor boy! + +The loneliness of boundless sorrow was expressed in his weary look as +he gazed out of the window. I knew that the pivot on which all his +emotions turned was the anxiety of uncertainty, and that beyond the +bounds of conscious thought an unknown loom was weaving for him a +shadowy thread of hope. He saw, he heard nothing, while his vacant eyes +followed the balls of smoke. As the train travelled along, I knew that +he was miserable, tired out, that he would have liked to cry quietly. +The thread of hope wound itself round his heart: Who could tell? +perhaps his father was recovering, perhaps all would be well? + +Suddenly (I knew it would come), the blood rushed from his face, his +lips went pale and tightened; he was gazing into the far distance with +wide-open eyes. It was as if a threatening hand, piercing the grief, +loneliness and dread that weighed on him, was pointing at him, as if +the wind were rousing him with the cry: 'Beware!' His thread of hope +was strained to breaking-point, and the naked truth, which he had not +quite faced till that minute, struck him through the heart like a +sword. + +Had I approached him at that instant, and told him I was an omniscient +spirit and knew his village well, and that his father was not lying +dead, he would have fallen at my feet and believed, and I should have +done him an infinite kindness. + +But I did not speak to him, and I did not take his hand. All I wished +to do was merely to watch him with the interest and insatiable +curiosity which the human heart ever arouses in me. + + + + 'Let my fate go whither it listeth.' (_Oedipus Tyrannus_.) + +In the darkest corner of the ward, in the bed marked number +twenty-four, a farm labourer of about thirty years of age had been +lying for several months. A black wooden tablet, bearing the words +'Caries tuberculosa', hung at the head of the bed, and shook at each +movement of the patient. The poor fellow's leg had had to be amputated +above the knee, the result of a tubercular decay of the bone. He was a +peasant, a potato-grower, and his forefathers had grown potatoes before +him. He was now on his own, after having been in two situations; had +been married for three years and had a baby son with a tuft of flaxen +hair. Then suddenly, from no cause that he could tell, his knee had +pained him, and small ulcers had formed. He had afforded himself a +carriage to the town, and there he had been handed over to the hospital +at the expense of the parish. + +He remembered distinctly how on that autumn afternoon he had driven in +the splendid, cushioned carriage with his young wife, how they had both +wept with fright and grief, and when they had finished crying had eaten +hard-boiled eggs: but what had happened after that had all become +blurred--indescribably misty. Yet only partially so. + +Of the days in the hospital with their routine and monotony, creating +an incomprehensible break in his life, his memory retained nothing; but +the unchanging grief, weighing like a slab of stone on a grave, was +ever present in his soul with inexorable and brutal force during these +many months. He only half recalled the strange wonders that had been +worked on him: bathing, feeding, probing into the wound, and later on +the operation. He had been carried into a room full of gentlemen +wearing aprons spotted with blood; he was conscious also of the +mysterious, intrepid courage which, like a merciful hand, had supported +him from that hour. + +After having gazed at the awe-inspiring phenomena which surrounded him +in the semicircle of the hospital theatre, he had slept during the +operation. His simple heart had not worked out the lesson which sleep, +the greatest mistress on earth, teaches. After the operation everything +had been veiled by mortal lassitude. This had continued, but in the +afternoon and at night they had mixed something heavy, like a stone +ball, into his drinking-cup, and waves of warmth had flowed to the toes +of his healthy foot from the cup. Thoughts chased one another swiftly, +like tiny quicksilver balls through some corner of his brain, and while +he lay bathed in perspiration, and his eyelids closed of their own +accord, not in sleep but in unconsciousness, he had been pursued by +strange, half-waking visions. + +Everything real seemed to disappear, only dimly lighted, vacant space +remained, pervaded by the smell of chloroform. He seemed to be in the +interior of a huge cone, stretching along the ground like a tunnel. Far +away in the distance, where it narrowed towards the opening, there was +a sparkling, white spot; if he could get there, he might escape. He +seemed to be travelling day and night towards that chink along unending +spiral lines running within the surface of the tunnel; he travelled +under compulsion and with great effort, slowly, like a snail, although +within him something leapt up like a rabbit caught in a snare, or as if +wings were fluttering in his soul. He knew what was beyond that chink. +Only a few steps would lead him to the ridge under the wood... to his +own four strips of potato-field! And whenever he roused himself +mechanically from his apathy he had a vision of the potato-harvest. The +transparent autumn-haze in the fields was bringing objects that were +far off into relief, and making them appear perfectly distinct. He saw +himself together with his young wife, digging beautiful potatoes, large +as their fists. + +On the hillock, amid the stubble, the herdsmen were assembled in +groups, their wallets slung round them; they were crouching on their +heels, had collected dry juniper and lighted a fire; with bits of +sticks they were scraping out the baked potatoes from the ashes. The +rising smoke scented the air fragrantly with juniper. + +At times, when he was better and more himself, when the fever tormented +him less, he sank into the state of timidity and apprehension known +only to those harassed almost beyond human endurance and to the dying. +Fear oppressed him till his whole being shrank into something less than +the smallest grain; he was hurled by fearful sounds and overawing +obsessions into a bottomless abyss. + +At last the wound on his foot began to heal, and the fever to abate. +His mind returned from that other world to the familiar one, and to +reflecting on what was taking place before his eyes. But the nature of +these reflections had changed. Formerly he had felt self-pity arising +from terror; now it was the wild hatred of the wounded man, his +overpowering desire for revenge; his rage turned as fiercely even upon +the unfortunate ones lying beside him as upon those who had maimed him. +But another idea had taken even more powerfully possession of his mind; +his thoughts darted forward like a pack of hounds on the trail, in +frantic pursuit of the power which had thus passed sentence on him. + +This condition of lonely self-torment lasted a long while, and +increased his exasperation. + +And then, one day, he noticed that his healthy foot was growing stiff +and the ankle swelling. When the head-surgeon came on his daily rounds, +the patient confided his fear to him. The doctor examined the emaciated +limb, unobserved lanced the abscess, perceived that the probe reached +to the bone, rubbed his hands together and looked into the peasant's +face with a sad, doubtful look. + +'This is a bad job, my good fellow. It may mean the other foot; was +that what you were thinking of? And you are a bad subject. But we will +do it for you here; you will be better off than in your cottage, we +will give you plenty to eat.' And he passed on, accompanied by his +assistant. At the door he turned back, bent over the sick man, and +furtively, so that no one should see, passed his hand kindly over his +head. + +The peasant's mind became a blank; it was as if someone had unawares +dealt him a blow in the dark with a club. He closed his eyes and lay +still for a long time... until an unknown feeling of calm came over +him. + +There is an enchanted, hidden spot in the human soul, fastened with +seven locks, which no one and nothing but that picklock, bitter +adversity, can open. + +Through the lips of the self-blinded Oedipus, Sophocles makes mention +of this secret place. Within it are hidden marvellous joy, sweet +necessity, the highest wisdom. + +As the poor fellow lay silently on his bed, the special conception that +arose in his mind was that of Christ walking on the waves of the raging +sea, quelling the storm. + +Henceforward through long nights and wretched days he was looking at +everything from an immeasurable distance, from a safe place, where all +was calm and wholly well, whence everything seemed small, slightly +ludicrous and foolish, and yet lovable. + +'And may the Lord Jesus...may He give His peace to all people,' he +whispered to himself. 'Never mind, this will do as well for me!' + + + + + +A POLISH SCENE + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT[1] + +[Footnote 1: The stroke softens the l approximately to the sound of w.] + + +[The place is a solitary inn in Russian Poland, near the Prussian +frontier, kept by a Jew named Herszlik, part of whose occupation is to +smuggle emigrants for America by night across the border. Besides +emigrants and Herszlik are present an old beggar man and his wife or +'doxy', a couple of peasants drinking together, and Jan (or, in +diminutive form, Jasiek), a youth who has just escaped from a prison to +which he had been sentenced for an attack, under great provocation, on +a steward, and now creeps into the inn out of the surrounding forest.] + + + + +It was a night of March, a night of rain, cold, and tempest. + +The forest, cramped, stiff, soaked to its marrow, and agitated now and +then by an icy shiver, threw out its boughs in a sort of feverish panic +as if to shake the water from them, and roared the wild note of a +creature in torture. At times a damp snow stilled all to helpless +silence, broken by a passing groan or the cry of some frozen bird or +rattle of some body falling on the boughs. Then once more the wind +flung itself with fury on the woods, dug into their depths with its +teeth, tore off boughs, and with a roar of triumph whistled along the +glades and swept the forest as with a besom; or from out of the depths +of space huge mud-coloured clouds, like piles of rotting hay, strangled +the trees in their embrace, or dissolved in a cold unceasing drizzle +that might have penetrated a stone. The roads were deserted, flooded +with a mixture of mud and foul snow; the villages seemed dead, the +fields shrivelled, the rivers ice-fettered; man and life were to be +seen nowhere; night ruled alone. + +Only in the single inn of Przylecki shone a small light; it stood in +the middle of the forest at cross roads; a few cottages were visible on +the side of a hill: the rest was the mighty forest. + +Jasiek Winciorek pushed forward cautiously from the wood to the road, +and at sight of the blinking light walked stealthily to the window, +peeped in, then in timid perplexity drew back a few steps till a fresh +blast of wind froze him so that the poor boy turned back once more, +crossed himself, and entered. + +The inn was large, with a floor of clay, and a black ceiling resting on +walls out of the perpendicular; these had lost their whitewash, and +were pierced by two small windows half-choked up with straw. Directly +opposite the latter, behind a wooden railing, stood a cask resting on +other barrels, above which smoked the red glare of a naphtha lamp. Over +the room lay a dense darkness, only lightened now and then with flashes +from an expiring fire in a large old-world fire-place, before which sat +a pair of beggars. In a corner might be seen a number of persons +huddled together whispering mysteriously. By the cask were two +peasants, one clasping a bottle, the other holding out a glass; they +often drank healths to one another and nodded sleepily. A fat red +damsel was snoring behind the railing. Over all there spread a smell +compounded of whisky, sodden clay, and soaked rags. + +At times such a stillness fell on the room that one could hear the +sounds of the forest, the tinkle of the rain on the window-panes, the +crackling of the pine boughs in the fireplace. And then a low door +behind the railing opened with a creak, and there appeared the old grey +head of a Jew, dressed in his praying gown, and singing in a low voice, +while behind him shone a room lighted with small candles, from which +issued Sabbath smells and a quiet monotonous dreary sound of singing. +Jasiek drank a few glasses one after the other, gnawed half-consciously +some mouldy rolls as tough as leather, which he seasoned with a +herring, and looked now at the door, now at the window, or listened to +the murmur of the voices. + +'Marry, no, curse it, I won't marry!' suddenly shouted one of the two +peasants, knocking his bottle on the cask and spitting as far as the +shoulder of the beggar man at the fire. + +'But you must,' whispered the other, 'or repay the money.' + +'God! that's nothing! Jevka!'--this to the girl--'half a pint of +whisky! I pay!' + +'Money is a big thing, though a woman is a bigger.' + +'No, curse it, I won't marry! I'll sell myself, borrow, pay back the +money, rather than marry that harridan.' + +'Just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say to you.' + +'You won't get round me. I have said no, and that is no. Why, if I +must, I will run away to Brazil or the end of the world with those folk +yonder!' + +'Silly! just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say +to you.' + +They drank healths to one another several times, then began kissing, +then fell silent, for a child was crying in a corner, and a movement +began among the quiet timid crowd. + +A tall dried-up peasant appeared out of the darkness and walked out of +the inn. + +Jasiek moved up to the fire, for the cold was in his bones, and putting +his herring on a stick began to toast it over the coals. 'Move up a +bit,' he whispered to the beggar man, who had his feet on his wallet, +and though quite blind, was drying at the fire the soaked strips he +wore round his legs, and talking endlessly in a low voice to the woman +by him; she was cooking something and arranging boughs under a tripod +on which stood a pot. + +Jasiek got warmer, and steam as from a bucket of boiling water went up +from his long coat. + +'You are badly soaked,' whispered the beggar, sniffing. + +'I am,' said Jasiek in a whisper, shivering. The door creaked, but it +was only the thin peasant returning. + +'Who is that?' whispered Jasiek, tapping the beggar on the arm. + +'Those? I don't know him; but those are silly fools going to Brazil.' +He spat. + +Jasiek said not a word, but went on drying himself and moving his eyes +about the room, where the people, apparently grown uneasy, now talked +with increasing loudness, now fell suddenly silent, while every moment +one of them went out of the inn, and returned immediately. + +From the inner room the monotonous chant still reached them. A hungry +dog crept out from nowhere to the fire and began to growl at the +beggars, but getting a blow from a stick he howled with pain, settled +himself in the middle of the room, and with a piteous look gazed at the +steam rising from the pot. + +Jasiek was getting warmer; he had eaten his herring and rolls, but +still felt more sharply than ever that he wanted something. He minutely +searched his pockets, but not finding even a farthing there, doubled +himself together and gazed idly at the pot and the beams of the fire. + +'You want to eat--eh?' asked the beggar woman presently. + +'I have... a small rumbling in my belly.' + +'Who is it?' the beggar man softly inquired of the woman. + +'Don't be afraid,' she growled with malice: 'he won't give you a +threepenny bit, not so much as a farthing.' + +'A farmer?' + +'Yes, a farmer, like you: one who goes about the world'--and she took +the pot off the tripod. + +'And there are good people in the world--and wild beasts--and pigs out +of sties.... Hey?' said the beggar man, poking Jasiek with his stick. + +'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, not knowing what he said. + +'You have something on your mind, I see,' whispered the beggar. + +'I have.' + +'The Lord Jesus always said: "If you are hungry, eat; if you are +thirsty, drink; but if you are in trouble, don't chatter."' + +'Eat a little,' the woman begged the boy; 'it is beggars' food, but it +will do you good,' and she poured out a liberal portion on a plate. +From the bag she drew out a piece of brown bread and put it in the soup +unnoticed; then as he moved up to eat and she saw his worn grey face, +mere skin and bone, pity so moved her that she took out a piece of +sausage and laid it on the bread. + +Jasiek could not resist but ate greedily, from time to time throwing a +bone to the dog, who had crept up with entreating eyes. + +The beggar man listened a long time; then, when the woman put the pot +into his hands, he raised his spoon and said solemnly: + +'Eat, man. The Lord Jesus said, give a beggar a farthing and another +shall repay thee ten. God be with you!' + +They ate in silence, till in an interval the beggar rubbed his mouth +with his cuff and said: + +'Three things are needful for food to do you good--spirit, salt, bread. +Give us spirit, woman!' + +All three drank together and then went on eating. + +Jasiek had almost forgotten his danger and threw no more timid looks +around. He just ate, sated himself with warmth, sated slowly the +four-days' hunger that gnawed him, and felt peaceful in the quietness. + +The two peasants had left the cask, but the crowd in the corner on +benches or with their bags under their heads on the wet floor were +still quietly dreaming; and still came, but in ever sleepier tones, the +sound of singing from the inner room. And the rain was still falling +and penetrating the roof in some places; it dripped from the ceiling +and formed shining sticky circles of mud on the clay floor. And still +at times the wind shook the inn or howled in the fire-place, scattered +the burning boughs and drove smoke into the room. + +'There is something for you too, vagabond!' whispered the woman, giving +the rest of the food to the dog, who flitted about them with beseeching +eyes. + +Then the beggar spoke. 'With food in his belly a man is not badly off, +even in hell,' he said, setting down the empty pot. + +'God repay you for feeding me!' said Jasiek, and squeezed the beggar's +hand; the other did not at once let him go, but felt his hand +carefully. + +'For a few years you have not worked with your hands,' he murmured; but +Jan tore his hand away in a fright. + +'Sit down,' continued the beggar, 'don't be afraid. The Lord Jesus +said: "All are just men who fear God and help the poor orphan." +Fearnot, man. I am no Judas nor Jew, but an honest Christian and a poor +orphan myself.' + +He thought for a moment, then in a quiet voice said: + +'Attend to three things: love the Lord Jesus, never be hungry, and give +to a man more unfortunate than yourself. All the rest is just nothing, +rotten fancies. A wise man should never vex himself uselessly. Ho! we +know a dozen things. Eh, what do you say?' + +He pricked up his ears and waited, but Jasiek remained stubbornly +silent, fearing to betray himself; then the beggar brought out his bark +snuffbox, tapped it with his finger, took snuff, sneezed, and handed it +to the boy. Then, bending his huge blind face over the fire, he began +to talk in low monotonous tones. + +'There is no justice in the world; all men are Pharisees and rogues; +one man pushes another in front of him out of the way; each tries to be +the first to cheat the other, to eat him up. That wasn't the will of +the Lord Jesus. Ho! go into a squire's house, take off your cap, and +sing, though your throat is bursting, about Jesus and Mary and all the +Saints; then wait--nothing comes. Put in a few prayers about the Lord's +Transfiguration; then wait. Nothing again. No, only the small dogs +whine about your wallet and the maids bustle behind the hedges. Add a +litany--perhaps they give you two farthings or a mouldy bit of bread. +Curse you! I wish you were dirty, half-blind, and had to ask even +beggars for help! Why, after all that praying the whisky to wash my +throat with costs me more than they give!' He spat with disgust. + +'But are others better off, eh?' he continued, after a sniff. 'Jantek +Kulik--I dare say you know him--took a little pig of a squire's. And +what enjoyment did he have of it? Precious little. It was a miserable +creature, like a small yard dog; you could drown the whole body of him +in a quart of whisky. Well, for that he was arrested and put in prison +for half a year--and for what? for a miserable pig! as if a pig weren't +one of God's creatures too, and some were meant to die of hunger, and +some to have more than they can stuff into their throats. And yet the +Lord Jesus said: "What a poor man takes, that is as if you had given it +for My sake." Amen. Won't you take a drink?' + +'God repay you, but it has already turned my head a bit!' + +'Silly! the Lord Jesus himself drank at feasts. Drinking is no sin; it +is a sin, sure enough, to swill like a pig or to sit without talking +when good folk are gossiping, but not to drink the gift of God to the +bottom. You just drink my health,' he whispered resolutely. + +He drank himself from the bottle with a long gurgle in his throat; then +handing it to Jasiek, said merrily: + +'Drink, orphan. Observe only three things--to work the whole week, to +say your Paternoster, and on Sunday to give to the unfortunate, and +then you shall have redemption for your soul. Man, if you can't drink a +gallon, drink a quart!' + +Thereupon all fell silent. The woman was sleeping with her head +drooping by the extinct flame, the man had opened wide his +cataract-covered eyes at the glowing coals, and once and again nodded +vigorously. In the corner the whispers were silent; only the wind +struck the panes more violently than ever and shook the door, and from +the inner room burst forth the voices in an ecstasy, it seemed, of pity +or despair. + +Jasiek, overcome by the warmth of the whisky, felt sleepy, stretched +his legs out towards the fire, and felt an irresistible desire to lie +down. He fought against it with energetic movements, but every now and +then became utterly stiff and remembered nothing. A pleasant warm mist +compounded out of the beams of the fire, kindly words, and stillness, +wrapped him in darkness and a deep sense of freedom and security. At +times he woke suddenly, he could not have said why, glanced over the +room, or listened for a moment to the beggar, who was asleep but still +muttered: 'For all souls in Purgatory--Ave Maria, gratia plena,' and +then, 'Man, I tell you that a good beggar should have a stick with a +point, a deep wallet, and a long Paternoster.' Here he woke up, and +feeling Jasiek's eyes on him, recovered his wits and began to speak: + +'Hear what an old man says. Take a drop to my health, and listen. Man, +I tell you, be prudent, but don't force it into any one's eyes. Note +everything, and yet be blind to everything. If you live with a fool, be +a greater fool; with a lame man, have no legs at all; with a sick man, +die for him. If men give you a farthing, thank them as if it were a bit +of silver; if they set dogs on you, take it as your offering to the +Lord Jesus; if they beat you with a stick, say your Paternoster. + +'Man, I tell you, do as I advise and you shall have your wallet full, +your belly like a mountain, and you shall lead the whole world in a +string like silly cattle.... Eh, eh, I am a man not born to-day but one +that knows a dozen things. He that can observe the way of the world, no +trouble shall come to him. At the squire's house take your revenge on +the peasants; that is a sure farthing and perhaps a morsel from the +dinner; at the priest's abuse the peasants and the squires; that is two +farthings sure, and absolution too; and when you are in the cottages, +abuse everything, and you will eat millet and bacon, and drink whisky +mixed with fat.' + +Here he began to drowse, still murmuring incoherently, 'Man, I tell +you... for the soul of Julina... Ave Maria...', and rocked on the +bench. + +'Gratia plena... help a poor cripple!' This was the woman babbling in +her sleep, as she raised her head from the fire-place; but the man woke +up suddenly and cried, 'Be quiet, silly!' for the entrance door was +thrown loudly open, and there pushed in among them a tall yellow-haired +Jew. + +'On to the road,' he called in a deep voice, 'it's time'; and at once +the whole crowd of sleepers sprang to their feet, began to put their +loads on their backs, to get ready, to push forward into the middle of +the room and again for no reason to retire. A low tumult of +sound--abuse or complaint--burst from all: there were hot passages of +words, cries, curses, gesticulations, or the beginnings of muttered +prayers, noise, and crying children--but all kept under restraint, and +yet filling the gloomy blackened room with a sense of alarm. + +Jasiek awoke completely, and with his shoulders pressed to the now +cooling fireplace, looked round curiously at the people as far as he +could make them out. + +'Where are they going?' he asked the beggar. + +'To Brazil.' + +'Is it far?' + +'Ho! ho! it's the end of the world, beyond the tenth sea.' + +'And why?' + +'First because they are fools, and second because they are +unfortunate.' + +'And do they know the way?' Jasiek asked again, hugely astonished. + +But the beggar was no longer answering him; pushing on the woman with a +stick, he came forward into the middle of the room, fell on his knees, +and began in a sort of plaintive chant: + +'You are going beyond the seas, the mountains, the forests--to the end +of the world. The Lord Jesus bless you, orphans! The Virgin of +Czenstochowa keep you, and all the saints help you in return for the +farthing that you give to this poor cripple...To the Lord's +Transfiguration! Ave Maria....' + +'Gratia plena: the Lord be with you,' murmured the woman, kneeling at +his side. + +'Blessed art thou among women,' answered the crowd and pressed forward. + +All knelt; a subdued sobbing arose; heads were bowed; trusting and +resigned hearts breathed their emotions in prayer. A warm glow of trust +kindled the dull eyes and pinched faces, straightened the bent +shoulders, and gave them such force that they rose from their prayer +heartened and unconquerable. + +'Herszlik, Herszlik!' they called to the Jew, who had disappeared into +the inner room. They were eager now to go into that unknown world, so +terrible and yet so alluring for its very strangeness; eager to take on +their shoulders their new fate and to escape from the old. + +Herszlik came out armed with a dark lantern, counted the people, made +them range themselves in pairs, opened the door: they began to move +like some phantom army of misery, a column of ragged shadows, and +disappeared at once in the darkness and rain. For a moment there shone +in the gloom and amid the tossing trees the solitary light of their +guide, for a moment one could hear amid wailing a tremulous hymn, 'He +who casts himself on the care of the Lord....' Then the storm broke out +again in what seemed like the groan of dying masses. + +'Poor creatures! orphans!' whispered Jasiek; a wild grief filled his +heart. + +Then he returned to the inn, now dumb and dark, for the girl had +extinguished the light and gone to sleep, and the singing had ceased in +the inner room: only the beggar remained awake; he and the woman were +counting the people's alms. + +'A poor parish! two threepenny bits and five and twenty farthings--the +whole show! Ha! May the Lord Jesus never remember them or help them!' + +He went on babbling, but Jasiek no longer listened. Crouched in the +fire-place he hid himself as best he could in his still wet cloak and +fell into a stony sleep. + +A good while after midnight he was awakened by a sharp tug; a light +shone straight into his eyes. + +'Hey, brother, get up! Who are you? Have you your passport?' + +He came to his senses at once: two policemen stood over him. + +'Have you your passport?' the policeman asked again, shaking him like a +bundle of straw. + +But for answer Jasiek jumped to his feet and struck the man with his +fist between the eyes, so that he dropped his lantern and fell +backwards, while Jasiek darted to the door and ran out. The other +policeman chased him, and being unable to catch him, fired. + +Jasiek tottered a moment, shrieked, and fell in the mud, then jumped up +at once and was lost in the darkness of the forest. + + + + + + +DEATH + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + + +'Father, eh, father, get up, do you hear?--Eh, get a move on!' + +'Oh God, oh Blessed Virgin! Aoh!' groaned the old man, who was being +violently shaken. His face peeped out from under his sheepskin, a +sunken, battered, and deeply-lined face, of the same colour as the +earth he had tilled for so many years; with a shock of hair, grey as +the furrows of ploughed fields in autumn. His eyes were closed; +breathing heavily he dropped his tongue from his half-open bluish mouth +with cracked lips. + +'Get up! hi!' shouted his daughter. + +'Grandad!' whimpered a little girl who stood in her chemise and a +cotton apron tied across her chest, and raised herself on tiptoe to +look at the old man's face. + +'Grandad!' There were tears in her blue eyes and sorrow in her grimy +little face. 'Grandad!' she called out once more, and plucked at the +pillow. + +'Shut up!' screamed her mother, took her by the nape of the neck and +thrust her against the stove. + +'Out with you, damned dog!' she roared, when she stumbled over the old +half-blind bitch who was sniffing the bed. 'Out you go! will you...you +carrion!' and she kicked the animal so violently with her clog that it +tumbled over, and, whining, crept towards the closed door. The little +girl stood sobbing near the stove, and rubbed her nose and eyes with +her small fists. + +'Father, get up while I am still in a good humour!' + +The sick man was silent, his head had fallen on one side, his breathing +became more and more laboured. He had not much longer to live. + +'Get up. What's the idea? Do you think you are going to do your dying +here? Not if I know it! Go to Julina, you old dog! You've given the +property to Julina, let her look after you...come now...while I'm yet +asking you!' + +'Oh blessed Child Jesus! oh Mary....' + +A sudden spasm contracted his face, wet with anxiety and sweat. With a +jerk his daughter tore away the feather-bed, and, taking the old man +round the middle, she pulled him furiously half out of the bed, so that +only his head and shoulders were resting on it; he lay motionless like +a piece of wood, and, like a piece of wood, stiff and dried up. + +'Priest.... His Reverence...' he murmured under his heavy breathing. + +'I'll give you your priest! You shall kick your bucket in the pigsty, +you sinner...like a dog!' She seized him under the armpits, but dropped +him again directly, and covered him entirely with the feather-bed, for +she had noticed a shadow flitting past the window. Some one was coming +up to the house. + +She scarcely had time to push the old man's feet back into the bed. +Blue in the face, she furiously banged the feather-bed and pushed the +bedding about. + +The wife of the peasant Dyziak came into the room. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity...' growled the other, and glanced suspiciously at her out +of the corners of her eyes. + +'How do you do? Are you well?' + +'Thank God... so so...' + +'How's the old man? Well?' + +She was stamping the snow off her clogs near the door. + +'Eh... how should he be well? He can hardly fetch his breath any more.' + +'Neighbour... you don't say so... neighbour...' She was bending down +over the old man. + +'Priest,' he sighed. + +'Dear me... just fancy... dear me, he doesn't know me! The poor man +wants the priest. He's dying, that's certain, he's all but dead +already... dear me! Well, and did you send for his Reverence?' + +'Have I got any one to send?' + +'But you don't mean to let a Christian soul die without the sacrament?' + +'I can't run off and leave him alone, and perhaps...he may recover.' + +'Don't you believe it... hoho... just listen to his breathing. That +means that his inside is withering up. It's just as it was with my +Walek last year when he was so ill.' + +'Well, dear, you'd better go for the priest, make haste... look!' + +'All right, all right. Poor thing! He looks as if he couldn't last much +longer. I must make haste... I'm off...' and she tied her apron more +firmly over her head. + +'Good-bye, Antkowa.' + +'Go with God.' + +Dyziakowa went out, while the other woman began to put the room in +order; she scraped the dirt off the floor, swept it up, strewed +wood-ashes, scrubbed her pots and pans and put them in a row. From time +to time she turned a look of hatred on to the bed, spat, clenched her +fists, and held her head in helpless despair. + +'Fifteen acres of land, the pigs, three cows, furniture, clothes--half +of it, I'm sure, would come to six thousand... good God!' + +And as though the thought of so large a sum was giving her fresh +vigour, she scrubbed her saucepans with a fury that made the walls +ring, and banged them down on the board. + +'May you... may you!' She continued to count up: 'Fowls, geese, calves, +all the farm implements. And all left to that trull! May misery eat you +up... may the worms devour you in the ditch for the wrong you have done +me, and for leaving me no better off than an orphan!' + +She sprang towards the bed in a towering rage and shouted: + +'Get up! 'And when the old man did not move, she threatened him with +her fists and screamed into his face: + +'That's what you've come here for, to do your dying here, and I am to +pay for your funeral and buy you a hooded cloak... that's what he +thinks. I don't think! You won't live to see me do it! If your Julina +is so sweet, you'd better make haste and go to her. Was it I who was +supposed to look after you in your dotage? She is the pet, and if you +think...' + +She did not finish, for she heard the tinkling of the bell, and the +priest entered with the sacrament. + +Antkowa bowed down to his feet, wiping tears of rage from her eyes, and +after she had poured the holy water into a chipped basin and put the +asperges-brush beside it, she went out into the passage, where a few +people who had come with the priest were waiting already. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity.' + +'What is it?' + +'Oh nothing! Only that he's come here to give up... with us, whom he +has wronged. And now he won't give up. Oh dear me... poor me!' + +She began to cry. + +'That's true! He will have to rot, and you will have to live,' they all +answered in unison and nodded their heads. + +'One's own father,' she began again. '... Have we, Antek and I, not +taken care of him, worked for him, sweated for him, just as much as +they? Not a single egg would I sell, not half a pound of butter, but +put it all down his throat; the little drop of milk I have taken away +from the baby and given it to him, because he was an old man and my +father... and now he goes and gives it all to Tomek. Fifteen acres of +land, the cottage, the cows, the pigs, the calf, and the farm-carts and +all the furniture... is that nothing? Oh, pity me! There's no justice +in this world, none... Oh, oh!' + +She leant against the wall, sobbing loudly. + +'Don't cry, neighbour, don't cry. God is full of mercy, but not always +towards the poor. He will reward you some day.' + +'Idiot, what's the good of talking like that?' interrupted the +speaker's husband. 'What's wrong is wrong. The old man will go, and +poverty will stay.' + +'It's hard to make an ox move when he won't lift up his feet,' another +man said thoughtfully. + +'Eh... You can get used to everything in time, even to hell,' murmured +a third, and spat from between his teeth. + +The little group relapsed into silence. The wind rattled the door and +blew snow through the crevices on to the floor. The peasants stood +thoughtfully, with bared heads, and stamped their feet to get warm. The +women, with their hands under their cotton aprons, and huddled +together, looked with patient resigned faces towards the door of the +living-room. + +At last the bell summoned them into the room; they entered one by one, +pushing each other aside. The dying man was lying on his back, his head +deeply buried in the pillows; his yellow chest, covered with white +hair, showed under the open shirt. The priest bent over him and laid +the wafer upon his outstretched tongue. All knelt down and, with their +eyes raised to the ceiling, violently smote their chests, while they +sighed and sniffled audibly. The women bent down to the ground and +babbled: 'Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world.' + +The dog, worried by the frequent tinkling of the bell, growled +ill-temperedly in the corner. + +The priest had finished the last unction, and beckoned to the dying +man's daughter. 'Where's yours, Antkowa?' + +'Where should he be, your Reverence, if not at his daily job?' + +For a moment the priest stood, hesitating, looked at the assembly, +pulled his expensive fur tighter round his shoulders; but he could not +think of anything suitable to say; so he only nodded to them and went +out, giving them his white, aristocratic hand to kiss, while they bent +towards his knees. + +When he had gone they immediately dispersed. The short December day was +drawing to its close. The wind had gone down, but the snow was now +falling in large, thick flakes. The evening twilight crept into the +room. Antkowa was sitting in front of the fire; she broke off twig +after twig of the dry firewood, and carelessly threw them upon the +fire. + +She seemed to be purposing something, for she glanced again and again +at the window, and then at the bed. The sick man had been lying quite +still for a considerable time. She got very impatient, jumped up from +her stool and stood still, eagerly listening and looking about; then +she sat down again. + +Night was falling fast. It was almost quite dark in the room. The +little girl was dozing, curled up near the stove. The fire was +flickering feebly with a reddish light which lighted up the woman's +knees and a bit of the floor. + +The dog started whining and scratched at the door. The chickens on the +ladder cackled low and long. + +Now a deep silence reigned in the room. A damp chill rose from the wet +floor. + +Antkowa suddenly got up to peer through the window at the village +street; it was empty. The snow was falling thickly, blotting out +everything at a few steps' distance. Undecided, she paused in front of +the bed, but only for a moment; then she suddenly pulled away the +feather-bed roughly and determinedly, and threw it on to the other +bedstead. She took the dying man under the armpits and lifted him high +up. + +'Magda! Open the door.' + +Magda jumped up, frightened, and opened the door. + +'Come here...take hold of his feet.' + +Magda clutched at her grandfather's feet with her small hands and +looked up in expectation. + +'Well, get on...help me to carry him! Don't stare about...carry him, +that's what you've got to do!' she commanded again, severely. + +The old man was heavy, perfectly helpless, and apparently unconscious; +he did not seem to realize what was being done to him. She held him +tight and carried, or rather dragged him along, for the little girl had +stumbled over the threshold and dropped his feet, which were drawing +two deep furrows in the snow. + +The penetrating cold had restored the dying man to consciousness, for +in the yard he began to moan and utter broken words: + +'Julisha...oh God...Ju...' + +'That's right, you scream...scream as much as you like, nobody will +hear you, even if you shout your mouth off!' + +She dragged him across the yard, opened the door of the pigsty with her +foot, pulled him in, and dropped him close to the wall. + +The sow came forward, grunting, followed by her piglets. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came out of the sty and she banged the door, but returned +almost immediately, tore the shirt open on the old man's chest, tore +off his chaplet, and took it with her. + +'Now die, you leper!' + +She kicked his naked leg, which was lying across the opening, with her +clog, and went out. + +The pigs were running about in the yard; she looked back at them from +the passage. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came running up to her, squeaking; she brought out a bowlfull +of potatoes and emptied it. The mother-pig began to eat greedily, and +the piglets poked their pink noses into her and pulled at her until +nothing but their loud smacking could be heard. + +Antkowa lighted a small lamp above the fireplace and tore open the +chaplet, with her back turned towards the window. A sudden gleam came +into her eyes, when a number of banknotes and two silver roubles fell +out. + +'It wasn't just talk then, his saying that he'd put by the money for +the funeral.' She wrapped the money up in a rag and put it into the +chest. + +'You Judas! May eternal blindness strike you!' + +She put the pots and pans straight and tried to cheer the fire which +was going out. + +'Drat it! That plague of a boy has left me without a drop of water.' + +She stepped outside and called 'Ignatz! Hi! Ignatz!' + +A good half-hour passed, then the snow creaked under stealthy footsteps +and a shadow stole past the window. Antkowa seized a piece of wood and +stood by the door which was flung wide open; a small boy of about nine +entered the room. + +'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you? And not a drop +of water in the house!' + +Clutching him with one hand she beat the screaming child with the +other. + +'Mummy! I won't do it again.... Mummy, leave off.... Mumm...' + +She beat him long and hard, giving vent to all her pent-up rage. + +'Mother! Ow! All ye Saints! She's killing me!' + +'You dog! You're loafing about, and not a drop of water do you fetch +me, and there's no wood am I to feed you for nothing, and you worrying +me into the bargain?' She hit harder. + +At last he tore himself away, jumped out by the window, and shouted +back at her with a tear-choked voice: + +'May your paws rot off to the elbows, you dog of a mother! May you be +stricken down, you sow!... You may wait till you're manure before I +fetch you any water!' + +And he ran back to the village. + +The room suddenly seemed strangely empty. The lamp above the fireplace +trembled feebly. The little girl was sobbing to herself. + +'What are you snivelling about?' + +'Mummy...oh... oh...grandad...' + +She leant, weeping, against her mother's knee. + +'Leave off, idiot!' + +She took the child on her lap, and, pressing her close, she began to +clean her head. The little thing babbled incoherently, she looked +feverish; she rubbed her eyes with her small fists and presently went +to sleep, still sobbing convulsively from time to time. + +Soon afterwards the husband returned home. He was a huge fellow in a +sheepskin, and wore a muffler round his cap. His face was blue with +cold; his moustache, covered with hoar-frost, looked like a brush. He +knocked the snow off his boots, took muffler and cap off together, +dusted the snow off his fur, clapped his stiff hands against his arms, +pushed the bench towards the fire, and sat down heavily. + +Antkowa took a saucepan full of cabbage off the fire and put it in +front of her husband, cut a piece of bread and gave it him, together +with the spoon. The peasant ate in silence, but when he had finished he +undid his fur, stretched his legs, and said: 'Is there any more?' + +She gave him the remains of their midday porridge; he spooned it up +after he had cut himself another piece of bread; then he took out his +pouch, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, threw some sticks on the fire +and drew closer to it. A good while later he looked round the room. +'Where's the old man?' + +'Where should he be? In the pigsty.' + +He looked questioningly at her. + +'I should think so! What should he loll in the bed for, and dirty the +bedclothes? If he's got to give up, he will give up all the quicker in +there.... Has he given me a single thing? What should he come to me +for? Am I to pay for his funeral and give him his food? If he doesn't +give up now--and I tell you, he is a tough one--then he'll eat us out +of house and home. If Julina is to have everything let her look after +him--that's nothing to do with me.' + +'Isn't my father... and cheated us... he has. I don't care.... The old +speculator!' + +Antek swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and spat into the middle of +the room. + +'If he hadn't cheated us we should now have... wait a minute... we've +got five... and seven and a half... makes... five and... seven...' + +'Twelve and a half. I had counted that up long ago; we could have kept +a horse and three cows... bah!... the carrion!' + +Again he spat furiously. + +The woman got up, laid the child down on the bed, took the little rag +bundle from the chest and put it into her husband's hand. + +'What's that?' + +'Look at it.' + +He opened the linen rag. An expression of greed came into his face, he +bent forward towards the fire with his whole frame, so as to hide the +money, and counted it over twice. 'How much is it?' + +She did not know the money values. + +'Fifty-four roubles.' + +'Lord! So much?' + +Her eyes shone; she stretched out her hand and fondled the money. + +'How did you come by it?' + +'Ah bah... how? Don't you remember the old man telling us last year +that he had put by enough to pay for his funeral?' + +'That's right, he did say that.' + +'He had stitched it into his chaplet and I took it from him; holy +things shouldn't knock about in a pigsty, that would be sinful; then I +felt the silver through the linen, so I tore that off and took the +money. That is ours; hasn't he wronged us enough?' + +'That's God's truth. It's ours; that little bit at least is coming back +to us. Put it by with the other money, we can just do with it. Only +yesterday Smoletz told me he wanted to borrow a thousand roubles from +me; he will give his five acres of ploughed fields near the forest as +security.' + +'Have you got enough?' + +'I think I have.' + +'And will you begin to sow the fields yourself in the spring?' + +'Rather... if I shouldn't have quite enough now, I will sell the sow; +even if I should have to sell the little ones as well I must lend him +the money. For he won't be able to redeem it,' he added, 'I know what +I know. We shall go to the lawyer and make a proper contract that the +ground will be mine unless he repays the money within five years.' + +'Can you do that?' + +'Of course I can. How did Dumin get hold of Dyziak's fields?... Put it +away; you may keep the silver, buy what you like with it. Where's +Ignatz?' + +'He's run off somewhere. Ha! no water, it's all gone....' + +The peasant got up without a word, looked after the cattle, went in and +out, fetched water and wood. + +The supper was boiling in the saucepan. Ignatz cautiously crept into +the room; no one spoke to him. They were all silent and strangely ill +at ease. The old man was not mentioned; it was as if he had never been. + +Antek thought of his five acres; he looked upon them as a certainty. +Momentarily the old man came into his mind, and then again the sow he +had meant to kill when she had finished with the sucking-pigs. Again +and again he spat when his eyes fell on the empty bedstead, as if he +wanted to get rid of an unpleasant thought. He was worried, did not +finish his supper, and went to bed immediately after. He turned over +from side to side; the potatoes and cabbage, groats and bread gave him +indigestion, but he got over it and went to sleep. + +When all was silent, Antkowa gently opened the door into the next room +where the bundles of flax lay. From underneath these she fetched a +packet of banknotes wrapped up in a linen rag, and added the money. She +smoothed the notes many times over, opened them out, folded them up +again, until she had gazed her fill; then she put out the light and +went to bed beside her husband. + +Meanwhile the old man had died. The pigsty, a miserable lean-to run up +of planks and thatched with branches, gave no protection against wind +and weather. No one heard the helpless old man entreating for mercy in +a voice trembling with despair. No one saw him creep to the closed door +and raise himself with a superhuman effort to try and open it. He felt +death gaining upon him; from his heels it crept upwards to his chest, +holding it as in a vice, and shaking him in terrible spasms; his jaws +closed upon each other, tighter and tighter, until he was no longer +able to open them and scream. His veins were hardening till they felt +like wires. He reared up feebly, till at last he broke down on the +threshold, with foam on his lips, and a look of horror at being left to +die of cold, in his broken eyes; his face was distorted by an +expression of anguish which was like a frozen cry. There he lay. + +The next morning before dawn Antek and his wife got up. His first +thought was to see what had happened to the old man. + +He went to look, but could not get the door of the pigsty to open, the +corpse was barring it from the inside like a beam. At last, after a +great effort, he was able to open it far enough to slip in, but he came +out again at once, terror-stricken. He could hardly get fast enough +across the yard and into the house; he was almost senseless with fear. +He could not understand what was happening to him; his whole frame +shook as in a fever, and he stood by the door panting and unable to +utter a word. + +Antkowa was at that moment teaching little Magda her prayer. She turned +her head towards her husband with questioning eyes. + +'Thy will be done...' she babbled thoughtlessly. + +'Thy will...' + +'... be done...' + +'... be done...' the kneeling child repeated like an echo. + +'Well, is he dead?' she jerked out, '...on earth...' + +'... on earth...' + +'To be sure, he's lying across the door,' he answered under his breath. + +'... as it is in Heaven...' + +'... is in Heaven...' 'But we can't leave him there; people might say +we took him there to get rid of him--we can't have that...' + +'What do you want me to do with him?' + +'How do I know? You must do something.' + +'Perhaps we can get him across here?' suggested Antek. + +'Look at that now...let him rot! Bring him in here? Not if...' + +'Idiot, he will have to be buried.' + +'Are we to pay for his funeral?...but deliver us from evil...what are +you blinking your silly eyes for?...go on praying.' + +'... deliver...us...from...evil...' + +'I shouldn't think of paying for that, that's Tomek's business by law +and right.' + +'... Amen...' + +'Amen.' + +She made the sign of the cross over the child, wiped its nose with her +fingers and went up to her husband. + +He whispered: 'We must get him across.' + +'Into the house...here?' + +'Where else?' + +'Into the cowshed; we can lead the calf out and lay him down on the +bench, let him lie in state there, if he likes...such a one as he has +been!' + +'Monika!' + +'Eh?' + +'We ought to get him out there.' + +'Well, fetch him out then.' + +'All right...but...' + +'You're afraid, what?' + +'Idiot...damned...' + +'What else?' + +'It's dark...' + +'If you wait till it's day, people will see you.' + +'Let's go together.' + +'You go if you are so keen.' + +'Are you coming, you carrion, or are you not?' he shouted at her; 'he's +your father, not mine.' And he flung out of the room in a rage. + +The woman followed him without a word. + +When they entered the pigsty, a breath of horror struck them, like the +exhalation from a corpse. The old man was lying there, cold as ice; one +half of his body had frozen on to the floor; they had to tear him off +forcibly before they could drag him across the threshold and into the +yard. + +Antkowa began to tremble violently at the sight of him; he looked +terrifying in the light of the grey dawn, on the white coverlet of +snow, with his anguished face, wide-open eyes, and drooping tongue on +which the teeth had closed firmly. There were blue patches on his skin, +and he was covered with filth from head to foot. + +'Take hold,' whispered the man, bending over him. 'How horribly cold he +is!' + +The icy wind which rises just before the sun, blew into their faces, +and shook the snow off the swinging twigs with a dry crackle. + +Here and there a star was still visible against the leaden background +of the sky. From the village came the creaking noise of the hauling of +water, and the cocks crew as if the weather were going to change. + +Antkowa shut her eyes and covered her hands with her apron, before she +took hold of the old man's feet; they could hardly lift him, he was so +heavy. They had barely put him down on a bench when she fled back into +the house, throwing out a linen-rag to her husband to cover the corpse. + +The children were busy scraping potatoes; she waited impatiently at the +door. + +'Have done...come in!... Lord, how long you are!' + +'We must get some one to come and wash him,' she said, laying the +breakfast, when he had come in. + +'I will fetch the deaf-mute.' + +'Don't go to work to-day.' + +'Go...no, not I...' + +They did not speak again, and ate their breakfast without appetite, +although as a rule they finished their four quarts of soup between +them. + +When they went out into the yard they walked quickly, and did not turn +their heads towards the other side. They were worried, but did not know +why; they felt no remorse; it was perhaps more a vague fear of the +corpse, or fear of death, that shook them and made them silent. + +When it was broad day, Antek fetched the village deaf-mute, who washed +and dressed the old man, laid him out, and put a consecrated candle at +his head. + +Antek then went to give notice to the priest and to the Soltys of his +father-in-law's death and his own inability to pay for the funeral. + +'Let Tomek bury him; he has got all the money.' + +The news of the old man's death spread rapidly throughout the village. +People soon began to assemble in little groups to look at the corpse. +They murmured a prayer, shook their heads, and went off to talk it +over. + +It was not till towards evening that Tomek, the other son-in-law, under +pressure of public opinion, declared himself willing to pay for the +funeral. + +On the third day, shortly before this was to take place, Tomek's wife +made her appearance at Antek's cottage. + +In the passage she almost came nose to nose with her sister, who was +just taking a pail of dishwater out to the cowshed. + +'Blessed be Jesus Christ,' she murmured, and kept her hand on the +door-handle. + +'Now: look at that... soul of a Judas!' Antkowa put the pail down hard. +'She's come to spy about here. Got rid of the old one somehow, didn't +you? Hasn't he given everything to you... and you dare show yourself +here, you trull! Have you come for the rest of the rags he left here, +what?' + +'I bought him a new sukmana at Whitsuntide, he can keep that on, of +course, but I must have the sheepskin back, because it has been bought +with money I have earned in the sweat of my brow,' Tomekowa replied +calmly. + +'Have it back, you mangy dog, have it back?' screamed Antkowa. 'I'll +give it you, you'll see what you will have...' and she looked round for +an object that would serve her purpose. 'Take it away? You dare! You +have crawled to him and lickspittled till he became the idiot he was +and made everything over to you and wronged me, and then...' + +'Everybody knows that we bought the land from him, there are +witnesses...' + +'Bought it? Look at her! You mean to say you're not afraid to lie like +that under God's living eyes? Bought it! Cheats, that's what you are, +thieves, dogs! You stole the money from him first, and then.... Didn't +you make him eat out of the pig-pail? Adam is a witness that he had to +pick the potatoes out of the pig-pail, ha! You've let him sleep in the +cowshed, because, you said, he stank so that you couldn't eat. Fifteen +acres of land and a dower-life like that... for so much property! And +you've beaten him too, you swine, you monkey!' + +'Hold your snout, or I'll shut it for you and make you remember, you +sow, you trull!' + +'Come on then, come on, you destitute creature!' 'I... destitute?' + +'Yes, you! You would have rotted in a ditch, the vermin would have +eaten you up, if Tomek hadn't married you.' + +'I, destitute? Oh you carrion!' They sprang at each other, clutching at +each other's hair; they fought in the narrow passage, screaming +themselves hoarse all the time. + +'You street-walker, you loafer... there! that's one for you! There's +one for my fifteen acres, and for all the wrong you have done me, you +dirty dog!' + +'For the love of God, you women, leave off, leave off! It's a sin and a +shame!' cried the neighbours. + +'Let me go, you leper, will you let go?' + +'I'll beat you to death, I will tear you to pieces, you filth!' + +They fell down, hitting each other indiscriminately, knocked over the +pail, and rolled about in the pigwash. At last, speechless with rage +and only breathing hard, they still banged away at each other. The men +were hardly able to separate them. Purple in the face, scratched all +over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was +boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a +second time. + +At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, +tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh +Mary! Look at this pestiferous woman...curse those heathen...oh! +oh!...' she was only able to roar, leaning against the wall. + +Tomekowa, meanwhile, was cursing and shouting outside the house, and +banging her heels against the door. + +The spectators stood in little groups, taking counsel with each other, +and stamping their feet in the snow. The women looked like red spots +dabbed on to the wall; they pressed their knees together, for the wind +was penetratingly cold. They murmured remarks to each other from time +to time, while they watched the road leading to the church, the spires +of which stood out clearly behind the branches of the bare trees. Every +minute some one or other wanted to have another look at the corpse; it +was a perpetual coming and going. The small yellow flames of the +candles could be seen through the half-open door, flaring in the +draught, and momentarily revealing a glimpse of the dead man's sharp +profile as he lay in the coffin. The smell of burning juniper floated +through the air, together with the murmurings of prayers and the grunts +of the deaf-mute. + +At last the priest arrived with the organist. The white pine coffin was +carried out and put into the cart. The women began to sing the usual +lamentations, while the procession started down the long village street +towards the cemetery. The priest intoned the first words of the +Service for the Dead, walking at the head of the procession with his +black biretta on his head; he had thrown a thick fur cloak over his +surplice; the wind made the ends of his stole flutter; the words of the +Latin hymn fell from his lips at intervals, dully, as though they had +been frozen; he looked bored and impatient, and let his eyes wander +into the distance. The wind tugged at the black banner, and the +pictures of heaven and hell on it wobbled and fluttered to and fro, as +though anxious to display themselves to the rows of cottages on either +side, where women with shawls over their heads and bare-headed men were +standing huddled together. + +They bowed reverently, made the sign of the cross, and beat their +breasts. + +The dogs were barking furiously from behind the hedges, some jumped on +to the stone walls and broke into long-drawn howls. + +Eager little children peeped out from behind the closed windows, beside +toothless used-up old people's faces, furrowed as fields in autumn. + +A small crowd of boys in linen trousers and blue jackets with brass +buttons, their bare feet stuck into wooden sandals, ran behind the +priest, staring at the pictures of heaven and hell, and intoning the +intervals of the chant with thin, shivering voices: a! o!... They kept +it up as long as the organist did not change the chant. + +Ignatz proudly walked in front, holding the banner with one hand and +singing the loudest of all. He was flushed with exertion and cold, but +he never relaxed, as though eager to show that he alone had a right to +sing, because it was his grandfather who was being carried to the +grave. They left the village behind. The wind threw itself upon Antek, +whose huge form towered above all the others, and ruffled his hair; but +he did not notice the wind, he was entirely taken up with the horses +and with steadying the coffin, which was tilting dangerously at every +hole in the road. + +The two sisters were walking close behind the coffin, murmuring prayers +and eyeing each other with furious glances. + +'Tsutsu! Go home!...Go home at once, you carrion!' One of the mourners +pretended to pick up a stone. The dog, who had been following the cart, +whined, put her tail between her legs, and fled behind a heap of stones +by the roadside; when the procession had moved on a good bit, she ran +after it in a semi-circle, and anxiously kept close to the horses, lest +she should be prevented again from following. + +The Latin chant had come to an end. The women, with shrill voices, +began to sing the old hymn: 'He who dwelleth under the protection of +the Lord.' + +It sounded thin. The blizzard, which was getting up, did not allow the +singing to come to much. Twilight was falling. + +The wind drove clouds of snow across from the endless, steppe-like +plains, dotted here and there with skeleton trees, and lashed the +little crowd of human beings as with a whip. + +'... and loves and keeps with faithful heart His word...,' they +insisted through the whistling of the tempest and the frequent shouts +of Antek, who was getting breathless with cold: 'Woa! woa, my lads!' + +Snowdrifts were beginning to form across the road like huge wedges, +starting from behind trees and heaps of stones. + +Again and again the singing was interrupted when the people looked +round anxiously into the white void: it seemed to be moving when the +wind struck it with dull thuds; now it towered in huge walls, now it +dissolved like breakers, turned over, and furiously darted sprays of a +thousand sharp needles into the faces of the mourners. Many of them +returned half-way, fearing an increase of the blizzard, the others +hurried on to the cemetery in the greatest haste, almost at a run. They +got through the ceremony as fast as they could; the grave was ready, +they quickly sang a little more, the priest sprinkled holy water on the +coffin; frozen clods of earth and snow rolled down, and the people fled +home. + +Tomek invited everybody to his house, because 'the reverend Father had +said to him, that other-wise the ceremony would doubtless end in an +ungodly way at the public-house.' + +Antek's answer to the invitation was a curse. The four of them, +including Ignatz and the peasant Smoletz, turned into the inn. + +They drank four quarts of spirits mixed with fat, ate three pounds of +sausages, and talked about the money transaction. + +The heat of the room and the spirits soon made Antek very drunk. He +stumbled so on the way home that his wife took him firmly under the +arm. + +Smoletz remained at the inn to drink an extra glass in prospect of the +loan, but Ignatz ran home ahead as fast as he could, for he was +horribly cold. + +'Look here, mother...,' said Antek, 'the five acres are mine! aha! +mine, do you hear? In the autumn I shall sow wheat and barley, and in +the spring we will plant potatoes... mine... they are mine!... God is +my comfort, sayest thou...,' he suddenly began to sing. + +The storm was raging, and howling. + +'Shut up! You'll fall down, and that will be the end of it.' + +'... His angel keepeth watch...,' he stopped abruptly. The darkness was +impenetrable, nothing could be seen at a distance of two feet. The +blizzard had reached the highest degree of fury; whistling and howling +on a gigantic scale filled the air, and mountains of snow hurled +themselves upon them. + +From Tomek's cottage came the sound of funeral chants and loud talking +when they passed by. + +'These heathen! These thieves! You wait, I'll show you my five acres! +Then I shall have ten. You won't lord it over me! Dogs'-breed... aha! +I'll work, I'll slave, but I shall get it, eh, mother? we will get it, +what?' he hammered his chest with his fist, and rolled his drunken +eyes. + +He went on like this for a while, but as soon as they reached their +home, the woman dragged him into bed, where he fell down like a dead +man. But he did not go to sleep yet, for after a time he shouted: +'Ignatz!' + +The boy approached, but with caution, for fear of contact with the +paternal foot. + +'Ignatz, you dead dog! Ignatz, you shall be a first-class peasant, not +a beggarly professional man,' he bawled, and brought his fist down on +the bedstead. + +'The five acres are mine, mine! Foxy Germans,[1] you... da...' He went +to sleep. + +[Footnote 1: 'The term 'German' is used for 'foreigner' generally, whom +the Polish peasant despises.] + + + + + +THE SENTENCE + +BY + +J. KADEN-BANDKOWSKI + + + +'Yakob... Yakob... Yakob!' + +The old man was repeating his name to himself, or rather he was +inwardly listening to the sound of it which he had been accustomed to +hear for so many years. He had heard it in the stable, in the fields, +and on the grazing-ground, on the steps of the manor-house and at the +Jew's, but never like this. It seemed to issue from unknown depths, +summoning sounds never heard before, sights never yet seen, producing a +confusion which he had never experienced. He saw it, felt it +everywhere; it was itself the cause of a hopeless despair. + +This despair crept silently into Yakob's fatalistic and submissive +soul. He felt it under his hand, as though he were holding another +hand. He was as conscious of it as of his hairy chest, his cold and +starved body. This despair, moreover, was blended with a kind of +patient expectancy which was expressed by the whispering of his pale, +trembling lips, the tepid sweat under his armpits, the saliva running +into his throat and making his tongue feel rigid like a piece of wood. + +This is what happened: he tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come swarming in from everywhere; they had taken the men away; +it was firearms everywhere...everywhere firearms, noise and hubbub. The +whole world was pushing, running, sweating or freezing. They arrived +from this side or from that; they asked questions, they hunted people +down, they followed up a trail, they fought. Of course, one must not +betray one's brothers, but then...who are one's brothers? + +They placed watches in the mountains, in the forests, on the fields; +they even drove people into the mountain-passes and told them to hold +out at any cost. + +Yakob had been sitting in the chimney-corner in the straw and dust, +covered with his frozen rags. The wind swept over the mountains and +penetrated into the cottage, bringing with it a white covering of +hoar-frost; it was sighing eerily in the fields; the fields themselves +seemed to flee from it, and to be alive, running away into the +distance. The earth in white convulsions besieged the sky, and the sky +got entangled in the mountain-forests. + +Yakob was looking at the snow which was falling thickly, and tried to +penetrate the veil with his eyes. Stronger and faster raged the +blizzard. Yakob's stare became vacant under the rumbling of the storm +and the driving of the snow; one could not have told whether he was +looking with eyes or with lumps of ice. + +Shadows were flitting across the snowdrifts. They were the outlines of +objects lit up by the fire; they trembled on the window-frames; the +fire flickered, and the shadows treacherously caressed the images of +saints on the walls. The beam played on the window, threw a red light +on the short posts of the railing, and disappeared in pursuit of the +wind in the fields. + +'Yakob...Yakob...Yakob!' + +And he had really had nothing to do with it! It had all gone against +him continuously, pertinaciously, and to no purpose. It had attached +itself to him, clung to the dry flour that flew about in atoms in the +tin where the bit of cheese also was kept. It had bewitched the +creaking of the windows on their hinges; it had stared from the empty +seats along the walls. + +But he kept on beating his breast. His forehead was wrinkled in +dried-up folds, his brows bristled fantastically into shaggy, dirty tufts. +His heavy, blunt nose, powdered with hairs at the tip, stood out +obstinately between two deep folds on either side. These folds overhung +the corners of his mouth, and were joined below the chin by a network +of pallid veins. A noise, light as a beetle's wing, came in puffs from +the half-open lips; they were swollen and purple like an overgrown +bean. + +Yakob had been sitting in Turkish fashion, his hands crossed over his +chest, breathing forth his misery so quietly that it covered him, +together with the hoar-frost, stopped his ears and made the tufts of +hair on his chest glitter. He was hugging his sorrow to himself, +abandoning the last remnant of hope, and longing for deliverance. +Behind the wrinkles of his forehead there swarmed a multitude not so +much of pictures as of ghosts of the past, yet vividly present. + +At last he got up and sat down on the bench in the chimney-corner, drew +a pipe from his trouser-pocket and put it between his teeth, forgetting +to light it. He laid his heavy hands round the stem. Beyond the +blizzard and the shadow-play of the flame, there appeared to him the +scene of his wife and daughters' flight. He had given up everything he +possessed, had taken off his sheepskin, had himself loosened the cow +from the post. For a short moment he had caught sight of his wife and +daughters again in the distance, tramping through the snow as they +passed the cross-roads, then they had been swallowed up in a mass of +people, horses, guns, carts, shouts and curses. Since then he had +constantly fancied that he was being called, yet he knew that there was +no one to call him. His thoughts were entirely absorbed in what he had +seen then. With his wife all his possessions had gone. Now there was +nothing but silence, surrounding him with a sharp breath of pain and +death. + +By day and by night Yakob had listened to the shots that struck his +cottage and his pear-trees. He chewed a bit of cheese from time to +time, and gulped down with it the bitter fear that his cottage might be +set on fire. + +For here and there, like large red poppies on the snow, the glare of +burning homesteads leapt up into the sky. + +'Here I am...watching,' he said to himself, when he looked at these +blood-red graves. He smiled at the sticks of firewood on his hearth, +which was the dearest thing on earth to him. The walls of his cottage +were one with his inmost being, and every moment when he saw them +standing, seemed to him like precious savings which he was putting +away. So he watched for several days; the vermin were overrunning the +place, and he was becoming desperate. Since mid-day the silence had +deepened; the day declined, and there was nothing in the world but +solitude and snow. + +Yakob went over to the window. The snow was lying deep on the fields, +like a shimmering coat of varnish; the world was bathed in the light of +a pale, wan moon. The forest-trees stood out here and there in blue +points, like teeth. Large and brilliant the stars looked down, and +above the milky way, veiled in vapours, hung the sickle of the moon. + +While in the immensity of the night cold and glittering worlds were +bowing down before the eternal, Yakob looked, and noticed something +approaching from the mountains. Along the heights and slopes there was +a long chain of lights; it was opening out from the centre into two +lines on either side, which looked as though they were lost in the +forest. Below them there were confused gleams in the fields, and +behind, in the distance, the glow of the burning homesteads. + +'They have burned the vicarage,' thought Yakob, and his heart answered: +'and here am I...watching.' + +He pressed against the window-frame, glued his grey face to the panes +and, trembling with cold, sent out an obstinate and hostile glance into +space, as though determined to obtain permission to keep his own +heritage. + +Suddenly he pricked up his ears. Something was approaching from the +distance across the forest very cautiously. The snow was creaking under +the advancing steps. In the great silence it sounded like the forging +of iron. Those were horses' hoofs stamping the snow. + +This sound, suppressed as it was, produced in him a peculiar sensation +which starts in the head and grips you in the nape of the neck, the +consciousness that someone is hiding close to you. + +Yakob stood quite still at the window, not even moving his pipe from +one corner of his mouth to the other. Not he himself seemed to be +trembling, only his rags. + +The door was suddenly thrown open and a soldier appeared on the +threshold. The light of a lantern which was suspended on his chest, +filled the room. + +Yakob's blood was freezing. Cossacks, hairy like bears, were standing +in the opening of the door, the snow which covered them was shining +like a white flame. In the courtyard there were steaming horses; +lanceheads were glittering like reliquaries. + +Yakob understood that they were calling him 'old man', and asking him +questions. He extended his hands to express that he knew nothing. Some +of the Cossacks entered, and made signs to him to make up the fire. + +He noticed that they were bringing more horses into the yard, small, +shaggy ponies like wolves. + +He became calmer, and his fear disappeared; he only remained cautious +and observant; everything that happened seemed to take hours, yet he +saw it with precision. + +'It is cold...it is cold!' + +He made up the fire for these bandits who stretched themselves on the +benches; he felt they were talking and laughing about him, and he +turned to them and nodded; he thought it would please them if he showed +that he approved of them. They asked him about God knows what, where +they were, and where they were not. As though he knew! + +Then they started all over again, while they swung their booted legs +under the seats. One of them came up to the hearth, and clapped the +crouching Yakob on his back for fun, but it hurt. It was a resounding +smack. Yakob scratched himself and rumpled his hair, unable to +understand. + +They boiled water and made tea; a smell of sausages spread about the +room. Yakob bit his jaws together and looked at the fire. He sat in his +place as though he had been glued to it. + +His ears were tingling when he heard the soldiers grinding their teeth +on their food, tearing the skin off the sausages and smacking their +lips. + +A large and painful void was gaping in his inside. + +They devoured their food fast and noisily, and an odour of brandy began +to fill the room, and contracted Yakob's throat. + +He understood that they were inviting him to share the meal, but he +felt uneasy about that, and though his stomach seemed to have shrunk, +and the sausage-skins and bones which they had thrown away lay quite +close to him, he could not make up his mind to move and pick them up. + +'Come on!' + +The soldier beckoned to him. 'Come here!' + +The old man felt that he was weakening, the savoury smell took +possession of him. + +But 'I shan't go,' he thought. The soldier, gnawing a bone, repeated, +'Come on!' + +'I shan't go,' thought Yakob, and spat into the fire, to assure himself +that he was not going. All the same...the terribly tempting smell made +him more and more feeble. + +At last two of them got up, took him under the arms, and sat him down +between them. + +They made signs to him, they held the sausage under his nose; the tea +was steaming, the brandy smelt delicious. + +Yakob put his hands on the table, then put them behind him. Black +shadows were gesticulating on the walls. He felt unhappy about sharing +a meal with people without knowing what they were, never having seen or +known them before. They were Russians, thus much he knew. He had a +vision of something that happened long ago, he could not distinctly +remember what it was, for it happened so very long ago; his grandfather +had come home from the fair that was held in the town, shivering and +groaning. There had been outcries and curses. + +'They are going to poison me like a dog,' he thought. + +The wind was changing and moaning under the roof. The fire flickered up +and went down; the red flame and the darkness were dancing together on +the walls. The wan moon was looking in at the window. Yakob was sitting +on the bench among the soldiers like his own ghost. + +'They are surely going to poison me,' he kept repeating to himself. He +was still racking his memory as to what it was that had happened so +long ago to his grandfather during the fair, at the inn. God knows what +it was...who could know anything? + +'They are going to poison me!' + +His sides were heaving with his breath, he was trying to breathe +carefully, so as not to smell the repast. + +The shadows on the walls seemed to jeer at him. The soldiers were +beginning to talk thickly; their mouths, their fingers were shining +with grease. They took off their belts and laid their swords aside. The +one next to Yakob put his arm round his neck and whispered in his ear; +his red mouth was quite close; he passed his hand over Yakob's head, +and brought his arm right round his throat. He was young and he was +talking of his father. + +'Daddy,' he said, and put the sausage between his teeth. + +Yakob tried to clench his teeth; but he bit the sausage at the same +time. + +'Daddy,' said the young soldier again, holding out the sausage for +another bite; he stroked his head, looked into his eyes, and laughed. +Yakob was sorry for himself. Was he to be fed like a half-blind old +man? Couldn't he eat by himself? + +When the soldiers saw that Yakob was eating, they burst into shouts of +laughter, and stamped their feet, rattling their spurs. + +He knew they were laughing at him, and it made him easier in his mind +to see that he was affording them pleasure. He purposely made himself +ridiculous with the vague idea that he must do something for them in +payment of what they were giving him; they struck him on the +shoulder-blades to see him gasp with his beanlike mouth, and to see the +frightened smile run over his face like a flash of lightning. + +He ate as though from bravado, but he ate well. They started drinking +again. Yakob looked at them with eagerness, his arms folded over his +stomach, his head bent forward; the hairy hand of the captain put the +bottle to his mouth. + +Now he could laugh his own natural laugh again, and not only from +bravado, for he felt quite happy. His frozen body was getting warmed +through. + +He felt as if a great danger had irrevocably passed. + +Gradually he became garrulous, although they hardly understood what he +was talking about: 'Yes, the sausage was good... to be sure!' He nodded +his head and clicked his tongue; he also approved of the huge chunks of +bread, and whenever the bottle was passed round, he put his head on one +side and folded his hands, as if he were listening to a sermon. From +his neighbour's encircling black sleeve the old face peeped out with +equanimity, looking like a withering poppy. + +'Daddy,' the loquacious Cossack would say from time to time, and point +in the direction of the mountains; tears were standing in his eyes. + +Yakob put his swollen hand on his, and waited for him to say more. + +The soldier held his hand, pointed in the direction of the mountains +again, and sniffled. + +'He respects old age... they are human, there's no denying it,' thought +Yakob, and got up to put more wood on the fire. + +They seized hold of him, they would not allow him to do it. A young +soldier jumped up: 'Sit down, you are old.' + +Yakob held out his empty pipe, and the captain himself filled it. + +So there he sat, among these armed bandits. They were dressed in +sheepskins and warm materials, had sheepskin caps on their heads; there +was he with his bare arms, in well-worn grey trousers, his shirt +fastened together at the neck with a piece of wood. Sitting among them, +defenceless as a centipede, without anyone belonging to him, puffing +clouds of smoke, he inwardly blessed this adventure, in which +everything had turned out so well. The Cossacks looked at the fire, and +they too said: 'This is very nice, very nice.' + +To whom would not a blazing fire on a cold winter's night appeal? + +They got more and more talkative and asked: 'Where are your wife and +children?' They probably too had wives and children! + +'My wife,' he said, 'has gone down to the village, she was afraid.' +They laughed and tapped their chests: 'War is a bad thing, who would +not be afraid?' Yakob assented all the more readily as he felt that for +him the worst was over. + +'Do you know the way to the village?' suddenly asked the captain. He +was almost hidden in clouds of tobacco-smoke, but in his eyes there was +a gleam, hard and sinister, like a bullet in a puff of smoke. + +Yakob did not answer. How should he not know the way? + +They started getting up, buckled on their belts and swords. + +Yakob jumped up to give them the rest of the sausages and food which +had been left on the plates. But they would only take the brandy, and +left the tobacco and the broken meat. + +'That will be for you...afterwards,' said the young Cossack, took a red +muffler off his neck and put it round Yakob's shoulder. + +'That will keep you warm.' + +Yakob laughed back at him, and submitted to having the muffler knotted +tightly round his throat. The young soldier drew a pair of trousers +from his kitbag: 'Those will keep you warm, you are old.' He told him a +long story about the trousers; they had belonged to his brother who had +been killed. + +'You know, it's lucky to wear things like that. Poor old fellow!' + +Yakob stood and looked at the breeches. In the fire-light they seemed +to be trembling like feeble and stricken legs. He laid his hand on them +and smiled, a little defiant and a little touched. + +'You may have them, you may have them,' grunted the captain, and +insisted on his putting them on at once. + +When he had put them on in the chimney-corner and showed himself, they +were all doubled up with laughter. He looked appalling in the black +trousers which were much too large for him, a grey hood and the red +muffler. His head wobbled above the red line as if it had been fixed on +a bleeding neck. The rags on his chest showed the thin, hairy body, the +stiff folds of the breeches produced an effect as if he were not +walking on the ground but floating above it. + +The captain gave the command, the soldiers jumped up and looked once +more round the cottage; the young Cossack put the sausage and meat in a +heap and covered it with a piece of bread. 'For you,' he said once +more, and they turned to leave. + +Yakob went out with them to bid them Godspeed. A vague presentiment +seized him on the threshold, when he looked out at the frozen world, +the stars, like nails fixed into the sky, and the light of the moon on +everything. He was afraid. + +The men went up to their horses, and he saw that there were others +outside. The wind ruffled the shaggy little ponies' manes and threw +snow upon them. The horses, restless, began to bite each other, and the +Cossacks, scattered on the snow like juniper-bushes, reined them in. + +The cottage-door remained open. The lucky horseshoe, nailed to the +threshold, glittered in the light of the hearth, which threw blood-red +streaks between the legs of the table, across the door and beyond it on +to the snow. + +'I wonder whether they will ever return to their families?' he thought, +and: 'How queer it is that one should meet people like that.' + +He was sorry for them. + +The captain touched his arm and asked the way. + +'Straight on.' + +'Far?' + +'No, not far, not at all far.' + +'Where is it?' + +The little group stood in front of him by the side of their wolf-like +ponies. He drew back into the cottage. + +The thought confusedly crossed his mind: 'After all, we did sit +together and ate together, two and two, like friends.' + +He began hurriedly, 'Turn to the left at the crossroads, then across +the fields as far as Gregor's cottage...' + +The captain made a sign that he did not understand. + +He thought: 'Perhaps they will lose their way and make a fuss; then +they will come back to the cottage and eat the meat. I will go with +them as far as the cross-roads.' + +They crept down the road, passed the clump of pine-trees which came out +in a point beside the brook, and went along the valley on the slippery +stones. A large block of ice lay across the brook, shaped like a silver +plough; the waves surrounded it as with golden crescents. The snow +creaked under the soldiers' feet. Yakob walked beside them on his +sandals, like a silent ghost. + +'Now keep straight on as far as the cross,' he said, pointing to a dark +object with a long shadow. 'I can't see anything,' said the captain. He +accompanied them as far as the cross, by the side of which stood a +little shrine; the wan saint was wearing a crown of icicles. + +From that point the village could be seen across the fields. Yakob +discovered that the chain of lights which he had observed earlier in +the evening, had come down from the mountains, for it now seemed to be +close to the village. + +Silence reigned in the sleeping world, every step could be heard. + +This silence filled Yakob's heart with a wild fear; he turned round +with a feeling of helplessness and looked back at his cottage. Probably +the fire was now going out; a red glow appeared and disappeared on the +windows. + +Beyond the cross the road lay through low-lying ground, and was crossed +by another road which led abruptly downwards into fields. Yakob +hesitated. + +'Come on, old man, come on,' they called to him, and walked on without +waiting for his answer. The Cossacks dug their heels into the rugged +ice of the road, and tumbled about in all directions. They had left +their horses at the cross-roads. Each one kept a close hold on his gun, +so that there should be no noise. They were whispering to each other; +it sounded as if a congregation were murmuring their prayers. Yakob led +them, and mentally he held fast to every bush, every lump of ice, +saying to himself at every step that now he was going to leave them, +they could not miss the road now. But he was afraid. + +They no longer whispered, they had become taciturn as they pushed +onwards, stumbling, breathing hard. + +'As far as Gregor's cottage, and then no more!' + +The effect of the drink was passing off. He rubbed his eyes, drew his +rags across his chest. 'What was he doing, leading these people about +on this night?' + +He suddenly stopped where the field-road crossed theirs; the soldiers +in front and behind threw themselves down. It was as if the ground had +swallowed them. + +A black horse was standing in the middle of the road, with extended +nostrils. Its black mane, covered with hoar-frost, was tossed about its +head; the saddle-bags, which were fur-lined, swung in the breeze; large +dark drops were falling from its leg to the ground. + +'Damn it!' cursed the captain. + +The horse looked meekly at them, and stretched its head forward +submissively. Yakob was sorry for the creature; perhaps one could do +something for it. He stood still beside it, and again pointed out the +road. + +'I have done enough, I shan't go any further!' He scratched his head +and smiled, thinking that this was a good opportunity for escape. + +'Come on,' hissed the captain so venomously in his ear that he marched +forward without delay; they followed. + +A dull fear mixed with resentment gripped him with terrible force. He +now ran at the head like a sheep worried by watch-dogs. + +They stopped in front of the cottage, silent, breathless, expectant. + +Yakob looked at his companions with boundless astonishment. Their faces +under their fur-caps had a tense, cruel look, their brows were +wrinkled, their eyes glittered. + +From all sides other Cossacks were advancing. + +He noticed only now that there were some lying concealed behind the +fence on the straw in a confused mass. + +He shuddered; thick drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. The +beating of his heart filled his head like the noise of a hammer, it +seemed to fill everything. In spite of the feeling that he was being +forced to do this thing, he again heard the voice calling: 'Yakob, +Yakob!' + +Up the hillock where Gregor's cottage stood, they advanced on all +fours. + +He clambered upwards, thinking of his wife, and of the cow he had +loosed. Fear veiled his eyes, he saw black spots dancing. + +Gregor's cottage was empty as a graveyard. It had been abandoned; the +open doors creaked on their hinges. Under the window stood a cradle, +covered with snow. + +Silently the soldiers surrounded the cottage, and Yakob went with them, +as though mesmerized by terror, mute and miserable. + +They had hardly got round, when a red glow shot up from the other side +of the village. The soldiers threw themselves down in the snow. + +The thundering of guns began on all sides; blood-red lights came flying +overhead. An appalling noise broke out, reinforced by the echo from the +mountains, as though the whole world were going to perish. The Cossacks +advanced, trembling. + +Yakob advanced with them, for the captain had hit him across the head. +He saw stars when he received the blow, gesticulated wildly, and +staggered along the road. + +He could distinguish the road running out from the forest like a silver +thread. As they advanced, they came under a diabolically heavy rifle +fire; bullets were raining upon them from all sides. + +Here and there he heard moans already, when one of the soldiers fell +bleeding on the snow. Close to him fell the young Cossack who had given +him the muffler and breeches. He held out his hand, groaning. Yakob +wanted to stop, but the captain would not let him, but rapped him over +the head again with his knuckles. + +The soldiers lay in heaps. The rest wavered, fell back, hid in the +ditch or threw themselves down. The rifle-fire came nearer, the +outlines and faces of the advancing enemy could already be +distinguished. Another blow on the head stretched Yakob to the ground, +and he feigned death. The Cossacks retreated, the others advanced, and +he understood that they belonged to his friends. + +When he got up, he was immediately surrounded by them, taken by the +scruff of the neck and so violently shaken, that he tumbled on his +knees. Gunfire was roaring from the mountains, shadows of soldiers +flitted past him, the wounded Cossacks groaned in the snow. Young, +well-nourished looking men were bending over him. + +Looking up into their faces, he crossed his hands over his chest and +laughed joyfully. + +'Ah, those Russians, those Russians...the villains!' he croaked, 'aho, +aho, ho hurlai!' He rolled his tear-filled eyes. + +Things were happening thick and fast. From where the chimney stood +close to the water, near the manor-house, the village was burning. He +could feel the heat and soot and hear the shouting of the crowd through +the noise of the gunfire. Now he would see his wife and children again, +the friendly soldiers surely had saved them. The young Cossack was +still struggling on the ground; now he stretched himself out for his +eternal sleep. 'Ah, the villains!' Yakob repeated; the great happiness +which filled his heart rushed to his lips in incoherent babblings. 'The +villains, they have served me nicely!' + +He felt his bleeding head, crouched on his heels and got up. The fleshy +red faces were still passing close to him, breathing harder and harder. +Fear rose and fell in him like the flames of the burning village; again +everything was swallowed up in indescribable noise. + +Suddenly Yakob began to sob; he threw himself down at the soldiers' +feet and wept bitterly, as though he would weep out his soul and the +marrow of his bones. + +They lifted him up, almost unconscious, and took him along the high +road, under escort with fixed bayonets. His tears fell fast upon the +snow, and thus he came into his own village, among his own people, pale +as a corpse, with poison in his heart. + +He looked dully at the blazing wooden church-spire where it stood +enveloped in flames as though wrapped in an inflated glittering cloak. +Dully he let his eyes wander over the hedges and fences; everything +seemed unreal, as things seen across a distant wave or a downpour of +rain, out of reach and strange. + +He was standing where the field-path joined the high road. The soldiers +sat down on a heap of stones and lighted their cigarettes. + +Yakob, trembling all over, looked at his own black shadow; fugitives +arrived from the burning village and swarmed past him; the rifle fire +now sounded from the direction of the mountains. + +Suddenly Gregor's cottage burst into flames. A blood-red glow inflated +the clouds of smoke, trembled on the snow and ran over the pine-trees +like gold. + +Soldiers were arriving from that direction, streaming with blood, +supported by their comrades. + +Yakob stood motionless, looking at his shadow; fear was burning within +him. He looked at the sky above the awful chaos on the earth, and +became calmer. He tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come, had given him food. His wife and children were probably +safe in the manor-house. Blinking his swollen eyelids, he tried to +deceive himself, crouched down near the guard who was smoking, and +asked him for fire. His fear miraculously disappeared. + +He began to talk rapidly to the soldier: 'I was sitting...the wind was +moaning...' he told him circumstantially how he was sitting, what he +had been thinking, how the shots had struck his cottage. + +The soldier put his rifle between his knees, crossed his hands over his +sleeves, spat out and sighed. + +'But you have had underhand dealings with the Russians.' + +'No...no.' + +'Tell that to another.' + +'I shall,' replied Yakob calmly. + +'And who showed them the way?' + +'Who?' said Yakob. + +'Who showed them the way over here? Or did they find it on the map?' + +'Yes, on the map,' assented Yakob, as though he were quite convinced. + +'Well, who did?' said the soldier, wagging his head. + +'Who?' repeated Yakob like an echo. + +'I suppose it wasn't I?' said the soldier. + +'I?' asked Yakob. + +The other three soldiers approached inquisitively to where Yakob was +crouching. + +'A nice mess you've made,' one of them said, pointing to the wounded +who were arriving across the fields. 'Do you understand?' + +Yakob fixed his eyes on the soldiers' boots, and would not look in +that, direction. But he could not understand what it all meant...all +this noise, and the firing that ran from hill to hill. + +'Nice mess this you've made, old man.' + +'Yes.' + +'You!' + +Yakob looked up at them, and had the sensation of being deep down at +the bottom of a well instead of crouching at their feet. + +'That is a lie, a lie, a lie!' he cried, beating his chest; his hair +stood on end. The soldiers sat down in a row on the stones. They were +young, cold, tired. + +'But now they'll play the deuce with you.' + +'Why?' said Yakob softly, glancing sideways at them. + +'You're an old ass,' remarked one of them. + +'But,' he began again, 'I was sitting, looking at the snow....' + +He had a great longing to talk to them, they looked as if they would +understand, although they were so young. + +'I was sitting...give me some fire...do you come from these parts +yourselves?' They did not answer. + +He thought of his cottage, the bread and sausage, the black horse at +the cross-roads. + +'They beat me,' he sobbed, covering his face with his rags. + +The soldiers shrugged their shoulders: 'Why did you let them?' + +'O...O...O!' cried the old man. But tears would no longer wash away a +conviction which was taking possession of him, searing his soul as the +flames seared the pines. 'Why did you let them? Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?' + +No, he was not ashamed of himself for that. But that he had shown them +the way...the way they had come by...what did it all mean? All his +tears would not wash away this conviction: that he had shown them the +way...the way they had come by. + +Guns were thundering from the hills, the village was burning, the mill +was burning...a black mass of people was surrounding him. More and more +wounded came in from the fields, covered with grey mud. The flying +sparks from the mill fell at his feet. + +A detachment of soldiers was returning. + +'Get up, old man,' cried his guard; 'we're off!' Yakob jumped to his +feet, hitched up his trousers, and went off perplexed, under cover of +four bayonets that seemed to carry a piece of sky between them like a +starred canopy. + +His fear grew as he approached the village. He did not see the familiar +cottages and hedges; he felt as though he were moving onwards without a +goal. Moving onwards and yet not getting any farther. Moving onwards +and yet hoping not to get to the end of the journey. + +He sucked his pipe and paid no attention to anything; but the village +was on his conscience. + +The fear which filled his heart was nob like that which he had felt +when the Cossacks arrived, but a senseless fear, depriving him of sight +and hearing...as though there were no place for him in the world. + +'Are we going too fast?' asked the guard hearing Yakob's heavy +breathing. + +'All right, all right,' he answered cheerfully. The friendly words had +taken his fear away. + +'Take it easy,' said the soldier. 'We will go more slowly. Here's a dry +cigarette, smoke.' + +Without turning round, he offered Yakob a cigarette, which he put +behind his ear. + +They entered the village. It smelt of burning, like a gipsy camp. The +road seemed to waver in the flickering of the flames, the wind howled +in the timber. + +Yakob looked at the sky. Darkness and stars melted into one. + +He would not look at the village. He knew there were only women and +children in the cottages, the men had all gone. This thought was a +relief to him, he hardly knew why. + +Meanwhile the detachment of soldiers, instead of going to the +manor-house, had turned down a narrow road which led to the mill. They +stopped and formed fours. Every stone here was familiar to Yakob, and +yet, standing in the snow up to his knees, he was puzzled as to where +he was. If he could only sleep off this nightmare...he did not +recognize the road...the night was far advanced, and the village not +asleep as usual...if they would only let him go home! + +He would return to-morrow. + +The mill was burning out. Cinders were flying across from the +granaries; the smoke bit into the eyes of the people who were standing +about looking upwards, with their arms crossed. + +Everything showed up brilliantly in the glare; the water was dripping +from rung to rung of the silent wheel, and mixed its sound with that of +the fire. + +The adjoining buildings were fenced round with a small running fire; +smoke whirled round the tumbling roof like a shock of hair shot through +with flames. The faces of the bystanders assumed a metallic glow. + +The wails of the miller and his family could be heard through the noise +of battle, of water, and of fire. + +It was as if the crumbling walls, the melting joints, the smoke, the +cries were dripping down the wheel, transformed into blood, and were +carried down by the black waves and swallowed up in the infinite abyss +of the night. + +'They beat me....' Yakob justified himself to himself, when the tears +rose to his eyes again. No tears could wash away the conviction that it +was he who had shown them the way by which they had come. + +The first detachment was waiting for the arrival of the second. It +arrived, bringing in prisoners, Cossacks. A large number of them were +being marched along; they did not walk in order but irregularly, like +tired peasants. They were laughing, smoking cigarettes, and pushing +against each other. Among them were those who had come to his cottage; +he recognized the captain and others. + +When they saw Yakob they waved their hands cordially and called out to +him, 'Old man, old man!' + +Yakob did not reply; he shrunk into himself. Shame filled his soul. He +looked at them vacantly. His forehead was wrinkled as with a great +effort to remember something, but he could think of nothing but a huge +millwheel turning under red, smooth waves. Suddenly he remembered: it +was the young Cossack who had given him his brother's clothes. + +'The other one,' he shouted, pointing to his muffler, 'where did you +leave him?' + +Soldiers came between them and pushed the crowd away. + +There was a terrific crash in the mill; a thick red cloud rushed +upwards, dotted with sparks. Under this cloud an ever-increasing mass +of people was flocking towards the spot where Yakob was; they were +murmuring, pulling the soldiers by their cloaks. Women, children, and +old men pressed in a circle round him, gesticulating, shouting: 'It was +he...he...he!' + +Words were lost in the chaos of sounds, faces became merely a dense +mass, above which fists were flung upwards like stones. + +Yakob tripped about among the soldiers like a fawn in a cage, raised +and lowered his head, and clutched his rags; he could not shut his +quivering mouth, and from his breast came a cry like the sob of a +child. + +The crowd turned upon him with fists and nails; he hid his face in his +rags, stopped his ears with his fingers, and shook his head. + +The prisoners had been dispatched, and it was Yakob's turn to be taken +before the officer in command of the battalion. + +'Say that I...that I...' Yakob entreated his guard. + +'What are you in such a hurry for?' + +'Say that I...' + +The soldiers were sitting round a camp-fire, piling up the faggots. +Soup was boiling in a cauldron. + +'Say that I...' he begged again, standing in the thick smoke. + +At last he was taken into the school-house. + +The officer in command stood in the middle of the room with a cigarette +between his fingers. + +'I...I...' groaned Yakob, already in the door. His dishevelled hair +made him look like a sea-urchin; his face was quite disfigured with +black marks of violence; behind his bleeding left ear still stuck the +cigarette. His swollen upper lip was drawn sideways and gave him the +expression of a ghastly smile. His eyes looked out helpless, +dispirited, from his swollen lids. + +'What do you want to say?' asked the officer, without looking at him. +Something suddenly came over him. + +'It was I,' he said hoarsely. + +The soldier made his report. + +'They gave me food,' Yakob said, 'and this muffler and breeches, and +they beat me.' + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +'It was.' + +'You did show them the way?' + +He nodded. + +'Did they beat you in the cottage?' + +Yakob hesitated. 'In the cottage we were having supper.' + +'They beat you afterwards, on the way?' + +He again hesitated, and looked into the officer's eyes. They were +clear, calm eyes. The guard came a step nearer. + +The officer looked down, turned towards the window and asked more +gently: 'You had supper together in the cottage. Then you went out with +them. Did they beat you on the way?' + +He turned suddenly and looked at Yakob. The peasant stood, looked at +the grey snowflakes outside the window, and his face, partly black, +partly pallid, was wrinkled in deep folds. + +'Well, what have you got to say?' + +'It was I...' This interrogation made him alternately hot and cold. + +'You who beat them, and not they who beat you?' laughed the officer. + +'The meat is still there in the cottage, and here is what they gave +me,' he said, holding up the muffler and tobacco. + +The officer threw his cigarette away and turned on his heel. Yakob's +eyes became dull, his arm with the muffler dropped. + +The officer wrote an order. 'Take him away.' They passed the +schoolmaster and some women and soldiers in the passage. + +'Well...well...' they whispered, leaning against the wall. + +The guard made a sign with his hand. Yakob, behind him, looked dully +into the startled faces of the bystanders. + +'How frightened he looks...how they have beaten him...how frightened he +looks!' they murmured. + +He put the muffler round his neck again, for he felt cold. + +'That's him, that's him,' growled the crowd outside. + +The manor-house was reached. The light from the numerous windows fell +upon horses and gun-carriages drawn up in the yard. + +'What do you want?' cried the sentry to the crowd, pushing them back. + +He nodded towards Yakob. 'Where is he to go?' + +'That sort...' murmured the crowd. Yakob's guard delivered his order. +They stopped in the porch. The pillars threw long shadows which lost +themselves towards the fence and across the waves of the stream beyond, +in the darkness of the night. + +The heat in the waiting-room was overpowering. This was the room where +the bailiff had so often given him his pay. The office no longer +existed. Soldiers were lying asleep everywhere. + +They passed on into a brilliantly lighted room. The staff was quartered +there. The general took a few steps across the room, murmured something +and stood still in front of Yakob. + +'Ah, that is the man?' he turned and looked at Yakob with his blue eyes +that shot glances quick as lightning from under bushy grey eyebrows. + +'It was I,' ejaculated Yakob hoarsely. + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +Yakob became calmer. He felt he would be able to make himself more +quickly understood here. 'It was.' + +'You brought them here?' + +'Yes.' + +He passed his hand over his hair and shrank into himself again. He +looked at the brilliant lights. + +'Do you know what is the punishment for that?' + +The general came a step nearer; Yakob felt overawed by the feeling of +strength and power that emanated from him. He was choking. Yes, he +understood and yet did not understand.' + +'What have you got to say for yourself!' + +'We had supper together...' he began, but stopped, for the general +frowned and eyed him coldly. Yakob looked towards the window and +listened to hear the sound of wind and waves. The general was still +looking at him, and so they stood for a moment which seemed an eternity +to Yakob, the man in the field-grey uniform who looked as if he had +been sculptured in stone, and the quailing, shrunken, shivering form, +covered with dirt and rags. Yakob felt as though a heavy weight were +resting on him. Then both silently looked down. + +'Take him back to the battalion.' + +The steely sound of the command moved something in the souls of the +soldiers, and took the enjoyment of their sleep from them. + +They returned to the school-house. The crowd, as though following a +thief caught in the act, ran by their side again. + +They found room for the old man in a shed, some one threw him a +blanket. Soldiers were sleeping in serried ranks. Their heavy breathing +mixed with the sound of wind and waves, and the cold blue light of the +moon embraced everything. + +Yakob buried himself in the straw, looked out through a hole in the +boarding and wept bitterly. + +'What are you crying for?' asked the sentry outside, and tapped his +shoulder with his gun. + +Yakob did not answer. + +'Thinking of your wife?' the soldier gossiped, walking up and down +outside the shed. 'You're old, what good is your wife to you?' The +soldier stopped and stretched his arms till the joints cracked. + +'Or your children? Never mind, they'll get on in the world without a +helpless old man like you.' + +Yakob was silent, and the soldier crouched down near him. + +'Old man, you ought...' + +'No...' tremblingly came from the inside. + +'You see,' the soldier paced up and down again, 'you are thinking of +your cottage. I can understand that. But do you think the cottage will +be any the worse off for your death?' + +The soldier's simple and dour words outside in the blue night, his talk +of Yakob's death, of his own death which might come at any moment, +slowly brought sleep to Yakob. + +In the morning he awoke with a start. The sun was shining on the snow, +the mountains glittered like glass. The trees on the slopes were +covered with millions of shining crystals; freshness floated between +heaven and earth. Yakob stepped out of the shed, greeted the sentry and +sat down on the boards, blinking his eyes. + +The air was fresh and cold, tiny atoms of hoarfrost were flying about. +Yakob felt the sun's warmth thawing his limbs, caressing him. He let +himself be absorbed into the pure, rosy morning. + +Doors creaked, and voices rang out clear and fresh. Opposite to him a +squadron of Uhlans were waiting at the farrier's, who came out, black +as a charcoal-burner, and chatted with them. They were laughing, their +eyes shone. From inside the forge the hammer rang out like a bell. +Yakob held his head in his hand and listened. At each stroke he shut +his eyes. The soldiers brought him a cup of hot coffee; he drank it and +lighted his pipe. + +The murmuring of the brook, punctuated by the hammer-strokes, +stimulated his thoughts till they became clearer, limpid as the stream. + +'It was I...it was I...' he silently confided to all the fresh voices +of the morning. + +The guard again took him away with fixed bayonets. He knew where he was +going. They would go through the village and stop at the wall of the +cemetery. + +The sky was becoming overcast, the beauty of the morning was waning. +They called at the school-house for orders. Yakob remained outside the +open window. + +'I won't...' he heard a voice. + +'Nor I...' another. + +Yakob leant against the fence, supported his temples on his fists and +watched the snow-clouds and mists. + +A feeling of immense, heavy weariness came over him, and made him limp. +He could see the ruins of the mill, the tumbled-down granaries, the +broken doors. The water trickled down the wheel; smoke and soot were +floating on the water, yet the water flowed on. + +Guilty...not guilty.... What did it all matter? + +'Do you hear?' he asked of the water. 'Do you hear?' he asked of his +wife and children and his little property. + +They took him here and they took him there. They made him wait outside +houses, and he sat down on the steps as if he had never been used to +anything else. He picked up a dry branch and gently tapped the snow +with it and waited. He waited as in a dream, going round and round the +wish that it might all be over soon. + +While he was waiting, the crowd amused themselves with shaking their +fists at him; he was thankful that his wife seemed to have gone away to +the town and did not see him. + +At last his guard went off in a bad temper. A soldier on horseback +remained with him. + +'Come on, old man,' he said, 'no one will have anything to do with it.' + +Yakob glanced at him; the soldier and his horse seemed to be towering +above the cottages, above the trees of the park with their flocks of +circling crows. He looked into the far distance. + +'It was I.' + +'You're going begging, old man.' + +Again they began their round, and behind them followed the miller's +wife and other women. His legs were giving way, as though they were +rushes. He took off his cap and gave a tired look in the direction of +his cottage. + +At last they joined a detachment which was starting off on the old +road. They went as far as Gregor's cottage, then to the cross-roads, +and in single file down the path. From time to time isolated gunshots +rang out. + +They sat down by the side of a ditch. + +'We've got to finish this business,' said the sergeant, and scratched +his head. 'No one would come forward voluntarily... I have been +ordered....' + +The soldiers looked embarrassed and drew away, looking at Yakob. + +He hid his head between his knees, and his thoughts dwelt on +everything, sky, water, mountains, fire. + +His heart was breaking; a terrible sweat stood on his brows. + +Shots rang out. + +A deep groan escaped from Yakob's breast, a groan like a winter-wind. +He sprang up, stood on the edge of the ditch, sighed with all the +strength of his old breast and fell like a branch. + +Puffs of smoke rose from the ditch and from the forests. + + + + + + + +'P.P.C.' + +(A LADY'S NARRATIVE) + + +[An incident during the early part of the World War, when the Russians, +retreating before the victorious Austro-German armies, destroyed +everything.] + +BY + +MME RYGIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +I + + +At the time when the bridges over the Vistula still existed, connecting +by stone and iron the banks of the town now split in two, I drove to +the opposite side of the river into the country to my abandoned home, +for I thought I might still succeed in transporting to the town the +rest of the articles I had left behind, and so preserve them from a +doubtful fate. + +I was specially anxious to bring back the cases full of books that had +been early packed and duly placed in a garret. They included one part +of the library that had long ago been removed, but owing to their +considerable weight they had been passed over in the hurry of the first +removal. + +The house had been locked up and entrusted to the sure care of Martin, +an old fellow bent half to the ground, who with his wife also kept an +eye on the rest of the buildings, the garden, and the forest. + +When I arrived I found the whole of my wild, forgotten forest-world +absolutely changed and transformed into one great camp. But the empty +wood was moving like a living thing, like the menacing 'Birnam wood' +before the eyes of Macbeth. It was full of an army, with each of their +handsome big horses tied to a pine in the forest. Farther off across +the roots could be seen small grey tents stretched on logs. Most of the +exhausted blackened men were lying all over the ground and sleeping +among the quiet beasts. Along the peaceful, silky forest paths, in a +continuous line, like automobiles in the Monte Pincio park, stood small +field kitchens on wheels, gunpowder boxes, and carts. + +At the foot of the forest, on the flowery meadow, unmown this year, +were feeding pretty Ukraine cattle driven from some distant place. +Quiet little sheep, not brought up in our country, were eating grass on +a neighbouring hillock. + +Martin's bent figure was hastily coming along the road from the house, +making unintelligible signs. When he was quite close he explained in a +low discontented voice, and as if washing his hands of all +responsibility, that I had been robbed. 'I was going round,' he said, +'this very morning, as it was my duty to do. There was no one to be +seen. Now the whole forest is full of soldiers. They came, opened the +house, and stole absolutely everything. My wife came upon them as they +were going out!' + +'What? Stole everything?' I asked. + +Martin was silent a moment; at last he said: 'Well, for instance, the +samovar; absolutely everything!' + +I found the front door, in fact, wide open, and in it Martin's wife, +with gloom depicted on her face. The floors were covered with articles +dragged out of the drawers in the rooms on the upper floor. In the +garrets scores of books in the most appalling disorder were scattered +from out of parcels and boxes. Unbound volumes had been shaken, so that +single sheets and maps were found in various places or not found at +all. + +I went into the veranda. In the green of the astonished garden, now +paling in the dusk, men were sleeping here and there. There was a +specially large swarm in the part of the garden where ripe raspberries +were growing. Nearer the house, under a shady d'Amarlis pear tree, four +soldiers were lying and playing at cards. They all had attached to +their caps masks to protect them from poison-gas with two thick glasses +for the eyes, and with this second great pair of eyes on them their +heads looked like those of certain worms. In the packs of cards I +recognized without trouble some that used to lie by our fire-place. I +went up to the soldiers and pointed out that they had plundered my +house, and that I missed several things, and was anxious to find them, +especially women's dresses not of use to any one there, and that I +wanted to be assured that no one would come into the house in +future--at least till I had packed afresh the damaged books and +collected what remained. + +I could speak freely, for none of them so much as thought of +interrupting me. Then I was silent, whereupon the soldier lying nearest +raised his head--the movement put me in mind of a hydrostatic +balance--gave me a long look and said: 'What have we to do with your +books? We don't even understand your language!' Then, looking at me +amiably with his double pair of eyes, he took a bite of a half-ripe +pear as green as a cucumber. + +'Nothing to be got here: you must go to an officer,' Martin advised, as +he stood a little to the side of me. + +The officers had their quarters about a quarter of a mile away, in a +small house near the forest path. The mist passed off, and in the +darkness in the middle of the wood a number of fires shone. One could +hear a confused noise, unknown soldiers' songs, and mournful music. We +soon reached our destination. We were asked to go into the nearly empty +room, where there was a murmur of voices of soldiers; they were all +standing. At a long table, by the light of a small candle without a +candlestick, two men were writing something, and one was dipping in a +plate proofs of photographs. Some one asked if I felt any fear, and +when I hastened to reassure him entirely, he gave me a chair. Martin +stood, doubled up, at the door. + +A moment later a young officer, informed by a soldier of my arrival, +came down from above, clapped his spurs together in a salute and +inquired what I wanted. When he heard my business his brow darkened and +he became severe. 'Till now we have had no instance of such an +occurrence,' he informed me with much dignity, and his voice sounded +sincere. 'Where is the place?' he asked. 'At the end of the wood?' + +'Quite right,' I answered. + +'Ah, then, it is not our soldiers,' he said with relief; 'there is a +detachment of machine gunners there, and they have no officers at all.' + +He expressed a wish, in spite of the lateness of the hour, to examine +the damage personally with two other officers. They assured me that the +things were bound to be found, and punishment would fall on the guilty +under the severe military law. + +We all walked back through the camp by a forest track which I had known +from childhood as well as the paths of my own garden. The mist had +thickened, the fires seemed veiled as with cobwebs. Everywhere around +horses were eating hay and scraping up the ground solid with pine-tree +roots. Songs ended in silence and began again farther off. + +On the way I explained directly to the officers that my special object +was not to get back the things or to punish the thieves, and certainly +not according to 'the severe military law'. How was I to trace the +thieves? My watchman would certainly not recognize them, because he was +not familiar with shoulder straps, and would say that in that respect +all soldiers were alike. I was only afraid of further damage in the +house, its locks being rotten, and what I desired was that in case the +army stayed there, a guard should be appointed. + +So we reached the house. Martin conducted the gentlemen through the +rooms, and by the light of a candle showed them the condition of +things. The officers, with obvious annoyance, discovered a 'veritable +pogrom'. They could not be expected to understand what the loss +incurred by the scattering of so many books meant to me; one of them +smelt of English 'Sweet Pea' perfume, like a bouquet of flowers. Yet +they clinked their spurs together, and as they went out they again +apologized for the injury done and appointed a sentry, who went on +guard at midnight. + + + + + +II + + +Day came fall of clouds that hung right over the tops of the trees, +full of wind and cold, but dry--quite a genuine summer day. + +Round the house from early morning soldiers were moving about, +mitigating the weariness of the man on guard. Now one, now another +wanted to see how the pillaged house looked. Quite simply they walked +through the open door into the interior, finishing what remained of the +unripe apples they had picked in the garden. One stood still on the +threshold, put his hand to his cap, bowed, and duly asked, 'if the lady +would allow?' + +Then he entered, stooped, and picked up two books from the ground. 'May +I be permitted to take the liberty of asking to whom these books +belong? What is the reason for their exceedingly great number? Do they +serve a special department of study?' He made his inquiries in such a +stilted way that I was forced laboriously to keep my answers on the +same level. He owned he would be happy if I would agree that he should +help in the work, for he had not had a book in his hand for a year. He +therefore stayed in the garret and with the anxiety of a genuine +bibliomaniac collected volumes of similar size and shape, put together +scattered maps and tied up bundles. Martin looked distrustfully at this +assistant, and annoyance was depicted on the face of Martin's wife. In +front of the house one of the soldiers had brought cigarettes to the +man on guard. Another turned to him ironically: 'Well, under the +circumstances I suppose you are going to light one?' + +'You are not allowed to light a cigarette on guard?' + +'It wouldn't be allowed; but perhaps, as there is no officer to see +me....' + +The speaker was a young, fair-haired, amiable boy, assistant to an +engine driver in some small town in Siberia. He was quite ready to +relate his history. He could not wonder sufficiently how it came to +pass that he was still alive. He had run away from the trenches at S., +certain that he would die if he were not taken prisoner. The fire of +the enemy was concentrated on their entrenchment, so as to cut off all +chance of escape. Every one round him fell, and he was constantly +feeling himself to ascertain that he was not wounded. 'You see, lady, +when they turn their whole fire on one spot, you must get away; it +rains so thick that no one can stand it.' + +'Well, and didn't you fire just as thick?' + +He looked with amiable wonder. 'When we had nothing to fire?' he said +good-humouredly. + +Well, somehow it all ended happily. But, then, the others, his +companions...ah, how dashing they had been, what fellows! An admirable, +glorious army, the S. Regiment! Almost everyone was killed; it was sad +to see them. Now they had to fill up the gaps with raw recruits; but it +was no longer the old army; there will never be such fighting again.... +It will be hard to discipline them. They had fought continuously for a +year. A whole year in the war! They had been close to Drialdow, in +Lwow, even close to Cracow itself. 'Do you know Cracow, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'Well, then, just there, just five miles from Cracow. The bitter cold +of a windy day penetrated to our bones. To think that the town was only +five miles off!' + +I went away to return to the packing of my books. At the door I noticed +a woman standing, a neighbour; she was frightened and timid. + +'I suppose they have robbed you, lady?' + +'They have.' + +'And now they are at it in my place,' she said softly. 'Their cattle +have eaten up my whole meadow, and they are tearing up everything in my +kitchen-garden. I was looking this morning; not a cucumber left. +To-morrow they will begin mowing the oats; the officer gave me an +advance in money, and the rest he paid with note of hand. Is it true +that they are going to burn everything?' + +'I don't know.' + +The new watchman came up, young, black-eyed, a gloomy Siberian +villager. When he laughed, his teeth shone like claws. + +'We have stolen nothing, but we are ordered to do penance,' he said +defiantly to Martin. 'Very well, we'll do it. It was worse in the +trenches--a great deal worse! Often we were so close to the enemy that +we could see them perfectly. We used to take off our caps, raise them +in the air; they fired. If they hit, then we waved a white +handkerchief: that meant they had made a hit. Later on they would show +their caps and we fired.' + +'Are you from a distance?' Martin asked. + +'From Siberia,' he answered, and turned his head. 'We were four +brothers all serving in the army; two still write to me, the fourth is +gone. Our father is an old man, and neither ploughs nor sows. He sold a +beautiful colt for 150 roubles, for what is the use of a horse when +there is no more farming? God! what a country this is,' he continued +with pity. 'With us in Siberia a farmer with no more than ten cows is +called poor. We are rich! We have land where wheat grows like anything. +Manure we cart away and burn; we've no use for it. Ah! Siberia!' + +The woman, my neighbour, sat in silence. It was strange to her to hear +of this country as the Promised Land. When she had to go she said, +thoughtfully and nervously: 'Of course if I hadn't sold him the oats +they would have taken them. Even those two roubles on account were +better than that.' + +I went upstairs again, and by evening the work of packing the books and +things was completed. + +The soldier who loved books made elaborate remarks on them also to his +simple comrades. He spoke about the psychical aspect of fighting, the +physiology of heroic deeds, the resignation of those destined for +death, &c. He was a thoughtful man and unquestionably sensitive; but +all that he said had the stamp of oriental thought, systematically +arranged in advance and quite perfectly expressed at the moment, free +from the immediate naivete of elementary knowledge. + +'Do you belong,' I said, 'to this detachment of machine gunners?' + +'Unquestionably; I am, as you see, lady, a simple soldier.' + +'I should like to see a machine gun at close quarters. Can I?' + +I immediately perceived that I had asked something out of order. He was +confused and turned pale. + +'I have never seen a machine gun,' I continued, 'up to now; but, of +course, if there are any difficulties...' + +'It is not that,' he answered, with hesitation. 'I must tell you +honestly, lady, we haven't a single cartridge left.' + +He checked himself and was silent; at that moment he did not show the +repose of a psychologist. + +'Do you understand, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'And also we have absolutely no officers. There is nothing but what you +see there in the forest; the rest are pitiful remnants--some 200 +soldiers left out of two regiments.' + +Early next day Martin joyously informed me that in the night the +soldiers had gone away. They had burnt nothing, but it was likely that +another detachment would come in by the evening. + +'And the soldier who helped you to pack was here very early. I told him +the lady was asleep, so he only left this card.' + +_It was a visiting card with a bent edge; at the bottom was written, +in pencil and in Roman characters,_ + +'p.p.c.' + +'Yes, my friend,' I thought to myself, 'that is just the souvenir I +should have expected you to leave me after plundering me right and +left... a "P.P.C." card! And my deliverance from you means destruction +to somebody else's woods, house, and garden.' + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Polish Tales, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + +***** This file should be named 8378.txt or 8378.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/3/7/8378/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Selected Polish Tales + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June, 2005 [EBook #8378] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 4, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +SELECTED + +POLISH TALES + +TRANSLATED BY + +ELSE C. M. BENECKE + +AND + +MARIE BUSCH + + + +_This selection of Tales by Polish authors was first published in +'The World's Classics' in 1921 and reprinted in 1928, 1942, and +1944._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +PREFACE + + +THE OUTPOST. By BOLESLAW PRUS + +A PINCH or SALT. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +FOREBODINGS. By STEFAN ZERKOMSKI + +A POLISH SCENE. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +DEATH. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +THE SENTENCE. By J. KADEN-BANDROWSKI + +'P.P.C.' By MME KYCIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +PREFACE + + +My friend the late Miss Else C. M. Benecke left a number of Polish +stories in rough translation, and I am carrying out her wishes in +editing them and handing them over to English readers. In spite of +failing health during the last years of her life, she worked hard at +translations from this beautiful but difficult language, and the two +volumes, _Tales by Polish Authors_ and _More Tales by Polish +Authors_, published by Mr. Basil Blackwell at Oxford, were among the +first attempts to make modern Polish fiction known in this country. In +both these volumes I collaborated with her. + +England is fortunate in counting Joseph Conrad among her own novelists; +although a Pole by birth he is one of the greatest masters of English +style. The Polish authors who have written in their own language have +perhaps been most successful in the short story. Often it is so slight +that it can hardly be called a story, but each of these sketches +conveys a distinct atmosphere of the country and the people, and shows +the individuality of each writer. The unhappy state of Poland for more +than 150 years has placed political and social problems in the +foreground of Polish literature. Writers are therefore judged and +appraised by their fellow-countrymen as much by their patriotism as by +their literary and artistic merits. + +Of the authors whose work is presented in this volume _Prus_ +(Aleksander Glowacki), the veteran of modern Polish novelists, is the +one most loved by his own countrymen. His books are written partly with +a moral object, as each deals with a social evil. But while he exposes +the evil, his warm heart and strong sense of justice--combined with a +sense of humour--make him fair and even generous to all. + +The poignant appeal of _Szymanski's_ stories lies in the fact that +they are based on personal experiences. He was banished to Yakutsk in +Siberia for six years when he was quite a young man and had barely +finished his studies at the University of Warsaw, at a time when every +profession of radicalism, however moderate, was punished severely by +the Russian authorities. He died, a middle-aged man, during the War, +after many years of literary and journalistic activity in the interest +of his country. Neither he nor Prus lived to see Poland free and +republican, an ideal for which they had striven. + +_Zeromski_ is a writer of intense feeling. If Prus's kindly and +simple tales are the most beloved, Zeromski's more subtle psychological +treatment of his subjects is the most admired, and he is said to mark +an epoch in Polish fiction. In the two short sketches contained in this +volume, as well as in most of his short stories and longer novels, the +dominant note is human suffering. + +_Reymont_, who is a more impersonal writer and more detached from +his subject, is perhaps the most artistic among the authors of short +stories. His volume entitled _Peasants_, from which the two +sketches in this collection are taken, gives very powerful and +realistic pictures of life in the villages. + +_Kaden-Bandrowski_ is a very favourite author in his own country, +as many of his short stories deal with Polish life during the Great +War. In the early part of the War he joined the Polish Legions which +formed the nucleus of Pilsudski's army, and shared their varying +fortunes. During the greater part of this time he edited a radical +newspaper for his soldiers, in whom he took a great interest. The +story, _The Sentence_, was translated by me from a French +translation kindly made by the author. + +Mme _Rygier-Nalkowska_, who, with Kaden-Bandrowski, belongs to the +youngest group of Polish writers, is a strong feminist of courageous +views, and a keen satirist of certain national and social conventions. +The present volume only contains a short sketch--a personal experience +of hers during the early part of the War. It would be considered a very +daring thing for a Polish lady to venture voluntarily into the zone of +the Russian army, but her little sketch shows the individual Russian to +be as human as any other soldier. This sketch and the first of +Reymont's have been translated by Mr. Joseph Solomon, whose knowledge +of Slavonic languages makes him a most valuable co-operator. + +My share in the work has been to put Miss Benecke's literal translation +into a form suitable for publication, and to get into touch with the +authors or their representatives, to whom I would now tender my +grateful thanks for their courteous permission to issue this volume, +viz. to Mme Glowacka, widow of 'Prus', to the sons of the late Mr. +Szymanski, to MM. Zeromski, Reymont, Kaden-Bandrowski, and to Mme +Rygier-Nalkowska, all of Warsaw. + +MARIE BUSCH. + + + + + + +THE OUTPOST + +BY + +BOLESLAW PRUS + +(ALEKSANDER GLOWACKI) + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The river Bialka springs from under a hill no bigger than a cottage; +the water murmurs in its little hollow like a swarm of bees getting +ready for their flight. + +For the distance of fifteen miles the Bialka flows on level ground. +Woods, villages, trees in the fields, crucifixes by the roadside show +up clearly and become smaller and smaller as they recede into the +distance. It is a bit of country like a round table on which human +beings live like a butterfly covered by a blue flower. What man finds +and what another leaves him he may eat, but he must not go too far or +fly too high. + +Fifteen to twenty miles farther to the south the country begins to +change. The shallow banks of the Bialka rise and retreat from each +other, the flat fields become undulating, the path leads ever more +frequently and steeply up and down hill. + +The plain has disappeared and given place to a ravine; you are +surrounded by hills of the height of a many-storied house; all are +covered with bushes; sometimes the ascent is steep, sometimes gradual. +The first ravine leads into a second, wilder and narrower, thence into +a succession of nine or ten. Cold and dampness cling to you when you +walk through them; you climb one of the hills and find yourself +surrounded by a network of forking and winding ravines. + +A short distance from the river-banks the landscape is again quite +different. The hills grow smaller and stand separate like great +ant-hills. You have emerged from the country of ravines into the broad +valley of the Bialka, and the bright sun shines full into your eyes. + +If the earth is a table on which Providence has spread a banquet for +creation, then the valley of the Bialka is a gigantic, long-shaped dish +with upturned rim. In the winter this dish is white, but at other +seasons it is like majolica, with forms severe and irregular, but +beautiful. The Divine Potter has placed a field at the bottom of the +dish and cut it through from north to south with the ribbon of the +Bialka sparkling with waves of sapphire blue in the morning, crimson in +the evening, golden at midday, and silver in moonlit nights. + +When He had formed the bottom, the Great Potter shaped the rim, taking +care that each side should possess an individual physiognomy. + +The west bank is wild; the field touches the steep gravel hills, where +a few scattered hawthorn bushes and dwarf birches grow. Patches of +earth show here and there, as though the turf had been peeled. Even the +hardiest plants eschew these patches, where instead of vegetation the +surface presents clay and strata of sand, or else rock showing its +teeth to the green field. + +The east bank has a totally different character; it forms an +amphitheatre with three tiers. The first tier above the field is of +mould and contains a row of cottages surrounded by trees: this is the +village. On the second tier, where the ground is clay, stands the +manor-house, almost on top of the village, with which an avenue of old +lime-trees connects it. To the right and left extend the manor-fields, +large and rectangular, sown with wheat, rye, and peas, or else lying +fallow. The sandy soil of the third tier is sown with rye or oats and +fringed by the pine-forest, its contours showing black against the sky. + +The northern ridge contains little hills standing singly. One of them +is the highest in the neighbourhood and is crowned by a solitary pine. +This hill, together with two others, is the property of the +gospodarz[1] The gospodarstwo is like a hermitage; it is a long way +from the village and still farther from the manor-house. + +[Footnote 1: _Gospodarz_: the owner of a small holding, as +distinct from the villager, who owns no land and is simply an +agricultural labourer. The word, which means host, master of the house, +will be used throughout the book. _Gospodyni_: hostess, mistress +of the holding. _Gospodarstwo_: the property.] + + +Josef Slimak. + + +Slimak's cottage is by the roadside, the front door opening on to the +road, the back door into the yard; the cowhouse and pigsty are under +one roof, the barn, stable, and cart-shed forming the other three sides +of the square courtyard. + +The peasants chaff Slimak for living in exile like a Sibiriak.[1] It is +true, they say, that he lives nearer to the church, but on the other +hand he has no one to open his mouth to. + +[Footnote 1: Sibiriak: a person of European birth or extraction living +in Siberia.] + +However, his solitude is not complete. On a warm autumn day, when the +white-coated gospodarz is ploughing on the hill with a pair of horses, +you can see his wife and a girl, both in red petticoats, digging up +potatoes. + +Between the hills the thirteen-year-old Jendrek[1] minds the cows and +performs strange antics meanwhile to amuse himself. If you look more +closely you will also find the eight-year-old Stasiek[2] with hair as +white as flax, who roams through the ravines or sits under the lonely +pine on the hill and looks thoughtfully into the valley. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling, _Jedrek_ (pronounced as given, +Jendrek, with the French sound of _en_): Andrew.] + +[Footnote 2: _Stasiek_: diminutive of Stanislas.] + +That gospodarstwo--a drop in the sea of human interest--was a small +world in itself which had gone through various phases and had a history +of its own. + +For instance, there was the time when Josef Slimak had scarcely seven +acres of land and only his wife in the cottage. Then there came two +surprises, his wife bore him a son--Jendrek,--and as the result of the +servituty[1] his holding was increased by three acres. + +[Footnote 1: _Servituty_ are pieces of land which, on the +abolition of serfdom, the landowners had to cede to the peasants +formerly their serfs. The settlement was left to the discretion of the +owners, and much bargaining and discontent on both sides resulted +therefrom; the peasants had to pay percentage either in labour or in +produce to the landowner.] + +Both these circumstances created a great change in the gospodarz's +life; he bought another cow and pig and occasionally hired a labourer. + +Some years later his second son, Stasiek, was born. Then Slimakowa[1] +hired a woman by way of an experiment for half a year to help her with +the work. + +[Footnote 1: Slimakowa: Polish form for Mrs. Slimak.] + +Sobieska stayed for nine months, then one night she escaped to the +village, her longing for the public-house having become too strong. Her +place was taken by 'Silly Zoska'[1] for another six months. Slimakowa +was always hoping that the work would grow less, and she would be able +to dispense with a servant. However, 'Silly Zoska' stayed for six +years, and when she went into service at the manor the work at the +cottage had not grown less. So the gospodyni engaged a fifteen-year-old +orphan, Magda, who preferred to go into service, although she had a +cow, a bit of land, and half a cottage of her own. She said that her +uncle beat her too much, and that her other relations only offered her +the cold comfort that the more he applied the stick the better it would +be for her. + +[Footnote: Zoska: diminutive of Sophia.] + +Up till then Slimak had chiefly done his own farm work and rarely hired +a labourer. This still left him time to go to work at the manor with +his horses, or to carry goods from the town for the Jews. + +When, however, he was summoned more and more often to the manor, he +found that the day-labourer was not sufficient, and began to look out +for a permanent farm-hand. + +One autumn day, after his wife had been rating him severely for not yet +having found a farmhand, it chanced that Maciek Owczarz,[1] whose foot +had been crushed under a cart, came out of the hospital. The lame man's +road led him past Slimak's cottage; tired and miserable he sat down on +a stone by the gate and looked longingly into the entrance. The +gospodyni was boiling potatoes for the pigs, and the smell was so good, +as the little puffs of steam spread along the highroad, that it went +into the very pit of Maciek's stomach. He sat there in fascination, +unable to move. + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: Ovcharge. _Maciek_ +(pron. Machik): Matthew.] + +'Is that you, Owczarz?' Slimakowa asked, hardly recognizing the poor +wretch in his rags. + +'Indeed, it is I,' the man answered miserably. + +'They said in the village that you had been killed.' + +'I have been worse off than that; I have been in the hospital. I wish I +had been left under the cart, I shouldn't be so hungry now.' + +The gospodyni became thoughtful. + +'If only one could be sure that you wouldn't die, you could stay here +as our farm-hand.' + +The poor fellow jumped up from his seat and walked to the door, +dragging his foot. + +'Why should I die?' he cried, 'I am quite well, and when I have a bit +to eat I can do the work of two. Give me barszcz[1] and I will chop up +a cartload of wood for you. Try me for a week, and I will plough all +those fields. I will serve you for old clothes and patched boots, so +long as I have a shelter for the winter.' + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: barsht. The national dish of +the peasants; it is made with beetroot and bread, tastes slightly sour, +and is said to be delicious.] + +Here Maciek paused, astonished at himself for having said so much, for +he was silent by nature. + +Slimakowa looked him up and down, gave him a bowl of barszcz and +another of potatoes, and told him to wash in the river. When her +husband came home in the evening Maciek was introduced to him as the +farm-hand who had already chopped wood and fed the cattle. + +Slimak listened in silence. As he was tenderhearted he said, after a +pause: + +'Well, stay with us, good man. It will be better for us and better for +you. And if ever--God grant that may not happen--there should be no +bread in the cottage at all, then you will be no worse off than you are +to-day. Rest, and you will set about your work all right.' + +Thus it came about that this new inmate was received into the cottage. +He was quiet as a mouse, faithful as a dog, and industrious as a pair +of horses, in spite of his lameness. + +After that, with the exception of the yellow dog Burek, no additions +were made to Slimak's household, neither children nor servants nor +property. Life at the gospodarstwo went with perfect regularity. All +the labour, anxiety, and hopes of these human beings centred in the one +aim: daily bread. For this the girl carried in the firewood, or, +singing and jumping, ran to the pit for potatoes. For this the +gospodyni milked the cows at daybreak, baked bread, and moved her +saucepans on and off the fire. For this Maciek, perspiring, dragged his +lame leg after the plough and harrow, and Slimak, murmuring his +morning-prayers, went at dawn to the manor-barn or drove into the town +to deliver the corn which he had sold to the Jews. + +For the same reason they worried when there was not enough snow on the +rye in winter, or when they could not get enough fodder for the cattle; +or prayed for rain in May and for fine weather at the end of June. On +this account they would calculate after the harvest how much corn they +would get out of a korzec,[1] and what prices it would fetch. Like bees +round a hive their thoughts swarmed round the question of daily bread. +They never moved far from this subject, and to leave it aside +altogether was impossible. They even said with pride that, as gentlemen +were in the world to enjoy themselves and to order people about, so +peasants existed for the purpose of feeding themselves and others. + +[Footnote 1: A _korzec_ is twelve hundred sheaves.] + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was April. After their dinner Slimak's household dispersed to their +different occupations. The gospodyni, tying a red handkerchief round +her head and a white linen one round her neck, ran down to the river. +Stasiek followed her, looking at the clouds and observing to himself +that they were different every day. Magda busied herself washing up the +dinner things, singing 'Oh, da, da', louder and louder in proportion as +the mistress went farther away. Jendrek began pushing Magda about, +pulling the dog's tail and whistling penetratingly; finally he ran out +with a spade into the orchard. Slimak sat by the stove. He was a man of +medium height with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. He had a calm +face, short moustache, and thick straight hair falling abundantly over +his forehead and on to his neck. A red-glass stud set in brass shone in +his sacking shirt. He rested the elbow of his left arm on his right +fist and smoked a pipe, but when his eyes closed and his head fell too +far forward, he righted himself and rested his right elbow on his left +fist. He puffed out the grey smoke and dozed alternately, spitting now +and then into the middle of the room or shifting his hands. When the +pipestem began to twitter like a young sparrow, he knocked the bowl a +few times against the bench, emptied the ashes, and poked his finger +down. Yawning, he got up and laid the pipe on the shelf. + +He glanced under his brows at Magda and shrugged his shoulders. The +liveliness of the girl who skipped about while she was washing her +dishes, roused a contemptuous compassion in him. He knew well what it +felt like to have no desire for skipping about, and how great the +weight of a man's head, hands, and feet can be when he has been hard at +work. + +He put on his thick hobnailed boots and a stiff sukmana,[1] fastened a +hard strap round his waist, and put on his high sheepskin cap. The +heaviness in his limbs increased, and it came into his mind that it +would be more suitable to be buried in a bundle of straw after a huge +bowl of peeled barley-soup and another of cheese dumplings, than to go +to work. But he put this thought aside, and went out slowly into the +yard. In his snuff-coloured sukmana and black cap he looked like the +stem of a pine, burnt at the top. + +[Footnote 1: _Sukmana_, a long linen coat, often elaborately +embroidered.] + +The barn door was open, and by sheer perversity some bundles of straw +were peeping out, luring Slimak to a doze. But he turned away his head +and looked at one of the hills where he had sown oats that morning. He +fancied the yellow grain in the furrows was looking frightened, as if +trying in vain to hide from the sparrows that were picking it up. + +'You will eat me up altogether,' Slimak muttered. With heavy steps he +approached the shed, took out the two harrows, and led the chestnuts +out of the stable; one was yawning and the other moved his lips, +looking at Slimak and blinking his eyes, as if he thought: 'Would you +not prefer to doze and not to drag us up the hill? Didn't we do enough +work for you yesterday?' Slimak nodded, as if in answer, and drove off. + +Seen from below, the thick-set man and the horses with heads hanging +down, seemed to harrow the blue sky, moving a few hundred paces +backward and forward. As often as they reached the edge of the sown +field, a flight of sparrows rose up, twittering angrily, and flew over +them like a cloud, then settled at the other end, shrieking continually +in astonishment that earth should be poured on to such lovely grain. + +'Silly fool! Silly fool! What a silly fool!' they cried. + +'Bah!' murmured Slimak, cracking his whip at them, 'if I listened to +you idlers, you and I would both starve under the fence. The beggars +are playing the deuce here!' + +Certainly Slimak got little encouragement in his labour. Not only that +the sparrows noisily criticized his work, and the chestnuts scornfully +whisked their tails under his nose, but the harrows also objected, and +resisted at every little stone or clod of earth. The tired horses +continually stumbled, and when Slimak cried 'Woa, my lads!' and they +went on, the harrows again resisted and pulled them back. When the +worried harrows moved on for a bit, stones got into the horses' feet or +under his own shoes, or choked up, and even broke the teeth of the +harrows. Even the ungrateful earth offered resistance. + +'You are worse than a pig!' the man said angrily. 'If I took to +scratching a pig's back with a horsecomb, it would lie down quietly and +grunt with gratitude. But you are always bristling, as if I did you an +injury!' + +The sun took up the affronted earth's cause, and threw a great sheaf of +light across the ashen-coloured field, where dark and yellow patches +were visible. + +'Look at that black patch,' said the sun, 'the hill was all black like +that when your father sowed wheat on it. And now look at the yellow +patch where the stony ground comes out from under the mould and will +soon possess all your land.' + +'But that is not my fault,' said Slimak. + +'Not your fault?' whispered the earth; 'you yourself eat three times a +day, but how often do you feed me? It is much if it is once in eight +years. And then you think you give me a great deal, but a dog would +starve on such fare. You know that you always grudge me the manure, +shame on you!' + +The penitent peasant hung his head. + +'And you sleep twice in twenty-four hours unless your wife drives you +to work, but how much rest do you give me? Once in ten years, and then +your cattle trample upon me. So I am to be content with being harrowed? +Just try giving no hay or litter to your cows, only scratch them and +see whether they will give you milk. They will get ill, the slaughterer +will have to be sent for, and even the Jew will give you nothing for +their hides.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed the peasant, acknowledging that the earth +was right. But no one pitied or comforted him--on the contrary! The +west wind rose, and twining itself among the dry stalks on the +field-paths, whistled: + +'Look sharp, you'll catch it! I will bring such a deluge of rain that +the remainder of the mould will be spurted on to the highroad or into +the manor-fields. And though you should harrow with your own teeth, you +shall get less and less comfort every year! I will make everything +sterile!' + +The wind was not threatening in vain. In Slimak's father's time ten +korzy of sheaves an acre had been harvested here. Now he had to be +thankful for seven, and what was going to happen in the future? + +'That's a peasant's lot,' murmured Slimak, 'work, work, work, and from +one difficulty you get into another. If only it could be otherwise, if +only I could manage to have another cow and perhaps get that little +meadow....' + +His whip was pointed at the green field by the Bialka. + +But the sparrows only twittered 'You fool!' and the earth groaned: 'You +are starving me!' + +He stopped the horses and looked around him to divert his thoughts. + +Jendrek was digging between the cottage and the highroad, throwing +stones at the birds now and then or singing out of tune: + + 'God grant you, God grant you + That I may not find you. + For else, my fair maid, + You should open your gate.' + +And Magda answered from within: + + 'Although I am poor + And my mother was poor, + I'll not at the gate + Kiss you early or late.' + +Slimak turned towards the river where his wife could be plainly seen in +her white chemise and red skirt, bending over the water and beating the +linen with a stick until the valley rang. Stasiek had already strayed +farther towards the ravines. Sometimes he knelt down on the bank and +gazed into the river, supported on his elbows. Slimak smiled. + +'Peering again! What does he see down there?' he whispered. + +Stasiek was his favourite, and struck him as an unusual child, who +could see things that others did not see. + +While Slimak cracked his whip and the horses went on, his thoughts were +travelling in the direction of the desired field. + +'How much land have I got?' he meditated, 'ten acres; if I had only +sown six or seven every year and let the rest lie fallow, how could I +have fed my hungry family? And the man, he eats as much as I do, though +he is lame; and he has fifteen roubles wages besides. Magda eats less, +but then she is lazy enough to make a dog howl. I'm lucky when they +want me for work at the manor, or if a Jewess hires my horses to go for +a drive, or my wife sells butter and eggs. And what is there saved when +all is said and done? Perhaps fifty roubles in the whole year. When we +were first married, a hundred did not astonish me. Manure the ground +indeed! Let the squire take it into his head not to employ me, or not +to sell me fodder, what then? I should have to drive the cattle to +market and die of hunger. + +'I am not as well off as Gryb or Lukasiak or Sarnecki. They live like +gentlemen. One drives to church with his wife, the other wears a cap +like a burgher, and the third would like to turn out the Wojt[1] and +wear the chain himself. But I have to say to myself, 'Be poor on ten +acres and go and bow and scrape to the bailiff at the manor that he may +remember you. Well, let it be as it is! Better be master on a square +yard of your own than a beggar on another's large estate.' A cloud of +dust was rising on the high-road beyond the river. Some one was coming +towards the bridge from the manor-house, riding in a peculiar fashion. +The wind blew from behind, but the dust was so thick that sometimes it +travelled backwards. Occasionally horse and rider showed above it, but +the next moment it whirled round and round them again, as if the road +was raising a storm. Slimak shaded his eyes with his hand. + +[Footnote 1: The designations Wojt and Soltys are derived from the +German Vogt and Sdiultheiss. Their functions in the townships or +villages are of a different kind; in small villages there may be only +one of these functionaries, the Soltys. He is the representative of the +Government, collects rates and taxes and requisitions horses for the +army. The Wojt is head of the village, and magistrate. All legal +matters would be referred to him.] + +'What an odd way of riding? who can it be? not the squire, nor his +coachman. He can't be a Catholic, not even a Jew; for although a Jew +would bob up and down on the horse as he does, he would never make a +horse go in that reckless way. It must be some crazy stranger.' + +The rider had now come near enough for Slimak to see what he was like. +He was slim and dressed in gentleman's clothes, consisting of a light +suit and velvet jockey cap. He had eyeglasses on his nose and a cigar +in his mouth, and he was carrying his riding whip under his arm, +holding the reins in both hands between the horse's neck and his own +beard, while he was shaking violently up and down; he hugged the saddle +so tightly with his bow legs that his trousers were rucked up, showing +his calves. + +Anyone in the very least acquainted with equestrian matters could guess +that this was the first time the rider had sat upon a horse, or that +the horse had carried such a rider. At moments they seemed to be +ambling along harmoniously, until the bobbing cavalier would lose his +balance and tug at the reins; then the horse, which had a soft mouth, +would turn sideways or stand still; the rider would then smack his +lips, and if this had no effect he would fumble for the whip. The +horse, guessing what was required, would start again, shaking him up +and down until he looked like a rag doll badly sewn together. + +All this did not upset his temper, for indeed, this was the first time +the rider had realized the dearest wish of a lifetime, and he was +enjoying himself to the full. + +Sometimes the quiet but desperate horse would break into a gallop. Then +the rider, keeping his balance by a miracle, would drop his +bridle-fantasias and imagine himself a cavalry captain riding to the +attack at the head of his squadron, until, unaccustomed to his rank of +officer, he would perform some unexpected movement which made the horse +suddenly stand still again, and would cause the gallant captain to hit +his nose or his cigar against the neck of his steed. + +He was, moreover, a democratic gentleman. When the horse took a fancy +to trot towards the village instead of towards the bridge, a crowd of +dogs and children ran after him with every sign of pleasure. Instead of +annoyance a benevolent enjoyment would then take possession of him, for +next to riding exercise he passionately loved the people, because they +could manage horses. After a while, however, his role of cavalry +captain would please him more, and after further performances with the +reins, he succeeded in turning back towards the bridge. He evidently +intended to ride through the length and breadth of the valley. + +Slimak was still watching him. + +'Eh, that must be the squire's brother-in-law, who was expected from +Warsaw,' he said to himself, much amused; 'our squire chose a gracious +little wife, and was not even very long about it; but he might have +searched the length of the world for a brother-in-law like that! A bear +would be a commoner sight in these parts than a man sitting a horse as +he does! He looks as stupid as a cowherd--still, he is the squire's +brother-in-law.' + +While Slirnak was thus taking the measure of this friend of the people, +the latter had reached the bridge; the noise of Slimakowa's stick had +attracted his attention. He turned the horse towards the bridge-rail +and craned his neck over the water; indeed, his slim figure and peaked +jockey cap made him look uncommonly like a crane. + +'What does he want now?' thought Slimak. The horseman was evidently +asking Slimakowa a question, for she got up and raised her head. Slimak +noticed for the first time that she was in the habit of tucking up her +skirts very high, showing her bare knees. + +'What the deuce does he want?' he repeated, objecting to the short +skirt. + +The cavalier rode off the bridge with no little difficulty and reined +up beside the woman. Slimak was now watching breathlessly. + +Suddenly the young man stretched out his hand towards Slimakowa's neck, +but she raised her stick so threateningly that the scared horse started +away at a gallop, and the rider was left clinging to his neck. + +'Jagna! what are you doing?' shouted Slimak; 'that's the squire's +brother-in-law, you fool!' + +But the shout did not reach her, and the young man did not seem at all +offended. He kissed his hand to Slimakowa and dug his heels into the +horse, which threw up its head and started in the direction of the +cottage at a sharp trot. But this time success did not attend the +rider, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and clutching his charger +by the mane, he shouted: 'Stop, you devil!' + +Jendrek heard the cry, clambered on to the gate, and seeing the strange +performance, burst out laughing. The rider's jockey cap fell off. 'Pick +up the cap, my boy,' the horseman called out in passing. + +'Pick it up yourself,' laughed Jendrek, clapping his hands to excite +the horse still more. + +The father listened to the boy's answer speechless with astonishment, +but he soon recovered himself. + +'Jendrek, you young dog, give the gentleman his cap when he tells you!' +he cried. + +Jendrek took the jockey cap between two fingers, holding it in front of +him and offering it to the rider when he had succeeded in stopping his +horse. + +'Thank you, thank you very much,' he said, no less amused than Jendrek +himself. + +'Jendrek, take off your cap to the gentleman at once,' called Slimak. + +'Why should I take off my cap to everybody?' asked the lad saucily. + +'Excellent, that's right!...' The young man seemed pleased. 'Wait, you +shall have twenty kopeks for that; a free citizen should never humble +himself before anybody.' + +Slimak, by no means sharing the gentleman's democratic theories, +advanced towards Jendrek with his cap in one hand and the whip in the +other. + +'Citizen!' cried the cavalier, 'I beg you not to beat the boy...do not +crush his independent soul...do not...' he would have liked to have +continued, but the horse, getting bored, started off again in the +direction of the bridge. When he saw Slimakowa coming towards the +cottage, he took off his dusty cap and called out: + +'Madam, do not let him beat the boy!' + +Jendrek had disappeared. + +Slimak stood rooted to the spot, pondering upon this queer fish, who +first was impertinent to his wife, then called her 'Madam', and himself +'Citizen', and praised Jendrek for his cheek. + +He returned angrily to his horses. + +'Woa, lads! what's the world coming to? A peasant's son won't take off +his cap to a gentleman, and the gentleman praises him for it! He is the +squire's brother-in-law--all the same, he must be a little wrong in his +head. Soon there will be no gentlemen left, and then the peasants will +have to die. Maybe when Jendrek grows up he will look after himself; he +won't be a peasant, that's clear. Woa, lads!' + +He imagined Jendrek in button-boots and a jockey cap, and he spat. + +'Bah! so long as I am about, you won't dress like that, young dog! All +the same I shall have to warm his latter end for him, or else he won't +take his cap off to the squire next, and then I can go begging. It's +the wife's fault, she is always spoiling him. There's nothing for it, I +must give him a hiding.' + +Again dust was rising on the road, this time in the direction of the +plain. Slimak saw two forms, one tall, the other oblong; the oblong was +walking behind the tall one and nodding its head. + +'Who's sending a cow to market?' he thought, '... well, the boy must be +thrashed...if only I could have another cow and that bit of field.' + +He drove the horses down the hill towards the Bialka, where he caught +sight of Stasiek, but could see nothing more of his farm or of the +road. He was beginning to feel very tired; his feet seemed a heavy +weight, but the weight of uncertainty was still greater, and he never +got enough sleep. When his work was finished, he often had to drive off +to the town. + +'If I had another cow and that field,' he thought, 'I could sleep +more.' + +He had been meditating on this while harrowing over a fresh bit for +half an hour, when he heard his wife calling from the hill: + +'Josef, Josef!' + +'What's up?' + +'Do you know what has happened?' 'How should I know?' + +'Is it a new tax?' anxiously crossed his mind. + +'Magda's uncle has come, you know, that Grochowski....' + +'If he wants to take the girl back--let him.' + +'He has brought a cow and wants to sell her to Gryb for thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter. She is a lovely cow.' + +'Let him sell her; what's that to do with me?' + +'This much: that you are going to buy her,' said the woman firmly. + +Slimak dropped his hand with the whip, bent his head forward, and +looked at his wife. The proposal seemed monstrous. + +'What's wrong with you?' he asked. + +'Wrong with me?' She raised her voice. 'Can't I afford the cow? Gryb +has bought his wife a new cart, and you grudge me the beasts? There are +two cows in the shed; do you ever trouble about them? You wouldn't have +a shirt to your back if it weren't for them.' + +'Good Lord,' groaned the man, who was getting muddled by his wife's +eloquence,' how am I to feed her? they won't sell me fodder from the +manor.' + +'Rent that field, and you will have fodder.' + +'Fear God, Jagna! what are you saying? How am I to rent that field?' + +'Go to the manor and ask the square; say you will pay up the rent in a +year's time.' + +'As God lives, the woman is mad! our beasts pull a little from that +field now for nothing; I should be worse off, because I should have to +pay both for the cow and for the field. I won't go to the squire.' + +His wife came close up to him and looked into his eyes. 'You won't go?' + +'I won't go.' + +'Very well, then I will take what fodder there is and your horses may +go to the devil; but I won't let that cow go, _I_ will buy her!' + +'Then buy her.' + +'Yes, I will buy her, but you have got to do the bargaining with +Grochowski; I haven't the time, and I won't drink vodka with him.' + +'Drink! bargain with him! you are mad about that cow!' + +The quick-tempered woman shook her fist in his face. + +'Josef, don't upset me when you yourself have nothing at all to +propose. Listen! you are worrying every day that you haven't enough +manure; you are always telling me that you want three beasts, and when +the time comes, you won't buy them. The two cows you have cost you +nothing and bring you in produce, the third would be clear gain. +Listen.... I tell you, listen! Finish your work, then come indoors and +bargain for the cow; if not, I'll have nothing more to do with you.' + +She turned her back and went off. + +The man put his hands to his head. + +'God bless me, what a woman!' he groaned, 'how can I, poor devil, rent +that field? She persists in having the cow, and makes a fuss, and it +doesn't matter what you say, you may as well talk to a wall. Why was I +ever born? everything is against me. Woa, lads!' + +He fancied that the earth and the wind were laughing at him again: + +'You'll pay the thirty-five paper roubles and the silver rouble for the +halter! Week after week, month after month you have been putting by +your money, and to-day you'll spend it all as if you were cracking a +nut. You will swell Grochowski's pockets and your own pouch will be +empty. You will wait in fear and uncertainty at the manor and bow to +the bailiff when it pleases him to give you the receipt for your +rent!... + +'Perhaps the squire won't even let me have the field.' + +'Don't talk nonsense!' twittered the sparrows; 'you know quite well +that he'll let you have it.' + +'Oh yes, he'll let me have it,' he retorted hotly, 'for my good money. +I would rather bear a severe pain than waste money on such a foolish +thing.' + +The sun was low by the time Slimak had finished his last bit of +harrowing near the highroad. At the moment when he stopped he heard the +new cow low. Her voice pleased him and softened his heart a little. + +'Three cows is more than two,' he thought, 'people will respect me +more. But the money... ah well, it's all my own fault!' + +He remembered how many times he had said that he must have another cow +and that field, and had boasted to his wife that people had encouraged +him to carve his own farm implements, because he was so clever at it. + +She had listened patiently for two or three years; now at last she took +things into her own hands and told him to buy the cow and rent the +field at once. Merciful Jesu! what a hard woman! What would she drive +him to next? He would really have to put up sheds and make farm carts! + +Intelligent and even ingenious as Slimak was, he never dared to do +anything fresh unless driven to it. He understood his farm work +thoroughly, he could even mend the thrashing-machine at the +manor-house, and he kept everything in his head, beginning with the +rotation of crops on his land. Yet his mind lacked that fine thread +which joins the project to the accomplishment. Instead of this the +sense of obedience was very strongly developed in him. The squire, the +priest, the Wojt, his wife were all sent from God. He used to say: + +'A peasant is in the world to carry out orders.' + +The sun was sinking behind the hill crest when he drove his horses on +to the highroad, and he was pondering on how he would begin his +bargaining with Grochowski when he heard a guttural voice behind him, +'Heh! heh!' + +Two men were standing on the highroad, one was grey-headed and +clean-shaven, and wore a German peaked cap, the other young and tall, +with a beard and a Polish cap. A two-horse vehicle was drawn up a +little farther back. + +'Is that your field?' the bearded man asked in an unpleasant voice. + +'Stop, Fritz,' the elder interrupted him. + +'What am I to stop for?' the other said angrily. + +'Stop! Is this your land, gospodarz?' the grey-haired man asked very +politely. + +'Of course it's mine, who else should it belong to?' + +Stasiek came running up from the field at that moment and looked at the +strangers with a mixture of distrust and admiration. + +'And is that your field?' the bearded one repeated. + +'Stop, Fritz! Is it your field, gospodarz?' the old man corrected him. + +'It's not mine; it belongs to the manor.' + +'And whose is the hill with the pine?' + +'Stop, Fritz...' + +'Oh well, if you are going to interrupt all the time, father....' + +'Stop... is the hill yours, gospodarz?' + +'It's mine; no one else's.' + +'There you are, Fritz,' the old man said in German; 'that's the very +place for Wilhelm's windmill.' + +'The reason why Wilhelm has not yet put up a windmill is not that there +are no hills, but that he is a lazy fellow.' + +'Don't be disagreeable, Fritz! Then those fields beyond the highroad +and the ravines are not yours, gospodarz?' + +'How should they be, when they belong to the manor?' + +'Oh yes,' the bearded one interrupted impatiently; 'everyone knows that +he sits here in the manor-fields like a hole in a bridge. The devil +take the whole business.' + +'Wait, Fritz! Do the manor-fields surround you on all sides, +gospodarz?' + +'Of course.' + +'Well, that will do,' said the younger man, drawing his father towards +the carriage. + +'God bless you, gospodarz,' said the elder, touching his cap. + +'What a gossip you are, father! Wilhelm will never do anything; you may +find him ever so many hills.' + +'What do they want, daddy?' Stasiek asked suddenly. + +'Ah, yes! true!' + +Slimak was roused: 'Heh, sir!' + +The older man looked round. + +'What are you asking me all those questions for?' + +'Because it pleases us to do so,' the younger man answered, pushing his +father into the carriage. + +'Farewell! we shall meet again!' cried the old man. + +The carriage rolled away. + +'What a crew they are on the highroad to-day, it's like a fair!' said +Slimak. + +'But who are those people, daddy?' + +'Those? They must be Germans from Wolka, twelve miles from here.' + +'Why did they ask so many questions about your land?' + +'They are not the only ones to do that, child. This country pleases +people so much that they come over here from a long way off; they come +as far as the pine hill and then they go away again. That is all I know +about them.' + +He turned the horses homeward and was already forgetting the Germans. +The cow and the field were engaging all his thoughts. Supposing he +bought her! he would be able to manure the ground better, and he might +even pay an old man to come to the cottage for the winter and teach his +boys to read and write. What would the other peasants say to that? It +would greatly improve his position; he would have a better place in +church and at the inn, and with greater prosperity he would be able to +take more rest. + +Oh, for more rest! Slimak had never known hunger or cold, he had a good +home and human affection, and he would have been quite happy if only +his bones had not ached so much, and if he could have lain down or sat +still to his heart's content. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Returning to the courtyard, Slimak let Maciek take the horses. He +looked at the cow, which was tied to the fence. Despite the falling +darkness he could see that she was a beautiful creature; she was white +with black patches, had a small head, short horns and a large udder. He +examined her and admitted that neither of his cows were as fine as this +one. + +He thought of leading her round the yard, but he suddenly felt as if he +could not move another step, his arms seemed to be dropping from their +joints and his legs were sinking. Until sunset a man can go on +harrowing, but after sunset it is no good trying to do anything more. +So he patted the cow instead of leading her about. She seemed to +understand the situation, for she turned her head towards him and +touched his hand with her wet mouth. Slimak was so overcome with +emotion that he very nearly kissed her, as if she were a human being. + +'I must buy her,' he muttered, forgetting even his tiredness. + +The gospodyni stood in the door with a pail of dishwater for the +cattle. + +'Maciek,' she called, 'when the cow has had a drink, lead her to the +cowshed. The Soltys will stay the night; the cow can't be left out of +doors.' + +'Well, what next?' asked Slimak. + +'What has to be, has to be,' she replied. 'He wants the thirty-five +roubles and the silver rouble for the halter--but,' she continued after +a pause, 'truth is truth, she is worth it. I milked her, and though she +had been on the road, she gave more milk than Lysa.' + +'Have you asked him whether he won't come down a bit?' + +The peasant again felt the weariness in all his limbs. Good God! how +many hours of sleep would have to be sacrificed, before he could make +another thirty-five roubles! + +'Not likely! It's something that he will sell her to us at all; he +keeps on saying he promised her to Gryb.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'Come, Josef, be friendly and drink vodka with him, then perhaps the +Lord Jesus will give him reflection. But keep looking at me, and don't +talk too much; you will see, it will turn out all right.' + +Maciek led the cow to the shed; she looked about and whisked her tail +so heartily that Slimak could not take his eyes off her. + +'It's God's will,' he murmured. 'I'll bargain for her.' + +He crossed himself at the door, but his heart was trembling in +anticipation of all the difficulties. + +His guest was sitting by the fire and admonishing Magda in fatherly +fashion to be faithful and obedient to her master and mistress. + +'If they order you into the water--jump into the water; if they order +you into the fire--go into the fire; and if the mistress gives you a +good hiding, kiss her hand and thank her, for I tell you: sacred is the +hand that strikes....' + +As he said this the red light of the fire fell upon him; he had raised +his hand and looked like a preacher. + +Magda fancied that the trembling shadow on the wall was repeating: +'Sacred is the hand that strikes!' + +She wept copiously; she felt she was listening to a beautiful sermon, +but at the same time blue stripes seemed to be swelling on her back at +his words. Yet she listened without fear or regret, only with dim +gratitude, mingled with recollections of her childhood. + +The door opened and Slimak said: + +'The Lord be praised.' + +'In all eternity,' answered Grochowski. When he stood up, his head +nearly touched the ceiling. + +'May God repay you, Soltys, for coming to us,' said Slimak, shaking his +hand. + +'May God repay you for your kindness in receiving me.' + +'And say at once, should you be uncomfortable.' + +'Eh! I'm not half so comfortable at home, and it's not only to me but +also to the cow that you are giving hospitality.' + +'Praise God that you are satisfied.' + +'I am doubly satisfied, because I see how well you are treating Magda. +Magda! fall at your master's feet at once, for your father could not +treat you better. And you, neighbour, don't spare the strap.' + +'She's not a bad girl,' said Slimak. + +Sobbing heartily the girl fell first at her uncle's feet, then at the +gospodarz's, and then escaped into the passage. She hugged herself and +still emitted great sobs; but her eyes were dry. She began calling +softly in a mournful voice: 'Pig! pig! pig!' But the pigs had turned in +for the night. Instead Jendrek and Stasiek with the dog Burek emerged +from the twilight. Jendrek wanted to push her over, but she gave him a +punch in the eye. The boys seized her by the arms, Burek followed, and +shrieking and barking and inextricably entwined so that one could not +tell which was child and which was dog, all four melted into the mists +that were hanging over the meadows. + +Sitting by the stove, the two gospodarze were talking. + +'How is it you are getting rid of the cow?' + +'You see, it's like this. That cow is not mine, it belongs to Magda, +but my wife says she doesn't care about looking after somebody else's +cow, and the shed is too small for ours as it is. I don't pay much +attention to her usually, but it happens that there is a bit of land to +be sold adjoining Magda's. Komara, to whom it belonged, has drunk +himself to death. So I am thinking: I will sell the cow and buy the +girl another acre--land is land.' + +'That's true!' sighed Slimak. + +'And as there will be new servituty, the girl will get even more.' + +'How is that?' Slimak became interested. + +'They will give you twice as much as you possess; I possess twenty-five +acres, so I shall have fifty. How many have you got?' + +'Ten.' + +'Then you will have twenty, and Magda will get another two and a half +with her own.' + +'Is it certain about the servituty?' + +'Who can tell? some say it is, others laugh about it. But I am thinking +I will buy this land while there is the chance, especially as my wife +does not wish it.' + +'Then what is the good of buying the land if you will shortly get it +for nothing?' + +'The truth is, as it's not my money I don't care how I spend it. If I +were you I shouldn't be in a hurry to rent from the manor either; there +is no harm in waiting. The wise man is never in a hurry.' + +'No, the wise man goes slowly,' Slimak deliberated. + +The gospodyni appeared at that moment with Maciek. They went into the +alcove, drew two chairs and the cherrywood table into the middle of it, +covered it with a cloth and placed a petroleum lamp without a chimney +on it. + +'Come, Soltys,' called the gospodyni,' you will have supper more +comfortably in here.' + +Maciek, with a broad smile, retired awkwardly behind the stove as the +two gospodarze went into the alcove. + +'What a beautiful room,' said Grochowski, looking round, 'plenty of +holy pictures on the walls, a painted bed, a wooden floor and flowers +in the windows. That must be your doing, gospodyni?' + +'Why, yes,' said the woman, pleased, 'he is always at the manor or in +the town and doesn't care about his home; it was all I could do to make +him lay the floor. Be so kind as to sit near the stove, neighbour, I'll +get supper.' + +She poured out a large bowl of peeled barley soup and put it on the +table, and a small one for Maciek. + +'Eat in God's name, and if you want anything, say so.' + +'But are not you going to sit down?' + +'I always eat last with the children. Maciek, you may take your bowl.' + +Maciek, grinning, took his portion and sat down on a bench opposite the +alcove, so that he could see the Soltys and listen to human +intercourse, for which he was longing. He looked contentedly from +behind his steaming bowl at the table; the smoking lamp seemed to him +the most brilliant illumination, and the wooden chairs the height of +comfort. The sight of the Soltys, who was lolling back, filled him with +reverence. Was it not he who had driven him to the recruiting-office +when it was the time for the drawing of lots? who had ordered him to be +taken to the hospital and told him he would come out completely cured? +who collected the taxes and carried the largest banner at the +processions and intoned 'Let us praise the Holy Virgin'? And now he, +Maciek Owczarz, was sitting under one roof with this same Grochowski. + +How comfortable he made himself! Maciek tried to lean back in the same +fashion, but the scandalized wall pushed him forward, reminding him +that he was not the Soltys. So although his back ached, he bent still +lower and hid his feet in their torn boots under the bench. Why should +he be comfortable? It was enough if the master and the Soltys were. He +ate his soup and listened with both ears. + +'What makes you take the cow to Gryb?' asked the gospodyni. + +'Because he wants to buy her.' + +'We might buy her ourselves.' + +'Yes, that might be so,' put in Slimak; 'the girl is here, the cow +should be here too.' + +'That's right, isn't it, Maciek?' asked the woman. + +'Oho, ho!' laughed Maciek, till the soup ran out of his spoon. + +'What's true is true,' said Grochowski; 'even Gryb ought to understand +that the cow ought to be where the girl is.' + +'Then sell her to us,' Slimak said quickly. + +Grochowski dropped his spoon on the table and his head on his chest. He +reflected for a while, then he said in a tone of resignation: + +'There's no help for it; as you are quite, decided I must sell you the +cow.' + +'But you'll take off something for us, won't you?' hastily added the +woman in an ingratiating tone. + +The Soltys reflected once more. + +'You see, it's like this; if it were my cow I would come down. But she +belongs to a poor orphan. How could I harm her? Give me thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble and the cow will be yours.' + +'That's too much,' sighed Slimak. + +'But she is worth it!' said the Soltys. + +'Still, money sits in the chest and doesn't eat.' + +'Neither will it give milk.' + +'I should have to rent the field.' + +'That will be cheaper than buying fodder.' + +A long silence ensued, then Slimak said: + +'Well, neighbour, say your last word.' + +'I tell you, thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble. Gryb will +be angry, but I'll do this for you.' + +The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a +bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate. + +'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka. + +'Drink in God's name!' + +They emptied the glasses and began to chew the dry sausage in silence. +Maciek was so affected by the sight of the vodka that he folded his +hands on his stomach. It struck him that those two must be feeling very +happy, so he felt happy too. + +'I really don't know whether to buy the cow or not,' said Slimak; 'your +price has taken the wish from me.' + +Grochowski moved uneasily on his chair. + +'My dear friend,' he said, 'what am I to do? this is the orphan's +affair. I have got to buy her land, if for no other reason but because +it annoys my wife.' + +'You won't give thirty-five roubles for an acre.' + +'Land is getting dearer, because the Germans want to buy it.' + +'The Germans?' + +'Those who bought Wolka. They want other Germans to settle near here.' + +'There were two Germans near my field asking me a lot of questions. I +didn't know what they wanted.' + +'There you are! they creep in. Directly one has settled, others come +like ants after honey, and then the land gets dearer.' + +'Do they know anything about peasants' work?' + +'Rather! They make more profits than we who are born here. The Germans +are clever; they have a lot of cattle, sow clover and carry on a trade +in the winter. We can't compete with them.' + +'I wonder what their religion is like? They talk to each other like +Jews.' + +'Their religion is better than the Jews',' the Soltys said, after +reflecting; 'but what is not Catholic is nothing. They have churches +with benches and an organ; but their priests are married and go about +in overcoats, and where the blessed Host ought to be on the altar they +have a crucifix, like ours in the porch.' + +'That's not as good as our religion.' + +'Why!' said Grochowski, 'they don't even pray to the Blessed Mother.' + +The gospodyni crossed herself. + +'It's odd that the Merciful God should bless such people with +prosperity. Drink, neighbour!' + +'To your health! Why should God not bless them, when they have a lot of +cattle? That's at the bottom of all prosperity.' + +Slimak became pensive and suddenly struck his fist on the table. + +'Neighbour,' he cried, raising his voice, 'sell me the cow!' + +'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table. + +'I'll give you...thirty-one roubles...as I love you.' Grochowski +embraced him. + +'Brother...give me...thirty...and four paper roubles and a silver +rouble for the halter.' + +The tired children cautiously stole into the room; the gospodyni poured +out some soup for them and told them to sit in the corner and be quiet. +And quiet they were, except at one moment when Stasiek fell off the +bench and his mother slapped Jendrek for it. Maciek dozed, dreaming +that he was drinking vodka. He felt the liquor going to his head and +fancied himself sitting by the Soltys and embracing him. The fumes of +the vodka and the lamp were filling the room. Slimak and Grochowski +moved closer together. + +'Neighbour...Soltys,' said Slimak, striking the table again. 'I'll give +you whatever you wish, your word is worth more than money to me, for +you are the cleverest man in the parish. The Wojt is a pig...you are +more to me than the Wojt or even the Government Inspector, for you are +cleverer than they are...devil take me!' + +They fell on each other's shoulders and Grochowski wept. + +'Josef, brother,...don't call me Soltys but brother...for we are +brothers!' + +'Wojciek...Soltys...say how much you want for the cow. I'll give it +you, I'll rip myself open to give it you...thirty-five paper roubles +and a silver rouble.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' wailed the gospodyni. 'Weren't you letting the cow +go for thirty-three roubles just now, Soltys?' + +Grochowski raised his tearful eyes first to her, then to Slimak. + +'Was I?... Josef...brother...I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Take her! let the orphan starve, so long as you, my brother, +get a prime cow.' + +Slimate beat a tattoo on the table. + +'Am I to cheat the orphan? I won't; I'll give you thirty-five....' + +'What are you doing, you fool?' his wife interrupted him. + +'Yes, don't be foolish,' Grochowski supported her. 'You have +entertained me so finely that I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Amen! that's my last word.' + +'I won't!' shouted Slimak. 'Am I a Jew that I should be paid for +hospitality?' + +'Josef!' his wife said warningly. + +'Go away, woman!' he cried, getting up with difficulty; 'I'll teach you +to mix yourself up in my affairs.' + +He suddenly fell into the embrace of the weeping Grochowski. + +'Thirty-five....' + +'Thirty-three...' sobbed the Soltys; 'may I not burn in hell!' + +'Josef,' his wife said, 'you must respect your guest; he is older than +you, and he is Soltys. Maciek, help me to get them into the barn.' + +'I'll go by myself,' roared Slimak. + +'Thirty-three roubles...' groaned Grochowski, 'chop me to bits, but I +won't take a grosz more.... I am a Judas.... I wanted to cheat you. I +said I was taking the cow to Gryb...but I was bringing her to you...for +you are my brother....' + +They linked arms and made for the window. Maciek opened the door into +the passage, and after several false starts they reached the courtyard. +The gospodyni took a lantern, rug and pillow, and followed them. When +she reached the yard she saw Grochowski kneeling and rubbing his eyes +with his sukmana and Slimak lying on the manure heap. Maciek was +standing over them. + +'We must do something with them,' he said to the gospodyni; 'they've +drunk a whole bottle of vodka.' + +'Get up, you drunkard,' she cried, 'or I'll pour water over your head.' + +'I'll pour it over you, I'll give you a whipping presently!' her +husband shouted back at her. + +Grochowski fell on his neck. + +'Don't make a hell of your house, brother, or grief will come to us +both.' + +Maciek could not wonder enough at the changes wrought in men by vodka. +Here was the Soltys, known in the whole parish as a hard man, crying +like a child, and Slimak shouting like the bailiff and disobeying his +wife. + +'Come to the barn, Soltys,' said Slimakowa, taking him by one arm while +Maciek took the other. He followed like a lamb, but while she was +preparing his bed on the straw, he fell upon the threshing-floor and +could not be moved by any manner of means. + +'Go to bed, Maciek,' said the gospodyni; 'let that drunkard lie on the +manure-heap, because he has been so disagreeable.' + +Maciek obeyed and went to the stable. When all was quiet, he began for +his amusement to pretend that he was drunk, and acted the part of +Slimak or the Soltys in turns. He talked in a tearful voice like +Grochowski: 'Don't make a hell of your house, brother...' and in order +to make it more real he tried to make himself cry. At first he did not +succeed, but when he remembered his foot, and that he was the most +miserable creature, and the gospodyni hadn't even given him a glass of +vodka, the tears ran freely from his eyes, until he too went to sleep. + +About midnight Slimak awoke, cold and wet, for it had begun to rain. +Gradually his aching head remembered the Soltys, the cow, the barley +soup and the large bottle of vodka. What had become of the vodka? He +was not quite certain on this point, but he was quite sure that the +soup had disagreed with him. + +'I always say you should not eat hot barley soup at night,' he groaned. + +He was no longer in doubt whether or no he was lying on the +manure-heap. Slowly he walked up to the cottage and hesitated on the +doorstep; but the rain began to fall more heavily. He stood still in +the passage and listened to Magda's snoring; then he cautiously opened +the door of the room. + +Stasiek lay on the bench under the window, breathing deeply. There was +no sound from the alcove, and he realized that his wife was not asleep. + +'Jagna, make room...' he tried to steady his voice, but he was seized +with fear. + +There was no answer. + +'Come...move up....' + +'Be off with you, you tippler, and don't come near me.' + +'Where am I to go?' + +'To the manure-heap or the pigsty, that's your proper place. You +threatened me with the whip! I'll take it out of you!' + +'What's the use of talking like that, when nothing is wrong?' said +Slimak, holding his aching head. + +'Nothing wrong? You insisted on paying thirty-five paper roubles and a +silver rouble when Grochowski was letting the cow go for thirty-three +roubles. Nothing wrong, indeed! do three roubles mean nothing to you?' + +Slimak crept to the bench where Stasiek lay and touched his feet. + +'Is that you, daddy?' the boy asked, waking up. + +'Yes, it's I.' + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm just sitting down; something is worrying me inside.' + +The boy put his arms round his neck. + +'I'm so glad you have come,' he said; 'those two Germans keep coming +after me.' + +'What Germans?' + +'Those two by our field, the old one and the man with the beard. They +don't say what they want, but they are walking on me.' + +'Go to sleep, child; there are no Germans here.' + +Stasiek pressed closer to him and began to chatter again: + +'Isn't it true, daddy, that the water can see?' + +'What should it see?' + +'Everything--everything--the sky, the hills; it sees us when we follow +the harrows.' + +'Go to sleep. Don't talk nonsense.' + +'It does, it does, daddy, I've watched it myself,' he whispered, going +to sleep. + +The room was too hot for Slimak; he dragged himself up and staggered to +the barn, where he fell into a bundle of straw. + +'But what I gave for the cow I gave for her,' he muttered in the +direction of the sleeping Grochowski. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Slimakowa came to the barn early the next morning and called her +husband. 'Are you going to be long idling there?' + +'What's the matter?' + +'It's time to go to the manor-house.' + +'Have they sent for me?' + +'Why should they send for you? You have got to go to them and see about +the field.' + +Slimak groaned, but came out on to the threshing-floor. His face was +bloated, he looked ashamed of himself, and his hair was full of straw. + +'Just look at him,' jeered his wife: 'his sukmana is dirty and wet, he +hasn't taken off his boots all night, and he scowls like a brigand. You +are more fit for a scarecrow in a flaxfield than for talking to the +squire. Change your clothes and go.' + +She returned to the cowshed, and a weight fell off Slimak's mind that +the matter had ended there. He had expected to be jeered at till the +afternoon. He came out into the yard and looked round. The sun was +high, the ground had dried after the rain; the wind from the ravines +brought the song of birds and a damp, cheerful smell; the fields had +become green during the night. The sky looked as if it had been +freshened up, and the cottage seemed whiter. + +'A nice day,' he murmured, gaining courage, and went indoors to dress. +He pulled the straw out of his hair and put on a clean shirt and new +boots. He thought they did not look polished enough, so he took a piece +of tallow and rubbed it well first over his hair, then over his boots. +Then he stood in front of the glass and smiled contentedly at the +brilliance he rejected from head to foot. + +His wife came in at that moment and looked disdainfully at him. + +'What have you been doing to your head? You stink of tallow miles off. +You'd better comb your hair.' + +Slimak, silently acknowledging the justice of the remark, took a thick +comb from behind the looking-glass and smoothed his hair till it looked +like polished glass, then he applied the soap to his neck so +energetically that his fingers left large, dark streaks. + +'Where is Grochowski?' he asked in a more cheerful voice, for the cold +water had added to his good temper. + +'He has gone.' + +'What about the money?' + +'I paid him, but he wouldn't take the thirty-three roubles; he said +that Jesus Christ had lived in this world for thirty-three years, so it +would not be right for him to take as much as that for the cow.' + +'Very proper,' Slimak agreed, wishing to impress her with his +theological knowledge, but she turned to the stove and took off a pot +of hot barley soup. Offering it to him with an air of indifference: +'Don't talk so much,' she said. 'Put something hot inside you and go to +the manor-house. But just try and bargain as you did with the Soltys +and I shall have something to say to you.' + +He sat humbly, eating his soup, and his wife took some money from the +chest. 'Take these ten roubles,' she said, 'give them to the squire +himself and promise to bring the rest to-morrow. But mind what he asks +for the field, and kiss his hands, and embrace his and the lady's feet +so that he may let you off at least three roubles. Will you remember?' + +'Why shouldn't I remember?' + +He was obviously repeating his wife's admonitions, for he suddenly +stopped eating and tapped the table rhythmically with the spoon. + +'Well, then, don't sit there and think, but put on your sukmana and go. +And take the boys with you.' + +'What for?' + +'What for? They are to support you when you ask the squire, and Jendrek +will tell me how you have bargained. Now do you know what for?' + +'Women are a pest!' growled Slimak, when she had unfolded her carefully +laid plans. 'Curse her, how she lords it over me! You can see that her +father was a bailiff.' + +He struggled into his sukmana, which was brand new and beautifully +embroidered at the collar and pockets with coloured thread; put on a +broad leather belt, tied the ten roubles up in a rag and slipped them +into his sukmana. The children had long been ready, and at last they +started. + +They had no sooner gone than loneliness began to fill Slimakowa's +heart. She went outside the gate and watched them; her husband, with +his hands in his pockets, was strolling along the road, Jendrek on his +right and Stasiek on his left. Presently Jendrek boxed Stasiek's ears +and as a result he was walking on the left and Stasiek on the right. +Then Slimak boxed both their ears, after which they were both walking +on the left, Jendrek in the ditch, so that he could threaten his +brother with his fist. + +'Bless them, they always find some nice amusement for themselves,' she +whispered, smiling, and went back to put on the dinner. + +Having settled the misunderstanding between his sons, Slimak sang +softly to himself: + + 'Your love is no courtier, + my own heart's desire, + He's riding a pony on his way to the squire.' + +Then in a more melancholy strain: + + 'Oh dearie, dearie me + This is great misery, + What shall I do?...' + +He sighed, and felt that no song could adequately express his anxiety. +Would the squire let him have the field? They were just passing it; he +was almost afraid to look at it, so beautiful and unattainable did it +seem. All the fines he had had to pay for his cattle, all the squire's +threats and admonitions came into his mind. It struck him that if the +field lay farther off and produced sand instead of good grass, he would +have a better chance. + +'Eh, I don't care!' he cried, throwing up his head with an air of +indifference; 'they've often asked me to take it.' + +That was so, but it had been at times when he had not wanted it; now +that he did, they would bargain hard, or not let him have it at all. +Who could tell why that should be so? It was a law of nature that +landlords and peasants were always at cross purposes. + +He remembered how often he had charged too much for work done, or how +often the gospodarze had refused to come to terms with the squire about +rights of grazing or wood-gathering in the forests, and he felt +contrite. Good Lord! how beautifully the squire had spoken to them: +'Let us help each other and live peaceably like good neighbours.' + +And they had answered: 'What's the good of being neighbours? A nobleman +is a nobleman and a peasant is a peasant. We should prefer peasants for +neighbours and you would prefer noblemen.' Then the squire had cited: +'Remember, the runaway goat came back to the cart and said, "Put me +in." But I shall say you nay.' And Gryb, in the name of them all, had +answered: 'The goat will come, your honour, when you throw your forests +open.' + +The squire had said nothing, but his trembling moustaches had warned +them that he would not forget that answer. + +'I always told Gryb not to talk with a long tongue,' Slimak sighed. +'Now it is I who will have to suffer for his impudence.' + +A new idea came into his head. Why should he not pay for the field in +work instead of cash? The Squire might accept it, for he wasn't half a +bad gentleman. It was true, the other gospodarze looked down upon him, +because he was the only one who hired himself out for work; but +whatever happened, the squire would always be the squire, and they the +gospodarze. He hummed again, but under his breath, so that the boys +should not hear him: + + 'The cuckoo cuckooed in the forest, + Say the neighbours, I am the dullest.' + +Suddenly he turned upon Stasiek, and wanted to know why he was dragging +along as if he were being taken to jail, and didn't talk. + +'I...I am wondering why we are going to the manor?' + +'Don't you want to go?' + +'No; I am afraid.' + +'What is there to be afraid of?' snapped Slimak, but he himself was +shivering. + +'You see, my boy,' he continued, more kindly, 'we have bought the new +cow from the Soltys and we shall want more hay, so I am going to ask +the squire to let me rent the field.' + +'I see....But, daddy, I am always wondering what the grass thinks when +the cows chew it up.' + +'What should it think? It doesn't think at all.' + +'But, daddy, why shouldn't it think? When people are standing round the +church in a crowd, they look like grass from a distance, all red and +yellow, like flowers in a field. If some horrible cow came and lapped +them up with her tongue, wouldn't they be able to think?' + +'People would scream, but the grass says nothing.' + +'It does say something! A dry stick cracks when you tread on it, and a +fresh branch cries and clings to the tree when you tear it off, and the +grass squeaks and holds on with its feet,...and...' + +'Oh! you are always saying queer things,' interrupted his father; 'and +you, Jendrek, are you glad that we are going to the manor-house?' + +'Is it I who is going or you?' said Jendrek, shrugging his shoulders. +'I shouldn't go.' + +'Well, what would you do?' + +'I should take the hay and stack it in the yard; then let them come!' + +'You would dare to cut the squire's hay?' + +'How is it his? Has he sown the grass? or is the field near his house?' + +'Don't you see, silly, that the meadow is his just as well as his other +fields?' + +'They are his, so long as no one takes them. Our land and our house +were his once, now they are yours. Why should he be better off than we +are? He does nothing, yet he has enough land for a hundred peasants.' + +'He has it because he has it, because he is a gentleman.' + +'Pooh! If you wore a coat, and your trousers outside your boots, you +would be a gentleman; but for all that you wouldn't have the land.' + +'You are stupid,' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I know I am stupid, that is because I can't read or write, but Jasiek +Gryb can, and therefore he is clever, and he says there must be +equality, and there will be when the peasants have taken the land from +the nobility.' + +'Jasiek had better leave off taking money from his father's chest +before he disposes of other people's property! He might give mine to +Maciek and take the squire's for himself, but he would never give his +own away. Let it be as God has ordered.' + +'Did God give the land to the squire?' + +'God has ordered that there should not be equality in the world. A pine +is tall, a hazel is low, the grass is still lower. Look at sensible +dogs. When a pail of dish-water is brought out to them, the strongest +drinks first, and the others stand by and lick their lips, although +they know that he will take the best part; then they all take their +turn. If they start quarrelling, they upset the pail and the strong get +the better of the weak. + +If people were to say to each other: Disgorge what you have swallowed, +the strong would drive off the weak and leave them to starve.' + +'But if God has given the land to the squire, how can they begin to +distribute it to the people now?' + +'They distribute it so that every one should get what is right for him, +not that he should take what he likes.' + +His son's amazing views added a new worry to Slimak's mind. + +'The rascal! listening to people of that sort! he'll never make a +peasant; it's a mercy he hasn't stolen yet.' + +They were nearing the drive to the manor-house, and Slimak was walking +more and more slowly; Stasiek looked more and more frightened, Jendrek +alone kept his saucy air. + +Through the dark branches of old lime-trees the roof and chimneys of +the manor became visible. Suddenly two shots rang out. + +'They are shooting!' cried Jendrek excitedly, and ran forward. Stasiek +caught hold of his father's pocket. Slimak called Jendrek, who returned +sulkily. They were now on the terrace, where the manor-fields stretched +on either side. Lower down lay the village, still lower the field by +the river, in front of them was the manor, with the outbuildings, +enclosed by a railing. + +'There! that's the manor-house,' said Slimak to Stasiek. 'Isn't it +beautiful?' + +'Which one is it?' + +'Why! the one with pillars in front.' + +Another shot rang out, and they saw a man in fanciful sportsman's +dress. + +'The horseman of yesterday,' cried Jendrek. + +'Ah, that freak!' said Slimak, scrutinizing him with his head on one +side; 'he'll bring me bad luck about the field.' + +'He has a splendid gun,' cried Jendrek; 'but what is he shooting? +There's nothing but sparrows here.' + +'Perhaps he is shooting at us?' suggested Stasiek timidly. + +'Why should he be shooting at us?' his father reassured him; 'shooting +at people isn't allowed. It's true there is no knowing what a lunatic +might do.' + +The sportsman approached, loading his gun; the tattered remains of some +sparrows hung from his bag. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak, taking off his cap. + +'How do you do, citizen?' replied the sportsman, touching his jockey +cap. + +'What a lovely gun!' sighed Jendrek. + +'Do you like it? Eh, wasn't it you who picked up my cap the other day? +I am in your debt; here you are.' He handed Jendrek a twenty-kopek +piece. 'Is that your father? Citizen, if you want to be friends with +me, do not bow so low, and cover your head. It is time that these +survivals of servitude should be forgotten; they can only do us both +harm. Cover yourself, I beg you.' + +Slimak tried to do as he was told, but his hand refused obedience. + +'I feel awkward, sir, standing before you with my cap on,' he said. + +'Oh, hang hereditary social differences!' exclaimed the young man, +snatching the cap from Slimak's hands and putting it on his head. + +'Hang it all!' thought the peasant, unable to follow the democrat's +intentions. + +'What are you going to the manor for?' asked the latter. 'Have you come +on business with my brother-in-law?' + +'We want to beg a favour of the squire'--Slimak refrained with +difficulty from bowing again--'that he should let us rent the field +close to my property.' + +'What for?' + +'We've bought a new cow.' + +'How much cattle have you?' + +'The Lord Jesus possesses five tails in my gospodarstwo, two horses and +three cows, not counting the pigs.' + +'And have you much land?' + +'I wish to God I had, but I have only ten acres, and those are growing +more sterile every year.' + +'That's because you don't understand agriculture. Ten acres is a large +property; in other countries several families live comfortably on that; +here it is not enough for one. But what can you expect if you sow +nothing but rye?' + +'What else should I sow, sir? Wheat doesn't do very well.' + +'Vegetables, my friend, that does the trick! The market gardeners near +Warsaw pay thirty or forty roubles an acre rent and do excellently +well.' + +Slimak hung his head. He was much perturbed, for he had arrived at the +conclusion that the squire would not let him have the field, because he +had so much land already, or that he would ask him thirty or forty +roubles' rent. What other object could the young gentleman possibly +have for saying, such strange things? + +They were approaching the entrance to the garden. + +'I see my sister is in the garden; my brother-in-law is sure to be +about too. I will go and tell him of your business.' + +Slimak bowed low, but inwardly he thought: 'May the pestilence take +him! He is impertinent to my wife, stirs up the boy, and puts my cap on +my head; but he wants to squeeze money out of me, all the same. I knew +he would bring me bad luck.' + +Sounds of an American organ which the squire was playing came from the +house. + +'Daddy, daddy, they are playing!' cried Stasiek in great excitement; he +was flushed, and trembled with emotion, even Jendrek was affected. +Slimak took off his cap and said a prayer for deliverance from the evil +spell of the young gentleman. + +When the organ stopped, they watched this same young gentleman talking +to his sister in the garden. + +'Look at the lady, dad,' said Jendrek; 'she is just like a horsefly, +yellow with black spots, and thin in the waist and fat at the end.' + +The democrat was putting Slimak's case before his sister, and +complained of the signs of servility with which he met at every turn. +He said they spoilt his temper. + +'But what can I do?' said the lady. + +'Go up to them and give them courage.' + +'I like that!' she said. 'I arranged a treat for our farm-labourers' +children to encourage them, and next day they plundered my peach trees. +Go to them? I've done that too. I once went into a cottage where a +child was ill, and my clothes smelt so strongly that I had to give them +to my maid. No, thank you!' + +'All the same, I beg you to do something for these people.' + +Their conversation had been in French while they were approaching the +railings. + +'Oh, it's Slimak.' The lady raised her glasses. 'Well, my good man, my +brother wants me to do something for you. Have you got a daughter?' + +'I haven't, my lady,' said Slimak, kissing the hem of her dress. + +'That's a pity, I might have taught her to do beadwork. Perhaps I could +teach the boys to read?' + +'They are wanted at home, my lady; the elder one is useful already, and +the younger one looks after the pigs in the fields.' + +'Do something for them yourself,' she said to her brother in French. + +'What are they plotting against me?' thought Slimak. + +The squire now came out and joined the group. Slimak began bowing +again, Stasiek's eyes filled with tears, even Jendrek lost his +self-assurance. The conversation reverted into French, and the democrat +warmly supported Slimak's cause. + +'All right, I'll let him have the field,' said the squire; 'then there +will be an end to the trespassing; besides, he is the most honest man +in the village.' + +When Slimak's suspense had become so acute that he had thoughts of +returning home without having settled the business, the squire said: + +'So you want me to let you have the field by the river?' + +'If you will be so kind, sir.' + +'And if you will kindly take off three roubles,' + +Jendrek added quickly. Slimak's blood ran cold; the squire exchanged +glances with his wife. + +'What does that mean?' he asked. 'From what am I to take off three +roubles?' + +Involuntarily Slimak's hand reached for his belt, but he recollected +himself; he made up his mind in despair to tell the truth. + +'If you please, sir, don't take any notice of that puppy; my wife has +been at me for not bargaining well, and she told me to get you to take +three roubles off the rent, and now this young scoundrel puts me to +shame.' + +'Mother told me to look after you.' + +Slimak became absolutely tongue-tied, and the party on the other side +of the railing were convulsed with laughter. + +'Look,' said the squire in French, 'that is the peasant all over. He +won't allow you to speak a word to his wife, but he can't do anything +without her, and doesn't understand any business whatsoever without her +explanations.' + +'Lovely!' laughed his wife, 'now, if you did as I tell you, we should +have left this dull place long ago and gone to Warsaw.' + +'Don't make the peasant out to be an idiot,' remonstrated his +brother-in-law. + +'No need for me to do that; he _is_ an idiot. Our peasants are all +muscle and stomach; they leave reason and energy to their wives. Slimak +is one of the most intelligent, yet I will bet you anything that I can +immediately give you a proof of his being a donkey. Josef,' he said, +turning to Slimak, 'your wife told you to drive a good bargain?' + +'Certainly, sir, what is true is true.' + +'Do you know what Lukasiak pays me yearly?' + +'They say ten roubles.' + +'Then you ought to pay twenty roubles for the two acres.' + +'If you will be lenient, sir,' began Slimak. + +'... and let me off three roubles,' completed the squire. Slimak looked +confused. + +'Very good, I will let you off three roubles; you shall pay me +seventeen roubles yearly. Are you satisfied!' + +Slimak bowed to the ground and thought: 'What is he up to? He is not +bargaining!' + +'Now, Slimak,' continued the squire, 'I will make you another proposal. +Do you know what Gryb paid me for the two acres he bought?' + +'Seventy roubles.' + +'Just so, and he paid for the surveyor and the lawyer. I will sell you +those two acres for sixty roubles and let you off all expenses, so you +would gain a clear twenty roubles against Gryb's bargain, But I make +one condition, you must decide at once and without consulting your +wife; to-morrow my conditions wouldn't be the same.' + +Slimak's eyes blazed; he fancied he saw quite clearly now that there +was a conspiracy against him. + +'That's not a handsome thing to offer, sir,' he said, with a forced +smile; 'you yourself consult with the lady and the young gentleman.' +'There you are! Isn't he a finished idiot?' + +His brother-in-law tapped Slimak on the shoulder. 'Agree to it, my +friend; you'll have the best of the bargain. Of course he agrees,' he +said, turning to the squire. + +'Well, Josef, will you buy it? Do you agree to my conditions?' + +'I'm not such a fool,' thought Slimak, and aloud: 'It wouldn't be fair +to buy it without my wife.' + +'Very well, I'll let it to you. Give me your earnest-money and come for +the receipt to-morrow. There you have the peasant, my democrat!' + +Slimak paid the ten roubles and glared at the retreating party. + +'Ah! you'd like to cheat a peasant, but he has got too much sense! It's +true, then, what Grochowski said about the land-distribution. Sixty +roubles for a field worth seventy, indeed!' + +All the same he could not quite get rid of the thought that it might +have been a straightforward offer. He felt hot all over and wanted to +shout or run after the squire. At that moment the young man hastily +turned back. + +'Buy that field,' he said, quite out of breath; 'my brother-in-law +would still consent if you asked him.' + +In an instant Slimak's distrust returned. + +'No, sir; it wouldn't be fair.' + +'Cattle!' murmured the democrat, and turned his back. The bargain had +disappeared. + +'Let's go home, boys,' and under his breath: 'Damn the aristocracy!' +When they were nearing their home, the boys ran on ahead, for they were +hungry. + +'What is this Jendrek tells me? They wanted to sell you the land for +sixty roubles?' + +'That is so,' he replied, rather frightened; 'they are afraid of the +new land-distributions. They are clever too! They knew all about my +business beforehand, and the squire had set his brother-in-law on to +me.' + +'What! that fellow who spoke to me by the river?' + +'That same fool. He gave Jendrek twenty kopeks and put my cap on my +head, and he told me ten acres was a fortune.' + +'A fortune? His brother-in-law has a thousand and says he hasn't +enough! You did quite right not to buy the field; there is something +shady about that business.' + +But his wife's satisfaction did not completely reassure Slimak; he was +wretchedly in doubt. His dinner gave him no pleasure, and he strolled +about the house without knowing what to do. When his irritation had +reached its climax, a happy thought struck him. + +'Come here, Jendrek,' he said, unbuckling his belt. + +'Oh, daddy, don't,' wailed the boy, although he had been prepared for +the last two hours. + +'You won't escape it this time; lie down on the bench. You've been +laughing at the young gentleman and even making fun of the squire.' + +Stasiek, in tears, embraced his father's knees, Magda ran out of the +room, Jendrek howled. + +'I tell you, lie down! I'll teach you to run about with that scoundrel +of a Jasiek!' + +At that moment Slimakowa tapped at the window. 'Josef, come quick, +something has happened to the new cow, she's staggering.' + +Slimak let go of Jendrek and ran to the cowshed. The three cows were +standing quietly chewing the cud. + +'It has passed off,' said the woman; 'but I tell you a minute ago she +was staggering worse than you did yesterday.' + +He examined the cow carefully, but could find nothing wrong with her. + +Jendrek had meanwhile slipped away, his father's temper had cooled, and +the matter ended as usual on these occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was the height of summer. The squire and his wife had gone away, and +the villagers had forgotten all about them. New wool had begun to grow +on the shorn sheep. + +The sun was so hot that the clouds fled from the sky into the woods, +and the ground protected itself with what it could find; with dust on +the highroads, grass in the meadows, and heavy crops in the fields. + +But human beings had to toil their hardest at this time. At the manor +they were cutting clover and hoeing turnips; in the cottages the women +were piling up the potatoes, while the old women were gathering mallows +for cooling drinks and lime-blossoms against the ague. The priest spent +all his days tracking and taking swarms of bees; Josel, the innkeeper, +was making vinegar. The woods resounded with the voices of children +picking berries. + +The corn was getting ripe, and Slimak began to cut the rye the day +after the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was in a hurry to +get the work done in two or three days, lest the corn should drop out +in the great heat, and also because he wanted to help with the +harvesting at the manor. + +Usually he, Maciek, and Jendrek worked together, alternately cutting +and binding the sheaves. Slimakowa and Magda helped in the early +morning and in the afternoon. + +On the first day, while the five were working together, and had reached +the top of the hill, Magda noticed some men showing against the dark +background of the wood, and drew Slimakowa's attention to them. They +all stopped work and looked. + +'They must be peasants,' Maciek said; 'they are wearing white smocks.' + +'They do not walk like peasants,' said Slimakowa. + +'But they are wearing boots up to their knees,' said Slimak. + +'Look! they are carrying poles,' Jendrek cried; 'and they are dragging +a rope after them.' + +'Ah, they must be surveyors. What can they be after?' reflected Slimak. + +'Surely, they are taking a fresh survey; now, Josef, aren't you glad +you did not buy that land?' asked his wife. They took up their work +again, but did not get on very fast, for they could not resist throwing +sidelong glances at the approaching men. It was now quite plain that +they were not peasants, for they wore white coats and had black ribbons +on their hats. Slimak's attention became so absorbed that he lagged +behind, in the place which Magda usually occupied, instead of being at +the head of the party. At last he cried: + +'Jendrek, stop cutting; run and find out what they are doing, and if +they are really measuring for a new land-distribution.' + +Jendrek was off in a moment, and had soon reached the men. He forgot to +come back. The little party watched him talk to the men for a few +moments, and then becoming busy with the poles. + +'I say!' cried Slimakowa, 'he is quite one of the party! Just look, how +he is running along with the line, as if he had never done anything +else in his life. He has never seen a book except in the Jew's shop +window, and yet he can run better than any of them. I wish I had told +him to put on his boots; they will never take him for the son of a +gospodarz.' + +She watched Jendrek with great pride until the party disappeared behind +the line of the hill. + +'Something will come of this,' said Slimak, 'either good or bad.' + +'Why should it be bad?' asked his wife; 'they may add to our land; what +do you think, Maciek?' + +The farm labourer looked embarrassed when he was asked for his opinion, +and pondered until the perspiration flowed from his head. + +'Why should it be good?' he said at last. 'When I was working for the +squire at Krzeszowie, and he went bankrupt, just such men as these came +and measured the land, and soon afterwards we had to pay a new tax. No +good ever comes of anything new.' + +Jendrek returned towards sunset, quite out of breath. He called out to +his mother that the gentlemen wanted some milk, and had given him +twenty kopeks. + +'Give them to your mother at once,' said Slimak; 'they are not for you, +but for the milk.' + +Jendrek was almost in tears. 'Why should I give up my money? They say +they will pay for everything they have, and even want to buy butter and +fowls.' + +'Are they traders?' + +'Oh no, they are great gentlemen, and live in a tent and keep a cook.' + +'Gipsies, I dare say!' + +Slimakowa had run off at top speed, and now the men appeared, +perspiring, sunburnt, and dusty; nevertheless, they impressed Slimak +and Maciek so much with their grand manner that they took off their +caps. + +'Which of you is the gospodarz?' + +'I am.' + +'How long have you lived here?' + +'From my childhood.' + +'And have you ever seen the river in flood?' + +'I should think I had!' + +'Do you remember how high the water rises?' + +'Sometimes it overflows on to that meadow deep enough to drown a man.' + +'Are you quite sure of that?' + +'Everybody knows that. Those gaps in the hill have been scooped out by +the water.' + +'The bridge will have to be sixty feet high.' + +'Certainly,' said the elder of the two men. 'Can you let us have some +milk, gospodarz?' + +'My wife is getting it ready, if it pleases the gentlemen to come.' + +The whole party turned towards the cottage, for the drinking of milk by +such distinguished gentlemen was an important event; it was decided to +stop harvesting for the day. + +Chairs and the cherrywood table had been placed in front of the +cottage. A rye loaf, butter, white cheese with caraway seeds, and a +bowl of buttermilk were in readiness. + +'Well,' said the men, looking at each other in surprise, 'a nobleman +could not have received us better.' + +They ate heartily, praised everything, and finally asked Slimakowa what +they owed her. + +'May it be to the gentlemen's health!' + +'But we cannot fleece you like this, gospodyni.' + +'We don't take money for hospitality. Besides, you have already given +my boy as much as if he had been harvesting a whole day.' + +'There!' whispered the younger man to the elder, 'isn't that like +Polish peasants?' + +To Slimak they said: 'After such a reception we will promise to build +the station quite near to you.' + +'I don't know what you mean?' + +'We are going to build a railway.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'What makes you so doubtful?' asked the men. + +'I'm thinking that this will turn out badly for us,' Slimak replied; 'I +shan't earn anything by driving.' + +The men laughed. 'Don't be afraid, my friend, it will be a very good +thing for everybody, especially for you, as you will be near the +station. And first of all you will sell us your produce and drive us. +Let us begin at once, what do you want for your fowls?' + +'I leave it to you, sir.' + +'Twenty-five kopeks, then.' + +Slimakowa looked at her husband. This was double the amount they had +usually taken. 'You can have them, sir,' she cried. + +'That scoundrel of a Jew charged us fifty,' murmured the younger man. + +They agreed to buy butter, cheese, crayfish, cucumber, and bread; the +younger man expressing surprise at the cheapness of everything, and the +elder boasting that he always knew how to drive a good bargain. When +they left, they paid Slimakowa sixteen paper roubles and half a silver +rouble, asking her if she was sure that she was not cheating herself. + +'God forbid,' she replied. 'I wish I could sell every day at that +price.' + +'You will, when we have built the railway.' + +'May God bless you!' She made the sign of the cross over them, the farm +labourer knelt down, and Slimak took off his cap. They all accompanied +their guests as far as the ravines. + +When they returned, Slimak set everyone to work in feverish haste. + +'Jagna, get the butter ready; Maciek and Jendrek, go to the river for +the crayfish; Magda, take three score of the finest cucumbers, and +throw in an extra ten. Jesus Mary! Have we ever done business like +this! You will have to buy yourself a new silk kerchief, and a new +shirt for Jendrek.' + +'Our luck has come,' said Slimakowa, 'and I must certainly buy a silk +kerchief, or else no one in the village will believe that we have made +so much money.' + +'I don't quite like it that the new carriages will go without horses,' +said Slimak; 'but that can't be helped.' + +When they took their produce to the engineers' encampment, they +received fresh orders, for there were more than a dozen men, who made +him their general purveyor. Slimak went round to the neighbouring +cottages and bought what he needed, making a penny profit on every +penny he spent, while his customers praised the cheapness of the +produce. After a week the party moved further off, and Slimak found +himself in possession of twenty-five roubles that seemed to have fallen +from the sky, not counting what he had earned for the hire of his +horses and cart, and payment for the days of labour he had lost. But +somehow the money made him feel ashamed. + +'Do you know, Jagna,' he said, 'perhaps we ought to go after the +gentlemen and give them back their money.' + +'Oh nonsense!' cried the woman, 'trading is always like that. What did +the Jew charge for the chickens? just double your price.' + +'But it is the Jew's trade, and besides, he isn't a Christian.' + +'Therefore he makes the greater profits. Come, Josef, the gentlemen did +not pay for the things only, but for the trouble you took.' + +This, and the thought that everybody who came from Warsaw obviously had +much money to spend, reassured the peasant. + +As he and the rest of the family were so much occupied with their new +duties, all the harvesting fell to Maciek's share. He had to go to the +hill from early dawn till late at night, and cut, bind, and shock the +sheaves single-handed. But in spite of his industry the work took +longer than usual, and Slimak hired old Sobieska to help him. She came +at six o'clock, armed with a bottle of 'remedy' for a wound in the leg, +did the work of two while she sang songs which made even Maciek blush, +until the afternoon, and then took her 'remedy'. The cure then pulled +her down so much that the scythe fell from her hand. + +'Hey, gospodarz!' she would shout. 'You are raking in the money and +buying your wife silk handkerchiefs, but the poor farm labourers have +to creep on all fours. It's "Cut the corn, Sobieska and Maciek, and I +will brag about like a gentleman!" You will see, he will soon call +himself "Pan Slimaczinski."[1] He is the devil's own son, for ever and +ever. Amen.' + +[Footnote 1: The ending _ski_ denotes nobility.] + +She would fall into a furrow and sleep until sundown, though she was +paid for a full day's work. As she had a sharp tongue, Slimak had no +wish to offend her. When he haggled about the money, she would kiss his +hand and say: 'Why should you fall out with me, sir? Sell one chicken +more and you'll be all right.' + +'Cheek always pays!' thought Maciek. + +On the following Sunday, when everyone was ready to go to church, +Maciek sat down and sighed heavily. + +'Why, Maciek, aren't you going to church?' asked Slimak, seeing that +something was amiss. + +'How can I go to church? You would be ashamed of me.' + +'What's the matter with you?' + +'Nothing is the matter with me, but my feet keep coming through my +boots.' + +'That's your own fault, why didn't you speak before? Your wages are +due, and I will give you six roubles.' + +Maciek embraced his feet.... + +'But mind you buy the boots, and don't drink away the money.' + +They all started; Slimak walked with his wife, Magda with the boys, and +Maciek by himself at a little distance. He dreamt that Slimak would +become a gentleman when the railway was finished, and that he, Maciek, +would then wait at table, and perhaps get married. Then he crossed +himself for having such reckless ideas. How could a poor fellow like +him think of marrying? Who would have him? Probably not even Zoska, +although she was wrong in the head and had a child. + +This was a memorable Sunday for Slimak and his wife. She had bought a +silk kerchief at a stall, given twenty kopeks to the beggars, and sat +down in the front pew, where Grybina and Lukasiakowa had at once made +room for her. As for Slimak, everyone had something to say to him. The +publican reproached him for spoiling the prices for the Jews, the +organist reminded him that it would be well to pay for an extra Mass +for the souls of the departed, even the policeman saluted him, and the +priest urged him to keep bees: 'You might come round to the Vicarage, +now that you have money and spare time, and perhaps buy a few hives. It +does no harm to remember God in one's prosperity and keep bees and give +wax to the Church.' + +Gryb came up with an unpleasant smile. 'Surely, Slimak, you will treat +everybody all round to-day, since you've been so successful?' + +'You don't treat the village when you have made a good bargain, neither +shall I,' Slimak snubbed him. + +'That's not surprising, since I don't make as much profit on a cow as +you make on a chicken.' + +'All the same, you're richer than other people.' + +'There you're right,' Wisniewski supported Slimak, asking him for the +loan of a couple of roubles at the same time. But when Slimak refused, +he complained of his arrogance. + +Maciek did not get much comfort out of the money given him for boots. +He stood humbly at the back of the church, so that the Lord should not +see his torn sukmana. Then the beggars reminded him that he never gave +them anything. He went to the public-house to get change. + +'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican. + +'What money?' + +'Have you forgotten? You owe me two roubles since Christmas' + +Maciek swore at him. 'Everybody knows that one can only get a drink +from you for cash.' + +'That's true on the whole. But when you were tipsy at Christmas, you +embraced and kissed me so many times, I couldn't help myself and gave +you credit.' + +'Have you got witnesses?' Maciek said sharply. 'I tell you, old Jew, +you won't take me in.' + +The publican reflected for a moment. + +'I have no witnesses,' he said, 'therefore I will never mention the +matter to you again. Since you swear to me here in the presence of +other people, that you did not kiss me and beg for credit, I make you a +present of your debt, but it's a shame,' the publican added, spitting, +'that a man working for such a respectable gospodarz as Slimak, should +cheat a poor Jew. Don't ever set foot in my inn again!' + +The labourer hesitated. Did he really owe that money? + +'Well,' he said, 'since you say I owe you the money, I will give it +you. But take care God does not punish you if you are wronging me.' In +his heart, however, he doubted whether God would ever punish any one on +account of such a low creature as he was. + +He was just leaving the inn sadly, when a band of Galician harvesters +came in. They sat down at the table, discussing the profits that would +be made from the building of the new railway. + +Maciek went up to them, and seeing that their appearance was not much +less ragged than his own, he asked if it was true that there were +railroads[1] in the world? 'No one,' he said,'would have iron enough to +cover roads, not even the government.' The labourers laughed, but one, +a huge fellow with a soldier's cap, said: 'What is there to laugh at? +Of course a clodhopper does not know what a railway is. Sit down, +brother, and I'll tell you all about it, but let's have a bottle of +vodka.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish word for 'railway' is 'iron road'.] + +Before Maciek had decided, the publican had brought the vodka. + +'Why shouldn't he have vodka?' he said, 'he is a good-natured fellow, +he has stood treat before.' + +What happened afterwards, Maciek did not clearly remember. He thought +that some one told him how fast an engine goes, and that some one else +shouted, he ought to buy boots. Later on he was seized by his arms and +legs and carried to the stable. One thing was certain, he returned +without a penny. Slimakowa would not look at him, and Slimak said: 'You +are hopeless, Maciek, you'll never get on, for the devil always leads +you into bad company.' + +So it happened that Maciek went without new boots, but a few weeks +later he acquired a possession he had never dreamt of. + +It was a rainy September evening; the more the day declined, the +heavier became the layers of clouds. Lower and lower they descended, +torn and gloomy. Forest, hill, and valley, even the fence dissolved +gradually into the grey veil. The heavy, persistent rain penetrated +everything; the ground was full of it, soaked through like kneaded +dough; the road was full of it, running with yellow streams; the yard, +where it stood in large puddles, was full of it. Roofs and walls were +dripping, the animals' skins and even human souls were saturated with +it. + +Everybody in the gospodarstwo was thinking vaguely of supper, but no +one was in the mood for it. The gospodarz yawned, the gospodyni was +cross, the boys were sleepy, Magda did even less than usual. They +looked at the fire, where the potatoes were slowly boiling, at the +door, to watch Maciek come in, or at the window, where the raindrops +splashed, falling from the higher, the lower, and the lowest clouds, +from the thatch, from the fading leaves of the trees, and from the +window frames. When all these splashes mingled into one, they sounded +like approaching footfalls. Then the cottage door creaked. 'Maciek,' +muttered the gospodarz. But Maciek did not appear. + +A hand was groping along the passage wall. + +'What's the matter with him, has he gone blind?' impatiently exclaimed +the gospodyni, and opened the door. + +Something which was not Maciek was standing in the passage, a shapeless +figure, not tall, but bulky. It was wrapped in a soaking wet shawl. +Slimakowa stepped back for a moment, but when the firelight fell into +the passage, she discerned a human face in the opening of the shawl, +copper-coloured, with a broad nose and slanting eyes that were hardly +visible under the swollen eyelids. + +'The Lord be praised,' said a hoarse voice. + +'You, Zoska?' asked the astonished gospodyni. + +'It is I.' + +'Come in quickly, you are letting all the damp into the room.' + +The new-comer stepped forward, but stood still, irresolutely. She held +a child in her arms whose face was as white as chalk, with blue lips; +she drew out one of its arms; it looked like a stick. + +'What are you doing out in weather like this?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm going after a place.' She looked round, and decided to crouch down +on the floor, near the wall. 'They say in the village that you have a +lot of money now; I thought you might want a girl.' + +'We don't want a girl, there is not even enough for Magda to do. Why +are you out of a place?' + +'I've been harvesting in the summer, but now no one will take me in +with the child. If I were alone I could get along.' + +Maciek came in, and not being aware of Zoska's presence, started on +seeing a crouching form on the floor. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I thought Slimak might take me on, but he doesn't want me with the +child.' + +'Oh Lord!' sighed the man, moved by the sight of poverty greater than +his own. + +'Why, Maciek, that sounds as if you had a bad conscience,' said the +gospodyni disagreeably. + +'It makes one feel bad, to see such wretchedness,' he murmured. + +'The man whose fault it is would feel it most!' + +'It isn't my fault, but I'm sorry for them all the same.' + +'Why don't you take the child, then, if you are so sorry?' sneered +Slimakowa, 'you'll give him the child, Zoska, won't you? Is it a boy?' + +'A girl,' whispered Zoska, with her eyes fixed on Maciek, 'she is two +years old... yes, he can have her, if he likes.' + +'She'd be a deal of trouble to me,' muttered the labourer, 'all the +same, it's a pity.' + +'Take her,' repeated Zoska, 'Slimak is rich, you are rich....' + +'Oh yes, Maciek is rich,' laughed Slimakowa, 'he drinks through six +roubles in one Sunday.' + +'If you can drink through six roubles, you can take her,' Zoska cried +vehemently, pulling the child out of the shawl and laying it on the +floor. It looked frightened, but did not utter a sound. + +'Shut up, Jagna, and don't talk nonsense,' said Slimak. Zoska stood up +and stretched herself. + +'Now I shall be easy for once,' she said, 'I've often thought I'd like +to throw her away into a ditch, but you may as well have her. Mind you +look after her properly! If I come back and don't find her, I'll +scratch out your eyes.' + +'You are crazy,' said Slimak, 'cross yourself.' + +'I won't cross myself, I'll go away....' + +'Don't be a fool, and sit down to supper,' angrily cried the gospodyni. +She took the saucepan off so impetuously, that the hot ashes flew all +over the stove, and one touched Zoska's bare feet. + +'Fire!... fire!' she shouted, and escaped from the room, 'the cottage +is on fire, everything is on fire!' + +She staggered out like a drunken person, and they could hear her voice +farther and farther off, shouting 'Fire!' until the rain drowned it. + +'Run, Maciek, and bring her back,' cried Slimakowa. But Maciek did not +stir. + +'You can't send a man after a mad woman on a night like this,' said +Slimak. + +'Well, what am I to do with this dog's child? Do you think I shall feed +her?' + +'I dare say you won't throw her over the fence. You needn't worry, +Zoska will come back for her.' + +'I don't want her here for the night.' + +'Then what are you going to do with her?' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I'll take her to the stable,' Maciek said in a low voice, lifting the +child up awkwardly. He sat down on the bench with it and rocked it +gently on his knees. There was silence in the room. Presently Magda, +Jendrek, and Stasiek emerged from their corner and stood by Maciek, +looking at the little creature. + +'She is as thin as a lath,' whispered Magda. + +'She doesn't move or look at us,' remarked Jendrek. + +'You must feed her from a rag,' advised Magda, 'I will find you a clean +one.' + +'Sit down to supper,' ordered Slimakowa, but her voice sounded less +angry. She looked at the child, first from a distance, then she bent +over it and touched its drawn yellow skin. + +'That bitch of a mother!' she murmured, 'Magda, put a little milk in a +saucer, and you, Maciek, sit down to supper.' + +'Let Magda sit down, I'll feed her myself.' + +'Feed her!' cried Magda, 'he doesn't even know how to hold her.' She +tried to take the child from him. + +'Don't pull her to pieces,' said the gospodyni, 'pour out the milk and +let Maciek feed her, if he is so keen on it.' + +The way in which Maciek performed his task elicited much advice from +Magda. 'He has poured the milk all over her mouth...it's running on to +the floor...why do you stick the rag into her nose?' + +Although he felt that he was making a bad nurse, Maciek would not let +the child out of his hands. He hastily ate a little soup, left the +rest, and went to his night-quarters in the stable, sheltering the +child under his sukmana. When he entered, one of the horses neighed, +and the other turned his head and sniffed at the child in the darkness. + +'That's right, greet the new stable-boy who can't even hold a whip,' +laughed Maciek. + +The rain continued to fall. When Slimak looked out later on, the stable +door was shut, and he fancied he could hear Maciek snoring. + +He returned into the room. + +'Are they all right in there?' asked his wife. + +'They are asleep,' he replied, and bolted the door. + +The cocks had crowed midnight, the dog had barked his answer and +squeezed under the cart for shelter, everybody was asleep. Then the +stable door creaked, and a shadow stole out, moved along the walls and +disappeared into the cowshed. It was Maciek. He drew the whimpering +child from under his sukmana and put its mouth to the cow's udder. + +'Suck, little one,' he whispered, 'suck the cow, because your mother +has left you.' + +A few moments later smacking sounds were heard. + +And the rain continued to drip...drip...drip, monotonously. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The announcement that the railway was to be built in the spring caused +a great stir in the village. The strangers who went about buying land +from the peasants were the sole topic of conversation at the +spinning-wheels on winter evenings. One poor peasant had sold his +barren gravel hill, and had been able to purchase ten acres of the best +land with the proceeds. + +The squire and his wife had returned in December, and it was rumoured +that they were going to sell the property. The squire was playing the +American organ all day long, as usual, and only laughed when the people +timidly asked him whether there was any truth in the report. It was the +lady who had told her maid in the evening how gay the life in Warsaw +would be; an hour later the bailiff's clerk, who was the maid's +sweetheart, knew of it; early the next morning the clerk repeated it to +the bailiff and to the foreman as a great secret, and by the afternoon +all the employees and labourers were discussing the great secret. In +the evening it had reached the inn, and then rapidly spread into the +cottages and to the small town. + +The power of the little word 'Sale' was truly marvellous. + +It made the farm labourers careless in their work and the bailiff give +notice at New Year; it made the mute hard-working animals grow lean, +the sheaves disappear from the barn and the corn from the granary; it +made off with the reserve cart-wheels and harnesses, pulled the +padlocks off the buildings, took planks out of the fences, and on dark +nights it swallowed up now a chicken, now even a sheep or a small pig, +and sent the servants to the public-house every night. + +A great, a sonorous word! It sounded far and wide, and from the little +town came the trades people, presenting their bills. It was written on +the face of every man, in the sad eyes of the neglected beasts, on all +the doors and on the broken window-panes, plastered up with paper. +There were only two people who pretended not to hear it, the gentleman +who played the American organ and the lady who dreamt of going to +Warsaw. When the neighbours asked them, he shrugged his shoulders, and +she sighed and said: 'We should like to sell, it's dull living in the +country, but my father in Warsaw has not yet had an offer.' + +Slimak, who often went to work at the manor, had also heard the rumour, +but he did not believe it. When he met the squire he would look at him +and think: 'He can't help being as he is, but if such a misfortune +should befall him, I should be grieved for him. They have been settled +at the manor from father to son; half the churchyard is full of them, +they have all grown up here. Even a stone would fret if it were moved +from such a place, let alone a man. Surely, he can't be bankrupt like +other noblemen? It's well known that he has money.' + +The peasant judged his squire by himself. He did not know what it meant +to have a young wife who was bored in the country. + +While Slimak put his trust in the squire's unruffled manner, +cogitations were going on at the inn under the guidance of Josel, the +publican. + +One morning, half-way through January, old Sobieska burst into the +cottage. Although the winter sun had not yet begun to look round the +world, the old woman was flushed, and her eyes looked bloodshot. Her +lean chest was insufficiently covered by a sheepskin as old as herself +and a torn chemise. + +'Here!...give me some vodka and I'll give you a little bit of news,' +she called out. Slimak was just going off to thresh, but he sat down +again and asked his wife to bring the vodka, for he knew that the old +woman usually knew what she was talking about. + +She drank a large glassful, stamped her foot, gurgled 'Oo-ah!', wiped +her mouth and said: 'I say! the squire is going to sell everything.' + +The thought of his field crossed Slimak's mind and made his blood run +cold, but he answered calmly: 'Gossip!' + +'Gossip?' the old woman hiccoughed, 'I tell you, it's gospel truth, and +I'll tell you more: the richer gospodarze are settling with Josel and +Gryb to buy the whole estate and the whole village from the squire, so +help me God!' + +'How can they settle that without me?' + +'Because they want to keep you out. They say you will be better off as +it is, because you will be nearer to the station, and that you have +already made a lot of money by spoiling other people's business.' + +She drained another glass and would have said more, but was suddenly +overcome, and had to be carried out of the room by Slimak. + +He and his wife consulted for the rest of the day what would be the +best thing to do under the circumstances. Towards evening he put on his +new sukmana lined with sheepskin and went to the inn. + +Gryb and Lukasiak were sitting at the table. By the light of the two +tallow candles they looked like two huge boundary-stones in their grey +clothes. Josel stood behind the bar in a dirty jersey with black +stripes. He had a sharp nose, pointed beard, pointed curls, and wore a +peaked cap; there was something pointed also in his look. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak. + +'In Eternity,' Josel answered indifferently. + +'What are the gospodarze drinking?' + +'Tea,' the innkeeper replied. + +'Then I will have tea too, but let it be as black as pitch, and with +plenty of arrac.' + +'Have you come to drink tea with us?' Josel taunted him. + +'No,' said Slimak, slowly sitting down, 'I've come to find out....' + +'What old Sobieska meant,' finished the innkeeper in an undertone. + +'How about this business? is it true that you are buying land from the +squire?' asked Slimak. + +The two gospodarze exchanged glances with Josel, who smiled. After a +pause Lukasiak replied: + +'Oh, we are talking of it for want of something better to do, but who +would have the money for such a big undertaking?' + +'You two between you could buy it!' + +'Perhaps we may, but it would be for ourselves and those living in the +village.' + +'What about me?' + +'You don't take us into your confidence about your business affairs, so +mind you keep out of ours.' + +'It's not only your affair, but concerns the whole village.' + +'No, it's nobody's but mine,' snapped Gryb. + +'It's mine just as much.' + +'That is not so!' Gryb struck the table with his fist: if I don't like +a man, he shan't buy, and there's an end of it.' + +The publican smiled. Seeing that Slimak was getting pale with anger, +Lukasiak took Gryb by the arm. + +'Let us go home, neighbour,' he said. 'What is the good of talking +about things that may never come off? Come along.' + +Gryb looked at Josel and got up. + +'So you are going to buy without me?' asked Slimak. + +'You bought without us last summer.' They shook hands with the +innkeeper and took no notice of Slimak. + +Josel looked after them until their footsteps could no longer be heard, +then, still smiling, he turned to Slimak. + +'Do you see now, gospodarz, that it is a bad thing to take the bread +out of a Jew's mouth? I have lost fifty roubles through you and you +have made twenty-five, but you have bought a hundred roubles' worth of +trouble, for the whole village is against you.' + +'They really mean to buy the squire's land without me?' + +'Why shouldn't they? What do they care about your loss if they can +gain?' + +'Well...well,' muttered the peasant sadly. + +'I,' said Josel, 'might perhaps be able to arrange the affair for you, +but what should I gain by it? You have never been well disposed towards +me, and you have already done me harm.' + +'So you won't arrange it?' + +'I might, but on my own terms.' + +'What are they?' + +'First of all you will give me back the fifty roubles. Secondly, you +will build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He will keep horses and drive people to and from the station.' + +'And what am I to do with my horses?' + +'You have your land.' + +The gospodarz got up. 'Aren't you going to give me any tea?' + +'I haven't any in the house.' + +'Very well; I won't pay you fifty roubles, and I won't build a cottage +for your brother-in-law.' + +'Do as you please.' Slimak left the inn, banging the door. + +Josel turned his pointed nose and beard in his direction and smiled. + +In the darkness Slimak collided with a labourer from the manor who +carried a sack of corn on his back; presently he saw one of the servant +girls hiding a goose under her sheepskin. When she recognized him she +ran behind the fence. But Josel continued to smile. He smiled, when he +paid the labourer a rouble for the corn, including the sack; he smiled, +when the girl handed over the goose and got a bottle of sour beer in +return; he smiled, when he listened to the gospodarze discussing the +purchase of the land, and he smiled when he paid old Gryb two roubles +per cent., and took two roubles from young Gryb for every ten he lent +him. His smile no more came off his face than his dirty jersey came off +his back. + +The fire was out and the children were asleep when Slimak returned +home. + +'Well?' asked his wife, while he was undressing in the dark. + +'This is a trick of Josel's. He drives the others like a team of oxen.' + +'They won't let you in?' + +'They won't, but I shall go to the squire about the field.' + +'When are you going?' + +'To-morrow, else it may be too late.' + +To-morrow came; the day after came and went; a week passed, but Slimak +had not yet done anything. One day he said he must thresh for a corn +dealer, the other day that he had a pain inside. + +As a matter of fact, he neither threshed nor had a pain inside; but +something held him back which peasants call being afraid, gentlemen +slackness, and scholars inertia. + +He ate little, wandered round aimlessly, and often stood still in the +snow-covered field by the river, struggling with himself. Reason told +him that he ought to go to the manor and settle the matter, but another +power held him fast and whispered: 'Don't hurry, wait another day, it +will all come right somehow.' + +'Josef, why don't you go to the squire?' his wife asked day after day. + +One evening old Sobieska turned up again. She was suffering from +rheumatism, and required treatment with a 'thimbleful' of vodka which +loosened her tongue. + +'It was like this,' she began: 'Gryb and Lukasiak went with Grochowski, +all three dressed as for a Corpus Christi procession. The squire +received them in the bailiff's office, and Gryb cleared his throat and +went for it. "We have heard, sir, that you are going to sell your +family estate. Every man has a right to sell, and the other to buy. But +it would be a pity to allow the land which your forefathers possessed, +and which we peasants have cultivated, to fall into the hands of +strangers who have no associations with old times. Therefore, sir, sell +the land to us." I tell you,'Sobieska continued, 'he talked for an +hour, like the priest in the pulpit; at last Lukasiak got stiff in the +back,[1] and they all burst out crying. Then they embraced the squire's +feet, and he took their heads between his hands[2] and...' + +[Footnote 1: The peasants would stand bent all the time.] + +[Footnote 2: A nobleman, in order to show goodwill to his subordinates, +slightly presses their heads between his hands.] + +'Well, and are they buying?' Slimak interrupted impatiently. + +'Why shouldn't they buy? Certainly they are buying. They are not yet +quite agreed as to the price, for the squire wants a hundred roubles an +acre, and the peasants are offering fifty; but they cried so much, and +talked so long about good feeling between peasants and landowners that +the gospodarze will add another ten, and the squire will let them off +the rest. Josel has told them to give that much and no more, and not to +be in a hurry, then they'll be sure to drive a good bargain. He's a +damned clever Jew! Since he has taken the matter in hand, people have +flocked to the inn as if the Holy Mother were working miracles there.' + +'Is he still setting the others against me?' + +'He is not actually setting them against you, but he puts in a word now +and then that you can no longer count as a gospodarz, since you have +taken to trading. The others are even more angry with you than he is; +they can't forget that you sold chickens at just double the price you +bought them for.' + +The result of this news was that Slimak set out for the manor-house +early the next day, and returned depressed in the afternoon. A large +bowl of sauerkraut presently made him willing to discourse. + +'It was like this: I arrive at the manor, and when I look up I see that +all the windows of the large room on the ground floor are wide open. +God forbid! has some one died? I think to myself. I peep in and see +Mateus, the footman, in a white apron with brushes on his feet, skating +up and down like the boys on the ice. "The Lord be praised, Mateus, +what are you doing?" I say. "In Eternity, I am polishing the floor," +says he; "we are going to have a big dance here to-night." "Is the +squire up yet?" "He is up, but the tailor is with him; he is trying on +a Crakovian costume. My lady is going to be a gipsy." "I want him to +sell me that field," I say. Mateus says: "Don't be a fool! how can the +squire think of your field, when he is amusing himself making up as a +Crakovian." So I go away from the window and stand about near the +kitchen for a bit. They are bustling like anything, the fire is burning +like a forge, and the butter is hissing. Presently Ignaz, the kitchen +boy, comes out, covered with blood, as if he had been stuck. "Ignaz, +for God's sake, what have you been doing?" I ask. "I haven't been doing +anything; it's the cook, he's been boxing my ears with a dead duck." +"The Lord be praised it is not your blood. Tell me where I can find the +squire." "Wait here," he says, "they'll bring in the boar, and the +squire is sure to come and have a look at it." Ignaz runs off, and I +wait and wait, until the shivers run down my back. But still I wait.' + +'Well, and did you see the squire?' Slimakowa asked impatiently. + +'Of course I saw him.' + +'Did you speak to him?' + +'Rather!' + +'What did you settle?' + +'Well...ah...I told him I wanted to beg a favour of him about the +field, but he said, "Oh, leave me alone, I have no head for business +to-day."' + +'And when will you go again?' + +Slimak held up his hands: 'Perhaps to-morrow, or the day after, when +they have slept off their dance.' + +That same day Maciek drove a sledge to the forest, taking with him an +axe, a bite of food, and 'Silly Zoska's' daughter. The mother had never +asked after her, and Maciek had mothered the child; he fed her, took +her to the stable with him at night and to his work in the day-time. + +The child was so weak that it hardly ever uttered a sound. Every one, +especially Sobieska, had predicted her early death. + +'She won't last a week.'...'She'll die tomorrow.'...'She's as good as +gone already.' + +But she had lived through the week and longer, and even when she had +been taken for dead once, she opened her tired eyes to the world again. +Maciek paid no attention to these prognostications. 'Never fear,' he +said, 'nothing will happen to her.' He continued to feed her in the +cowshed after dark. + +'What makes you take trouble about that wretched child, Maciek?' +Slimakowa would say; 'if you talked to her about the Blessed Bible +itself she would take no notice; she's dreadfully stupid, I never saw +such a noodle in all my life.' + +'She doesn't talk, because she has sense,' said Maciek; 'when she +begins to talk she will be as wise as an old man.' + +That was because Maciek was in the habit of talking to her about his +work, whatever he might be doing, manuring, threshing, or patching his +clothes. + +To-day he was taking her with him to the forest, tied to the sledge, +and wrapt in the remnants of his old sheepskin and a shawl. Uphill and +downhill over the hummocks bumped the sledge, until they arrived on +level ground, where the slanting rays of the sun, endlessly reflected +from the snow-crystals, fell into their eyes. The child began to cry. + +Maciek turned her sideways, scolding: 'Now then, I told you to shut +your eyes! No man, and if he were the bishop himself, can look at the +sun; it's God's lantern. At daybreak the Lord Jesus takes it into his +hand and has a look round his gospodarstwo. In the winter, when the +frost is hard, he takes a short cut and sleeps longer. But he makes up +for it in the summer, and looks all over the world till eight o'clock +at night. That's why one should be astir from daybreak till sunset. But +you may sleep longer, little one, for you aren't much use yet. Woa!' +They entered the forest. 'Here we are! this is the forest, and it +belongs to the squire. Slimak has bought a cartload of wood, and we +must get it home before the roads are too bad. Steady, lads!' They +stopped by a square pile of wood. Maciek untied the child and put her +in a sheltered place, took out a bottle of milk and put it to her lips. +'Drink it and get strong, there will be some work for you. The logs are +heavy, and you must lift them into the sledge. You don't want the milk? +Naughty girl! Call out when you want it.... A little child like that +makes things cheerful for a man,' he reflected. 'Formerly there never +was any one to open one's mouth to, now one can talk all the time. Now +watch how the work should be done. Jendrek would pull the logs about, +and get tired in no time and stop. But mind you take them from the top, +carefully, and lift them into the sledge, one by one like this. Never +be in a hurry, little one, or else the damned wood will tire you out. +It doesn't want to go on to the sledge, for it has sense, and knows +what to expect. We all prefer our own corner of the world, even if it +is a bad one. But to you and me it's all the same, we have no corner of +our own; die here or die there, it makes no difference.' Now and then +he rested, or tucked the child up more closely. + +Meanwhile, the sky had reddened, and a strong north-west wind sprang +up, saturated with moisture. The forest, held in its winter sleep, +slowly began to move and to talk. The green pine needles trembled, then +the branches and boughs began to sway and beckon to each other. The +tops, and finally the stems rocked forward and backward, as if they +contemplated starting on a march. It was as if their eternal fixedness +grieved them, and they were setting out in a tumultuous crowd to the +ends of the world. Sometimes they became motionless near the sledge, as +though they did not wish to betray their secret to a human being. Then +the tramp of countless feet, the march past of whole columns of the +right wing, could be heard distinctly; they approached, and passed at a +distance. The left wing followed; the snow creaked under their +footsteps, they were already in a line with the sledge. The middle +column, emboldened, began to call in mighty whispers. Then they halted +angrily, stood still in their places and seemed to roar: 'Go away! go +away, and do not hinder us!' + +But Maciek was only a poor labourer, and though he was afraid of the +giants, and would gladly have made room for them, he could not leave +until he had loaded up his sledge. He did not rest now or rub his +frozen hands; he worked as fast as he could, so that the night and the +winter storms should not overtake him. + +The sky grew darker and darker with clouds; mists rose in the forests +and froze into fine crystals which instantly covered Maciek's sukmana, +the child's shawl, and the horses' manes with a crackling crust. The +logs became so slippery that his hands could scarcely hold them; the +ground was like glass. He looked anxiously towards the setting sun: it +was dangerous to return with a heavy load when the roads were in that +condition. He crossed himself, put the child into the sledge, and +whipped up the horses. Maciek stood in fear of many things, but most of +all he feared the overturning of a sledge or cart, and being crushed +underneath. + +When they were out of the wood the track became worse and worse. The +rough-hewn runners constantly sank into snow-drifts and the sledge +canted over, so that the poor man, trembling with fear and cold, had to +prop it up with all his strength. If his twisted foot gave way, there +was an end to him and the child. + +From time to time the horses stopped dead, and Maciek ceased shouting. +Then a great silence spread round him, only the distant roar of the +forest, the whistling of the wind, and the whimpering of the child +could be heard. + +'Woa!' he began again, and the horses tugged and slipped where they +stood, moved on a few steps, and stopped again. + +'To Thy protection we flee, Holy Mother of God!' he whispered, took his +axe and cut into the smooth road in front of the horses. + +It took him a long time to cover the short distance to the high road, +but when they got there, the horses refused to go on at all. The hill +in front of them was impassable. He sat down on the sledge, pondering +whether Slimak would come to his assistance, or leave him to his fate. +'He'll come for the horses; don't cry, little one, God won't forsake +us.' While he listened, it seemed to him as if the whistling of the +wind changed into the sound of bells. Was it his fancy? But the bells +never ceased; some were deep-toned and some high-toned; voices were +intermixed with them. They approached from behind like a swarm of bees +in the summer. + +'What can it be?' said Maciek, and stood up. + +Small flames shone in the distance. They disappeared among the juniper +bushes, and then flickered up again, now high, now low, coming nearer +and nearer, until a number of objects, running at full speed, could be +seen in the uncertain light of the flames. The tumult of voices +increased; Maciek heard the clattering of hoofs, the cracking of whips. + +'Heh! stop...there's a hill there!' + +'Look out! don't be crazy!' + +'Stop the sledge, I shall get out!' + +'No, go on!' + +'Jesus Mary!' + +'Have the musicians been spilt yet?' + +'Not yet, but they will be.' + +'Oh...la la!' + +Maciek now understood that this was a sleigh race. The teams of +two-and four-horsed sleighs approached at a gallop, accompanied by +riders on horseback carrying torches. In the thick mist it looked as if +the procession appeared out of an abyss through a circular gate of +fire. They bore straight down upon the spot where Maciek and his sledge +had come to a standstill. Suddenly the first one stopped. + +'Hey...what's that?' + +'Something is in the way.' + +'What is it?' + +'A peasant with a cartload of wood.' + +'Out of the way, dog. Throw him into the ditch!' + +'Shut up! We'd better move him on.' + +'That we will! We are going to move the peasant on. Out of your +sledges, gentlemen!' + +Before Maciek had recovered from his astonishment, he was surrounded by +masked men in rich costumes with plumed hats, swords, guitars, or +brooms. They seized his sledge and himself, pushed them to the top of +the hill and down the other side on to level ground. + +'Thank God!' thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this +way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows!' + +'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill,' some one shouted from +the distance. + +'Then let them get out and walk!' + +'The sledges had better not go down.' + +'Why not? Go on, Antoni!' + +'I don't advise it, sir.' + +'Then get off and be hanged! I'll drive myself!' + +Bells jingled violently, and a one-horse sledge passed Maciek like a +whirlwind. He crossed himself. + +'Drive on, Andrei!' + +'Stop, Count! It's too risky!' + +'Go on!' + +Another sledge flew past. + +'Bravo! Sporting fellow!' + +'Drive on, Jacent!' + +Two sledges were racing each other, a driver and a mask in each. The +mad race had made the road sufficiently safe for the other empty +sledges to pass with greater caution. + +'Now give your arm to the ladies! A polonaise! Musicians!' + +The outriders with torches posted themselves along the road, the +musicians tuned up, and couple after couple detached itself from the +darkness like an iridescent apparition. They hovered past to the +melancholy strains of the Oginski polonaise. + +Maciek took off his cap, drew the child from under the sheepskin and +stood beside his sledge. + +'Now look, you'll never see anything so beautiful again. Don't be +afraid!' + +An armoured and visored man passed. + +'Do you see that knight? Formerly people like that conquered half the +world, now there are none of them left.' + +A grey-bearded senator passed. + +'Look at him! People used to fear his judgment, but there are none like +him left! That one, as gaudy as a woodpecker, was a great nobleman +once; he did nothing but drink and dance; he could drain a barrel at a +bout, and he spent so much money that he had to sell his family estate, +poor wretch! There's a Uhlan; they used to fight for Napoleon and +conquer all the nations, but there are no fighters left in the world. +There's a chimney sweep and a peasant...but in reality they are all +gentlemen amusing themselves.' + +The procession passed; fainter and fainter grew the strains of the +Oginski polonaise; with shouts and laughter the masks got back into the +sleighs, hoofs clattered and whips cracked. + +Maciek started cautiously homeward in the wake of the jingling sleighs. +Distant flames were still twinkling ahead, and the wind carried faint +sounds of merriment back to him. Then all was silent. + +'Are they doing right?' he murmured, perturbed. + +For he recalled the portrait of the grey-headed senator in the choir of +the church; he had even prayed to it sometimes.... The bald-headed +nobleman was there too, whom the peasants called 'the cursed man', and +the knight in armour who was lying on his tomb beside the altar of the +Holy Martyr Apollonius. Then he remembered the friar who walked through +the Vistula, and Queen Jadwiga who had brought salt from Hungary. And +by the side of all these he saw his own old wise grandfather, Roch +Owczarz, who had been a soldier under Napoleon, and came home without a +penny, and in his old age became sacristan at the church, and explained +all the pictures to the gospodarze so beautifully that he earned more +money than the organist. + +'The Lord rest his soul eternally!' + +And now these noblemen were amusing themselves with sacred matters! +What would they do next?... + +Slimak met him when he was about a verst from the cottage. + +'We have been wondering if you had got stuck on the hill. Thank God you +are safe. Did you see the sleigh race?' + +'Oho!' said Maciek. + +'I wonder they did not smash you to pieces.' + +'Why should they? They even helped me up the hill.' + +'Dear me! And they didn't pull you about?' + +'They only pulled my cap over my ears.' + +'That is just like them; either they will smash you up, or else be +kindness itself, it just depends what temper they're in.' + +'But the way they drove down those hills made one's flesh creep. No +sober man would have come out of it alive.' + +Two sledges now overtook them; there was one traveller in the first and +two in the second. + +'Can you tell me where that sleigh party was driving to?' asked the +occupant of the first. + +'To the squire's.' + +'Indeed!... Do you know if Josel, the innkeeper, is at home?' + +'I dare say he is, unless he is off on some swindle or other.' + +'Do you know if your squire has sold his estate yet?' asked a guttural +voice from the second sledge. + +'You shouldn't ask him such a question, Fritz,' remonstrated his +companion. + +'Oh! the devil take the whole business!' replied Fritz. + +'Aha, here they are again!' said Slimak. + +'What do all those Old Testament Jews want?' asked Maciek. + +'There was only one Jew, the others are Germans from Wolka.' + +'The gentlefolks never have any peace; no sooner do they want to enjoy +themselves, than the Jews drive after them,' said Maciek. + +Indeed, the sledges conveying the travellers were now with difficulty +driving towards the valley, and presently stopped at Josel's inn. + +Barrels of burning pitch in front of the manor house threw a rosy glare +over the wintry landscape; distant sounds of music came floating on the +air. + +Josel came out and directed the Jew's sledge to the manor. The Germans +got out, and one of them shouted after the departing Jew: 'You will see +nothing will come of it; they are amusing themselves.' + +'Well, and what of that?' + +'A nobleman does not give up a dance for a business interview.' + +'Then he will sell without it.' + +'Or put you off.' + +'I have no time for that.' + +The facade of the manor-house glowed as in a bengal light; the +sleigh-bells were still tinkling in the yard, where the coachmen were +quarrelling over accommodation for their horses. Crowds of village +people were leaning against the railings to watch the dancers flit past +the windows, and to catch the strains of the music. Around all this +noise, brightness, and merriment lay the darkness of the winter night, +and from the winter night emerged slowly the sledge, carrying the +silent, meditating Jew. + +His modest conveyance stopped at the gate, and he dragged himself to +the kitchen entrance; his whole demeanour betrayed great mental and +physical tiredness. He tried to attract the attention of the cook, but +failed entirely; the kitchen-maid also turned her back on him. At last +he got hold of a boy who was hurrying across to the pantry, seized him +by the shoulders, and pressed a twenty kopek-piece into his hand. + +'You shall have another twenty kopeks if you will bring the footman.' + +'Does your honour know Mateus?' The boy scrutinized him sharply. + +'I do, bring him here.' + +Mateus appeared without delay. + +'Here is a rouble for you; ask your master if he will see me, and I +will double it.' The footman shook his head. + +'The master is sure to refuse.' + +'Tell him, it is Pan Hirschgold, on urgent business from my lady's +father. Here is another rouble, so that you do not forget the name.' + +Mateus quickly disappeared, but did not quickly return. The music +stopped, yet he did not return; a polka followed, yet he did not +return. At last he appeared: 'The master asks you to come to the +bailiff's office.' He took Pan Hirschgold into a room where several +camp-beds had been made up for the guests. The Jew took off his +expensive fur, sat down in an armchair by the fire and meditated. + +The polka had been finished, and a vigorous mazurka began. The tumult +and stamping increased from time to time; commands rang out, and were +followed by a noise which shook the house from top to bottom. The Jew +listened indifferently, and waited without impatience. + +Suddenly there was a great commotion in the passage; the door was +opened impetuously, and the squire entered. + +He was dressed as a Crakovian peasant in a red coat covered with +jingling ornaments, wide, pink-and-white-striped breeches, a red cap +with a peacock's feather, and iron-shod shoes. + +'How are you, Pan Hirschgold?' he cried good-humouredly, 'what is this +urgent message from my father-in-law?' + +'Read it, sir.' + +'What, now? I'm dancing a mazurka.' + +'And I am building a railway.' + +The squire bit his lip, and quickly ran his eye over the letter. The +noise of the dancers increased. + +'You want to buy my estate?' + +'Yes, and at once, sir.' + +'But you see that I am giving a dance.' + +'The colonists are waiting to come in, sir. If you cannot settle with +me before midnight, I shall settle with your neighbour. He gains, and +you lose.' + +The squire was becoming feverish. + +'My father-in-law recommends you highly...all the same,...on the spur +of the moment....' + +'You need only write a word or two.' + +The squire dashed his red cap down on the table. 'Really, Pan +Hirschgold, this is unbearable!' + +'It's not my fault; I should like to oblige you, but business is +pressing.' + +There was another hubbub in the passage, and the Uhlan burst into the +room, 'For heaven's sake, what are you doing, Wladek?' + +'Urgent business.' + +'But your lady is waiting for you!' + +'Do arrange for some one to take my place; I tell you, it's urgent.' + +'I don't know how the lady will take it!' cried the retreating Uhlan. + +The powerful bass voice of the leader of the mazurka rang out: 'Ladies' +ronde!' + +'How much will you give me?' hastily began the squire. 'Rather an +original situation!' he unexpectedly added, with humour. + +'Seventy-five roubles an acre. This is my highest offer. To-morrow I +should only give sixty-seven.' + +'En avant!' from the ball-room. + +'Never!' cried the squire, 'I should prefer to sell to the peasants.' + +'And get fifty, or at the outside sixty.' + +'Or go on managing the estate myself.' + +'You are doing that now...what is the result?' + +'What do you mean?' said the squire irritably, 'it's excellent +soil....' + +'I know all about the property,' interrupted the Jew, 'from the bailiff +who left at New Year.' + +The squire became angry. 'I can sell to the colonists myself.' + +'They may give sixty-seven, but meanwhile my lady is dying of boredom.' + +'Chaine to the left!' + +The squire became desperate. 'God, what am I to do?' + +'Sign the agreement. Your father-in-law advises you to do so, and tells +you that I shall pay the highest price.' + +'Partagez!' + +Again the Uhlan violently burst into the room. + +'Wladek, you really must come; the Count is mortally offended, and says +he will take his fiancee away.' + +'Oh, confound it! Pan Hirschgold, write the agreement at once, I will +be back directly.' + +Unmindful of the gaiety of the dance, the Jew calmly took an inkpot, +pen, and paper out of his bag, wrote a dozen lines, and sat down, +waiting for the noise to subside. + +A quarter of an hour later the squire returned in the best of spirits. + +'Ready?' he asked cheerfully. + +'Ready.' + +The squire read the paper, signed, and said with a smile: + +'What, do you think is the value of this agreement?' + +'Perhaps the legal value is not great, but it has some value for your +father-in-law, and he...well, he is a rich man!' + +He blew on the signature, folded up the paper, and asked with a shade +of irony: 'Well, and the Count?' + +'Oh, he is pacified.' + +'He will want more pacifying presently, when his creditors become +annoying. I wish you a pleasant night, sir.' + +No sooner had the squire left the room, than Mateus, the footman, +appeared, as if the ground had produced him. He helped the Jew into his +coat. + +'Did you buy the estate, sir?' + +'Why shouldn't I? It's not the first, nor will it be the last.' + +He gave the footman three roubles. Mateus bowed to the ground and +offered to call his sledge. + +'Oh no, thank you,' said the Jew, 'I have left my own sledge in Warsaw, +and I am not anxious to parade this wretched conveyance.' + +Nevertheless, Mateus attended him deferentially into the yard. + +In the ballroom polkas, valses, and mazurkas followed each other +endlessly until the pale dawn appeared, and the cottage fires were lit. + +Slimak rose with the winter sun, and whispering a prayer, walked out of +the gate. He looked at the sky, then towards the manor-house, wondering +how long the merrymaking was going to last. + +The sky was blue, the first sun rays were bathing the snow in rose +colour, and the clouds in purple. Slimak drew a deep breath, and felt +that it was better to be out in the fresh air than indoors, dancing. + +'Making themselves tired without need,' he thought, 'when they might be +sleeping to their hearts' content!' Then he resumed his prayer. His +attention was attracted by voices, and he saw two men in navy blue +overcoats. When they caught sight of him, one asked at once: + +'That is your hill, gospodarz, isn't it?' + +Slimak looked at them in surprise. + +'Why do you keep on asking me about my property? I told you last summer +that the hill was mine.' + +'Then sell it to us,' said the man with the beard. + +'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man. + +'Oh bother! are you going to gossip again, father?' + +'Look here, gospodarz,' said the father, 'we have bought the squire's +estate. Now we want this; hill, because we want to build a +windmill....' + +'Gracious!' exclaimed the son disagreeably, 'have you lost your senses, +father? Listen! we want that land!' + +'My land?' the peasant repeated in amazement, looking about him, 'my +land?' + +He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'What right have +you gentlemen to my land?' + +'We have got money.' + +'Money?...I!...Sell my land for money? We have been settled here from +father to son; we were here at the time of the scourge of serfdom, and +even then we used to call the land "ours". My father got it for his own +by decree from the Emperor Alexander II; the Land Commission settled +all that, and we have the proper documents with signatures attached. +How can you say now that you want to buy my land?' + +The younger man had turned away indifferently during Slimak's long +speech and whistled, the older man shook his fist impatiently. + +'But we want to buy it...pay for it...cash! Sixty roubles an acre.' + +'And I wouldn't sell it for a hundred,' said Slimak. + +'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out +laughing. + +'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand +that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?' + +'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we +should pay you.' + +'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it +yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed. + +'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you +from morning till night.' + +The old man took Slimak's hand. + +'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not +like heathens. We praise the same God, why should we not agree? You +see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to +have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow +steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age. +That hill is nothing to you.' + +'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.' + +'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.' + +'Well, and I won't sell it!' + +The old man made a wry face, as if he were ready to cry. He drew the +peasant a few steps aside, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: +'Why are you so hard on me, gospodarz? You see, my sons don't hit it +off with each other. The elder is a farmer, and I want to set up the +younger as a miller and have him near me. I haven't long to live, I am +eighty years old, don't quarrel with me.' + +'Can't you buy land elsewhere?' + +'Not very well. We are a whole community settling together; it would +take a long time to make other arrangements. My son Wilhelm does not +like farming, and unless I buy him a windmill he will starve or go away +from me. I am an old man, sell me your land! Listen,' he whispered, 'I +will give you seventy-five roubles an acre. God is my witness, I am +offering you more than the land is worth. But you will let me have it, +won't you? You are an honest man and a Christian.' + +Slimak looked with astonishment and pity at the old man, from whose +inflamed eyes the tears were pouring down. + +'You can't have much sense, sir, to ask me such a thing,' he said. +'Would you ask a man to cut off his hand? What could a peasant do +without his land?' + +'You could buy twice as much. I will help you to find it.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are talking as a man talks when he digs up +a shrub in the woods. "Come," he says, "you shall be near my cottage!" +The shrub comes because it must, but it soon dies.' + +The man with the beard approached and spoke to his father in German. + +'So you won't sell me your land?' said the old man. + +'I won't.' + +'Not for seventy-five roubles?' + +'No.' + +'And I tell you, you will sell it,' cried the younger man, drawing his +father away. They went towards the bridge, talking German loudly. + +The peasant rested his chin on his hand and looked after them; then his +eyes fell on the manor-house, and he returned to the cottage at full +speed. 'Jagna,' he cried, 'do you know that the squire has sold his +estate?' The gospodyni crossed herself with a spoon. + +'In the name of the Father...Are you mad, Josef? Who told you so?' + +'Two Germans spoke to me just now; they told me. And, Jagna, they want +to buy our land, our own land!' + +'You are off your head altogether!' cried the woman. 'Jendrek, go and +see if there are any Germans about; your father is talking nonsense.' + +Jendrek returned with the information that he had seen two men in blue +overcoats the other side of the bridge. + +Slimak sat on the bench, his head drooping, his hands resting limply on +his knees. The morning light had turned grey, and made men and objects +look dull. The gospodyni suddenly looked attentively at her husband. + +'Why are you so pale?' she asked. 'What is the matter?' + +'What is the matter? A nice question for a clever woman to ask! Don't +you understand that the Germans will take the field away from us if the +squire has sold it to them?' + +'Why should they? We could pay the rent to them.' + +The woman tried to talk confidently, but her voice was unsteady. + +'You don't know what you're talking about! Germans keep cattle and are +sharp after grazing land. Besides, they will want to get rid of me.' + +'We shall see who gets rid of whom!' Slimakowa said sharply. + +She came and stood in front of her husband, with her arms akimbo, +gradually raising her voice. + +'Lord, what a man! He has only just looked at the Swabian[1] vermin, +and he has lost heart already. They will take away the field? Well, +what of that? we will drive the cattle into it all the same.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish peasants call all Germans 'Swabians'.] + +'They will shoot the cattle.' + +'That isn't allowed.' + +'Then they will go to law and worry the life out of me.' + +'Very well, then we will buy fodder.' + +'Where? The gospodarze won't sell us any, and we shan't get a blade +from the Germans.' + +The breakfast was boiling over, but the housewife paid no attention to +it. She shook her clenched fists at her husband. + +'What do you mean, Josef! Pull yourself together! This is bad, and that +is no good!...What will you do then? You are taking the courage away +from me, a woman, instead of making up your mind what to do. Aren't you +ashamed before the children and Magda to sit there like a dying man, +rolling your eyes? Do you think I shall let the children starve for the +sake of your Germans, or do you think I shall get rid of the cow? Don't +imagine that I shall allow you to sell your land! No fear! If I fall +down dead and they bury me, I shall dig myself out again and prevent +you from doing the children harm! Why are you sitting there, looking at +me like a sheep? Eat your breakfast and go to the manor. Find out if +the squire has really sold his land, and if he hasn't, fall at his +feet, and lie there till he lets you have the field, even if you have +to pay sixty roubles.' + +'And if he has sold it?' + +'If he has sold it, may God punish him!' + +'That won't give us the field.' + +'You are a fool!' she cried. 'We and the children and the cattle have +lived by God's grace and not by the squire's.' + +'That's so,' said Slimak, suddenly getting up. 'Give me my breakfast. +What are you crying for?' + +After her passionate outburst Slimakowa had actually broken down. + +'How am I not to cry,' she sobbed, 'when the merciful God has punished +me with such an idiot of a husband? He will do nothing himself and +takes away my courage into the bargain.' + +'Don't be a fool,' he said, with his face clouding. 'I'll go to the +squire at once, even if I should have to give sixty roubles.' + +'But if the field is sold?' + +'Hang him, we have lived by the grace of God and not by his.' + +'Then where will you get fodder?' + +'Look after your pots and pans, and don't meddle with a man's affairs.' + +'The Germans will drive you away.' + +'The deuce they will!' He struck the table with his fist. 'If I were to +fall down dead, if they chopped me into little pieces, I wouldn't let +the dogs have my land. Give me my breakfast, or I'll ask you the reason +why!...And you, Jendrek, be off with Maciek, or I shall get the strap!' + +The sun shone into the ballroom of the manorhouse through every chink +and opening; streaks of white light lay on the floor, which was dented +by the dancers' heels, and on the walls; the rays were reflected in the +mirrors, rested on the gilt cornices and on the polished furniture. In +comparison with them the light of the candles and lamps looked yellow +and turbid. The ladies were pale and had blue circles round their eyes, +the powder was falling from their dishevelled hair, their dresses were +crumpled, and here and there in holes. The padding showed under the +imitation gold of the braids and belts of notables; rich velvets had +turned into cheap velveteens, beaver fur to rabbit skins, and silver +armour to tin. The musicians' hands dropped, the dancers' legs had +grown stiff. Intoxication had cooled and given place to heaviness; lips +were breathing feverishly. Only three couples were now turning in the +middle of the room, then two, then none. There was a lack of arm-chairs +for the men; the ladies hid their yawns behind their fans. At last the +music ceased, and as no one said anything, a dead silence spread +through the room. Candles began to splutter and went out, lamps smoked. + +'Shall we go in to tea?' asked the squire, in a hoarse voice. + +'To bed...to bed,' whispered the guests. + +'The bedrooms are ready,' he said, trying to sound cheerful, in spite +of sleepiness and a cold. + +The ladies immediately got up, threw their wraps over their shoulders +and left the room, turning their faces away from the windows. + +Soon the ballroom was empty, save for the old cellist, who had gone to +sleep with his arms round his instrument. The bustle was transferred to +distant rooms; there was much stamping upstairs and noise of men's +voices in the courtyard. Then all became silent. + +The squire came clinking along the passages, looked dully round the +ballroom, and said, yawning: 'Put out the lights, Mateus, and open the +windows. Where is my lady?' + +'My lady has gone to her room.' + +My lady, in her orange-velvet gipsy costume and a diamond hoop in her +hair, was lying in an arm-chair, her head thrown back. The squire +dropped into another arm-chair, yawning broadly. + +'Well, it was a great success.' + +'Splendid,' yawned my lady. + +'Our guests ought to be satisfied.' After a while he spoke again. + +'Do you know that I have sold the estate?' + +'To whom?' + +'To Hirschgold; he is giving me seventy-five roubles an acre.' + +'Thank God we shall get away at last.' + +'Well, you might come and give me a kiss!' + +'I'm much too tired. Come here, if you want one.' + +'I deserve that you should come here. I've done exceedingly well.' + +'No, I won't. Hirschgold...Hirschgold...oh yes, some acquaintance of +father's. The first mazurka was splendid, wasn't it?' + +The squire was snoring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The squire and his wife left for Warsaw a week after the ball. Their +place was taken by Hirschgold's agent, a freckle-faced Jew, who +installed himself in a small room in the bailiffs house, spent his days +in looking through and sending out accounts, and bolted the door and +slept with two revolvers under his pillow at night. + +The squire had taken part of the furniture with him, the rest of the +suites and fixtures were sold to the neighbouring gentry; the Jews +bought up the library by the pound, the priest acquired the American +organ, the garden-seats passed into Gryb's ownership, and for three +roubles the peasant Orzchewski became possessed of the large engraving +of Leda and the Swan, to which the purchaser and his family said their +prayers. The inlaid floors henceforward decorated the magisterial +court, and the damask hangings were bought by the tailors and made into +bodices for the village girls. + +When Slimak went a few weeks later to have a look at the manor-house he +could not believe his eyes at the sight of the destruction that had +taken place. There were no panes in the windows and not a single latch +left on the wide-open doors; the walls had been stripped and the floors +taken up. The drawing-room was a dungheap, Pani Joselawa, the +innkeeper's wife, had put up hencoops there and in the adjoining rooms; +axes and saws were lying about everywhere. The farmhands, who according +to agreement were kept on till midsummer, strolled idly from corner to +corner; one of the teamdrivers had taken desperately to drink; the +housekeeper was ill with fever, and the pantryboy, as well as one of +the farm-boys, were in prison for stealing latches off the doors. + +'Good God!' said the peasant. + +He was seized with fear at the thought of the unknown power which had +ruined the ancient manor-house in a moment. An invisible cloud seemed +to be hanging over the valley and the village; the first flash of +lightning had struck and completely shattered the seat of its owners. + +Some days later the neighbourhood began to swarm with strangers, +woodcutters and sawyers, mostly Germans. They walked and drove in +crowds along the road past Slimak's cottage; sometimes they marched in +detachments like soldiers. They were quartered at the manor, where they +turned out the servants and the remaining cattle: they occupied every +corner. At night they lit great fires in the courtyard, and in the +morning they all walked off to the woods. At first it was difficult to +guess what they were doing. Soon, however, there was a distant echo as +of someone drumming with his fingers on the table; at last the sound of +the axe and the thud of falling trees was heard quite plainly. Fresh +inroads on the wavy contour of the forest appeared continually; first +crevices, then windows, then wide openings, and for the first time +since the world was the world, the astonished sky looked into the +valley from that side. + +The wood fell: only the sky remained and the earth with a few juniper +bushes and countless rows of tree-trunks, hastily stripped of their +branches. The rapacious axe had not spared one of the leafy tribe. Not +one--not even the centenarian oak which had been touched by lightning +more than once. Gazing upwards, this defier of storms had hardly +noticed the worms turning round its feet, and the blows of their axes +meant no more to it than the tapping of the woodpecker. It fell +suddenly, convinced at the last that the world was insecure after all, +and not worth living in. + +There was another oak, half withered, on the branches of which the +unfortunate Simon Golamb[1] had hanged himself; the people passed it in +fear. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling: _Gotab_.] + +'Flee!' it murmured, when the woodcutters approached. 'I bring you +death; only one man dared to touch my branches, and he died.' But the +woodcutters paid no heed, deeper and deeper they sent the sharp axe +into its heart, and with a roar it swayed and fell. + +The night-wind moaned over the corpses of the strong trees, and the +birds and wild creatures, deprived of their native habitations, +mourned. + +Older still than the oaks were the huge boulders thickly sown over the +fields. The peasants had never touched them; they were too heavy to be +removed; moreover, there was a superstition that the rebellious devils +had in the first days of the creation thrown these stones at the +angels, and that it was unlucky to touch them. Overgrown with moss they +each lay in an island of green grass; the shepherds lit their fires +beneath them on chilly nights, the ploughmen lay down in their shade on +a hot afternoon, the hawker would sometimes hide his treasures +underneath them. + +Now their last hour had struck too; men began to busy themselves about +them. At first the village people thought that the 'Swabians' were +looking for treasure; but Jendrek found out that they were boring holes +in the venerable stones. + +'What are the idiots doing that for?' asked Slimakowa. 'Blessed if I +know what's the good of that to them!' + +'I know, neighbour,' said old Sobieska, blinking her eyes; 'they are +boring because they have heard that there are toads inside those big +stones.' + +'And what if there are?' + +'You see, they want to know if it's true.' + +'But what's that to them?' + +'I'll be hanged if I know!' retorted Sobieska in such a decided tone +that Slimakowa considered the matter as settled. + +The Germans, however, were not looking for toads. Before long such a +cannonading began that the echoes reached the farthest ends of the +valley, telling every one that not even the rocks were able to +withstand the Germans. + +'Those Swabians are a hard race,' muttered Slimak, as he gazed on the +giants that had been dashed to pieces. He thought of the colonists for +whom the property had been bought, and who now wanted his land as well. + +'They are not anywhere about,' he thought; 'perhaps they won't come +after all.' + +But they came. + +One morning, early in April, Slimak went out before sunrise as usual to +say his prayers in the open. The east was flushed with pink, the stars +were paling, only the morning star shone like a jewel, and was welcomed +from below by the awakening birds. + +The peasant's lips moved in prayer, while he fixed his eyes on the +white mist which covered the ground like snow. Then it was that he +heard a distant sound from beyond the hills, a rumble of carts and the +voices of many people. He quickly walked up the lonely pine hill and +perceived a long procession of carts covered with awnings, filled with +human beings and their domestic and agricultural implements. Men in +navy-blue coats and straw hats were walking beside them, cows were tied +behind, and small herds of pigs were scrambling in and out of the +procession. A little cart, scarcely larger than a child's, brought up +the rear; it was drawn by a dog and a woman, and conveyed a man whose +feet were dangling down in front. + +'The Swabians are coming!' flashed through Slimak's mind, but he put +the thought away from him. + +'Maybe they are gipsies,' he argued. But no--they were not dressed like +gipsies, and woodcutters don't take cattle about with them--then who +were they? + +He shrank from the thought that the colonists were actually coming. + +'Maybe it's they, maybe not...' he whispered. + +For a moment a hill concealed them from his view, and he hoped that the +vision had dissolved into the light of day. But there they were again, +and each step of their lean horses brought them nearer. The sun was +gilding the hill which they were ascending, and the larks were singing +brightly to welcome them. + +Across the valley the church bell was ringing. Was it calling to +prayers as usual, or did it warn the people of the invasion of a +foreign power? + +Slimak looked towards the village. The cottage-doors were closed, no +one was astir, and even if he had shouted aloud, 'Look, gospodarze, the +Germans are here!' no one would have been alarmed. + +The string of noisy people now began to file past Slimak's cottage. The +tired horses were walking slowly, the cows could scarcely lift their +feet, the pigs squeaked and stumbled. But the people were happy, +laughing and shouting from cart to cart. They turned round by the +bridge on to the open ground. + +The small cart in the rear had now reached Slimak's gate; the big dog +fell down panting, the man raised himself to a sitting position and the +girl took the strap from her shoulder and wiped her perspiring +forehead. Slimak was seized with pity for them; he came down from the +hill and approached the travellers. + +'Where do you all come from? Who are you?' he asked. + +'We are colonists from beyond the Vistula,' the girl answered. 'Our +people have bought land here, and we have come with them.' + +'But have not you bought land also?' + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +'Is it the custom with you for the women to drag the men about?' + +'What can we do? we have no horses and my father cannot walk on his own +feet.' + +'Is your father lame?' + +'Yes.' + +The peasant reflected for a moment. + +'Then he is hanging on to the others, as it were?' + +'Oh no,' replied the girl with much spirit, 'father teaches the +children and I take in sewing, and when there is no sewing to do I work +in the fields.' + +Slimak looked at her with surprise and said, after a pause: 'You can't +be German, you talk our language very well.' + +'We are from Germany.' + +'Yes, we are Germans,' said the man in the cart, speaking for the first +time. + +Slimakowa and Jendrek now came out of the cottage and joined the group +at the gate. + +'What a strong dog!' cried Jendrek. + +'Look here,' said Slimak, 'this lady has dragged her lame father a long +way in the cart; would you do that, you scamp?' + +'Why should I? Haven't they any horses, dad?' + +'We have had horses,' murmured the man in the cart, 'but we haven't any +now.' + +He was pale and thin, with red hair and beard. + +'Wouldn't you like to rest and have something to eat after your long +journey?' inquired Slimak. + +'I don't want anything to eat, but my father would like some milk.' + +'Run and get some milk, Jendrek,' cried Slimak. + +'Meaning no offence,' said Slimakowa, 'but you Germans can't have a +country of your own, or else you wouldn't come here.' + +'This is our home,' the girl replied. 'I was born in this country, the +other side of the Vistula.' + +Her father made an impatient movement and said in a broken voice: 'We +Germans have a country of our own, larger than yours, but it's not +pleasant to live in: too many people, too little land; it's difficult +to make a living, and we have to pay heavy taxes and do hard military +service, and there are penalties for everything.' + +He coughed and continued after a pause: 'Everybody wants to be +comfortable and live as he pleases, and not as others tell him. It's +not pleasant to live in our country, so we've come here.' + +Jendrek brought the milk and offered it to the girl, who gave it to her +father. + +'God repay you!' sighed the invalid; 'the people in this country are +kind.' + +'I wish you would not do us harm,' said Slimakowa in a half-whisper. + +'Why should we do you harm?' said the man. 'Do we take your land? do we +steal? do we murder you? We are quiet people, we get in nobody's way so +long as nobody gets...' + +'You have bought the land here,' Slimak interrupted. + +'But why did your squire sell it to us? If thirty peasants had been +settled here instead of one man, who did nothing but squander his +money, our people would not have come. Why did not you yourselves form +a community and buy the village? Your money would have been as good as +ours. You have been settled here for ages, but the colonists had to +come in before you troubled about the land, and then no sooner have +they bought it than they become a stumbling-block to you! Why wasn't +the squire a stumbling-block to you?' + +Breathless, he paused and looked at his wasted arms, then continued: +'To whom is it that the colonists resell their land? To you peasants! +On the other side of the Vistula[1] the peasants bought up every scrap +of our land.' + +[Footnote 1: i.e. in Prussian Poland. One of the Polish people's +grievances is that the large properties are not sold direct to them but +to the colonists, and the peasants have to buy the land from them. +Statistics show that in spite of the great activity of the German +Colonization Commission more and more land is constantly acquired by +the Polish peasants, who hold on to the land tenaciously.] + +'One of your lot is always after me to sell him my land,' said Slimak. + +'To think of such a thing!' interposed his wife. 'Who is he?' + +'How should I know? there are two of them, and they came twice, an old +man and one with a beard. They want my hill to put up a windmill, they +say.' + +'That's Hamer,' said the girl under her breath to her father. + +'Oh, Hamer,' repeated the invalid, 'he has caused us difficulties +enough. Our people wanted to go to the other side of the Bug, where +land only costs thirty roubles an acre, but he persuaded them to come +here, because they are building a railway across the valley. So our +people have been buying land here at seventy roubles an acre and have +been running into debt with the Jew, and we shall see what comes of +it.' + +The girl meanwhile had been eating coarse bread, sharing it with the +dog. She now looked across to where the colonists were spreading +themselves over the fields. + +'We must go, father,' she said. + +'Yes, we must go; what do I owe you for the milk, gospodarz?' + +The peasant shrugged his shoulders. + +'If we were obliged to take money for a little thing like that, I +shouldn't have asked you.' + +'Well, God repay you!' + +'God speed you,' said Slimak and his wife. + +'Strange folk, those Germans,' he said, when they had slowly moved off. +'He is a clever man, yet he goes about in that little cart like an old +beggar.' + +'And the girl!' said Slimakowa, 'whoever heard of dragging an old man +about, as if you were a horse.' + +'They're not bad,' said Slimak, returning to his cottage. + +The conversation with the Germans had reassured him that they were not +as terrible as he had fancied. + +When Maciek went out after breakfast to plough the potato-fields, +Slimak slipped off. + +'You've got to put up the fence!' his wife called out after him. + +'That won't run away,' he answered, and banged the door, fearful lest +his wife should detain him. + +He crouched as he ran through the yard, wishing to attract her +attention as little as possible, and went stealthily up the hill to +where Maciek was perspiring over his ploughing. + +'How about those Swabians?' asked the labourer. + +Slimak sat down on the slope so that he could not be seen from the +cottage, and pulled out his pipe. + +'You might sit over there,' Maciek said, pointing with his whip to a +raised place; 'then I could smell the smoke.' + +'What's the good of the smoke to you? I'll give you my pipe to finish, +and meanwhile it does not grieve the old woman to see me sitting here +wasting my time.' He lit his pipe very deliberately, rested his elbows +on his knees and his head in his hands and looked into the valley, +watching the crowd of Germans. + +With their covered carts they had enclosed a square into which they had +driven their cattle and horses; inside and outside of this the people +were bustling about. Some put a portable manger on a stand and fed the +cows, others ran to the river with buckets. The women brought out their +saucepans and little sacks of vegetables and a crowd of children ran +down the ravine for fuel. + +'What crowds of children they have!' said Slimak; 'we have not as many +in the whole village.' + +'Thick as lice,' said Maciek. + +Slimak could not wonder enough. Yesterday the field had been empty and +quiet, to-day it was like a fair. People by the river, people in the +ravines, people on the fields, who chop the bushes, carry wood, make +fires, feed and water the animals! One man had already opened a +retail-shop on a cart and was obviously doing good business. The women +were pressing round him, buying salt, sugar, vinegar. Some young +mothers had made cradles of shawls, suspended on short pitchforks, and +while they were cooking with one hand they rocked the cradle with the +other. There was a veterinary surgeon, too, who examined the foot of a +lame horse, and a barber was shaving an old Swabian on the step of his +cart. + +'Do you notice how quickly they work? It's farther for them to fetch +the firewood than for us, yet we take half the day over it and they do +it before you can say two prayers.' + +'Oh! oh!' said Maciek, who seemed to feel this remark as an aspersion. + +'But, then, they work together, 'continued Slimak; 'when our people go +out in a crowd every one attends to his own business, and rests when he +likes or gets into the way of the others. But these dogs work together +as if they were used to each other; if one of them were to lie down on +the ground the others would cram work into his hand and stand over him +till he had finished it. Watch them yourself.' + +He gave his pipe to Maciek and returned to the cottage. + +'They are quick folk, those Swabians,' he muttered, 'and clever!' +Within half an hour he had discovered the two secrets of modern work: +organization and speed. + +About noon two colonists came to the gospodarstwo and asked Slimak to +sell them butter and potatoes and hay. He let them have the former +without bargaining, but he refused the hay. + +'Let us at least have a cartload of straw,' they asked with their +foreign accent. + +'I won't. I haven't got any.' + +The men got angry. + +'That scoundrel Hamer is giving us no end of trouble,' one cried, +dashing his cap on the ground; 'he told us we should get fodder and +everything at the farms. We can't get any at the manor either; the Jews +from the inn are there and won't stir from the place.' + +Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two +Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists +rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating +wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in +their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order. + +The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and +attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had +finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last +they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and +departed cheerfully. + +'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we +come to terms yet?' + +'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to +us of his own accord!' + +'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set +on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after +the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't +stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same +and to smooth things over.' + +'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?' +returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take +your land away from you.... I can't make you out!' + +'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob +me.' + +'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.' + +'That's God's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but +when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the +woodpeckers on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The +squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the +Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree +is still the tree.' + +The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her +demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'. + +'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you +the news.' + +She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on +his finger. + +'Oh, Lord!' she cried, when she had drained it, 'this is the judgment +day for some people in the village! You see, Gryb and Orzchewski had +always taken for granted that the colonists wouldn't come, and they had +meant to drive a little bargain between them and keep some of the best +land and settle Jasiek Gryb on it like a nobleman, and he was to marry +Orzchewski's Paulinka. You know, she had learnt embroidery from the +squire's wife, and Jasiek had been doing work in the bailiff's office +and now goes about in an overcoat on high-days and holidays and...give +me another thimbleful, or I shall feel faint and can't talk.... +Meanwhile, as I told you, the colonists had paid down half the money to +the Jew, and here they are, that's certain! When Gryb hears of it, he +comes and abuses Josel! "You cur of a Jew, you Caiaphas, you have +crucified Christ and now you are cheating me! You told me the Germans +wouldn't pay up, and here they are!" Whereupon Josel says: "We don't +know yet whether they will stay!" At first Gryb wouldn't listen and +shouted and banged his fists on the table, but at last Josel drew him +off to his room with Orzchewski, and they made some arrangement among +themselves.' + +'He's a fool,' said Slimak; 'he wasn't cute enough to buy the land, he +won't be able to cope with the Germans.' + +'Not cute enough?' cried the old woman. 'Give me a thimbleful...Josel's +clever enough, anyway...and his brother-in-law is even better...they'll +deal with the Swabians...I know what I know...give me a +thimbleful...give me a thim...' She became incoherent. + +'What was that she was saying?' asked Slimakowa. + +'The usual things she says when she's tipsy. She is in service with +Josel, so she thinks him almighty.' + +When night came, Slimak again went to look at the camp. The people had +retired under their awnings, the cattle were lying down inside the +square, only the horses were grazing in the fields and ravines. At +times a flame from the camp fires flared up, or a horse neighed; from +hour to hour the call of a sleepy watchman was heard. + +Slimak returned and threw himself on his bed, but could find no rest. +The darkness deprived him of energy, and he thought with fear of the +Germans who were so many and he but one. Might they not attack him or +set his house on fire? + +About midnight a shot rang out, followed by another. He ran into the +back-yard and came upon the equally frightened Maciek. Shouts, curses, +and the clatter of horses' hoofs came from beyond the river. Gradually +the noise subsided. + +Slimak learned in the morning from the colonists that horse-thieves had +stolen in among the horses. + +The peasant was taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in +the neighbourhood. + +The news of the attack spread like wildfire and was improved upon in +every village. It was said that there was a gang of horse-stealers +about, who removed the horses to Prussia; that the Germans had fought +with them all night, and that some had been killed. + +At last these rumours reached the ears of the police-sergeant, who +harnessed his fat mare, put a small cask and some empty bags into his +cart, and drove off in pursuit of the thieves. + +The Germans treated him to smoked ham and excellent brandy, and Fritz +Hamer explained that they suspected two discharged manor-servants, Kuba +Sukiennik and Jasiek Eogacz, of stealing the horses. + +'They have been arrested before for stealing locks off the doors, but +had to be released because there were no witnesses,' said the sergeant. +'Which of the gentlemen shot at them? Has he a licence to carry +firearms?' + +Hamer, seeing that the question was becoming ticklish, led him aside +and explained things so satisfactorily to him that he soon drove off, +recommending that watch should be kept, and that the colonists should +not carry firearms. + +'I suppose your farm will soon be standing, sir?' he asked. + +'In a month's time,' replied Hamer. + +'Capital!...we must make a day of it!' + +He drove on to the manor-house, where Hirschgold's agent was so +delighted to see him that he brought out a bottle of Crimean wine. On +the topic of thieves, however, he had no explanation to offer. + +'When I heard them shooting I at once snatched up my revolvers, one in +each hand, and I didn't close my eyes all night.' + +'And have you a licence to carry firearms?' + +'Why shouldn't I?' + +'For two?' + +'Oh well, the second is broken; I only keep it for show.' + +'How many workmen do you employ?' + +'About a hundred.' + +'Are all their passports in order?' + +The agent gave him a most satisfactory account as to this in his own +way and the sergeant took leave. + +'Be careful, sir,' he recommended, 'once robbery begins in the village +it will be difficult to stop it. And in case of accident you will do +well to let me know first before you do anything.' He said this so +impressively that the agent henceforward took the two Jews from the +manor-house to sleep in the bailiff's cottage. + +Slimak's gospodarstwo was the sergeant's next destination. Slimakowa +was just pouring out the peeled-barley soup when the stout +administrator of the law entered. + +'The Lord be praised,' he said. 'What news?' + +'In Eternity. We are all right.' + +The sergeant looked round. + +'Is your husband at home?' + +'Where else should he be? Fetch your father, Jendrek.' + +'Beautiful barley; is it your own?' + +'Of course it is.' + +'You might give me a sackful. I'll pay you next time I come.' + +'I'll get the bag at once, sir.' + +'Perhaps you can sell me a chicken as well?' + +'We can.' + +'Mind it's tender, and put it under the box.' + +Slimak came in. 'Have you heard, gospodarz, who it was that tried to +steal the horses?' + +'How should I know?' + +'They say in the village that it was Sukiennik and Rogacz.' + +'I don't know about that. I have heard they cannot find work here, +because they have been in prison.' + +'Have you got any vodka? The dust makes one's throat dry.' + +Vodka and bread and cheese were brought. + +'You'd better be careful,' he said, when he departed, 'for they will +either rob you or suspect you.' + +'By God's grace no one has ever robbed me, and it will never happen.' + +The sergeant went to Josel, who received him enthusiastically. He +invited him into the parlour and assured him that all his licences were +in order. + +'There is no signboard at the gate.' + +'I'll put one up at once of whatever kind you like,' said the innkeeper +obsequiously, and ordered a bottle of porter. + +The sergeant now opened the question of the night-attack. + +'What night-attack?' jeered Josel. 'The Germans shot at one another and +then got frightened and made out that there was a gang of robbers +about. Such things don't happen here.' + +The sergeant wiped his moustache. 'All the same Sukiennik and Rogacz +have been after the horses.' + +Josel made a wry face. 'How could they, when they were in my house that +night.' + +'In your house?' + +'To be sure,' Josel answered carelessly. 'Gryb and Orzchewski both saw +them...dead drunk they were. What are they to do? they can't get +regular work, and what a man perchance earns in a day he likes to drink +away at night.' + +'They might have got out.' + +'They might, but the stable was locked and the key with the foreman.' +The conversation passed on to other topics. + +'Look after Sukiennik and Rogacz,' the sergeant said, on his departure, +when he and his mare had been sufficiently rested. + +'Am I their father, or are they in my service?' + +'They might rob you.' + +'Oh! I'll see to that all right!' + +The sergeant returned home, half asleep, half awake. Sukiennik and +Rogacz kept passing before his vision; they had their hands full of +locks and were surrounded by horses. Josel's smiling face was hovering +over them and now and then old Gryb and his son Jasiek jeered from +behind a cloud. He sat up...startled. But there was nothing near him +except the white hen under the box and the trees by the wayside. He +spat. + +'Bah...dreams!' he muttered. + +The peasants were relieved when day after day passed and there was no +sign of building in the camp. They jumped to the conclusion that either +the Germans had not been able to come to terms with Hirschgold, or had +quarrelled with the Hamers, or that they had lost heart because of the +horse-thieves. + +'Why, they haven't so much as measured out the ground!' cried +Orzchewski, and washed down the remark with a huge glass of beer. + +He had, however, not yet wiped his mouth when a cart pulled up at the +inn and the surveyor alighted. They knew him directly by his +moustaches, which were trimmed to the resemblance of eels, and by his +sloeberry-coloured nose. + +While Gryb and Orzchewski sorrowfully conducted each other home, they +comforted themselves with the thought that the surveyor might only be +spending the night in the village on his way elsewhere. + +'God grant it, I want to see that young scamp of a Jasiek settled and +married, and if I let him out of my sight he goes to the dogs +directly.' + +'My Paulinka is a match for him; she'll look after him!' + +'You don't know what you're talking of, neighbour; it will take the +three of us to look after him. Lately he hasn't spent a single night at +home, and sometimes I don't see him for a week.' + +The surveyor started work in the manor-fields the next morning, and for +several days was seen walking about with a crowd of Germans in +attendance on all his orders, carrying his poles, putting up a portable +table, providing him with an umbrella or a place in the shade where he +could take long pulls out of his wicker flask. The peasants stood +silently watching them. + +'I could measure as well as that if I drank as much as he does,' said +one of them. + +'Ah, but that is why he is a surveyor,' said another, 'because he has a +strong head.' + +No sooner had he departed than the Germans drove off and returned with +heavy cartloads of building materials. One fine day a small troop of +masons and carpenters appeared with their implements. A party of +colonists went out to meet them, followed by a large crowd of women and +children. They met at an appointed place, where refreshments and a +barrel of beer had been provided. + +Old Hamer, in a faded drill-jacket, Fritz in a black coat, and Wilhelm, +adorned with a scarlet waistcoat with red flowers, were busy welcoming +the guests; Wilhelm had charge of the barrel of beer. + +Maciek had noticed these preparations and gave the alarm, and all the +inhabitants of the gospodarstwo watched the proceedings with the +keenest interest. They saw old Hamer taking up a stake and driving it +into the ground with a wooden hammer. + +'Hoch!...Hoch!' shouted the workmen. Hamer bowed, took a second stake +and carried it northwards, accompanied by the crowd. The women and +children were headed by the schoolmaster in his little cart. He now +lifted his cap high into the air, and at this sign the whole crowd +started to sing Luther's hymn: + + 'A stronghold sure our God remains, + A shield and hope unfailing, + In need His help our freedom gains, + O'er all our fear prevailing; + Our old malignant foe + Would fain work us woe; + With craft and great might + He doth against us fight, + On earth is no one like him.' + +At the first note Slimak had taken off his cap, his wife crossed +herself, and Maciek stepped aside and knelt down. Stasiek, with +wide-open eyes, began to tremble, and Jendrek started running down the +hill, waded through the river, and headed at full speed for the camp. + +While Hamer was driving the stake into the ground the procession, +slowly coming up to him, continued: + + 'Our utmost might is all in vain, + We straight had been rejected, + But for us fights the perfect Man + By God Himself elected; + Ye ask: Who may He be? + The Lord Christ is He! + The God, by hosts ador'd, + Our great Incarnate Lord, + Who all His foes will vanquish.' + +Never had the peasants heard a hymn like this, so solemn, yet so +triumphant, they who only knew their plainsongs, which rose to heaven +like a great groan: 'Lord, we lay our guilt before Thine eyes.' + +A cry from Stasiek roused the parents from their reverie. + +'Mother...mother...they are singing!' stammered the child; his lips +became blue, and he fell to the ground. + +The frightened parents lifted him up and carried him into the cottage, +where he recovered when the singing ceased. They had always known that +the singing at church affected him very deeply, but they had never seen +him like this. + +Jendrek, meanwhile, although wet through and cold, stood riveted by the +spectacle he was watching. Why were these people walking and singing +like this? Surely, they wanted to drive away some evil power from their +future dwellings, and, not having incense or blessed chalk, they were +using stakes. Well, after all, a club of oakwood was better against the +devil than chalk! Or were they themselves bewitching the place? + +He was struck with the difference in the behaviour of the Germans. The +old men, women, and children were walking along solemnly, singing, but +the young fellows and the workmen stood in groups, smoking and +laughing. Once they made a noisy interruption when Wilhelm Hamer, who +presided at the beer-barrel, lifted up his glass. The young men shouted +'Hoch! hurrah!' Old Hamer looked round disapprovingly, and the +schoolmaster shook his fist. + +As the procession drew near, Jendrek heard a woman's voice above the +children's shrill trebles, Hamer's guttural bass and the old people's +nasal tones; it was clear, full, and inexpressively moving. It made his +heart tremble within him. The sounds shaped themselves in his +imagination to the picture of a beautiful weeping-willow. + +He knew that it must be the voice of the schoolmaster's daughter, whom +he had seen before. At that time the dog had engaged his attention more +than the girl, but now her voice took entire possession of the boy's +soul, to the exclusion of everything else he heard or saw. He, too, +wanted to sing, and began under his breath: + + 'The Lord is ris'n to-day. + The Lord Jesus Christ...' + +It seemed to fit in with the melody which the Germans were just +singing. + +He was roused from this state by the young men's voices; he caught +sight of the schoolmaster's daughter and unconsciously moved towards +her. But the young man soon brought him to his senses. They pulled his +hat over his ears, pushed him into the middle of the crowd, and, wet, +smeared with sand, looking more like a scarecrow than a boy, he was +passed from hand to hand like a ball. Suddenly his eyes met those of +the girl, and a wild spirit awoke in him. He kicked one young man over +with his bare legs, tore the shirt off another one's back, butted old +Hamer in the stomach, and then stood with clenched fists in the space +he had cleared, looking where he might break through. Most of the men +laughed at him, but some were for handling him roughly. Fortunately old +Hamer recognized him. + +'Why, youngster, what are you up to?' + +'They're bullying me,' he said, while the tears were rising in his +throat. + +'Don't you come from that cottage? What are you doing here?' + +'I wanted to listen to your singing, but those scoundrels...' + +He stopped suddenly when he saw the grey eyes of the schoolmaster's +daughter fixed on him. She offered him the glass of beer she had been +drinking from. + +'You are wet through,' she said. 'Take a good pull.' + +'I don't want it,' said the boy, and felt ashamed directly; it did not +seem well-mannered to speak rudely to one so beautiful. + +'I might get tipsy...' he cried, but drained the glass, looked at her +again and blushed so deeply that the girl smiled sadly as she looked at +him. + +At that moment violins and cellos struck up; Wilhelm Hamer came heavily +bounding along and took the girl away to dance. Her yearning eyes once +more rested on Jendrek's face. + +He felt that something strange was happening to him. A terrible anger +and sorrow gripped him by the throat; he wanted to throw himself on +Wilhelm and tear his flowered waistcoat off his back; at the same time +he wanted to cry aloud. Suddenly he turned to go. + +'Are you going?' asked the schoolmaster. 'Give my compliments to your +father.' + +'And you can tell him from me that I have rented the field by the river +from Midsummer Day,' Hamer called after him. + +'But dad rented it from the squire!' Hamer laughed...'The squire! We +are the squires now, and the field is mine.' + +As Jendrek neared the road he came upon a peasant, hidden behind a +bush, who had been watching. It was Gryb. + +'Be praised,' said Jendrek. + +'Who's praised at your place?' growled the old man; 'it must be the +devil and not the Lord, since you are taking up with the Germans.' + +'Who's taking up with them?' + +The peasant's eyes flashed and his dry skin quivered. + +'You're taking up with them!' he cried, shaking his fist, 'or perhaps I +didn't see you running off to them like a dog through the water to +cadge for a glass of beer, nor your father and mother on the hill +praying with the Swabians...praying to the devil! God has punished them +already, for something has fallen on Stasiek. There will be more to +come...you wait!' + +Jendrek slowly walked home, puzzled and sad. When he returned to the +cottage, he found Stasiek lying ill. He told his father what Gryb had +said. + +'He's an old fool,' replied Slimak. 'What! should a man stand like a +beast when others are praying, even if they are Swabians?' + +'But their praying has bewitched Stasiek.' Slimak looked gloomy. + +'Why should it have been their prayers? Stasiek is easily upset. Let a +woman but sing in the fields and he'll begin to shake all over.' + +The matter ended there. Jendrek tried to busy himself about the +cottage, but he felt stifled indoors. He roamed about in the ravines, +stood on the hill and watched the Germans, or forced his way through +brambles. Wherever he went, the image of the schoolmaster's daughter +went with him; he saw her tanned face, grey eyes, and graceful +movements. Sometimes her powerful, entrancing voice seemed to come to +him as from a depth. + +'Has she cast a spell over me?' he whispered, frightened, and continued +to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Slimak had never been so well off as he was that spring; money was +flowing into his chest while he took his leisure and looked around him +at all the new things. + +Formerly, after a heavy day, he had thrown himself on his bed and had +scarcely fallen asleep like a stone when his wife would pull the cover +off him, crying: 'Get up, Josef; it is morning.' + +'How can it be morning?' he thought; 'I've only just lain down.' All +the same he had to gather his bones together, when each one +individually held to the bed; willy-nilly he had to get up. So hard was +the resolution sometimes, that he even thought with pleasure of the +eternal sleep, when his wife would no longer stand over him and urge: +'Get up, wash...you'll be late; they'll take it off your wages.' + +Then he would dress, and drag the equally tired horses out of the +stable, so overcome with sleep that he would pause on the threshold and +mutter, 'I shall stay at home!' But he was afraid of his wife, and he +also knew very well that he could not make both ends meet at the +gospodarstwo without his wages. + +Now all that was different. He slept as long as he liked. Sometimes his +wife pulled him by the leg from habit and said: 'Get up, Josef.' But, +opening only one eye, lest sleep should run away from him, he would +growl: 'Leave me alone!' and sleep, maybe, till the church bell rang +for Mass at seven o'clock. + +There was really nothing to get up for now. Maciek had long ago +finished the spring-work in the fields; the Jews had left the village, +carrying their business farther afield, following the new railway line +now under construction, and no one sent for him from the manor--for +there was no manor. He smoked, strolled about for days together in the +yard, or looked at the abundantly sprouting corn. His favourite +pastime, however, was to watch the Germans, whose habitations were +shooting up like mushrooms. + +By the end of May Hamer and two or three others had finished building, +and their gospodarstwos were pleasant to look at. They resembled each +other like drops of water; each one stood in the middle of its fields, +the garden was by the roadside, shut off by a wooden fence; the house, +roughcast, consisted of four large rooms, and behind it was a good- +sized square of farm-buildings. + +All the buildings were larger and loftier than those of the Polish +peasants, and were clean and comfortable, although they looked stiff +and severe; for while the roofs of the Polish gospodarstwos overhung on +the four sides, those of the Germans did so only at the front and back. + +But they had large windows, divided into six squares, and the doors +were made by the carpenter. Jendrek, who daily ran over to the +settlement reported that there were wooden floors, and that the kitchen +was a separate room with an iron-plated stove. + +Slimak sometimes dreamt that he would build a place like that, only +with a different roof. Then he would jump up, because he felt he ought +to go somewhere and do work, for he was bored and ashamed of idling; at +times he would long for the manor-fields over which he had guided the +plough, where the settlement now stood. Then a great fear would seize +him that he would be powerless when the Germans, who had felled +forests, shattered rocks and driven away the squire, should start on +him in earnest. + +But he always reassured himself. He had been neighbours with them now +for two months and they had done him no harm. They worked quietly, +minded their cattle so that they should not stray, and even their +children were not troublesome, but went to school at Hamer's house, +where the infirm schoolmaster kept them in order. + +'They are respectable people,' he satisfied himself. 'I'm better off +with them than with the squire.' + +He was, for they bought from him and paid well. In less than a month he +had taken a hundred roubles from them; at the manor this had meant a +whole year's toil. + +'Do you think, Josef, that the Germans will always go on buying from +you?' his wife asked from time to time. 'They have their own +gospodarstwos now, and better ones than yours; you will see, it will +last through the summer at the best, and after that they won't buy a +stick from us.' + +'We shall see,' said the peasant. + +He was secretly counting on the advantages which he would reap from the +building of the new line; had not the engineer promised him this? He +even laid in provisions with this object, having to go farther afield, +for the peasants in the village would no longer sell him anything. + +But he soon realized that prices had risen; the Germans had long ago +scoured the neighbourhood and bought without bargaining. + +Once he met Josel who, instead of smiling maliciously at him as usual, +asked him to enter into a business transaction with him. + +'What sort of business?' asked Slimak. + +'Build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He wants to set up a shop and deal with the railway people, else the +Germans will take away all the business from under our noses.' + +Slimak reflected. + +'No, I don't want a Jew on my land,' he said. 'I shouldn't be the first +to be eaten up by you longcurls.' + +'You don't want to live with a Jew, but you are not afraid to pray with +the Germans,' said the Jew, pale with anger. + +Slimak was made to feel the profound unpopularity he had incurred in +the village. At church on Sundays hardly anyone answered him 'In +Eternity', and when he passed a group he would hear loud talk of +heresy, and God's judgment which would follow. + +He therefore ordered a Mass one Sunday, on the advice of his wife, and +went to confession with her and Jendrek; but this did not improve +matters, for the villagers discussed over their beer in the evening +what deadly sin he might have been guilty of to go to confession and +pray so fervently. + +Even old Sobieska rarely appeared and came furtively to ask for her +vodka. Once, when her tongue was loosened, she said: 'They say you have +turned into a Lutheran...It's true,' she added, 'there is only one +merciful God, still, the Germans are a filthy thing!' + + + +The Germans now began mysteriously to disappear with their carts at +dawn of day, carrying large quantities of provisions with them. Slimak +investigated this matter, getting up early himself. Soon he saw a tiny +yellow speck in the direction which they had taken. It grew larger +towards evening, and he became convinced that it was the approaching +railway line. + +'The scoundrels!' he said to his wife, 'they've been keeping this +secret so as to steal a march on me, but I shall drive over.' + +'Well, look sharp!' cried his wife; 'those railway people were to have +been our best customers.' + +He promised to go next day, but overslept himself, and Slimakowa barely +succeeded in driving him off the day after. + +He gathered some information on the way from the peasants. Many of them +had volunteered for work, but only a few had been taken on, and those +had soon returned, tired out. + +'It's dogs' work, not men's,' they told him; 'yet it might be worth +your while taking the horses, for carters earn four roubles a day.' + +'Four roubles a day!' thought Slimak, laying on to the horses. + +He drove on smartly and soon came alongside the great mounds of clay on +which strangers were at work, huge, strong, bearded men, wheeling large +barrows. Slimak could not wonder enough at their strength and industry. + +'Certainly, none of our men would do this,' he thought. + +No one paid any attention to him or spoke to him. At last two Jews +caught sight of him and one asked: 'What do you want, gospodarz?' The +embarrassed peasant twisted his cap in his hands. + +'I came to ask whether the gentlemen wanted any barley or lard?' + +'My dear man,' said the Jew, 'we have our regular contractors; a nice +mess we should be in, if we had to buy every sack of barley from the +peasants!' + +'They must be great people,' thought Slimak, 'they won't buy from the +peasants, they must be buying from the gentry.' + +So he bowed to the ground before the Jew, who was on the point of +walking away. + +'I entreat the favour of being allowed to cart for the gentlemen.' + +This humility pleased the Jew. + +'Go over there, my dear fellow,' he said, 'perhaps they will take you +on.' + +Slimak bowed again and made his way through the crowd with difficulty. +Among other carts he saw those of the settlers. + +Fritz Hamer came forward to meet him; he seemed to be in a position of +some authority there. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I want a job too.' The settler frowned. + +'You won't get one here!' + +Seeing that Slimak was looking round, he went to the inspector and +spoke to him. + +'No work for carters,' the latter at once shouted, 'no work! As it is +we have too many, you are only getting in people's way. Be off!' The +brutal way in which this order was given so bewildered the peasant +that, in turning, he almost upset his cart; he drove off at full speed, +feeling as if he had offended some great power which had worked enough +destruction already and was now turning hills into valleys and valleys +into hills. + +But gradually he reflected more calmly. People from the village had +been taken on, and he remembered seeing peasants' carts at the +embankment. Why had he been driven away? + +It was quite clear that some one wished to shut him out. + +'Curse the Judases, they're outdoing the Jews,' he muttered and felt a +horror of the Germans for the first time. + +He told his wife briefly that there was no work, and betook himself to +the settlement. Old Hamer seemed to be in the middle of a heated +argument with Hirschgold and two other men. When he caught sight of the +peasant he took them into the barn. + +'Sly dog,' murmured Slimak; 'he knows what I've come for. I'll tell him +straight to his face when he comes out.' + +But at every step his courage failed him more and more. He hesitated +between his desire to turn back and his unwillingness to lose a job; he +hung about the fences, and looked at the women digging in their +gardens. A murmur like the hum of a beehive caught his ears: one of the +windows in Hamer's house was open and he looked into a schoolroom. + +One of the children was reciting something in a clamorous voice, the +others were talking under their breath. The schoolmaster was standing +in the middle of the room, calling out 'Silence!' from time to time. + +When he saw Slimak, he beckoned to his daughter to take his place, and +the hubbub of voices increased. Slimak watched her trying to cope with +the children. + +The schoolmaster came up behind him, walking heavily. + +'Did you come to see how we teach our children?' he asked, smilingly. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Slimak; 'I've come to tell Hamer that he is +a scoundrel.' He related his experience. + +'What have I done?' he asked. 'Soon I may not be able to earn anything; +is one to starve because it pleases them?' + +'The truth is,' said the schoolmaster, 'that you are a thorn in their +flesh.' + +'Why?' + +'Your land is right in the middle of Hamer's fields and that spoils his +farm, but that is not the reason as much as your hill; he wants it for +a windmill. They have nothing but level ground; it's the best land in +the settlement, but no good for a windmill; if they don't put it up, +one of the other settlers will.' + +'And why are they so crazy after a windmill?' + +'Well, it matters a great deal to them; if Wilhelm had a windmill he +could marry Miller Knap's daughter from Wolka and get a thousand and +twenty roubles with her; the Hamers may go bankrupt without that money. +That's why you stick in their throats. If you sold them your land they +would pay you well.' + +'And I won't sell! I will neither help them to stay here nor do myself +harm for their benefit; when a man leaves the land of his fathers...' + +'There will be trouble,' the schoolmaster said earnestly. + +'Then let there be; I won't die because it pleases them.' + +Slimak returned home without any further wish to see Hamer; he knew +there could be no understanding between them. + + + +Maciek had discovered at dawn one morning that a crowd had reached the +river-bank by the ravines, and Slimak, hurrying thither, found some +gospodarze from the village among the men. + +'What is happening?' + +'They are going to throw up a dam and build a bridge across the +Bialka,' Wisniewski replied. + +'And what are you doing here?' + +'We have been taken on to cart sand.' + +Slimak discovered the Hamers in the crowd. + +'Nice neighbours you are!' he said bitterly, going up to them. 'Here +you are sending all the way to the village for carts, and you won't let +me have a job.' + +'We will send for you when you are living in the village,' Fritz +answered, and turned his back. + +An elderly gentleman was standing near them, and Slimak turned to him +and took off his cap. + +'Is this justice, sir?' he said. 'The Germans are getting rich on the +railway, and I don't earn a kopek. Last year two gentlemen came and +promised that I should make a lot of money. Well, your honours are +building the railway now, but I've never yet taken my horses out of the +stable. A German with thirty acres of ground is having a good job, and +I have only ten acres and a wife and children to keep, as well as the +farmhand and the girl. We shall have to starve, and it's all because +the Germans have a grudge against me.' + +He had spoken rapidly and breathlessly, and after a moment of surprise +the old man turned to Fritz Hamer. + +'Why did you not take him on?' + +Fritz looked insolently at him. + +'Is it you who has to answer for the cartage or I? Will you pay my +fines when the men fail me? I take on those whom I can trust.' + +The old man bit his lip, but did not reply. + +'I can't help you, my brother,' he said; 'you shall drive me as often +as I come to this neighbourhood. It isn't much, but every little helps. +Where do you live?' + +Slimak pointed to his cottage; he was longing to speak further, but the +old man turned to give some orders, and the peasant could only embrace +his knees. + +Old Hamer waylaid him on the way back. + +'Do you see now how badly you have done for yourself? You will do even +worse, for Fritz is furious.' + +'God is greater than Fritz.' + +'Will you take seventy-five roubles an acre and settle on the other +side of the Bug? You will have twice as much land.' + +'I would not go to the other side of the Bug for double the money; you +go, if you like!' + +When the angry men were looking back at each other, the one was +standing with a stubborn face, his pipe between his clenched teeth, the +other with folded arms, smiling sadly. Each was afraid of the other. + +The embankment was growing slowly from west to east. Before long +thousands of carriages would roll along its line with the speed of +birds, to enrich the powerful, shatter the poor, spread new customs and +manners, multiply crime...all this is called 'the advancement of +civilization'. But Slimak knew nothing of civilization and its boons, +and therefore looked upon this outcome of it as ominous. The +encroaching line seemed to him like the tongue of some vast reptile, +and the mounds of earth to forebode four graves, his own and those of +his wife and children. + +Maciek also had been watching its progress, which he considered an +entire revolution of the laws of nature. + +'It's a monstrous thing', he said, 'to heap up so much sand on the +fields near the river, and narrow the bed; when the Bialka swells, it +will overflow.' + +Slimak saw that the ends of the embankment were touching the river, but +as they had been strengthened by brick walls he took no alarm. +Nevertheless, it struck him that the Hamers were hurriedly throwing up +dams on their fields in the lower places. + +'Quick folk!' he thought, and contemplated doing the same, and +strengthening the dams with hurdles, as soon as he had cut the hay. It +occurred to him that he might do it now when he had plenty of time, +but, as usual, it remained a good intention. + +It was the beginning of July, when the hay had been cut and people were +gradually preparing for the harvest. Slimak had stacked his hay in the +backyard, but the Germans were still driving in stakes and throwing up +dams. + +The summer of that year was remarkable for great heat; the bees +swarmed, the corn was ripening fast, the Bialka was shallower than +usual, and three of the workmen died of sunstroke. Experienced farmers +feared either prolonged rain during the harvest or hail before long. +One day the storm came. + +The morning had been hot and sultry, the birds did not sing, the pigs +refused to eat and hid in the shade behind the farmbuildings; the wind +rose and fell, it blew now hot and dry, now cool and damp. By about ten +o'clock a large part of the sky was lined with heavy clouds, shading +from ashen-grey into iron-colour and perfect black; at times this sooty +mass, seeking an outlet upon the earth, burst asunder, revealing a +sinister light through the crevices. Then again the clouds lowered +themselves and drowned the tops of the forest trees in mists. But a hot +wind soon drove them upwards again and tore strips off them, so that +they hung ragged over the fields. + +Suddenly a fiery cloud appeared behind the village church; it seemed to +be flying at full speed along the railway embankment, driven by the +west wind; at the same time the north wind sprang up and buffeted it +from the side; dust flew up from the highroads and sandhills, and the +clouds began to growl. + +When they heard the sound, the workmen left their tools and barrows, +and filed away in two long detachments, one to the manor-house, the +other to their huts. The peasants and settlers turned the sand out of +their carts with all speed and galloped home. The cattle were driven in +from the fields, the women left their gardens; every place became +deserted. + +Thunderclap after thunderclap announced ever-fresh legions pressing +into the sky and obscuring the sun. It seemed as if the earth were +cowering in their presence, as a partridge cowers before the hovering +hawk. The blackthorn and juniper bushes called to caution with a low, +swishing noise; the troubled dust hid in the corn, where the young ears +whispered to each other; the distant forests murmured. + +High above, in the overcharged clouds, an evil force, with strong +desire to emulate the Creator, was labouring. It took the limp element +and formed an island, but before it had time to say, 'It is good', the +wind had blown the island away. It raised a gigantic mountain, but +before the summit had crowned it, the base had been blown from +underneath. Now it created a lion, now a huge bird, but soon only torn +wings and a shapeless torso dissolved into darkness. Then, seeing that +the works fashioned by the eternal hands endured, and that its own +phantom creations could not resist even the feeblest wind, the evil +spirit was seized with a great anger and determined to destroy the +earth. + +It sent a flash into the river, then thundered, 'Strike those fields +with hail! drench the hill!' And the obedient clouds flung themselves +down. The wind whistled the reveille, the rain beat the drum; like +hounds released from the leash the clouds bounded forward...downward, +following the direction to which the flashes of lightning pointed. The +evil spirit had put out the sun. + +After an hour's downpour the exhausted storm calmed down, and now the +roar of the Bialka could be distinctly heard. It had broken down the +banks, flooded the highroad and fields with dirty water and formed a +lake beyond the sandhills of the railway embankment. + +Soon, however, the storm had gathered fresh strength, the darkness +increased, lightning seemed to flash from all parts of the horizon; +perpendicular torrents of rain drowned the earth in sheets of mist. The +inmates of Slimak's cottage had gathered in the front room; Maciek sat +yawning on a corner of the bench, Magda, beside him, nursed the baby, +singing to it in a low voice; Slimakowa was vexed that the storm was +putting the fire out; Slimak was looking out of the window, thinking of +his crops. Jendrek was the only cheerful one; he ran out from time to +time, wetting himself to the skin, and tried to induce his brother or +Magda to join him in these excursions. + +'Come, Stasiek,' he cried, pulling him by the hand, 'it's such a warm +rain, it will wash you and cheer you up.' + +'Leave him alone,' said his father; 'he is peevish.' + +'And don't run out yourself,' added his mother, 'you are flooding the +whole room.... The Word was made Flesh,' she added under her breath, as +a terrific clap of thunder shook the house. Magda crossed herself; +Jendrek laughed and cried, 'What a din! there's another.... The Lord +Jesus is enjoying Himself, firing off....' + +'Be quiet, you silly,' called his mother; 'it may strike you!' + +'Let it strike!' laughed the boy boldly. 'They'll take me into the army +and shoot at me, but I don't mind!' He ran out again. + +'The rascal! he isn't afraid of anything,' Slimakowa said to her +husband with pride in her voice. Slimak shrugged his shoulders. + +'He's a true peasant.' + +Yet among that group of people with iron nerves there was one who felt +all the terror of this upheaval of the elements. How was it that +Stasiek, a peasant child, was so sensitive? + +Like the birds he had felt the coming storm, had roamed about +restlessly and watched the clouds, fancying that they were taking +council together, and he guessed that their intentions were evil. He +felt the pain of the beaten-down grass and shivered at the thought of +the earth being chilled under sheets of water. The electricity in the +air made his flesh tingle, the lightning dazzled him, and each clap of +thunder was like a blow on his head. It was not that he was afraid of +the storm, but he suffered under it, and his suffering spirit pondered, +'Why and whence do such terrible things come?' + +He wandered from the room to the alcove, from the alcove to the room, +as if he had lost his way, gazed absently out of the window and lay +down on the bench, feeling all the more miserable because no one took +any notice of him. + +He wanted to talk to Maciek, but he was asleep; he tried Magda and +found her absorbed in the baby; he was afraid of Jendrek's dragging him +out of doors if he spoke to him. At last he clung to his mother, but +she was cross because of the fire and pushed him away. + +'A likely thing I should amuse you, when the dinner is being spoilt!' +He roamed about again, then leant against his father's knee. + +'Daddy,' he said in a low voice, 'why is the storm so bad?' + +'Who knows?' + +'Is God doing it?' + +'It must be God.' + +Stasiek began to feel a little more cheerful, but his father happened +to shift his position, and the child thought he had been pushed away +again. He crept under the bench where Burek lay, and although the dog +was soaking wet, he pressed close to him and laid his head on the +faithful creature. + +Unluckily his mother caught sight of him. + +'Whatever's the matter with the boy?' she cried. 'Just you come away +from there, or the lightning will strike you! Out into the passage, +Burek!' + +She looked for a piece of wood, and the dog crept out with his tail +between his legs. Stasiek was left again to his restlessness, alone in +a roomful of people. Even his mother was now struck by his miserable +face and gave him a piece of bread to comfort him. He bit off a +mouthful, but could not swallow it and burst into tears. + +'Good gracious, Stasiek, what's the matter? Are you frightened?' + +'No.' + +'Then why are you so queer?' + +'It hurts me here,' he said, pointing to his chest. + +Slimak, who was depressed himself, thinking of his harvest, drew him to +his knee, saying: 'Don't worry! God may destroy our crop, but we won't +starve all the same. He is the smallest, and yet he has more sense than +the others,' he said, turning to his wife; 'he's worrying about the +gospodarstwo.' + +Gradually, as the storm abated, the roar of the river struck them +afresh. Slimak quickly drew on his boots. + +'Where are you going?' asked his wife. + +'Something's wrong outside.' + +He went and returned breathlessly. + +'I say! It's just as I thought.' + +'Is it the corn?' + +'No, that hasn't suffered much, but the dam is broken.' + +'Jesus! Jesus!' + +'The water is up to our yard. Those scoundrel Swabians have dammed up +their fields, and that has taken some more off the hill.' + +'Curse them!' + +'Have you looked into the stable?' asked Maciek. + +'Is it likely I shouldn't? There's water in the stable, water in the +cowshed, look! even the passage is flooded; but the rain is stopping, +we must bale out.' + +'And the hay?' + +'That will dry again if God gives fine weather.' + +Soon the entire household were baling in the house and farm-buildings; +the fire was burning brightly, and the sun peeped out from behind the +clouds. + +On the other bank of the river the Germans were at work. Barelegged, +and armed with long poles, they waded carefully through the flooded +fields towards the river to catch the drifting logs. + +Stasiek was calming down; he was not tingling all over now. From time +to time he still fancied he heard the thunder, and strained his ears, +but it was only the noise of the others baling with wooden grain +measures. There was much commotion in the passage where Jendrek pushed +Magda about instead of baling. + +'Steady there,' cried his mother, 'when I get hold of something hard +I'll beat you black and blue!' + +But Jendrek laughed, for he could tell by a shade in her voice that she +was no longer cross. + +Courage returned to Stasiek's heart. Supposing he were to peep out into +the yard... would there still be a terrible black cloud? Why not try? +He put his head out of the back door and saw the blue sky flecked with +little white clouds hurrying eastwards. The cock was flapping his wings +and crowing, heavy drops were sparkling on the bushes, golden streaks +of sunlight penetrated into the passage, and bright reflections from +the surface of the waters beckoned to him. + +He flew out joyfully through the pools of water, delighting in the +rainbow-coloured sheaves that were spurting from under his feet; he +stood on a plank and punted himself along with a stick, pretending that +he was sailing in deep water. + +'Come, Jendrek!' he called. + +'Stop here and go on baling,' called out Slimakowa. + +The Germans were still busy landing wood; whenever they got hold of a +specially large piece they shouted 'Hurrah!' Suddenly some big logs +came floating down, and this raised their enthusiasm to such a pitch +that they started singing the 'Wacht am Rhein'. For the first time in +his life Stasiek, who was so sensitive to music, heard a men's chorus +sung in parts. It seemed to melt into one with the bright sun; both +intoxicated him; he forgot where he was and what he was doing, he stood +petrified. Waves seemed to be floating towards him from the river, +embracing and caressing him with invisible arms, drawing him +irresistibly. He wanted to turn towards the house or call Jendrek, but +he could only move forward, slowly, as in a dream, then +faster...faster; he ran, and disappeared down the hill. + +The men were singing the third verse of the 'Wacht am Rhein', when they +suddenly stopped and shouted: + +'Help...help!' + +Slimak and Maciek had stopped in their work to listen to the singing; +the sudden cries surprised them, but it was the labourer who was seized +with apprehension. + +'Run, gospodarz,' he said; 'something's up.' + +'Eh! something they have taken into their heads!' + +'Help!' the cry rose again. + +'Never mind, run, gospodarz,' the man urged; 'I can't keep up with you, +and something....' + +Slimak ran towards the river, and Maciek painfully dragged himself +after him. Jendrek overtook him. + +'What's up? Where is Stasiek?' + +Maciek stopped and heard a powerful voice calling out: + +'That's the way you look after your children, Polish beasts!' + +Then Slimak appeared on the hill, holding Stasiek in his arms. The +boy's head was resting on his shoulder, his right arm hung limply. +Dirty water was flowing from them both. Slimak's lips were livid, his +eyes wide open. Jendrek ran towards him, slipped on the boggy hillside, +scrambled up and shouted in terror: 'Daddy...Stasiek...what....' + +'He's drowned!' + +'You are mad,' cried the boy; 'he's sitting on your arm!' + +He pulled Stasiek by the shirt, and the boy's head fell over his +father's shoulder. + +'You see!' whispered Slimak. + +'But he was in the backyard a minute ago.' + +Slimak did not answer, he supported Stasiek's head and stumbled +forward. + +Slimakowa was standing in the passage, shading her eyes and waiting. + +'Well, what has he been up to now?... What's this? Has it fallen on +Stasiek again? Curse those Swabians and their singing!' + +She went up to the boy and, taking his hand, said in a trembling voice: + +'Never mind, Stasiek, don't roll your eyes like that, never mind! Come +to your senses, I won't scold you. Magda, fetch some water.' + +'He has had more than enough water,' murmured Slimak. + +The woman started back. + +'What's the matter with him? Why is he so wet?' + +'I have taken him out of the pool by the river.' + +'That little pool?' + +'The water was only up to my waist, but it did for him.' + +'Then why don't you turn him upside down? Maciek, take him by the +feet...oh, you clumsy fellows!' + +The labourer did not stir. She seized the boy herself by the legs. + +Stasiek struck the ground heavily with his hands; a little blood ran +from his nose. + +Maciek took the child from her and carried him into the cottage, where +he laid him down on the bench. They all followed him except Magda, who +ran aimlessly round the yard and then, with outstretched arms, on to +the highroad, crying: 'Help...help, if you believe in God!' She +returned to the cottage, but dared not go in, crouched on the threshold +with her head on her knees, groaning: 'Help...if you believe in God.' + +Slimak dashed into the alcove, put on his sukmana and ran out, he did +not know whither; he felt he must run somewhere. + +A voice seemed to cry to him: 'Father...father...if you had put up a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +And the man answered: 'It is not my fault; the Germans bewitched him +with their singing.' + +A cart was heard rattling on the highroad and stopped in front of the +cottage. The schoolmaster got out, bareheaded and with his rod in his +hand. 'How is the boy?' he called out, but did not wait for an answer +and limped into the cottage. + +Stasiek was lying on the bench, his mother was supporting his head on +her knees and whispering to herself: 'He's coming to, he's a little +warmer.' + +The schoolmaster nudged Maciek: 'How is he?' + +'What do I know? She says he's better, but the boy doesn't move, no, he +doesn't move.' + +The schoolmaster went up to the boy and told his mother to make room. +She got up obediently and watched the old man breathlessly, with open +mouth, sobbing now and then. Slimak peeped through the open window from +time to time, but he was unable to bear the sight of his child's pale +face. The schoolmaster stripped the wet clothes off the little body and +slowly raised and lowered his arms. There was silence while the others +watched him, until Slimakowa, unable to contain herself any longer, +pulled her hair down and then struck her head against the wall. + +'Oh, why were you ever born?' she moaned, 'a child of gold! He +recovered from all his illnesses and now he is drowned.... Merciful +God! why dost Thou punish me so? Drowned like a puppy in a muddy pool, +and no one to help!' + +She sank down on her knees, while the schoolmaster persevered for half +an hour, listening for the beating of the child's heart from time to +time, but no sign of life appeared and, seeing that he could do no +more, he covered the child's body with a cloth, silently said a prayer +and went out. Maciek followed him. + +In the yard he came upon Slimak; he looked like a drunken man. + +'What have you come here for, schoolmaster?' he choked. 'Haven't you +done us enough harm? You've killed my child with your singing...do you +want to destroy his soul too as it is leaving him, or do you mean to +bring a curse on the rest of us?' + +'What is that you are saying?' said the schoolmaster in amazement. + +The peasant stretched his arms and gasped for breath. + +'Forgive me, sir,' he said, 'I know you are a good man.... God reward +you,' he kissed his hand; 'but my Stasiek died through your fault all +the same: you bewitched him.' + +'Man!' cried the schoolmaster, 'are we not Christians like you? Do we +not put away Satan and his deeds as you do?' + +'But how was it he got drowned?' + +'How do I know? He may have slipped.' + +'But the water was so shallow he might have scrambled out, only your +singing...that was the second time it bewitched him so that something +fell on him...isn't it true, Maciek?' + +The labourer nodded. + +'Did the boy have fits?' asked the schoolmaster. + +'Never.' + +'And has he never been ill?' + +'Never.' + +Maciek shook his head. 'He's been ill since the winter.' + +'Eh?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm speaking the truth; Stasiek has been ill ever since he took a +cold; he couldn't run without getting out of breath; once I saw it fall +upon him while I was ploughing. I had to go and bring him round.' + +'Why did you never say anything about it?' + +'I did tell the gospodyni, but she told me to mind my own business and +not to talk like a barber.' + +'Well, you see,' said the schoolmaster, the boy was suffering from a +weak heart and that killed him; he would have died young in any case.' + +Slimak listened eagerly, and his consciousness seemed to return. + +'Could it be that?' he murmured. 'Did the boy die a natural death?' + +He tapped at the window and the woman came out, rubbing her swollen +eyes. + +'Why didn't you tell me that Stasiek had been ill since the winter, and +couldn't run without feeling queer?' + +'Of course he wasn't well,' she said; 'but what good could you have +done?' + +'I couldn't have done anything, for if he was to die, he was to die.' + +The mother cried quietly. + +'No, he couldn't escape; if he was to die he was to die; he must have +felt it coming to-day during the storm, when he went about clinging to +everyone...if only it had entered my head not to let him out of my +sight...if I had only locked him up....' + +'If his hour had come, he would have died in the cottage,' said the +schoolmaster, departing. + +Already resignation was entering into the hearts of those who mourned +for Stasiek. They comforted each other, saying that no hair falls from +our heads without God's will. + +'Not even the wild beasts die unless it is God's will,' said Slimak: 'a +hare may be shot at and escape, and then die in the open field, so that +you can catch it with your hands.' + +'Take my case,' said Maciek: 'the cart crushed me and they took me to +the hospital, and here I am alive; but when my hour has struck I shall +die, even if I were to hide under the altar. So it was with Stasiek.' + +'My little one, my comfort!' sobbed the mother. + +'Well, he wouldn't have been much comfort,' said Slimak; 'he couldn't +have done heavy farm work.' 'Oh, no!' put in Maciek. + +'Or handled the beasts.' + +'Oh, no!' + +'He would never have made a peasant; he was such a peculiar child, he +didn't care for farm work; all he cared for was roaming about and +gazing into the river.' + +'Yes, and he would talk to the grass and the birds, I have heard it +myself,' said Maciek, 'and many times have I thought: "Poor thing! what +will you do when you grow up? You'd be a queer fish even among +gentlefolk, but what will it be like for you among the peasants?"' + +In the evening Slimak carried Stasiek on to the bed in the alcove; his +mother laid two copper coins on his eyes and lit the candle in front of +the Madonna. + +They put down straw in the room, but neither of them could sleep; Burek +howled all night, Magda was feverish; Jendrek continually raised +himself from the straw, for he fancied his brother had moved. But +Stasiek did not move. + +In the morning Slimak made a little coffin; carpentering came so easily +to him that he could not help smiling contentedly at his own work now +and then. But when he remembered what he was doing, he was seized with +such passionate grief that he threw down his tools and ran out, he knew +not whither. + +On the third day Maciek harnessed the horses to the cart, and they +drove to the village church, Jendrek keeping close to the coffin and +steadying it, so that it should not rock. He even tapped, and listened +if his brother were not calling. + +But Stasiek was silent. He was silent when they drove to the church, +silent when the priest sprinkled holy water on him, silent when they +took him to his grave and his father helped the gravedigger to lower +him, and when they threw clods of earth upon him and left him alone for +the first time. + +Even Maciek burst into tears. Slimak hid his face in his sukmana like a +Roman senator and would not let his grief be looked upon. + +And a voice in his heart whispered: 'Father! father! if you had made a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +But he answered: 'I am not guilty; he died because his hour had come.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Autumn came with drab, melancholy stubble fields; the bushes in the +ravines turned red; the storks hastily left the barns and flew south; +in the few woods that remained, the birds were silent, human beings had +deserted the fields; only here and there some old German women in blue +petticoats were digging up the last potatoes. Even the navvies had +left, the embankment was finished, and they had dispersed all over the +world. Their place was taken by a light railway bringing rails and +sleepers. At first you were only aware of smoke in the distant west; in +a few days' time you discovered a chimney, and presently found that +that chimney was fixed to a large cauldron which rolled along without +horses, dragging after it a dozen wagons full of wood and iron. +Whenever it stopped men jumped out and laid down the wood, fastened the +iron to it and drove off again. These were the proceedings which Maciek +was watching daily. + +'Look, how clever that is,' he said to Slimak; 'they can get their load +uphill without horses. Why should we worry the beasts?' + +But when the cauldron came to a dead stop where the embankment ended by +the ravines and the men had taken out and disposed of the load, 'Now, +what will they do?' he thought. + +To the farm labourer's utter astonishment the cauldron gave a shrill +whistle and moved backwards with its wagons. + +Yes, there it was! Had not the Galician harvesters told him of an +engine that went by itself? Had they not drunk through his money with +which he was to buy boots? + +'To be sure, they told me true, it goes by itself; but it creeps like +old Sobieska,' he added, to comfort himself. Yet, deep down in his +heart he was afraid of this new contrivance and felt that it boded no +good to the neighbourhood. And though he reasoned inconsequently he was +right, for with the appearance of the railway engines there also came +much thieving. From pots and pans, drying on the fences, to horses in +the stables, nothing was safe. The Germans had their bacon stolen from +the larder; the gospodarz Marcinezak, who returned rather tipsy from +absolution, was attacked by men with blackened faces and thrown out of +his cart, with which the robbers drove off at breakneck speed. Even the +poor tailor Niedoperz, when crossing a wood, was relieved of the three +roubles he had earned with so much labour. + +The railway brought Slimak no luck either. It became increasingly +difficult to buy fodder for the animals, and no one now asked him to +sell his produce. The salted butter, and other produce of which he had +laid in a stock, went bad, and they had to eat the fowls themselves. +The Germans did all the trading with the railway men, and even in the +little town no one looked at the peasant's produce. + +So Slimak sat in his room and did no work. Where should he find work? +He sat by the stove and pondered. Would things continue like this? +would there always be too little hay? would no one buy from him? would +there be no end to the thieving? What was not under lock and key in the +farm-buildings was no longer safe. + +Meanwhile the Germans drove about for miles in all directions and sold +all that they produced. + +'Things are going badly,' said Slimakowa. + +'Eh...they'll get straight again somehow,' he answered. + +Gradually poor Stasiek was forgotten. Sometimes his mother laid one +spoon too many, and then wiped her eyes with her kerchief, sometimes +Magda thoughtlessly called Jendrek by his brother's name or the dog +would run round the buildings looking for some one, and then lay down +barking, with his head on the ground. But all this happened more and +more rarely. + +Jendrek had been restless since his brother's death; he did not like to +sit indoors when there was nothing to do, and roamed about. His rambles +frequently ended in a visit to the schoolmaster; out of curiosity he +examined the books, and as he knew some of the letters, the +schoolmaster's daughter amused herself by teaching him to spell. The +boy would purposely stumble over his words so that she should correct +him and touch his shoulder to point out the mistake. + +One day he took home a book to show what he had learnt, and his +overjoyed mother sent the schoolmaster's daughter a couple of fowls and +four dozen eggs. Slimak promised the schoolmaster five roubles when +Jendrek would be able to pray from a book and ten more when he should +have learnt to write. Jendrek was therefore more and more often at the +settlement, either busy with his lessons or else watching the girl +through the window and listening to her voice. But this happened to +annoy one of the young Germans, who was a relation of the Hamers. + +Under ordinary circumstances Jendrek's behaviour would have attracted +his parents' attention, but they were entirely engrossed in another +subject. Every day convinced them more firmly of the fact that they had +too little fodder and a cow too many. They did not say so to each +other, but no one in the house thought of anything else. The gospodyni +thought of it when she saw the milk get less in the pails, Magda had +forebodings and caressed the cows in turns, Maciek, when unobserved, +even deprived the horses of a handful of hay, and Slimak would stand in +front of the cowshed and sigh. + +It was he himself who one night broke this tacit understanding of +silence on the sad question which was becoming a crisis; he suddenly +awoke, sprang up and sat down on the edge of the bed. + +'What's the matter, Josef?' asked his wife. + +'Oh...I was dreaming that we had no fodder left and all the cows had +died.' + +'In the name of the Father and the Son...may you not have spoken that +in an evil hour!' + +'There is not enough fodder for five tails...it's no good pretending.' + +'Well, then, what will you do?' + +'How do I know?' + +'Perhaps one could...' + +'Maybe sell one of them...' finished the husband. + +The word had fallen. + +Next time Slimak went to the inn he gave Josel a hint, who passed it on +at once to two butchers in the little town. + +When they came to the cottage, Slimakowa refused to speak to them and +Magda began to cry. Slimak took them to the yard. + +'Well, how is it, gospodarz, you want to sell a cow?' + +'How can I tell?' + +'Which one is it? Let's see her.' + +Slimak said nothing, and Maciek had to take up the conversation. + +'If one is to be sold, it may as well be Lysa.' + +'Lead her out,' urged the butchers. + +Maciek led the unfortunate cow into the yard; she seemed astonished at +being taken out at such an unusual hour. + +The butchers looked her over, chattered in Yiddish and asked the price. + +'How do I know?' Slimak said, still irresolute. + +'What's the good of talking like that, you know as well as we do that +she's an old beast. We will give you fifteen roubles.' + +Slimak relapsed into silence, and Maciek had to do the bargaining; +after much shouting and pulling about of the cow, they agreed on +eighteen roubles. A rope was laid on her horns and the stick about her +shoulders, and they started. + +The cow, scenting mischief, would not go; first she turned back to the +cowshed and was dragged towards the highroad, then she lowed so +miserably that Maciek went pale and Magda was heard to sob loudly: the +gospodyni would not look out of the window. + +The cow finally planted herself firmly on the ground with her four feet +rigidly fixed, and looked at Slimak with rolling eyes as if to say: +'Look, gospodarz, what they are doing to me...for six years I have been +with you and have honestly done my duty, stand by me now.' + +Slimak did not move, and the cow at last allowed herself to be led +away, but when she had been plodding along for a little distance, he +slowly followed. He pressed the Jews' money in his hand and thought: + +'Ought I to have sold you? I should never have done it if the merciful +God had not been angry with us; but we might all starve.' + +He stood still, leant against the railings and turned all his +misfortunes over in his mind; now and then the thought that he might +still run and buy her back stole into his mind. + +He suddenly noticed that old Hamer had come close up to him. + +'Are you coming to see me, gospodarz?' he asked. + +'I'll come, if you will sell me fodder.' + +'Fodder won't help you. A peasant among settlers will always be at a +disadvantage,' said the old man, with his pipe between his teeth. 'Sell +me your land; I'll give you a hundred roubles an acre.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are mad, Pan Hamer, I don't know what you +mean. Isn't it enough that I am obliged to sell the beast? Now you want +me to sell everything. If you want me to leave, carry me out into the +churchyard. It is nothing to you Germans to move from place to place, +you are a roving people and have no country, but a peasant is like a +stone by the wayside. I know everything here by heart. I have moved +every clod of earth with my own hands; now you say: sell and go +elsewhere. Wherever I went I should be dazed and lost; when I looked at +a bush I should say: that did not grow at home; the soil would be +different and even the sun would not set in the same place. And what +should I tell my father if he were to come looking for me when it gets +too hot for him in Purgatory? He would ask me how I was to find his +grave again, and Stasiek's, poor Stasiek who has laid down his head, +thanks to you!' + +Hamer was trembling with rage. + +'What rubbish the man is talking!' he cried, 'have not numbers of +peasants settled afresh in Volhynia? His father will come looking for +him! ...You had better look out that you don't go to Purgatory soon +yourself for your obstinacy, and ruin me into the bargain. You are +ruining my son now, because I can't build him a windmill. Here I am +offering you a hundred roubles an acre, confound it all!' + +'Say what you like, but I won't sell you my land.' + +'You'll sell it all right,' said Hamer, shaking his fist, 'but I shan't +buy it; you won't last out a year among us.' + +He turned away abruptly. + +'And I don't want that lad to stroll in and out of the settlement,' he +called back, 'I don't keep a schoolmaster here for you!' + +'That's nothing to me; he needn't go if you grudge him the room.' + +'Yes, I grudge him the room,' the old man retorted viciously, 'the +father is a dolt, let the son be a dolt too.' + +Slimak's regret for the cow was drowned in his anger. 'All right, let +them cut her throat,' he thought, but remembering that the poor beast +could not help his quarrel with Hamer, he sighed. + +There were fresh lamentations at home; Magda was blubbering because she +had been given notice. Slimak sat down on the bench and listened to his +wife comforting the girl. + +'It's true, we are not short of food,' she said, 'but how am I to get +the money for your wages? You are a big girl and ought to have a rise +after the New Year. We haven't enough work for you; go to your uncle at +once, tell him how things are going from bad to worse here, and fall at +his feet and ask him to find you another place. Please God, you will +come back to us.' 'Ho,' murmured Maciek from his corner, 'there's no +returning; when you're gone, you're gone; first the cow, then Magda, +now my turn will come.' + +'Oh, you, Maciek, you will stay,' said Slimakowa, 'there must be some +one to look after the horses, and if we don't give you your wages one +year, you'll get them the next, but we can't do that to Magda, she is +young.' + +'That's true,' said Maciek on reflection, 'and it's kind of you to +think of the girl first.' + +Slimak was silently admiring his wife's good sense, but at the same +time he felt acute regret and apprehension at all these changes; +everything had been going on harmoniously for years, and now one day +sufficed to send both the cow and Magda away. + +'What shall I do?' he ruminated, 'shall I try to set up as a carpenter, +or shall I apply to his Reverence for advice? I might ask him at the +same time to say a Mass, but maybe he would say the Mass and not give +the advice. It will all come right; God strikes until His hand is +tired; then He looks down in favour again on those who suffer +patiently.' So he waited. + +Magda had found another situation by November; her place in the +gospodarstwo soon grew cold, no one thought or talked of her, and only +the gospodyni asked herself sometimes: 'Were there really a Stasiek in +this room once and a Magda pottering about, and three cows in the +shed?' + +Meanwhile the thieving increased. Slimak daily thought of putting bolts +and padlocks on the farm-buildings, or at least long poles in front of +the stable door. But whenever he reached for the hatchet, it always lay +too far off, or his arm was too short; anyhow he left it, and the +thought of buying padlocks when times were hard, made him feel quite +faint. He hid the money at the bottom of the chest so that it should +not tempt him. 'I must wait till the spring,' he thought; 'after all, +there are Maciek and Burek, they are sharp enough.' + +Burek confirmed this opinion by much howling. + +One very dark night, when sleet was falling, Maciek heard him barking +more furiously than usual, and attacking some one in the direction of +the ravines. He jumped up and waked Slimak; armed with hatchets they +waited in the yard. A heavy tread approached behind the barn as of some +one carrying a load. 'At them!' they urged Burek, who, feeling himself +backed up, attacked furiously. + +'Shall we go for them?' asked Maciek. + +Slimak hesitated. 'I don't know how many there are.' + +At that moment a light flashed up from the settlement, horses +clattered. Seeing that help was approaching, Slimak dashed behind the +barn and called out: 'Hey there! who are you?' + +Something heavy fell to the ground. + +'You wait! policeman for the Swabians, you shall soon know who we are!' +answered a voice in the darkness. + +'Catch him!' cried Slimak and Maciek simultaneously, but the thief had +escaped to the ravines. When the Germans on horseback came up, Slimak +lit a torch and ran behind the barn. A pig's carcass lay in a puddle. + +'That's our hog,' cried Fritz, 'they stole it from under our noses and +while there was a light in the house.' + +'Daredevils!' muttered Maciek. + +'To tell you the truth,' laughed Earner's farmhand, 'we thought it was +you who had done it.' + +'Go to the devil!' + +'Let's go after them,' Fritz interrupted quickly. + +'Go on! I... steal your hog! indeed!' + +'Let me go, father,' begged Jendrek. + +'Go indoors! We've saved them a hog and the thieves will revenge +themselves on us; and here they come and accuse me of being a thief +myself.' Fritz Hamer swore at the farm-hand for his clumsiness and +tried to pacify the peasant, but he turned his back on him. Fritz had +lost his zeal for pursuing the thieves, took up his hog and disappeared +into the darkness. + +After a few days the police-sergeant drove up, cross-examined every +one, explored the ravines, perspired, made himself muddy, and found no +one. He came to the very just conclusion that the thieves must have +escaped long ago. So he told Slimakowa to put some butter and a +speckled hen into his cart and returned home. + +The thieving stopped for a while, and winter came on. The ground was +warmly covered as with a sheepskin; ice as hard as flint froze on the +Bialka, the Lord wrapped the branches of the trees securely in shirts +of snow. But Slimak was still meditating on hasps and bolts. + +One evening, as he sat filling the room with smoke from his pipe, +shifting his feet and arriving at the second part of his meditations, +namely that 'What is done too soon is the devil's,' Jendrek excitedly +burst into the room. His mother was busy with the fire and paid no +attention to him, but his father noticed, although they were sparing of +light in the cottage, that his sukmana was torn and he looked bruised +and dishevelled. Looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, Slimak +emptied his pipe and said: 'Someone has been oxing your ears three +times over.' + +'I gave him one better,' said the boy scowling. + +As the mother had gone out and did not hear the conversation, the +father did not hurry himself; he cleaned his choked pipe, blew through +it and indifferently inquired, 'Who's been treating you this?' + +'That scoundrel, Hermann.' The boy was hitching up his shoulders as if +he had been stung. + +'And what were you doing at Earner's when you had been told not to go +there?' + +'I was looking at the schoolmaster through the window,' said Jendrek +blushing, and added quickly, 'That German dog ran out from the kitchen +and shouted: "You are spying about here, you thief!" "What have I +stolen?" I say, and he: "Nothing yet, but you will steal some day; be +off, or I'll box your ears." "Try!" I say. "I've tried before," says +he; "take this!"' + +'That was smart of the Swabian,' said Slimak, 'and did you do nothing +to him?' + +'Why should I do nothing to him? I snatched up a log and hit him over +the head two or three times, but the coward started bleeding and gave +in; I should have liked to have given him more, but they came running +out of their houses and I made off.' + +'So they didn't catch you?' + +'Bah, how can they catch me, when I run like a hare?' 'Confound the +boy,' said his mother, who had come in, 'the Swabians will beat him +small.' + +'He can always give them the slip,' said Slimak, lit his pipe, and +resumed his meditations on hasps and bolts. + +But these were interrupted the next afternoon by a visit from the +Hamers; their cousin, Hermann, had his head so tightly bandaged that +hardly anything was visible of his face. They stood outside the gate +and shouted to Maciek to call his master. Slimak hastily fastened his +belt and stepped out. 'What do you want?' he said. + +'We are going to the police-station to take out a summons against that +Jendrek of yours; look what he has done to Hermann; we have a +certificate from the surgeon that his injuries are serious.' + +'He came ogling the schoolmaster's daughter, now he shall ogle his +prison bars,' Hermann added thickly behind his bandages. + +Slimak was getting worried. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' he said, 'to take out a +summons for a bit of boy's nonsense; didn't Hermann box his ears too? +But we don't take out summonses for that sort of thing.' + +'Oh, rather! I gave it him,' mumbled Hermann, 'but where's the blood? +where's the doctor's certificate?' + +'You're a nice one,' said Slimak bitterly, 'there was no policeman to +certify that it was we who saved you the hog, but when a boy plays a +prank on you, you go to law.' + +'Perhaps with you a hog means as much as a man,' sneered Fritz; 'with +us it is different.' + +Slimak's meditations now turned from bolts and padlocks to prisons. He +talked the matter over with Maciek. + +'When they put our small Jendrek in Court by the side of that big +Hermann, I reckon they won't do much to him.' + +'They'll do nothing to him,' agreed the labourer. + +'All the same, I should like to know what the punishment is for +thrashing a man.' + +'They don't trouble their heads much about it. When Potocka beat her +neighbour over the head with a saucepan, they just fined her.' + +'That's true, but I am afraid they think more of the Germans than of +our people.' + +'How could they think more of unbelievers?' + +'Look at the police-sergeant, he talks to Hamer as he wouldn't even +talk to Gryb.' + +'That is so, but when he has looked round to see that no one is +listening, he tells you that a German is a mangy dog. You see, the +Germans have their Kaiser, but he's nothing like as great as our Czar; +I have it from a soldier who was in the hospital, and he used to say: +"Bah, he's nothing compared to ours!"' + +This greatly reassured Slimak, and he went to church with his wife and +son the next Sunday to find out what others, familiar with the ways of +the law, thought of the matter. Maciek remained at home to look after +the dinner and the baby. + +It was past noon when Burek began to bark furiously. Maciek looked out +and saw a man dressed like the townspeople standing at the gate; he had +pulled his cap well over his face. The farm-labourer went outside. + +'What's up?' + +'Take pity on us, gospodarz,' said the stranger, 'our sledge has broken +down close by, and I can't mend it, because they have stolen the +hatchet out of my basket last night.' + +Maciek looked doubtful. 'Have you come far?' + +'Twenty-five miles; my wife and I are driving twelve miles further. I +will give you good vodka and sausages if you will help us.' + +Maciek's suspicions lessened when vodka was mentioned. He shook his +head and crossed himself, but ultimately decided that one must help +one's neighbour, fetched the hatchet and went out with the stranger. + +He found a one-horse sledge standing near the farm. A woman, even more +smartly dressed than the man, sat huddled up in a corner; she blessed +Maciek in a tearful voice, but her husband did more, he poured out a +large tumblerful of vodka and offered it to the labourer, drinking to +his health first. Maciek apologized, as the ceremony demanded, then +took a long pull, till the tears came into his eyes. He set about +mending the sledge, and although it was a small job and did not take +him more than half an hour, the strangers thanked him extravagantly, +the woman gave him half a sausage and some roast pork, and the man +exclaimed: 'I have travelled far and wide, but I have never found a +more obliging peasant than you are, brother. I should like to leave you +a remembrance. Have you got a bottle?' + +'I think I could find one,' said Maciek, in a voice trembling with +delight. The man unceremoniously pushed his wife on one side and drew a +large bottle from underneath the seat. + +'We are off now,' he said, 'we will go to the gospodarstwo and you +shall give me some nails in case of another breakdown, and I will leave +you some of this cordial in return. Mind, if your head or your stomach +aches or you are worried and can't sleep, take a glassful of this: all +your worries will at once disappear. Take good care of it and don't on +any account give a drop away, it's a speciality; my grandfather got it +from the monks at Radecznica, it's as good as holy water.' + +Maciek went into the house, the stranger remained in the yard, looking +carelessly round the buildings, while Burek barked madly at him. At any +other time the dog's anger would have roused Maciek's suspicion, but +how could one think anything but well of a guest who had already given +vodka and sausages and who was offering more drink? He smilingly +offered a big-bellied bottle to the traveller, who poured half a pint +of the cordial into it, and when he took leave he repeated the warning +that it should be used only in case of need. + +Maciek stuffed a piece of rag into the neck of the bottle and hid it in +the stable. He felt a strong desire to taste the drink, if only a drop, +but he resisted. + +'Supposing I were to get ill... better keep it.' + +He rocked the baby to sleep and then woke her up again to tell her +about the hospital and his broken leg, about the travellers who had +left him such a magnificent present, but nothing could take his +thoughts away from the monks' cordial. The big-bellied bottle seemed to +hover over the pots and pans on the stove, it blossomed out of the +wall, it almost tapped at the window, but Maciek blinked his eyes and +thought: 'Leave me alone, you will come in useful some day!' + +Shortly before sunset he heard cheerful singing in the road, and. +quickly stepping outside, he saw the gospodarz and his family returning +from church. They were silhouetted against the red sky in the white +landscape. Jendrek, his head in the air and his arms crossed behind his +back, was walking on the left side of the road, the gospodyni in her +blue Sunday skirt, and her jacket unbuttoned, so that her white chemise +and bare chest were showing, on the right. The gospodarz, his cap awry, +and holding up nis sukmana as for a dance, lurched from right to left +and from left to right, singing. The labourer laughed, not because they +were drunk, but because it pleased him to see them enjoying themselves. + +'Do you know, Maciek,' cried Slimak from afar, 'do you know the +Swabians can't hurt us!' + +He ran up full tilt and supported himself on Maciek's neck. + +'Do you know,' cried the gospodyni, coming up,'we have seen Jasiek Gryb +who knows all about the law; we told him about Jendrek's giving it to +Hermann, and he swore by a happy death that the Court would let Jendrek +off; Jasiek has been tried for these tricks himself, he knows.' + +'Let them try and put me in prison!' shouted Jendrek. + +It was in this frame of mind that they sat down, but somehow the dinner +was not a success. Slimakowa poured most of the sauerkraut over the +table, the gospodarz had no appetite, and Jendrek had forgotten how to +hold a spoon, scalded his father's foot with soup and finally fell +asleep. His parents followed his example, so Maciek was left to himself +again. The big-bellied bottle started pursuing him immediately. It +availed nothing that he busied himself with the fire and the wick of +the flickering lamp. The snoring around him disposed him to sleep and +the smell of vodka that had been introduced into the room filled him +with longing. In vain he tried to keep off the thoughts that circled +like moths round the light. When he forgot his misery at the hospital, +he thought of the forlornness of the abandoned baby, and when he put +that aside his own needs overwhelmed him again. 'It's no use,' he +muttered, 'I must go to bed.' + +He wrapped the child in the sheepskin and went into the stable. He lay +down on the straw, the warmth of the horses tempered the cold, and +Maciek closed his eyes, but sleep would not come; it was too early yet. + +As he turned from side to side, his hand came in contact with the +bottle; he pushed it away; but, violating the law of inertia, it thrust +itself irresistibly into his hand; the rag remained between his +fingers, and when he mechanically lifted it to his eyes in the half- +light, the strange vessel leapt to his lips of its own accord. Before +he was conscious of what he was doing, Maciek had pulled a long draft +of the health-giving speciality. He gulped it down and pulled a wry +face. The drink was not only strong, it was nauseous; it simply tasted +like ordinary medicine. 'Well, that wasn't worth longing for!' he +thought, as he stuffed up the neck of the bottle again. He resolved to +be more temperate in future with a liquor which was not distinguished +for a good taste. + +Maciek said a prayer and felt warm and calm. He remembered the +home-coming of the gospodarz's family: they all stood before his eyes +as if they were alive. Suddenly Slimak and Jendrek vanished and only +Slimakowa remained near him in her unbuttoned jacket which exposed rows +of corals and her bare white chest. He closed his eyelids and pressed +them with his fingers, so as not to look, but still he saw her, smiling +at him in a strange way. He hid his head in the sheepskin--it was in +vain; the woman stood there and smiled in a way that sent the fever +through his veins. His heart beat violently; he turned his head to the +wall and, terror-stricken, heard her voice whispering close to him: +'Move up!' + +'Where am I to move to?' groaned Maciek. + +A warm hand seemed to embrace his neck. + +Then his mattress began to ascend with him, he flew... flew. God I was +he falling or being lifted into the air? he felt as light as a feather, +as smoke. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw stars glittering in a +dark sky over a snowy landscape. How could he be seeing the sky? +No... he must have made a mistake; darkness was surrounding him again. +He wanted to move, but could not; besides, why should he move, when he +felt so extraordinarily comfortable? there was not a thing in the world +that it would be worth while moving a finger for, nothing but sleep +mattered, sleep without awakening. He sighed heavily and slept and +slept. + +A sensation of pain woke Maciek from a dreamless sleep which must have +lasted about ten hours. He felt himself violently shaken, kicked in the +ribs and on the head, tugged by his arms and legs. + +'Get up, you thief... get up!' a voice was shouting at him. + +He tried to get up, but turned over on the other side instead. The +blows and tugs recommenced, and the voice, choked with rage, continued: + +'Get up! I wish the holy earth had never carried you!' + +At last Maciek roused himself and sat up; the light hurt his eyes, his +head felt heavy like a rock; so he closed his eyes again, supported his +head and tried to think; immediately he received a blow in the face +from a fist. When at last he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Slimak +who was standing over him, mad with rage. + +'What are you hitting me for?' he asked in amazement. + +'Where are the horses, you thief?' shouted Slimak. + +'Horses? what horses?' + +He was suddenly seized with sickness. Coming to himself a little, he +looked round. Yes, something seemed to be missing from the stable; he +wiped his forehead, looked again... the stable was empty. + +'But where are the horses?' he asked. + +'Where?' cried Slimak, 'where your brothers have taken them, you +thief.' The labourer held out his hands. + +'I never took them out. I haven't stirred from here all night, +something must have happened... I am ill.' + +He staggered up and had to support himself. + +'What is that? You are trying to make out that you have lost your wits. +You know quite well that the horses have been stolen. Whoever stole +them must have opened the door and led them over you.' + +'God help me! no one opened the door, no one led them over me,' cried +Maciek, bursting into sobs. + +'Dad! Burek is lying dead behind the fence,' cried Jendrek, who came +running up with his mother. + +'They have poisoned him,' said the woman, 'the foam has frozen on his +mouth.' + +Maciek sank down in the open door, unable to stand any longer. + +'The devil has got him too, he isn't like himself, something has fallen +on him,' said Slimak. + +'And may he keep it till he dies,'cried the woman, 'here he is sleeping +in the stable and lets the horses be stolen. May the ground spit him +out!' + +Jendrek was looking for a stone, but his parents, taking notice of the +man's deathly pallor and his sunken eyes for the first time, restrained +him. + +'Maybe they have poisoned him too,' whispered Slimakowa. + +Slimak shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to make of it. + +He began to question Maciek: Had anything happened in his absence? + +Slowly and with difficulty, but concealing nothing, Maciek told his +story. + +'Of course they gave me some filthy stuff, and then they made off with +the horses,' he added, sobbing. + +But instead of taking pity on him, Slimak burst out afresh: + +'What? you took drink from strangers and never told me anything about +it?' + +'Why should I have bothered you, gospodarz, when you were a little bit +screwed yourself?' + +'What's that to do with you?' bawled Slimak, 'dogs have no right to +notice whether one is drunk or not, they have to be all the more +watchful when one is! You are a thief like the others, only you are +worse. I took you in when you were starving, and you've robbed me in +return.' + +'Don't talk like that,' groaned Maciek, crawling to Slimak's feet, 'I +have saved a few roubles from my wages, and there is my little chest +and a bit of sheepskin and my sukmana; take it all, but don't say I +robbed you. Your dog has not been more faithful, and they have poisoned +him too.' + +'Don't bother me,' cried Slimak, thrusting him aside, 'the fellow +offers me his wages and his box when the horses were worth twenty-eight +roubles. + +I haven't taken twenty-eight roubles the whole year. If you were my own +son I wouldn't let you off; neither of the boys have ever cost me as +much.' + +His anger overcame him, he beat himself with his clenched fists. + +'Find the horses,' he cried, 'or I will give you in charge, go where +you like, look where you like, but don't show your face here without +them or one of us will die! I loathe you. Take that bastard or we will +let it starve, and be off!' + +'I will find the horses,' said Maciek, and drew his old sheepskin round +him with trembling hands; 'perhaps God will help me.' + +'The devil will help you, you low scoundrel,' said Slimak, and turned +away. + +'And leave your box,' added Jendrek. + +'He has paid us out for our kindness,' whimpered Slimakowa, wiping her +eyes. They went into the house. + +Not one of them had a kind glance to spare for Maciek, although he was +leaving them forever. + +Slowly and painfully he wrapped the child up in an old bit of a shirt +and a shawl, fastened his belt round himself and looked for a stick. + +His head was aching as if he were going through a severe illness; he +was unable to reason out the situation. He felt no resentment towards +Slimak for having beaten him and driven him away; the gospodarz was in +the right, of course; neither was he afraid of having no roof over his +head; people like him never had any roof of their own; he was not +thinking of the future. Another thought was torturing him...the horses. +For Slimak the horses were part of his working machinery, for Maciek +they were friends and brothers. Who but they in the whole world had +longed for him, had greeted him heartily when he returned, or looked +after him when he went out? No one but Wojtek and Kasztan. For years +they had shared hardships together. Now they were gone, perhaps led +away into misery, through his, Maciek's, fault. + +He fancied he heard them neighing. They were becoming sensible of what +was happening to them and were calling to him for help! + +'I am coming, I am coming,' he muttered, took the child on his arm, +seized the stick and limped forth. He did not look round, he would see +the gospodarstwo again when he came back with the horses. + +He saw Burek lying stark behind the barn, but he had no thought to +spare for him; he peered for the traces of the horses' feet. There they +were, stamped into the snow as into wax; Kasztan's large feet and the +broken hoof of Wojtek; here the thieves had mounted and ridden off at a +slow trot. How bold, how sure of themselves they had been! But Maciek +will find you! The peasant rancour in him had been awakened. If you +escape to the end of the world he will pursue you; if you dig +yourselves into the ground he will dig you out with his hands; if you +escape to Heaven he will stand at the gate and importune the saints +until they fly all over the universe and give him back the horses! + +On the highroad the tracks became less distinct, but they were still +recognizable. Maciek could read the whole history of the peregrination +in them. Here Kasztan had been startled and had shied; here the thief +had dismounted and altered Wojtek's bridle. What gentlemen they were, +these thieves, they came stealing in new boots, such as no gentleman +need have been ashamed of! + +Near the church the tracks became confused and, what was worse, +divided. Kasztan had been ridden to the right and Wojtek to the left. +After reflecting for a moment, Maciek followed the latter track, +possibly because it was clearer, but most likely because he loved that +little horse the best. About noon he found himself near the village +where Magda's uncle, the Soltys Grochowski, lived. He turned in there, +hoping for a bite of food; he was hungry and the little girl was +crying. + +Grochowski was at home and in the middle of receiving a sound rating +from his wife for no particular reason but just for the pleasure of it. +The huge man was sitting on the bench by the wall, with one arm on the +table and the other on the window-sill, listening with an expression of +fixed attention to his wife's homilies; this attention was, however, +assumed, for whenever she buried her head among the pots and pans on +the stove he yawned and stretched himself, pulling a face as if the +conversation had long been distasteful to him. + +As his wife was in the habit of relenting before strangers, so as not +to prejudice his office, Grochowski hailed Maciek's arrival gladly, and +ordered food for him and milk for the little girl, adding cold meat and +vodka to the repast when he heard the news that Slimak's horses had +been stolen and that Maciek was applying to him for advice. He even +talked of drawing up a statement, but the necessary implements were not +at hand. So he drew Maciek into the alcove for a long, whispered +conversation, the upshot of which was that they must proceed with +caution upon the track of the thieves, as certain strong influences +tied Grochowski's hands until he had clearer evidence. Maciek was also +given to understand why Jasiek Gryb had entertained the gospodarz and +his family so liberally, and Grochowski even seemed to know the man who +had presented Maciek with the monks' cordial and said that the woman in +the sledge was not a woman at all. + +'I will do whatever you tell me, Soltys,' said Maciek, embracing his +knees, 'even if you should send me to my death.' + +'It is no use tracking near here,' said the Soltys, 'we know all about +that, but it would be useful to know where the other track leads to. +Follow that as far as you can, and if you find any clue let me know at +once. You ought to be back here by to-morrow.' + +'And shall we find the horses?' + +'We shall find them even if we had to drag them out of the thieves' +bowels,' said the Soltys, looking fierce. + +It was about two o'clock when Maciek was ready to start. The Soltys +hinted that the child had better be left behind, but his wife was so +angry at the suggestion that he desisted. So Maciek tied her up again +in the old bits of clothing and went his way. + +He easily found Kasztan's tracks on the highroad and followed them for +an hour, when he thought that he must be nearing the thieves' quarters, +for the tracks had been covered up, and finally led into the ravines. +The frost was pinching harder and harder, but the breathless man +scarcely noticed the cold. From time to time clouds flew over the sky +and snow drifted along the ground in gusts; Maciek searched all the +more eagerly, so as not to miss the track before it should be covered +with fresh drifts. On and on he walked, never even noticing that +darkness was coming on and the snow was falling faster. + +Now and then he would sit down for a moment, too tired to go on, but he +jumped up again, for he fancied he heard Kasztan neighing. Probably it +was his aching head that produced these sounds, but at last they became +so loud that he left the track and cut right across the hill in the +direction from which they seemed to proceed. With his last remaining +strength he struggled with the bushes, fell, scrambled to his feet, and +continued. Then the neighing ceased and he found that he was in the +ravines, knee-deep in snow, and night-was falling. + +With difficulty he dragged himself on to a knoll to see where he was. +He could see nothing but snow--snow to the right and to the left, here +and there intercepted by bushes, the last streak of light had faded +from the sky. + +He tried to descend; in one place the slope was too steep, in another +there were too many bushes; at last he decided on an easier place and +put his stick forward; it gave way, and he fell after it for several +yards. It was fortunate that the snow lay waist-deep in this spot. + +The frightened child began its low sobbing, it had always been too weak +to cry heartily. Fear was knocking at Maciek's heart. + +'Surely, I can't have lost my way?' he thought, 'these are our ravines +that I know so well, yet I don't see my way out of them.' + +He started walking again, alternately in low and deep snow, until he +came upon a place that had been trodden down recently. He knelt down +and felt the tracks with his hands. They were his own footprints. + +'Dear me! I've been going round in a circle,' he muttered, and tried +another corridor of ravines which presently led him to the place where +he had slid down the hill. He fancied he heard murmurings overhead and +looked up, but it was only the rustling of the bushes. The wind had +sprung up on the hillside and was driving before it clouds of fine snow +which stung his face and hands like gnats. + +'Can it be that my hour has come?' he thought; 'No, no,' he whispered, +'not till I have found the horses, else they will take me for a thief.' +He wrapped the child more closely in the coverings; she had fallen +asleep in spite of shaking and discomfort; he walked about aimlessly, +so as to keep moving. + +'I won't be a fool and sit down,' he muttered, 'if I sit down I shall +be frozen, and the thieves will keep the horses.' + +The hard snow fell faster and faster, whitening Maciek from head to +foot; the wind swept along the top of the hills, and as he listened to +it, the man was glad that he had not been caught in the open. + +'It's quite warm here,' he said, 'but all the same I'm not going to sit +down, I must keep on walking till the morning.' + +But it was not yet midnight and Maciek's legs began to refuse +obedience, he could no longer push away the snow with his feet; he +stopped and stamped, but that was even more tiring; he leant against +the sides of the little cavity. The spot was excellent; it was raised +above the ravine, and the little hollow was just large enough to hold a +man; bushes sheltered it against the snow on all sides. But the +crowning advantage was a jutting piece of rock, about the size of a +stool. + +'No, I won't sit down,' he determined, 'I know I should get +frozen.... It's true,' he added after a while, 'it would not do to go +to sleep, but it can't hurt to sit down for a bit.' + +He boldly sat down, drew his cap over his ears and the clothes round +the sleeping child, and decided that he would alternately rest and +stamp, and so await the morning. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep,' he kept on reminding himself. He +fancied the air was getting a little warmer and his feet were thawing. +Instead of the cold he felt ants creeping under the soles of his feet. +They crept in among his toes, swarmed over his injured leg, then over +the other, and reached his knees. In a mysterious way one had suddenly +settled on his nose; he wanted to flick it off, but a whole swarm was +sitting on his arms. He decided not to drive them away, for in the +first place they were keeping him awake, and then he rather liked them. +He smiled, as one reached his waist, and did not ask how they came to +be there. It was not surprising that there should be ant-hills in the +ravines, and he forgot that it was winter. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep...so long as I don't go to sleep....' +But at last he asked himself 'Why am I not to go to sleep? It's night +and I am in the stable? The thieves might be coming, that's it!' + +He grasped his stick more firmly; whispers seemed to be stirring all +round. + +'Oho! they are opening the stable door, there is the snow, this time I +will give it to them....' + +The thieves must have found out that he was on the watch this time and +made off. Maciek laughed; now he could go to sleep. He straightened his +back, pressed the little girl close. + +'Just a moment's sleep,' he reminded himself, 'I've something to do, +but what is it? Ploughing? no, that's done. Water the horses.. the +horses....' + +After midnight the moon dispersed the clouds and the new moon peeped +out and looked straight into the sleeper's face: but the man did not +move. Fresh clouds came up and hid the moon, yet he did not move. He +sat in the hollow of the hill, his head leaning against its side, the +child clasped to his breast. + +At last the sun rose, but even then he did not move. He seemed to be +gazing in astonishment at the railway line, not more than twenty steps +away from his resting place. + +The sun was high when a signalman came along the permanent way. He +caught sight of the sleeper and shouted, but there was no answer, and +the man approached. + +'Heh, father! have you been drinking?' he called out, as he went round +the hollow at a distance. At last, hardly believing his eyes, he went +up to the silent sitter and touched his hand. + +Maciek's and the child's faces were hard, as if they had been cast in +wax, hoarfrost lay on his lashes, and frozen moisture stood on the +child's lips. The signalman's arms dropped in astonishment; he wanted +to call for help, but remembered that no one would hear him. He turned +and ran at full speed to the Soltys' office. + +In the course of an hour or two a sledge with some men arrived to +remove the bodies. But Maciek's was frozen so hard that it was +impossible to open his arms or straighten his legs, so they put him in +the sledge as he was. He went for his last drive with the child on his +knees, his head resting against the rail, and his face turned upwards, +as though he had done with human reckoning and was recounting his +wrongs to his Creator. + +When the mournful procession stopped, a small crowd of peasants, women, +and Jews gathered in front of the Wojt's office. The Wojt, his clerk, +and Grochowski were standing together. A shudder of remorse seized the +latter, he guessed who the man and child were that had been found, +frozen to death. He explained to the crowd what Maciek had told him. + +When he had finished, the men turned away, the women groaned, the Jews +spat on the ground; only Jasiek, the son of the rich peasant Gryb, +lighted an expensive cigar and smiled. He put his hands in the pockets +of his sheepskin coat, stuck out first one foot, then the other, to +display his elegant top-boots that reached above his knees, sucked his +cigar, and continued to smile. The men looked at him with aversion, but +the women, although shocked, did not think him repulsive. Was he not a +tall, broadshouldered, graceful lad, with a complexion like milk and +blood, and eyes the colour of a bluebottle, and did he not trim his +moustaches and beard like a nobleman? It was a pity he was not a +foreman with plenty of opportunities of ordering the girls about! The +men, however, were whispering among themselves that he was a scoundrel +who would come to a bad end. + +'Certainly it was wrong of Slimak to send the poor wretch away in such +weather,' said the Wojt. + +'It was a shame,' murmured the women. + +'It's only natural he should be angry when his horses had been stolen,' +said one of the men. + +'Driving him away did not bring the horses back, and he will have the +two poor souls on his conscience till he dies,' cried an old woman. + +Grochowski was seized with shuddering again. + +'It was not so much that Slimak drove him away, but that he himself was +anxious to go,' he said quickly, 'he wanted to track the thieves;' here +he gave a quick glance at Jasiek, who returned it insolently, and +observed that horse-thieves were sharp, and more people might meet +their death in tracking them. + +'They may find that there is a limit to it,' said Grochowski. + +The policeman now proceeded to examine the corpses, and the Wojt was +standing by with a wry face, as if he had bitten on a peppercorn. + +'We must drive them to the district police-court,' he said; 'Stojka,' +turning to the owner of the sledge, 'drive on, we will overtake you +presently. This is the first time that any one in this parish has ever +been frozen to death.' + +Stojka demurred and scratched his head, but he took up the reins and +lashed the horses; after all, it was only a few versts, and one need +not look much at the passengers. He walked by the side of the sledge +and Grochowski and a man who was to make closer acquaintance with the +police-court, for spoiling his neighbour's bucket, went with him. + +It so happened that, just as the Wojt was dispatching the bodies to the +police-court, the police officer was sending 'Silly Zoska' back to her +native village. A few months after leaving her child in Maciek's care +she had been arrested; the reason was unknown to her. As a matter of +fact she had been accused of begging, vagrancy, and attempted arson. +After the discovery of each new crime, they had taken her from police- +station to prison, from prison to infirmary, from infirmary to another +prison, and so on for a whole year. + +During her peregrinations Zoska had behaved with complete indifference; +when she was taken to a new place she would worry at first whether she +would find work. After that she became apathetic and slept the greater +part of the time, on her plank bed, or waiting in corridors and +prison-yards. It was all the same to her. At times she began to long for +freedom and her child, and then she fell into accesses of fury. Now +they were sending her back under escort of two peasants; one carried +the papers relating to her case, and the other had come to keep him +company. She had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other, a +sukmana in holes, and a handkerchief like a sieve on her head. She +walked quickly in front of the men, as if she were in a hurry to get +back, yet neither the familiar neighbourhood nor the hard frost seemed +to make any impression on her. When the men called out: 'Heh! not so +fast!' she stood as still as a post, and waited till they told her to +go on. + +'She's quite daft!' said one. + +'She's always been like that,' said the other, who had known her a long +time, 'yet she's not bad at rough work.' + +A few versts from the village, where the chimneys peeped out from +beyond the snowy hills, they came upon the little cortege. The +attendants, noticing something unusual in the look of it, stopped and +talked to the Soltys. + +'Look, Zoska,' said the latter to the woman who was standing by +indifferently, 'that is your little girl.' + +She approached without seeming to understand; slowly, however, her face +acquired a human expression. + +'What's fallen upon them?' + +'They have been frozen.' + +'Why have they been frozen?' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house.' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house?' she repeated, fingering the +bodies, 'yes, that's my little girl, she's grown a bit; whoever heard +of a child being frozen to death?... she was meant to come to a bad +end. As God loves me, yes, that's my girl, my little girl--they've +murdered her; look at her!' she suddenly became animated. + +'Drive on,' said the Soltys, 'we must be getting on.' + +The horses started, Zoska tried to get into the sledge. + +'What are you doing?' cried her attendants, pulling her back. + +'That's my little girl!' cried Zoska, holding on. + +'What if she is yours?' said the Soltys, 'there's one road for you and +another for her.' + +'She's my little girl, mine!' With both hands the woman held on to the +sledge, but the peasant whipped up the horses and she fell to the +ground; she grasped the runners and was dragged along for several +yards. + +'Don't behave like a lunatic,' cried the men, detaching her with +difficulty from the fast-moving sledge; she would have run after it, +but one of them knelt on her feet and the other held her by the +shoulders. + +'She's my little girl; Slimak has let her freeze to death.... God +punish him, may he freeze to death himself!' she screamed. + +Gradually, as the sledge moved away, she calmed down, her livid face +assumed its copper colour, and her eyes became dull. She fell back into +her old apathy. + +'She's forgotten all about it,' said one of her companions. + +'These lunatics are often happier than other people,' answered the +friend. Then they walked on in silence. Nothing was heard but the +creaking snow under their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The loss of his horses had almost driven Slimak crazy. Beating Maciek +and kicking him out had not exhausted his anger. He felt the room +oppressive, walked out into the yard and ran up and down with clenched +fists and bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance to vent his temper. + +He remembered that he ought to feed the cows and went into the stable, +where he pushed the animals about, and when one clumsily trod on his +foot, he seized a fork and beat her mercilessly. He kicked Burek's body +behind the barn. 'You damned dog, if you had not taken bread from +strangers, I should still have my horses!' + +He returned to the room and threw himself on the bench with such +violence that he upset the block for wood-chopping. Jendrek laughed, +but his father unbuckled his belt and did not stop beating him till the +boy crept, bleeding, under the bench. With the belt in his hand Slimak +waited for his wife to make a remark. But she remained silent, only +holding on to the chimney-piece for support. + +'What makes you stagger? Haven't you got over yesterday's vodka?' + +'Something's wrong with me,' she answered low. + +He decided to strap on his belt. 'What's wrong?' + +'I can't see, and there's a noise in my ears. Is any one whistling?' + +'Don't drink vodka and you'll hear no noises,' he said, spitting, and +went out. It surprised him that she had made no remark after the +thrashing he had given Jendrek, and having no one to beat, he seized an +axe and chopped wood until nightfall, eating nothing all day. Logs and +splinters fell round him, he felt as if he were revenging himself on +his enemies, and when he left off, stiff and tired, his shirt soaked +with perspiration, his anger had gone from him. + +He was surprised to find no one in the room and peeped into the alcove; +Slimakowa was lying on the bed. + +'What's the matter' + +'I'm not well, but it's nothing.' + +'The fire has gone out.' + +'Out?' she asked vaguely, raising herself. She got up and lighted the +fire with difficulty, her husband watching her. + +'You see,' he said presently, 'you got hot yesterday and then you would +drink water out of the Jew's pewter pot and unbutton your jacket. You +have caught cold.' + +'It's nothing,' she said ill-humouredly, pulled herself together and +warmed up the supper. Jendrek crept out and took a spoon, but cried +instead of eating. + +During the night, at about the hour when the unhappy Maciek was drawing +his last breath in the ravines, Slimakowa was seized with violent fits +of shivering. Slimak covered her with his sheepskin and it passed off. +She got up in the morning, and although she complained of pains, she +went about her work. Slimak was depressed. + +Towards evening a sledge stopped at the gate and the innkeeper Josel +entered with a strange expression on his face. Slimak's conscience +pricked him. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Josel. + +'In Eternity.' + +A silence ensued. + +'You have nothing to ask?' said the Jew. + +'What should I have to ask?' Slimak looked into his eyes and +involuntarily grew pale. + +'To-morrow,' Josel said slowly, 'to-morrow Jendrek's trial is coming on +for violence to Hermann.' + +'They'll do nothing to him.' + +'I expect he will have to sit in jail for a bit.' + +'Then let him sit, it will cure him of fighting.' + +Again silence fell. The Jew shook his head; Slimak's alarm grew. + +He screwed up his courage at last and asked: 'What else?' + +'What's the use of making many words?' said the Jew, holding up his +hands, 'Maciek and the child have been frozen to death.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet and looked for something to throw at the Jew, +but staggered and held on to the wall. A hot wave rushed over him, his +legs shook. Then he wondered why he should have been seized with fear +like this. + +'Where...when?' + +'In the ravines close to the railway line.' + +'But when?' + +'You know quite well that it was yesterday when you drove them out.' +Slimak's anger was rising. + +'As I live! the Jew is a liar! Frozen to death? What did he go to the +ravines for? are there no cottages in the world?' + +The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders and got up. + +'You can believe it or not, it's all the same to me, but I myself saw +them being driven to the police-station.' + +'Ah well! What harm can they do to me, because Maciek has been frozen?' + +'Perhaps men can't do you harm, but, man, before God! or don't you +believe in God?' the Jew asked from the other side of the door, his +burning eyes fixed on Slimak. + +The peasant stood still and listened to his heavy tread down to the +gate and to the sound of his departing sledge. He shook himself, turned +round and met Jendrek's eyes looking fixedly at him from the far +corner. + +'Why should I be to blame?' he muttered. Suddenly an annual sermon, +preached by an old priest, flashed through his mind; he seemed to hear +the peculiar cadence of his voice as he said: 'I was an hungered and ye +gave me no meat.... I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'By God, the Jew is lying,' he exclaimed. These words seemed to break +the spell; he felt sure Maciek and the child were alive, and he almost +went out to call them in to supper. + +'A low Jew, that Josel,' he said to his wife, while he covered her +again with the sheepskin, when her shivering-fits returned. Nothing +should induce him to believe that story. + +Next day the village Soltys drove up with the summons for Jendrek. + +'His trial does not come on till to-morrow,' he said, 'but as I was +driving that way, I thought he might as well come with me.' + +Jendrek grew pale and silently put on his new sukmana and sheepskin. + +'What will they do to him?' his father asked peevishly. + +'Eh! I dare say he'll get a few days, perhaps a week.' + +Slimak slowly pulled a rouble out of a little packet. + +'And...Soltys, have you heard what the accursed Jew has been saying +about Maciek and the child being frozen to death?' + +'How shouldn't I have heard?' said the Soltys, reluctantly; 'it's +true.' + +'Frozen...frozen?' + +'Yes, of course. But,' he added, 'every one understands that it's not +your fault. He didn't look after the horses and you discharged him. No +one told him to go down into the ravines. + +He must have been drunk. The poor wretch died through his own +stupidity.' + +Jendrek was ready to start, and embraced his parents' knees. Slimak +gave him the rouble, tears came into his eyes; his mother, however, +showed no sign of interest. + +'Jagna,' Slimak said with concern, 'Jendrek is going to his trial.' + +'What of that?' she answered with a delirious look. + +'Are you very ill?' + +'No, I'm only weak.' + +She went into the alcove and Slimak remained alone. The longer he sat +pondering the lower his head dropped on to his chest. Half dozing, he +fancied he was sitting on a wide, grey plain, no bushes, no grass, not +even stones were to be seen; there was nothing in front of him; but at +his side there was something he dared not look at. It was Maciek with +the child looking steadily at him. + +No, he would not look, he need not look! He need see nothing of him, +except a little bit of his sukmana...perhaps not even that! + +The thought of Maciek was becoming an obsession. He got up and began to +busy himself with the dishes. + +'What am I coming to? It doesn't do to give way!' + +He pulled himself together, fed the cattle, ran to the river for water. +It was so long since he had done these things that he felt rejuvenated, +and but for the thought of Maciek he would have been almost cheerful. + +His gloom returned with the dusk. It was the silence that tormented him +most. Nothing stirred but the mice behind the boards. The voice was +haunting him again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'It's all the fault of those scoundrel Swabians that everything is +going wrong with me,' he muttered, and began to count his losses on the +window-pane: 'Stasiek, that's one, the cow two, the horses four, +because the thieves did that out of spite for the hog, Burek five, +Jendrek six, Maciek and the child eight, and Magda had to leave, and my +wife is ill with worry, that makes ten. Lord Christ...!' + +Trembling seized him and he gripped his hair; he had never in his life +felt fear like this, though he had looked death in the face more than +once. He had suddenly caught a glimpse of the power the Germans were +exercising, and it scared him. They had destroyed all his life's work, +and yet you could not bring it home to them. They had lived like +others, ploughed, prayed, taught their children; you could not say they +were doing any wrong, and yet they had made his home desolate simply by +being there. They had blasted what was near them as smoke from a kiln +withers all green things. + +Not until this moment had the thought ever come to him: 'I am too close +to them! The gospodarstwos farther off do not suffer like this. What +good is the land, if the people on it die?' + +This new aspect was so horrible to him that he felt he must escape from +it; he glanced at his wife, she was asleep. The cadence of the priest's +voice began to haunt him again. + +Steps were approaching through the yard. The peasant straightened +himself. Could it be Jendrek? The door creaked. No, it was a strange +hand that groped along the wall in the darkness. He drew back, and his +head swam when the door opened and Zoska stood on the threshold. + +For a moment both stood silent, then Zoska said: + +'Be praised.' + +She began rubbing her hands over the fire. + +The idea of Maciek and the child and Zoska had become confused in +Slimak's mind; he looked at her as if she were an apparition from the +other world. 'Where do you come from?' His voice was choked. + +'They sent me back to the parish and told me to look out for work. They +said they wouldn't keep loafers.' + +Seeing the food in the saucepan, she began to lick her lips like a dog. + +'Pour out a basin of soup for yourself.' + +She did as she was told. + +'Don't you want a servant?' she asked presently. + +'I don't know; my wife is ill.' + +'There you are! It's quiet here. Where's Magda?' + +'Left.' + +'Jendrek?' + +'Sent up for trial.' + +'There you are! Stasiek?' + +'Drowned last summer,' he whispered, fearful lest Maciek's and the +little girl's turn should come next. + +But she ate greedily like a wild animal, and asked nothing further. + +'Does she know?' he thought. + +Zoska had finished and struck her hand cheerfully on her knee. He took +courage. + +'Can I stop the night?' + +Uneasiness seized him; any other guest would have been a blessing in +his solitude, but Zoska.... If she did not know the truth, what ill +wind had blown her here? And if she knew?...' + +He reflected. In the intense silence suddenly the priest's voice +started again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'All right, stop here, but you must sleep in this room.' + +'Or in the barn?' + +'No, here.' + +He hardly knew what it was that he feared; there was a vague sense of +misfortune in the air which was tormenting him. + +The fire died down. Zoska lay down on the bench in her rags and Slimak +went into the alcove. He sat on the bed, determined to be on the watch. +He did not know that this strange state of mind is called 'nerves'. Yet +a kind of relief had come in with Zoska; she had driven away the +spectre of Maciek and the child. But an iron ring was beginning to +press on his head. This was sleep, heavy sleep, the companion of great +anguish. He dreamt that he was split in two; one part of him was +sitting by his sick wife, the other was Maciek, standing outside the +window, where sunflowers bloomed in the summer. This new Maciek was +unlike the old one, he was gloomy and vindictive. + +'Don't believe,' said the strange guest, 'that I shall forgive you. +It's not so much that I got frozen, that might happen to anyone the +worse for drink, but you drove me away for no fault of mine after I had +served you so long. And what harm had the child done to you? Don't turn +away! Pass judgment on yourself for what you have done. God will not +let these wrongs be done and keep silent.' + +'What shall I say?' thought Slimak, bathed in perspiration. 'He is +telling the truth, I am a scoundrel. He shall fix the punishment, +perhaps he will get it over quickly.' + +His wife moved and he opened his eyes, but closed them again. A rosy +brightness filled the room, the frost glittered in flowers on the +window panes. 'Daylight?' he thought. + +No, it was not daylight, the rosy brightness trembled. A smell of +burning was heavy in the room. + +'Fire?' + +He looked into the room; Zoska had disappeared. + +'I knew it!' he exclaimed, and ran out into the yard. + +His house was indeed on fire; the roof towards the highroad was alight, +but owing to the thick layers of snow the flames spread but slowly; he +could still have saved the house, but he did not even think of this. + +'Get up, Jagna,' he cried, running back into the alcove, 'the house is +on fire!' + +'Leave me alone,' said the delirious woman, covering her head with the +sheepskin. He seized her and, stumbling over the threshold, carried her +into the shed, fetched her clothes and bedding, broke open the chest +and took out his money; finally he threw everything he could lay hands +on out of the window. Here was at least something tangible to fight. +The whole roof was now ablaze; smoke and flames were coming into the +room from the boarded ceiling. He was dragging the bench through the +brightly illuminated yard when he happened to look at the barn; he +stood petrified. Flames were licking at it, and there stood Zoska +shaking her clenched fist at him and shouting: 'That's my thanks to +you, Slimak, for taking care of my child, now you shall die as she +did!' + +She flew out of the yard and up the hill; he could see her by the light +of the fire, dancing and clapping her hands. + +'Fire, fire!' she shouted. + +Slimak reeled like a wild animal after the first shot. Then he slowly +went towards the barn and sat down, not thinking of seeking help. This +was the beginning of the divine punishment for the wrong he had done. + +'We shall all die!' he murmured. + +Both buildings were burning like pillars of fire, and in spite of the +frost Slimak felt hot in the shed. Suddenly shouts and clattering came +from the settlement; the Germans were coming to his assistance. Soon +the yard was swarming with them, men, women and children with hand- +fire-engines and buckets. They formed into groups, and at Fritz Hamer's +command began to pull down the burning masses and to put out the fire. +Laughing and emulating each other in daring, they went into the fire as +into a dance; some of the most venturesome climbed up the walls of the +burning buildings. Zoska approached once more from the side of the +ravines. + +'Never mind the Germans helping you, you will die all the same,' she +cried. + +'Who is that?' shouted the settlers, 'catch her!' + +But Zoska was too quick for them. + +'I suppose it was she who set fire to your house?' asked Fritz. + +'No one else but she.' + +Fritz was silent for a moment. + +'It would be better for you to sell us the land.' + +The peasant hung his head.... + +The barn could not be saved, but the walls of the cottage were still +standing; some of the people were busy putting out the fire, others +surrounded the sick woman. + +'What are you going to do?' Fritz began again. + +'We will live in the stable.' + +The women whispered that they had better be taken to the settlement, +but the men shook their heads, saying the woman might be infectious. +Fritz inclined to this opinion and ordered her to be well wrapped up +and taken into the stable. + +'We will send you what you need,' he said. + +'God reward you,' said Slimak, embracing his knees. + +Fritz took Hermann aside. + +'Drive full speed to Wolka,' he said, 'and fetch miller Knap; we may be +able to settle this affair to-night.' + +'It's high time we did,' replied the other, audibly, 'we shan't hold +out till the spring unless we do.' + +Fritz swore. + +Nevertheless, he took leave benevolently. Bending over the sick woman +he said: 'She is quite unconscious.' + +But in a strangely decided voice she ejaculated: 'Ah! unconscious!' + +He drew back in confusion. 'She is delirious,' he said. + +At daybreak the Germans brought the promised help, but Slimak paced +backwards and forwards among the ruins of his homestead, from which the +smell of smouldering embers rose pungently. He looked at his household +goods, tumbled into the yard. How many times had he sat on that bench +and cut notches and crosses into it when a boy. That heap of +smouldering ruins represented his storehouse and the year's crop. How +small the cottage looked now that it was reduced to walls, and how +large the chimney! He took out his money, hid it under a heap of dry +manure in the stable and strolled about again. Up the hill he went, +with a feeling that they were talking about him in the village and +would come to his help. But there was no one to be seen on the +boundless covering of snow; here and there smoke rose from the +cottages. + +His imagination, keener than usual, conjured up old pictures. He +fancied he was harrowing on the hill with the two chestnuts who were +whisking their tails under his nose; the sparrows were twittering, +Stasiek gazing into the river; by the bridge his wife was beating the +linen, he could hear the resounding smacks, while the squire's +brother-in-law was wildly galloping up and down the valley. Jendrek and +Magda were answering each other in snatches of songs.... + +Suddenly he was awakened from his dreams by the stench of his burnt +cottage; he looked up, and everything he saw became abominable to him. +The frozen river, into which his child would never gaze again; the +empty, hideous homestead; he longed to escape from it all and go far +away and forget Stasiek and Maciek and the whole accursed gospodarstwo. +He could buy land more cheaply elsewhere with the money he would get +from the Germans. What was the good of the land if it was ruining the +people on it? + +He went into the stable and lay down near his wife, who was moaning +deliriously, and soon fell asleep. + +At noon old Hamer appeared, accompanied by a German woman who carried +two bowls of hot soup. He stood over Slimak and poked him with his +stick. + +'Hey, get up!' + +Slimak roused himself and looked about heavily; seeing the hot food he +ate greedily. Hamer sat down in the doorway, smoking his pipe and +watching Slimak; he nodded contentedly to himself. + +'I've been down to the village to ask Gryb and the other gospodarze to +come and help you, for that is a Christian duty....' + +He waited for the peasant's thanks, but Slimak went on eating and did +not look at him. + +'I told them they ought to take you in; but they said, God was +punishing you for the death of the labourer and the child and they +didn't wish to interfere. They are no Christians.' + +Slimak had finished eating, but he remained silent. + +'Well, what are you going to do?' + +Slimak wiped his mouth and said: 'I shall sell.' Hamer poked his pipe +with deliberation. + +'To whom?' + +'To you.' + +Hamer again busied himself with his pipe. + +'All right! I am willing to buy, as you have fallen upon bad times. But +I can only give you seventy roubles.' + +'You were giving a hundred not long ago.' + +'Why didn't you take it?' + +'That's true, why didn't I take it? Everyone profits as he can.' + +'Have you never tried to profit?' + +'I have.' + +'Then will you take it?' + +'Why shouldn't I take it?' + +'We will settle the matter at my house to-night.' + +'The sooner the better.' + +'Well, since it is so,' Hamer added after a while, 'I will give you +seventy-five roubles, and you shan't be left to die here. You and your +wife can come to the school; you can spend the winter with us and I +will give you the same pay as my own farm-labourers.' + +Slimak winced at the word 'farm-labourer', but he said nothing. + +'And your gospodarze,' concluded Hamer, 'are brutes. They will do +nothing for you.' + +Before sunset a sledge conveyed the unconscious woman to the +settlement. Slimak remained, recovered his money from under the manure, +collected a few possessions and milked the cows. + +The dumb animals looked reproachfully at him and seemed to ask: 'Are +you sure you have done the best you could, gospodarz?' + +'What am I to do?' he returned, 'the place is unlucky, it is bewitched. +Perhaps the Germans can take the spell away, I can't.' + +He felt as if his feet were being held to the ground, but he spat at +it. 'Much I have to be thankful to you for! Barren land, far from +everybody so that thieves may profit!' He would not look back. + +On the way he met two German farm-labourers, who had come to spend the +night in the stable; as he passed them, they laughed. + +'Catch me spending the winter with you scoundrels! I'm off directly the +wife is well and the boy out of jail.' + +A black shadow detached itself from the gate when he reached the +settlement, 'Is that you, schoolmaster?' + +'Yes. So you have consented after all to sell your land?' + +Slimak was silent. + +'Perhaps it's the best thing you can do. If you can't make much of it +yourself, at least you can save others.' He looked round and lowered +his voice. 'But mind you bargain well, for you are doing them a good +turn. Miller Knap will pay cash down as soon as the contract has been +signed and give his daughter to Wilhelm. Otherwise Hirschgold will turn +the Hamers out at midsummer and sell the land to Gryb. They have a +heavy contract with the Jew.' + +'What? Gryb would buy the settlement?' + +'Indeed he would. He is anxious to settle his son too, and Josel has +been sniffing round for a month past. So there's your chance, bargain +well.' + +'Why, damn it,' said Slimak, 'I would rather have a hundred Germans +than that old Judas.' + +A door creaked and the schoolmaster changed the conversation. 'Come +this way, your wife is in the schoolroom.' + +'Is that Slimak?' Fritz called out. + +'It is I.' + +'Don't stay long with your wife, she is being looked after, and we want +you at daybreak; you must sleep in the kitchen.' + +The noise of loud conversation and clinking of glasses came from the +back of the house, but the large schoolroom was empty, and only lighted +by a small lamp. His wife was lying on a plank bed; a pungent smell of +vinegar pervaded the room. That smell took the heart out of Slimak; +surely his wife must be very ill! He stood over her; her eye-lashes +twitched and she looked steadily at him. + +'Is it you, Josef?' + +'Who else should it be?' + +Her hands moved about restlessly on the sheepskin; she said distinctly: +'What are you doing, Josef, what are you doing?' + +'You see I am standing here.' + +'Ah yes, you are standing there...but what are you doing? I know +everything, never fear!' + +'Go away, gospodarz,' hurriedly cried the old woman, pushing him +towards the door, 'she is getting excited, it isn't good for her.' + +'Josef!' cried Slimakowa, 'come back! Josef, I must speak to you!' The +peasant hesitated. + +'You are doing no good,' whispered the schoolmaster, 'she is rambling, +she may go to sleep when you are out of sight.' + +He drew Slimak into the passage, and Fritz Hamer at once took him to +the further room. + +Miller Knap and old Hamer were sitting at a brightly lighted table +behind their beer mugs, blowing clouds of smoke from their pipes. The +miller had the appearance of a huge sack of flour as he sat there in +his shirtsleeves, holding a full pot of beer in his hand and wiping the +perspiration off his forehead. Gold studs glittered in his shirt. + +'Well, you are going to let us have your land at last?' he shouted. + +'I don't know,' said the peasant in a low voice, 'maybe I shall sell +it.' The miller roared with laughter. + +'Wilhelm,' he bellowed, as if Wilhelm, who was officiating at the +beer-barrel on the bench, were half a mile off, 'pour out some beer for +this man. Drink to my health and I'll drink to yours, although you +never used to bring me your corn to grind. But why didn't you sell us +your land before?' + +'I don't know,' said the peasant, taking a long pull. + +'Fill up his glass,' shouted the miller, 'I will tell you why; it's +because you don't know your own mind. Determination is what you want. +I've said to myself: I will have a mill at Wolka, and a mill at Wolka I +have, although the Jews twice set fire to it. I said: My son shall be a +doctor, and a doctor he will be. And now I've said: Hamer, your son +must have a windmill, so he must have a windmill. Pour out another +glass, Wilhelm, good beer...eh? my son-in-law brews it. What? no more +beer? Then we'll go to bed.' + +Fritz pushed Slimak into the kitchen, where one of the farm-hands was +asleep already. He felt stupefied; whether it was with the beer or with +Knap's noisy conversation, he could not tell. He sat down on his plank +bed and felt cheerful. The noise of conversation in German reached him +from the adjoining room; then the Hamers left the house. Miller Knap +stamped about the room for a while; presently his thick voice repeated +the Lord's prayer while he was pulling off his boots and throwing them +into a corner: 'Amen amen,' he concluded, and flung himself heavily +upon the bed; a few moments later noises as if he were being throttled +and murdered proclaimed that he was asleep. + +The moon was throwing a feeble light through the small squares of the +window. + +Between waking and sleeping Slimak continued to meditate: 'Why +shouldn't I sell? It's better to buy fifteen acres of land elsewhere, +than to stay and have Jasiek Gryb as a neighbour. The sooner I sell, +the better.' He got up as if he wished to settle the matter at once, +laughed quietly to himself and felt more and more intoxicated. + +Then he saw a human shadow outlined against the window pane; someone +was trying to look into the room. The peasant approached the window and +became sober. He ran into the passage and pulled the door open with +trembling hands. Frosty air fanned his face. His wife was standing +outside, still trying to look through the window. + +'Jagna, for God's sake, what are you doing here? Who dressed you?' + +'I dressed myself, but I couldn't manage my boots, they are quite +crooked. Come home,' she said, drawing him by the hand. + +'Where, home? Are you so ill that you don't know our home is burnt +down? Where will you go on a bitter night like this?' + +Hamer's mastiffs were beginning to growl. Slimakowa hung on her +husband's arm. 'Come home, come home,' she urged stubbornly, 'I will +not die in a strange house, I am a gospodyni, I will not stay here with +the Swabians. The priests would not even sprinkle holy water on my +coffin.' + +She pulled him and he went; the dogs went after them for a while +snapping at their clothes; they made straight for the frozen river, so +as to reach their own nest the sooner. On the riverbank they stopped +for a moment, the tired woman was out of breath. + +'You have let yourself be tempted by the Germans to sell them your +land! You think I don't know. Perhaps you will say it is not true?' she +cried, looking wildly into his eyes. He hung his head. + +'You traitor, you son of a dog!' she burst out. 'Sell your land! You +would sell the Lord Jesus to the Jews! Tired of being a gospodarz, are +you? What is Jendrek to do? And is a gospodyni to die in a stranger's +house?' + +She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' +she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! +Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if +you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after +death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and +open them again...listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you +sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn +to blood in your mouth.' + +'Jesus!' whispered the man. + +'...Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a +spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.' + +'Jesus...Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his +ears. + +'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He +shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on +filthy litter?' + +'Not though I had to draw...so help me God!' + +The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and +reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed. + +'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared. + +'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.' + +They demurred and he kicked them both out. They went off, cursing and +threatening him. + +Slimak laid his wife down on the warm litter and strolled about the +yard, thinking that he must presently fetch help for her and a doctor. +Now and then he looked into the stable; she seemed to be sleeping +quietly. Her great peacefulness began to strike him, his head was +swimming, he heard noises in his ears; he knelt down and pulled her by +the hand; she was dead, even cold. + +'Now I don't care if I go to the devil,' he said, raked some straw into +a corner and was asleep within a few minutes. + +It was afternoon when he was at last awakened by old Sobieska. + +'Get up, Slimak! your wife is dead! God's faith! dead as a stone.' + +'How can I help it?' said the peasant, turning over and drawing his +sheepskin over his head. + +'But you must buy a coffin and notify the parish.' + +'Let anyone who cares do that.' + +'Who will do it? In the village they say it's God's punishment on you. +And won't the Germans take it out of you! That fat man has quarrelled +with them. Josel says you are now reaping the benefit of selling your +fowls: he threatened me if I came here to see you. Get up now!' + +'Let me be or I'll kick you!' + +'You godless man, is your wife to lie there without Christian burial?' +He advanced his boot so vehemently that the old woman ran screaming out +along the highroad. + +Slimak pushed to the door and lay down again. A hard +peasant-stubbornness had seized him. He was certain that he was past +salvation. He neither accused himself nor regretted anything; he only +wanted to be left to sleep eternally. Divine pity could have saved him, +but he no longer believed in divine pity, and no human hand would do so +much as give him a cup of water. + +While the sound of the evening-bells floated through the air, and the +women in the cottages whispered the Angelus, a bent figure approached +the gospodarstwo, a sack on his back, a stick in his hand; the glory of +the setting sun surrounded him. Such as these are the 'angels' which +the Lord sends to people in the extremity of their sorrow. + +It was Jonah Niedoperz, the oldest and poorest Jew in the +neighbourhood; he traded in everything and never had any money to keep +his large family, with whom he lived in a half-ruined cottage with +broken windowpanes. Jonah was on his way to the village and was +meditating deeply. Would he get a job there? would he live to have a +dinner of pike on the Sabbath? would his little grandchildren ever have +two shirts to their backs? + +'Aj waj!' he muttered, 'and they even took the three roubles from me!' +He had never forgotten that robbery in the autumn, for it was the +largest sum he had ever possessed. + +His glance fell on the burnt homestead. Good God! if such a thing +should ever befall the cottage where his wife and daughters, +sons-in-law and grandchildren lived! His emotion grew when he heard the +cows lowing miserably. He approached the stable. + +'Slimak! My good lady gospodyni!' he cried, tapping at the door. He was +afraid to open it lest he should be suspected of prying into other +people's business. + +'Who is that?' asked Slimak. + +'It's only I, old Jonah,' he said, and peeped in, 'but what's wrong +with your honours?' he asked in astonishment. + +'My wife is dead.' 'Dead? how dead? what do you mean by such a joke? +Ajwaj! really-dead?' He looked attentively at her. + +'Such a good gospodyni...what a misfortune, God defend us! And you are +lying there and don't see about the funeral?' + +'There may as well be two,' murmured the peasant. + +'How two? are you ill?' + +'No.' + +The Jew shook his head and spat. 'It can't be like this; if you won't +move I will go and give notice; tell me what to do.' + +Slimak did not answer. The cows began to low again. + +'What is the matter with the cows?' the Jew asked interestedly. + +'I suppose they want water.' + +'Then why don't you water them?' + +No answer came. The Jew looked at Slimak and waited, then he tapped his +forehead. 'Where is the pail, gospodarz?' + +'Leave me alone.' + +But Jonah did not give in. He found the pail, ran to the ice-hole and +watered the cows; he had sympathy for cows, because he dreamt of +possessing one himself one day, or at least a goat. Then he put the +pail close to Slimak. He was exhausted with this unusually hard work. + +'Well, gospodarz, what is to happen now?' + +His pity touched Slimak, but failed to rouse him. He raised his head. +'If you should see Grochowski, tell him not to sell the land before +Jendrek is of age.' + +'But what am I to do now, when I get to the village?' + +Slimak had relapsed into silence. + +The Jew rested his chin in his hand and pondered for a while; at last +he took his bundle and stick and went off. The miserable old man's pity +was so strong that he forgot his own needs and only thought of saving +the other. Indeed, he was unable to distinguish between himself and his +fellow-creature, and he felt as if he himself were lying on the straw +beside his dead wife and must rouse himself at all costs. + +He went as fast as his old legs would carry him straight to Grochowski; +by the time he arrived it was dark. He knocked, but received no answer, +waited for a quarter of an hour and then walked round the house. +Despairing at last of making himself heard, he was just going to +depart, when Grochowski suddenly confronted him, as if the ground had +produced him. + +'What do you want, Jew?' asked the huge man, concealing some long +object behind his back. + +'What do I want?' quavered the frightened Jew, 'I have come straight +from Slimak's. Do you know that his house is burnt down, his wife is +dead, and he is lying beside her, out of his wits? He talks as if he +had a filthy idea in his head, and he hasn't even watered the cows.' + +'Listen, Jew,' said Grochowski fiercely, 'who told you to come here and +lie to me? is it those horse-stealers?' + +'What horse-stealers? I've come straight from Slimak....' + +'Lies! You won't draw me away from here, whatever you do.' + +The Jew now perceived that it was a gun which Grochowski was hiding +behind his back, and the sight so unnerved him that he nearly fell +down. He fled at full speed along the highroad. Even now, however, he +did not forget Slimak, but walked on towards the village to find the +priest. + +The priest had been in the parish for several years. He was middle-aged +and extremely good-looking, and possessed the education and manners of +a nobleman. He read more than any of his neighbours, hunted, was +sociable, and kept bees. Everybody spoke well of him, the nobility +because he was clever and fond of society, the Jews because he would +not allow them to be oppressed, the settlers because he entertained +their Pastors, the peasants because he renovated the church, conducted +the services with much pomp, preached beautiful sermons, and gave to +the poor. But in spite of this there was no intimate touch between him +and his simple parishioners. When they thought of him, they felt that +God was a great nobleman, benevolent and merciful, but not friends with +the first comer. The priest felt this and regretted it. No peasant had +ever invited him to a wedding or christening. At first he had tried to +break through their shyness, and had entered into conversations with +them; but these ended in embarrassment on both sides and he left it +off. 'I cannot act the democrat,' he thought irritably. + +Sometimes when he had been left to himself for several days owing to +bad roads, he had pricks of conscience. + +'I am a Pharisee,' he thought; 'I did not become a priest only to +associate with the nobility, but to serve the humble.' + +He would then lock himself in, pray for the apostolic spirit, vow to +give away his spaniel and empty his cellar of wine. + +But as a rule, just as the spirit of humility and renunciation was +beginning to be awakened, Satan would send him a visitor. + +'God have mercy! fate is against me,' he would mutter, get up from his +knees, give orders for the kitchen and cellar, and sing jolly songs and +drink like an Uhlan a quarter of an hour afterwards. + +To-night, at the time when Jonah was drawing near to the Parsonage, he +was getting ready for a party at a neighbouring landowner's to meet an +engineer from Warsaw who would have the latest news and be entertained +exceptionally well, for he was courting the landowner's daughter. The +priest was longing feverishly for the moment of departure, for lie had +been left to himself for several days. He could hardly bear the look of +his snow-covered courtyard any more, having no diversion except +watching a man chop wood, and hearing the cawing of rooks. He paced to +and fro, thinking that another quarter of an hour must have gone, and +was surprised to find it was only a few minutes since he had last +looked at his watch. He ordered the samovar and lit his pipe. Then +there was a knock at the door. Jonah came in, bowing to the ground. + +'I am glad to see you,' said the priest, 'there are several things in +my wardrobe that want mending.' + +'God be praised for that, I haven't had work for a week past. And your +honour's lady housekeeper tells me that the clock is broken as well.' + +'What? you mend clocks too?' + +'Why yes, I've even got the tools to do it with. I'm also an +umbrella-mender and harness-maker, and I can glaze stewing-pans.' + +'If that is so you might spend the winter here. When can you begin?' + +'I'll sit down now and work through the night.' + +'As you like. Ask them to give you some tea in the kitchen.' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon, may I ask that the sugar might be +served separately?' + +'Don't you like your tea sweet?' + +'On the contrary, I like it very sweet. But I save the sugar for my +grandchildren.' + +The priest laughed at the Jew's astuteness. 'All right! have your tea +with sugar and some for your grandchildren as well. Walenty!' he called +out, 'bring me my fur coat.' + +The Jew began bowing afresh. 'With an entreaty for your Reverence's +pardon, I come from Slimak's.' + +'The man whose house was burnt down?' + +'Not that he asked me to come, your Reverence, he would not presume to +do such a thing, but his wife is dead, they are both lying in the +stable, and I am sure he has a bad thought in his head, for no one does +so much as give him a cup of water.' The priest started. + +'No one has visited him?' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon,' bowed the Jew, 'but they say in the +village, God's anger has fallen on him, so he must die without help.' +He looked into the priest's eyes as if Slimak's salvation depended on +him. His Reverence knocked his pipe on the floor till it broke. + +'Then I'll go into the kitchen,' said the Jew, and took up his bundle. +The sledge-bells tinkled at the door, the valet stood ready with the +fur coat. + +'I shall be wanted for the betrothal,' reflected the priest, 'that man +will last till to-morrow, and I can't bring the dead woman back to +life. It's eight o'clock, if I go to the man first there will be +nothing to go for afterwards. Give me my fur coat, Walenty.' He went +into his bedroom: 'Are the horses ready? Is it a bright night?' 'Quite +bright, your Reverence.' + +'I cannot be the slave of all the people who are burnt down and all the +women who die,' he agitatedly resumed his thoughts, 'it will be time +enough to-morrow, and anyhow the man can't be worth much if no one will +help him.'...His eyes fell on the crucifix. 'Divine wounds! Here I am +hesitating between my amusement and comforting the stricken, and I am a +priest and a citizen! + +Get a basket,' he said in a changed voice to the astonished servant, +'put the rest of the dinner into it. I had better take the sacrament +too,' he thought, after the surprised man had left the room, 'perhaps +he is dying. God is giving me another spell of grace instead of +condemning me eternally.' + +He struck his breast and forgot that God does not count the number of +amusements preferred and bottles emptied, but the greatness of the +struggle in each human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Within half an hour the priest's round ponies stood at Slimak's gate. +The priest walked towards the stable with a lantern in one hand and a +basket in the other, pushed open the door with his foot, and saw +Slimakowa's body. Further away, on the litter, sat the peasant, shading +his eyes from the light. + +'Who is that?' he asked. + +'It is I, your priest.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet, with deep astonishment on his face. He +advanced with unsteady steps to the threshold, and gazed at the priest +with open mouth. + +'What have you come for, your Reverence?' + +'I have come to bring you the divine blessing. Put on your sheepskin, +it is cold here. Have something to eat.' He unpacked the basket. + +Slimak stared, touched the priest's sleeve, and suddenly fell sobbing +at his feet. + +'I am wretched, your Reverence...I am wretched...wretched!' + +'Benedicat te omnipotens Deus!' Instead of making the sign of the +cross, the priest put his arm round the peasant and drew him on to the +threshold. + +'Calm yourself, brother, all will be well. God does not forsake His +children.' + +He kissed him and wiped his tears. With almost a howl the peasant threw +himself at his feet. + +'Now I don't mind if I die, or if I go to hell for my sins! I've had +this consolation that your Reverence has taken pity on me. If I were to +go to the Holy City on my knees, it would not be enough to repay you +for your kindness.' + +He touched the ground at the priest's feet as though it were the altar. +The priest had to use much persuasion before he put on his sheepskin +and consented to touch food. + +'Take a good pull,' he said, pouring out the mead. + +'I dare not, your Reverence.' + +'Well, then I will drink to you.' He touched the glass with his lips. + +The peasant took the glass with trembling hands and drank kneeling, +swallowing with difficulty. + +'Don't you like it?' + +'Like it? vodka is nothing compared to this!' Slimak's voice sounded +natural again. 'Isn't it just full of spice!' he added, and revived +rapidly. + +'Now tell me all about it,' began the priest: 'I remember you as a +prosperous gospodarz.' + +'It would be a long story to tell your Reverence. One of my sons was +drowned, the other is in jail; my wife is dead, my horses were stolen, +my house burnt down. It all began with the squire's selling the +village, and with the railway and the Germans coming here. Then Josel +set everyone against me, because I had been selling fowls and other +things to the surveyors; even now he is doing his best to...' + +'But why does everyone go to Josel for advice?' interrupted the priest. + +'To whom is one to go, begging your Reverence's pardon? We peasants are +ignorant people. The Jews know about everything, and sometimes they +give good advice.' + +The priest winced. The peasant continued excitedly: + +'There were no wages coming in from the manor, and the Germans took the +two acres I had rented from the squire.' + +'But let me see,' said the priest, 'wasn't it you to whom the squire +offered those two acres at a great deal less than they were worth?' + +'Certainly it was me!' + +'Why didn't you take the offer? I suppose you did not trust him?' + +'How can one trust them when one does not know what they are talking +among themselves; they jabber like Jews, and when they talked to me +they were poking fun at me. Besides, there was some talk of free +distribution of land.' + +'And you believed that?' + +'Why should I not believe it? A man likes to believe what is to his +advantage. The Jews knew it wasn't true, but they won't tell.' + +'Why didn't you apply for work at the railway?' + +'I did, but the Germans kept me out.' + +'Why couldn't you have come to me? the chief engineer was living at my +house all the time,' said the priest, getting angry. + +'I beg your Reverence's pardon; I couldn't have known that, and I +shouldn't have dared to apply to your Reverence.' + +'Hm! And the Germans annoyed you?' + +'Oh dear, oh dear! haven't they been pestering me to sell them my land +all along, and when the fire came I gave way....' + +'And you sold them the land?' + +'God and my dead wife saved me from doing that. She got up from her +deathbed and laid a curse upon me if I should sell the land. I would +rather die than sell it, but all the same,' he hung his head, 'the +Germans will pay me out.' + +'I don't think they can do you much harm.' + +'If the Germans leave,' continued the peasant, 'I shall be up against +old Gryb, and he will do me as much harm as the Germans, or more.' + +'I am a good shepherd!' the priest reflected bitterly. 'My sheep are +fighting each other like wolves, go to the Jews for advice, are +persecuted by the Germans, and I am going to entertainments!' + +He got up. 'Stay here, my brother,' he said, 'I will go to the +village.' + +Slimak kissed his feet and accompanied him to the sledge. + +'Drive across to the village,' he directed his coachman. + +'To the village?' The coachman's face, which was so chubby that it +looked as if it had been stung by bees, was comic in its astonishment: + +'I thought we were going...' + +'Drive where I tell you!' + +Slimak leant on the fence, as in happier days. + +'How could he have known about me?' he reflected. 'Is a priest like God +who knows everything? They would not have brought him word from the +village. It must have been good old Jonah. But now they will not dare +to look askance at me, because his Reverence himself has come to see +me. If he could only take the sin of my sending Maciek and the child to +their death from me, I shouldn't be afraid of anything.' + +Presently the priest returned. + +'Are you there, Slimak?' he called out. 'Gryb will come to you +to-morrow. Make it up with him and don't quarrel any more. I have sent +to town for a coffin and am arranging for the funeral.' + +'Oh Redeemer!' sighed Slimak. + +'Now, Pawel! drive on as fast as the horses will go,' cried the priest. +He pulled out his repeater watch: it was a quarter to ten. + +'I shall be late,' he murmured, 'but not too late for everything; there +will be time for some fun yet.' + +As soon as the sledge had melted into the darkness, and silence again +brooded over his home, an irresistible desire for sleep seized Slimak. +He dragged himself to the stable, but he hesitated. He did not wish to +lie down once more by the side of his dead wife, and went into the +cowshed. Uneasy dreams pursued him; he dreamt that his dead wife was +trying to force herself into the cowshed. He got up and looked into the +stable. Slimakowa was lying there peacefully; two faint beams of light +were reflected from the eyes which had not yet been closed. + +A sledge stopped at the gate and Gryb came into the yard; his grey head +shook and his yellowish eyes moved uneasily. He was followed by his +man, who was carrying a large basket. + +'I am to blame,' he cried, striking his chest, 'are you still angry +with me?' + +'God give you all that you desire,' said Slimak, bowing low, 'you are +coming to me in my time of trouble.' + +This humility pleased the old peasant; he grasped Slimak's hand and +said in a more natural voice: 'I tell you, I am to blame, for his +Reverence told me to say that. Therefore I am the first to make it up +with you, although I am the elder. But I must say, neighbour, you did +annoy me very much. However, I will not reproach you.' + +'Forgive me the wrong I have done,' said Slimak, bending towards his +shoulder, 'but to tell you the truth, I cannot remember ever having +wronged you personally.' + +'I won't mince matters, Slimak. You dealt with those railway people +without consulting me.' + +'Look at what I have earned by my trading,' said Slimak, pointing to +his burnt homestead. + +'Well, God has punished you heavily, and that is why I say: I am to +blame. But when you came to church and your wife--God rest her +eternally--bought herself a silk kerchief, you ought to have treated me +to at least a pint of vodka, instead of speaking impertinently to me.' + +'It's true, I boasted too early.' + +'And then you made friends with the Germans and prayed with them.' + +'I only took off my cap. Their God is the same as ours.' + +Gryb shook his clenched fist in his face. + +'What! their God is the same as ours? I tell you, he must be a +different God, or why should they jabber to him in German? But never +mind,' he changed his tone, 'all that's past and gone. You deserve well +of us, because you did not let the Germans have your land. Hamer has +already offered me his farm for midsummer.' + +'Is that so?' + +'Of course it is so. The scoundrels threatened to drive us all away, +and they have smashed themselves against a small gospodarz of ten +acres. You deserve God's blessing and our friendship for that. God rest +your dead wife eternally! Many a time has she set you against me! I'll +bear her no grudge on that account, however. And here, you see, all of +us in the village are sending you some victuals.' + +Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Grochowski. + +'I wouldn't believe Jonah, when he came to tell me all this,' he said, +'and you here, Gryb, too? Where is the defunct?' + +They approached to the stable and knelt down in the snow. Only the +murmuring of their prayers and Slimak's sobs were audible for a while. +Then the men got up and praised the dead woman's virtues. + +'I am bringing you a bird,' then said Grochowski, turning to Gryb; 'he +is slightly wounded.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'It's your Jasiek. He attempted to steal my horses last night, and I +treated him to a little lead.' + +'Where is he?' + +'In the sledge outside.' + +Gryb ran off at a heavy trot. Blows and cries were heard, then the old +man reappeared, dragging his son by the hair. The strong young fellow +was crying like a child. He looked dishevelled and his clothes were +torn; a bloodstained cloth was tied round his hand. + +'Did you steal the Soltys' horses?' shouted his father. + +'How should I not have stolen them? I did steal them!' + +'Not quite,' said Grochowski, 'but he did steal Slimak's.' + +'What?' cried Gryb, and began to lay on to his son again. + +'I did, father. Leave off!' wailed Jasiek. + +'My God, how did this come about?' asked the old man. + +'That's simple enough,' sneered Grochowski, 'he found others as bad as +himself, and they robbed the whole neighbourhood, till I winged him.' + +'What do you propose to do now?' asked old Gryb between his blows. + +'I'll mend my ways.'...'I'll marry Orzchewski's daughter,' wailed +Jasiek. + +'Perhaps this is not quite the moment for that,' said Grochowski, +'first you will go to prison.' + +'You don't mean to charge him?' asked his father. + +'I should prefer not to charge him, but the whole neighbourhood is +indignant about the robberies. However, as he did not do me personally +any harm, I am not bound to charge him.' + +'What will you take?' + +'Not a kopek less than a hundred and fifty roubles.' + +'In that case, let him go to prison.' + +'A hundred and fifty to me, and eighty to Slimak for the horses.' + +Gryb took to his fists again. + +'Who put you up to this?' + +'Leave off!' cried Jasiek; 'it was Josel.' + +'And why did you do as he told you?' + +'Because I owe him a hundred roubles.' + +'Oh Lord!' groaned Gryb, tearing his hair. + +'Well, that's nothing to tear your hair about,' said Grochowski. 'Come; +three hundred and thirty roubles between Slimak, Josel, and me; what is +that to you?' + +'I won't pay it.' + +'All right! In that case he will go to prison. Come along.' He took the +youth by the arm. + +'Dad, have pity, I am your only son!' + +The old man looked helplessly at the peasants in turn. + +'Are you going to ruin my life for a paltry sum?' + +'Wait...wait,' cried Gryb, seeing that the Soltys was in earnest. He +took Slimak aside. + +'Neighbour, if there is to be peace between us,' he said, 'I'll tell +you what you will have to do.' + +'What?' + +'You'll have to marry my sister. You are a widower, she is a widow. You +have ten acres, she has fifteen. I shall take her land, because it is +close to mine, and give you fifteen acres of Hamer's land. You will +have a gospodarstwo of twenty-five acres all in one piece.' + +Slimak reflected for a while. + +'I think,' he said at last,' Gawdrina's land is better than Hamer's.' + +'All right! You shall have a bit more.' + +Slimak scratched his head. 'Well, I don't know,' he said. + +'It's agreed, then,' said Gryb, 'and now I'll tell you what you will +have to do in return. You will pay a hundred and fifty roubles to +Grochowski and a hundred to Josel.' + +Slimak demurred. + +'I haven't buried my wife yet.' + +The old man's temper was rising. + +'Rubbish! don't be a fool! How can a gospodarz get along without a +wife? Yours is dead and gone, and if she could speak, she would say: + +"Marry, Josef, and don't turn up your nose at a benefactor like Gryb."' + +'What are you quarrelling about?' cried Grochowski. + +'Look here, I am offering him my sister and fifteen acres of land, four +cows and a pair of horses, to say nothing of the household property, +and he can't make up his mind,' said Gryb, with awry face. + +'Why, that's certainly worth while,' said Grochowski, 'and not a bad +wife!' + +'Aye, a good, hefty woman,' cried Gryb. + +'You'll be quite a gentleman, Slimak,' added Grochowski. + +Slimak sighed. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'that Jagna did not live to see +this.' + +The agreement was carried out, and before Holy Week both Slimak and +Gryb's son were married. By the autumn Slimak's new gospodarstwo was +finished, and an addition to his family expected. His second wife not +unfrequently reminded him that he had been a beggar and owed all his +good fortune to her. At such times he would slip out of the house, lie +under the lonely pine and meditate, recalling the strange struggle, +when the Germans had lost their land and he his nearest and dearest. + +When everybody else had forgotten Slimakowa, Stasiek, Maciek, and the +child, he often remembered them, and also the dog Burek and the cow +doomed to the butcher's knife for want of fodder. + +Silly Zoska died in prison, old Sobieska at the inn. The others with +whom my story is concerned, not excepting old Jonah, are alive and +well. + + + + + + + + +A PINCH OF SALT + +BY + +ADAM SZYMANSKI + + +It was in the fourth year of my exile to the metropolis of the Siberian +frosts, a few days before Christmas, when one of our comrades and +fellow-sufferers, a former student at the university of Kiev, who +hailed from Little-Russia, called in to give us some interesting news. +One of his intimate friends--also an ex-student and fellow- +sufferer--was to pass through our town on his way back from a +far-distant Yakut aul,[1] where he had lived for three years; +he was due to arrive on Christmas Eve. + +[Footnote 1: _Aul: a hamlet_.] + +We had repeatedly met people who knew the life in the nearer Yakut +settlements; now and then we had seen temporary or permanent +inhabitants of the so-called Yakut 'towns' of Vjerchojansk, Vihijsk, +and Kalymsk. But the nearer auls and towns were populous centres of +human life in comparison to those far-off deserted and desolate places; +they gave one no conception of what the latter might be like. Certainly +the fact that the worst criminals, when they were sent to those +regions, preferred to return to hard labour rather than live in liberty +there, gave us an illustration of the charms of that life, yet it told +us nothing definite. + +Bad--we were told--very bad it was out there, but in what way bad it +was impossible to judge, even from the knowledge we had of life in less +remote regions. Who would venture to draw conclusions from the little +we knew as to the thousand small details which made up that grey, +monotonous existence? Who could clearly bring them before the +imagination? Only experience could reveal them in their appalling +nakedness. Of one thing we were certain, that was that in a measure as +the populousness decreases, and you move away in a centrifugal +direction from where we were, life becomes harder and more and more +distressing for human beings. In the south, on the wild high plateaus +of the Aldon; in the east, on the mountain slopes of the +Stanovoi-Chebret, where a single Tungus family constitutes the sole +population along a river of 300 versts; in the west on the desolate +heights of the Viluj, near the great Zeresej Lake; in the north at the +mysterious outlets of the Quabrera, the desert places of the Olensk, +Indigirika, and Kolyma, life becomes like a Danteesque hell, consisting +in nothing but ice, snow and gales, and lighted up by the lurid +blood-red rays of the northern light. + +But no! those deserts, equal in extent to the half of Europe, are only +the purgatory, not yet the real Siberian hell. You still find woods +there, poor, thin, dwarfed woods, it is true, but where there is wood +there is fire and vitality. The true hell of human torture begins +beyond the line of the woods; then there is nothing but ice and snow; +ice that does not even melt in the plains in summer--and in the midst +of that icy desert, miserable human beings thrown upon this shore by an +alien fate. + + + +I shall never forget the impression which any chance bit of information +on the characteristic features, the horrible details of that life, used +to make upon me. Even clearly defined facts and exact technical terms +bear quite a different aspect in the light of such unusual local +conditions. + +I have a vivid remembrance of a story told me by a former official; he +described to me how when he was stationed in V. as Ispravnik, 'a +certain gentleman' was sent out to him with orders to take him to the +settlement in Zaszyversk.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Pronounce: Zashiversk.] + +'You see, little brother,' said the ex-Ispravnik, 'the town of +Zaszyversk does exist. Even on a small map of Siberia you can easily +find it to the right of a large blank space; if you remember your +geography lessons you will even know that it is designated as "town out +of governmental bounds". An appointment to such a place means for an +official that he is expected to send in his resignation; as for the +towns, it means that they have been degraded by having ceased to be the +seat of certain local government. In this case there was a yet deeper +significance in the description, for the town of Zaszyversk does, as I +said, exist, but only in the imagination of cartographers and in +geography manuals, not in reality. So much so is it non-existent that +not a single house, not a yurta,[1] not a hovel marks the place which +is pointed out to you on the map. When I read the order I could not +believe my eyes, and though I was sober I reeled. I called another +official and showed him the curious document. + +[Footnote 1: Yurta: hut of the native Yakut.] + +'He was an old, experienced hand at the office, but when he saw this +order, the paper dropped from his hands. "Where to?" I asked. "To +Zaszyversk!" We looked at each other. Nice things that young man must +have been up to! There he stood, looked and listened and understood +nothing. + +'He was a handsome fellow but gloomy and stuck up. I asked him one +thing after another, was he in need of anything? and so on, but he +answered nothing but "Yes" or "No". Well, my little brother, I thought +to myself, you will soon sing a different tune! I ordered three troikas +to be brought round; he was put into the first with the Cossack who +escorted him, I was in the second with an old Cossack, who remembered +where this town of Zaszyversk had once stood, and the third contained +provisions; then we started. First we drove straight on for twenty-four +hours; during this time we still stopped at stations where we changed +horses, and we covered 200 versts. The second and third days we covered +150 versts, but we did not meet a living soul, and we spent the nights +in the large barnlike buildings without windows or chimneys and with +only a fireplace, which are found on the road; they are called +"povarnia". + +'Our prisoner was obviously beginning to feel rather bad, so he +addressed me from time to time; at last he tried to get information out +of me concerning the life in Zaszyversk. "How many inhabitants were +there? what was the town like? was there any chance of his finding +something to do there, perhaps private lessons?" But now it was my turn +to answer him: "Yes" or "No". On the fourth day. towards morning, we +entered upon a glacier. We had arrived in the region where the ice does +not disappear even in summer. When we had advanced ten versts on the +ice, the old Cossack showed me the place where sixty years ago a few +yurtas had stood which were called in geographical terms "Zaszyversk, +town out of governmental bounds". + +"Stop," I cried, "let the young gentleman get out; here we are! This is +the town of Zaszyversk...." + +'The man did not understand at once, he opened his eyes wide and +thought it was a joke, or that I had lost my reason. I had to explain +the situation to him.... At last he understood.' + +The ex-Ispravnik laughed dryly. 'Will you believe me or not?' he +continued. 'Look here, I swear by the cross'--he crossed himself +spaciously, bowing to the images of the saints--that fellow's eyes +became glassy... his jaws chattered as in a fever. It was a business! + +'And I, a tough old official, I put my hands to my forehead. You should +have seen how the gentleman's pride disappeared in a moment; he became +soft as wax and so humble... pliable as silk he was! + +'"I adjure you by the wounds of Christ," he cried, stretching out his +hands to me, "let the love of God come into your heart! I have not been +condemned to death, there is nothing very serious against me, I have +been too overbearing, that is all." + +'"Oh," I said, "well, you see, pride is a great sin." + +'And whether you will believe me or won't'--he crossed himself again--' +the man wept like a child when I told him I would take him to the +nearest Yakut yurta, at a distance of thirty versts from the town of +Zaszyversk, and I swear to you for the third time it was with joy that +he wept... although he was not much better off in that yurta....' + + + +It is easy to imagine how eagerly we received the news of the arrival +of a man who had actually been living somewhere at the end of the world +under conditions which had completely isolated him for three whole +years; yet it was said that he was returning into this world sound in +body and mind. We inhabitants of our own special town were not living +in the most enviable of circumstances either, but we all knew that they +were infinitely happier than they might have been. + +A passionate desire seized us to look upon that life out there in its +unveiled nakedness, its horrible cruelty. This curiosity meant more +than narrow selfishness; it had a special reason. + +The fact that a human being had been able to survive in that +far-distant world, bore witness to the strength and resistance of the +human spirit; the iron will and energy of the one doubled and steeled +the strength of all the others. + +What we had heard so far of those who were battling with their fate at +the end of the world had not been too comforting. Therefore the +question whether and how one could live and suffer there, was a vital +one for us. + +And now the news came unexpectedly that one of our own class, a man +closely allied to us by his intellectual development and a number of +ways and customs, had actually lived for three years in a yurta not +much better situated than the one behind the imaginary town of +Zaszyversk. This unknown youth, student of a university not our own, +became dear to us. We all--Russians, Poles, and Jews--bound together by +our common fate, made up our minds to celebrate his arrival, and as it +was timed for Christmas Eve, we were going to prepare a solemn feast in +his honour. + +As I was the one who had the greatest experience in culinary affairs, I +was charged with the arrangement of the dinner, supported by a young +student, and by the intense interest of the whole colony. I am sure +that neither I nor my dear scullion have ever in our lives before or +after worked as hard for two days in the kitchen as we did then. + +The student was not only a great collector of everything useful for our +daily life, he was also deeply versed in the knowledge of the Yakut in +general. While we were cooking and roasting we told one another the +most interesting things, and thus stimulated each other to such a +degree that the dinner, originally planned on simple lines, began to +assume Lucullian dimensions. + +We knew only too well how miserable the life in the nearest Yakut +yurtas was, that there was a want of the most necessary European food, +such as would be found in the poorest peasant's home; above all, the +want of bread--simple daily bread--was very pronounced among the poorer +populations. It was not surprising that we two, possessed by gloomy +pictures which we recalled to our memory, fell into a sort of +cooking-fever. Like a mother who remembers the favourite dishes of the +child she has not seen for a long time, and whom she expects home on a +certain day, we kept on racking our brains for, agreeable surprises for +our guest. One or the other would constantly ask: + +'What do you think, comrade, wouldn't he like this or that?' + +'Well, of course, he would thoroughly enjoy that. Just think, counting +the journeys, it must be a good five years since he has eaten food fit +for human beings.' + +'Shall we add that?' + +'All right!' + +And one of us ran to the market-place to fetch the necessary +ingredients from the shops, another secured kitchen utensils, and soon +another course enriched the menu. At last the supply of kitchen +utensils gave out, and want of time as well as physical exhaustion put +a stop to further exertions. Our enthusiasm had communicated itself to +all the participants of the feast, for they were all of a responsive +disposition, and declared themselves charmed with our inventiveness and +energy. I and my scullion were proud of our work. A huge fish, weighing +twenty pounds, which after much trouble we had succeeded in boiling +whole, was considered the crowning success of our labour and art. We +rightly anticipated that this magnificent fish, prepared with an +appallingly highly seasoned and salted sauce, would move the hardest +hearts. Also, we did not forget a small Christmas tree, and decorated +it as best we could in honour of our guest. + + + +At last the longed-for day came. The student started at dawn for the +nearest posting station to await the newcomer and bring him to us. +Before two o'clock, when it began to be dark, we were all assembled, +and soon after two the melancholy sound of the sleighbells announced +the arrival of the students. We hurriedly pulled on our furs and went +out. The sleigh and the travellers were entirely covered with snow, +long icicles hung from the horses' nostrils when they whipped into the +courtyard, they were covered with a fine crust of ice. Another moment +and they stood still in front of the door. Every man bared his +head...there were some who had grown grey in misery and sorrow. + + + +I will not describe our first greeting--I could not do so even if I +would. We did not know each other, and yet how near we felt! I doubt +whether it will ever fall to my share again to be one of a number of +human beings so different in birth and station in life, yet so nearly +related, so closely tied to each other as we were on the day when we +greeted our guest. + +He was small and thin--very thin. His complexion showed yellow and +black, much more than ours did; he seemed marked for life by an earthen +colour; his deeply sunk eyes were the only feature which was burning +with vitality, they had a phosphorescent glow. + +It had grown quite dark by the time he had changed his clothes and +warmed himself, and we were sitting down to our dinner. Noise and +vivacity predominated in our small abode; a cheerful mood rose like an +overflowing wave, washing away all signs of sorrow and bitterness. + +'Let us be cheerful!' + +Louder and louder this cry arose, now here, now there, and when our +guest took it up even the gloomiest faces brightened. We broke the +sacred wafer, then we emptied the first glasses. My industrious +scullion had been deeply moved by a folk-song from the Ukraine, one of +those songs rich in poetical feeling and simple metaphor which go +straight to the heart; he therefore got up to make the welcoming +speech, and, encouraged by the tears of joy which rose in the eyes of +our guest, he quite took possession of him. He told him that he and I +had worked uninterruptedly for two days and nights in the sweat of our +brows, so as to give him a noble repast after his many days of +privation and hunger; he forecast the whole menu, beginning with his +favourite Kutja, he drew close to him and put his arm round his neck, +laughing gaily, and seemingly inspiring him so that he wept tears of +joy. + +Our animated mood rose higher and higher. A storm of applause greeted +the first course. The student filled the guest's plate to the brim. At +last the harmonious rattle of the spoons replaced the laughing and +talking. 'Excellent,' was the universal verdict. + +My scullion was in raptures and loudly assented; finally he too became +silent and applied himself like us to his plate. + +But what in the name of God did this mean? We were all eating, only our +guest fumbled about with his spoon and stirred his soup without eating, +laughing the while with a suppressed, hardly audible laugh. + +'My God, what is it? why don't you eat, comrade?' several voices called +in unison. 'The scullion has been exciting him too much! Off with him! +Our guest must have serious people next to him.' The student obediently +changed places, and we turned to our food again. But still our guest +did not eat. + +What was the matter? We stopped eating and all eyes were turned +questioningly upon him. Our silent anxiety was sufficiently eloquent. +He perceived, felt it and said: + +'I... forgive me... I... my happiness... I am so sorry... I do not want +to trouble you, and I fear I shall spoil your pleasure. I beg you... I +entreat you, dear brothers, take no notice of me...it is nothing, it +will pass,' and he broke into a strange sobbing laugh. + +'Jesus, Mary!' we all cried, for we had not noticed before how +unnatural his laugh was; there was no further thought of eating; and +he, when he saw the general anxiety, mastered himself with an effort +and said rapidly amidst the general silence: + +'I thought you knew what the life was like that I have lived for three +years, but I see you don't know it; when I realized this I tried... +I... well, I tried while you were eating and drinking to swallow a +small piece of bread... just a tiny piece of bread... but I cannot do +it... I cannot! You see, for three years... three whole years I have +tasted no salt... I ate all my food without salt, and this bread is +rather salt--very salt in fact, it is burning and scorching me, and +probably all the other things are also very salt.' 'Certainly, some +were even salted too much in our haste and eagerness,' I answered +simultaneously with the student. + +'Well then, eat, beloved brothers, eat, but I cannot eat anything; I +shall watch you with great pleasure--eat, I beg you fervently!' and +with hysterical laughter and tears he sank back into his seat. + +Now we understood this laugh which was like a spasm.... + +Not one of us was able to swallow the food which he had in his mouth. + +The misery of the existence of which we had longed to know something +had lifted the veil off a small portion of its mysteries. + +We all dropped our spoons and hung our heads. + +How vain, how small appeared to us now the trouble we had taken about +the food, how clumsy our childish enjoyment! + +And while we looked at the ravaged face of our brother, convulsed with +spasmodic laughter and tears, a feeling of horror seized upon us.... + +We felt as if the spectre of death had risen from a lonely yurta +somewhere behind the lost town of Zaszyversk and was staring at us with +cold glassy eyes.... + +A dead silence brooded over the frightened assembly. + + + + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER + +A SIBERIAN SKETCH + +BY + +ADAM SZYMINSKI + + +I made his acquaintance accidentally; the chance which led to it was +caused by the peculiar conditions of the Yakut spring. My readers will +probably only have a very imperfect knowledge of the Yakut spring. + +From the middle of April onwards the sun begins to be pretty powerful +in Yakutsk; in May it hardly leaves the horizon for a few hours and is +roasting hot; but as long as the great Lena has not thrown off the +shackles of winter, and as long as the huge masses of unmelted snow are +lying in the taiga,[1] you can see no trace of spring. The snow is not +warmed by the earth, which has been frozen hard to the depth of several +feet, and this thick crust of ice opposes determined resistance to the +lifegiving rays, and only after long, patient labour does the sun +succeed in awakening to new life the secret depths of the taiga and the +queen of Yakut waters, 'Granny Lena', as the Yakut calls the great +river. + +[Footnote 1: Primaeval forest.] + +In the last days of the month of May, when this battle of vitalizing +warmth against the last remnants of the cruel winter is nearing its +end, the newly arrived European witnesses a scene which is without +parallel anywhere in the west. Every sound resembling a report, however +distant and indistinct, has a wonderful effect upon the people out in +the open; children and the aged, men and women are suddenly rooted to +the spot, turn to the east towards the river, crane their necks and +seem to be listening for something. + +If the peculiar sounds cease or turn out to be caused accidentally, +everybody quietly goes home. But if the reports continue, and swell to +such dimensions that the air seems filled with a noise like the firing +of great guns or the rolling of thunder, accompanied by subterranean +rushing like the coming of a great gale, then these silent people +become unusually animated. Joyful shouts of 'The ice is cracking! the +river is breaking! do you hear?' are heard from all sides; eagerly and +noisily the people run in all directions to carry the news into the +farthest cottages. Everybody knocks at the doors he passes, be they his +friends' or a stranger's; and calls out the magic word 'The Lena is +breaking!' These words spread like wildfire in many tongues through +far-off houses, yurtas and Yakut settlements, and whoever is able to +move puts on his furs and runs to the banks of the Lena. + +A dense crowd is thronging the banks, watching in fascination one of +the most beautiful natural phenomena in Siberia. + +Gigantic blocks of ice, driven down by the powerful waves of the broad +river, are packed to the height of houses--of mountains; they break, +they crash; covered with myriads of small needles of ice, they seem to +be floating in the sun, displaying a marvellous wealth of colour. + +But one must have lived here for at least one winter to understand what +it is that drives this crowd of human beings to the river banks. It is +not the magnificent display of nature that attracts them. + +In the long struggle against winter these people have exhausted all +their strength; for many months' they have been awaiting the vivifying +warmth with longing and impatience, now they hasten hither to witness +the triumph of the sun over the cruel enemy. + +An intense, almost childlike joy is depicted on the yellow faces of the +Yakuts, their broad lips smile good-naturedly and appear broader still, +their little black eyes glow like coals. The whole crowd is swaying as +if intoxicated. 'God be praised! God be praised!' they call to each +other, turn towards the huge icebergs which are now being destroyed by +the friendly element, and shout and rejoice over the defeat of the +merciless enemy, driven, crushed and annihilated by the inexorable +waves. + +When the ice-drifts on the Lena have come to an end, the earth quickly +thaws, although only to a depth of two feet. But nature makes the most +of the three months of warmth. Within a comparatively short time +everything develops and unfolds. + +The great plain of Yakutsk offers a charming spectacle; it is fertile, +and here and there cultivation already begins to show. Birchwoods, +small lakes, brushwood and verdant fields alternate and make the whole +country look like a large park, framed by the silver ribbon of the +Lena. The surrounding gloom of the taiga emphasizes the natural beauty +of the valley. This smiling plain in the midst of the wide expanse +reminds one of an oasis in the desert. + +The Yakut is by far the most capable of the Siberian tribes; he values +the gifts of the life-giving sun and enjoys them to the full. When he +escapes from his narrow, stinking winter-yurta he fills his hitherto +inhospitable country with life and movement; his energy is doubled, his +vitality pulsates with greater strength and intensity. When the +'Ysech', the feast of spring, is over, the animated mood of the +population does not abate in the least. The 'strengthening kumis', the +ambrosia of the Yakut gods, does not run dry in the wooden vessels, for +luxuriant grass covers the ground, and cows and mares give abundant +milk. + +The sight of the lovely plain and the joyful human beings delighting in +the summer had revived me also. This was my first summer in Yakutsk, +and I responded to it with my whole being. Daily I went for walks to +look at the beauty of the surrounding world, daily I took my sun bath. + + + +My walks usually led me to one of the Yakut yurtas; they are at long +distances from each other, lonely and scattered over the whole country. +You find them in whatever direction you may choose. + +Cold milk and kumis can be had in all these yurtas. It is true both +have the nasty smell which the stranger in this part of the world calls +'Yakut odour'; but during the long winter when milk other than from +Yakut yurtas was hard to procure, I had got used to this specific +smell, so that now it only produced a mild nausea. + +One of the many yurtas had taken my fancy, for it was charmingly +situated close to the woods in a corner of the raised banks of a long +stretch of lake. It belonged to an aged Yakut, well deserving of the +honourable designation 'ohonior', given to all the Yakut elders. + +The old man was living there with his equally aged wife and a young +fellow, a distant relation of his. Two cows and a calf, a few mares and +a foal constituted all their wealth. + +All the Yakuts are very inquisitive and loquacious. But my friend, the +honourable 'ohonior ', possessed these qualities in an unusually high +degree, and as he was able to speak broken Russian, I often took +occasion to call in for a little talk. + +First of all he wished to know who I was, where I came from and what +was my business here. Towards the Russians, whether strangers or +natives of Siberia, the Yakuts are always on their guard and +excessively obsequious. Every Russian, however poorly dressed, is +always the 'tojan', the master. Their behaviour towards the Poles, on +the other hand, is very friendly. No Yakut ever took the information +that I was not a Russian but a 'Bilak'--Polak--with indifference. + +'Bilak? Bilak? Excellent brother!' exclaimed even the most reticent +among them. The 'ohonior' and I therefore soon became friends, and when +he learned that in addition I was versed in the art of writing and +might be employed as secretary to the community and draw up petitions +to the 'great master'--the 'gubernator'--my value was immensely +increased, and this respect saved me from too great an intimacy. Owing +to this consideration I was always offered the best milk and kumis, and +when the old woman handed me a jug she carefully wiped it with her +fingers first, or removed every trace of dirt with her tongue. + +One day when I called in passing to drink my kumis, I found the +'ohonior' unusually excited; he was not only talkative, but also in +very great spirits. His tongue was a little heavy, although he showed +no sign of old age. It turned out that my honourable host had just +returned from the town, where he had indulged in vodka to warm his +feeble frame. + +'The Bilaks are good, are all good,' he stammered, while he crammed his +little pipe with tobacco, 'every Bilak is a clerk, or at least a +doctor, or even a smith, as good as a Yakut one. You are a good man +too, and you must be a good clerk; we all love the Bilaks, a Sacha[1] +never forgets that the Bilak is his brother. But will you believe it, +brother, it is not long since this is so? I myself was afraid of the +Bilaks as of evil spirits until about fifteen years ago, and yet I am +so old that the calves have grazed off the meadows seventy times before +my eyes. When I saw a Bilak, I would run like a hare wherever my feet +would carry me--into the wood or into the bushes, never mind where, so +long as I could escape from him. And not only I but everybody dreaded +the Bilaks, for, you see, people told each other dreadful things about +them, that they had horns and slew everybody, and so on.' + +[Footnote 1: The name by which the Yakuts call themselves.] + +I ascertained that these fairy-tales had had their origin in the town, +and reproached the old man for his credulity, but he bridled up at +once. + +'Goodness gracious! do you think we believed all that on hearsay? I +don't know about other people, but I and all my neighbours believed it +because our forefathers knew for certain that every Bilak was terrible +and dangerous.' + +The old man refreshed himself from the jug and continued: + +'Do you see, it was like this. My father was not yet born, my +grandfather was a little fellow for whom they were still collecting the +"Kalym"[1] when there came to this neighbourhood a Bilak with eyes of +ice,[2] a long beard and long moustaches; he settled here, not in the +valley but up on yonder mountainside in the taiga. That was not taiga, +as you see it now, but thick and wild, untouched by any axe. There the +Bilak found an empty yurta and settled in it.' + +[Footnote 1: The price for the future wife which is paid in cattle and +horses; it is collected early in the boy's life.] + +[Footnote 2: The black-eyed Yakuts speak thus of the blue-eyed races.] + +'But he had no sooner gone to live there than the taiga became +impassable at a distance of ten versts round the cottage. The Bilak ran +about with his gun in his hand, and when he caught sight of anyone he +covered him with his gun, and unless the man ran away he would pop at +him--but not for fun, he didn't mind whom he shot, even if it were a +Cossack. What he lived on? The gods of the taiga know! Nobody else did. +Every living thing shunned him like the plague. Those who caught sight +of him in the forest when he ran about like a devil said that at first +he wore clothes such as the Russian gentlemen wear who know how to +write, but later on he was dressed in skins which he must have tanned +himself. People said he got to look more and more terrible and wild. +His beard grew down to his waist, his face got paler and paler and his +eyes burnt like flames. Some years passed. Then one winter, at the time +of the worst frosts, when a murderous "chijus" broke,[1] he was not +seen for several days. As a rule he had been observed from a distance, +so the people gave notice in the town that someone should come and +ascertain what had happened to him. + +[Footnote 1: A column of frozen air, moving southwards. After a chijus, +corpses of frozen people are generally found.] + +'They came and closed in upon the cottage carefully. There was the +Bilak on the bed in his furs, all covered with snow, and in his hand he +held a cross. The Bilak was dead; perhaps hunger had killed him, +perhaps the frost, or maybe the devil had taken him. Now tell me, was +there no reason for us to be afraid of the Bilaks? Here was only a +single one who drove all the neighbourhood to flight, and now all of a +sudden a great many of you arrived? He! he! he! You know how to write, +brother, but you are yet very young! So you thought people had no good +reasons for their fears? Well, you see, you were mistaken. A Sacha is +cleverer than he looks!' + + + +This legend of a Pole who could not bear to look upon human beings--a +legend I repeatedly heard again later--made a deep impression upon me. +These woods, these fields where I was walking now had perhaps been +haunted by the unfortunate man, driven mad and wild with excess of +sorrow. + +Had his troubles been beyond endurance or had he been unable to bear +the sight of human wickedness and human misery? Or was it the +separation from his home, from those dear to him, that had broken him? + +Dominated altogether by these thoughts, I returned to the town without +paying heed to anything around me. I was walking fast, almost at a run, +when a long-drawn call coming from somewhere close by struck upon my +ear: + +'Kallarra! Kallarra!' + +At first I neither understood the call nor whence it came, but on +frequent repetition it dawned upon me that it proceeded from the bushes +at a little distance in front of me, and that it was meant to be the +Yakut call 'Come here, come here, brother!' I even divined, as I came +nearer, what manner of man it was that was calling. No Yakut, no +Russian, be he a native or a settler, could have mispronounced this +Yakut word so badly; it should have been 'Kelere!' + +Only my countrymen, the Masurs, could do such violence to the +beautiful, sonorous Yakut language. During my long sojourn in Yakutsk I +have never met a Masurian peasant who pronounced this word otherwise +than 'Kallarra'. + +Indeed, there he was, behind the bushes beyond a bridge spanning the +marsh or dried-up arm of the Lena--a man in the ordinary clothes of +deported criminals; he agitated his arms violently, and continually +repeated his call 'Kallarra'! + +This was addressed to a Yakut who became visible on the outskirts of +the brushwood, but it was in vain, for the wary Yakut had no intention +of drawing nearer. The caller must have realized this, for when he +arrived at the bridge he called once more 'Kalare! you dog!' Then he +ceased and only swore to himself: 'May you burst, may you swell, you +son of a dog!' + +When he noticed me, he stood still. I came up to him and greeted him in +Polish, 'Praised be Jesus Christ!' + +The peasant could not get over his amazement. + +'Oh Jesus! where do you come from, sir?' he cried. + +We soon made friends. He lived somewhere in an uluse,[1] and had gone +into the town to hire himself out for work in the gold mines; he had +secured work and was to start at once, driving a herd of cattle to his +new abode. He was grazing them when I met him, and as some of them had +gone astray, and he was unable to drive them all across the bridge +singlehanded, he was waiting for someone to come along and help him. I +gladly lent him a hand, and when the herd had been got across the +bridge and was quietly going along, we began to talk. I asked him with +whom he was lodging. + +[Footnote 1: A settlement consisting of several yurtas.] + +'With Kowalski,' he said. + +I knew all the Poles in Yakutsk, but I had never heard of Kowalski. + +'Well, I mean Kowalski the carpenter.' + +Still I did not know whom he meant. + +'Who are his friends? whom does he go to see?' I inquired. + +'He is peculiar. They all know him, but he does not go to see them.' + +'How do you mean: he does not go to see them?' + +'How should he go to see them? He has got clump feet, he has lost his +toes with frostbite. When the wounds are closed he can just manage, but +when they are open he cannot even move about in his room.' + +'How does he manage to live?' + +'He does a little carpentering; he has a beautiful workshop and all +sorts of tools, but I tell you when he can't stand on his feet he can't +do carpentering. Then he is glad when people come and give him orders +for brushes--he can make beautiful brushes as well--for sweeping rooms +or for brushing clothes. But the rooms here are not swept much, and +people rarely brush their clothes either. Now he is ill again.' + +'Where does he come from? How long has he been here?' + +'He has been here a long time, there were only a few like us when he +came. But where he comes from, who he is--I see you don't know +Kowalski, or else you wouldn't ask. For you see, when I ask him, or one +of the gentlemen, or even the priest, who comes from Irkutsk, he only +answers: "Brother, God knows very well who I am and where I come from, +but it serves no purpose and is quite unnecessary that you should know +it too!" There you are! That's like him. So nobody asks him.' + +I inquired very particularly all the same where Kowalski lived. In my +imagination the 'Bilak' of the legend who fled from men and this lonely +carpenter were blended into one personality, I could not say why. I +felt that there must be a mysterious connexion as between all things +repeating themselves in the circle of time. Perhaps the great sorrow +which--I imagined--had died at the death of the Bilak was still living +on quite close to me, in a different shape, but just as great, no less +unbearable and fateful to him in whom it now dwelt. + + + +Since that day I had often guided my steps in the direction of +Kowalski's yurta. No fresh shavings were added to the old ones lying +about near the door and the little windows. They grew drier and blacker +every day; perhaps the man who had thrown them there.... I had not the +courage to enter. I kept on waiting for another day when perhaps fresh +shavings would be added, but none appeared and no noises of work were +audible. + +At last I made up my mind not to put it off any longer. I left my home +with this decision and had already reached a corner of his yurta, when +I heard a trembling, weak but pleasant voice singing. + +I sat down on the bench in front of the yurta, and I could distinctly +hear every word of a sentimental, gently melancholy little ditty which +had once been very popular in Poland: + + 'When the fields are fresh and green. + And the spring revives the world.' + +But after the third verse the singing suddenly ceased and a voice +called out gloomily: + +'Doggy, go and bark at the Almighty!' + +At first I did not know what this peculiar command meant, but after a +short pause I heard the thin bark of a dog, and as the gate of the +enclosure was open I drew nearer and saw in the wide open door of the +yurta a small black dog, tiny and light, repeatedly raising itself on +its hindlegs and barking up at the blue sky while it jumped and turned +about. + +Of course I went away and put off my visit to a more suitable occasion. + + + +At last I saw him. He was of middle stature, quite greyheaded, and he +looked very neglected. The ashen complexion common to all exiles +distinguished him in a high degree, so that it gave me pain to look +into his face with the black shadows. + +If he had not been talking, and moving about, it would have been hard +to guess that one was looking at a living being. And yet, glances like +lightning would sometimes dart from the large eyes surrounded by broad, +dark circles, and they showed that death had not yet numbed the inner +life of this moving corpse, but that he was still capable of emotion. + +As long as he was sitting I could bear the sight of his suffering face, +but when he got up I had to turn away my eyes, for then his clump-feet +seemed to cause him the greatest agony. + +He spoke Polish correctly and with a pure accent. He carefully avoided +any direct or indirect allusion to his past, and shrank equally from +information about his native country. He talked exclusively about the +present, principally about his dog, with whom he held long +conversations. Only once in the course of the few weeks during which I +visited him did he get animated: that was when I mentioned Plotsk; his +eyes shone as with a hidden fire while he asked: 'Do you know that +part?' + +I answered that I had lived there for a year, and he said, half to +himself: + +'I suppose it is all quite changed, so many years have passed. You +probably were not born at the time when I came to Siberia. In what part +of the province did you stay?' + +'Not far from Raciaz.' + +He opened his mouth, but he felt he had said too much, or that I was +listening with curiosity; enough--he only uttered a long-drawn 'Oh...' +and was silent again. + +This was the only allusion Kowalski ever made to his past. I felt +inclined to draw him out, but he knew how to parry these attempts in a +delicate way by calling his dog and saying to him while he caressed +him: 'Go, bark at the Almighty!' And the obedient creature would +continue for a long time to bark at the sky. + +As soon as Kowalski gave this order, it was a sure sign that he would +not open his mouth except for conversation about his dog, of which he +never tired. + +Although this dog was quite ordinary, he was in several ways +distinguished from his Yakut brothers. For one thing he had no name and +was simply addressed as 'Doggy', though he was his master's pet and was +attached to the house and enclosure. + +'Why didn't you give your dog a name?' I asked casually. + +'What's the good of a name? If people had not invented so many names +and called each other simply "Man", they would perhaps remember better +that we are all men together.' + +So the dog remained nameless. He was of a graceful and delicate build +and fast, quite unlike the heavier, thickset, thick-coated native dogs; +his hair was short, soft, and silky. His appearance had condemned him +to an isolated and lonely life. Attempts at participation in the canine +social life had failed deplorably; he had returned from these +expeditions lame and bleeding all over, and after some vain repetitions +he had given up the hope of satisfying his social instincts and did not +leave the enclosure any more. He was surprisingly sedate for his +delicate organism and thin, mobile little frame, but this was not the +calm sedateness of the strong, shaggy Yakut dogs, against whom he +obviously harboured a certain hatred and bitterness, because these big, +powerful creatures would not recognize the rights of the weak. Except +for his master, he showed no affection for anyone and accepted no +favours--perhaps he had no belief in them, and only responded to a +caress with a low growl. + + + +Some weeks passed and Kowalski was no better, on the contrary he seemed +to get worse with every day, and we were all convinced that this +illness was his last. God knows whether he was equally convinced, but +he certainly had a foreboding of his death, for he hardly ever talked +now. For a few days longer he obstinately struggled against the +weakness which was overpowering him, and walked about his yurta, even +tinkered at some brushes which he had begun; at last he gave it up and +took to his bed. One morning, when I had just sat down to my breakfast, +the locksmith Wladyslaw Piotrowski, Kowalski's nearest friend, came to +my window and asked me to accompany him to our patient. + +'It might ease his last hour when he sees that he is not quite +forsaken,' said the kind man. 'Perhaps you would like to take a book +with you,' he added. I took the New Testament and went with him. + +'Is he so very bad?' I asked on the way. + +'I should think so; he looks quite black and says himself that he is +sure he will die to-day.' + +We soon arrived at Kowalski's yurta. There was no trace of the usual +sick-room smell of medicines, for Kowalski believed neither in doctors +nor in medicines. But an air of sadness and desolation pervaded the +room. The little dog lay curled up under the bed, from which, +notwithstanding the open window, an unpleasant smell reminded one that +the sick man was no longer able to get up. + +He looked so unlike a living being that we concluded, on entering and +seeing him lying there with his eyes closed, that he was dead. The +locksmith went up to the bed, put his hand under the bedclothes and +touched his feet; they were cold. But Kowalski called out loudly and +emphatically as I had never heard him before: + +'I am alive! I am glad that you have come, for I should like to speak +to you of death.' + +The haste and anxiety with which these words were uttered bore out our +premonition that we had only just come in time; we looked at each +other; Kowalski caught this look and understood it. + +'I know,' he said, 'that I shall die soon, it would be vain to hide +from myself what I can see quite clearly. That is why I want to speak +to you. I was afraid no one would come... I was afraid no one would +hear what I have got to say and that he whom you call the Merciful God +would take away my power of speech... I thank you for your thought. May +you not be lonely either when your hour of death calls you from an +unhappy life.' + +Kowalski stopped; only his brow, which was alternately contracted and +smoothed, showed that the dying man was trying with his last remnant of +strength to collect his thoughts and to retain the last spark of life. + +It was early morning, and the sun threw two great sheaves of golden +rays through the window on to the wall where the bed stood. From the +wide expanse of fields and the archipelago of islands in the river, +redolent with luxurious vegetation, life and the echoes of life and +movement emanated like a melodious song, a great hymn of thanksgiving +in the bright sunshine; it penetrated to the bed of the dying man and +formed an indescribable contrast to what was passing inside the yurta. + +This brightness, this noise as of a great song of life, was like an +irony, like scorn levelled at the deathbed of this living corpse.... + + + +Meanwhile Kowalski had begun to speak. + +'Long ago,' he said--'it must be about forty years--I was exiled to the +steppes of Orenburg. I was young and strong, I trusted in God and had +confidence in men and in myself. I may have been right or I may have +been wrong, but I thought it was my duty not to leave my energy to the +chance of fate, but to try and find a wider field of activity than was +open to me in this country. Homesickness too urged me on, and after two +years I escaped.... + +'I was punished by being sent to Tomsk, but this did not daunt me. I +started my life afresh with renewed energy, lived on bread and water +until I had saved enough for what I needed, and escaped again.... + +'For this second flight I was punished as an obstinate backslider, and +it took several years before I could make another attempt, but that +time I got farther away than before. It was an unusually hard winter, I +had no money and only insufficient clothing. My feet were frostbitten, +and I lost my toes. That was a hard blow, especially as they sent me +beyond the Yenessi this time. + +'My situation was difficult; the country was dreary and desolate, it +was hard to earn a living. But although I had no toes I managed to +learn a trade or two, and one or the other used to bring me in a little +income, small but sure. + +'This time I waited six years, then, without regard for the state of my +feet, I started off again.... + +'You see, I had no more confidence in my strength. I was ill and +broken, it was not the same goal as before that drew me westwards.... I +wanted to die there... to die there.... + +'I dreamt of dying on my mother's grave as of a great happiness. + +'My life had been such that no one except my mother had ever been good +to me; I had had no sweetheart, no wife, no children.... + +'And now, feeling weak and forsaken, I longed for the grave of this one +being who had loved me. + +'In sleepless nights I felt her hand touching my head, her kiss and the +hot tears with which she took her last leave of me, conscious perhaps +that our separation would be eternal. I do not know even now whether +the longing for my mother or for my native land was the stronger. But +it was a hard pilgrimage this time. I could not walk fast because of +the wounds on my feet which kept breaking open. I often had to hide for +days in the woods like a wild animal. + +'Vultures and crows[1]--ill omens of the end--circled over my head, +scenting their prey. Worn out with hunger I broke down from time to +time, and...fool that I was, I always prayed. I implored the Almighty +God, the merciful God, the just God, the God of the poor, the God of +the forsaken: + +[Footnote 1: Siberian fugitives look upon them with superstition.] + +'"Help me, have mercy on me! Gracious Father! send me death, I ask for +no other mercy than death! I will give it to myself, but only +there...." + +'Two years passed before I reached the province of Perm. I had never +before got so far. My heart began to beat joyously, in my head there +was only one thought: "I shall see my beloved native soil, and I shall +die at my beloved mother's grave." When I left the Ural behind me I +definitely believed in my salvation, I threw myself down upon the +ground, and for a long, long time I lay there, sobbing and thanking God +for His grace and His mercy. But He, the Merciful, was only preparing +His last blow, and that same day.... Then they took me as far as +Yakutsk!... + +'Why did I live on so long in this misery? + +'Why did I wait here for such an end as this? + +'Because I wanted to see what God intended to do to me. 'Now see what +He has made of a human being who trusted Him like a child, who has +never known what happiness in this world meant, nor demanded it, who +has never received love from anyone but his mother and, although maimed +and crippled, has worked hard until the end, never stretched out his +hands for alms, never stolen or coveted his neighbours' possessions, +who has ever given away the half of what he had... see what He has made +of me!... + +'That is why I hate Him, no longer trust in Him....I don't believe in +His Saints or His Judgment or His Justice; hear me, brothers, I call +you to witness in the hour of my death, so that you should know it and +can testify to it before Him when you die.' + +He raised himself with an effort, stretched out his hands towards the +sun and called with a loud voice: + +'I, a dying worm, truly acknowledge Thee to be the God of the satiated, +the God of the wicked, the God of the impure, and that Thou hast ruined +me, a guiltless man!...' + + + +The sun had risen higher and was now gilding the bed of pain of this +living skeleton--terrible to behold in his loose skin. + +When he sank back exhausted, we were shocked, for we thought that he +would give up the ghost before we had time to comfort him and ease his +last hour. + +'Let us pray for him,' whispered the locksmith. We knelt down; with +trembling hands I pulled out the book; it opened of itself where a +bookmarker had been placed at the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of +St. John. + +Raising my voice I began to read: + +'I am the true Vine and My Father is the Husbandman.' + +The dying man's chest heaved violently, his eyes were closed. He was +now quite covered by the golden rays; it seemed as if the sun meant to +reward him at the last moment for his hard life, so closely did the +rays hug him, warming his stiff limbs, calming him, kissing him as a +mother kisses and caresses her drowsy child and wraps it round with her +own warmth. + +Kowalski was still alive. + +I continued to read the words of Christ, so full of power and faith and +deep, blessed hope: + +'If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated +you...' + +The inspiring words of the Comforter of sufferers and the caress of the +vivifying light eased the dying man's pain. He opened his eyes and two +great tears welled forth--the last tears which this man had to spare. + +The rays of the sun kissed the tears on his ashen countenance and made +them shine with divine light; it seemed as if they endeavoured to +present to their Creator in pure colours the burning fire which had +consumed this man and was concentrated in his tears. + +I read on: + +'Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the +world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall +be turned into joy...' + +The dying man tried to lift his hands, they fell back powerless, but he +murmured in a low, distinct voice: 'Lord, by Thy pain forgive me!' + +I could not read further. In silence we knelt, and the dog stood +between us, puzzled and looking at his master. Once more the dying +man's eyes turned towards us, he opened his mouth, and we heard him say +yet more slowly and weakly: 'Doggy, do not bark at the Almighty.' + +The faithful creature threw himself whining upon his master's limp +hand, from which the life had already fled. + +Kowalski's eyes closed, a short, dull rattle came from his throat, his +chest sank back, he stretched himself a little: the life of suffering +was ended. + + + +When we recovered ourselves we heard the violent barking of the dog, +who, without understanding his master's last wish, was faithfully +carrying out the sole duty of his life. He barked and growled +incessantly, and came back from time to time to the bed and his +master's limply hanging hand in expectation of the usual caress. + +But his master lay immovable, the cold hand hung stiffly; exhausted and +hoarse the dog ran out again into the enclosure. + +We left; but at a long distance from the yurta we could still hear the +barking of the senseless creature. + + + + +FOREBODINGS + + +TWO SKETCHES BY + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI[1] + +[Footnote 1: The accent on the Z softens the sound approximately to +that of the French g in _gele_.] + + + + +I had spent an hour at the railway station, waiting for the train to +come in. I had stared indifferently at several ladies in turn who were +yawning in the corners of the waiting-room. Then I had tried the effect +of making eyes at a fair-haired young girl with a small white nose, +rosy cheeks, and eyes like forget-me-nots; she had stuck out her tongue +(red as a field-poppy) at me, and I was now at a loss to know what to +do next to kill time. + +Fortunately for me two young students entered the waiting-room. They +looked dirty from head to foot, mud-bespattered, untidy, and exhausted +with travelling. One of them, a fair boy with a charming profile, +seemed absent-minded or depressed. He sat down in a corner, took off +his cap, and hid his face in his hands. His companion bought his ticket +for him, sat down beside him, and grasped his hand from time to time. + +'Why should you despair? All may yet be well. Listen, Anton.' + +'No, it's no good, he is dying, I know it.... I know... perhaps he is +dead already.' + +'Don't believe it! Has your father ever had this kind of attack +before?' + +'He has; he has suffered from his heart for three years. He used to +drink at times. Think of it, there are eight of us, some are young +children, and my mother is delicate. In another six months his pension +would have been due. Terribly hard luck!' + +'You are meeting trouble half-way, Anton.' + +The bell sounded, and the waiting-room became a scene of confusion. +People seized their luggage and trampled on each other's toes; the +porter who stood at the entrance-door was stormed with questions. There +was bustle and noise everywhere. I entered the third-class carriage in +which the fair-haired student was sitting. His friend had put him into +it, settling him in the corner-seat beside the window, as if he were an +invalid, and urging him to take comfort. It did not come easy to him, +the words seemed to stick in his throat. The fair-haired boy's face +twitched convulsively, and his eyelids closed over his moist eyes. + +'Anton, my dear fellow,' the other said, 'well, you understand what I +mean; God knows. You may be sure... confound it all!' + +The second bell sounded, and then the third. The sympathizing friend +stepped out of the carriage, and, as the train started, he waved an odd +kind of farewell greeting, as if he were threatening him with his +fists. + +In the carriage were a number of poor people, Jews, women with +enormously wide cloaks, who had elbowed their way to their seats, and +sat chattering or smoking. + +The student stood up and looked out of the window without seeing. Lines +of sparks like living fire passed by the grimy window-pane, and balls +of vapour and smoke, resembling large tufts of wool, were dashed to +pieces and hurried to the ground by the wind. The smoke curled round +the small shrubs growing close to the ground, moistened by the rain in +the valley. The dusk of the autumn day spread a dim light over the +landscape, and produced an effect of indescribable melancholy. Poor +boy! Poor boy! + +The loneliness of boundless sorrow was expressed in his weary look as +he gazed out of the window. I knew that the pivot on which all his +emotions turned was the anxiety of uncertainty, and that beyond the +bounds of conscious thought an unknown loom was weaving for him a +shadowy thread of hope. He saw, he heard nothing, while his vacant eyes +followed the balls of smoke. As the train travelled along, I knew that +he was miserable, tired out, that he would have liked to cry quietly. +The thread of hope wound itself round his heart: Who could tell? +perhaps his father was recovering, perhaps all would be well? + +Suddenly (I knew it would come), the blood rushed from his face, his +lips went pale and tightened; he was gazing into the far distance with +wide-open eyes. It was as if a threatening hand, piercing the grief, +loneliness and dread that weighed on him, was pointing at him, as if +the wind were rousing him with the cry: 'Beware!' His thread of hope +was strained to breaking-point, and the naked truth, which he had not +quite faced till that minute, struck him through the heart like a +sword. + +Had I approached him at that instant, and told him I was an omniscient +spirit and knew his village well, and that his father was not lying +dead, he would have fallen at my feet and believed, and I should have +done him an infinite kindness. + +But I did not speak to him, and I did not take his hand. All I wished +to do was merely to watch him with the interest and insatiable +curiosity which the human heart ever arouses in me. + + + + 'Let my fate go whither it listeth.' (_Oedipus Tyrannus_.) + +In the darkest corner of the ward, in the bed marked number +twenty-four, a farm labourer of about thirty years of age had been +lying for several months. A black wooden tablet, bearing the words +'Caries tuberculosa', hung at the head of the bed, and shook at each +movement of the patient. The poor fellow's leg had had to be amputated +above the knee, the result of a tubercular decay of the bone. He was a +peasant, a potato-grower, and his forefathers had grown potatoes before +him. He was now on his own, after having been in two situations; had +been married for three years and had a baby son with a tuft of flaxen +hair. Then suddenly, from no cause that he could tell, his knee had +pained him, and small ulcers had formed. He had afforded himself a +carriage to the town, and there he had been handed over to the hospital +at the expense of the parish. + +He remembered distinctly how on that autumn afternoon he had driven in +the splendid, cushioned carriage with his young wife, how they had both +wept with fright and grief, and when they had finished crying had eaten +hard-boiled eggs: but what had happened after that had all become +blurred--indescribably misty. Yet only partially so. + +Of the days in the hospital with their routine and monotony, creating +an incomprehensible break in his life, his memory retained nothing; but +the unchanging grief, weighing like a slab of stone on a grave, was +ever present in his soul with inexorable and brutal force during these +many months. He only half recalled the strange wonders that had been +worked on him: bathing, feeding, probing into the wound, and later on +the operation. He had been carried into a room full of gentlemen +wearing aprons spotted with blood; he was conscious also of the +mysterious, intrepid courage which, like a merciful hand, had supported +him from that hour. + +After having gazed at the awe-inspiring phenomena which surrounded him +in the semicircle of the hospital theatre, he had slept during the +operation. His simple heart had not worked out the lesson which sleep, +the greatest mistress on earth, teaches. After the operation everything +had been veiled by mortal lassitude. This had continued, but in the +afternoon and at night they had mixed something heavy, like a stone +ball, into his drinking-cup, and waves of warmth had flowed to the toes +of his healthy foot from the cup. Thoughts chased one another swiftly, +like tiny quicksilver balls through some corner of his brain, and while +he lay bathed in perspiration, and his eyelids closed of their own +accord, not in sleep but in unconsciousness, he had been pursued by +strange, half-waking visions. + +Everything real seemed to disappear, only dimly lighted, vacant space +remained, pervaded by the smell of chloroform. He seemed to be in the +interior of a huge cone, stretching along the ground like a tunnel. Far +away in the distance, where it narrowed towards the opening, there was +a sparkling, white spot; if he could get there, he might escape. He +seemed to be travelling day and night towards that chink along unending +spiral lines running within the surface of the tunnel; he travelled +under compulsion and with great effort, slowly, like a snail, although +within him something leapt up like a rabbit caught in a snare, or as if +wings were fluttering in his soul. He knew what was beyond that chink. +Only a few steps would lead him to the ridge under the wood... to his +own four strips of potato-field! And whenever he roused himself +mechanically from his apathy he had a vision of the potato-harvest. The +transparent autumn-haze in the fields was bringing objects that were +far off into relief, and making them appear perfectly distinct. He saw +himself together with his young wife, digging beautiful potatoes, large +as their fists. + +On the hillock, amid the stubble, the herdsmen were assembled in +groups, their wallets slung round them; they were crouching on their +heels, had collected dry juniper and lighted a fire; with bits of +sticks they were scraping out the baked potatoes from the ashes. The +rising smoke scented the air fragrantly with juniper. + +At times, when he was better and more himself, when the fever tormented +him less, he sank into the state of timidity and apprehension known +only to those harassed almost beyond human endurance and to the dying. +Fear oppressed him till his whole being shrank into something less than +the smallest grain; he was hurled by fearful sounds and overawing +obsessions into a bottomless abyss. + +At last the wound on his foot began to heal, and the fever to abate. +His mind returned from that other world to the familiar one, and to +reflecting on what was taking place before his eyes. But the nature of +these reflections had changed. Formerly he had felt self-pity arising +from terror; now it was the wild hatred of the wounded man, his +overpowering desire for revenge; his rage turned as fiercely even upon +the unfortunate ones lying beside him as upon those who had maimed him. +But another idea had taken even more powerfully possession of his mind; +his thoughts darted forward like a pack of hounds on the trail, in +frantic pursuit of the power which had thus passed sentence on him. + +This condition of lonely self-torment lasted a long while, and +increased his exasperation. + +And then, one day, he noticed that his healthy foot was growing stiff +and the ankle swelling. When the head-surgeon came on his daily rounds, +the patient confided his fear to him. The doctor examined the emaciated +limb, unobserved lanced the abscess, perceived that the probe reached +to the bone, rubbed his hands together and looked into the peasant's +face with a sad, doubtful look. + +'This is a bad job, my good fellow. It may mean the other foot; was +that what you were thinking of? And you are a bad subject. But we will +do it for you here; you will be better off than in your cottage, we +will give you plenty to eat.' And he passed on, accompanied by his +assistant. At the door he turned back, bent over the sick man, and +furtively, so that no one should see, passed his hand kindly over his +head. + +The peasant's mind became a blank; it was as if someone had unawares +dealt him a blow in the dark with a club. He closed his eyes and lay +still for a long time... until an unknown feeling of calm came over +him. + +There is an enchanted, hidden spot in the human soul, fastened with +seven locks, which no one and nothing but that picklock, bitter +adversity, can open. + +Through the lips of the self-blinded Oedipus, Sophocles makes mention +of this secret place. Within it are hidden marvellous joy, sweet +necessity, the highest wisdom. + +As the poor fellow lay silently on his bed, the special conception that +arose in his mind was that of Christ walking on the waves of the raging +sea, quelling the storm. + +Henceforward through long nights and wretched days he was looking at +everything from an immeasurable distance, from a safe place, where all +was calm and wholly well, whence everything seemed small, slightly +ludicrous and foolish, and yet lovable. + +'And may the Lord Jesus...may He give His peace to all people,' he +whispered to himself. 'Never mind, this will do as well for me!' + + + + + +A POLISH SCENE + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT[1] + +[Footnote 1: The stroke softens the l approximately to the sound of w.] + + +[The place is a solitary inn in Russian Poland, near the Prussian +frontier, kept by a Jew named Herszlik, part of whose occupation is to +smuggle emigrants for America by night across the border. Besides +emigrants and Herszlik are present an old beggar man and his wife or +'doxy', a couple of peasants drinking together, and Jan (or, in +diminutive form, Jasiek), a youth who has just escaped from a prison to +which he had been sentenced for an attack, under great provocation, on +a steward, and now creeps into the inn out of the surrounding forest.] + + + + +It was a night of March, a night of rain, cold, and tempest. + +The forest, cramped, stiff, soaked to its marrow, and agitated now and +then by an icy shiver, threw out its boughs in a sort of feverish panic +as if to shake the water from them, and roared the wild note of a +creature in torture. At times a damp snow stilled all to helpless +silence, broken by a passing groan or the cry of some frozen bird or +rattle of some body falling on the boughs. Then once more the wind +flung itself with fury on the woods, dug into their depths with its +teeth, tore off boughs, and with a roar of triumph whistled along the +glades and swept the forest as with a besom; or from out of the depths +of space huge mud-coloured clouds, like piles of rotting hay, strangled +the trees in their embrace, or dissolved in a cold unceasing drizzle +that might have penetrated a stone. The roads were deserted, flooded +with a mixture of mud and foul snow; the villages seemed dead, the +fields shrivelled, the rivers ice-fettered; man and life were to be +seen nowhere; night ruled alone. + +Only in the single inn of Przylecki shone a small light; it stood in +the middle of the forest at cross roads; a few cottages were visible on +the side of a hill: the rest was the mighty forest. + +Jasiek Winciorek pushed forward cautiously from the wood to the road, +and at sight of the blinking light walked stealthily to the window, +peeped in, then in timid perplexity drew back a few steps till a fresh +blast of wind froze him so that the poor boy turned back once more, +crossed himself, and entered. + +The inn was large, with a floor of clay, and a black ceiling resting on +walls out of the perpendicular; these had lost their whitewash, and +were pierced by two small windows half-choked up with straw. Directly +opposite the latter, behind a wooden railing, stood a cask resting on +other barrels, above which smoked the red glare of a naphtha lamp. Over +the room lay a dense darkness, only lightened now and then with flashes +from an expiring fire in a large old-world fire-place, before which sat +a pair of beggars. In a corner might be seen a number of persons +huddled together whispering mysteriously. By the cask were two +peasants, one clasping a bottle, the other holding out a glass; they +often drank healths to one another and nodded sleepily. A fat red +damsel was snoring behind the railing. Over all there spread a smell +compounded of whisky, sodden clay, and soaked rags. + +At times such a stillness fell on the room that one could hear the +sounds of the forest, the tinkle of the rain on the window-panes, the +crackling of the pine boughs in the fireplace. And then a low door +behind the railing opened with a creak, and there appeared the old grey +head of a Jew, dressed in his praying gown, and singing in a low voice, +while behind him shone a room lighted with small candles, from which +issued Sabbath smells and a quiet monotonous dreary sound of singing. +Jasiek drank a few glasses one after the other, gnawed half-consciously +some mouldy rolls as tough as leather, which he seasoned with a +herring, and looked now at the door, now at the window, or listened to +the murmur of the voices. + +'Marry, no, curse it, I won't marry!' suddenly shouted one of the two +peasants, knocking his bottle on the cask and spitting as far as the +shoulder of the beggar man at the fire. + +'But you must,' whispered the other, 'or repay the money.' + +'God! that's nothing! Jevka!'--this to the girl--'half a pint of +whisky! I pay!' + +'Money is a big thing, though a woman is a bigger.' + +'No, curse it, I won't marry! I'll sell myself, borrow, pay back the +money, rather than marry that harridan.' + +'Just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say to you.' + +'You won't get round me. I have said no, and that is no. Why, if I +must, I will run away to Brazil or the end of the world with those folk +yonder!' + +'Silly! just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say +to you.' + +They drank healths to one another several times, then began kissing, +then fell silent, for a child was crying in a corner, and a movement +began among the quiet timid crowd. + +A tall dried-up peasant appeared out of the darkness and walked out of +the inn. + +Jasiek moved up to the fire, for the cold was in his bones, and putting +his herring on a stick began to toast it over the coals. 'Move up a +bit,' he whispered to the beggar man, who had his feet on his wallet, +and though quite blind, was drying at the fire the soaked strips he +wore round his legs, and talking endlessly in a low voice to the woman +by him; she was cooking something and arranging boughs under a tripod +on which stood a pot. + +Jasiek got warmer, and steam as from a bucket of boiling water went up +from his long coat. + +'You are badly soaked,' whispered the beggar, sniffing. + +'I am,' said Jasiek in a whisper, shivering. The door creaked, but it +was only the thin peasant returning. + +'Who is that?' whispered Jasiek, tapping the beggar on the arm. + +'Those? I don't know him; but those are silly fools going to Brazil.' +He spat. + +Jasiek said not a word, but went on drying himself and moving his eyes +about the room, where the people, apparently grown uneasy, now talked +with increasing loudness, now fell suddenly silent, while every moment +one of them went out of the inn, and returned immediately. + +From the inner room the monotonous chant still reached them. A hungry +dog crept out from nowhere to the fire and began to growl at the +beggars, but getting a blow from a stick he howled with pain, settled +himself in the middle of the room, and with a piteous look gazed at the +steam rising from the pot. + +Jasiek was getting warmer; he had eaten his herring and rolls, but +still felt more sharply than ever that he wanted something. He minutely +searched his pockets, but not finding even a farthing there, doubled +himself together and gazed idly at the pot and the beams of the fire. + +'You want to eat--eh?' asked the beggar woman presently. + +'I have... a small rumbling in my belly.' + +'Who is it?' the beggar man softly inquired of the woman. + +'Don't be afraid,' she growled with malice: 'he won't give you a +threepenny bit, not so much as a farthing.' + +'A farmer?' + +'Yes, a farmer, like you: one who goes about the world'--and she took +the pot off the tripod. + +'And there are good people in the world--and wild beasts--and pigs out +of sties.... Hey?' said the beggar man, poking Jasiek with his stick. + +'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, not knowing what he said. + +'You have something on your mind, I see,' whispered the beggar. + +'I have.' + +'The Lord Jesus always said: "If you are hungry, eat; if you are +thirsty, drink; but if you are in trouble, don't chatter."' + +'Eat a little,' the woman begged the boy; 'it is beggars' food, but it +will do you good,' and she poured out a liberal portion on a plate. +From the bag she drew out a piece of brown bread and put it in the soup +unnoticed; then as he moved up to eat and she saw his worn grey face, +mere skin and bone, pity so moved her that she took out a piece of +sausage and laid it on the bread. + +Jasiek could not resist but ate greedily, from time to time throwing a +bone to the dog, who had crept up with entreating eyes. + +The beggar man listened a long time; then, when the woman put the pot +into his hands, he raised his spoon and said solemnly: + +'Eat, man. The Lord Jesus said, give a beggar a farthing and another +shall repay thee ten. God be with you!' + +They ate in silence, till in an interval the beggar rubbed his mouth +with his cuff and said: + +'Three things are needful for food to do you good--spirit, salt, bread. +Give us spirit, woman!' + +All three drank together and then went on eating. + +Jasiek had almost forgotten his danger and threw no more timid looks +around. He just ate, sated himself with warmth, sated slowly the +four-days' hunger that gnawed him, and felt peaceful in the quietness. + +The two peasants had left the cask, but the crowd in the corner on +benches or with their bags under their heads on the wet floor were +still quietly dreaming; and still came, but in ever sleepier tones, the +sound of singing from the inner room. And the rain was still falling +and penetrating the roof in some places; it dripped from the ceiling +and formed shining sticky circles of mud on the clay floor. And still +at times the wind shook the inn or howled in the fire-place, scattered +the burning boughs and drove smoke into the room. + +'There is something for you too, vagabond!' whispered the woman, giving +the rest of the food to the dog, who flitted about them with beseeching +eyes. + +Then the beggar spoke. 'With food in his belly a man is not badly off, +even in hell,' he said, setting down the empty pot. + +'God repay you for feeding me!' said Jasiek, and squeezed the beggar's +hand; the other did not at once let him go, but felt his hand +carefully. + +'For a few years you have not worked with your hands,' he murmured; but +Jan tore his hand away in a fright. + +'Sit down,' continued the beggar, 'don't be afraid. The Lord Jesus +said: "All are just men who fear God and help the poor orphan." +Fearnot, man. I am no Judas nor Jew, but an honest Christian and a poor +orphan myself.' + +He thought for a moment, then in a quiet voice said: + +'Attend to three things: love the Lord Jesus, never be hungry, and give +to a man more unfortunate than yourself. All the rest is just nothing, +rotten fancies. A wise man should never vex himself uselessly. Ho! we +know a dozen things. Eh, what do you say?' + +He pricked up his ears and waited, but Jasiek remained stubbornly +silent, fearing to betray himself; then the beggar brought out his bark +snuffbox, tapped it with his finger, took snuff, sneezed, and handed it +to the boy. Then, bending his huge blind face over the fire, he began +to talk in low monotonous tones. + +'There is no justice in the world; all men are Pharisees and rogues; +one man pushes another in front of him out of the way; each tries to be +the first to cheat the other, to eat him up. That wasn't the will of +the Lord Jesus. Ho! go into a squire's house, take off your cap, and +sing, though your throat is bursting, about Jesus and Mary and all the +Saints; then wait--nothing comes. Put in a few prayers about the Lord's +Transfiguration; then wait. Nothing again. No, only the small dogs +whine about your wallet and the maids bustle behind the hedges. Add a +litany--perhaps they give you two farthings or a mouldy bit of bread. +Curse you! I wish you were dirty, half-blind, and had to ask even +beggars for help! Why, after all that praying the whisky to wash my +throat with costs me more than they give!' He spat with disgust. + +'But are others better off, eh?' he continued, after a sniff. 'Jantek +Kulik--I dare say you know him--took a little pig of a squire's. And +what enjoyment did he have of it? Precious little. It was a miserable +creature, like a small yard dog; you could drown the whole body of him +in a quart of whisky. Well, for that he was arrested and put in prison +for half a year--and for what? for a miserable pig! as if a pig weren't +one of God's creatures too, and some were meant to die of hunger, and +some to have more than they can stuff into their throats. And yet the +Lord Jesus said: "What a poor man takes, that is as if you had given it +for My sake." Amen. Won't you take a drink?' + +'God repay you, but it has already turned my head a bit!' + +'Silly! the Lord Jesus himself drank at feasts. Drinking is no sin; it +is a sin, sure enough, to swill like a pig or to sit without talking +when good folk are gossiping, but not to drink the gift of God to the +bottom. You just drink my health,' he whispered resolutely. + +He drank himself from the bottle with a long gurgle in his throat; then +handing it to Jasiek, said merrily: + +'Drink, orphan. Observe only three things--to work the whole week, to +say your Paternoster, and on Sunday to give to the unfortunate, and +then you shall have redemption for your soul. Man, if you can't drink a +gallon, drink a quart!' + +Thereupon all fell silent. The woman was sleeping with her head +drooping by the extinct flame, the man had opened wide his +cataract-covered eyes at the glowing coals, and once and again nodded +vigorously. In the corner the whispers were silent; only the wind +struck the panes more violently than ever and shook the door, and from +the inner room burst forth the voices in an ecstasy, it seemed, of pity +or despair. + +Jasiek, overcome by the warmth of the whisky, felt sleepy, stretched +his legs out towards the fire, and felt an irresistible desire to lie +down. He fought against it with energetic movements, but every now and +then became utterly stiff and remembered nothing. A pleasant warm mist +compounded out of the beams of the fire, kindly words, and stillness, +wrapped him in darkness and a deep sense of freedom and security. At +times he woke suddenly, he could not have said why, glanced over the +room, or listened for a moment to the beggar, who was asleep but still +muttered: 'For all souls in Purgatory--Ave Maria, gratia plena,' and +then, 'Man, I tell you that a good beggar should have a stick with a +point, a deep wallet, and a long Paternoster.' Here he woke up, and +feeling Jasiek's eyes on him, recovered his wits and began to speak: + +'Hear what an old man says. Take a drop to my health, and listen. Man, +I tell you, be prudent, but don't force it into any one's eyes. Note +everything, and yet be blind to everything. If you live with a fool, be +a greater fool; with a lame man, have no legs at all; with a sick man, +die for him. If men give you a farthing, thank them as if it were a bit +of silver; if they set dogs on you, take it as your offering to the +Lord Jesus; if they beat you with a stick, say your Paternoster. + +'Man, I tell you, do as I advise and you shall have your wallet full, +your belly like a mountain, and you shall lead the whole world in a +string like silly cattle.... Eh, eh, I am a man not born to-day but one +that knows a dozen things. He that can observe the way of the world, no +trouble shall come to him. At the squire's house take your revenge on +the peasants; that is a sure farthing and perhaps a morsel from the +dinner; at the priest's abuse the peasants and the squires; that is two +farthings sure, and absolution too; and when you are in the cottages, +abuse everything, and you will eat millet and bacon, and drink whisky +mixed with fat.' + +Here he began to drowse, still murmuring incoherently, 'Man, I tell +you... for the soul of Julina... Ave Maria...', and rocked on the +bench. + +'Gratia plena... help a poor cripple!' This was the woman babbling in +her sleep, as she raised her head from the fire-place; but the man woke +up suddenly and cried, 'Be quiet, silly!' for the entrance door was +thrown loudly open, and there pushed in among them a tall yellow-haired +Jew. + +'On to the road,' he called in a deep voice, 'it's time'; and at once +the whole crowd of sleepers sprang to their feet, began to put their +loads on their backs, to get ready, to push forward into the middle of +the room and again for no reason to retire. A low tumult of +sound--abuse or complaint--burst from all: there were hot passages of +words, cries, curses, gesticulations, or the beginnings of muttered +prayers, noise, and crying children--but all kept under restraint, and +yet filling the gloomy blackened room with a sense of alarm. + +Jasiek awoke completely, and with his shoulders pressed to the now +cooling fireplace, looked round curiously at the people as far as he +could make them out. + +'Where are they going?' he asked the beggar. + +'To Brazil.' + +'Is it far?' + +'Ho! ho! it's the end of the world, beyond the tenth sea.' + +'And why?' + +'First because they are fools, and second because they are +unfortunate.' + +'And do they know the way?' Jasiek asked again, hugely astonished. + +But the beggar was no longer answering him; pushing on the woman with a +stick, he came forward into the middle of the room, fell on his knees, +and began in a sort of plaintive chant: + +'You are going beyond the seas, the mountains, the forests--to the end +of the world. The Lord Jesus bless you, orphans! The Virgin of +Czenstochowa keep you, and all the saints help you in return for the +farthing that you give to this poor cripple...To the Lord's +Transfiguration! Ave Maria....' + +'Gratia plena: the Lord be with you,' murmured the woman, kneeling at +his side. + +'Blessed art thou among women,' answered the crowd and pressed forward. + +All knelt; a subdued sobbing arose; heads were bowed; trusting and +resigned hearts breathed their emotions in prayer. A warm glow of trust +kindled the dull eyes and pinched faces, straightened the bent +shoulders, and gave them such force that they rose from their prayer +heartened and unconquerable. + +'Herszlik, Herszlik!' they called to the Jew, who had disappeared into +the inner room. They were eager now to go into that unknown world, so +terrible and yet so alluring for its very strangeness; eager to take on +their shoulders their new fate and to escape from the old. + +Herszlik came out armed with a dark lantern, counted the people, made +them range themselves in pairs, opened the door: they began to move +like some phantom army of misery, a column of ragged shadows, and +disappeared at once in the darkness and rain. For a moment there shone +in the gloom and amid the tossing trees the solitary light of their +guide, for a moment one could hear amid wailing a tremulous hymn, 'He +who casts himself on the care of the Lord....' Then the storm broke out +again in what seemed like the groan of dying masses. + +'Poor creatures! orphans!' whispered Jasiek; a wild grief filled his +heart. + +Then he returned to the inn, now dumb and dark, for the girl had +extinguished the light and gone to sleep, and the singing had ceased in +the inner room: only the beggar remained awake; he and the woman were +counting the people's alms. + +'A poor parish! two threepenny bits and five and twenty farthings--the +whole show! Ha! May the Lord Jesus never remember them or help them!' + +He went on babbling, but Jasiek no longer listened. Crouched in the +fire-place he hid himself as best he could in his still wet cloak and +fell into a stony sleep. + +A good while after midnight he was awakened by a sharp tug; a light +shone straight into his eyes. + +'Hey, brother, get up! Who are you? Have you your passport?' + +He came to his senses at once: two policemen stood over him. + +'Have you your passport?' the policeman asked again, shaking him like a +bundle of straw. + +But for answer Jasiek jumped to his feet and struck the man with his +fist between the eyes, so that he dropped his lantern and fell +backwards, while Jasiek darted to the door and ran out. The other +policeman chased him, and being unable to catch him, fired. + +Jasiek tottered a moment, shrieked, and fell in the mud, then jumped up +at once and was lost in the darkness of the forest. + + + + + + +DEATH + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + + +'Father, eh, father, get up, do you hear?--Eh, get a move on!' + +'Oh God, oh Blessed Virgin! Aoh!' groaned the old man, who was being +violently shaken. His face peeped out from under his sheepskin, a +sunken, battered, and deeply-lined face, of the same colour as the +earth he had tilled for so many years; with a shock of hair, grey as +the furrows of ploughed fields in autumn. His eyes were closed; +breathing heavily he dropped his tongue from his half-open bluish mouth +with cracked lips. + +'Get up! hi!' shouted his daughter. + +'Grandad!' whimpered a little girl who stood in her chemise and a +cotton apron tied across her chest, and raised herself on tiptoe to +look at the old man's face. + +'Grandad!' There were tears in her blue eyes and sorrow in her grimy +little face. 'Grandad!' she called out once more, and plucked at the +pillow. + +'Shut up!' screamed her mother, took her by the nape of the neck and +thrust her against the stove. + +'Out with you, damned dog!' she roared, when she stumbled over the old +half-blind bitch who was sniffing the bed. 'Out you go! will you...you +carrion!' and she kicked the animal so violently with her clog that it +tumbled over, and, whining, crept towards the closed door. The little +girl stood sobbing near the stove, and rubbed her nose and eyes with +her small fists. + +'Father, get up while I am still in a good humour!' + +The sick man was silent, his head had fallen on one side, his breathing +became more and more laboured. He had not much longer to live. + +'Get up. What's the idea? Do you think you are going to do your dying +here? Not if I know it! Go to Julina, you old dog! You've given the +property to Julina, let her look after you...come now...while I'm yet +asking you!' + +'Oh blessed Child Jesus! oh Mary....' + +A sudden spasm contracted his face, wet with anxiety and sweat. With a +jerk his daughter tore away the feather-bed, and, taking the old man +round the middle, she pulled him furiously half out of the bed, so that +only his head and shoulders were resting on it; he lay motionless like +a piece of wood, and, like a piece of wood, stiff and dried up. + +'Priest.... His Reverence...' he murmured under his heavy breathing. + +'I'll give you your priest! You shall kick your bucket in the pigsty, +you sinner...like a dog!' She seized him under the armpits, but dropped +him again directly, and covered him entirely with the feather-bed, for +she had noticed a shadow flitting past the window. Some one was coming +up to the house. + +She scarcely had time to push the old man's feet back into the bed. +Blue in the face, she furiously banged the feather-bed and pushed the +bedding about. + +The wife of the peasant Dyziak came into the room. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity...' growled the other, and glanced suspiciously at her out +of the corners of her eyes. + +'How do you do? Are you well?' + +'Thank God... so so...' + +'How's the old man? Well?' + +She was stamping the snow off her clogs near the door. + +'Eh... how should he be well? He can hardly fetch his breath any more.' + +'Neighbour... you don't say so... neighbour...' She was bending down +over the old man. + +'Priest,' he sighed. + +'Dear me... just fancy... dear me, he doesn't know me! The poor man +wants the priest. He's dying, that's certain, he's all but dead +already... dear me! Well, and did you send for his Reverence?' + +'Have I got any one to send?' + +'But you don't mean to let a Christian soul die without the sacrament?' + +'I can't run off and leave him alone, and perhaps...he may recover.' + +'Don't you believe it... hoho... just listen to his breathing. That +means that his inside is withering up. It's just as it was with my +Walek last year when he was so ill.' + +'Well, dear, you'd better go for the priest, make haste... look!' + +'All right, all right. Poor thing! He looks as if he couldn't last much +longer. I must make haste... I'm off...' and she tied her apron more +firmly over her head. + +'Good-bye, Antkowa.' + +'Go with God.' + +Dyziakowa went out, while the other woman began to put the room in +order; she scraped the dirt off the floor, swept it up, strewed +wood-ashes, scrubbed her pots and pans and put them in a row. From time +to time she turned a look of hatred on to the bed, spat, clenched her +fists, and held her head in helpless despair. + +'Fifteen acres of land, the pigs, three cows, furniture, clothes--half +of it, I'm sure, would come to six thousand... good God!' + +And as though the thought of so large a sum was giving her fresh +vigour, she scrubbed her saucepans with a fury that made the walls +ring, and banged them down on the board. + +'May you... may you!' She continued to count up: 'Fowls, geese, calves, +all the farm implements. And all left to that trull! May misery eat you +up... may the worms devour you in the ditch for the wrong you have done +me, and for leaving me no better off than an orphan!' + +She sprang towards the bed in a towering rage and shouted: + +'Get up! 'And when the old man did not move, she threatened him with +her fists and screamed into his face: + +'That's what you've come here for, to do your dying here, and I am to +pay for your funeral and buy you a hooded cloak... that's what he +thinks. I don't think! You won't live to see me do it! If your Julina +is so sweet, you'd better make haste and go to her. Was it I who was +supposed to look after you in your dotage? She is the pet, and if you +think...' + +She did not finish, for she heard the tinkling of the bell, and the +priest entered with the sacrament. + +Antkowa bowed down to his feet, wiping tears of rage from her eyes, and +after she had poured the holy water into a chipped basin and put the +asperges-brush beside it, she went out into the passage, where a few +people who had come with the priest were waiting already. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity.' + +'What is it?' + +'Oh nothing! Only that he's come here to give up... with us, whom he +has wronged. And now he won't give up. Oh dear me... poor me!' + +She began to cry. + +'That's true! He will have to rot, and you will have to live,' they all +answered in unison and nodded their heads. + +'One's own father,' she began again. '... Have we, Antek and I, not +taken care of him, worked for him, sweated for him, just as much as +they? Not a single egg would I sell, not half a pound of butter, but +put it all down his throat; the little drop of milk I have taken away +from the baby and given it to him, because he was an old man and my +father... and now he goes and gives it all to Tomek. Fifteen acres of +land, the cottage, the cows, the pigs, the calf, and the farm-carts and +all the furniture... is that nothing? Oh, pity me! There's no justice +in this world, none... Oh, oh!' + +She leant against the wall, sobbing loudly. + +'Don't cry, neighbour, don't cry. God is full of mercy, but not always +towards the poor. He will reward you some day.' + +'Idiot, what's the good of talking like that?' interrupted the +speaker's husband. 'What's wrong is wrong. The old man will go, and +poverty will stay.' + +'It's hard to make an ox move when he won't lift up his feet,' another +man said thoughtfully. + +'Eh... You can get used to everything in time, even to hell,' murmured +a third, and spat from between his teeth. + +The little group relapsed into silence. The wind rattled the door and +blew snow through the crevices on to the floor. The peasants stood +thoughtfully, with bared heads, and stamped their feet to get warm. The +women, with their hands under their cotton aprons, and huddled +together, looked with patient resigned faces towards the door of the +living-room. + +At last the bell summoned them into the room; they entered one by one, +pushing each other aside. The dying man was lying on his back, his head +deeply buried in the pillows; his yellow chest, covered with white +hair, showed under the open shirt. The priest bent over him and laid +the wafer upon his outstretched tongue. All knelt down and, with their +eyes raised to the ceiling, violently smote their chests, while they +sighed and sniffled audibly. The women bent down to the ground and +babbled: 'Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world.' + +The dog, worried by the frequent tinkling of the bell, growled +ill-temperedly in the corner. + +The priest had finished the last unction, and beckoned to the dying +man's daughter. 'Where's yours, Antkowa?' + +'Where should he be, your Reverence, if not at his daily job?' + +For a moment the priest stood, hesitating, looked at the assembly, +pulled his expensive fur tighter round his shoulders; but he could not +think of anything suitable to say; so he only nodded to them and went +out, giving them his white, aristocratic hand to kiss, while they bent +towards his knees. + +When he had gone they immediately dispersed. The short December day was +drawing to its close. The wind had gone down, but the snow was now +falling in large, thick flakes. The evening twilight crept into the +room. Antkowa was sitting in front of the fire; she broke off twig +after twig of the dry firewood, and carelessly threw them upon the +fire. + +She seemed to be purposing something, for she glanced again and again +at the window, and then at the bed. The sick man had been lying quite +still for a considerable time. She got very impatient, jumped up from +her stool and stood still, eagerly listening and looking about; then +she sat down again. + +Night was falling fast. It was almost quite dark in the room. The +little girl was dozing, curled up near the stove. The fire was +flickering feebly with a reddish light which lighted up the woman's +knees and a bit of the floor. + +The dog started whining and scratched at the door. The chickens on the +ladder cackled low and long. + +Now a deep silence reigned in the room. A damp chill rose from the wet +floor. + +Antkowa suddenly got up to peer through the window at the village +street; it was empty. The snow was falling thickly, blotting out +everything at a few steps' distance. Undecided, she paused in front of +the bed, but only for a moment; then she suddenly pulled away the +feather-bed roughly and determinedly, and threw it on to the other +bedstead. She took the dying man under the armpits and lifted him high +up. + +'Magda! Open the door.' + +Magda jumped up, frightened, and opened the door. + +'Come here...take hold of his feet.' + +Magda clutched at her grandfather's feet with her small hands and +looked up in expectation. + +'Well, get on...help me to carry him! Don't stare about...carry him, +that's what you've got to do!' she commanded again, severely. + +The old man was heavy, perfectly helpless, and apparently unconscious; +he did not seem to realize what was being done to him. She held him +tight and carried, or rather dragged him along, for the little girl had +stumbled over the threshold and dropped his feet, which were drawing +two deep furrows in the snow. + +The penetrating cold had restored the dying man to consciousness, for +in the yard he began to moan and utter broken words: + +'Julisha...oh God...Ju...' + +'That's right, you scream...scream as much as you like, nobody will +hear you, even if you shout your mouth off!' + +She dragged him across the yard, opened the door of the pigsty with her +foot, pulled him in, and dropped him close to the wall. + +The sow came forward, grunting, followed by her piglets. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came out of the sty and she banged the door, but returned +almost immediately, tore the shirt open on the old man's chest, tore +off his chaplet, and took it with her. + +'Now die, you leper!' + +She kicked his naked leg, which was lying across the opening, with her +clog, and went out. + +The pigs were running about in the yard; she looked back at them from +the passage. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came running up to her, squeaking; she brought out a bowlfull +of potatoes and emptied it. The mother-pig began to eat greedily, and +the piglets poked their pink noses into her and pulled at her until +nothing but their loud smacking could be heard. + +Antkowa lighted a small lamp above the fireplace and tore open the +chaplet, with her back turned towards the window. A sudden gleam came +into her eyes, when a number of banknotes and two silver roubles fell +out. + +'It wasn't just talk then, his saying that he'd put by the money for +the funeral.' She wrapped the money up in a rag and put it into the +chest. + +'You Judas! May eternal blindness strike you!' + +She put the pots and pans straight and tried to cheer the fire which +was going out. + +'Drat it! That plague of a boy has left me without a drop of water.' + +She stepped outside and called 'Ignatz! Hi! Ignatz!' + +A good half-hour passed, then the snow creaked under stealthy footsteps +and a shadow stole past the window. Antkowa seized a piece of wood and +stood by the door which was flung wide open; a small boy of about nine +entered the room. + +'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you? And not a drop +of water in the house!' + +Clutching him with one hand she beat the screaming child with the +other. + +'Mummy! I won't do it again.... Mummy, leave off.... Mumm...' + +She beat him long and hard, giving vent to all her pent-up rage. + +'Mother! Ow! All ye Saints! She's killing me!' + +'You dog! You're loafing about, and not a drop of water do you fetch +me, and there's no wood am I to feed you for nothing, and you worrying +me into the bargain?' She hit harder. + +At last he tore himself away, jumped out by the window, and shouted +back at her with a tear-choked voice: + +'May your paws rot off to the elbows, you dog of a mother! May you be +stricken down, you sow!... You may wait till you're manure before I +fetch you any water!' + +And he ran back to the village. + +The room suddenly seemed strangely empty. The lamp above the fireplace +trembled feebly. The little girl was sobbing to herself. + +'What are you snivelling about?' + +'Mummy...oh... oh...grandad...' + +She leant, weeping, against her mother's knee. + +'Leave off, idiot!' + +She took the child on her lap, and, pressing her close, she began to +clean her head. The little thing babbled incoherently, she looked +feverish; she rubbed her eyes with her small fists and presently went +to sleep, still sobbing convulsively from time to time. + +Soon afterwards the husband returned home. He was a huge fellow in a +sheepskin, and wore a muffler round his cap. His face was blue with +cold; his moustache, covered with hoar-frost, looked like a brush. He +knocked the snow off his boots, took muffler and cap off together, +dusted the snow off his fur, clapped his stiff hands against his arms, +pushed the bench towards the fire, and sat down heavily. + +Antkowa took a saucepan full of cabbage off the fire and put it in +front of her husband, cut a piece of bread and gave it him, together +with the spoon. The peasant ate in silence, but when he had finished he +undid his fur, stretched his legs, and said: 'Is there any more?' + +She gave him the remains of their midday porridge; he spooned it up +after he had cut himself another piece of bread; then he took out his +pouch, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, threw some sticks on the fire +and drew closer to it. A good while later he looked round the room. +'Where's the old man?' + +'Where should he be? In the pigsty.' + +He looked questioningly at her. + +'I should think so! What should he loll in the bed for, and dirty the +bedclothes? If he's got to give up, he will give up all the quicker in +there.... Has he given me a single thing? What should he come to me +for? Am I to pay for his funeral and give him his food? If he doesn't +give up now--and I tell you, he is a tough one--then he'll eat us out +of house and home. If Julina is to have everything let her look after +him--that's nothing to do with me.' + +'Isn't my father... and cheated us... he has. I don't care.... The old +speculator!' + +Antek swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and spat into the middle of +the room. + +'If he hadn't cheated us we should now have... wait a minute... we've +got five... and seven and a half... makes... five and... seven...' + +'Twelve and a half. I had counted that up long ago; we could have kept +a horse and three cows... bah!... the carrion!' + +Again he spat furiously. + +The woman got up, laid the child down on the bed, took the little rag +bundle from the chest and put it into her husband's hand. + +'What's that?' + +'Look at it.' + +He opened the linen rag. An expression of greed came into his face, he +bent forward towards the fire with his whole frame, so as to hide the +money, and counted it over twice. 'How much is it?' + +She did not know the money values. + +'Fifty-four roubles.' + +'Lord! So much?' + +Her eyes shone; she stretched out her hand and fondled the money. + +'How did you come by it?' + +'Ah bah... how? Don't you remember the old man telling us last year +that he had put by enough to pay for his funeral?' + +'That's right, he did say that.' + +'He had stitched it into his chaplet and I took it from him; holy +things shouldn't knock about in a pigsty, that would be sinful; then I +felt the silver through the linen, so I tore that off and took the +money. That is ours; hasn't he wronged us enough?' + +'That's God's truth. It's ours; that little bit at least is coming back +to us. Put it by with the other money, we can just do with it. Only +yesterday Smoletz told me he wanted to borrow a thousand roubles from +me; he will give his five acres of ploughed fields near the forest as +security.' + +'Have you got enough?' + +'I think I have.' + +'And will you begin to sow the fields yourself in the spring?' + +'Rather... if I shouldn't have quite enough now, I will sell the sow; +even if I should have to sell the little ones as well I must lend him +the money. For he won't be able to redeem it,' he added, 'I know what +I know. We shall go to the lawyer and make a proper contract that the +ground will be mine unless he repays the money within five years.' + +'Can you do that?' + +'Of course I can. How did Dumin get hold of Dyziak's fields?... Put it +away; you may keep the silver, buy what you like with it. Where's +Ignatz?' + +'He's run off somewhere. Ha! no water, it's all gone....' + +The peasant got up without a word, looked after the cattle, went in and +out, fetched water and wood. + +The supper was boiling in the saucepan. Ignatz cautiously crept into +the room; no one spoke to him. They were all silent and strangely ill +at ease. The old man was not mentioned; it was as if he had never been. + +Antek thought of his five acres; he looked upon them as a certainty. +Momentarily the old man came into his mind, and then again the sow he +had meant to kill when she had finished with the sucking-pigs. Again +and again he spat when his eyes fell on the empty bedstead, as if he +wanted to get rid of an unpleasant thought. He was worried, did not +finish his supper, and went to bed immediately after. He turned over +from side to side; the potatoes and cabbage, groats and bread gave him +indigestion, but he got over it and went to sleep. + +When all was silent, Antkowa gently opened the door into the next room +where the bundles of flax lay. From underneath these she fetched a +packet of banknotes wrapped up in a linen rag, and added the money. She +smoothed the notes many times over, opened them out, folded them up +again, until she had gazed her fill; then she put out the light and +went to bed beside her husband. + +Meanwhile the old man had died. The pigsty, a miserable lean-to run up +of planks and thatched with branches, gave no protection against wind +and weather. No one heard the helpless old man entreating for mercy in +a voice trembling with despair. No one saw him creep to the closed door +and raise himself with a superhuman effort to try and open it. He felt +death gaining upon him; from his heels it crept upwards to his chest, +holding it as in a vice, and shaking him in terrible spasms; his jaws +closed upon each other, tighter and tighter, until he was no longer +able to open them and scream. His veins were hardening till they felt +like wires. He reared up feebly, till at last he broke down on the +threshold, with foam on his lips, and a look of horror at being left to +die of cold, in his broken eyes; his face was distorted by an +expression of anguish which was like a frozen cry. There he lay. + +The next morning before dawn Antek and his wife got up. His first +thought was to see what had happened to the old man. + +He went to look, but could not get the door of the pigsty to open, the +corpse was barring it from the inside like a beam. At last, after a +great effort, he was able to open it far enough to slip in, but he came +out again at once, terror-stricken. He could hardly get fast enough +across the yard and into the house; he was almost senseless with fear. +He could not understand what was happening to him; his whole frame +shook as in a fever, and he stood by the door panting and unable to +utter a word. + +Antkowa was at that moment teaching little Magda her prayer. She turned +her head towards her husband with questioning eyes. + +'Thy will be done...' she babbled thoughtlessly. + +'Thy will...' + +'... be done...' + +'... be done...' the kneeling child repeated like an echo. + +'Well, is he dead?' she jerked out, '...on earth...' + +'... on earth...' + +'To be sure, he's lying across the door,' he answered under his breath. + +'... as it is in Heaven...' + +'... is in Heaven...' 'But we can't leave him there; people might say +we took him there to get rid of him--we can't have that...' + +'What do you want me to do with him?' + +'How do I know? You must do something.' + +'Perhaps we can get him across here?' suggested Antek. + +'Look at that now...let him rot! Bring him in here? Not if...' + +'Idiot, he will have to be buried.' + +'Are we to pay for his funeral?...but deliver us from evil...what are +you blinking your silly eyes for?...go on praying.' + +'... deliver...us...from...evil...' + +'I shouldn't think of paying for that, that's Tomek's business by law +and right.' + +'... Amen...' + +'Amen.' + +She made the sign of the cross over the child, wiped its nose with her +fingers and went up to her husband. + +He whispered: 'We must get him across.' + +'Into the house...here?' + +'Where else?' + +'Into the cowshed; we can lead the calf out and lay him down on the +bench, let him lie in state there, if he likes...such a one as he has +been!' + +'Monika!' + +'Eh?' + +'We ought to get him out there.' + +'Well, fetch him out then.' + +'All right...but...' + +'You're afraid, what?' + +'Idiot...damned...' + +'What else?' + +'It's dark...' + +'If you wait till it's day, people will see you.' + +'Let's go together.' + +'You go if you are so keen.' + +'Are you coming, you carrion, or are you not?' he shouted at her; 'he's +your father, not mine.' And he flung out of the room in a rage. + +The woman followed him without a word. + +When they entered the pigsty, a breath of horror struck them, like the +exhalation from a corpse. The old man was lying there, cold as ice; one +half of his body had frozen on to the floor; they had to tear him off +forcibly before they could drag him across the threshold and into the +yard. + +Antkowa began to tremble violently at the sight of him; he looked +terrifying in the light of the grey dawn, on the white coverlet of +snow, with his anguished face, wide-open eyes, and drooping tongue on +which the teeth had closed firmly. There were blue patches on his skin, +and he was covered with filth from head to foot. + +'Take hold,' whispered the man, bending over him. 'How horribly cold he +is!' + +The icy wind which rises just before the sun, blew into their faces, +and shook the snow off the swinging twigs with a dry crackle. + +Here and there a star was still visible against the leaden background +of the sky. From the village came the creaking noise of the hauling of +water, and the cocks crew as if the weather were going to change. + +Antkowa shut her eyes and covered her hands with her apron, before she +took hold of the old man's feet; they could hardly lift him, he was so +heavy. They had barely put him down on a bench when she fled back into +the house, throwing out a linen-rag to her husband to cover the corpse. + +The children were busy scraping potatoes; she waited impatiently at the +door. + +'Have done...come in!... Lord, how long you are!' + +'We must get some one to come and wash him,' she said, laying the +breakfast, when he had come in. + +'I will fetch the deaf-mute.' + +'Don't go to work to-day.' + +'Go...no, not I...' + +They did not speak again, and ate their breakfast without appetite, +although as a rule they finished their four quarts of soup between +them. + +When they went out into the yard they walked quickly, and did not turn +their heads towards the other side. They were worried, but did not know +why; they felt no remorse; it was perhaps more a vague fear of the +corpse, or fear of death, that shook them and made them silent. + +When it was broad day, Antek fetched the village deaf-mute, who washed +and dressed the old man, laid him out, and put a consecrated candle at +his head. + +Antek then went to give notice to the priest and to the Soltys of his +father-in-law's death and his own inability to pay for the funeral. + +'Let Tomek bury him; he has got all the money.' + +The news of the old man's death spread rapidly throughout the village. +People soon began to assemble in little groups to look at the corpse. +They murmured a prayer, shook their heads, and went off to talk it +over. + +It was not till towards evening that Tomek, the other son-in-law, under +pressure of public opinion, declared himself willing to pay for the +funeral. + +On the third day, shortly before this was to take place, Tomek's wife +made her appearance at Antek's cottage. + +In the passage she almost came nose to nose with her sister, who was +just taking a pail of dishwater out to the cowshed. + +'Blessed be Jesus Christ,' she murmured, and kept her hand on the +door-handle. + +'Now: look at that... soul of a Judas!' Antkowa put the pail down hard. +'She's come to spy about here. Got rid of the old one somehow, didn't +you? Hasn't he given everything to you... and you dare show yourself +here, you trull! Have you come for the rest of the rags he left here, +what?' + +'I bought him a new sukmana at Whitsuntide, he can keep that on, of +course, but I must have the sheepskin back, because it has been bought +with money I have earned in the sweat of my brow,' Tomekowa replied +calmly. + +'Have it back, you mangy dog, have it back?' screamed Antkowa. 'I'll +give it you, you'll see what you will have...' and she looked round for +an object that would serve her purpose. 'Take it away? You dare! You +have crawled to him and lickspittled till he became the idiot he was +and made everything over to you and wronged me, and then...' + +'Everybody knows that we bought the land from him, there are +witnesses...' + +'Bought it? Look at her! You mean to say you're not afraid to lie like +that under God's living eyes? Bought it! Cheats, that's what you are, +thieves, dogs! You stole the money from him first, and then.... Didn't +you make him eat out of the pig-pail? Adam is a witness that he had to +pick the potatoes out of the pig-pail, ha! You've let him sleep in the +cowshed, because, you said, he stank so that you couldn't eat. Fifteen +acres of land and a dower-life like that... for so much property! And +you've beaten him too, you swine, you monkey!' + +'Hold your snout, or I'll shut it for you and make you remember, you +sow, you trull!' + +'Come on then, come on, you destitute creature!' 'I... destitute?' + +'Yes, you! You would have rotted in a ditch, the vermin would have +eaten you up, if Tomek hadn't married you.' + +'I, destitute? Oh you carrion!' They sprang at each other, clutching at +each other's hair; they fought in the narrow passage, screaming +themselves hoarse all the time. + +'You street-walker, you loafer... there! that's one for you! There's +one for my fifteen acres, and for all the wrong you have done me, you +dirty dog!' + +'For the love of God, you women, leave off, leave off! It's a sin and a +shame!' cried the neighbours. + +'Let me go, you leper, will you let go?' + +'I'll beat you to death, I will tear you to pieces, you filth!' + +They fell down, hitting each other indiscriminately, knocked over the +pail, and rolled about in the pigwash. At last, speechless with rage +and only breathing hard, they still banged away at each other. The men +were hardly able to separate them. Purple in the face, scratched all +over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was +boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a +second time. + +At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, +tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh +Mary! Look at this pestiferous woman...curse those heathen...oh! +oh!...' she was only able to roar, leaning against the wall. + +Tomekowa, meanwhile, was cursing and shouting outside the house, and +banging her heels against the door. + +The spectators stood in little groups, taking counsel with each other, +and stamping their feet in the snow. The women looked like red spots +dabbed on to the wall; they pressed their knees together, for the wind +was penetratingly cold. They murmured remarks to each other from time +to time, while they watched the road leading to the church, the spires +of which stood out clearly behind the branches of the bare trees. Every +minute some one or other wanted to have another look at the corpse; it +was a perpetual coming and going. The small yellow flames of the +candles could be seen through the half-open door, flaring in the +draught, and momentarily revealing a glimpse of the dead man's sharp +profile as he lay in the coffin. The smell of burning juniper floated +through the air, together with the murmurings of prayers and the grunts +of the deaf-mute. + +At last the priest arrived with the organist. The white pine coffin was +carried out and put into the cart. The women began to sing the usual +lamentations, while the procession started down the long village street +towards the cemetery. The priest intoned the first words of the +Service for the Dead, walking at the head of the procession with his +black biretta on his head; he had thrown a thick fur cloak over his +surplice; the wind made the ends of his stole flutter; the words of the +Latin hymn fell from his lips at intervals, dully, as though they had +been frozen; he looked bored and impatient, and let his eyes wander +into the distance. The wind tugged at the black banner, and the +pictures of heaven and hell on it wobbled and fluttered to and fro, as +though anxious to display themselves to the rows of cottages on either +side, where women with shawls over their heads and bare-headed men were +standing huddled together. + +They bowed reverently, made the sign of the cross, and beat their +breasts. + +The dogs were barking furiously from behind the hedges, some jumped on +to the stone walls and broke into long-drawn howls. + +Eager little children peeped out from behind the closed windows, beside +toothless used-up old people's faces, furrowed as fields in autumn. + +A small crowd of boys in linen trousers and blue jackets with brass +buttons, their bare feet stuck into wooden sandals, ran behind the +priest, staring at the pictures of heaven and hell, and intoning the +intervals of the chant with thin, shivering voices: a! o!... They kept +it up as long as the organist did not change the chant. + +Ignatz proudly walked in front, holding the banner with one hand and +singing the loudest of all. He was flushed with exertion and cold, but +he never relaxed, as though eager to show that he alone had a right to +sing, because it was his grandfather who was being carried to the +grave. They left the village behind. The wind threw itself upon Antek, +whose huge form towered above all the others, and ruffled his hair; but +he did not notice the wind, he was entirely taken up with the horses +and with steadying the coffin, which was tilting dangerously at every +hole in the road. + +The two sisters were walking close behind the coffin, murmuring prayers +and eyeing each other with furious glances. + +'Tsutsu! Go home!...Go home at once, you carrion!' One of the mourners +pretended to pick up a stone. The dog, who had been following the cart, +whined, put her tail between her legs, and fled behind a heap of stones +by the roadside; when the procession had moved on a good bit, she ran +after it in a semi-circle, and anxiously kept close to the horses, lest +she should be prevented again from following. + +The Latin chant had come to an end. The women, with shrill voices, +began to sing the old hymn: 'He who dwelleth under the protection of +the Lord.' + +It sounded thin. The blizzard, which was getting up, did not allow the +singing to come to much. Twilight was falling. + +The wind drove clouds of snow across from the endless, steppe-like +plains, dotted here and there with skeleton trees, and lashed the +little crowd of human beings as with a whip. + +'... and loves and keeps with faithful heart His word...,' they +insisted through the whistling of the tempest and the frequent shouts +of Antek, who was getting breathless with cold: 'Woa! woa, my lads!' + +Snowdrifts were beginning to form across the road like huge wedges, +starting from behind trees and heaps of stones. + +Again and again the singing was interrupted when the people looked +round anxiously into the white void: it seemed to be moving when the +wind struck it with dull thuds; now it towered in huge walls, now it +dissolved like breakers, turned over, and furiously darted sprays of a +thousand sharp needles into the faces of the mourners. Many of them +returned half-way, fearing an increase of the blizzard, the others +hurried on to the cemetery in the greatest haste, almost at a run. They +got through the ceremony as fast as they could; the grave was ready, +they quickly sang a little more, the priest sprinkled holy water on the +coffin; frozen clods of earth and snow rolled down, and the people fled +home. + +Tomek invited everybody to his house, because 'the reverend Father had +said to him, that other-wise the ceremony would doubtless end in an +ungodly way at the public-house.' + +Antek's answer to the invitation was a curse. The four of them, +including Ignatz and the peasant Smoletz, turned into the inn. + +They drank four quarts of spirits mixed with fat, ate three pounds of +sausages, and talked about the money transaction. + +The heat of the room and the spirits soon made Antek very drunk. He +stumbled so on the way home that his wife took him firmly under the +arm. + +Smoletz remained at the inn to drink an extra glass in prospect of the +loan, but Ignatz ran home ahead as fast as he could, for he was +horribly cold. + +'Look here, mother...,' said Antek, 'the five acres are mine! aha! +mine, do you hear? In the autumn I shall sow wheat and barley, and in +the spring we will plant potatoes... mine... they are mine!... God is +my comfort, sayest thou...,' he suddenly began to sing. + +The storm was raging, and howling. + +'Shut up! You'll fall down, and that will be the end of it.' + +'... His angel keepeth watch...,' he stopped abruptly. The darkness was +impenetrable, nothing could be seen at a distance of two feet. The +blizzard had reached the highest degree of fury; whistling and howling +on a gigantic scale filled the air, and mountains of snow hurled +themselves upon them. + +From Tomek's cottage came the sound of funeral chants and loud talking +when they passed by. + +'These heathen! These thieves! You wait, I'll show you my five acres! +Then I shall have ten. You won't lord it over me! Dogs'-breed... aha! +I'll work, I'll slave, but I shall get it, eh, mother? we will get it, +what?' he hammered his chest with his fist, and rolled his drunken +eyes. + +He went on like this for a while, but as soon as they reached their +home, the woman dragged him into bed, where he fell down like a dead +man. But he did not go to sleep yet, for after a time he shouted: +'Ignatz!' + +The boy approached, but with caution, for fear of contact with the +paternal foot. + +'Ignatz, you dead dog! Ignatz, you shall be a first-class peasant, not +a beggarly professional man,' he bawled, and brought his fist down on +the bedstead. + +'The five acres are mine, mine! Foxy Germans,[1] you... da...' He went +to sleep. + +[Footnote 1: 'The term 'German' is used for 'foreigner' generally, whom +the Polish peasant despises.] + + + + + +THE SENTENCE + +BY + +J. KADEN-BANDKOWSKI + + + +'Yakob... Yakob... Yakob!' + +The old man was repeating his name to himself, or rather he was +inwardly listening to the sound of it which he had been accustomed to +hear for so many years. He had heard it in the stable, in the fields, +and on the grazing-ground, on the steps of the manor-house and at the +Jew's, but never like this. It seemed to issue from unknown depths, +summoning sounds never heard before, sights never yet seen, producing a +confusion which he had never experienced. He saw it, felt it +everywhere; it was itself the cause of a hopeless despair. + +This despair crept silently into Yakob's fatalistic and submissive +soul. He felt it under his hand, as though he were holding another +hand. He was as conscious of it as of his hairy chest, his cold and +starved body. This despair, moreover, was blended with a kind of +patient expectancy which was expressed by the whispering of his pale, +trembling lips, the tepid sweat under his armpits, the saliva running +into his throat and making his tongue feel rigid like a piece of wood. + +This is what happened: he tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come swarming in from everywhere; they had taken the men away; +it was firearms everywhere...everywhere firearms, noise and hubbub. The +whole world was pushing, running, sweating or freezing. They arrived +from this side or from that; they asked questions, they hunted people +down, they followed up a trail, they fought. Of course, one must not +betray one's brothers, but then...who are one's brothers? + +They placed watches in the mountains, in the forests, on the fields; +they even drove people into the mountain-passes and told them to hold +out at any cost. + +Yakob had been sitting in the chimney-corner in the straw and dust, +covered with his frozen rags. The wind swept over the mountains and +penetrated into the cottage, bringing with it a white covering of hoar- +frost; it was sighing eerily in the fields; the fields themselves +seemed to flee from it, and to be alive, running away into the +distance. The earth in white convulsions besieged the sky, and the sky +got entangled in the mountain-forests. + +Yakob was looking at the snow which was falling thickly, and tried to +penetrate the veil with his eyes. Stronger and faster raged the +blizzard. Yakob's stare became vacant under the rumbling of the storm +and the driving of the snow; one could not have told whether he was +looking with eyes or with lumps of ice. + +Shadows were flitting across the snowdrifts. They were the outlines of +objects lit up by the fire; they trembled on the window-frames; the +fire flickered, and the shadows treacherously caressed the images of +saints on the walls. The beam played on the window, threw a red light +on the short posts of the railing, and disappeared in pursuit of the +wind in the fields. + +'Yakob...Yakob...Yakob!' + +And he had really had nothing to do with it! It had all gone against +him continuously, pertinaciously, and to no purpose. It had attached +itself to him, clung to the dry flour that flew about in atoms in the +tin where the bit of cheese also was kept. It had bewitched the +creaking of the windows on their hinges; it had stared from the empty +seats along the walls. + +But he kept on beating his breast. His forehead was wrinkled in dried- +up folds, his brows bristled fantastically into shaggy, dirty tufts. +His heavy, blunt nose, powdered with hairs at the tip, stood out +obstinately between two deep folds on either side. These folds overhung +the corners of his mouth, and were joined below the chin by a network +of pallid veins. A noise, light as a beetle's wing, came in puffs from +the half-open lips; they were swollen and purple like an overgrown +bean. + +Yakob had been sitting in Turkish fashion, his hands crossed over his +chest, breathing forth his misery so quietly that it covered him, +together with the hoar-frost, stopped his ears and made the tufts of +hair on his chest glitter. He was hugging his sorrow to himself, +abandoning the last remnant of hope, and longing for deliverance. +Behind the wrinkles of his forehead there swarmed a multitude not so +much of pictures as of ghosts of the past, yet vividly present. + +At last he got up and sat down on the bench in the chimney-corner, drew +a pipe from his trouser-pocket and put it between his teeth, forgetting +to light it. He laid his heavy hands round the stem. Beyond the +blizzard and the shadow-play of the flame, there appeared to him the +scene of his wife and daughters' flight. He had given up everything he +possessed, had taken off his sheepskin, had himself loosened the cow +from the post. For a short moment he had caught sight of his wife and +daughters again in the distance, tramping through the snow as they +passed the cross-roads, then they had been swallowed up in a mass of +people, horses, guns, carts, shouts and curses. Since then he had +constantly fancied that he was being called, yet he knew that there was +no one to call him. His thoughts were entirely absorbed in what he had +seen then. With his wife all his possessions had gone. Now there was +nothing but silence, surrounding him with a sharp breath of pain and +death. + +By day and by night Yakob had listened to the shots that struck his +cottage and his pear-trees. He chewed a bit of cheese from time to +time, and gulped down with it the bitter fear that his cottage might be +set on fire. + +For here and there, like large red poppies on the snow, the glare of +burning homesteads leapt up into the sky. + +'Here I am...watching,' he said to himself, when he looked at these +blood-red graves. He smiled at the sticks of firewood on his hearth, +which was the dearest thing on earth to him. The walls of his cottage +were one with his inmost being, and every moment when he saw them +standing, seemed to him like precious savings which he was putting +away. So he watched for several days; the vermin were overrunning the +place, and he was becoming desperate. Since mid-day the silence had +deepened; the day declined, and there was nothing in the world but +solitude and snow. + +Yakob went over to the window. The snow was lying deep on the fields, +like a shimmering coat of varnish; the world was bathed in the light of +a pale, wan moon. The forest-trees stood out here and there in blue +points, like teeth. Large and brilliant the stars looked down, and +above the milky way, veiled in vapours, hung the sickle of the moon. + +While in the immensity of the night cold and glittering worlds were +bowing down before the eternal, Yakob looked, and noticed something +approaching from the mountains. Along the heights and slopes there was +a long chain of lights; it was opening out from the centre into two +lines on either side, which looked as though they were lost in the +forest. Below them there were confused gleams in the fields, and +behind, in the distance, the glow of the burning homesteads. + +'They have burned the vicarage,' thought Yakob, and his heart answered: +'and here am I...watching.' + +He pressed against the window-frame, glued his grey face to the panes +and, trembling with cold, sent out an obstinate and hostile glance into +space, as though determined to obtain permission to keep his own +heritage. + +Suddenly he pricked up his ears. Something was approaching from the +distance across the forest very cautiously. The snow was creaking under +the advancing steps. In the great silence it sounded like the forging +of iron. Those were horses' hoofs stamping the snow. + +This sound, suppressed as it was, produced in him a peculiar sensation +which starts in the head and grips you in the nape of the neck, the +consciousness that someone is hiding close to you. + +Yakob stood quite still at the window, not even moving his pipe from +one corner of his mouth to the other. Not he himself seemed to be +trembling, only his rags. + +The door was suddenly thrown open and a soldier appeared on the +threshold. The light of a lantern which was suspended on his chest, +filled the room. + +Yakob's blood was freezing. Cossacks, hairy like bears, were standing +in the opening of the door, the snow which covered them was shining +like a white flame. In the courtyard there were steaming horses; +lanceheads were glittering like reliquaries. + +Yakob understood that they were calling him 'old man', and asking him +questions. He extended his hands to express that he knew nothing. Some +of the Cossacks entered, and made signs to him to make up the fire. + +He noticed that they were bringing more horses into the yard, small, +shaggy ponies like wolves. + +He became calmer, and his fear disappeared; he only remained cautious +and observant; everything that happened seemed to take hours, yet he +saw it with precision. + +'It is cold...it is cold!' + +He made up the fire for these bandits who stretched themselves on the +benches; he felt they were talking and laughing about him, and he +turned to them and nodded; he thought it would please them if he showed +that he approved of them. They asked him about God knows what, where +they were, and where they were not. As though he knew! + +Then they started all over again, while they swung their booted legs +under the seats. One of them came up to the hearth, and clapped the +crouching Yakob on his back for fun, but it hurt. It was a resounding +smack. Yakob scratched himself and rumpled his hair, unable to +understand. + +They boiled water and made tea; a smell of sausages spread about the +room. Yakob bit his jaws together and looked at the fire. He sat in his +place as though he had been glued to it. + +His ears were tingling when he heard the soldiers grinding their teeth +on their food, tearing the skin off the sausages and smacking their +lips. + +A large and painful void was gaping in his inside. + +They devoured their food fast and noisily, and an odour of brandy began +to fill the room, and contracted Yakob's throat. + +He understood that they were inviting him to share the meal, but he +felt uneasy about that, and though his stomach seemed to have shrunk, +and the sausage-skins and bones which they had thrown away lay quite +close to him, he could not make up his mind to move and pick them up. + +'Come on!' + +The soldier beckoned to him. 'Come here!' + +The old man felt that he was weakening, the savoury smell took +possession of him. + +But 'I shan't go,' he thought. The soldier, gnawing a bone, repeated, +'Come on!' + +'I shan't go,' thought Yakob, and spat into the fire, to assure himself +that he was not going. All the same...the terribly tempting smell made +him more and more feeble. + +At last two of them got up, took him under the arms, and sat him down +between them. + +They made signs to him, they held the sausage under his nose; the tea +was steaming, the brandy smelt delicious. + +Yakob put his hands on the table, then put them behind him. Black +shadows were gesticulating on the walls. He felt unhappy about sharing +a meal with people without knowing what they were, never having seen or +known them before. They were Russians, thus much he knew. He had a +vision of something that happened long ago, he could not distinctly +remember what it was, for it happened so very long ago; his grandfather +had come home from the fair that was held in the town, shivering and +groaning. There had been outcries and curses. + +'They are going to poison me like a dog,' he thought. + +The wind was changing and moaning under the roof. The fire flickered up +and went down; the red flame and the darkness were dancing together on +the walls. The wan moon was looking in at the window. Yakob was sitting +on the bench among the soldiers like his own ghost. + +'They are surely going to poison me,' he kept repeating to himself. He +was still racking his memory as to what it was that had happened so +long ago to his grandfather during the fair, at the inn. God knows what +it was...who could know anything? + +'They are going to poison me!' + +His sides were heaving with his breath, he was trying to breathe +carefully, so as not to smell the repast. + +The shadows on the walls seemed to jeer at him. The soldiers were +beginning to talk thickly; their mouths, their fingers were shining +with grease. They took off their belts and laid their swords aside. The +one next to Yakob put his arm round his neck and whispered in his ear; +his red mouth was quite close; he passed his hand over Yakob's head, +and brought his arm right round his throat. He was young and he was +talking of his father. + +'Daddy,' he said, and put the sausage between his teeth. + +Yakob tried to clench his teeth; but he bit the sausage at the same +time. + +'Daddy,' said the young soldier again, holding out the sausage for +another bite; he stroked his head, looked into his eyes, and laughed. +Yakob was sorry for himself. Was he to be fed like a half-blind old +man? Couldn't he eat by himself? + +When the soldiers saw that Yakob was eating, they burst into shouts of +laughter, and stamped their feet, rattling their spurs. + +He knew they were laughing at him, and it made him easier in his mind +to see that he was affording them pleasure. He purposely made himself +ridiculous with the vague idea that he must do something for them in +payment of what they were giving him; they struck him on the +shoulder-blades to see him gasp with his beanlike mouth, and to see the +frightened smile run over his face like a flash of lightning. + +He ate as though from bravado, but he ate well. They started drinking +again. Yakob looked at them with eagerness, his arms folded over his +stomach, his head bent forward; the hairy hand of the captain put the +bottle to his mouth. + +Now he could laugh his own natural laugh again, and not only from +bravado, for he felt quite happy. His frozen body was getting warmed +through. + +He felt as if a great danger had irrevocably passed. + +Gradually he became garrulous, although they hardly understood what he +was talking about: 'Yes, the sausage was good... to be sure!' He nodded +his head and clicked his tongue; he also approved of the huge chunks of +bread, and whenever the bottle was passed round, he put his head on one +side and folded his hands, as if he were listening to a sermon. From +his neighbour's encircling black sleeve the old face peeped out with +equanimity, looking like a withering poppy. + +'Daddy,' the loquacious Cossack would say from time to time, and point +in the direction of the mountains; tears were standing in his eyes. + +Yakob put his swollen hand on his, and waited for him to say more. + +The soldier held his hand, pointed in the direction of the mountains +again, and sniffled. + +'He respects old age... they are human, there's no denying it,' thought +Yakob, and got up to put more wood on the fire. + +They seized hold of him, they would not allow him to do it. A young +soldier jumped up: 'Sit down, you are old.' + +Yakob held out his empty pipe, and the captain himself filled it. + +So there he sat, among these armed bandits. They were dressed in +sheepskins and warm materials, had sheepskin caps on their heads; there +was he with his bare arms, in well-worn grey trousers, his shirt +fastened together at the neck with a piece of wood. Sitting among them, +defenceless as a centipede, without anyone belonging to him, puffing +clouds of smoke, he inwardly blessed this adventure, in which +everything had turned out so well. The Cossacks looked at the fire, and +they too said: 'This is very nice, very nice.' + +To whom would not a blazing fire on a cold winter's night appeal? + +They got more and more talkative and asked: 'Where are your wife and +children?' They probably too had wives and children! + +'My wife,' he said, 'has gone down to the village, she was afraid.' +They laughed and tapped their chests: 'War is a bad thing, who would +not be afraid?' Yakob assented all the more readily as he felt that for +him the worst was over. + +'Do you know the way to the village?' suddenly asked the captain. He +was almost hidden in clouds of tobacco-smoke, but in his eyes there was +a gleam, hard and sinister, like a bullet in a puff of smoke. + +Yakob did not answer. How should he not know the way? + +They started getting up, buckled on their belts and swords. + +Yakob jumped up to give them the rest of the sausages and food which +had been left on the plates. But they would only take the brandy, and +left the tobacco and the broken meat. + +'That will be for you...afterwards,' said the young Cossack, took a red +muffler off his neck and put it round Yakob's shoulder. + +'That will keep you warm.' + +Yakob laughed back at him, and submitted to having the muffler knotted +tightly round his throat. The young soldier drew a pair of trousers +from his kitbag: 'Those will keep you warm, you are old.' He told him a +long story about the trousers; they had belonged to his brother who had +been killed. + +'You know, it's lucky to wear things like that. Poor old fellow!' + +Yakob stood and looked at the breeches. In the fire-light they seemed +to be trembling like feeble and stricken legs. He laid his hand on them +and smiled, a little defiant and a little touched. + +'You may have them, you may have them,' grunted the captain, and +insisted on his putting them on at once. + +When he had put them on in the chimney-corner and showed himself, they +were all doubled up with laughter. He looked appalling in the black +trousers which were much too large for him, a grey hood and the red +muffler. His head wobbled above the red line as if it had been fixed on +a bleeding neck. The rags on his chest showed the thin, hairy body, the +stiff folds of the breeches produced an effect as if he were not +walking on the ground but floating above it. + +The captain gave the command, the soldiers jumped up and looked once +more round the cottage; the young Cossack put the sausage and meat in a +heap and covered it with a piece of bread. 'For you,' he said once +more, and they turned to leave. + +Yakob went out with them to bid them Godspeed. A vague presentiment +seized him on the threshold, when he looked out at the frozen world, +the stars, like nails fixed into the sky, and the light of the moon on +everything. He was afraid. + +The men went up to their horses, and he saw that there were others +outside. The wind ruffled the shaggy little ponies' manes and threw +snow upon them. The horses, restless, began to bite each other, and the +Cossacks, scattered on the snow like juniper-bushes, reined them in. + +The cottage-door remained open. The lucky horseshoe, nailed to the +threshold, glittered in the light of the hearth, which threw blood-red +streaks between the legs of the table, across the door and beyond it on +to the snow. + +'I wonder whether they will ever return to their families?' he thought, +and: 'How queer it is that one should meet people like that.' + +He was sorry for them. + +The captain touched his arm and asked the way. + +'Straight on.' + +'Far?' + +'No, not far, not at all far.' + +'Where is it?' + +The little group stood in front of him by the side of their wolf-like +ponies. He drew back into the cottage. + +The thought confusedly crossed his mind: 'After all, we did sit +together and ate together, two and two, like friends.' + +He began hurriedly, 'Turn to the left at the crossroads, then across +the fields as far as Gregor's cottage...' + +The captain made a sign that he did not understand. + +He thought: 'Perhaps they will lose their way and make a fuss; then +they will come back to the cottage and eat the meat. I will go with +them as far as the cross-roads.' + +They crept down the road, passed the clump of pine-trees which came out +in a point beside the brook, and went along the valley on the slippery +stones. A large block of ice lay across the brook, shaped like a silver +plough; the waves surrounded it as with golden crescents. The snow +creaked under the soldiers' feet. Yakob walked beside them on his +sandals, like a silent ghost. + +'Now keep straight on as far as the cross,' he said, pointing to a dark +object with a long shadow. 'I can't see anything,' said the captain. He +accompanied them as far as the cross, by the side of which stood a +little shrine; the wan saint was wearing a crown of icicles. + +From that point the village could be seen across the fields. Yakob +discovered that the chain of lights which he had observed earlier in +the evening, had come down from the mountains, for it now seemed to be +close to the village. + +Silence reigned in the sleeping world, every step could be heard. + +This silence filled Yakob's heart with a wild fear; he turned round +with a feeling of helplessness and looked back at his cottage. Probably +the fire was now going out; a red glow appeared and disappeared on the +windows. + +Beyond the cross the road lay through low-lying ground, and was crossed +by another road which led abruptly downwards into fields. Yakob +hesitated. + +'Come on, old man, come on,' they called to him, and walked on without +waiting for his answer. The Cossacks dug their heels into the rugged +ice of the road, and tumbled about in all directions. They had left +their horses at the cross-roads. Each one kept a close hold on his gun, +so that there should be no noise. They were whispering to each other; +it sounded as if a congregation were murmuring their prayers. Yakob led +them, and mentally he held fast to every bush, every lump of ice, +saying to himself at every step that now he was going to leave them, +they could not miss the road now. But he was afraid. + +They no longer whispered, they had become taciturn as they pushed +onwards, stumbling, breathing hard. + +'As far as Gregor's cottage, and then no more!' + +The effect of the drink was passing off. He rubbed his eyes, drew his +rags across his chest. 'What was he doing, leading these people about +on this night?' + +He suddenly stopped where the field-road crossed theirs; the soldiers +in front and behind threw themselves down. It was as if the ground had +swallowed them. + +A black horse was standing in the middle of the road, with extended +nostrils. Its black mane, covered with hoar-frost, was tossed about its +head; the saddle-bags, which were fur-lined, swung in the breeze; large +dark drops were falling from its leg to the ground. + +'Damn it!' cursed the captain. + +The horse looked meekly at them, and stretched its head forward +submissively. Yakob was sorry for the creature; perhaps one could do +something for it. He stood still beside it, and again pointed out the +road. + +'I have done enough, I shan't go any further!' He scratched his head +and smiled, thinking that this was a good opportunity for escape. + +'Come on,' hissed the captain so venomously in his ear that he marched +forward without delay; they followed. + +A dull fear mixed with resentment gripped him with terrible force. He +now ran at the head like a sheep worried by watch-dogs. + +They stopped in front of the cottage, silent, breathless, expectant. + +Yakob looked at his companions with boundless astonishment. Their faces +under their fur-caps had a tense, cruel look, their brows were +wrinkled, their eyes glittered. + +From all sides other Cossacks were advancing. + +He noticed only now that there were some lying concealed behind the +fence on the straw in a confused mass. + +He shuddered; thick drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. The +beating of his heart filled his head like the noise of a hammer, it +seemed to fill everything. In spite of the feeling that he was being +forced to do this thing, he again heard the voice calling: 'Yakob, +Yakob!' + +Up the hillock where Gregor's cottage stood, they advanced on all +fours. + +He clambered upwards, thinking of his wife, and of the cow he had +loosed. Fear veiled his eyes, he saw black spots dancing. + +Gregor's cottage was empty as a graveyard. It had been abandoned; the +open doors creaked on their hinges. Under the window stood a cradle, +covered with snow. + +Silently the soldiers surrounded the cottage, and Yakob went with them, +as though mesmerized by terror, mute and miserable. + +They had hardly got round, when a red glow shot up from the other side +of the village. The soldiers threw themselves down in the snow. + +The thundering of guns began on all sides; blood-red lights came flying +overhead. An appalling noise broke out, reinforced by the echo from the +mountains, as though the whole world were going to perish. The Cossacks +advanced, trembling. + +Yakob advanced with them, for the captain had hit him across the head. +He saw stars when he received the blow, gesticulated wildly, and +staggered along the road. + +He could distinguish the road running out from the forest like a silver +thread. As they advanced, they came under a diabolically heavy rifle +fire; bullets were raining upon them from all sides. + +Here and there he heard moans already, when one of the soldiers fell +bleeding on the snow. Close to him fell the young Cossack who had given +him the muffler and breeches. He held out his hand, groaning. Yakob +wanted to stop, but the captain would not let him, but rapped him over +the head again with his knuckles. + +The soldiers lay in heaps. The rest wavered, fell back, hid in the +ditch or threw themselves down. The rifle-fire came nearer, the +outlines and faces of the advancing enemy could already be +distinguished. Another blow on the head stretched Yakob to the ground, +and he feigned death. The Cossacks retreated, the others advanced, and +he understood that they belonged to his friends. + +When he got up, he was immediately surrounded by them, taken by the +scruff of the neck and so violently shaken, that he tumbled on his +knees. Gunfire was roaring from the mountains, shadows of soldiers +flitted past him, the wounded Cossacks groaned in the snow. Young, +well-nourished looking men were bending over him. + +Looking up into their faces, he crossed his hands over his chest and +laughed joyfully. + +'Ah, those Russians, those Russians...the villains!' he croaked, 'aho, +aho, ho hurlai!' He rolled his tear-filled eyes. + +Things were happening thick and fast. From where the chimney stood +close to the water, near the manor-house, the village was burning. He +could feel the heat and soot and hear the shouting of the crowd through +the noise of the gunfire. Now he would see his wife and children again, +the friendly soldiers surely had saved them. The young Cossack was +still struggling on the ground; now he stretched himself out for his +eternal sleep. 'Ah, the villains!' Yakob repeated; the great happiness +which filled his heart rushed to his lips in incoherent babblings. 'The +villains, they have served me nicely!' + +He felt his bleeding head, crouched on his heels and got up. The fleshy +red faces were still passing close to him, breathing harder and harder. +Fear rose and fell in him like the flames of the burning village; again +everything was swallowed up in indescribable noise. + +Suddenly Yakob began to sob; he threw himself down at the soldiers' +feet and wept bitterly, as though he would weep out his soul and the +marrow of his bones. + +They lifted him up, almost unconscious, and took him along the high +road, under escort with fixed bayonets. His tears fell fast upon the +snow, and thus he came into his own village, among his own people, pale +as a corpse, with poison in his heart. + +He looked dully at the blazing wooden church-spire where it stood +enveloped in flames as though wrapped in an inflated glittering cloak. +Dully he let his eyes wander over the hedges and fences; everything +seemed unreal, as things seen across a distant wave or a downpour of +rain, out of reach and strange. + +He was standing where the field-path joined the high road. The soldiers +sat down on a heap of stones and lighted their cigarettes. + +Yakob, trembling all over, looked at his own black shadow; fugitives +arrived from the burning village and swarmed past him; the rifle fire +now sounded from the direction of the mountains. + +Suddenly Gregor's cottage burst into flames. A blood-red glow inflated +the clouds of smoke, trembled on the snow and ran over the pine-trees +like gold. + +Soldiers were arriving from that direction, streaming with blood, +supported by their comrades. + +Yakob stood motionless, looking at his shadow; fear was burning within +him. He looked at the sky above the awful chaos on the earth, and +became calmer. He tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come, had given him food. His wife and children were probably +safe in the manor-house. Blinking his swollen eyelids, he tried to +deceive himself, crouched down near the guard who was smoking, and +asked him for fire. His fear miraculously disappeared. + +He began to talk rapidly to the soldier: 'I was sitting...the wind was +moaning...' he told him circumstantially how he was sitting, what he +had been thinking, how the shots had struck his cottage. + +The soldier put his rifle between his knees, crossed his hands over his +sleeves, spat out and sighed. + +'But you have had underhand dealings with the Russians.' + +'No...no.' + +'Tell that to another.' + +'I shall,' replied Yakob calmly. + +'And who showed them the way?' + +'Who?' said Yakob. + +'Who showed them the way over here? Or did they find it on the map?' + +'Yes, on the map,' assented Yakob, as though he were quite convinced. + +'Well, who did?' said the soldier, wagging his head. + +'Who?' repeated Yakob like an echo. + +'I suppose it wasn't I?' said the soldier. + +'I?' asked Yakob. + +The other three soldiers approached inquisitively to where Yakob was +crouching. + +'A nice mess you've made,' one of them said, pointing to the wounded +who were arriving across the fields. 'Do you understand?' + +Yakob fixed his eyes on the soldiers' boots, and would not look in +that, direction. But he could not understand what it all meant...all +this noise, and the firing that ran from hill to hill. + +'Nice mess this you've made, old man.' + +'Yes.' + +'You!' + +Yakob looked up at them, and had the sensation of being deep down at +the bottom of a well instead of crouching at their feet. + +'That is a lie, a lie, a lie!' he cried, beating his chest; his hair +stood on end. The soldiers sat down in a row on the stones. They were +young, cold, tired. + +'But now they'll play the deuce with you.' + +'Why?' said Yakob softly, glancing sideways at them. + +'You're an old ass,' remarked one of them. + +'But,' he began again, 'I was sitting, looking at the snow....' + +He had a great longing to talk to them, they looked as if they would +understand, although they were so young. + +'I was sitting...give me some fire...do you come from these parts +yourselves?' They did not answer. + +He thought of his cottage, the bread and sausage, the black horse at +the cross-roads. + +'They beat me,' he sobbed, covering his face with his rags. + +The soldiers shrugged their shoulders: 'Why did you let them?' + +'O...O...O!' cried the old man. But tears would no longer wash away a +conviction which was taking possession of him, searing his soul as the +flames seared the pines. 'Why did you let them? Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?' + +No, he was not ashamed of himself for that. But that he had shown them +the way...the way they had come by...what did it all mean? All his +tears would not wash away this conviction: that he had shown them the +way...the way they had come by. + +Guns were thundering from the hills, the village was burning, the mill +was burning...a black mass of people was surrounding him. More and more +wounded came in from the fields, covered with grey mud. The flying +sparks from the mill fell at his feet. + +A detachment of soldiers was returning. + +'Get up, old man,' cried his guard; 'we're off!' Yakob jumped to his +feet, hitched up his trousers, and went off perplexed, under cover of +four bayonets that seemed to carry a piece of sky between them like a +starred canopy. + +His fear grew as he approached the village. He did not see the familiar +cottages and hedges; he felt as though he were moving onwards without a +goal. Moving onwards and yet not getting any farther. Moving onwards +and yet hoping not to get to the end of the journey. + +He sucked his pipe and paid no attention to anything; but the village +was on his conscience. + +The fear which filled his heart was nob like that which he had felt +when the Cossacks arrived, but a senseless fear, depriving him of sight +and hearing...as though there were no place for him in the world. + +'Are we going too fast?' asked the guard hearing Yakob's heavy +breathing. + +'All right, all right,' he answered cheerfully. The friendly words had +taken his fear away. + +'Take it easy,' said the soldier. 'We will go more slowly. Here's a dry +cigarette, smoke.' + +Without turning round, he offered Yakob a cigarette, which he put +behind his ear. + +They entered the village. It smelt of burning, like a gipsy camp. The +road seemed to waver in the flickering of the flames, the wind howled +in the timber. + +Yakob looked at the sky. Darkness and stars melted into one. + +He would not look at the village. He knew there were only women and +children in the cottages, the men had all gone. This thought was a +relief to him, he hardly knew why. + +Meanwhile the detachment of soldiers, instead of going to the +manor-house, had turned down a narrow road which led to the mill. They +stopped and formed fours. Every stone here was familiar to Yakob, and +yet, standing in the snow up to his knees, he was puzzled as to where +he was. If he could only sleep off this nightmare...he did not +recognize the road...the night was far advanced, and the village not +asleep as usual...if they would only let him go home! + +He would return to-morrow. + +The mill was burning out. Cinders were flying across from the +granaries; the smoke bit into the eyes of the people who were standing +about looking upwards, with their arms crossed. + +Everything showed up brilliantly in the glare; the water was dripping +from rung to rung of the silent wheel, and mixed its sound with that of +the fire. + +The adjoining buildings were fenced round with a small running fire; +smoke whirled round the tumbling roof like a shock of hair shot through +with flames. The faces of the bystanders assumed a metallic glow. + +The wails of the miller and his family could be heard through the noise +of battle, of water, and of fire. + +It was as if the crumbling walls, the melting joints, the smoke, the +cries were dripping down the wheel, transformed into blood, and were +carried down by the black waves and swallowed up in the infinite abyss +of the night. + +'They beat me....' Yakob justified himself to himself, when the tears +rose to his eyes again. No tears could wash away the conviction that it +was he who had shown them the way by which they had come. + +The first detachment was waiting for the arrival of the second. It +arrived, bringing in prisoners, Cossacks. A large number of them were +being marched along; they did not walk in order but irregularly, like +tired peasants. They were laughing, smoking cigarettes, and pushing +against each other. Among them were those who had come to his cottage; +he recognized the captain and others. + +When they saw Yakob they waved their hands cordially and called out to +him, 'Old man, old man!' + +Yakob did not reply; he shrunk into himself. Shame filled his soul. He +looked at them vacantly. His forehead was wrinkled as with a great +effort to remember something, but he could think of nothing but a huge +millwheel turning under red, smooth waves. Suddenly he remembered: it +was the young Cossack who had given him his brother's clothes. + +'The other one,' he shouted, pointing to his muffler, 'where did you +leave him?' + +Soldiers came between them and pushed the crowd away. + +There was a terrific crash in the mill; a thick red cloud rushed +upwards, dotted with sparks. Under this cloud an ever-increasing mass +of people was flocking towards the spot where Yakob was; they were +murmuring, pulling the soldiers by their cloaks. Women, children, and +old men pressed in a circle round him, gesticulating, shouting: 'It was +he...he...he!' + +Words were lost in the chaos of sounds, faces became merely a dense +mass, above which fists were flung upwards like stones. + +Yakob tripped about among the soldiers like a fawn in a cage, raised +and lowered his head, and clutched his rags; he could not shut his +quivering mouth, and from his breast came a cry like the sob of a +child. + +The crowd turned upon him with fists and nails; he hid his face in his +rags, stopped his ears with his fingers, and shook his head. + +The prisoners had been dispatched, and it was Yakob's turn to be taken +before the officer in command of the battalion. + +'Say that I...that I...' Yakob entreated his guard. + +'What are you in such a hurry for?' + +'Say that I...' + +The soldiers were sitting round a camp-fire, piling up the faggots. +Soup was boiling in a cauldron. + +'Say that I...' he begged again, standing in the thick smoke. + +At last he was taken into the school-house. + +The officer in command stood in the middle of the room with a cigarette +between his fingers. + +'I...I...' groaned Yakob, already in the door. His dishevelled hair +made him look like a sea-urchin; his face was quite disfigured with +black marks of violence; behind his bleeding left ear still stuck the +cigarette. His swollen upper lip was drawn sideways and gave him the +expression of a ghastly smile. His eyes looked out helpless, +dispirited, from his swollen lids. + +'What do you want to say?' asked the officer, without looking at him. +Something suddenly came over him. + +'It was I,' he said hoarsely. + +The soldier made his report. + +'They gave me food,' Yakob said, 'and this muffler and breeches, and +they beat me.' + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +'It was.' + +'You did show them the way?' + +He nodded. + +'Did they beat you in the cottage?' + +Yakob hesitated. 'In the cottage we were having supper.' + +'They beat you afterwards, on the way?' + +He again hesitated, and looked into the officer's eyes. They were +clear, calm eyes. The guard came a step nearer. + +The officer looked down, turned towards the window and asked more +gently: 'You had supper together in the cottage. Then you went out with +them. Did they beat you on the way?' + +He turned suddenly and looked at Yakob. The peasant stood, looked at +the grey snowflakes outside the window, and his face, partly black, +partly pallid, was wrinkled in deep folds. + +'Well, what have you got to say?' + +'It was I...' This interrogation made him alternately hot and cold. + +'You who beat them, and not they who beat you?' laughed the officer. + +'The meat is still there in the cottage, and here is what they gave +me,' he said, holding up the muffler and tobacco. + +The officer threw his cigarette away and turned on his heel. Yakob's +eyes became dull, his arm with the muffler dropped. + +The officer wrote an order. 'Take him away.' They passed the +schoolmaster and some women and soldiers in the passage. + +'Well...well...' they whispered, leaning against the wall. + +The guard made a sign with his hand. Yakob, behind him, looked dully +into the startled faces of the bystanders. + +'How frightened he looks...how they have beaten him...how frightened he +looks!' they murmured. + +He put the muffler round his neck again, for he felt cold. + +'That's him, that's him,' growled the crowd outside. + +The manor-house was reached. The light from the numerous windows fell +upon horses and gun-carriages drawn up in the yard. + +'What do you want?' cried the sentry to the crowd, pushing them back. + +He nodded towards Yakob. 'Where is he to go?' + +'That sort...' murmured the crowd. Yakob's guard delivered his order. +They stopped in the porch. The pillars threw long shadows which lost +themselves towards the fence and across the waves of the stream beyond, +in the darkness of the night. + +The heat in the waiting-room was overpowering. This was the room where +the bailiff had so often given him his pay. The office no longer +existed. Soldiers were lying asleep everywhere. + +They passed on into a brilliantly lighted room. The staff was quartered +there. The general took a few steps across the room, murmured something +and stood still in front of Yakob. + +'Ah, that is the man?' he turned and looked at Yakob with his blue eyes +that shot glances quick as lightning from under bushy grey eyebrows. + +'It was I,' ejaculated Yakob hoarsely. + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +Yakob became calmer. He felt he would be able to make himself more +quickly understood here. 'It was.' + +'You brought them here?' + +'Yes.' + +He passed his hand over his hair and shrank into himself again. He +looked at the brilliant lights. + +'Do you know what is the punishment for that?' + +The general came a step nearer; Yakob felt overawed by the feeling of +strength and power that emanated from him. He was choking. Yes, he +understood and yet did not understand.' + +'What have you got to say for yourself!' + +'We had supper together...' he began, but stopped, for the general +frowned and eyed him coldly. Yakob looked towards the window and +listened to hear the sound of wind and waves. The general was still +looking at him, and so they stood for a moment which seemed an eternity +to Yakob, the man in the field-grey uniform who looked as if he had +been sculptured in stone, and the quailing, shrunken, shivering form, +covered with dirt and rags. Yakob felt as though a heavy weight were +resting on him. Then both silently looked down. + +'Take him back to the battalion.' + +The steely sound of the command moved something in the souls of the +soldiers, and took the enjoyment of their sleep from them. + +They returned to the school-house. The crowd, as though following a +thief caught in the act, ran by their side again. + +They found room for the old man in a shed, some one threw him a +blanket. Soldiers were sleeping in serried ranks. Their heavy breathing +mixed with the sound of wind and waves, and the cold blue light of the +moon embraced everything. + +Yakob buried himself in the straw, looked out through a hole in the +boarding and wept bitterly. + +'What are you crying for?' asked the sentry outside, and tapped his +shoulder with his gun. + +Yakob did not answer. + +'Thinking of your wife?' the soldier gossiped, walking up and down +outside the shed. 'You're old, what good is your wife to you?' The +soldier stopped and stretched his arms till the joints cracked. + +'Or your children? Never mind, they'll get on in the world without a +helpless old man like you.' + +Yakob was silent, and the soldier crouched down near him. + +'Old man, you ought...' + +'No...' tremblingly came from the inside. + +'You see,' the soldier paced up and down again, 'you are thinking of +your cottage. I can understand that. But do you think the cottage will +be any the worse off for your death?' + +The soldier's simple and dour words outside in the blue night, his talk +of Yakob's death, of his own death which might come at any moment, +slowly brought sleep to Yakob. + +In the morning he awoke with a start. The sun was shining on the snow, +the mountains glittered like glass. The trees on the slopes were +covered with millions of shining crystals; freshness floated between +heaven and earth. Yakob stepped out of the shed, greeted the sentry and +sat down on the boards, blinking his eyes. + +The air was fresh and cold, tiny atoms of hoarfrost were flying about. +Yakob felt the sun's warmth thawing his limbs, caressing him. He let +himself be absorbed into the pure, rosy morning. + +Doors creaked, and voices rang out clear and fresh. Opposite to him a +squadron of Uhlans were waiting at the farrier's, who came out, black +as a charcoal-burner, and chatted with them. They were laughing, their +eyes shone. From inside the forge the hammer rang out like a bell. +Yakob held his head in his hand and listened. At each stroke he shut +his eyes. The soldiers brought him a cup of hot coffee; he drank it and +lighted his pipe. + +The murmuring of the brook, punctuated by the hammer-strokes, +stimulated his thoughts till they became clearer, limpid as the stream. + +'It was I...it was I...' he silently confided to all the fresh voices +of the morning. + +The guard again took him away with fixed bayonets. He knew where he was +going. They would go through the village and stop at the wall of the +cemetery. + +The sky was becoming overcast, the beauty of the morning was waning. +They called at the school-house for orders. Yakob remained outside the +open window. + +'I won't...' he heard a voice. + +'Nor I...' another. + +Yakob leant against the fence, supported his temples on his fists and +watched the snow-clouds and mists. + +A feeling of immense, heavy weariness came over him, and made him limp. +He could see the ruins of the mill, the tumbled-down granaries, the +broken doors. The water trickled down the wheel; smoke and soot were +floating on the water, yet the water flowed on. + +Guilty...not guilty.... What did it all matter? + +'Do you hear?' he asked of the water. 'Do you hear?' he asked of his +wife and children and his little property. + +They took him here and they took him there. They made him wait outside +houses, and he sat down on the steps as if he had never been used to +anything else. He picked up a dry branch and gently tapped the snow +with it and waited. He waited as in a dream, going round and round the +wish that it might all be over soon. + +While he was waiting, the crowd amused themselves with shaking their +fists at him; he was thankful that his wife seemed to have gone away to +the town and did not see him. + +At last his guard went off in a bad temper. A soldier on horseback +remained with him. + +'Come on, old man,' he said, 'no one will have anything to do with it.' + +Yakob glanced at him; the soldier and his horse seemed to be towering +above the cottages, above the trees of the park with their flocks of +circling crows. He looked into the far distance. + +'It was I.' + +'You're going begging, old man.' + +Again they began their round, and behind them followed the miller's +wife and other women. His legs were giving way, as though they were +rushes. He took off his cap and gave a tired look in the direction of +his cottage. + +At last they joined a detachment which was starting off on the old +road. They went as far as Gregor's cottage, then to the cross-roads, +and in single file down the path. From time to time isolated gunshots +rang out. + +They sat down by the side of a ditch. + +'We've got to finish this business,' said the sergeant, and scratched +his head. 'No one would come forward voluntarily... I have been +ordered....' + +The soldiers looked embarrassed and drew away, looking at Yakob. + +He hid his head between his knees, and his thoughts dwelt on +everything, sky, water, mountains, fire. + +His heart was breaking; a terrible sweat stood on his brows. + +Shots rang out. + +A deep groan escaped from Yakob's breast, a groan like a winter-wind. +He sprang up, stood on the edge of the ditch, sighed with all the +strength of his old breast and fell like a branch. + +Puffs of smoke rose from the ditch and from the forests. + + + + + + + +'P.P.C.' + +(A LADY'S NARRATIVE) + + +[An incident during the early part of the World War, when the Russians, +retreating before the victorious Austro-German armies, destroyed +everything.] + +BY + +MME RYGIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +I + + +At the time when the bridges over the Vistula still existed, connecting +by stone and iron the banks of the town now split in two, I drove to +the opposite side of the river into the country to my abandoned home, +for I thought I might still succeed in transporting to the town the +rest of the articles I had left behind, and so preserve them from a +doubtful fate. + +I was specially anxious to bring back the cases full of books that had +been early packed and duly placed in a garret. They included one part +of the library that had long ago been removed, but owing to their +considerable weight they had been passed over in the hurry of the first +removal. + +The house had been locked up and entrusted to the sure care of Martin, +an old fellow bent half to the ground, who with his wife also kept an +eye on the rest of the buildings, the garden, and the forest. + +When I arrived I found the whole of my wild, forgotten forest-world +absolutely changed and transformed into one great camp. But the empty +wood was moving like a living thing, like the menacing 'Birnam wood' +before the eyes of Macbeth. It was full of an army, with each of their +handsome big horses tied to a pine in the forest. Farther off across +the roots could be seen small grey tents stretched on logs. Most of the +exhausted blackened men were lying all over the ground and sleeping +among the quiet beasts. Along the peaceful, silky forest paths, in a +continuous line, like automobiles in the Monte Pincio park, stood small +field kitchens on wheels, gunpowder boxes, and carts. + +At the foot of the forest, on the flowery meadow, unmown this year, +were feeding pretty Ukraine cattle driven from some distant place. +Quiet little sheep, not brought up in our country, were eating grass on +a neighbouring hillock. + +Martin's bent figure was hastily coming along the road from the house, +making unintelligible signs. When he was quite close he explained in a +low discontented voice, and as if washing his hands of all +responsibility, that I had been robbed. 'I was going round,' he said, +'this very morning, as it was my duty to do. There was no one to be +seen. Now the whole forest is full of soldiers. They came, opened the +house, and stole absolutely everything. My wife came upon them as they +were going out!' + +'What? Stole everything?' I asked. + +Martin was silent a moment; at last he said: 'Well, for instance, the +samovar; absolutely everything!' + +I found the front door, in fact, wide open, and in it Martin's wife, +with gloom depicted on her face. The floors were covered with articles +dragged out of the drawers in the rooms on the upper floor. In the +garrets scores of books in the most appalling disorder were scattered +from out of parcels and boxes. Unbound volumes had been shaken, so that +single sheets and maps were found in various places or not found at +all. + +I went into the veranda. In the green of the astonished garden, now +paling in the dusk, men were sleeping here and there. There was a +specially large swarm in the part of the garden where ripe raspberries +were growing. Nearer the house, under a shady d'Amarlis pear tree, four +soldiers were lying and playing at cards. They all had attached to +their caps masks to protect them from poison-gas with two thick glasses +for the eyes, and with this second great pair of eyes on them their +heads looked like those of certain worms. In the packs of cards I +recognized without trouble some that used to lie by our fire-place. I +went up to the soldiers and pointed out that they had plundered my +house, and that I missed several things, and was anxious to find them, +especially women's dresses not of use to any one there, and that I +wanted to be assured that no one would come into the house in +future--at least till I had packed afresh the damaged books and +collected what remained. + +I could speak freely, for none of them so much as thought of +interrupting me. Then I was silent, whereupon the soldier lying nearest +raised his head--the movement put me in mind of a hydrostatic +balance--gave me a long look and said: 'What have we to do with your +books? We don't even understand your language!' Then, looking at me +amiably with his double pair of eyes, he took a bite of a half-ripe +pear as green as a cucumber. + +'Nothing to be got here: you must go to an officer,' Martin advised, as +he stood a little to the side of me. + +The officers had their quarters about a quarter of a mile away, in a +small house near the forest path. The mist passed off, and in the +darkness in the middle of the wood a number of fires shone. One could +hear a confused noise, unknown soldiers' songs, and mournful music. We +soon reached our destination. We were asked to go into the nearly empty +room, where there was a murmur of voices of soldiers; they were all +standing. At a long table, by the light of a small candle without a +candlestick, two men were writing something, and one was dipping in a +plate proofs of photographs. Some one asked if I felt any fear, and +when I hastened to reassure him entirely, he gave me a chair. Martin +stood, doubled up, at the door. + +A moment later a young officer, informed by a soldier of my arrival, +came down from above, clapped his spurs together in a salute and +inquired what I wanted. When he heard my business his brow darkened and +he became severe. 'Till now we have had no instance of such an +occurrence,' he informed me with much dignity, and his voice sounded +sincere. 'Where is the place?' he asked. 'At the end of the wood?' + +'Quite right,' I answered. + +'Ah, then, it is not our soldiers,' he said with relief; 'there is a +detachment of machine gunners there, and they have no officers at all.' + +He expressed a wish, in spite of the lateness of the hour, to examine +the damage personally with two other officers. They assured me that the +things were bound to be found, and punishment would fall on the guilty +under the severe military law. + +We all walked back through the camp by a forest track which I had known +from childhood as well as the paths of my own garden. The mist had +thickened, the fires seemed veiled as with cobwebs. Everywhere around +horses were eating hay and scraping up the ground solid with pine-tree +roots. Songs ended in silence and began again farther off. + +On the way I explained directly to the officers that my special object +was not to get back the things or to punish the thieves, and certainly +not according to 'the severe military law'. How was I to trace the +thieves? My watchman would certainly not recognize them, because he was +not familiar with shoulder straps, and would say that in that respect +all soldiers were alike. I was oniy afraid of further damage in the +house, its locks being rotten, and what I desired was that in case the +army stayed there, a guard should be appointed. + +So we reached the house. Martin conducted the gentlemen through the +rooms, and by the light of a candle showed them the condition of +things. The officers, with obvious annoyance, discovered a 'veritable +pogrom'. They could not be expected to understand what the loss +incurred by the scattering of so many books meant to me; one of them +smelt of English 'Sweet Pea' perfume, like a bouquet of flowers. Yet +they clinked their spurs together, and as they went out they again +apologized for the injury done and appointed a sentry, who went on +guard at midnight. + + + + + +II + + +Day came fall of clouds that hung right over the tops of the trees, +full of wind and cold, but dry--quite a genuine summer day. + +Round the house from early morning soldiers were moving about, +mitigating the weariness of the man on guard. Now one, now another +wanted to see how the pillaged house looked. Quite simply they walked +through the open door into the interior, finishing what remained of the +unripe apples they had picked in the garden. One stood still on the +threshold, put his hand to his cap, bowed, and duly asked, 'if the lady +would allow?' + +Then he entered, stooped, and picked up two books from the ground. 'May +I be permitted to take the liberty of asking to whom these books +belong? What is the reason for their exceedingly great number? Do they +serve a special department of study?' He made his inquiries in such a +stilted way that I was forced laboriously to keep my answers on the +same level. He owned he would be happy if I would agree that he should +help in the work, for he had not had a book in his hand for a year. He +therefore stayed in the garret and with the anxiety of a genuine +bibliomaniac collected volumes of similar size and shape, put together +scattered maps and tied up bundles. Martin looked distrustfully at this +assistant, and annoyance was depicted on the face of Martin's wife. In +front of the house one of the soldiers had brought cigarettes to the +man on guard. Another turned to him ironically: 'Well, under the +circumstances I suppose you are going to light one?' + +'You are not allowed to light a cigarette on guard?' + +'It wouldn't be allowed; but perhaps, as there is no officer to see +me....' + +The speaker was a young, fair-haired, amiable boy, assistant to an +engine driver in some small town in Siberia. He was quite ready to +relate his history. He could not wonder sufficiently how it came to +pass that he was still alive. He had run away from the trenches at S., +certain that he would die if he were not taken prisoner. The fire of +the enemy was concentrated on their entrenchment, so as to cut off all +chance of escape. Every one round him fell, and he was constantly +feeling himself to ascertain that he was not wounded. 'You see, lady, +when they turn their whole fire on one spot, you must get away; it +rains so thick that no one can stand it.' + +'Well, and didn't you fire just as thick?' + +He looked with amiable wonder. 'When we had nothing to fire?' he said +good-humouredly. + +Well, somehow it all ended happily. But, then, the others, his +companions...ah, how dashing they had been, what fellows! An admirable, +glorious army, the S. Regiment! Almost everyone was killed; it was sad +to see them. Now they had to fill up the gaps with raw recruits; but it +was no longer the old army; there will never be such fighting again.... +It will be hard to discipline them. They had fought continuously for a +year. A whole year in the war! They had been close to Drialdow, in +Lwow, even close to Cracow itself. 'Do you know Cracow, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'Well, then, just there, just five miles from Cracow. The bitter cold +of a windy day penetrated to our bones. To think that the town was only +five miles off!' + +I went away to return to the packing of my books. At the door I noticed +a woman standing, a neighbour; she was frightened and timid. + +'I suppose they have robbed you, lady?' + +'They have.' + +'And now they are at it in my place,' she said softly. 'Their cattle +have eaten up my whole meadow, and they are tearing up everything in my +kitchen-garden. I was looking this morning; not a cucumber left. +To-morrow they will begin mowing the oats; the officer gave me an +advance in money, and the rest he paid with note of hand. Is it true +that they are going to burn everything?' + +'I don't know.' + +The new watchman came up, young, black-eyed, a gloomy Siberian +villager. When he laughed, his teeth shone like claws. + +'We have stolen nothing, but we are ordered to do penance,' he said +defiantly to Martin. 'Very well, we'll do it. It was worse in the +trenches--a great deal worse! Often we were so close to the enemy that +we could see them perfectly. We used to take off our caps, raise them +in the air; they fired. If they hit, then we waved a white +handkerchief: that meant they had made a hit. Later on they would show +their caps and we fired.' + +'Are you from a distance?' Martin asked. + +'From Siberia,' he answered, and turned his head. 'We were four +brothers all serving in the army; two still write to me, the fourth is +gone. Our father is an old man, and neither ploughs nor sows. He sold a +beautiful colt for 150 roubles, for what is the use of a horse when +there is no more farming? God! what a country this is,' he continued +with pity. 'With us in Siberia a farmer with no more than ten cows is +called poor. We are rich! We have land where wheat grows like anything. +Manure we cart away and burn; we've no use for it. Ah! Siberia!' + +The woman, my neighbour, sat in silence. It was strange to her to hear +of this country as the Promised Land. When she had to go she said, +thoughtfully and nervously: 'Of course if I hadn't sold him the oats +they would have taken them. Even those two roubles on account were +better than that.' + +I went upstairs again, and by evening the work of packing the books and +things was completed. + +The soldier who loved books made elaborate remarks on them also to his +simple comrades. He spoke about the psychical aspect of fighting, the +physiology of heroic deeds, the resignation of those destined for +death, &c. He was a thoughtful man and unquestionably sensitive; but +all that he said had the stamp of oriental thought, systematically +arranged in advance and quite perfectly expressed at the moment, free +from the immediate naivete of elementary knowledge. + +'Do you belong,' I said, 'to this detachment of machine gunners?' + +'Unquestionably; I am, as you see, lady, a simple soldier.' + +'I should like to see a machine gun at close quarters. Can I?' + +I immediately perceived that I had asked something out of order. He was +confused and turned pale. + +'I have never seen a machine gun,' I continued, 'up to now; but, of +course, if there are any difficulties...' + +'It is not that,' he answered, with hesitation. 'I must tell you +honestly, lady, we haven't a single cartridge left.' + +He checked himself and was silent; at that moment he did not show the +repose of a psychologist. + +'Do you understand, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'And also we have absolutely no officers. There is nothing but what you +see there in the forest; the rest are pitiful remnants--some 200 +soldiers left out of two regiments.' + +Early next day Martin joyously informed me that in the night the +soldiers had gone away. They had burnt nothing, but it was likely that +another detachment would come in by the evening. + +'And the soldier who helped you to pack was here very early. I told him +the lady was asleep, so he only left this card.' + +_It was a visiting card with a bent edge; at the bottom was written, +in pencil and in Roman characters,_ + +'p.p.c.' + +'Yes, my friend,' I thought to myself, 'that is just the souvenir I +should have expected you to leave me after plundering me right and +left... a "P.P.C." card! And my deliverance from you means destruction +to somebody else's woods, house, and garden.' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Polish Tales, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + +This file should be named 7pltl10.txt or 7pltl10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7pltl11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7pltl10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Selected Polish Tales + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June, 2005 [EBook #8378] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 4, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + +SELECTED + +POLISH TALES + +TRANSLATED BY + +ELSE C. M. BENECKE + +AND + +MARIE BUSCH + + + +_This selection of Tales by Polish authors was first published in +'The World's Classics' in 1921 and reprinted in 1928, 1942, and +1944._ + + + +CONTENTS + + + +PREFACE + + +THE OUTPOST. By BOLESLAW PRUS + +A PINCH or SALT. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER. By ADAM SZYMANSKI + +FOREBODINGS. By STEFAN ZERKOMSKI + +A POLISH SCENE. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +DEATH. By WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + +THE SENTENCE. By J. KADEN-BANDROWSKI + +'P.P.C.' By MME KYCIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +PREFACE + + +My friend the late Miss Else C. M. Benecke left a number of Polish +stories in rough translation, and I am carrying out her wishes in +editing them and handing them over to English readers. In spite of +failing health during the last years of her life, she worked hard at +translations from this beautiful but difficult language, and the two +volumes, _Tales by Polish Authors_ and _More Tales by Polish +Authors_, published by Mr. Basil Blackwell at Oxford, were among the +first attempts to make modern Polish fiction known in this country. In +both these volumes I collaborated with her. + +England is fortunate in counting Joseph Conrad among her own novelists; +although a Pole by birth he is one of the greatest masters of English +style. The Polish authors who have written in their own language have +perhaps been most successful in the short story. Often it is so slight +that it can hardly be called a story, but each of these sketches +conveys a distinct atmosphere of the country and the people, and shows +the individuality of each writer. The unhappy state of Poland for more +than 150 years has placed political and social problems in the +foreground of Polish literature. Writers are therefore judged and +appraised by their fellow-countrymen as much by their patriotism as by +their literary and artistic merits. + +Of the authors whose work is presented in this volume _Prus_ +(Aleksander Glowacki), the veteran of modern Polish novelists, is the +one most loved by his own countrymen. His books are written partly with +a moral object, as each deals with a social evil. But while he exposes +the evil, his warm heart and strong sense of justice--combined with a +sense of humour--make him fair and even generous to all. + +The poignant appeal of _Szymánski's_ stories lies in the fact that +they are based on personal experiences. He was banished to Yakutsk in +Siberia for six years when he was quite a young man and had barely +finished his studies at the University of Warsaw, at a time when every +profession of radicalism, however moderate, was punished severely by +the Russian authorities. He died, a middle-aged man, during the War, +after many years of literary and journalistic activity in the interest +of his country. Neither he nor Prus lived to see Poland free and +republican, an ideal for which they had striven. + +_Zeromski_ is a writer of intense feeling. If Prus's kindly and +simple tales are the most beloved, Zeromski's more subtle psychological +treatment of his subjects is the most admired, and he is said to mark +an epoch in Polish fiction. In the two short sketches contained in this +volume, as well as in most of his short stories and longer novels, the +dominant note is human suffering. + +_Reymont_, who is a more impersonal writer and more detached from +his subject, is perhaps the most artistic among the authors of short +stories. His volume entitled _Peasants_, from which the two +sketches in this collection are taken, gives very powerful and +realistic pictures of life in the villages. + +_Kaden-Bandrowski_ is a very favourite author in his own country, +as many of his short stories deal with Polish life during the Great +War. In the early part of the War he joined the Polish Legions which +formed the nucleus of Pilsudski's army, and shared their varying +fortunes. During the greater part of this time he edited a radical +newspaper for his soldiers, in whom he took a great interest. The +story, _The Sentence_, was translated by me from a French +translation kindly made by the author. + +Mme _Rygier-Nalkowska_, who, with Kaden-Bandrowski, belongs to the +youngest group of Polish writers, is a strong feminist of courageous +views, and a keen satirist of certain national and social conventions. +The present volume only contains a short sketch--a personal experience +of hers during the early part of the War. It would be considered a very +daring thing for a Polish lady to venture voluntarily into the zone of +the Russian army, but her little sketch shows the individual Russian to +be as human as any other soldier. This sketch and the first of +Reymont's have been translated by Mr. Joseph Solomon, whose knowledge +of Slavonic languages makes him a most valuable co-operator. + +My share in the work has been to put Miss Benecke's literal translation +into a form suitable for publication, and to get into touch with the +authors or their representatives, to whom I would now tender my +grateful thanks for their courteous permission to issue this volume, +viz. to Mme Glowacka, widow of 'Prus', to the sons of the late Mr. +Szymánski, to MM. Zeromski, Reymont, Kaden-Bandrowski, and to Mme +Rygier-Nalkowska, all of Warsaw. + +MARIE BUSCH. + + + + + + +THE OUTPOST + +BY + +BOLESLAW PRUS + +(ALEKSANDER GLOWACKI) + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +The river Bialka springs from under a hill no bigger than a cottage; +the water murmurs in its little hollow like a swarm of bees getting +ready for their flight. + +For the distance of fifteen miles the Bialka flows on level ground. +Woods, villages, trees in the fields, crucifixes by the roadside show +up clearly and become smaller and smaller as they recede into the +distance. It is a bit of country like a round table on which human +beings live like a butterfly covered by a blue flower. What man finds +and what another leaves him he may eat, but he must not go too far or +fly too high. + +Fifteen to twenty miles farther to the south the country begins to +change. The shallow banks of the Bialka rise and retreat from each +other, the flat fields become undulating, the path leads ever more +frequently and steeply up and down hill. + +The plain has disappeared and given place to a ravine; you are +surrounded by hills of the height of a many-storied house; all are +covered with bushes; sometimes the ascent is steep, sometimes gradual. +The first ravine leads into a second, wilder and narrower, thence into +a succession of nine or ten. Cold and dampness cling to you when you +walk through them; you climb one of the hills and find yourself +surrounded by a network of forking and winding ravines. + +A short distance from the river-banks the landscape is again quite +different. The hills grow smaller and stand separate like great +ant-hills. You have emerged from the country of ravines into the broad +valley of the Bialka, and the bright sun shines full into your eyes. + +If the earth is a table on which Providence has spread a banquet for +creation, then the valley of the Bialka is a gigantic, long-shaped dish +with upturned rim. In the winter this dish is white, but at other +seasons it is like majolica, with forms severe and irregular, but +beautiful. The Divine Potter has placed a field at the bottom of the +dish and cut it through from north to south with the ribbon of the +Bialka sparkling with waves of sapphire blue in the morning, crimson in +the evening, golden at midday, and silver in moonlit nights. + +When He had formed the bottom, the Great Potter shaped the rim, taking +care that each side should possess an individual physiognomy. + +The west bank is wild; the field touches the steep gravel hills, where +a few scattered hawthorn bushes and dwarf birches grow. Patches of +earth show here and there, as though the turf had been peeled. Even the +hardiest plants eschew these patches, where instead of vegetation the +surface presents clay and strata of sand, or else rock showing its +teeth to the green field. + +The east bank has a totally different character; it forms an +amphitheatre with three tiers. The first tier above the field is of +mould and contains a row of cottages surrounded by trees: this is the +village. On the second tier, where the ground is clay, stands the +manor-house, almost on top of the village, with which an avenue of old +lime-trees connects it. To the right and left extend the manor-fields, +large and rectangular, sown with wheat, rye, and peas, or else lying +fallow. The sandy soil of the third tier is sown with rye or oats and +fringed by the pine-forest, its contours showing black against the sky. + +The northern ridge contains little hills standing singly. One of them +is the highest in the neighbourhood and is crowned by a solitary pine. +This hill, together with two others, is the property of the +gospodarz[1] The gospodarstwo is like a hermitage; it is a long way +from the village and still farther from the manor-house. + +[Footnote 1: _Gospodarz_: the owner of a small holding, as +distinct from the villager, who owns no land and is simply an +agricultural labourer. The word, which means host, master of the house, +will be used throughout the book. _Gospodyni_: hostess, mistress +of the holding. _Gospodarstwo_: the property.] + + +Josef Slimak. + + +Slimak's cottage is by the roadside, the front door opening on to the +road, the back door into the yard; the cowhouse and pigsty are under +one roof, the barn, stable, and cart-shed forming the other three sides +of the square courtyard. + +The peasants chaff Slimak for living in exile like a Sibiriak.[1] It is +true, they say, that he lives nearer to the church, but on the other +hand he has no one to open his mouth to. + +[Footnote 1: Sibiriak: a person of European birth or extraction living +in Siberia.] + +However, his solitude is not complete. On a warm autumn day, when the +white-coated gospodarz is ploughing on the hill with a pair of horses, +you can see his wife and a girl, both in red petticoats, digging up +potatoes. + +Between the hills the thirteen-year-old Jendrek[1] minds the cows and +performs strange antics meanwhile to amuse himself. If you look more +closely you will also find the eight-year-old Stasiek[2] with hair as +white as flax, who roams through the ravines or sits under the lonely +pine on the hill and looks thoughtfully into the valley. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling, _Jedrek_ (pronounced as given, +Jendrek, with the French sound of _en_): Andrew.] + +[Footnote 2: _Stasiek_: diminutive of Stanislas.] + +That gospodarstwo--a drop in the sea of human interest--was a small +world in itself which had gone through various phases and had a history +of its own. + +For instance, there was the time when Josef Slimak had scarcely seven +acres of land and only his wife in the cottage. Then there came two +surprises, his wife bore him a son--Jendrek,--and as the result of the +servituty[1] his holding was increased by three acres. + +[Footnote 1: _Servituty_ are pieces of land which, on the +abolition of serfdom, the landowners had to cede to the peasants +formerly their serfs. The settlement was left to the discretion of the +owners, and much bargaining and discontent on both sides resulted +therefrom; the peasants had to pay percentage either in labour or in +produce to the landowner.] + +Both these circumstances created a great change in the gospodarz's +life; he bought another cow and pig and occasionally hired a labourer. + +Some years later his second son, Stasiek, was born. Then Slimakowa[1] +hired a woman by way of an experiment for half a year to help her with +the work. + +[Footnote 1: Slimakowa: Polish form for Mrs. Slimak.] + +Sobieska stayed for nine months, then one night she escaped to the +village, her longing for the public-house having become too strong. Her +place was taken by 'Silly Zoska'[1] for another six months. Slimakowa +was always hoping that the work would grow less, and she would be able +to dispense with a servant. However, 'Silly Zoska' stayed for six +years, and when she went into service at the manor the work at the +cottage had not grown less. So the gospodyni engaged a fifteen-year-old +orphan, Magda, who preferred to go into service, although she had a +cow, a bit of land, and half a cottage of her own. She said that her +uncle beat her too much, and that her other relations only offered her +the cold comfort that the more he applied the stick the better it would +be for her. + +[Footnote: Zoska: diminutive of Sophia.] + +Up till then Slimak had chiefly done his own farm work and rarely hired +a labourer. This still left him time to go to work at the manor with +his horses, or to carry goods from the town for the Jews. + +When, however, he was summoned more and more often to the manor, he +found that the day-labourer was not sufficient, and began to look out +for a permanent farm-hand. + +One autumn day, after his wife had been rating him severely for not yet +having found a farmhand, it chanced that Maciek Owczarz,[1] whose foot +had been crushed under a cart, came out of the hospital. The lame man's +road led him past Slimak's cottage; tired and miserable he sat down on +a stone by the gate and looked longingly into the entrance. The +gospodyni was boiling potatoes for the pigs, and the smell was so good, +as the little puffs of steam spread along the highroad, that it went +into the very pit of Maciek's stomach. He sat there in fascination, +unable to move. + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: Ovcharge. _Maciek_ +(pron. Machik): Matthew.] + +'Is that you, Owczarz?' Slimakowa asked, hardly recognizing the poor +wretch in his rags. + +'Indeed, it is I,' the man answered miserably. + +'They said in the village that you had been killed.' + +'I have been worse off than that; I have been in the hospital. I wish I +had been left under the cart, I shouldn't be so hungry now.' + +The gospodyni became thoughtful. + +'If only one could be sure that you wouldn't die, you could stay here +as our farm-hand.' + +The poor fellow jumped up from his seat and walked to the door, +dragging his foot. + +'Why should I die?' he cried, 'I am quite well, and when I have a bit +to eat I can do the work of two. Give me barszcz[1] and I will chop up +a cartload of wood for you. Try me for a week, and I will plough all +those fields. I will serve you for old clothes and patched boots, so +long as I have a shelter for the winter.' + +[Footnote 1: Pronunciation approximately: barsht. The national dish of +the peasants; it is made with beetroot and bread, tastes slightly sour, +and is said to be delicious.] + +Here Maciek paused, astonished at himself for having said so much, for +he was silent by nature. + +Slimakowa looked him up and down, gave him a bowl of barszcz and +another of potatoes, and told him to wash in the river. When her +husband came home in the evening Maciek was introduced to him as the +farm-hand who had already chopped wood and fed the cattle. + +Slimak listened in silence. As he was tenderhearted he said, after a +pause: + +'Well, stay with us, good man. It will be better for us and better for +you. And if ever--God grant that may not happen--there should be no +bread in the cottage at all, then you will be no worse off than you are +to-day. Rest, and you will set about your work all right.' + +Thus it came about that this new inmate was received into the cottage. +He was quiet as a mouse, faithful as a dog, and industrious as a pair +of horses, in spite of his lameness. + +After that, with the exception of the yellow dog Burek, no additions +were made to Slimak's household, neither children nor servants nor +property. Life at the gospodarstwo went with perfect regularity. All +the labour, anxiety, and hopes of these human beings centred in the one +aim: daily bread. For this the girl carried in the firewood, or, +singing and jumping, ran to the pit for potatoes. For this the +gospodyni milked the cows at daybreak, baked bread, and moved her +saucepans on and off the fire. For this Maciek, perspiring, dragged his +lame leg after the plough and harrow, and Slimak, murmuring his +morning-prayers, went at dawn to the manor-barn or drove into the town +to deliver the corn which he had sold to the Jews. + +For the same reason they worried when there was not enough snow on the +rye in winter, or when they could not get enough fodder for the cattle; +or prayed for rain in May and for fine weather at the end of June. On +this account they would calculate after the harvest how much corn they +would get out of a korzec,[1] and what prices it would fetch. Like bees +round a hive their thoughts swarmed round the question of daily bread. +They never moved far from this subject, and to leave it aside +altogether was impossible. They even said with pride that, as gentlemen +were in the world to enjoy themselves and to order people about, so +peasants existed for the purpose of feeding themselves and others. + +[Footnote 1: A _korzec_ is twelve hundred sheaves.] + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was April. After their dinner Slimak's household dispersed to their +different occupations. The gospodyni, tying a red handkerchief round +her head and a white linen one round her neck, ran down to the river. +Stasiek followed her, looking at the clouds and observing to himself +that they were different every day. Magda busied herself washing up the +dinner things, singing 'Oh, da, da', louder and louder in proportion as +the mistress went farther away. Jendrek began pushing Magda about, +pulling the dog's tail and whistling penetratingly; finally he ran out +with a spade into the orchard. Slimak sat by the stove. He was a man of +medium height with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. He had a calm +face, short moustache, and thick straight hair falling abundantly over +his forehead and on to his neck. A red-glass stud set in brass shone in +his sacking shirt. He rested the elbow of his left arm on his right +fist and smoked a pipe, but when his eyes closed and his head fell too +far forward, he righted himself and rested his right elbow on his left +fist. He puffed out the grey smoke and dozed alternately, spitting now +and then into the middle of the room or shifting his hands. When the +pipestem began to twitter like a young sparrow, he knocked the bowl a +few times against the bench, emptied the ashes, and poked his finger +down. Yawning, he got up and laid the pipe on the shelf. + +He glanced under his brows at Magda and shrugged his shoulders. The +liveliness of the girl who skipped about while she was washing her +dishes, roused a contemptuous compassion in him. He knew well what it +felt like to have no desire for skipping about, and how great the +weight of a man's head, hands, and feet can be when he has been hard at +work. + +He put on his thick hobnailed boots and a stiff sukmana,[1] fastened a +hard strap round his waist, and put on his high sheepskin cap. The +heaviness in his limbs increased, and it came into his mind that it +would be more suitable to be buried in a bundle of straw after a huge +bowl of peeled barley-soup and another of cheese dumplings, than to go +to work. But he put this thought aside, and went out slowly into the +yard. In his snuff-coloured sukmana and black cap he looked like the +stem of a pine, burnt at the top. + +[Footnote 1: _Sukmana_, a long linen coat, often elaborately +embroidered.] + +The barn door was open, and by sheer perversity some bundles of straw +were peeping out, luring Slimak to a doze. But he turned away his head +and looked at one of the hills where he had sown oats that morning. He +fancied the yellow grain in the furrows was looking frightened, as if +trying in vain to hide from the sparrows that were picking it up. + +'You will eat me up altogether,' Slimak muttered. With heavy steps he +approached the shed, took out the two harrows, and led the chestnuts +out of the stable; one was yawning and the other moved his lips, +looking at Slimak and blinking his eyes, as if he thought: 'Would you +not prefer to doze and not to drag us up the hill? Didn't we do enough +work for you yesterday?' Slimak nodded, as if in answer, and drove off. + +Seen from below, the thick-set man and the horses with heads hanging +down, seemed to harrow the blue sky, moving a few hundred paces +backward and forward. As often as they reached the edge of the sown +field, a flight of sparrows rose up, twittering angrily, and flew over +them like a cloud, then settled at the other end, shrieking continually +in astonishment that earth should be poured on to such lovely grain. + +'Silly fool! Silly fool! What a silly fool!' they cried. + +'Bah!' murmured Slimak, cracking his whip at them, 'if I listened to +you idlers, you and I would both starve under the fence. The beggars +are playing the deuce here!' + +Certainly Slimak got little encouragement in his labour. Not only that +the sparrows noisily criticized his work, and the chestnuts scornfully +whisked their tails under his nose, but the harrows also objected, and +resisted at every little stone or clod of earth. The tired horses +continually stumbled, and when Slimak cried 'Woa, my lads!' and they +went on, the harrows again resisted and pulled them back. When the +worried harrows moved on for a bit, stones got into the horses' feet or +under his own shoes, or choked up, and even broke the teeth of the +harrows. Even the ungrateful earth offered resistance. + +'You are worse than a pig!' the man said angrily. 'If I took to +scratching a pig's back with a horsecomb, it would lie down quietly and +grunt with gratitude. But you are always bristling, as if I did you an +injury!' + +The sun took up the affronted earth's cause, and threw a great sheaf of +light across the ashen-coloured field, where dark and yellow patches +were visible. + +'Look at that black patch,' said the sun, 'the hill was all black like +that when your father sowed wheat on it. And now look at the yellow +patch where the stony ground comes out from under the mould and will +soon possess all your land.' + +'But that is not my fault,' said Slimak. + +'Not your fault?' whispered the earth; 'you yourself eat three times a +day, but how often do you feed me? It is much if it is once in eight +years. And then you think you give me a great deal, but a dog would +starve on such fare. You know that you always grudge me the manure, +shame on you!' + +The penitent peasant hung his head. + +'And you sleep twice in twenty-four hours unless your wife drives you +to work, but how much rest do you give me? Once in ten years, and then +your cattle trample upon me. So I am to be content with being harrowed? +Just try giving no hay or litter to your cows, only scratch them and +see whether they will give you milk. They will get ill, the slaughterer +will have to be sent for, and even the Jew will give you nothing for +their hides.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' sighed the peasant, acknowledging that the earth +was right. But no one pitied or comforted him--on the contrary! The +west wind rose, and twining itself among the dry stalks on the +field-paths, whistled: + +'Look sharp, you'll catch it! I will bring such a deluge of rain that +the remainder of the mould will be spurted on to the highroad or into +the manor-fields. And though you should harrow with your own teeth, you +shall get less and less comfort every year! I will make everything +sterile!' + +The wind was not threatening in vain. In Slimak's father's time ten +korzy of sheaves an acre had been harvested here. Now he had to be +thankful for seven, and what was going to happen in the future? + +'That's a peasant's lot,' murmured Slimak, 'work, work, work, and from +one difficulty you get into another. If only it could be otherwise, if +only I could manage to have another cow and perhaps get that little +meadow....' + +His whip was pointed at the green field by the Bialka. + +But the sparrows only twittered 'You fool!' and the earth groaned: 'You +are starving me!' + +He stopped the horses and looked around him to divert his thoughts. + +Jendrek was digging between the cottage and the highroad, throwing +stones at the birds now and then or singing out of tune: + + 'God grant you, God grant you + That I may not find you. + For else, my fair maid, + You should open your gate.' + +And Magda answered from within: + + 'Although I am poor + And my mother was poor, + I'll not at the gate + Kiss you early or late.' + +Slimak turned towards the river where his wife could be plainly seen in +her white chemise and red skirt, bending over the water and beating the +linen with a stick until the valley rang. Stasiek had already strayed +farther towards the ravines. Sometimes he knelt down on the bank and +gazed into the river, supported on his elbows. Slimak smiled. + +'Peering again! What does he see down there?' he whispered. + +Stasiek was his favourite, and struck him as an unusual child, who +could see things that others did not see. + +While Slimak cracked his whip and the horses went on, his thoughts were +travelling in the direction of the desired field. + +'How much land have I got?' he meditated, 'ten acres; if I had only +sown six or seven every year and let the rest lie fallow, how could I +have fed my hungry family? And the man, he eats as much as I do, though +he is lame; and he has fifteen roubles wages besides. Magda eats less, +but then she is lazy enough to make a dog howl. I'm lucky when they +want me for work at the manor, or if a Jewess hires my horses to go for +a drive, or my wife sells butter and eggs. And what is there saved when +all is said and done? Perhaps fifty roubles in the whole year. When we +were first married, a hundred did not astonish me. Manure the ground +indeed! Let the squire take it into his head not to employ me, or not +to sell me fodder, what then? I should have to drive the cattle to +market and die of hunger. + +'I am not as well off as Gryb or Lukasiak or Sarnecki. They live like +gentlemen. One drives to church with his wife, the other wears a cap +like a burgher, and the third would like to turn out the Wojt[1] and +wear the chain himself. But I have to say to myself, 'Be poor on ten +acres and go and bow and scrape to the bailiff at the manor that he may +remember you. Well, let it be as it is! Better be master on a square +yard of your own than a beggar on another's large estate.' A cloud of +dust was rising on the high-road beyond the river. Some one was coming +towards the bridge from the manor-house, riding in a peculiar fashion. +The wind blew from behind, but the dust was so thick that sometimes it +travelled backwards. Occasionally horse and rider showed above it, but +the next moment it whirled round and round them again, as if the road +was raising a storm. Slimak shaded his eyes with his hand. + +[Footnote 1: The designations Wojt and Soltys are derived from the +German Vogt and Sdiultheiss. Their functions in the townships or +villages are of a different kind; in small villages there may be only +one of these functionaries, the Soltys. He is the representative of the +Government, collects rates and taxes and requisitions horses for the +army. The Wojt is head of the village, and magistrate. All legal +matters would be referred to him.] + +'What an odd way of riding? who can it be? not the squire, nor his +coachman. He can't be a Catholic, not even a Jew; for although a Jew +would bob up and down on the horse as he does, he would never make a +horse go in that reckless way. It must be some crazy stranger.' + +The rider had now come near enough for Slimak to see what he was like. +He was slim and dressed in gentleman's clothes, consisting of a light +suit and velvet jockey cap. He had eyeglasses on his nose and a cigar +in his mouth, and he was carrying his riding whip under his arm, +holding the reins in both hands between the horse's neck and his own +beard, while he was shaking violently up and down; he hugged the saddle +so tightly with his bow legs that his trousers were rucked up, showing +his calves. + +Anyone in the very least acquainted with equestrian matters could guess +that this was the first time the rider had sat upon a horse, or that +the horse had carried such a rider. At moments they seemed to be +ambling along harmoniously, until the bobbing cavalier would lose his +balance and tug at the reins; then the horse, which had a soft mouth, +would turn sideways or stand still; the rider would then smack his +lips, and if this had no effect he would fumble for the whip. The +horse, guessing what was required, would start again, shaking him up +and down until he looked like a rag doll badly sewn together. + +All this did not upset his temper, for indeed, this was the first time +the rider had realized the dearest wish of a lifetime, and he was +enjoying himself to the full. + +Sometimes the quiet but desperate horse would break into a gallop. Then +the rider, keeping his balance by a miracle, would drop his +bridle-fantasias and imagine himself a cavalry captain riding to the +attack at the head of his squadron, until, unaccustomed to his rank of +officer, he would perform some unexpected movement which made the horse +suddenly stand still again, and would cause the gallant captain to hit +his nose or his cigar against the neck of his steed. + +He was, moreover, a democratic gentleman. When the horse took a fancy +to trot towards the village instead of towards the bridge, a crowd of +dogs and children ran after him with every sign of pleasure. Instead of +annoyance a benevolent enjoyment would then take possession of him, for +next to riding exercise he passionately loved the people, because they +could manage horses. After a while, however, his role of cavalry +captain would please him more, and after further performances with the +reins, he succeeded in turning back towards the bridge. He evidently +intended to ride through the length and breadth of the valley. + +Slimak was still watching him. + +'Eh, that must be the squire's brother-in-law, who was expected from +Warsaw,' he said to himself, much amused; 'our squire chose a gracious +little wife, and was not even very long about it; but he might have +searched the length of the world for a brother-in-law like that! A bear +would be a commoner sight in these parts than a man sitting a horse as +he does! He looks as stupid as a cowherd--still, he is the squire's +brother-in-law.' + +While Slirnak was thus taking the measure of this friend of the people, +the latter had reached the bridge; the noise of Slimakowa's stick had +attracted his attention. He turned the horse towards the bridge-rail +and craned his neck over the water; indeed, his slim figure and peaked +jockey cap made him look uncommonly like a crane. + +'What does he want now?' thought Slimak. The horseman was evidently +asking Slimakowa a question, for she got up and raised her head. Slimak +noticed for the first time that she was in the habit of tucking up her +skirts very high, showing her bare knees. + +'What the deuce does he want?' he repeated, objecting to the short +skirt. + +The cavalier rode off the bridge with no little difficulty and reined +up beside the woman. Slimak was now watching breathlessly. + +Suddenly the young man stretched out his hand towards Slimakowa's neck, +but she raised her stick so threateningly that the scared horse started +away at a gallop, and the rider was left clinging to his neck. + +'Jagna! what are you doing?' shouted Slimak; 'that's the squire's +brother-in-law, you fool!' + +But the shout did not reach her, and the young man did not seem at all +offended. He kissed his hand to Slimakowa and dug his heels into the +horse, which threw up its head and started in the direction of the +cottage at a sharp trot. But this time success did not attend the +rider, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and clutching his charger +by the mane, he shouted: 'Stop, you devil!' + +Jendrek heard the cry, clambered on to the gate, and seeing the strange +performance, burst out laughing. The rider's jockey cap fell off. 'Pick +up the cap, my boy,' the horseman called out in passing. + +'Pick it up yourself,' laughed Jendrek, clapping his hands to excite +the horse still more. + +The father listened to the boy's answer speechless with astonishment, +but he soon recovered himself. + +'Jendrek, you young dog, give the gentleman his cap when he tells you!' +he cried. + +Jendrek took the jockey cap between two fingers, holding it in front of +him and offering it to the rider when he had succeeded in stopping his +horse. + +'Thank you, thank you very much,' he said, no less amused than Jendrek +himself. + +'Jendrek, take off your cap to the gentleman at once,' called Slimak. + +'Why should I take off my cap to everybody?' asked the lad saucily. + +'Excellent, that's right!...' The young man seemed pleased. 'Wait, you +shall have twenty kopeks for that; a free citizen should never humble +himself before anybody.' + +Slimak, by no means sharing the gentleman's democratic theories, +advanced towards Jendrek with his cap in one hand and the whip in the +other. + +'Citizen!' cried the cavalier, 'I beg you not to beat the boy...do not +crush his independent soul...do not...' he would have liked to have +continued, but the horse, getting bored, started off again in the +direction of the bridge. When he saw Slimakowa coming towards the +cottage, he took off his dusty cap and called out: + +'Madam, do not let him beat the boy!' + +Jendrek had disappeared. + +Slimak stood rooted to the spot, pondering upon this queer fish, who +first was impertinent to his wife, then called her 'Madam', and himself +'Citizen', and praised Jendrek for his cheek. + +He returned angrily to his horses. + +'Woa, lads! what's the world coming to? A peasant's son won't take off +his cap to a gentleman, and the gentleman praises him for it! He is the +squire's brother-in-law--all the same, he must be a little wrong in his +head. Soon there will be no gentlemen left, and then the peasants will +have to die. Maybe when Jendrek grows up he will look after himself; he +won't be a peasant, that's clear. Woa, lads!' + +He imagined Jendrek in button-boots and a jockey cap, and he spat. + +'Bah! so long as I am about, you won't dress like that, young dog! All +the same I shall have to warm his latter end for him, or else he won't +take his cap off to the squire next, and then I can go begging. It's +the wife's fault, she is always spoiling him. There's nothing for it, I +must give him a hiding.' + +Again dust was rising on the road, this time in the direction of the +plain. Slimak saw two forms, one tall, the other oblong; the oblong was +walking behind the tall one and nodding its head. + +'Who's sending a cow to market?' he thought, '... well, the boy must be +thrashed...if only I could have another cow and that bit of field.' + +He drove the horses down the hill towards the Bialka, where he caught +sight of Stasiek, but could see nothing more of his farm or of the +road. He was beginning to feel very tired; his feet seemed a heavy +weight, but the weight of uncertainty was still greater, and he never +got enough sleep. When his work was finished, he often had to drive off +to the town. + +'If I had another cow and that field,' he thought, 'I could sleep +more.' + +He had been meditating on this while harrowing over a fresh bit for +half an hour, when he heard his wife calling from the hill: + +'Josef, Josef!' + +'What's up?' + +'Do you know what has happened?' 'How should I know?' + +'Is it a new tax?' anxiously crossed his mind. + +'Magda's uncle has come, you know, that Grochowski....' + +'If he wants to take the girl back--let him.' + +'He has brought a cow and wants to sell her to Gryb for thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter. She is a lovely cow.' + +'Let him sell her; what's that to do with me?' + +'This much: that you are going to buy her,' said the woman firmly. + +Slimak dropped his hand with the whip, bent his head forward, and +looked at his wife. The proposal seemed monstrous. + +'What's wrong with you?' he asked. + +'Wrong with me?' She raised her voice. 'Can't I afford the cow? Gryb +has bought his wife a new cart, and you grudge me the beasts? There are +two cows in the shed; do you ever trouble about them? You wouldn't have +a shirt to your back if it weren't for them.' + +'Good Lord,' groaned the man, who was getting muddled by his wife's +eloquence,' how am I to feed her? they won't sell me fodder from the +manor.' + +'Rent that field, and you will have fodder.' + +'Fear God, Jagna! what are you saying? How am I to rent that field?' + +'Go to the manor and ask the square; say you will pay up the rent in a +year's time.' + +'As God lives, the woman is mad! our beasts pull a little from that +field now for nothing; I should be worse off, because I should have to +pay both for the cow and for the field. I won't go to the squire.' + +His wife came close up to him and looked into his eyes. 'You won't go?' + +'I won't go.' + +'Very well, then I will take what fodder there is and your horses may +go to the devil; but I won't let that cow go, _I_ will buy her!' + +'Then buy her.' + +'Yes, I will buy her, but you have got to do the bargaining with +Grochowski; I haven't the time, and I won't drink vodka with him.' + +'Drink! bargain with him! you are mad about that cow!' + +The quick-tempered woman shook her fist in his face. + +'Josef, don't upset me when you yourself have nothing at all to +propose. Listen! you are worrying every day that you haven't enough +manure; you are always telling me that you want three beasts, and when +the time comes, you won't buy them. The two cows you have cost you +nothing and bring you in produce, the third would be clear gain. +Listen.... I tell you, listen! Finish your work, then come indoors and +bargain for the cow; if not, I'll have nothing more to do with you.' + +She turned her back and went off. + +The man put his hands to his head. + +'God bless me, what a woman!' he groaned, 'how can I, poor devil, rent +that field? She persists in having the cow, and makes a fuss, and it +doesn't matter what you say, you may as well talk to a wall. Why was I +ever born? everything is against me. Woa, lads!' + +He fancied that the earth and the wind were laughing at him again: + +'You'll pay the thirty-five paper roubles and the silver rouble for the +halter! Week after week, month after month you have been putting by +your money, and to-day you'll spend it all as if you were cracking a +nut. You will swell Grochowski's pockets and your own pouch will be +empty. You will wait in fear and uncertainty at the manor and bow to +the bailiff when it pleases him to give you the receipt for your +rent!... + +'Perhaps the squire won't even let me have the field.' + +'Don't talk nonsense!' twittered the sparrows; 'you know quite well +that he'll let you have it.' + +'Oh yes, he'll let me have it,' he retorted hotly, 'for my good money. +I would rather bear a severe pain than waste money on such a foolish +thing.' + +The sun was low by the time Slimak had finished his last bit of +harrowing near the highroad. At the moment when he stopped he heard the +new cow low. Her voice pleased him and softened his heart a little. + +'Three cows is more than two,' he thought, 'people will respect me +more. But the money... ah well, it's all my own fault!' + +He remembered how many times he had said that he must have another cow +and that field, and had boasted to his wife that people had encouraged +him to carve his own farm implements, because he was so clever at it. + +She had listened patiently for two or three years; now at last she took +things into her own hands and told him to buy the cow and rent the +field at once. Merciful Jesu! what a hard woman! What would she drive +him to next? He would really have to put up sheds and make farm carts! + +Intelligent and even ingenious as Slimak was, he never dared to do +anything fresh unless driven to it. He understood his farm work +thoroughly, he could even mend the thrashing-machine at the +manor-house, and he kept everything in his head, beginning with the +rotation of crops on his land. Yet his mind lacked that fine thread +which joins the project to the accomplishment. Instead of this the +sense of obedience was very strongly developed in him. The squire, the +priest, the Wojt, his wife were all sent from God. He used to say: + +'A peasant is in the world to carry out orders.' + +The sun was sinking behind the hill crest when he drove his horses on +to the highroad, and he was pondering on how he would begin his +bargaining with Grochowski when he heard a guttural voice behind him, +'Heh! heh!' + +Two men were standing on the highroad, one was grey-headed and +clean-shaven, and wore a German peaked cap, the other young and tall, +with a beard and a Polish cap. A two-horse vehicle was drawn up a +little farther back. + +'Is that your field?' the bearded man asked in an unpleasant voice. + +'Stop, Fritz,' the elder interrupted him. + +'What am I to stop for?' the other said angrily. + +'Stop! Is this your land, gospodarz?' the grey-haired man asked very +politely. + +'Of course it's mine, who else should it belong to?' + +Stasiek came running up from the field at that moment and looked at the +strangers with a mixture of distrust and admiration. + +'And is that your field?' the bearded one repeated. + +'Stop, Fritz! Is it your field, gospodarz?' the old man corrected him. + +'It's not mine; it belongs to the manor.' + +'And whose is the hill with the pine?' + +'Stop, Fritz...' + +'Oh well, if you are going to interrupt all the time, father....' + +'Stop... is the hill yours, gospodarz?' + +'It's mine; no one else's.' + +'There you are, Fritz,' the old man said in German; 'that's the very +place for Wilhelm's windmill.' + +'The reason why Wilhelm has not yet put up a windmill is not that there +are no hills, but that he is a lazy fellow.' + +'Don't be disagreeable, Fritz! Then those fields beyond the highroad +and the ravines are not yours, gospodarz?' + +'How should they be, when they belong to the manor?' + +'Oh yes,' the bearded one interrupted impatiently; 'everyone knows that +he sits here in the manor-fields like a hole in a bridge. The devil +take the whole business.' + +'Wait, Fritz! Do the manor-fields surround you on all sides, +gospodarz?' + +'Of course.' + +'Well, that will do,' said the younger man, drawing his father towards +the carriage. + +'God bless you, gospodarz,' said the elder, touching his cap. + +'What a gossip you are, father! Wilhelm will never do anything; you may +find him ever so many hills.' + +'What do they want, daddy?' Stasiek asked suddenly. + +'Ah, yes! true!' + +Slimak was roused: 'Heh, sir!' + +The older man looked round. + +'What are you asking me all those questions for?' + +'Because it pleases us to do so,' the younger man answered, pushing his +father into the carriage. + +'Farewell! we shall meet again!' cried the old man. + +The carriage rolled away. + +'What a crew they are on the highroad to-day, it's like a fair!' said +Slimak. + +'But who are those people, daddy?' + +'Those? They must be Germans from Wolka, twelve miles from here.' + +'Why did they ask so many questions about your land?' + +'They are not the only ones to do that, child. This country pleases +people so much that they come over here from a long way off; they come +as far as the pine hill and then they go away again. That is all I know +about them.' + +He turned the horses homeward and was already forgetting the Germans. +The cow and the field were engaging all his thoughts. Supposing he +bought her! he would be able to manure the ground better, and he might +even pay an old man to come to the cottage for the winter and teach his +boys to read and write. What would the other peasants say to that? It +would greatly improve his position; he would have a better place in +church and at the inn, and with greater prosperity he would be able to +take more rest. + +Oh, for more rest! Slimak had never known hunger or cold, he had a good +home and human affection, and he would have been quite happy if only +his bones had not ached so much, and if he could have lain down or sat +still to his heart's content. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Returning to the courtyard, Slimak let Maciek take the horses. He +looked at the cow, which was tied to the fence. Despite the falling +darkness he could see that she was a beautiful creature; she was white +with black patches, had a small head, short horns and a large udder. He +examined her and admitted that neither of his cows were as fine as this +one. + +He thought of leading her round the yard, but he suddenly felt as if he +could not move another step, his arms seemed to be dropping from their +joints and his legs were sinking. Until sunset a man can go on +harrowing, but after sunset it is no good trying to do anything more. +So he patted the cow instead of leading her about. She seemed to +understand the situation, for she turned her head towards him and +touched his hand with her wet mouth. Slimak was so overcome with +emotion that he very nearly kissed her, as if she were a human being. + +'I must buy her,' he muttered, forgetting even his tiredness. + +The gospodyni stood in the door with a pail of dishwater for the +cattle. + +'Maciek,' she called, 'when the cow has had a drink, lead her to the +cowshed. The Soltys will stay the night; the cow can't be left out of +doors.' + +'Well, what next?' asked Slimak. + +'What has to be, has to be,' she replied. 'He wants the thirty-five +roubles and the silver rouble for the halter--but,' she continued after +a pause, 'truth is truth, she is worth it. I milked her, and though she +had been on the road, she gave more milk than Lysa.' + +'Have you asked him whether he won't come down a bit?' + +The peasant again felt the weariness in all his limbs. Good God! how +many hours of sleep would have to be sacrificed, before he could make +another thirty-five roubles! + +'Not likely! It's something that he will sell her to us at all; he +keeps on saying he promised her to Gryb.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'Come, Josef, be friendly and drink vodka with him, then perhaps the +Lord Jesus will give him reflection. But keep looking at me, and don't +talk too much; you will see, it will turn out all right.' + +Maciek led the cow to the shed; she looked about and whisked her tail +so heartily that Slimak could not take his eyes off her. + +'It's God's will,' he murmured. 'I'll bargain for her.' + +He crossed himself at the door, but his heart was trembling in +anticipation of all the difficulties. + +His guest was sitting by the fire and admonishing Magda in fatherly +fashion to be faithful and obedient to her master and mistress. + +'If they order you into the water--jump into the water; if they order +you into the fire--go into the fire; and if the mistress gives you a +good hiding, kiss her hand and thank her, for I tell you: sacred is the +hand that strikes....' + +As he said this the red light of the fire fell upon him; he had raised +his hand and looked like a preacher. + +Magda fancied that the trembling shadow on the wall was repeating: +'Sacred is the hand that strikes!' + +She wept copiously; she felt she was listening to a beautiful sermon, +but at the same time blue stripes seemed to be swelling on her back at +his words. Yet she listened without fear or regret, only with dim +gratitude, mingled with recollections of her childhood. + +The door opened and Slimak said: + +'The Lord be praised.' + +'In all eternity,' answered Grochowski. When he stood up, his head +nearly touched the ceiling. + +'May God repay you, Soltys, for coming to us,' said Slimak, shaking his +hand. + +'May God repay you for your kindness in receiving me.' + +'And say at once, should you be uncomfortable.' + +'Eh! I'm not half so comfortable at home, and it's not only to me but +also to the cow that you are giving hospitality.' + +'Praise God that you are satisfied.' + +'I am doubly satisfied, because I see how well you are treating Magda. +Magda! fall at your master's feet at once, for your father could not +treat you better. And you, neighbour, don't spare the strap.' + +'She's not a bad girl,' said Slimak. + +Sobbing heartily the girl fell first at her uncle's feet, then at the +gospodarz's, and then escaped into the passage. She hugged herself and +still emitted great sobs; but her eyes were dry. She began calling +softly in a mournful voice: 'Pig! pig! pig!' But the pigs had turned in +for the night. Instead Jendrek and Stasiek with the dog Burek emerged +from the twilight. Jendrek wanted to push her over, but she gave him a +punch in the eye. The boys seized her by the arms, Burek followed, and +shrieking and barking and inextricably entwined so that one could not +tell which was child and which was dog, all four melted into the mists +that were hanging over the meadows. + +Sitting by the stove, the two gospodarze were talking. + +'How is it you are getting rid of the cow?' + +'You see, it's like this. That cow is not mine, it belongs to Magda, +but my wife says she doesn't care about looking after somebody else's +cow, and the shed is too small for ours as it is. I don't pay much +attention to her usually, but it happens that there is a bit of land to +be sold adjoining Magda's. Komara, to whom it belonged, has drunk +himself to death. So I am thinking: I will sell the cow and buy the +girl another acre--land is land.' + +'That's true!' sighed Slimak. + +'And as there will be new servituty, the girl will get even more.' + +'How is that?' Slimak became interested. + +'They will give you twice as much as you possess; I possess twenty-five +acres, so I shall have fifty. How many have you got?' + +'Ten.' + +'Then you will have twenty, and Magda will get another two and a half +with her own.' + +'Is it certain about the servituty?' + +'Who can tell? some say it is, others laugh about it. But I am thinking +I will buy this land while there is the chance, especially as my wife +does not wish it.' + +'Then what is the good of buying the land if you will shortly get it +for nothing?' + +'The truth is, as it's not my money I don't care how I spend it. If I +were you I shouldn't be in a hurry to rent from the manor either; there +is no harm in waiting. The wise man is never in a hurry.' + +'No, the wise man goes slowly,' Slimak deliberated. + +The gospodyni appeared at that moment with Maciek. They went into the +alcove, drew two chairs and the cherrywood table into the middle of it, +covered it with a cloth and placed a petroleum lamp without a chimney +on it. + +'Come, Soltys,' called the gospodyni,' you will have supper more +comfortably in here.' + +Maciek, with a broad smile, retired awkwardly behind the stove as the +two gospodarze went into the alcove. + +'What a beautiful room,' said Grochowski, looking round, 'plenty of +holy pictures on the walls, a painted bed, a wooden floor and flowers +in the windows. That must be your doing, gospodyni?' + +'Why, yes,' said the woman, pleased, 'he is always at the manor or in +the town and doesn't care about his home; it was all I could do to make +him lay the floor. Be so kind as to sit near the stove, neighbour, I'll +get supper.' + +She poured out a large bowl of peeled barley soup and put it on the +table, and a small one for Maciek. + +'Eat in God's name, and if you want anything, say so.' + +'But are not you going to sit down?' + +'I always eat last with the children. Maciek, you may take your bowl.' + +Maciek, grinning, took his portion and sat down on a bench opposite the +alcove, so that he could see the Soltys and listen to human +intercourse, for which he was longing. He looked contentedly from +behind his steaming bowl at the table; the smoking lamp seemed to him +the most brilliant illumination, and the wooden chairs the height of +comfort. The sight of the Soltys, who was lolling back, filled him with +reverence. Was it not he who had driven him to the recruiting-office +when it was the time for the drawing of lots? who had ordered him to be +taken to the hospital and told him he would come out completely cured? +who collected the taxes and carried the largest banner at the +processions and intoned 'Let us praise the Holy Virgin'? And now he, +Maciek Owczarz, was sitting under one roof with this same Grochowski. + +How comfortable he made himself! Maciek tried to lean back in the same +fashion, but the scandalized wall pushed him forward, reminding him +that he was not the Soltys. So although his back ached, he bent still +lower and hid his feet in their torn boots under the bench. Why should +he be comfortable? It was enough if the master and the Soltys were. He +ate his soup and listened with both ears. + +'What makes you take the cow to Gryb?' asked the gospodyni. + +'Because he wants to buy her.' + +'We might buy her ourselves.' + +'Yes, that might be so,' put in Slimak; 'the girl is here, the cow +should be here too.' + +'That's right, isn't it, Maciek?' asked the woman. + +'Oho, ho!' laughed Maciek, till the soup ran out of his spoon. + +'What's true is true,' said Grochowski; 'even Gryb ought to understand +that the cow ought to be where the girl is.' + +'Then sell her to us,' Slimak said quickly. + +Grochowski dropped his spoon on the table and his head on his chest. He +reflected for a while, then he said in a tone of resignation: + +'There's no help for it; as you are quite, decided I must sell you the +cow.' + +'But you'll take off something for us, won't you?' hastily added the +woman in an ingratiating tone. + +The Soltys reflected once more. + +'You see, it's like this; if it were my cow I would come down. But she +belongs to a poor orphan. How could I harm her? Give me thirty-five +paper roubles and a silver rouble and the cow will be yours.' + +'That's too much,' sighed Slimak. + +'But she is worth it!' said the Soltys. + +'Still, money sits in the chest and doesn't eat.' + +'Neither will it give milk.' + +'I should have to rent the field.' + +'That will be cheaper than buying fodder.' + +A long silence ensued, then Slimak said: + +'Well, neighbour, say your last word.' + +'I tell you, thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble. Gryb will +be angry, but I'll do this for you.' + +The gospodyni now cleared the bowl off the table and returned with a +bottle of vodka, two glasses, and a smoked sausage on a plate. + +'To your health, neighbour,' said Slimak, pouring out the vodka. + +'Drink in God's name!' + +They emptied the glasses and began to chew the dry sausage in silence. +Maciek was so affected by the sight of the vodka that he folded his +hands on his stomach. It struck him that those two must be feeling very +happy, so he felt happy too. + +'I really don't know whether to buy the cow or not,' said Slimak; 'your +price has taken the wish from me.' + +Grochowski moved uneasily on his chair. + +'My dear friend,' he said, 'what am I to do? this is the orphan's +affair. I have got to buy her land, if for no other reason but because +it annoys my wife.' + +'You won't give thirty-five roubles for an acre.' + +'Land is getting dearer, because the Germans want to buy it.' + +'The Germans?' + +'Those who bought Wolka. They want other Germans to settle near here.' + +'There were two Germans near my field asking me a lot of questions. I +didn't know what they wanted.' + +'There you are! they creep in. Directly one has settled, others come +like ants after honey, and then the land gets dearer.' + +'Do they know anything about peasants' work?' + +'Rather! They make more profits than we who are born here. The Germans +are clever; they have a lot of cattle, sow clover and carry on a trade +in the winter. We can't compete with them.' + +'I wonder what their religion is like? They talk to each other like +Jews.' + +'Their religion is better than the Jews',' the Soltys said, after +reflecting; 'but what is not Catholic is nothing. They have churches +with benches and an organ; but their priests are married and go about +in overcoats, and where the blessed Host ought to be on the altar they +have a crucifix, like ours in the porch.' + +'That's not as good as our religion.' + +'Why!' said Grochowski, 'they don't even pray to the Blessed Mother.' + +The gospodyni crossed herself. + +'It's odd that the Merciful God should bless such people with +prosperity. Drink, neighbour!' + +'To your health! Why should God not bless them, when they have a lot of +cattle? That's at the bottom of all prosperity.' + +Slimak became pensive and suddenly struck his fist on the table. + +'Neighbour,' he cried, raising his voice, 'sell me the cow!' + +'I will sell her to you,' cried Grochowski, also striking the table. + +'I'll give you...thirty-one roubles...as I love you.' Grochowski +embraced him. + +'Brother...give me...thirty...and four paper roubles and a silver +rouble for the halter.' + +The tired children cautiously stole into the room; the gospodyni poured +out some soup for them and told them to sit in the corner and be quiet. +And quiet they were, except at one moment when Stasiek fell off the +bench and his mother slapped Jendrek for it. Maciek dozed, dreaming +that he was drinking vodka. He felt the liquor going to his head and +fancied himself sitting by the Soltys and embracing him. The fumes of +the vodka and the lamp were filling the room. Slimak and Grochowski +moved closer together. + +'Neighbour...Soltys,' said Slimak, striking the table again. 'I'll give +you whatever you wish, your word is worth more than money to me, for +you are the cleverest man in the parish. The Wojt is a pig...you are +more to me than the Wojt or even the Government Inspector, for you are +cleverer than they are...devil take me!' + +They fell on each other's shoulders and Grochowski wept. + +'Josef, brother,...don't call me Soltys but brother...for we are +brothers!' + +'Wojciek...Soltys...say how much you want for the cow. I'll give it +you, I'll rip myself open to give it you...thirty-five paper roubles +and a silver rouble.' + +'Oh dear, oh dear!' wailed the gospodyni. 'Weren't you letting the cow +go for thirty-three roubles just now, Soltys?' + +Grochowski raised his tearful eyes first to her, then to Slimak. + +'Was I?... Josef...brother...I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Take her! let the orphan starve, so long as you, my brother, +get a prime cow.' + +Slimate beat a tattoo on the table. + +'Am I to cheat the orphan? I won't; I'll give you thirty-five....' + +'What are you doing, you fool?' his wife interrupted him. + +'Yes, don't be foolish,' Grochowski supported her. 'You have +entertained me so finely that I'll give you the cow for thirty-three +roubles. Amen! that's my last word.' + +'I won't!' shouted Slimak. 'Am I a Jew that I should be paid for +hospitality?' + +'Josef!' his wife said warningly. + +'Go away, woman!' he cried, getting up with difficulty; 'I'll teach you +to mix yourself up in my affairs.' + +He suddenly fell into the embrace of the weeping Grochowski. + +'Thirty-five....' + +'Thirty-three...' sobbed the Soltys; 'may I not burn in hell!' + +'Josef,' his wife said, 'you must respect your guest; he is older than +you, and he is Soltys. Maciek, help me to get them into the barn.' + +'I'll go by myself,' roared Slimak. + +'Thirty-three roubles...' groaned Grochowski, 'chop me to bits, but I +won't take a grosz more.... I am a Judas.... I wanted to cheat you. I +said I was taking the cow to Gryb...but I was bringing her to you...for +you are my brother....' + +They linked arms and made for the window. Maciek opened the door into +the passage, and after several false starts they reached the courtyard. +The gospodyni took a lantern, rug and pillow, and followed them. When +she reached the yard she saw Grochowski kneeling and rubbing his eyes +with his sukmana and Slimak lying on the manure heap. Maciek was +standing over them. + +'We must do something with them,' he said to the gospodyni; 'they've +drunk a whole bottle of vodka.' + +'Get up, you drunkard,' she cried, 'or I'll pour water over your head.' + +'I'll pour it over you, I'll give you a whipping presently!' her +husband shouted back at her. + +Grochowski fell on his neck. + +'Don't make a hell of your house, brother, or grief will come to us +both.' + +Maciek could not wonder enough at the changes wrought in men by vodka. +Here was the Soltys, known in the whole parish as a hard man, crying +like a child, and Slimak shouting like the bailiff and disobeying his +wife. + +'Come to the barn, Soltys,' said Slimakowa, taking him by one arm while +Maciek took the other. He followed like a lamb, but while she was +preparing his bed on the straw, he fell upon the threshing-floor and +could not be moved by any manner of means. + +'Go to bed, Maciek,' said the gospodyni; 'let that drunkard lie on the +manure-heap, because he has been so disagreeable.' + +Maciek obeyed and went to the stable. When all was quiet, he began for +his amusement to pretend that he was drunk, and acted the part of +Slimak or the Soltys in turns. He talked in a tearful voice like +Grochowski: 'Don't make a hell of your house, brother...' and in order +to make it more real he tried to make himself cry. At first he did not +succeed, but when he remembered his foot, and that he was the most +miserable creature, and the gospodyni hadn't even given him a glass of +vodka, the tears ran freely from his eyes, until he too went to sleep. + +About midnight Slimak awoke, cold and wet, for it had begun to rain. +Gradually his aching head remembered the Soltys, the cow, the barley +soup and the large bottle of vodka. What had become of the vodka? He +was not quite certain on this point, but he was quite sure that the +soup had disagreed with him. + +'I always say you should not eat hot barley soup at night,' he groaned. + +He was no longer in doubt whether or no he was lying on the +manure-heap. Slowly he walked up to the cottage and hesitated on the +doorstep; but the rain began to fall more heavily. He stood still in +the passage and listened to Magda's snoring; then he cautiously opened +the door of the room. + +Stasiek lay on the bench under the window, breathing deeply. There was +no sound from the alcove, and he realized that his wife was not asleep. + +'Jagna, make room...' he tried to steady his voice, but he was seized +with fear. + +There was no answer. + +'Come...move up....' + +'Be off with you, you tippler, and don't come near me.' + +'Where am I to go?' + +'To the manure-heap or the pigsty, that's your proper place. You +threatened me with the whip! I'll take it out of you!' + +'What's the use of talking like that, when nothing is wrong?' said +Slimak, holding his aching head. + +'Nothing wrong? You insisted on paying thirty-five paper roubles and a +silver rouble when Grochowski was letting the cow go for thirty-three +roubles. Nothing wrong, indeed! do three roubles mean nothing to you?' + +Slimak crept to the bench where Stasiek lay and touched his feet. + +'Is that you, daddy?' the boy asked, waking up. + +'Yes, it's I.' + +'What are you doing here?' + +'I'm just sitting down; something is worrying me inside.' + +The boy put his arms round his neck. + +'I'm so glad you have come,' he said; 'those two Germans keep coming +after me.' + +'What Germans?' + +'Those two by our field, the old one and the man with the beard. They +don't say what they want, but they are walking on me.' + +'Go to sleep, child; there are no Germans here.' + +Stasiek pressed closer to him and began to chatter again: + +'Isn't it true, daddy, that the water can see?' + +'What should it see?' + +'Everything--everything--the sky, the hills; it sees us when we follow +the harrows.' + +'Go to sleep. Don't talk nonsense.' + +'It does, it does, daddy, I've watched it myself,' he whispered, going +to sleep. + +The room was too hot for Slimak; he dragged himself up and staggered to +the barn, where he fell into a bundle of straw. + +'But what I gave for the cow I gave for her,' he muttered in the +direction of the sleeping Grochowski. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Slimakowa came to the barn early the next morning and called her +husband. 'Are you going to be long idling there?' + +'What's the matter?' + +'It's time to go to the manor-house.' + +'Have they sent for me?' + +'Why should they send for you? You have got to go to them and see about +the field.' + +Slimak groaned, but came out on to the threshing-floor. His face was +bloated, he looked ashamed of himself, and his hair was full of straw. + +'Just look at him,' jeered his wife: 'his sukmana is dirty and wet, he +hasn't taken off his boots all night, and he scowls like a brigand. You +are more fit for a scarecrow in a flaxfield than for talking to the +squire. Change your clothes and go.' + +She returned to the cowshed, and a weight fell off Slimak's mind that +the matter had ended there. He had expected to be jeered at till the +afternoon. He came out into the yard and looked round. The sun was +high, the ground had dried after the rain; the wind from the ravines +brought the song of birds and a damp, cheerful smell; the fields had +become green during the night. The sky looked as if it had been +freshened up, and the cottage seemed whiter. + +'A nice day,' he murmured, gaining courage, and went indoors to dress. +He pulled the straw out of his hair and put on a clean shirt and new +boots. He thought they did not look polished enough, so he took a piece +of tallow and rubbed it well first over his hair, then over his boots. +Then he stood in front of the glass and smiled contentedly at the +brilliance he rejected from head to foot. + +His wife came in at that moment and looked disdainfully at him. + +'What have you been doing to your head? You stink of tallow miles off. +You'd better comb your hair.' + +Slimak, silently acknowledging the justice of the remark, took a thick +comb from behind the looking-glass and smoothed his hair till it looked +like polished glass, then he applied the soap to his neck so +energetically that his fingers left large, dark streaks. + +'Where is Grochowski?' he asked in a more cheerful voice, for the cold +water had added to his good temper. + +'He has gone.' + +'What about the money?' + +'I paid him, but he wouldn't take the thirty-three roubles; he said +that Jesus Christ had lived in this world for thirty-three years, so it +would not be right for him to take as much as that for the cow.' + +'Very proper,' Slimak agreed, wishing to impress her with his +theological knowledge, but she turned to the stove and took off a pot +of hot barley soup. Offering it to him with an air of indifference: +'Don't talk so much,' she said. 'Put something hot inside you and go to +the manor-house. But just try and bargain as you did with the Soltys +and I shall have something to say to you.' + +He sat humbly, eating his soup, and his wife took some money from the +chest. 'Take these ten roubles,' she said, 'give them to the squire +himself and promise to bring the rest to-morrow. But mind what he asks +for the field, and kiss his hands, and embrace his and the lady's feet +so that he may let you off at least three roubles. Will you remember?' + +'Why shouldn't I remember?' + +He was obviously repeating his wife's admonitions, for he suddenly +stopped eating and tapped the table rhythmically with the spoon. + +'Well, then, don't sit there and think, but put on your sukmana and go. +And take the boys with you.' + +'What for?' + +'What for? They are to support you when you ask the squire, and Jendrek +will tell me how you have bargained. Now do you know what for?' + +'Women are a pest!' growled Slimak, when she had unfolded her carefully +laid plans. 'Curse her, how she lords it over me! You can see that her +father was a bailiff.' + +He struggled into his sukmana, which was brand new and beautifully +embroidered at the collar and pockets with coloured thread; put on a +broad leather belt, tied the ten roubles up in a rag and slipped them +into his sukmana. The children had long been ready, and at last they +started. + +They had no sooner gone than loneliness began to fill Slimakowa's +heart. She went outside the gate and watched them; her husband, with +his hands in his pockets, was strolling along the road, Jendrek on his +right and Stasiek on his left. Presently Jendrek boxed Stasiek's ears +and as a result he was walking on the left and Stasiek on the right. +Then Slimak boxed both their ears, after which they were both walking +on the left, Jendrek in the ditch, so that he could threaten his +brother with his fist. + +'Bless them, they always find some nice amusement for themselves,' she +whispered, smiling, and went back to put on the dinner. + +Having settled the misunderstanding between his sons, Slimak sang +softly to himself: + + 'Your love is no courtier, + my own heart's desire, + He's riding a pony on his way to the squire.' + +Then in a more melancholy strain: + + 'Oh dearie, dearie me + This is great misery, + What shall I do?...' + +He sighed, and felt that no song could adequately express his anxiety. +Would the squire let him have the field? They were just passing it; he +was almost afraid to look at it, so beautiful and unattainable did it +seem. All the fines he had had to pay for his cattle, all the squire's +threats and admonitions came into his mind. It struck him that if the +field lay farther off and produced sand instead of good grass, he would +have a better chance. + +'Eh, I don't care!' he cried, throwing up his head with an air of +indifference; 'they've often asked me to take it.' + +That was so, but it had been at times when he had not wanted it; now +that he did, they would bargain hard, or not let him have it at all. +Who could tell why that should be so? It was a law of nature that +landlords and peasants were always at cross purposes. + +He remembered how often he had charged too much for work done, or how +often the gospodarze had refused to come to terms with the squire about +rights of grazing or wood-gathering in the forests, and he felt +contrite. Good Lord! how beautifully the squire had spoken to them: +'Let us help each other and live peaceably like good neighbours.' + +And they had answered: 'What's the good of being neighbours? A nobleman +is a nobleman and a peasant is a peasant. We should prefer peasants for +neighbours and you would prefer noblemen.' Then the squire had cited: +'Remember, the runaway goat came back to the cart and said, "Put me +in." But I shall say you nay.' And Gryb, in the name of them all, had +answered: 'The goat will come, your honour, when you throw your forests +open.' + +The squire had said nothing, but his trembling moustaches had warned +them that he would not forget that answer. + +'I always told Gryb not to talk with a long tongue,' Slimak sighed. +'Now it is I who will have to suffer for his impudence.' + +A new idea came into his head. Why should he not pay for the field in +work instead of cash? The Squire might accept it, for he wasn't half a +bad gentleman. It was true, the other gospodarze looked down upon him, +because he was the only one who hired himself out for work; but +whatever happened, the squire would always be the squire, and they the +gospodarze. He hummed again, but under his breath, so that the boys +should not hear him: + + 'The cuckoo cuckooed in the forest, + Say the neighbours, I am the dullest.' + +Suddenly he turned upon Stasiek, and wanted to know why he was dragging +along as if he were being taken to jail, and didn't talk. + +'I...I am wondering why we are going to the manor?' + +'Don't you want to go?' + +'No; I am afraid.' + +'What is there to be afraid of?' snapped Slimak, but he himself was +shivering. + +'You see, my boy,' he continued, more kindly, 'we have bought the new +cow from the Soltys and we shall want more hay, so I am going to ask +the squire to let me rent the field.' + +'I see....But, daddy, I am always wondering what the grass thinks when +the cows chew it up.' + +'What should it think? It doesn't think at all.' + +'But, daddy, why shouldn't it think? When people are standing round the +church in a crowd, they look like grass from a distance, all red and +yellow, like flowers in a field. If some horrible cow came and lapped +them up with her tongue, wouldn't they be able to think?' + +'People would scream, but the grass says nothing.' + +'It does say something! A dry stick cracks when you tread on it, and a +fresh branch cries and clings to the tree when you tear it off, and the +grass squeaks and holds on with its feet,...and...' + +'Oh! you are always saying queer things,' interrupted his father; 'and +you, Jendrek, are you glad that we are going to the manor-house?' + +'Is it I who is going or you?' said Jendrek, shrugging his shoulders. +'I shouldn't go.' + +'Well, what would you do?' + +'I should take the hay and stack it in the yard; then let them come!' + +'You would dare to cut the squire's hay?' + +'How is it his? Has he sown the grass? or is the field near his house?' + +'Don't you see, silly, that the meadow is his just as well as his other +fields?' + +'They are his, so long as no one takes them. Our land and our house +were his once, now they are yours. Why should he be better off than we +are? He does nothing, yet he has enough land for a hundred peasants.' + +'He has it because he has it, because he is a gentleman.' + +'Pooh! If you wore a coat, and your trousers outside your boots, you +would be a gentleman; but for all that you wouldn't have the land.' + +'You are stupid,' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I know I am stupid, that is because I can't read or write, but Jasiek +Gryb can, and therefore he is clever, and he says there must be +equality, and there will be when the peasants have taken the land from +the nobility.' + +'Jasiek had better leave off taking money from his father's chest +before he disposes of other people's property! He might give mine to +Maciek and take the squire's for himself, but he would never give his +own away. Let it be as God has ordered.' + +'Did God give the land to the squire?' + +'God has ordered that there should not be equality in the world. A pine +is tall, a hazel is low, the grass is still lower. Look at sensible +dogs. When a pail of dish-water is brought out to them, the strongest +drinks first, and the others stand by and lick their lips, although +they know that he will take the best part; then they all take their +turn. If they start quarrelling, they upset the pail and the strong get +the better of the weak. + +If people were to say to each other: Disgorge what you have swallowed, +the strong would drive off the weak and leave them to starve.' + +'But if God has given the land to the squire, how can they begin to +distribute it to the people now?' + +'They distribute it so that every one should get what is right for him, +not that he should take what he likes.' + +His son's amazing views added a new worry to Slimak's mind. + +'The rascal! listening to people of that sort! he'll never make a +peasant; it's a mercy he hasn't stolen yet.' + +They were nearing the drive to the manor-house, and Slimak was walking +more and more slowly; Stasiek looked more and more frightened, Jendrek +alone kept his saucy air. + +Through the dark branches of old lime-trees the roof and chimneys of +the manor became visible. Suddenly two shots rang out. + +'They are shooting!' cried Jendrek excitedly, and ran forward. Stasiek +caught hold of his father's pocket. Slimak called Jendrek, who returned +sulkily. They were now on the terrace, where the manor-fields stretched +on either side. Lower down lay the village, still lower the field by +the river, in front of them was the manor, with the outbuildings, +enclosed by a railing. + +'There! that's the manor-house,' said Slimak to Stasiek. 'Isn't it +beautiful?' + +'Which one is it?' + +'Why! the one with pillars in front.' + +Another shot rang out, and they saw a man in fanciful sportsman's +dress. + +'The horseman of yesterday,' cried Jendrek. + +'Ah, that freak!' said Slimak, scrutinizing him with his head on one +side; 'he'll bring me bad luck about the field.' + +'He has a splendid gun,' cried Jendrek; 'but what is he shooting? +There's nothing but sparrows here.' + +'Perhaps he is shooting at us?' suggested Stasiek timidly. + +'Why should he be shooting at us?' his father reassured him; 'shooting +at people isn't allowed. It's true there is no knowing what a lunatic +might do.' + +The sportsman approached, loading his gun; the tattered remains of some +sparrows hung from his bag. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak, taking off his cap. + +'How do you do, citizen?' replied the sportsman, touching his jockey +cap. + +'What a lovely gun!' sighed Jendrek. + +'Do you like it? Eh, wasn't it you who picked up my cap the other day? +I am in your debt; here you are.' He handed Jendrek a twenty-kopek +piece. 'Is that your father? Citizen, if you want to be friends with +me, do not bow so low, and cover your head. It is time that these +survivals of servitude should be forgotten; they can only do us both +harm. Cover yourself, I beg you.' + +Slimak tried to do as he was told, but his hand refused obedience. + +'I feel awkward, sir, standing before you with my cap on,' he said. + +'Oh, hang hereditary social differences!' exclaimed the young man, +snatching the cap from Slimak's hands and putting it on his head. + +'Hang it all!' thought the peasant, unable to follow the democrat's +intentions. + +'What are you going to the manor for?' asked the latter. 'Have you come +on business with my brother-in-law?' + +'We want to beg a favour of the squire'--Slimak refrained with +difficulty from bowing again--'that he should let us rent the field +close to my property.' + +'What for?' + +'We've bought a new cow.' + +'How much cattle have you?' + +'The Lord Jesus possesses five tails in my gospodarstwo, two horses and +three cows, not counting the pigs.' + +'And have you much land?' + +'I wish to God I had, but I have only ten acres, and those are growing +more sterile every year.' + +'That's because you don't understand agriculture. Ten acres is a large +property; in other countries several families live comfortably on that; +here it is not enough for one. But what can you expect if you sow +nothing but rye?' + +'What else should I sow, sir? Wheat doesn't do very well.' + +'Vegetables, my friend, that does the trick! The market gardeners near +Warsaw pay thirty or forty roubles an acre rent and do excellently +well.' + +Slimak hung his head. He was much perturbed, for he had arrived at the +conclusion that the squire would not let him have the field, because he +had so much land already, or that he would ask him thirty or forty +roubles' rent. What other object could the young gentleman possibly +have for saying, such strange things? + +They were approaching the entrance to the garden. + +'I see my sister is in the garden; my brother-in-law is sure to be +about too. I will go and tell him of your business.' + +Slimak bowed low, but inwardly he thought: 'May the pestilence take +him! He is impertinent to my wife, stirs up the boy, and puts my cap on +my head; but he wants to squeeze money out of me, all the same. I knew +he would bring me bad luck.' + +Sounds of an American organ which the squire was playing came from the +house. + +'Daddy, daddy, they are playing!' cried Stasiek in great excitement; he +was flushed, and trembled with emotion, even Jendrek was affected. +Slimak took off his cap and said a prayer for deliverance from the evil +spell of the young gentleman. + +When the organ stopped, they watched this same young gentleman talking +to his sister in the garden. + +'Look at the lady, dad,' said Jendrek; 'she is just like a horsefly, +yellow with black spots, and thin in the waist and fat at the end.' + +The democrat was putting Slimak's case before his sister, and +complained of the signs of servility with which he met at every turn. +He said they spoilt his temper. + +'But what can I do?' said the lady. + +'Go up to them and give them courage.' + +'I like that!' she said. 'I arranged a treat for our farm-labourers' +children to encourage them, and next day they plundered my peach trees. +Go to them? I've done that too. I once went into a cottage where a +child was ill, and my clothes smelt so strongly that I had to give them +to my maid. No, thank you!' + +'All the same, I beg you to do something for these people.' + +Their conversation had been in French while they were approaching the +railings. + +'Oh, it's Slimak.' The lady raised her glasses. 'Well, my good man, my +brother wants me to do something for you. Have you got a daughter?' + +'I haven't, my lady,' said Slimak, kissing the hem of her dress. + +'That's a pity, I might have taught her to do beadwork. Perhaps I could +teach the boys to read?' + +'They are wanted at home, my lady; the elder one is useful already, and +the younger one looks after the pigs in the fields.' + +'Do something for them yourself,' she said to her brother in French. + +'What are they plotting against me?' thought Slimak. + +The squire now came out and joined the group. Slimak began bowing +again, Stasiek's eyes filled with tears, even Jendrek lost his +self-assurance. The conversation reverted into French, and the democrat +warmly supported Slimak's cause. + +'All right, I'll let him have the field,' said the squire; 'then there +will be an end to the trespassing; besides, he is the most honest man +in the village.' + +When Slimak's suspense had become so acute that he had thoughts of +returning home without having settled the business, the squire said: + +'So you want me to let you have the field by the river?' + +'If you will be so kind, sir.' + +'And if you will kindly take off three roubles,' + +Jendrek added quickly. Slimak's blood ran cold; the squire exchanged +glances with his wife. + +'What does that mean?' he asked. 'From what am I to take off three +roubles?' + +Involuntarily Slimak's hand reached for his belt, but he recollected +himself; he made up his mind in despair to tell the truth. + +'If you please, sir, don't take any notice of that puppy; my wife has +been at me for not bargaining well, and she told me to get you to take +three roubles off the rent, and now this young scoundrel puts me to +shame.' + +'Mother told me to look after you.' + +Slimak became absolutely tongue-tied, and the party on the other side +of the railing were convulsed with laughter. + +'Look,' said the squire in French, 'that is the peasant all over. He +won't allow you to speak a word to his wife, but he can't do anything +without her, and doesn't understand any business whatsoever without her +explanations.' + +'Lovely!' laughed his wife, 'now, if you did as I tell you, we should +have left this dull place long ago and gone to Warsaw.' + +'Don't make the peasant out to be an idiot,' remonstrated his +brother-in-law. + +'No need for me to do that; he _is_ an idiot. Our peasants are all +muscle and stomach; they leave reason and energy to their wives. Slimak +is one of the most intelligent, yet I will bet you anything that I can +immediately give you a proof of his being a donkey. Josef,' he said, +turning to Slimak, 'your wife told you to drive a good bargain?' + +'Certainly, sir, what is true is true.' + +'Do you know what Lukasiak pays me yearly?' + +'They say ten roubles.' + +'Then you ought to pay twenty roubles for the two acres.' + +'If you will be lenient, sir,' began Slimak. + +'... and let me off three roubles,' completed the squire. Slimak looked +confused. + +'Very good, I will let you off three roubles; you shall pay me +seventeen roubles yearly. Are you satisfied!' + +Slimak bowed to the ground and thought: 'What is he up to? He is not +bargaining!' + +'Now, Slimak,' continued the squire, 'I will make you another proposal. +Do you know what Gryb paid me for the two acres he bought?' + +'Seventy roubles.' + +'Just so, and he paid for the surveyor and the lawyer. I will sell you +those two acres for sixty roubles and let you off all expenses, so you +would gain a clear twenty roubles against Gryb's bargain, But I make +one condition, you must decide at once and without consulting your +wife; to-morrow my conditions wouldn't be the same.' + +Slimak's eyes blazed; he fancied he saw quite clearly now that there +was a conspiracy against him. + +'That's not a handsome thing to offer, sir,' he said, with a forced +smile; 'you yourself consult with the lady and the young gentleman.' +'There you are! Isn't he a finished idiot?' + +His brother-in-law tapped Slimak on the shoulder. 'Agree to it, my +friend; you'll have the best of the bargain. Of course he agrees,' he +said, turning to the squire. + +'Well, Josef, will you buy it? Do you agree to my conditions?' + +'I'm not such a fool,' thought Slimak, and aloud: 'It wouldn't be fair +to buy it without my wife.' + +'Very well, I'll let it to you. Give me your earnest-money and come for +the receipt to-morrow. There you have the peasant, my democrat!' + +Slimak paid the ten roubles and glared at the retreating party. + +'Ah! you'd like to cheat a peasant, but he has got too much sense! It's +true, then, what Grochowski said about the land-distribution. Sixty +roubles for a field worth seventy, indeed!' + +All the same he could not quite get rid of the thought that it might +have been a straightforward offer. He felt hot all over and wanted to +shout or run after the squire. At that moment the young man hastily +turned back. + +'Buy that field,' he said, quite out of breath; 'my brother-in-law +would still consent if you asked him.' + +In an instant Slimak's distrust returned. + +'No, sir; it wouldn't be fair.' + +'Cattle!' murmured the democrat, and turned his back. The bargain had +disappeared. + +'Let's go home, boys,' and under his breath: 'Damn the aristocracy!' +When they were nearing their home, the boys ran on ahead, for they were +hungry. + +'What is this Jendrek tells me? They wanted to sell you the land for +sixty roubles?' + +'That is so,' he replied, rather frightened; 'they are afraid of the +new land-distributions. They are clever too! They knew all about my +business beforehand, and the squire had set his brother-in-law on to +me.' + +'What! that fellow who spoke to me by the river?' + +'That same fool. He gave Jendrek twenty kopeks and put my cap on my +head, and he told me ten acres was a fortune.' + +'A fortune? His brother-in-law has a thousand and says he hasn't +enough! You did quite right not to buy the field; there is something +shady about that business.' + +But his wife's satisfaction did not completely reassure Slimak; he was +wretchedly in doubt. His dinner gave him no pleasure, and he strolled +about the house without knowing what to do. When his irritation had +reached its climax, a happy thought struck him. + +'Come here, Jendrek,' he said, unbuckling his belt. + +'Oh, daddy, don't,' wailed the boy, although he had been prepared for +the last two hours. + +'You won't escape it this time; lie down on the bench. You've been +laughing at the young gentleman and even making fun of the squire.' + +Stasiek, in tears, embraced his father's knees, Magda ran out of the +room, Jendrek howled. + +'I tell you, lie down! I'll teach you to run about with that scoundrel +of a Jasiek!' + +At that moment Slimakowa tapped at the window. 'Josef, come quick, +something has happened to the new cow, she's staggering.' + +Slimak let go of Jendrek and ran to the cowshed. The three cows were +standing quietly chewing the cud. + +'It has passed off,' said the woman; 'but I tell you a minute ago she +was staggering worse than you did yesterday.' + +He examined the cow carefully, but could find nothing wrong with her. + +Jendrek had meanwhile slipped away, his father's temper had cooled, and +the matter ended as usual on these occasions. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +It was the height of summer. The squire and his wife had gone away, and +the villagers had forgotten all about them. New wool had begun to grow +on the shorn sheep. + +The sun was so hot that the clouds fled from the sky into the woods, +and the ground protected itself with what it could find; with dust on +the highroads, grass in the meadows, and heavy crops in the fields. + +But human beings had to toil their hardest at this time. At the manor +they were cutting clover and hoeing turnips; in the cottages the women +were piling up the potatoes, while the old women were gathering mallows +for cooling drinks and lime-blossoms against the ague. The priest spent +all his days tracking and taking swarms of bees; Josel, the innkeeper, +was making vinegar. The woods resounded with the voices of children +picking berries. + +The corn was getting ripe, and Slimak began to cut the rye the day +after the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. He was in a hurry to +get the work done in two or three days, lest the corn should drop out +in the great heat, and also because he wanted to help with the +harvesting at the manor. + +Usually he, Maciek, and Jendrek worked together, alternately cutting +and binding the sheaves. Slimakowa and Magda helped in the early +morning and in the afternoon. + +On the first day, while the five were working together, and had reached +the top of the hill, Magda noticed some men showing against the dark +background of the wood, and drew Slimakowa's attention to them. They +all stopped work and looked. + +'They must be peasants,' Maciek said; 'they are wearing white smocks.' + +'They do not walk like peasants,' said Slimakowa. + +'But they are wearing boots up to their knees,' said Slimak. + +'Look! they are carrying poles,' Jendrek cried; 'and they are dragging +a rope after them.' + +'Ah, they must be surveyors. What can they be after?' reflected Slimak. + +'Surely, they are taking a fresh survey; now, Josef, aren't you glad +you did not buy that land?' asked his wife. They took up their work +again, but did not get on very fast, for they could not resist throwing +sidelong glances at the approaching men. It was now quite plain that +they were not peasants, for they wore white coats and had black ribbons +on their hats. Slimak's attention became so absorbed that he lagged +behind, in the place which Magda usually occupied, instead of being at +the head of the party. At last he cried: + +'Jendrek, stop cutting; run and find out what they are doing, and if +they are really measuring for a new land-distribution.' + +Jendrek was off in a moment, and had soon reached the men. He forgot to +come back. The little party watched him talk to the men for a few +moments, and then becoming busy with the poles. + +'I say!' cried Slimakowa, 'he is quite one of the party! Just look, how +he is running along with the line, as if he had never done anything +else in his life. He has never seen a book except in the Jew's shop +window, and yet he can run better than any of them. I wish I had told +him to put on his boots; they will never take him for the son of a +gospodarz.' + +She watched Jendrek with great pride until the party disappeared behind +the line of the hill. + +'Something will come of this,' said Slimak, 'either good or bad.' + +'Why should it be bad?' asked his wife; 'they may add to our land; what +do you think, Maciek?' + +The farm labourer looked embarrassed when he was asked for his opinion, +and pondered until the perspiration flowed from his head. + +'Why should it be good?' he said at last. 'When I was working for the +squire at Krzeszowie, and he went bankrupt, just such men as these came +and measured the land, and soon afterwards we had to pay a new tax. No +good ever comes of anything new.' + +Jendrek returned towards sunset, quite out of breath. He called out to +his mother that the gentlemen wanted some milk, and had given him +twenty kopeks. + +'Give them to your mother at once,' said Slimak; 'they are not for you, +but for the milk.' + +Jendrek was almost in tears. 'Why should I give up my money? They say +they will pay for everything they have, and even want to buy butter and +fowls.' + +'Are they traders?' + +'Oh no, they are great gentlemen, and live in a tent and keep a cook.' + +'Gipsies, I dare say!' + +Slimakowa had run off at top speed, and now the men appeared, +perspiring, sunburnt, and dusty; nevertheless, they impressed Slimak +and Maciek so much with their grand manner that they took off their +caps. + +'Which of you is the gospodarz?' + +'I am.' + +'How long have you lived here?' + +'From my childhood.' + +'And have you ever seen the river in flood?' + +'I should think I had!' + +'Do you remember how high the water rises?' + +'Sometimes it overflows on to that meadow deep enough to drown a man.' + +'Are you quite sure of that?' + +'Everybody knows that. Those gaps in the hill have been scooped out by +the water.' + +'The bridge will have to be sixty feet high.' + +'Certainly,' said the elder of the two men. 'Can you let us have some +milk, gospodarz?' + +'My wife is getting it ready, if it pleases the gentlemen to come.' + +The whole party turned towards the cottage, for the drinking of milk by +such distinguished gentlemen was an important event; it was decided to +stop harvesting for the day. + +Chairs and the cherrywood table had been placed in front of the +cottage. A rye loaf, butter, white cheese with caraway seeds, and a +bowl of buttermilk were in readiness. + +'Well,' said the men, looking at each other in surprise, 'a nobleman +could not have received us better.' + +They ate heartily, praised everything, and finally asked Slimakowa what +they owed her. + +'May it be to the gentlemen's health!' + +'But we cannot fleece you like this, gospodyni.' + +'We don't take money for hospitality. Besides, you have already given +my boy as much as if he had been harvesting a whole day.' + +'There!' whispered the younger man to the elder, 'isn't that like +Polish peasants?' + +To Slimak they said: 'After such a reception we will promise to build +the station quite near to you.' + +'I don't know what you mean?' + +'We are going to build a railway.' + +Slimak scratched his head. + +'What makes you so doubtful?' asked the men. + +'I'm thinking that this will turn out badly for us,' Slimak replied; 'I +shan't earn anything by driving.' + +The men laughed. 'Don't be afraid, my friend, it will be a very good +thing for everybody, especially for you, as you will be near the +station. And first of all you will sell us your produce and drive us. +Let us begin at once, what do you want for your fowls?' + +'I leave it to you, sir.' + +'Twenty-five kopeks, then.' + +Slimakowa looked at her husband. This was double the amount they had +usually taken. 'You can have them, sir,' she cried. + +'That scoundrel of a Jew charged us fifty,' murmured the younger man. + +They agreed to buy butter, cheese, crayfish, cucumber, and bread; the +younger man expressing surprise at the cheapness of everything, and the +elder boasting that he always knew how to drive a good bargain. When +they left, they paid Slimakowa sixteen paper roubles and half a silver +rouble, asking her if she was sure that she was not cheating herself. + +'God forbid,' she replied. 'I wish I could sell every day at that +price.' + +'You will, when we have built the railway.' + +'May God bless you!' She made the sign of the cross over them, the farm +labourer knelt down, and Slimak took off his cap. They all accompanied +their guests as far as the ravines. + +When they returned, Slimak set everyone to work in feverish haste. + +'Jagna, get the butter ready; Maciek and Jendrek, go to the river for +the crayfish; Magda, take three score of the finest cucumbers, and +throw in an extra ten. Jesus Mary! Have we ever done business like +this! You will have to buy yourself a new silk kerchief, and a new +shirt for Jendrek.' + +'Our luck has come,' said Slimakowa, 'and I must certainly buy a silk +kerchief, or else no one in the village will believe that we have made +so much money.' + +'I don't quite like it that the new carriages will go without horses,' +said Slimak; 'but that can't be helped.' + +When they took their produce to the engineers' encampment, they +received fresh orders, for there were more than a dozen men, who made +him their general purveyor. Slimak went round to the neighbouring +cottages and bought what he needed, making a penny profit on every +penny he spent, while his customers praised the cheapness of the +produce. After a week the party moved further off, and Slimak found +himself in possession of twenty-five roubles that seemed to have fallen +from the sky, not counting what he had earned for the hire of his +horses and cart, and payment for the days of labour he had lost. But +somehow the money made him feel ashamed. + +'Do you know, Jagna,' he said, 'perhaps we ought to go after the +gentlemen and give them back their money.' + +'Oh nonsense!' cried the woman, 'trading is always like that. What did +the Jew charge for the chickens? just double your price.' + +'But it is the Jew's trade, and besides, he isn't a Christian.' + +'Therefore he makes the greater profits. Come, Josef, the gentlemen did +not pay for the things only, but for the trouble you took.' + +This, and the thought that everybody who came from Warsaw obviously had +much money to spend, reassured the peasant. + +As he and the rest of the family were so much occupied with their new +duties, all the harvesting fell to Maciek's share. He had to go to the +hill from early dawn till late at night, and cut, bind, and shock the +sheaves single-handed. But in spite of his industry the work took +longer than usual, and Slimak hired old Sobieska to help him. She came +at six o'clock, armed with a bottle of 'remedy' for a wound in the leg, +did the work of two while she sang songs which made even Maciek blush, +until the afternoon, and then took her 'remedy'. The cure then pulled +her down so much that the scythe fell from her hand. + +'Hey, gospodarz!' she would shout. 'You are raking in the money and +buying your wife silk handkerchiefs, but the poor farm labourers have +to creep on all fours. It's "Cut the corn, Sobieska and Maciek, and I +will brag about like a gentleman!" You will see, he will soon call +himself "Pan Slimaczinski."[1] He is the devil's own son, for ever and +ever. Amen.' + +[Footnote 1: The ending _ski_ denotes nobility.] + +She would fall into a furrow and sleep until sundown, though she was +paid for a full day's work. As she had a sharp tongue, Slimak had no +wish to offend her. When he haggled about the money, she would kiss his +hand and say: 'Why should you fall out with me, sir? Sell one chicken +more and you'll be all right.' + +'Cheek always pays!' thought Maciek. + +On the following Sunday, when everyone was ready to go to church, +Maciek sat down and sighed heavily. + +'Why, Maciek, aren't you going to church?' asked Slimak, seeing that +something was amiss. + +'How can I go to church? You would be ashamed of me.' + +'What's the matter with you?' + +'Nothing is the matter with me, but my feet keep coming through my +boots.' + +'That's your own fault, why didn't you speak before? Your wages are +due, and I will give you six roubles.' + +Maciek embraced his feet.... + +'But mind you buy the boots, and don't drink away the money.' + +They all started; Slimak walked with his wife, Magda with the boys, and +Maciek by himself at a little distance. He dreamt that Slimak would +become a gentleman when the railway was finished, and that he, Maciek, +would then wait at table, and perhaps get married. Then he crossed +himself for having such reckless ideas. How could a poor fellow like +him think of marrying? Who would have him? Probably not even Zoska, +although she was wrong in the head and had a child. + +This was a memorable Sunday for Slimak and his wife. She had bought a +silk kerchief at a stall, given twenty kopeks to the beggars, and sat +down in the front pew, where Grybina and Lukasiakowa had at once made +room for her. As for Slimak, everyone had something to say to him. The +publican reproached him for spoiling the prices for the Jews, the +organist reminded him that it would be well to pay for an extra Mass +for the souls of the departed, even the policeman saluted him, and the +priest urged him to keep bees: 'You might come round to the Vicarage, +now that you have money and spare time, and perhaps buy a few hives. It +does no harm to remember God in one's prosperity and keep bees and give +wax to the Church.' + +Gryb came up with an unpleasant smile. 'Surely, Slimak, you will treat +everybody all round to-day, since you've been so successful?' + +'You don't treat the village when you have made a good bargain, neither +shall I,' Slimak snubbed him. + +'That's not surprising, since I don't make as much profit on a cow as +you make on a chicken.' + +'All the same, you're richer than other people.' + +'There you're right,' Wisniewski supported Slimak, asking him for the +loan of a couple of roubles at the same time. But when Slimak refused, +he complained of his arrogance. + +Maciek did not get much comfort out of the money given him for boots. +He stood humbly at the back of the church, so that the Lord should not +see his torn sukmana. Then the beggars reminded him that he never gave +them anything. He went to the public-house to get change. + +'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican. + +'What money?' + +'Have you forgotten? You owe me two roubles since Christmas' + +Maciek swore at him. 'Everybody knows that one can only get a drink +from you for cash.' + +'That's true on the whole. But when you were tipsy at Christmas, you +embraced and kissed me so many times, I couldn't help myself and gave +you credit.' + +'Have you got witnesses?' Maciek said sharply. 'I tell you, old Jew, +you won't take me in.' + +The publican reflected for a moment. + +'I have no witnesses,' he said, 'therefore I will never mention the +matter to you again. Since you swear to me here in the presence of +other people, that you did not kiss me and beg for credit, I make you a +present of your debt, but it's a shame,' the publican added, spitting, +'that a man working for such a respectable gospodarz as Slimak, should +cheat a poor Jew. Don't ever set foot in my inn again!' + +The labourer hesitated. Did he really owe that money? + +'Well,' he said, 'since you say I owe you the money, I will give it +you. But take care God does not punish you if you are wronging me.' In +his heart, however, he doubted whether God would ever punish any one on +account of such a low creature as he was. + +He was just leaving the inn sadly, when a band of Galician harvesters +came in. They sat down at the table, discussing the profits that would +be made from the building of the new railway. + +Maciek went up to them, and seeing that their appearance was not much +less ragged than his own, he asked if it was true that there were +railroads[1] in the world? 'No one,' he said,'would have iron enough to +cover roads, not even the government.' The labourers laughed, but one, +a huge fellow with a soldier's cap, said: 'What is there to laugh at? +Of course a clodhopper does not know what a railway is. Sit down, +brother, and I'll tell you all about it, but let's have a bottle of +vodka.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish word for 'railway' is 'iron road'.] + +Before Maciek had decided, the publican had brought the vodka. + +'Why shouldn't he have vodka?' he said, 'he is a good-natured fellow, +he has stood treat before.' + +What happened afterwards, Maciek did not clearly remember. He thought +that some one told him how fast an engine goes, and that some one else +shouted, he ought to buy boots. Later on he was seized by his arms and +legs and carried to the stable. One thing was certain, he returned +without a penny. Slimakowa would not look at him, and Slimak said: 'You +are hopeless, Maciek, you'll never get on, for the devil always leads +you into bad company.' + +So it happened that Maciek went without new boots, but a few weeks +later he acquired a possession he had never dreamt of. + +It was a rainy September evening; the more the day declined, the +heavier became the layers of clouds. Lower and lower they descended, +torn and gloomy. Forest, hill, and valley, even the fence dissolved +gradually into the grey veil. The heavy, persistent rain penetrated +everything; the ground was full of it, soaked through like kneaded +dough; the road was full of it, running with yellow streams; the yard, +where it stood in large puddles, was full of it. Roofs and walls were +dripping, the animals' skins and even human souls were saturated with +it. + +Everybody in the gospodarstwo was thinking vaguely of supper, but no +one was in the mood for it. The gospodarz yawned, the gospodyni was +cross, the boys were sleepy, Magda did even less than usual. They +looked at the fire, where the potatoes were slowly boiling, at the +door, to watch Maciek come in, or at the window, where the raindrops +splashed, falling from the higher, the lower, and the lowest clouds, +from the thatch, from the fading leaves of the trees, and from the +window frames. When all these splashes mingled into one, they sounded +like approaching footfalls. Then the cottage door creaked. 'Maciek,' +muttered the gospodarz. But Maciek did not appear. + +A hand was groping along the passage wall. + +'What's the matter with him, has he gone blind?' impatiently exclaimed +the gospodyni, and opened the door. + +Something which was not Maciek was standing in the passage, a shapeless +figure, not tall, but bulky. It was wrapped in a soaking wet shawl. +Slimakowa stepped back for a moment, but when the firelight fell into +the passage, she discerned a human face in the opening of the shawl, +copper-coloured, with a broad nose and slanting eyes that were hardly +visible under the swollen eyelids. + +'The Lord be praised,' said a hoarse voice. + +'You, Zoska?' asked the astonished gospodyni. + +'It is I.' + +'Come in quickly, you are letting all the damp into the room.' + +The new-comer stepped forward, but stood still, irresolutely. She held +a child in her arms whose face was as white as chalk, with blue lips; +she drew out one of its arms; it looked like a stick. + +'What are you doing out in weather like this?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm going after a place.' She looked round, and decided to crouch down +on the floor, near the wall. 'They say in the village that you have a +lot of money now; I thought you might want a girl.' + +'We don't want a girl, there is not even enough for Magda to do. Why +are you out of a place?' + +'I've been harvesting in the summer, but now no one will take me in +with the child. If I were alone I could get along.' + +Maciek came in, and not being aware of Zoska's presence, started on +seeing a crouching form on the floor. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I thought Slimak might take me on, but he doesn't want me with the +child.' + +'Oh Lord!' sighed the man, moved by the sight of poverty greater than +his own. + +'Why, Maciek, that sounds as if you had a bad conscience,' said the +gospodyni disagreeably. + +'It makes one feel bad, to see such wretchedness,' he murmured. + +'The man whose fault it is would feel it most!' + +'It isn't my fault, but I'm sorry for them all the same.' + +'Why don't you take the child, then, if you are so sorry?' sneered +Slimakowa, 'you'll give him the child, Zoska, won't you? Is it a boy?' + +'A girl,' whispered Zoska, with her eyes fixed on Maciek, 'she is two +years old... yes, he can have her, if he likes.' + +'She'd be a deal of trouble to me,' muttered the labourer, 'all the +same, it's a pity.' + +'Take her,' repeated Zoska, 'Slimak is rich, you are rich....' + +'Oh yes, Maciek is rich,' laughed Slimakowa, 'he drinks through six +roubles in one Sunday.' + +'If you can drink through six roubles, you can take her,' Zoska cried +vehemently, pulling the child out of the shawl and laying it on the +floor. It looked frightened, but did not utter a sound. + +'Shut up, Jagna, and don't talk nonsense,' said Slimak. Zoska stood up +and stretched herself. + +'Now I shall be easy for once,' she said, 'I've often thought I'd like +to throw her away into a ditch, but you may as well have her. Mind you +look after her properly! If I come back and don't find her, I'll +scratch out your eyes.' + +'You are crazy,' said Slimak, 'cross yourself.' + +'I won't cross myself, I'll go away....' + +'Don't be a fool, and sit down to supper,' angrily cried the gospodyni. +She took the saucepan off so impetuously, that the hot ashes flew all +over the stove, and one touched Zoska's bare feet. + +'Fire!... fire!' she shouted, and escaped from the room, 'the cottage +is on fire, everything is on fire!' + +She staggered out like a drunken person, and they could hear her voice +farther and farther off, shouting 'Fire!' until the rain drowned it. + +'Run, Maciek, and bring her back,' cried Slimakowa. But Maciek did not +stir. + +'You can't send a man after a mad woman on a night like this,' said +Slimak. + +'Well, what am I to do with this dog's child? Do you think I shall feed +her?' + +'I dare say you won't throw her over the fence. You needn't worry, +Zoska will come back for her.' + +'I don't want her here for the night.' + +'Then what are you going to do with her?' said Slimak, getting angry. + +'I'll take her to the stable,' Maciek said in a low voice, lifting the +child up awkwardly. He sat down on the bench with it and rocked it +gently on his knees. There was silence in the room. Presently Magda, +Jendrek, and Stasiek emerged from their corner and stood by Maciek, +looking at the little creature. + +'She is as thin as a lath,' whispered Magda. + +'She doesn't move or look at us,' remarked Jendrek. + +'You must feed her from a rag,' advised Magda, 'I will find you a clean +one.' + +'Sit down to supper,' ordered Slimakowa, but her voice sounded less +angry. She looked at the child, first from a distance, then she bent +over it and touched its drawn yellow skin. + +'That bitch of a mother!' she murmured, 'Magda, put a little milk in a +saucer, and you, Maciek, sit down to supper.' + +'Let Magda sit down, I'll feed her myself.' + +'Feed her!' cried Magda, 'he doesn't even know how to hold her.' She +tried to take the child from him. + +'Don't pull her to pieces,' said the gospodyni, 'pour out the milk and +let Maciek feed her, if he is so keen on it.' + +The way in which Maciek performed his task elicited much advice from +Magda. 'He has poured the milk all over her mouth...it's running on to +the floor...why do you stick the rag into her nose?' + +Although he felt that he was making a bad nurse, Maciek would not let +the child out of his hands. He hastily ate a little soup, left the +rest, and went to his night-quarters in the stable, sheltering the +child under his sukmana. When he entered, one of the horses neighed, +and the other turned his head and sniffed at the child in the darkness. + +'That's right, greet the new stable-boy who can't even hold a whip,' +laughed Maciek. + +The rain continued to fall. When Slimak looked out later on, the stable +door was shut, and he fancied he could hear Maciek snoring. + +He returned into the room. + +'Are they all right in there?' asked his wife. + +'They are asleep,' he replied, and bolted the door. + +The cocks had crowed midnight, the dog had barked his answer and +squeezed under the cart for shelter, everybody was asleep. Then the +stable door creaked, and a shadow stole out, moved along the walls and +disappeared into the cowshed. It was Maciek. He drew the whimpering +child from under his sukmana and put its mouth to the cow's udder. + +'Suck, little one,' he whispered, 'suck the cow, because your mother +has left you.' + +A few moments later smacking sounds were heard. + +And the rain continued to drip...drip...drip, monotonously. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The announcement that the railway was to be built in the spring caused +a great stir in the village. The strangers who went about buying land +from the peasants were the sole topic of conversation at the +spinning-wheels on winter evenings. One poor peasant had sold his +barren gravel hill, and had been able to purchase ten acres of the best +land with the proceeds. + +The squire and his wife had returned in December, and it was rumoured +that they were going to sell the property. The squire was playing the +American organ all day long, as usual, and only laughed when the people +timidly asked him whether there was any truth in the report. It was the +lady who had told her maid in the evening how gay the life in Warsaw +would be; an hour later the bailiff's clerk, who was the maid's +sweetheart, knew of it; early the next morning the clerk repeated it to +the bailiff and to the foreman as a great secret, and by the afternoon +all the employees and labourers were discussing the great secret. In +the evening it had reached the inn, and then rapidly spread into the +cottages and to the small town. + +The power of the little word 'Sale' was truly marvellous. + +It made the farm labourers careless in their work and the bailiff give +notice at New Year; it made the mute hard-working animals grow lean, +the sheaves disappear from the barn and the corn from the granary; it +made off with the reserve cart-wheels and harnesses, pulled the +padlocks off the buildings, took planks out of the fences, and on dark +nights it swallowed up now a chicken, now even a sheep or a small pig, +and sent the servants to the public-house every night. + +A great, a sonorous word! It sounded far and wide, and from the little +town came the trades people, presenting their bills. It was written on +the face of every man, in the sad eyes of the neglected beasts, on all +the doors and on the broken window-panes, plastered up with paper. +There were only two people who pretended not to hear it, the gentleman +who played the American organ and the lady who dreamt of going to +Warsaw. When the neighbours asked them, he shrugged his shoulders, and +she sighed and said: 'We should like to sell, it's dull living in the +country, but my father in Warsaw has not yet had an offer.' + +Slimak, who often went to work at the manor, had also heard the rumour, +but he did not believe it. When he met the squire he would look at him +and think: 'He can't help being as he is, but if such a misfortune +should befall him, I should be grieved for him. They have been settled +at the manor from father to son; half the churchyard is full of them, +they have all grown up here. Even a stone would fret if it were moved +from such a place, let alone a man. Surely, he can't be bankrupt like +other noblemen? It's well known that he has money.' + +The peasant judged his squire by himself. He did not know what it meant +to have a young wife who was bored in the country. + +While Slimak put his trust in the squire's unruffled manner, +cogitations were going on at the inn under the guidance of Josel, the +publican. + +One morning, half-way through January, old Sobieska burst into the +cottage. Although the winter sun had not yet begun to look round the +world, the old woman was flushed, and her eyes looked bloodshot. Her +lean chest was insufficiently covered by a sheepskin as old as herself +and a torn chemise. + +'Here!...give me some vodka and I'll give you a little bit of news,' +she called out. Slimak was just going off to thresh, but he sat down +again and asked his wife to bring the vodka, for he knew that the old +woman usually knew what she was talking about. + +She drank a large glassful, stamped her foot, gurgled 'Oo-ah!', wiped +her mouth and said: 'I say! the squire is going to sell everything.' + +The thought of his field crossed Slimak's mind and made his blood run +cold, but he answered calmly: 'Gossip!' + +'Gossip?' the old woman hiccoughed, 'I tell you, it's gospel truth, and +I'll tell you more: the richer gospodarze are settling with Josel and +Gryb to buy the whole estate and the whole village from the squire, so +help me God!' + +'How can they settle that without me?' + +'Because they want to keep you out. They say you will be better off as +it is, because you will be nearer to the station, and that you have +already made a lot of money by spoiling other people's business.' + +She drained another glass and would have said more, but was suddenly +overcome, and had to be carried out of the room by Slimak. + +He and his wife consulted for the rest of the day what would be the +best thing to do under the circumstances. Towards evening he put on his +new sukmana lined with sheepskin and went to the inn. + +Gryb and Lukasiak were sitting at the table. By the light of the two +tallow candles they looked like two huge boundary-stones in their grey +clothes. Josel stood behind the bar in a dirty jersey with black +stripes. He had a sharp nose, pointed beard, pointed curls, and wore a +peaked cap; there was something pointed also in his look. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Slimak. + +'In Eternity,' Josel answered indifferently. + +'What are the gospodarze drinking?' + +'Tea,' the innkeeper replied. + +'Then I will have tea too, but let it be as black as pitch, and with +plenty of arrac.' + +'Have you come to drink tea with us?' Josel taunted him. + +'No,' said Slimak, slowly sitting down, 'I've come to find out....' + +'What old Sobieska meant,' finished the innkeeper in an undertone. + +'How about this business? is it true that you are buying land from the +squire?' asked Slimak. + +The two gospodarze exchanged glances with Josel, who smiled. After a +pause Lukasiak replied: + +'Oh, we are talking of it for want of something better to do, but who +would have the money for such a big undertaking?' + +'You two between you could buy it!' + +'Perhaps we may, but it would be for ourselves and those living in the +village.' + +'What about me?' + +'You don't take us into your confidence about your business affairs, so +mind you keep out of ours.' + +'It's not only your affair, but concerns the whole village.' + +'No, it's nobody's but mine,' snapped Gryb. + +'It's mine just as much.' + +'That is not so!' Gryb struck the table with his fist: if I don't like +a man, he shan't buy, and there's an end of it.' + +The publican smiled. Seeing that Slimak was getting pale with anger, +Lukasiak took Gryb by the arm. + +'Let us go home, neighbour,' he said. 'What is the good of talking +about things that may never come off? Come along.' + +Gryb looked at Josel and got up. + +'So you are going to buy without me?' asked Slimak. + +'You bought without us last summer.' They shook hands with the +innkeeper and took no notice of Slimak. + +Josel looked after them until their footsteps could no longer be heard, +then, still smiling, he turned to Slimak. + +'Do you see now, gospodarz, that it is a bad thing to take the bread +out of a Jew's mouth? I have lost fifty roubles through you and you +have made twenty-five, but you have bought a hundred roubles' worth of +trouble, for the whole village is against you.' + +'They really mean to buy the squire's land without me?' + +'Why shouldn't they? What do they care about your loss if they can +gain?' + +'Well...well,' muttered the peasant sadly. + +'I,' said Josel, 'might perhaps be able to arrange the affair for you, +but what should I gain by it? You have never been well disposed towards +me, and you have already done me harm.' + +'So you won't arrange it?' + +'I might, but on my own terms.' + +'What are they?' + +'First of all you will give me back the fifty roubles. Secondly, you +will build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He will keep horses and drive people to and from the station.' + +'And what am I to do with my horses?' + +'You have your land.' + +The gospodarz got up. 'Aren't you going to give me any tea?' + +'I haven't any in the house.' + +'Very well; I won't pay you fifty roubles, and I won't build a cottage +for your brother-in-law.' + +'Do as you please.' Slimak left the inn, banging the door. + +Josel turned his pointed nose and beard in his direction and smiled. + +In the darkness Slimak collided with a labourer from the manor who +carried a sack of corn on his back; presently he saw one of the servant +girls hiding a goose under her sheepskin. When she recognized him she +ran behind the fence. But Josel continued to smile. He smiled, when he +paid the labourer a rouble for the corn, including the sack; he smiled, +when the girl handed over the goose and got a bottle of sour beer in +return; he smiled, when he listened to the gospodarze discussing the +purchase of the land, and he smiled when he paid old Gryb two roubles +per cent., and took two roubles from young Gryb for every ten he lent +him. His smile no more came off his face than his dirty jersey came off +his back. + +The fire was out and the children were asleep when Slimak returned +home. + +'Well?' asked his wife, while he was undressing in the dark. + +'This is a trick of Josel's. He drives the others like a team of oxen.' + +'They won't let you in?' + +'They won't, but I shall go to the squire about the field.' + +'When are you going?' + +'To-morrow, else it may be too late.' + +To-morrow came; the day after came and went; a week passed, but Slimak +had not yet done anything. One day he said he must thresh for a corn +dealer, the other day that he had a pain inside. + +As a matter of fact, he neither threshed nor had a pain inside; but +something held him back which peasants call being afraid, gentlemen +slackness, and scholars inertia. + +He ate little, wandered round aimlessly, and often stood still in the +snow-covered field by the river, struggling with himself. Reason told +him that he ought to go to the manor and settle the matter, but another +power held him fast and whispered: 'Don't hurry, wait another day, it +will all come right somehow.' + +'Josef, why don't you go to the squire?' his wife asked day after day. + +One evening old Sobieska turned up again. She was suffering from +rheumatism, and required treatment with a 'thimbleful' of vodka which +loosened her tongue. + +'It was like this,' she began: 'Gryb and Lukasiak went with Grochowski, +all three dressed as for a Corpus Christi procession. The squire +received them in the bailiff's office, and Gryb cleared his throat and +went for it. "We have heard, sir, that you are going to sell your +family estate. Every man has a right to sell, and the other to buy. But +it would be a pity to allow the land which your forefathers possessed, +and which we peasants have cultivated, to fall into the hands of +strangers who have no associations with old times. Therefore, sir, sell +the land to us." I tell you,'Sobieska continued, 'he talked for an +hour, like the priest in the pulpit; at last Lukasiak got stiff in the +back,[1] and they all burst out crying. Then they embraced the squire's +feet, and he took their heads between his hands[2] and...' + +[Footnote 1: The peasants would stand bent all the time.] + +[Footnote 2: A nobleman, in order to show goodwill to his subordinates, +slightly presses their heads between his hands.] + +'Well, and are they buying?' Slimak interrupted impatiently. + +'Why shouldn't they buy? Certainly they are buying. They are not yet +quite agreed as to the price, for the squire wants a hundred roubles an +acre, and the peasants are offering fifty; but they cried so much, and +talked so long about good feeling between peasants and landowners that +the gospodarze will add another ten, and the squire will let them off +the rest. Josel has told them to give that much and no more, and not to +be in a hurry, then they'll be sure to drive a good bargain. He's a +damned clever Jew! Since he has taken the matter in hand, people have +flocked to the inn as if the Holy Mother were working miracles there.' + +'Is he still setting the others against me?' + +'He is not actually setting them against you, but he puts in a word now +and then that you can no longer count as a gospodarz, since you have +taken to trading. The others are even more angry with you than he is; +they can't forget that you sold chickens at just double the price you +bought them for.' + +The result of this news was that Slimak set out for the manor-house +early the next day, and returned depressed in the afternoon. A large +bowl of sauerkraut presently made him willing to discourse. + +'It was like this: I arrive at the manor, and when I look up I see that +all the windows of the large room on the ground floor are wide open. +God forbid! has some one died? I think to myself. I peep in and see +Mateus, the footman, in a white apron with brushes on his feet, skating +up and down like the boys on the ice. "The Lord be praised, Mateus, +what are you doing?" I say. "In Eternity, I am polishing the floor," +says he; "we are going to have a big dance here to-night." "Is the +squire up yet?" "He is up, but the tailor is with him; he is trying on +a Crakovian costume. My lady is going to be a gipsy." "I want him to +sell me that field," I say. Mateus says: "Don't be a fool! how can the +squire think of your field, when he is amusing himself making up as a +Crakovian." So I go away from the window and stand about near the +kitchen for a bit. They are bustling like anything, the fire is burning +like a forge, and the butter is hissing. Presently Ignaz, the kitchen +boy, comes out, covered with blood, as if he had been stuck. "Ignaz, +for God's sake, what have you been doing?" I ask. "I haven't been doing +anything; it's the cook, he's been boxing my ears with a dead duck." +"The Lord be praised it is not your blood. Tell me where I can find the +squire." "Wait here," he says, "they'll bring in the boar, and the +squire is sure to come and have a look at it." Ignaz runs off, and I +wait and wait, until the shivers run down my back. But still I wait.' + +'Well, and did you see the squire?' Slimakowa asked impatiently. + +'Of course I saw him.' + +'Did you speak to him?' + +'Rather!' + +'What did you settle?' + +'Well...ah...I told him I wanted to beg a favour of him about the +field, but he said, "Oh, leave me alone, I have no head for business +to-day."' + +'And when will you go again?' + +Slimak held up his hands: 'Perhaps to-morrow, or the day after, when +they have slept off their dance.' + +That same day Maciek drove a sledge to the forest, taking with him an +axe, a bite of food, and 'Silly Zoska's' daughter. The mother had never +asked after her, and Maciek had mothered the child; he fed her, took +her to the stable with him at night and to his work in the day-time. + +The child was so weak that it hardly ever uttered a sound. Every one, +especially Sobieska, had predicted her early death. + +'She won't last a week.'...'She'll die tomorrow.'...'She's as good as +gone already.' + +But she had lived through the week and longer, and even when she had +been taken for dead once, she opened her tired eyes to the world again. +Maciek paid no attention to these prognostications. 'Never fear,' he +said, 'nothing will happen to her.' He continued to feed her in the +cowshed after dark. + +'What makes you take trouble about that wretched child, Maciek?' +Slimakowa would say; 'if you talked to her about the Blessed Bible +itself she would take no notice; she's dreadfully stupid, I never saw +such a noodle in all my life.' + +'She doesn't talk, because she has sense,' said Maciek; 'when she +begins to talk she will be as wise as an old man.' + +That was because Maciek was in the habit of talking to her about his +work, whatever he might be doing, manuring, threshing, or patching his +clothes. + +To-day he was taking her with him to the forest, tied to the sledge, +and wrapt in the remnants of his old sheepskin and a shawl. Uphill and +downhill over the hummocks bumped the sledge, until they arrived on +level ground, where the slanting rays of the sun, endlessly reflected +from the snow-crystals, fell into their eyes. The child began to cry. + +Maciek turned her sideways, scolding: 'Now then, I told you to shut +your eyes! No man, and if he were the bishop himself, can look at the +sun; it's God's lantern. At daybreak the Lord Jesus takes it into his +hand and has a look round his gospodarstwo. In the winter, when the +frost is hard, he takes a short cut and sleeps longer. But he makes up +for it in the summer, and looks all over the world till eight o'clock +at night. That's why one should be astir from daybreak till sunset. But +you may sleep longer, little one, for you aren't much use yet. Woa!' +They entered the forest. 'Here we are! this is the forest, and it +belongs to the squire. Slimak has bought a cartload of wood, and we +must get it home before the roads are too bad. Steady, lads!' They +stopped by a square pile of wood. Maciek untied the child and put her +in a sheltered place, took out a bottle of milk and put it to her lips. +'Drink it and get strong, there will be some work for you. The logs are +heavy, and you must lift them into the sledge. You don't want the milk? +Naughty girl! Call out when you want it.... A little child like that +makes things cheerful for a man,' he reflected. 'Formerly there never +was any one to open one's mouth to, now one can talk all the time. Now +watch how the work should be done. Jendrek would pull the logs about, +and get tired in no time and stop. But mind you take them from the top, +carefully, and lift them into the sledge, one by one like this. Never +be in a hurry, little one, or else the damned wood will tire you out. +It doesn't want to go on to the sledge, for it has sense, and knows +what to expect. We all prefer our own corner of the world, even if it +is a bad one. But to you and me it's all the same, we have no corner of +our own; die here or die there, it makes no difference.' Now and then +he rested, or tucked the child up more closely. + +Meanwhile, the sky had reddened, and a strong north-west wind sprang +up, saturated with moisture. The forest, held in its winter sleep, +slowly began to move and to talk. The green pine needles trembled, then +the branches and boughs began to sway and beckon to each other. The +tops, and finally the stems rocked forward and backward, as if they +contemplated starting on a march. It was as if their eternal fixedness +grieved them, and they were setting out in a tumultuous crowd to the +ends of the world. Sometimes they became motionless near the sledge, as +though they did not wish to betray their secret to a human being. Then +the tramp of countless feet, the march past of whole columns of the +right wing, could be heard distinctly; they approached, and passed at a +distance. The left wing followed; the snow creaked under their +footsteps, they were already in a line with the sledge. The middle +column, emboldened, began to call in mighty whispers. Then they halted +angrily, stood still in their places and seemed to roar: 'Go away! go +away, and do not hinder us!' + +But Maciek was only a poor labourer, and though he was afraid of the +giants, and would gladly have made room for them, he could not leave +until he had loaded up his sledge. He did not rest now or rub his +frozen hands; he worked as fast as he could, so that the night and the +winter storms should not overtake him. + +The sky grew darker and darker with clouds; mists rose in the forests +and froze into fine crystals which instantly covered Maciek's sukmana, +the child's shawl, and the horses' manes with a crackling crust. The +logs became so slippery that his hands could scarcely hold them; the +ground was like glass. He looked anxiously towards the setting sun: it +was dangerous to return with a heavy load when the roads were in that +condition. He crossed himself, put the child into the sledge, and +whipped up the horses. Maciek stood in fear of many things, but most of +all he feared the overturning of a sledge or cart, and being crushed +underneath. + +When they were out of the wood the track became worse and worse. The +rough-hewn runners constantly sank into snow-drifts and the sledge +canted over, so that the poor man, trembling with fear and cold, had to +prop it up with all his strength. If his twisted foot gave way, there +was an end to him and the child. + +From time to time the horses stopped dead, and Maciek ceased shouting. +Then a great silence spread round him, only the distant roar of the +forest, the whistling of the wind, and the whimpering of the child +could be heard. + +'Woa!' he began again, and the horses tugged and slipped where they +stood, moved on a few steps, and stopped again. + +'To Thy protection we flee, Holy Mother of God!' he whispered, took his +axe and cut into the smooth road in front of the horses. + +It took him a long time to cover the short distance to the high road, +but when they got there, the horses refused to go on at all. The hill +in front of them was impassable. He sat down on the sledge, pondering +whether Slimak would come to his assistance, or leave him to his fate. +'He'll come for the horses; don't cry, little one, God won't forsake +us.' While he listened, it seemed to him as if the whistling of the +wind changed into the sound of bells. Was it his fancy? But the bells +never ceased; some were deep-toned and some high-toned; voices were +intermixed with them. They approached from behind like a swarm of bees +in the summer. + +'What can it be?' said Maciek, and stood up. + +Small flames shone in the distance. They disappeared among the juniper +bushes, and then flickered up again, now high, now low, coming nearer +and nearer, until a number of objects, running at full speed, could be +seen in the uncertain light of the flames. The tumult of voices +increased; Maciek heard the clattering of hoofs, the cracking of whips. + +'Heh! stop...there's a hill there!' + +'Look out! don't be crazy!' + +'Stop the sledge, I shall get out!' + +'No, go on!' + +'Jesus Mary!' + +'Have the musicians been spilt yet?' + +'Not yet, but they will be.' + +'Oh...la la!' + +Maciek now understood that this was a sleigh race. The teams of +two-and four-horsed sleighs approached at a gallop, accompanied by +riders on horseback carrying torches. In the thick mist it looked as if +the procession appeared out of an abyss through a circular gate of +fire. They bore straight down upon the spot where Maciek and his sledge +had come to a standstill. Suddenly the first one stopped. + +'Hey...what's that?' + +'Something is in the way.' + +'What is it?' + +'A peasant with a cartload of wood.' + +'Out of the way, dog. Throw him into the ditch!' + +'Shut up! We'd better move him on.' + +'That we will! We are going to move the peasant on. Out of your +sledges, gentlemen!' + +Before Maciek had recovered from his astonishment, he was surrounded by +masked men in rich costumes with plumed hats, swords, guitars, or +brooms. They seized his sledge and himself, pushed them to the top of +the hill and down the other side on to level ground. + +'Thank God!' thought the dazed man. 'If the devil hadn't led them this +way, I might have been here till the morning. They are fine fellows!' + +'The ladies are afraid to drive down the hill,' some one shouted from +the distance. + +'Then let them get out and walk!' + +'The sledges had better not go down.' + +'Why not? Go on, Antoni!' + +'I don't advise it, sir.' + +'Then get off and be hanged! I'll drive myself!' + +Bells jingled violently, and a one-horse sledge passed Maciek like a +whirlwind. He crossed himself. + +'Drive on, Andrei!' + +'Stop, Count! It's too risky!' + +'Go on!' + +Another sledge flew past. + +'Bravo! Sporting fellow!' + +'Drive on, Jacent!' + +Two sledges were racing each other, a driver and a mask in each. The +mad race had made the road sufficiently safe for the other empty +sledges to pass with greater caution. + +'Now give your arm to the ladies! A polonaise! Musicians!' + +The outriders with torches posted themselves along the road, the +musicians tuned up, and couple after couple detached itself from the +darkness like an iridescent apparition. They hovered past to the +melancholy strains of the Oginski polonaise. + +Maciek took off his cap, drew the child from under the sheepskin and +stood beside his sledge. + +'Now look, you'll never see anything so beautiful again. Don't be +afraid!' + +An armoured and visored man passed. + +'Do you see that knight? Formerly people like that conquered half the +world, now there are none of them left.' + +A grey-bearded senator passed. + +'Look at him! People used to fear his judgment, but there are none like +him left! That one, as gaudy as a woodpecker, was a great nobleman +once; he did nothing but drink and dance; he could drain a barrel at a +bout, and he spent so much money that he had to sell his family estate, +poor wretch! There's a Uhlan; they used to fight for Napoleon and +conquer all the nations, but there are no fighters left in the world. +There's a chimney sweep and a peasant...but in reality they are all +gentlemen amusing themselves.' + +The procession passed; fainter and fainter grew the strains of the +Oginski polonaise; with shouts and laughter the masks got back into the +sleighs, hoofs clattered and whips cracked. + +Maciek started cautiously homeward in the wake of the jingling sleighs. +Distant flames were still twinkling ahead, and the wind carried faint +sounds of merriment back to him. Then all was silent. + +'Are they doing right?' he murmured, perturbed. + +For he recalled the portrait of the grey-headed senator in the choir of +the church; he had even prayed to it sometimes.... The bald-headed +nobleman was there too, whom the peasants called 'the cursed man', and +the knight in armour who was lying on his tomb beside the altar of the +Holy Martyr Apollonius. Then he remembered the friar who walked through +the Vistula, and Queen Jadwiga who had brought salt from Hungary. And +by the side of all these he saw his own old wise grandfather, Roch +Owczarz, who had been a soldier under Napoleon, and came home without a +penny, and in his old age became sacristan at the church, and explained +all the pictures to the gospodarze so beautifully that he earned more +money than the organist. + +'The Lord rest his soul eternally!' + +And now these noblemen were amusing themselves with sacred matters! +What would they do next?... + +Slimak met him when he was about a verst from the cottage. + +'We have been wondering if you had got stuck on the hill. Thank God you +are safe. Did you see the sleigh race?' + +'Oho!' said Maciek. + +'I wonder they did not smash you to pieces.' + +'Why should they? They even helped me up the hill.' + +'Dear me! And they didn't pull you about?' + +'They only pulled my cap over my ears.' + +'That is just like them; either they will smash you up, or else be +kindness itself, it just depends what temper they're in.' + +'But the way they drove down those hills made one's flesh creep. No +sober man would have come out of it alive.' + +Two sledges now overtook them; there was one traveller in the first and +two in the second. + +'Can you tell me where that sleigh party was driving to?' asked the +occupant of the first. + +'To the squire's.' + +'Indeed!... Do you know if Josel, the innkeeper, is at home?' + +'I dare say he is, unless he is off on some swindle or other.' + +'Do you know if your squire has sold his estate yet?' asked a guttural +voice from the second sledge. + +'You shouldn't ask him such a question, Fritz,' remonstrated his +companion. + +'Oh! the devil take the whole business!' replied Fritz. + +'Aha, here they are again!' said Slimak. + +'What do all those Old Testament Jews want?' asked Maciek. + +'There was only one Jew, the others are Germans from Wolka.' + +'The gentlefolks never have any peace; no sooner do they want to enjoy +themselves, than the Jews drive after them,' said Maciek. + +Indeed, the sledges conveying the travellers were now with difficulty +driving towards the valley, and presently stopped at Josel's inn. + +Barrels of burning pitch in front of the manor house threw a rosy glare +over the wintry landscape; distant sounds of music came floating on the +air. + +Josel came out and directed the Jew's sledge to the manor. The Germans +got out, and one of them shouted after the departing Jew: 'You will see +nothing will come of it; they are amusing themselves.' + +'Well, and what of that?' + +'A nobleman does not give up a dance for a business interview.' + +'Then he will sell without it.' + +'Or put you off.' + +'I have no time for that.' + +The facade of the manor-house glowed as in a bengal light; the +sleigh-bells were still tinkling in the yard, where the coachmen were +quarrelling over accommodation for their horses. Crowds of village +people were leaning against the railings to watch the dancers flit past +the windows, and to catch the strains of the music. Around all this +noise, brightness, and merriment lay the darkness of the winter night, +and from the winter night emerged slowly the sledge, carrying the +silent, meditating Jew. + +His modest conveyance stopped at the gate, and he dragged himself to +the kitchen entrance; his whole demeanour betrayed great mental and +physical tiredness. He tried to attract the attention of the cook, but +failed entirely; the kitchen-maid also turned her back on him. At last +he got hold of a boy who was hurrying across to the pantry, seized him +by the shoulders, and pressed a twenty kopek-piece into his hand. + +'You shall have another twenty kopeks if you will bring the footman.' + +'Does your honour know Mateus?' The boy scrutinized him sharply. + +'I do, bring him here.' + +Mateus appeared without delay. + +'Here is a rouble for you; ask your master if he will see me, and I +will double it.' The footman shook his head. + +'The master is sure to refuse.' + +'Tell him, it is Pan Hirschgold, on urgent business from my lady's +father. Here is another rouble, so that you do not forget the name.' + +Mateus quickly disappeared, but did not quickly return. The music +stopped, yet he did not return; a polka followed, yet he did not +return. At last he appeared: 'The master asks you to come to the +bailiff's office.' He took Pan Hirschgold into a room where several +camp-beds had been made up for the guests. The Jew took off his +expensive fur, sat down in an armchair by the fire and meditated. + +The polka had been finished, and a vigorous mazurka began. The tumult +and stamping increased from time to time; commands rang out, and were +followed by a noise which shook the house from top to bottom. The Jew +listened indifferently, and waited without impatience. + +Suddenly there was a great commotion in the passage; the door was +opened impetuously, and the squire entered. + +He was dressed as a Crakovian peasant in a red coat covered with +jingling ornaments, wide, pink-and-white-striped breeches, a red cap +with a peacock's feather, and iron-shod shoes. + +'How are you, Pan Hirschgold?' he cried good-humouredly, 'what is this +urgent message from my father-in-law?' + +'Read it, sir.' + +'What, now? I'm dancing a mazurka.' + +'And I am building a railway.' + +The squire bit his lip, and quickly ran his eye over the letter. The +noise of the dancers increased. + +'You want to buy my estate?' + +'Yes, and at once, sir.' + +'But you see that I am giving a dance.' + +'The colonists are waiting to come in, sir. If you cannot settle with +me before midnight, I shall settle with your neighbour. He gains, and +you lose.' + +The squire was becoming feverish. + +'My father-in-law recommends you highly...all the same,...on the spur +of the moment....' + +'You need only write a word or two.' + +The squire dashed his red cap down on the table. 'Really, Pan +Hirschgold, this is unbearable!' + +'It's not my fault; I should like to oblige you, but business is +pressing.' + +There was another hubbub in the passage, and the Uhlan burst into the +room, 'For heaven's sake, what are you doing, Wladek?' + +'Urgent business.' + +'But your lady is waiting for you!' + +'Do arrange for some one to take my place; I tell you, it's urgent.' + +'I don't know how the lady will take it!' cried the retreating Uhlan. + +The powerful bass voice of the leader of the mazurka rang out: 'Ladies' +ronde!' + +'How much will you give me?' hastily began the squire. 'Rather an +original situation!' he unexpectedly added, with humour. + +'Seventy-five roubles an acre. This is my highest offer. To-morrow I +should only give sixty-seven.' + +'En avant!' from the ball-room. + +'Never!' cried the squire, 'I should prefer to sell to the peasants.' + +'And get fifty, or at the outside sixty.' + +'Or go on managing the estate myself.' + +'You are doing that now...what is the result?' + +'What do you mean?' said the squire irritably, 'it's excellent +soil....' + +'I know all about the property,' interrupted the Jew, 'from the bailiff +who left at New Year.' + +The squire became angry. 'I can sell to the colonists myself.' + +'They may give sixty-seven, but meanwhile my lady is dying of boredom.' + +'Chŕine to the left!' + +The squire became desperate. 'God, what am I to do?' + +'Sign the agreement. Your father-in-law advises you to do so, and tells +you that I shall pay the highest price.' + +'Partagez!' + +Again the Uhlan violently burst into the room. + +'Wladek, you really must come; the Count is mortally offended, and says +he will take his fiancée away.' + +'Oh, confound it! Pan Hirschgold, write the agreement at once, I will +be back directly.' + +Unmindful of the gaiety of the dance, the Jew calmly took an inkpot, +pen, and paper out of his bag, wrote a dozen lines, and sat down, +waiting for the noise to subside. + +A quarter of an hour later the squire returned in the best of spirits. + +'Ready?' he asked cheerfully. + +'Ready.' + +The squire read the paper, signed, and said with a smile: + +'What, do you think is the value of this agreement?' + +'Perhaps the legal value is not great, but it has some value for your +father-in-law, and he...well, he is a rich man!' + +He blew on the signature, folded up the paper, and asked with a shade +of irony: 'Well, and the Count?' + +'Oh, he is pacified.' + +'He will want more pacifying presently, when his creditors become +annoying. I wish you a pleasant night, sir.' + +No sooner had the squire left the room, than Mateus, the footman, +appeared, as if the ground had produced him. He helped the Jew into his +coat. + +'Did you buy the estate, sir?' + +'Why shouldn't I? It's not the first, nor will it be the last.' + +He gave the footman three roubles. Mateus bowed to the ground and +offered to call his sledge. + +'Oh no, thank you,' said the Jew, 'I have left my own sledge in Warsaw, +and I am not anxious to parade this wretched conveyance.' + +Nevertheless, Mateus attended him deferentially into the yard. + +In the ballroom polkas, valses, and mazurkas followed each other +endlessly until the pale dawn appeared, and the cottage fires were lit. + +Slimak rose with the winter sun, and whispering a prayer, walked out of +the gate. He looked at the sky, then towards the manor-house, wondering +how long the merrymaking was going to last. + +The sky was blue, the first sun rays were bathing the snow in rose +colour, and the clouds in purple. Slimak drew a deep breath, and felt +that it was better to be out in the fresh air than indoors, dancing. + +'Making themselves tired without need,' he thought, 'when they might be +sleeping to their hearts' content!' Then he resumed his prayer. His +attention was attracted by voices, and he saw two men in navy blue +overcoats. When they caught sight of him, one asked at once: + +'That is your hill, gospodarz, isn't it?' + +Slimak looked at them in surprise. + +'Why do you keep on asking me about my property? I told you last summer +that the hill was mine.' + +'Then sell it to us,' said the man with the beard. + +'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man. + +'Oh bother! are you going to gossip again, father?' + +'Look here, gospodarz,' said the father, 'we have bought the squire's +estate. Now we want this; hill, because we want to build a +windmill....' + +'Gracious!' exclaimed the son disagreeably, 'have you lost your senses, +father? Listen! we want that land!' + +'My land?' the peasant repeated in amazement, looking about him, 'my +land?' + +He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'What right have +you gentlemen to my land?' + +'We have got money.' + +'Money?...I!...Sell my land for money? We have been settled here from +father to son; we were here at the time of the scourge of serfdom, and +even then we used to call the land "ours". My father got it for his own +by decree from the Emperor Alexander II; the Land Commission settled +all that, and we have the proper documents with signatures attached. +How can you say now that you want to buy my land?' + +The younger man had turned away indifferently during Slimak's long +speech and whistled, the older man shook his fist impatiently. + +'But we want to buy it...pay for it...cash! Sixty roubles an acre.' + +'And I wouldn't sell it for a hundred,' said Slimak. + +'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out +laughing. + +'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand +that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?' + +'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we +should pay you.' + +'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it +yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed. + +'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you +from morning till night.' + +The old man took Slimak's hand. + +'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not +like heathens. We praise the same God, why should we not agree? You +see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to +have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow +steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age. +That hill is nothing to you.' + +'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.' + +'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.' + +'Well, and I won't sell it!' + +The old man made a wry face, as if he were ready to cry. He drew the +peasant a few steps aside, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: +'Why are you so hard on me, gospodarz? You see, my sons don't hit it +off with each other. The elder is a farmer, and I want to set up the +younger as a miller and have him near me. I haven't long to live, I am +eighty years old, don't quarrel with me.' + +'Can't you buy land elsewhere?' + +'Not very well. We are a whole community settling together; it would +take a long time to make other arrangements. My son Wilhelm does not +like farming, and unless I buy him a windmill he will starve or go away +from me. I am an old man, sell me your land! Listen,' he whispered, 'I +will give you seventy-five roubles an acre. God is my witness, I am +offering you more than the land is worth. But you will let me have it, +won't you? You are an honest man and a Christian.' + +Slimak looked with astonishment and pity at the old man, from whose +inflamed eyes the tears were pouring down. + +'You can't have much sense, sir, to ask me such a thing,' he said. +'Would you ask a man to cut off his hand? What could a peasant do +without his land?' + +'You could buy twice as much. I will help you to find it.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are talking as a man talks when he digs up +a shrub in the woods. "Come," he says, "you shall be near my cottage!" +The shrub comes because it must, but it soon dies.' + +The man with the beard approached and spoke to his father in German. + +'So you won't sell me your land?' said the old man. + +'I won't.' + +'Not for seventy-five roubles?' + +'No.' + +'And I tell you, you will sell it,' cried the younger man, drawing his +father away. They went towards the bridge, talking German loudly. + +The peasant rested his chin on his hand and looked after them; then his +eyes fell on the manor-house, and he returned to the cottage at full +speed. 'Jagna,' he cried, 'do you know that the squire has sold his +estate?' The gospodyni crossed herself with a spoon. + +'In the name of the Father...Are you mad, Josef? Who told you so?' + +'Two Germans spoke to me just now; they told me. And, Jagna, they want +to buy our land, our own land!' + +'You are off your head altogether!' cried the woman. 'Jendrek, go and +see if there are any Germans about; your father is talking nonsense.' + +Jendrek returned with the information that he had seen two men in blue +overcoats the other side of the bridge. + +Slimak sat on the bench, his head drooping, his hands resting limply on +his knees. The morning light had turned grey, and made men and objects +look dull. The gospodyni suddenly looked attentively at her husband. + +'Why are you so pale?' she asked. 'What is the matter?' + +'What is the matter? A nice question for a clever woman to ask! Don't +you understand that the Germans will take the field away from us if the +squire has sold it to them?' + +'Why should they? We could pay the rent to them.' + +The woman tried to talk confidently, but her voice was unsteady. + +'You don't know what you're talking about! Germans keep cattle and are +sharp after grazing land. Besides, they will want to get rid of me.' + +'We shall see who gets rid of whom!' Slimakowa said sharply. + +She came and stood in front of her husband, with her arms akimbo, +gradually raising her voice. + +'Lord, what a man! He has only just looked at the Swabian[1] vermin, +and he has lost heart already. They will take away the field? Well, +what of that? we will drive the cattle into it all the same.' + +[Footnote 1: The Polish peasants call all Germans 'Swabians'.] + +'They will shoot the cattle.' + +'That isn't allowed.' + +'Then they will go to law and worry the life out of me.' + +'Very well, then we will buy fodder.' + +'Where? The gospodarze won't sell us any, and we shan't get a blade +from the Germans.' + +The breakfast was boiling over, but the housewife paid no attention to +it. She shook her clenched fists at her husband. + +'What do you mean, Josef! Pull yourself together! This is bad, and that +is no good!...What will you do then? You are taking the courage away +from me, a woman, instead of making up your mind what to do. Aren't you +ashamed before the children and Magda to sit there like a dying man, +rolling your eyes? Do you think I shall let the children starve for the +sake of your Germans, or do you think I shall get rid of the cow? Don't +imagine that I shall allow you to sell your land! No fear! If I fall +down dead and they bury me, I shall dig myself out again and prevent +you from doing the children harm! Why are you sitting there, looking at +me like a sheep? Eat your breakfast and go to the manor. Find out if +the squire has really sold his land, and if he hasn't, fall at his +feet, and lie there till he lets you have the field, even if you have +to pay sixty roubles.' + +'And if he has sold it?' + +'If he has sold it, may God punish him!' + +'That won't give us the field.' + +'You are a fool!' she cried. 'We and the children and the cattle have +lived by God's grace and not by the squire's.' + +'That's so,' said Slimak, suddenly getting up. 'Give me my breakfast. +What are you crying for?' + +After her passionate outburst Slimakowa had actually broken down. + +'How am I not to cry,' she sobbed, 'when the merciful God has punished +me with such an idiot of a husband? He will do nothing himself and +takes away my courage into the bargain.' + +'Don't be a fool,' he said, with his face clouding. 'I'll go to the +squire at once, even if I should have to give sixty roubles.' + +'But if the field is sold?' + +'Hang him, we have lived by the grace of God and not by his.' + +'Then where will you get fodder?' + +'Look after your pots and pans, and don't meddle with a man's affairs.' + +'The Germans will drive you away.' + +'The deuce they will!' He struck the table with his fist. 'If I were to +fall down dead, if they chopped me into little pieces, I wouldn't let +the dogs have my land. Give me my breakfast, or I'll ask you the reason +why!...And you, Jendrek, be off with Maciek, or I shall get the strap!' + +The sun shone into the ballroom of the manorhouse through every chink +and opening; streaks of white light lay on the floor, which was dented +by the dancers' heels, and on the walls; the rays were reflected in the +mirrors, rested on the gilt cornices and on the polished furniture. In +comparison with them the light of the candles and lamps looked yellow +and turbid. The ladies were pale and had blue circles round their eyes, +the powder was falling from their dishevelled hair, their dresses were +crumpled, and here and there in holes. The padding showed under the +imitation gold of the braids and belts of notables; rich velvets had +turned into cheap velveteens, beaver fur to rabbit skins, and silver +armour to tin. The musicians' hands dropped, the dancers' legs had +grown stiff. Intoxication had cooled and given place to heaviness; lips +were breathing feverishly. Only three couples were now turning in the +middle of the room, then two, then none. There was a lack of arm-chairs +for the men; the ladies hid their yawns behind their fans. At last the +music ceased, and as no one said anything, a dead silence spread +through the room. Candles began to splutter and went out, lamps smoked. + +'Shall we go in to tea?' asked the squire, in a hoarse voice. + +'To bed...to bed,' whispered the guests. + +'The bedrooms are ready,' he said, trying to sound cheerful, in spite +of sleepiness and a cold. + +The ladies immediately got up, threw their wraps over their shoulders +and left the room, turning their faces away from the windows. + +Soon the ballroom was empty, save for the old cellist, who had gone to +sleep with his arms round his instrument. The bustle was transferred to +distant rooms; there was much stamping upstairs and noise of men's +voices in the courtyard. Then all became silent. + +The squire came clinking along the passages, looked dully round the +ballroom, and said, yawning: 'Put out the lights, Mateus, and open the +windows. Where is my lady?' + +'My lady has gone to her room.' + +My lady, in her orange-velvet gipsy costume and a diamond hoop in her +hair, was lying in an arm-chair, her head thrown back. The squire +dropped into another arm-chair, yawning broadly. + +'Well, it was a great success.' + +'Splendid,' yawned my lady. + +'Our guests ought to be satisfied.' After a while he spoke again. + +'Do you know that I have sold the estate?' + +'To whom?' + +'To Hirschgold; he is giving me seventy-five roubles an acre.' + +'Thank God we shall get away at last.' + +'Well, you might come and give me a kiss!' + +'I'm much too tired. Come here, if you want one.' + +'I deserve that you should come here. I've done exceedingly well.' + +'No, I won't. Hirschgold...Hirschgold...oh yes, some acquaintance of +father's. The first mazurka was splendid, wasn't it?' + +The squire was snoring. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The squire and his wife left for Warsaw a week after the ball. Their +place was taken by Hirschgold's agent, a freckle-faced Jew, who +installed himself in a small room in the bailiffs house, spent his days +in looking through and sending out accounts, and bolted the door and +slept with two revolvers under his pillow at night. + +The squire had taken part of the furniture with him, the rest of the +suites and fixtures were sold to the neighbouring gentry; the Jews +bought up the library by the pound, the priest acquired the American +organ, the garden-seats passed into Gryb's ownership, and for three +roubles the peasant Orzchewski became possessed of the large engraving +of Leda and the Swan, to which the purchaser and his family said their +prayers. The inlaid floors henceforward decorated the magisterial +court, and the damask hangings were bought by the tailors and made into +bodices for the village girls. + +When Slimak went a few weeks later to have a look at the manor-house he +could not believe his eyes at the sight of the destruction that had +taken place. There were no panes in the windows and not a single latch +left on the wide-open doors; the walls had been stripped and the floors +taken up. The drawing-room was a dungheap, Pani Joselawa, the +innkeeper's wife, had put up hencoops there and in the adjoining rooms; +axes and saws were lying about everywhere. The farmhands, who according +to agreement were kept on till midsummer, strolled idly from corner to +corner; one of the teamdrivers had taken desperately to drink; the +housekeeper was ill with fever, and the pantryboy, as well as one of +the farm-boys, were in prison for stealing latches off the doors. + +'Good God!' said the peasant. + +He was seized with fear at the thought of the unknown power which had +ruined the ancient manor-house in a moment. An invisible cloud seemed +to be hanging over the valley and the village; the first flash of +lightning had struck and completely shattered the seat of its owners. + +Some days later the neighbourhood began to swarm with strangers, +woodcutters and sawyers, mostly Germans. They walked and drove in +crowds along the road past Slimak's cottage; sometimes they marched in +detachments like soldiers. They were quartered at the manor, where they +turned out the servants and the remaining cattle: they occupied every +corner. At night they lit great fires in the courtyard, and in the +morning they all walked off to the woods. At first it was difficult to +guess what they were doing. Soon, however, there was a distant echo as +of someone drumming with his fingers on the table; at last the sound of +the axe and the thud of falling trees was heard quite plainly. Fresh +inroads on the wavy contour of the forest appeared continually; first +crevices, then windows, then wide openings, and for the first time +since the world was the world, the astonished sky looked into the +valley from that side. + +The wood fell: only the sky remained and the earth with a few juniper +bushes and countless rows of tree-trunks, hastily stripped of their +branches. The rapacious axe had not spared one of the leafy tribe. Not +one--not even the centenarian oak which had been touched by lightning +more than once. Gazing upwards, this defier of storms had hardly +noticed the worms turning round its feet, and the blows of their axes +meant no more to it than the tapping of the woodpecker. It fell +suddenly, convinced at the last that the world was insecure after all, +and not worth living in. + +There was another oak, half withered, on the branches of which the +unfortunate Simon Golamb[1] had hanged himself; the people passed it in +fear. + +[Footnote 1: Polish spelling: _Gotab_.] + +'Flee!' it murmured, when the woodcutters approached. 'I bring you +death; only one man dared to touch my branches, and he died.' But the +woodcutters paid no heed, deeper and deeper they sent the sharp axe +into its heart, and with a roar it swayed and fell. + +The night-wind moaned over the corpses of the strong trees, and the +birds and wild creatures, deprived of their native habitations, +mourned. + +Older still than the oaks were the huge boulders thickly sown over the +fields. The peasants had never touched them; they were too heavy to be +removed; moreover, there was a superstition that the rebellious devils +had in the first days of the creation thrown these stones at the +angels, and that it was unlucky to touch them. Overgrown with moss they +each lay in an island of green grass; the shepherds lit their fires +beneath them on chilly nights, the ploughmen lay down in their shade on +a hot afternoon, the hawker would sometimes hide his treasures +underneath them. + +Now their last hour had struck too; men began to busy themselves about +them. At first the village people thought that the 'Swabians' were +looking for treasure; but Jendrek found out that they were boring holes +in the venerable stones. + +'What are the idiots doing that for?' asked Slimakowa. 'Blessed if I +know what's the good of that to them!' + +'I know, neighbour,' said old Sobieska, blinking her eyes; 'they are +boring because they have heard that there are toads inside those big +stones.' + +'And what if there are?' + +'You see, they want to know if it's true.' + +'But what's that to them?' + +'I'll be hanged if I know!' retorted Sobieska in such a decided tone +that Slimakowa considered the matter as settled. + +The Germans, however, were not looking for toads. Before long such a +cannonading began that the echoes reached the farthest ends of the +valley, telling every one that not even the rocks were able to +withstand the Germans. + +'Those Swabians are a hard race,' muttered Slimak, as he gazed on the +giants that had been dashed to pieces. He thought of the colonists for +whom the property had been bought, and who now wanted his land as well. + +'They are not anywhere about,' he thought; 'perhaps they won't come +after all.' + +But they came. + +One morning, early in April, Slimak went out before sunrise as usual to +say his prayers in the open. The east was flushed with pink, the stars +were paling, only the morning star shone like a jewel, and was welcomed +from below by the awakening birds. + +The peasant's lips moved in prayer, while he fixed his eyes on the +white mist which covered the ground like snow. Then it was that he +heard a distant sound from beyond the hills, a rumble of carts and the +voices of many people. He quickly walked up the lonely pine hill and +perceived a long procession of carts covered with awnings, filled with +human beings and their domestic and agricultural implements. Men in +navy-blue coats and straw hats were walking beside them, cows were tied +behind, and small herds of pigs were scrambling in and out of the +procession. A little cart, scarcely larger than a child's, brought up +the rear; it was drawn by a dog and a woman, and conveyed a man whose +feet were dangling down in front. + +'The Swabians are coming!' flashed through Slimak's mind, but he put +the thought away from him. + +'Maybe they are gipsies,' he argued. But no--they were not dressed like +gipsies, and woodcutters don't take cattle about with them--then who +were they? + +He shrank from the thought that the colonists were actually coming. + +'Maybe it's they, maybe not...' he whispered. + +For a moment a hill concealed them from his view, and he hoped that the +vision had dissolved into the light of day. But there they were again, +and each step of their lean horses brought them nearer. The sun was +gilding the hill which they were ascending, and the larks were singing +brightly to welcome them. + +Across the valley the church bell was ringing. Was it calling to +prayers as usual, or did it warn the people of the invasion of a +foreign power? + +Slimak looked towards the village. The cottage-doors were closed, no +one was astir, and even if he had shouted aloud, 'Look, gospodarze, the +Germans are here!' no one would have been alarmed. + +The string of noisy people now began to file past Slimak's cottage. The +tired horses were walking slowly, the cows could scarcely lift their +feet, the pigs squeaked and stumbled. But the people were happy, +laughing and shouting from cart to cart. They turned round by the +bridge on to the open ground. + +The small cart in the rear had now reached Slimak's gate; the big dog +fell down panting, the man raised himself to a sitting position and the +girl took the strap from her shoulder and wiped her perspiring +forehead. Slimak was seized with pity for them; he came down from the +hill and approached the travellers. + +'Where do you all come from? Who are you?' he asked. + +'We are colonists from beyond the Vistula,' the girl answered. 'Our +people have bought land here, and we have come with them.' + +'But have not you bought land also?' + +The woman shrugged her shoulders. + +'Is it the custom with you for the women to drag the men about?' + +'What can we do? we have no horses and my father cannot walk on his own +feet.' + +'Is your father lame?' + +'Yes.' + +The peasant reflected for a moment. + +'Then he is hanging on to the others, as it were?' + +'Oh no,' replied the girl with much spirit, 'father teaches the +children and I take in sewing, and when there is no sewing to do I work +in the fields.' + +Slimak looked at her with surprise and said, after a pause: 'You can't +be German, you talk our language very well.' + +'We are from Germany.' + +'Yes, we are Germans,' said the man in the cart, speaking for the first +time. + +Slimakowa and Jendrek now came out of the cottage and joined the group +at the gate. + +'What a strong dog!' cried Jendrek. + +'Look here,' said Slimak, 'this lady has dragged her lame father a long +way in the cart; would you do that, you scamp?' + +'Why should I? Haven't they any horses, dad?' + +'We have had horses,' murmured the man in the cart, 'but we haven't any +now.' + +He was pale and thin, with red hair and beard. + +'Wouldn't you like to rest and have something to eat after your long +journey?' inquired Slimak. + +'I don't want anything to eat, but my father would like some milk.' + +'Run and get some milk, Jendrek,' cried Slimak. + +'Meaning no offence,' said Slimakowa, 'but you Germans can't have a +country of your own, or else you wouldn't come here.' + +'This is our home,' the girl replied. 'I was born in this country, the +other side of the Vistula.' + +Her father made an impatient movement and said in a broken voice: 'We +Germans have a country of our own, larger than yours, but it's not +pleasant to live in: too many people, too little land; it's difficult +to make a living, and we have to pay heavy taxes and do hard military +service, and there are penalties for everything.' + +He coughed and continued after a pause: 'Everybody wants to be +comfortable and live as he pleases, and not as others tell him. It's +not pleasant to live in our country, so we've come here.' + +Jendrek brought the milk and offered it to the girl, who gave it to her +father. + +'God repay you!' sighed the invalid; 'the people in this country are +kind.' + +'I wish you would not do us harm,' said Slimakowa in a half-whisper. + +'Why should we do you harm?' said the man. 'Do we take your land? do we +steal? do we murder you? We are quiet people, we get in nobody's way so +long as nobody gets...' + +'You have bought the land here,' Slimak interrupted. + +'But why did your squire sell it to us? If thirty peasants had been +settled here instead of one man, who did nothing but squander his +money, our people would not have come. Why did not you yourselves form +a community and buy the village? Your money would have been as good as +ours. You have been settled here for ages, but the colonists had to +come in before you troubled about the land, and then no sooner have +they bought it than they become a stumbling-block to you! Why wasn't +the squire a stumbling-block to you?' + +Breathless, he paused and looked at his wasted arms, then continued: +'To whom is it that the colonists resell their land? To you peasants! +On the other side of the Vistula[1] the peasants bought up every scrap +of our land.' + +[Footnote 1: i.e. in Prussian Poland. One of the Polish people's +grievances is that the large properties are not sold direct to them but +to the colonists, and the peasants have to buy the land from them. +Statistics show that in spite of the great activity of the German +Colonization Commission more and more land is constantly acquired by +the Polish peasants, who hold on to the land tenaciously.] + +'One of your lot is always after me to sell him my land,' said Slimak. + +'To think of such a thing!' interposed his wife. 'Who is he?' + +'How should I know? there are two of them, and they came twice, an old +man and one with a beard. They want my hill to put up a windmill, they +say.' + +'That's Hamer,' said the girl under her breath to her father. + +'Oh, Hamer,' repeated the invalid, 'he has caused us difficulties +enough. Our people wanted to go to the other side of the Bug, where +land only costs thirty roubles an acre, but he persuaded them to come +here, because they are building a railway across the valley. So our +people have been buying land here at seventy roubles an acre and have +been running into debt with the Jew, and we shall see what comes of +it.' + +The girl meanwhile had been eating coarse bread, sharing it with the +dog. She now looked across to where the colonists were spreading +themselves over the fields. + +'We must go, father,' she said. + +'Yes, we must go; what do I owe you for the milk, gospodarz?' + +The peasant shrugged his shoulders. + +'If we were obliged to take money for a little thing like that, I +shouldn't have asked you.' + +'Well, God repay you!' + +'God speed you,' said Slimak and his wife. + +'Strange folk, those Germans,' he said, when they had slowly moved off. +'He is a clever man, yet he goes about in that little cart like an old +beggar.' + +'And the girl!' said Slimakowa, 'whoever heard of dragging an old man +about, as if you were a horse.' + +'They're not bad,' said Slimak, returning to his cottage. + +The conversation with the Germans had reassured him that they were not +as terrible as he had fancied. + +When Maciek went out after breakfast to plough the potato-fields, +Slimak slipped off. + +'You've got to put up the fence!' his wife called out after him. + +'That won't run away,' he answered, and banged the door, fearful lest +his wife should detain him. + +He crouched as he ran through the yard, wishing to attract her +attention as little as possible, and went stealthily up the hill to +where Maciek was perspiring over his ploughing. + +'How about those Swabians?' asked the labourer. + +Slimak sat down on the slope so that he could not be seen from the +cottage, and pulled out his pipe. + +'You might sit over there,' Maciek said, pointing with his whip to a +raised place; 'then I could smell the smoke.' + +'What's the good of the smoke to you? I'll give you my pipe to finish, +and meanwhile it does not grieve the old woman to see me sitting here +wasting my time.' He lit his pipe very deliberately, rested his elbows +on his knees and his head in his hands and looked into the valley, +watching the crowd of Germans. + +With their covered carts they had enclosed a square into which they had +driven their cattle and horses; inside and outside of this the people +were bustling about. Some put a portable manger on a stand and fed the +cows, others ran to the river with buckets. The women brought out their +saucepans and little sacks of vegetables and a crowd of children ran +down the ravine for fuel. + +'What crowds of children they have!' said Slimak; 'we have not as many +in the whole village.' + +'Thick as lice,' said Maciek. + +Slimak could not wonder enough. Yesterday the field had been empty and +quiet, to-day it was like a fair. People by the river, people in the +ravines, people on the fields, who chop the bushes, carry wood, make +fires, feed and water the animals! One man had already opened a +retail-shop on a cart and was obviously doing good business. The women +were pressing round him, buying salt, sugar, vinegar. Some young +mothers had made cradles of shawls, suspended on short pitchforks, and +while they were cooking with one hand they rocked the cradle with the +other. There was a veterinary surgeon, too, who examined the foot of a +lame horse, and a barber was shaving an old Swabian on the step of his +cart. + +'Do you notice how quickly they work? It's farther for them to fetch +the firewood than for us, yet we take half the day over it and they do +it before you can say two prayers.' + +'Oh! oh!' said Maciek, who seemed to feel this remark as an aspersion. + +'But, then, they work together, 'continued Slimak; 'when our people go +out in a crowd every one attends to his own business, and rests when he +likes or gets into the way of the others. But these dogs work together +as if they were used to each other; if one of them were to lie down on +the ground the others would cram work into his hand and stand over him +till he had finished it. Watch them yourself.' + +He gave his pipe to Maciek and returned to the cottage. + +'They are quick folk, those Swabians,' he muttered, 'and clever!' +Within half an hour he had discovered the two secrets of modern work: +organization and speed. + +About noon two colonists came to the gospodarstwo and asked Slimak to +sell them butter and potatoes and hay. He let them have the former +without bargaining, but he refused the hay. + +'Let us at least have a cartload of straw,' they asked with their +foreign accent. + +'I won't. I haven't got any.' + +The men got angry. + +'That scoundrel Hamer is giving us no end of trouble,' one cried, +dashing his cap on the ground; 'he told us we should get fodder and +everything at the farms. We can't get any at the manor either; the Jews +from the inn are there and won't stir from the place.' + +Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two +Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists +rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating +wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in +their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order. + +The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and +attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had +finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last +they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and +departed cheerfully. + +'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we +come to terms yet?' + +'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to +us of his own accord!' + +'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set +on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after +the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't +stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same +and to smooth things over.' + +'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?' +returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take +your land away from you.... I can't make you out!' + +'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob +me.' + +'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.' + +'That's God's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but +when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the +woodpeckers on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The +squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the +Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree +is still the tree.' + +The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her +demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'. + +'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you +the news.' + +She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on +his finger. + +'Oh, Lord!' she cried, when she had drained it, 'this is the judgment +day for some people in the village! You see, Gryb and Orzchewski had +always taken for granted that the colonists wouldn't come, and they had +meant to drive a little bargain between them and keep some of the best +land and settle Jasiek Gryb on it like a nobleman, and he was to marry +Orzchewski's Paulinka. You know, she had learnt embroidery from the +squire's wife, and Jasiek had been doing work in the bailiff's office +and now goes about in an overcoat on high-days and holidays and...give +me another thimbleful, or I shall feel faint and can't talk.... +Meanwhile, as I told you, the colonists had paid down half the money to +the Jew, and here they are, that's certain! When Gryb hears of it, he +comes and abuses Josel! "You cur of a Jew, you Caiaphas, you have +crucified Christ and now you are cheating me! You told me the Germans +wouldn't pay up, and here they are!" Whereupon Josel says: "We don't +know yet whether they will stay!" At first Gryb wouldn't listen and +shouted and banged his fists on the table, but at last Josel drew him +off to his room with Orzchewski, and they made some arrangement among +themselves.' + +'He's a fool,' said Slimak; 'he wasn't cute enough to buy the land, he +won't be able to cope with the Germans.' + +'Not cute enough?' cried the old woman. 'Give me a thimbleful...Josel's +clever enough, anyway...and his brother-in-law is even better...they'll +deal with the Swabians...I know what I know...give me a +thimbleful...give me a thim...' She became incoherent. + +'What was that she was saying?' asked Slimakowa. + +'The usual things she says when she's tipsy. She is in service with +Josel, so she thinks him almighty.' + +When night came, Slimak again went to look at the camp. The people had +retired under their awnings, the cattle were lying down inside the +square, only the horses were grazing in the fields and ravines. At +times a flame from the camp fires flared up, or a horse neighed; from +hour to hour the call of a sleepy watchman was heard. + +Slimak returned and threw himself on his bed, but could find no rest. +The darkness deprived him of energy, and he thought with fear of the +Germans who were so many and he but one. Might they not attack him or +set his house on fire? + +About midnight a shot rang out, followed by another. He ran into the +back-yard and came upon the equally frightened Maciek. Shouts, curses, +and the clatter of horses' hoofs came from beyond the river. Gradually +the noise subsided. + +Slimak learned in the morning from the colonists that horse-thieves had +stolen in among the horses. + +The peasant was taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in +the neighbourhood. + +The news of the attack spread like wildfire and was improved upon in +every village. It was said that there was a gang of horse-stealers +about, who removed the horses to Prussia; that the Germans had fought +with them all night, and that some had been killed. + +At last these rumours reached the ears of the police-sergeant, who +harnessed his fat mare, put a small cask and some empty bags into his +cart, and drove off in pursuit of the thieves. + +The Germans treated him to smoked ham and excellent brandy, and Fritz +Hamer explained that they suspected two discharged manor-servants, Kuba +Sukiennik and Jasiek Eogacz, of stealing the horses. + +'They have been arrested before for stealing locks off the doors, but +had to be released because there were no witnesses,' said the sergeant. +'Which of the gentlemen shot at them? Has he a licence to carry +firearms?' + +Hamer, seeing that the question was becoming ticklish, led him aside +and explained things so satisfactorily to him that he soon drove off, +recommending that watch should be kept, and that the colonists should +not carry firearms. + +'I suppose your farm will soon be standing, sir?' he asked. + +'In a month's time,' replied Hamer. + +'Capital!...we must make a day of it!' + +He drove on to the manor-house, where Hirschgold's agent was so +delighted to see him that he brought out a bottle of Crimean wine. On +the topic of thieves, however, he had no explanation to offer. + +'When I heard them shooting I at once snatched up my revolvers, one in +each hand, and I didn't close my eyes all night.' + +'And have you a licence to carry firearms?' + +'Why shouldn't I?' + +'For two?' + +'Oh well, the second is broken; I only keep it for show.' + +'How many workmen do you employ?' + +'About a hundred.' + +'Are all their passports in order?' + +The agent gave him a most satisfactory account as to this in his own +way and the sergeant took leave. + +'Be careful, sir,' he recommended, 'once robbery begins in the village +it will be difficult to stop it. And in case of accident you will do +well to let me know first before you do anything.' He said this so +impressively that the agent henceforward took the two Jews from the +manor-house to sleep in the bailiff's cottage. + +Slimak's gospodarstwo was the sergeant's next destination. Slimakowa +was just pouring out the peeled-barley soup when the stout +administrator of the law entered. + +'The Lord be praised,' he said. 'What news?' + +'In Eternity. We are all right.' + +The sergeant looked round. + +'Is your husband at home?' + +'Where else should he be? Fetch your father, Jendrek.' + +'Beautiful barley; is it your own?' + +'Of course it is.' + +'You might give me a sackful. I'll pay you next time I come.' + +'I'll get the bag at once, sir.' + +'Perhaps you can sell me a chicken as well?' + +'We can.' + +'Mind it's tender, and put it under the box.' + +Slimak came in. 'Have you heard, gospodarz, who it was that tried to +steal the horses?' + +'How should I know?' + +'They say in the village that it was Sukiennik and Rogacz.' + +'I don't know about that. I have heard they cannot find work here, +because they have been in prison.' + +'Have you got any vodka? The dust makes one's throat dry.' + +Vodka and bread and cheese were brought. + +'You'd better be careful,' he said, when he departed, 'for they will +either rob you or suspect you.' + +'By God's grace no one has ever robbed me, and it will never happen.' + +The sergeant went to Josel, who received him enthusiastically. He +invited him into the parlour and assured him that all his licences were +in order. + +'There is no signboard at the gate.' + +'I'll put one up at once of whatever kind you like,' said the innkeeper +obsequiously, and ordered a bottle of porter. + +The sergeant now opened the question of the night-attack. + +'What night-attack?' jeered Josel. 'The Germans shot at one another and +then got frightened and made out that there was a gang of robbers +about. Such things don't happen here.' + +The sergeant wiped his moustache. 'All the same Sukiennik and Rogacz +have been after the horses.' + +Josel made a wry face. 'How could they, when they were in my house that +night.' + +'In your house?' + +'To be sure,' Josel answered carelessly. 'Gryb and Orzchewski both saw +them...dead drunk they were. What are they to do? they can't get +regular work, and what a man perchance earns in a day he likes to drink +away at night.' + +'They might have got out.' + +'They might, but the stable was locked and the key with the foreman.' +The conversation passed on to other topics. + +'Look after Sukiennik and Rogacz,' the sergeant said, on his departure, +when he and his mare had been sufficiently rested. + +'Am I their father, or are they in my service?' + +'They might rob you.' + +'Oh! I'll see to that all right!' + +The sergeant returned home, half asleep, half awake. Sukiennik and +Rogacz kept passing before his vision; they had their hands full of +locks and were surrounded by horses. Josel's smiling face was hovering +over them and now and then old Gryb and his son Jasiek jeered from +behind a cloud. He sat up...startled. But there was nothing near him +except the white hen under the box and the trees by the wayside. He +spat. + +'Bah...dreams!' he muttered. + +The peasants were relieved when day after day passed and there was no +sign of building in the camp. They jumped to the conclusion that either +the Germans had not been able to come to terms with Hirschgold, or had +quarrelled with the Hamers, or that they had lost heart because of the +horse-thieves. + +'Why, they haven't so much as measured out the ground!' cried +Orzchewski, and washed down the remark with a huge glass of beer. + +He had, however, not yet wiped his mouth when a cart pulled up at the +inn and the surveyor alighted. They knew him directly by his +moustaches, which were trimmed to the resemblance of eels, and by his +sloeberry-coloured nose. + +While Gryb and Orzchewski sorrowfully conducted each other home, they +comforted themselves with the thought that the surveyor might only be +spending the night in the village on his way elsewhere. + +'God grant it, I want to see that young scamp of a Jasiek settled and +married, and if I let him out of my sight he goes to the dogs +directly.' + +'My Paulinka is a match for him; she'll look after him!' + +'You don't know what you're talking of, neighbour; it will take the +three of us to look after him. Lately he hasn't spent a single night at +home, and sometimes I don't see him for a week.' + +The surveyor started work in the manor-fields the next morning, and for +several days was seen walking about with a crowd of Germans in +attendance on all his orders, carrying his poles, putting up a portable +table, providing him with an umbrella or a place in the shade where he +could take long pulls out of his wicker flask. The peasants stood +silently watching them. + +'I could measure as well as that if I drank as much as he does,' said +one of them. + +'Ah, but that is why he is a surveyor,' said another, 'because he has a +strong head.' + +No sooner had he departed than the Germans drove off and returned with +heavy cartloads of building materials. One fine day a small troop of +masons and carpenters appeared with their implements. A party of +colonists went out to meet them, followed by a large crowd of women and +children. They met at an appointed place, where refreshments and a +barrel of beer had been provided. + +Old Hamer, in a faded drill-jacket, Fritz in a black coat, and Wilhelm, +adorned with a scarlet waistcoat with red flowers, were busy welcoming +the guests; Wilhelm had charge of the barrel of beer. + +Maciek had noticed these preparations and gave the alarm, and all the +inhabitants of the gospodarstwo watched the proceedings with the +keenest interest. They saw old Hamer taking up a stake and driving it +into the ground with a wooden hammer. + +'Hoch!...Hoch!' shouted the workmen. Hamer bowed, took a second stake +and carried it northwards, accompanied by the crowd. The women and +children were headed by the schoolmaster in his little cart. He now +lifted his cap high into the air, and at this sign the whole crowd +started to sing Luther's hymn: + + 'A stronghold sure our God remains, + A shield and hope unfailing, + In need His help our freedom gains, + O'er all our fear prevailing; + Our old malignant foe + Would fain work us woe; + With craft and great might + He doth against us fight, + On earth is no one like him.' + +At the first note Slimak had taken off his cap, his wife crossed +herself, and Maciek stepped aside and knelt down. Stasiek, with +wide-open eyes, began to tremble, and Jendrek started running down the +hill, waded through the river, and headed at full speed for the camp. + +While Hamer was driving the stake into the ground the procession, +slowly coming up to him, continued: + + 'Our utmost might is all in vain, + We straight had been rejected, + But for us fights the perfect Man + By God Himself elected; + Ye ask: Who may He be? + The Lord Christ is He! + The God, by hosts ador'd, + Our great Incarnate Lord, + Who all His foes will vanquish.' + +Never had the peasants heard a hymn like this, so solemn, yet so +triumphant, they who only knew their plainsongs, which rose to heaven +like a great groan: 'Lord, we lay our guilt before Thine eyes.' + +A cry from Stasiek roused the parents from their reverie. + +'Mother...mother...they are singing!' stammered the child; his lips +became blue, and he fell to the ground. + +The frightened parents lifted him up and carried him into the cottage, +where he recovered when the singing ceased. They had always known that +the singing at church affected him very deeply, but they had never seen +him like this. + +Jendrek, meanwhile, although wet through and cold, stood riveted by the +spectacle he was watching. Why were these people walking and singing +like this? Surely, they wanted to drive away some evil power from their +future dwellings, and, not having incense or blessed chalk, they were +using stakes. Well, after all, a club of oakwood was better against the +devil than chalk! Or were they themselves bewitching the place? + +He was struck with the difference in the behaviour of the Germans. The +old men, women, and children were walking along solemnly, singing, but +the young fellows and the workmen stood in groups, smoking and +laughing. Once they made a noisy interruption when Wilhelm Hamer, who +presided at the beer-barrel, lifted up his glass. The young men shouted +'Hoch! hurrah!' Old Hamer looked round disapprovingly, and the +schoolmaster shook his fist. + +As the procession drew near, Jendrek heard a woman's voice above the +children's shrill trebles, Hamer's guttural bass and the old people's +nasal tones; it was clear, full, and inexpressively moving. It made his +heart tremble within him. The sounds shaped themselves in his +imagination to the picture of a beautiful weeping-willow. + +He knew that it must be the voice of the schoolmaster's daughter, whom +he had seen before. At that time the dog had engaged his attention more +than the girl, but now her voice took entire possession of the boy's +soul, to the exclusion of everything else he heard or saw. He, too, +wanted to sing, and began under his breath: + + 'The Lord is ris'n to-day. + The Lord Jesus Christ...' + +It seemed to fit in with the melody which the Germans were just +singing. + +He was roused from this state by the young men's voices; he caught +sight of the schoolmaster's daughter and unconsciously moved towards +her. But the young man soon brought him to his senses. They pulled his +hat over his ears, pushed him into the middle of the crowd, and, wet, +smeared with sand, looking more like a scarecrow than a boy, he was +passed from hand to hand like a ball. Suddenly his eyes met those of +the girl, and a wild spirit awoke in him. He kicked one young man over +with his bare legs, tore the shirt off another one's back, butted old +Hamer in the stomach, and then stood with clenched fists in the space +he had cleared, looking where he might break through. Most of the men +laughed at him, but some were for handling him roughly. Fortunately old +Hamer recognized him. + +'Why, youngster, what are you up to?' + +'They're bullying me,' he said, while the tears were rising in his +throat. + +'Don't you come from that cottage? What are you doing here?' + +'I wanted to listen to your singing, but those scoundrels...' + +He stopped suddenly when he saw the grey eyes of the schoolmaster's +daughter fixed on him. She offered him the glass of beer she had been +drinking from. + +'You are wet through,' she said. 'Take a good pull.' + +'I don't want it,' said the boy, and felt ashamed directly; it did not +seem well-mannered to speak rudely to one so beautiful. + +'I might get tipsy...' he cried, but drained the glass, looked at her +again and blushed so deeply that the girl smiled sadly as she looked at +him. + +At that moment violins and cellos struck up; Wilhelm Hamer came heavily +bounding along and took the girl away to dance. Her yearning eyes once +more rested on Jendrek's face. + +He felt that something strange was happening to him. A terrible anger +and sorrow gripped him by the throat; he wanted to throw himself on +Wilhelm and tear his flowered waistcoat off his back; at the same time +he wanted to cry aloud. Suddenly he turned to go. + +'Are you going?' asked the schoolmaster. 'Give my compliments to your +father.' + +'And you can tell him from me that I have rented the field by the river +from Midsummer Day,' Hamer called after him. + +'But dad rented it from the squire!' Hamer laughed...'The squire! We +are the squires now, and the field is mine.' + +As Jendrek neared the road he came upon a peasant, hidden behind a +bush, who had been watching. It was Gryb. + +'Be praised,' said Jendrek. + +'Who's praised at your place?' growled the old man; 'it must be the +devil and not the Lord, since you are taking up with the Germans.' + +'Who's taking up with them?' + +The peasant's eyes flashed and his dry skin quivered. + +'You're taking up with them!' he cried, shaking his fist, 'or perhaps I +didn't see you running off to them like a dog through the water to +cadge for a glass of beer, nor your father and mother on the hill +praying with the Swabians...praying to the devil! God has punished them +already, for something has fallen on Stasiek. There will be more to +come...you wait!' + +Jendrek slowly walked home, puzzled and sad. When he returned to the +cottage, he found Stasiek lying ill. He told his father what Gryb had +said. + +'He's an old fool,' replied Slimak. 'What! should a man stand like a +beast when others are praying, even if they are Swabians?' + +'But their praying has bewitched Stasiek.' Slimak looked gloomy. + +'Why should it have been their prayers? Stasiek is easily upset. Let a +woman but sing in the fields and he'll begin to shake all over.' + +The matter ended there. Jendrek tried to busy himself about the +cottage, but he felt stifled indoors. He roamed about in the ravines, +stood on the hill and watched the Germans, or forced his way through +brambles. Wherever he went, the image of the schoolmaster's daughter +went with him; he saw her tanned face, grey eyes, and graceful +movements. Sometimes her powerful, entrancing voice seemed to come to +him as from a depth. + +'Has she cast a spell over me?' he whispered, frightened, and continued +to think of her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Slimak had never been so well off as he was that spring; money was +flowing into his chest while he took his leisure and looked around him +at all the new things. + +Formerly, after a heavy day, he had thrown himself on his bed and had +scarcely fallen asleep like a stone when his wife would pull the cover +off him, crying: 'Get up, Josef; it is morning.' + +'How can it be morning?' he thought; 'I've only just lain down.' All +the same he had to gather his bones together, when each one +individually held to the bed; willy-nilly he had to get up. So hard was +the resolution sometimes, that he even thought with pleasure of the +eternal sleep, when his wife would no longer stand over him and urge: +'Get up, wash...you'll be late; they'll take it off your wages.' + +Then he would dress, and drag the equally tired horses out of the +stable, so overcome with sleep that he would pause on the threshold and +mutter, 'I shall stay at home!' But he was afraid of his wife, and he +also knew very well that he could not make both ends meet at the +gospodarstwo without his wages. + +Now all that was different. He slept as long as he liked. Sometimes his +wife pulled him by the leg from habit and said: 'Get up, Josef.' But, +opening only one eye, lest sleep should run away from him, he would +growl: 'Leave me alone!' and sleep, maybe, till the church bell rang +for Mass at seven o'clock. + +There was really nothing to get up for now. Maciek had long ago +finished the spring-work in the fields; the Jews had left the village, +carrying their business farther afield, following the new railway line +now under construction, and no one sent for him from the manor--for +there was no manor. He smoked, strolled about for days together in the +yard, or looked at the abundantly sprouting corn. His favourite +pastime, however, was to watch the Germans, whose habitations were +shooting up like mushrooms. + +By the end of May Hamer and two or three others had finished building, +and their gospodarstwos were pleasant to look at. They resembled each +other like drops of water; each one stood in the middle of its fields, +the garden was by the roadside, shut off by a wooden fence; the house, +roughcast, consisted of four large rooms, and behind it was a good- +sized square of farm-buildings. + +All the buildings were larger and loftier than those of the Polish +peasants, and were clean and comfortable, although they looked stiff +and severe; for while the roofs of the Polish gospodarstwos overhung on +the four sides, those of the Germans did so only at the front and back. + +But they had large windows, divided into six squares, and the doors +were made by the carpenter. Jendrek, who daily ran over to the +settlement reported that there were wooden floors, and that the kitchen +was a separate room with an iron-plated stove. + +Slimak sometimes dreamt that he would build a place like that, only +with a different roof. Then he would jump up, because he felt he ought +to go somewhere and do work, for he was bored and ashamed of idling; at +times he would long for the manor-fields over which he had guided the +plough, where the settlement now stood. Then a great fear would seize +him that he would be powerless when the Germans, who had felled +forests, shattered rocks and driven away the squire, should start on +him in earnest. + +But he always reassured himself. He had been neighbours with them now +for two months and they had done him no harm. They worked quietly, +minded their cattle so that they should not stray, and even their +children were not troublesome, but went to school at Hamer's house, +where the infirm schoolmaster kept them in order. + +'They are respectable people,' he satisfied himself. 'I'm better off +with them than with the squire.' + +He was, for they bought from him and paid well. In less than a month he +had taken a hundred roubles from them; at the manor this had meant a +whole year's toil. + +'Do you think, Josef, that the Germans will always go on buying from +you?' his wife asked from time to time. 'They have their own +gospodarstwos now, and better ones than yours; you will see, it will +last through the summer at the best, and after that they won't buy a +stick from us.' + +'We shall see,' said the peasant. + +He was secretly counting on the advantages which he would reap from the +building of the new line; had not the engineer promised him this? He +even laid in provisions with this object, having to go farther afield, +for the peasants in the village would no longer sell him anything. + +But he soon realized that prices had risen; the Germans had long ago +scoured the neighbourhood and bought without bargaining. + +Once he met Josel who, instead of smiling maliciously at him as usual, +asked him to enter into a business transaction with him. + +'What sort of business?' asked Slimak. + +'Build a cottage on your land for my brother-in-law.' + +'What for?' + +'He wants to set up a shop and deal with the railway people, else the +Germans will take away all the business from under our noses.' + +Slimak reflected. + +'No, I don't want a Jew on my land,' he said. 'I shouldn't be the first +to be eaten up by you longcurls.' + +'You don't want to live with a Jew, but you are not afraid to pray with +the Germans,' said the Jew, pale with anger. + +Slimak was made to feel the profound unpopularity he had incurred in +the village. At church on Sundays hardly anyone answered him 'In +Eternity', and when he passed a group he would hear loud talk of +heresy, and God's judgment which would follow. + +He therefore ordered a Mass one Sunday, on the advice of his wife, and +went to confession with her and Jendrek; but this did not improve +matters, for the villagers discussed over their beer in the evening +what deadly sin he might have been guilty of to go to confession and +pray so fervently. + +Even old Sobieska rarely appeared and came furtively to ask for her +vodka. Once, when her tongue was loosened, she said: 'They say you have +turned into a Lutheran...It's true,' she added, 'there is only one +merciful God, still, the Germans are a filthy thing!' + + + +The Germans now began mysteriously to disappear with their carts at +dawn of day, carrying large quantities of provisions with them. Slimak +investigated this matter, getting up early himself. Soon he saw a tiny +yellow speck in the direction which they had taken. It grew larger +towards evening, and he became convinced that it was the approaching +railway line. + +'The scoundrels!' he said to his wife, 'they've been keeping this +secret so as to steal a march on me, but I shall drive over.' + +'Well, look sharp!' cried his wife; 'those railway people were to have +been our best customers.' + +He promised to go next day, but overslept himself, and Slimakowa barely +succeeded in driving him off the day after. + +He gathered some information on the way from the peasants. Many of them +had volunteered for work, but only a few had been taken on, and those +had soon returned, tired out. + +'It's dogs' work, not men's,' they told him; 'yet it might be worth +your while taking the horses, for carters earn four roubles a day.' + +'Four roubles a day!' thought Slimak, laying on to the horses. + +He drove on smartly and soon came alongside the great mounds of clay on +which strangers were at work, huge, strong, bearded men, wheeling large +barrows. Slimak could not wonder enough at their strength and industry. + +'Certainly, none of our men would do this,' he thought. + +No one paid any attention to him or spoke to him. At last two Jews +caught sight of him and one asked: 'What do you want, gospodarz?' The +embarrassed peasant twisted his cap in his hands. + +'I came to ask whether the gentlemen wanted any barley or lard?' + +'My dear man,' said the Jew, 'we have our regular contractors; a nice +mess we should be in, if we had to buy every sack of barley from the +peasants!' + +'They must be great people,' thought Slimak, 'they won't buy from the +peasants, they must be buying from the gentry.' + +So he bowed to the ground before the Jew, who was on the point of +walking away. + +'I entreat the favour of being allowed to cart for the gentlemen.' + +This humility pleased the Jew. + +'Go over there, my dear fellow,' he said, 'perhaps they will take you +on.' + +Slimak bowed again and made his way through the crowd with difficulty. +Among other carts he saw those of the settlers. + +Fritz Hamer came forward to meet him; he seemed to be in a position of +some authority there. + +'What do you want?' he asked. + +'I want a job too.' The settler frowned. + +'You won't get one here!' + +Seeing that Slimak was looking round, he went to the inspector and +spoke to him. + +'No work for carters,' the latter at once shouted, 'no work! As it is +we have too many, you are only getting in people's way. Be off!' The +brutal way in which this order was given so bewildered the peasant +that, in turning, he almost upset his cart; he drove off at full speed, +feeling as if he had offended some great power which had worked enough +destruction already and was now turning hills into valleys and valleys +into hills. + +But gradually he reflected more calmly. People from the village had +been taken on, and he remembered seeing peasants' carts at the +embankment. Why had he been driven away? + +It was quite clear that some one wished to shut him out. + +'Curse the Judases, they're outdoing the Jews,' he muttered and felt a +horror of the Germans for the first time. + +He told his wife briefly that there was no work, and betook himself to +the settlement. Old Hamer seemed to be in the middle of a heated +argument with Hirschgold and two other men. When he caught sight of the +peasant he took them into the barn. + +'Sly dog,' murmured Slimak; 'he knows what I've come for. I'll tell him +straight to his face when he comes out.' + +But at every step his courage failed him more and more. He hesitated +between his desire to turn back and his unwillingness to lose a job; he +hung about the fences, and looked at the women digging in their +gardens. A murmur like the hum of a beehive caught his ears: one of the +windows in Hamer's house was open and he looked into a schoolroom. + +One of the children was reciting something in a clamorous voice, the +others were talking under their breath. The schoolmaster was standing +in the middle of the room, calling out 'Silence!' from time to time. + +When he saw Slimak, he beckoned to his daughter to take his place, and +the hubbub of voices increased. Slimak watched her trying to cope with +the children. + +The schoolmaster came up behind him, walking heavily. + +'Did you come to see how we teach our children?' he asked, smilingly. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Slimak; 'I've come to tell Hamer that he is +a scoundrel.' He related his experience. + +'What have I done?' he asked. 'Soon I may not be able to earn anything; +is one to starve because it pleases them?' + +'The truth is,' said the schoolmaster, 'that you are a thorn in their +flesh.' + +'Why?' + +'Your land is right in the middle of Hamer's fields and that spoils his +farm, but that is not the reason as much as your hill; he wants it for +a windmill. They have nothing but level ground; it's the best land in +the settlement, but no good for a windmill; if they don't put it up, +one of the other settlers will.' + +'And why are they so crazy after a windmill?' + +'Well, it matters a great deal to them; if Wilhelm had a windmill he +could marry Miller Knap's daughter from Wolka and get a thousand and +twenty roubles with her; the Hamers may go bankrupt without that money. +That's why you stick in their throats. If you sold them your land they +would pay you well.' + +'And I won't sell! I will neither help them to stay here nor do myself +harm for their benefit; when a man leaves the land of his fathers...' + +'There will be trouble,' the schoolmaster said earnestly. + +'Then let there be; I won't die because it pleases them.' + +Slimak returned home without any further wish to see Hamer; he knew +there could be no understanding between them. + + + +Maciek had discovered at dawn one morning that a crowd had reached the +river-bank by the ravines, and Slimak, hurrying thither, found some +gospodarze from the village among the men. + +'What is happening?' + +'They are going to throw up a dam and build a bridge across the +Bialka,' Wisniewski replied. + +'And what are you doing here?' + +'We have been taken on to cart sand.' + +Slimak discovered the Hamers in the crowd. + +'Nice neighbours you are!' he said bitterly, going up to them. 'Here +you are sending all the way to the village for carts, and you won't let +me have a job.' + +'We will send for you when you are living in the village,' Fritz +answered, and turned his back. + +An elderly gentleman was standing near them, and Slimak turned to him +and took off his cap. + +'Is this justice, sir?' he said. 'The Germans are getting rich on the +railway, and I don't earn a kopek. Last year two gentlemen came and +promised that I should make a lot of money. Well, your honours are +building the railway now, but I've never yet taken my horses out of the +stable. A German with thirty acres of ground is having a good job, and +I have only ten acres and a wife and children to keep, as well as the +farmhand and the girl. We shall have to starve, and it's all because +the Germans have a grudge against me.' + +He had spoken rapidly and breathlessly, and after a moment of surprise +the old man turned to Fritz Hamer. + +'Why did you not take him on?' + +Fritz looked insolently at him. + +'Is it you who has to answer for the cartage or I? Will you pay my +fines when the men fail me? I take on those whom I can trust.' + +The old man bit his lip, but did not reply. + +'I can't help you, my brother,' he said; 'you shall drive me as often +as I come to this neighbourhood. It isn't much, but every little helps. +Where do you live?' + +Slimak pointed to his cottage; he was longing to speak further, but the +old man turned to give some orders, and the peasant could only embrace +his knees. + +Old Hamer waylaid him on the way back. + +'Do you see now how badly you have done for yourself? You will do even +worse, for Fritz is furious.' + +'God is greater than Fritz.' + +'Will you take seventy-five roubles an acre and settle on the other +side of the Bug? You will have twice as much land.' + +'I would not go to the other side of the Bug for double the money; you +go, if you like!' + +When the angry men were looking back at each other, the one was +standing with a stubborn face, his pipe between his clenched teeth, the +other with folded arms, smiling sadly. Each was afraid of the other. + +The embankment was growing slowly from west to east. Before long +thousands of carriages would roll along its line with the speed of +birds, to enrich the powerful, shatter the poor, spread new customs and +manners, multiply crime...all this is called 'the advancement of +civilization'. But Slimak knew nothing of civilization and its boons, +and therefore looked upon this outcome of it as ominous. The +encroaching line seemed to him like the tongue of some vast reptile, +and the mounds of earth to forebode four graves, his own and those of +his wife and children. + +Maciek also had been watching its progress, which he considered an +entire revolution of the laws of nature. + +'It's a monstrous thing', he said, 'to heap up so much sand on the +fields near the river, and narrow the bed; when the Bialka swells, it +will overflow.' + +Slimak saw that the ends of the embankment were touching the river, but +as they had been strengthened by brick walls he took no alarm. +Nevertheless, it struck him that the Hamers were hurriedly throwing up +dams on their fields in the lower places. + +'Quick folk!' he thought, and contemplated doing the same, and +strengthening the dams with hurdles, as soon as he had cut the hay. It +occurred to him that he might do it now when he had plenty of time, +but, as usual, it remained a good intention. + +It was the beginning of July, when the hay had been cut and people were +gradually preparing for the harvest. Slimak had stacked his hay in the +backyard, but the Germans were still driving in stakes and throwing up +dams. + +The summer of that year was remarkable for great heat; the bees +swarmed, the corn was ripening fast, the Bialka was shallower than +usual, and three of the workmen died of sunstroke. Experienced farmers +feared either prolonged rain during the harvest or hail before long. +One day the storm came. + +The morning had been hot and sultry, the birds did not sing, the pigs +refused to eat and hid in the shade behind the farmbuildings; the wind +rose and fell, it blew now hot and dry, now cool and damp. By about ten +o'clock a large part of the sky was lined with heavy clouds, shading +from ashen-grey into iron-colour and perfect black; at times this sooty +mass, seeking an outlet upon the earth, burst asunder, revealing a +sinister light through the crevices. Then again the clouds lowered +themselves and drowned the tops of the forest trees in mists. But a hot +wind soon drove them upwards again and tore strips off them, so that +they hung ragged over the fields. + +Suddenly a fiery cloud appeared behind the village church; it seemed to +be flying at full speed along the railway embankment, driven by the +west wind; at the same time the north wind sprang up and buffeted it +from the side; dust flew up from the highroads and sandhills, and the +clouds began to growl. + +When they heard the sound, the workmen left their tools and barrows, +and filed away in two long detachments, one to the manor-house, the +other to their huts. The peasants and settlers turned the sand out of +their carts with all speed and galloped home. The cattle were driven in +from the fields, the women left their gardens; every place became +deserted. + +Thunderclap after thunderclap announced ever-fresh legions pressing +into the sky and obscuring the sun. It seemed as if the earth were +cowering in their presence, as a partridge cowers before the hovering +hawk. The blackthorn and juniper bushes called to caution with a low, +swishing noise; the troubled dust hid in the corn, where the young ears +whispered to each other; the distant forests murmured. + +High above, in the overcharged clouds, an evil force, with strong +desire to emulate the Creator, was labouring. It took the limp element +and formed an island, but before it had time to say, 'It is good', the +wind had blown the island away. It raised a gigantic mountain, but +before the summit had crowned it, the base had been blown from +underneath. Now it created a lion, now a huge bird, but soon only torn +wings and a shapeless torso dissolved into darkness. Then, seeing that +the works fashioned by the eternal hands endured, and that its own +phantom creations could not resist even the feeblest wind, the evil +spirit was seized with a great anger and determined to destroy the +earth. + +It sent a flash into the river, then thundered, 'Strike those fields +with hail! drench the hill!' And the obedient clouds flung themselves +down. The wind whistled the reveille, the rain beat the drum; like +hounds released from the leash the clouds bounded forward...downward, +following the direction to which the flashes of lightning pointed. The +evil spirit had put out the sun. + +After an hour's downpour the exhausted storm calmed down, and now the +roar of the Bialka could be distinctly heard. It had broken down the +banks, flooded the highroad and fields with dirty water and formed a +lake beyond the sandhills of the railway embankment. + +Soon, however, the storm had gathered fresh strength, the darkness +increased, lightning seemed to flash from all parts of the horizon; +perpendicular torrents of rain drowned the earth in sheets of mist. The +inmates of Slimak's cottage had gathered in the front room; Maciek sat +yawning on a corner of the bench, Magda, beside him, nursed the baby, +singing to it in a low voice; Slimakowa was vexed that the storm was +putting the fire out; Slimak was looking out of the window, thinking of +his crops. Jendrek was the only cheerful one; he ran out from time to +time, wetting himself to the skin, and tried to induce his brother or +Magda to join him in these excursions. + +'Come, Stasiek,' he cried, pulling him by the hand, 'it's such a warm +rain, it will wash you and cheer you up.' + +'Leave him alone,' said his father; 'he is peevish.' + +'And don't run out yourself,' added his mother, 'you are flooding the +whole room.... The Word was made Flesh,' she added under her breath, as +a terrific clap of thunder shook the house. Magda crossed herself; +Jendrek laughed and cried, 'What a din! there's another.... The Lord +Jesus is enjoying Himself, firing off....' + +'Be quiet, you silly,' called his mother; 'it may strike you!' + +'Let it strike!' laughed the boy boldly. 'They'll take me into the army +and shoot at me, but I don't mind!' He ran out again. + +'The rascal! he isn't afraid of anything,' Slimakowa said to her +husband with pride in her voice. Slimak shrugged his shoulders. + +'He's a true peasant.' + +Yet among that group of people with iron nerves there was one who felt +all the terror of this upheaval of the elements. How was it that +Stasiek, a peasant child, was so sensitive? + +Like the birds he had felt the coming storm, had roamed about +restlessly and watched the clouds, fancying that they were taking +council together, and he guessed that their intentions were evil. He +felt the pain of the beaten-down grass and shivered at the thought of +the earth being chilled under sheets of water. The electricity in the +air made his flesh tingle, the lightning dazzled him, and each clap of +thunder was like a blow on his head. It was not that he was afraid of +the storm, but he suffered under it, and his suffering spirit pondered, +'Why and whence do such terrible things come?' + +He wandered from the room to the alcove, from the alcove to the room, +as if he had lost his way, gazed absently out of the window and lay +down on the bench, feeling all the more miserable because no one took +any notice of him. + +He wanted to talk to Maciek, but he was asleep; he tried Magda and +found her absorbed in the baby; he was afraid of Jendrek's dragging him +out of doors if he spoke to him. At last he clung to his mother, but +she was cross because of the fire and pushed him away. + +'A likely thing I should amuse you, when the dinner is being spoilt!' +He roamed about again, then leant against his father's knee. + +'Daddy,' he said in a low voice, 'why is the storm so bad?' + +'Who knows?' + +'Is God doing it?' + +'It must be God.' + +Stasiek began to feel a little more cheerful, but his father happened +to shift his position, and the child thought he had been pushed away +again. He crept under the bench where Burek lay, and although the dog +was soaking wet, he pressed close to him and laid his head on the +faithful creature. + +Unluckily his mother caught sight of him. + +'Whatever's the matter with the boy?' she cried. 'Just you come away +from there, or the lightning will strike you! Out into the passage, +Burek!' + +She looked for a piece of wood, and the dog crept out with his tail +between his legs. Stasiek was left again to his restlessness, alone in +a roomful of people. Even his mother was now struck by his miserable +face and gave him a piece of bread to comfort him. He bit off a +mouthful, but could not swallow it and burst into tears. + +'Good gracious, Stasiek, what's the matter? Are you frightened?' + +'No.' + +'Then why are you so queer?' + +'It hurts me here,' he said, pointing to his chest. + +Slimak, who was depressed himself, thinking of his harvest, drew him to +his knee, saying: 'Don't worry! God may destroy our crop, but we won't +starve all the same. He is the smallest, and yet he has more sense than +the others,' he said, turning to his wife; 'he's worrying about the +gospodarstwo.' + +Gradually, as the storm abated, the roar of the river struck them +afresh. Slimak quickly drew on his boots. + +'Where are you going?' asked his wife. + +'Something's wrong outside.' + +He went and returned breathlessly. + +'I say! It's just as I thought.' + +'Is it the corn?' + +'No, that hasn't suffered much, but the dam is broken.' + +'Jesus! Jesus!' + +'The water is up to our yard. Those scoundrel Swabians have dammed up +their fields, and that has taken some more off the hill.' + +'Curse them!' + +'Have you looked into the stable?' asked Maciek. + +'Is it likely I shouldn't? There's water in the stable, water in the +cowshed, look! even the passage is flooded; but the rain is stopping, +we must bale out.' + +'And the hay?' + +'That will dry again if God gives fine weather.' + +Soon the entire household were baling in the house and farm-buildings; +the fire was burning brightly, and the sun peeped out from behind the +clouds. + +On the other bank of the river the Germans were at work. Barelegged, +and armed with long poles, they waded carefully through the flooded +fields towards the river to catch the drifting logs. + +Stasiek was calming down; he was not tingling all over now. From time +to time he still fancied he heard the thunder, and strained his ears, +but it was only the noise of the others baling with wooden grain +measures. There was much commotion in the passage where Jendrek pushed +Magda about instead of baling. + +'Steady there,' cried his mother, 'when I get hold of something hard +I'll beat you black and blue!' + +But Jendrek laughed, for he could tell by a shade in her voice that she +was no longer cross. + +Courage returned to Stasiek's heart. Supposing he were to peep out into +the yard... would there still be a terrible black cloud? Why not try? +He put his head out of the back door and saw the blue sky flecked with +little white clouds hurrying eastwards. The cock was flapping his wings +and crowing, heavy drops were sparkling on the bushes, golden streaks +of sunlight penetrated into the passage, and bright reflections from +the surface of the waters beckoned to him. + +He flew out joyfully through the pools of water, delighting in the +rainbow-coloured sheaves that were spurting from under his feet; he +stood on a plank and punted himself along with a stick, pretending that +he was sailing in deep water. + +'Come, Jendrek!' he called. + +'Stop here and go on baling,' called out Slimakowa. + +The Germans were still busy landing wood; whenever they got hold of a +specially large piece they shouted 'Hurrah!' Suddenly some big logs +came floating down, and this raised their enthusiasm to such a pitch +that they started singing the 'Wacht am Rhein'. For the first time in +his life Stasiek, who was so sensitive to music, heard a men's chorus +sung in parts. It seemed to melt into one with the bright sun; both +intoxicated him; he forgot where he was and what he was doing, he stood +petrified. Waves seemed to be floating towards him from the river, +embracing and caressing him with invisible arms, drawing him +irresistibly. He wanted to turn towards the house or call Jendrek, but +he could only move forward, slowly, as in a dream, then +faster...faster; he ran, and disappeared down the hill. + +The men were singing the third verse of the 'Wacht am Rhein', when they +suddenly stopped and shouted: + +'Help...help!' + +Slimak and Maciek had stopped in their work to listen to the singing; +the sudden cries surprised them, but it was the labourer who was seized +with apprehension. + +'Run, gospodarz,' he said; 'something's up.' + +'Eh! something they have taken into their heads!' + +'Help!' the cry rose again. + +'Never mind, run, gospodarz,' the man urged; 'I can't keep up with you, +and something....' + +Slimak ran towards the river, and Maciek painfully dragged himself +after him. Jendrek overtook him. + +'What's up? Where is Stasiek?' + +Maciek stopped and heard a powerful voice calling out: + +'That's the way you look after your children, Polish beasts!' + +Then Slimak appeared on the hill, holding Stasiek in his arms. The +boy's head was resting on his shoulder, his right arm hung limply. +Dirty water was flowing from them both. Slimak's lips were livid, his +eyes wide open. Jendrek ran towards him, slipped on the boggy hillside, +scrambled up and shouted in terror: 'Daddy...Stasiek...what....' + +'He's drowned!' + +'You are mad,' cried the boy; 'he's sitting on your arm!' + +He pulled Stasiek by the shirt, and the boy's head fell over his +father's shoulder. + +'You see!' whispered Slimak. + +'But he was in the backyard a minute ago.' + +Slimak did not answer, he supported Stasiek's head and stumbled +forward. + +Slimakowa was standing in the passage, shading her eyes and waiting. + +'Well, what has he been up to now?... What's this? Has it fallen on +Stasiek again? Curse those Swabians and their singing!' + +She went up to the boy and, taking his hand, said in a trembling voice: + +'Never mind, Stasiek, don't roll your eyes like that, never mind! Come +to your senses, I won't scold you. Magda, fetch some water.' + +'He has had more than enough water,' murmured Slimak. + +The woman started back. + +'What's the matter with him? Why is he so wet?' + +'I have taken him out of the pool by the river.' + +'That little pool?' + +'The water was only up to my waist, but it did for him.' + +'Then why don't you turn him upside down? Maciek, take him by the +feet...oh, you clumsy fellows!' + +The labourer did not stir. She seized the boy herself by the legs. + +Stasiek struck the ground heavily with his hands; a little blood ran +from his nose. + +Maciek took the child from her and carried him into the cottage, where +he laid him down on the bench. They all followed him except Magda, who +ran aimlessly round the yard and then, with outstretched arms, on to +the highroad, crying: 'Help...help, if you believe in God!' She +returned to the cottage, but dared not go in, crouched on the threshold +with her head on her knees, groaning: 'Help...if you believe in God.' + +Slimak dashed into the alcove, put on his sukmana and ran out, he did +not know whither; he felt he must run somewhere. + +A voice seemed to cry to him: 'Father...father...if you had put up a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +And the man answered: 'It is not my fault; the Germans bewitched him +with their singing.' + +A cart was heard rattling on the highroad and stopped in front of the +cottage. The schoolmaster got out, bareheaded and with his rod in his +hand. 'How is the boy?' he called out, but did not wait for an answer +and limped into the cottage. + +Stasiek was lying on the bench, his mother was supporting his head on +her knees and whispering to herself: 'He's coming to, he's a little +warmer.' + +The schoolmaster nudged Maciek: 'How is he?' + +'What do I know? She says he's better, but the boy doesn't move, no, he +doesn't move.' + +The schoolmaster went up to the boy and told his mother to make room. +She got up obediently and watched the old man breathlessly, with open +mouth, sobbing now and then. Slimak peeped through the open window from +time to time, but he was unable to bear the sight of his child's pale +face. The schoolmaster stripped the wet clothes off the little body and +slowly raised and lowered his arms. There was silence while the others +watched him, until Slimakowa, unable to contain herself any longer, +pulled her hair down and then struck her head against the wall. + +'Oh, why were you ever born?' she moaned, 'a child of gold! He +recovered from all his illnesses and now he is drowned.... Merciful +God! why dost Thou punish me so? Drowned like a puppy in a muddy pool, +and no one to help!' + +She sank down on her knees, while the schoolmaster persevered for half +an hour, listening for the beating of the child's heart from time to +time, but no sign of life appeared and, seeing that he could do no +more, he covered the child's body with a cloth, silently said a prayer +and went out. Maciek followed him. + +In the yard he came upon Slimak; he looked like a drunken man. + +'What have you come here for, schoolmaster?' he choked. 'Haven't you +done us enough harm? You've killed my child with your singing...do you +want to destroy his soul too as it is leaving him, or do you mean to +bring a curse on the rest of us?' + +'What is that you are saying?' said the schoolmaster in amazement. + +The peasant stretched his arms and gasped for breath. + +'Forgive me, sir,' he said, 'I know you are a good man.... God reward +you,' he kissed his hand; 'but my Stasiek died through your fault all +the same: you bewitched him.' + +'Man!' cried the schoolmaster, 'are we not Christians like you? Do we +not put away Satan and his deeds as you do?' + +'But how was it he got drowned?' + +'How do I know? He may have slipped.' + +'But the water was so shallow he might have scrambled out, only your +singing...that was the second time it bewitched him so that something +fell on him...isn't it true, Maciek?' + +The labourer nodded. + +'Did the boy have fits?' asked the schoolmaster. + +'Never.' + +'And has he never been ill?' + +'Never.' + +Maciek shook his head. 'He's been ill since the winter.' + +'Eh?' asked Slimak. + +'I'm speaking the truth; Stasiek has been ill ever since he took a +cold; he couldn't run without getting out of breath; once I saw it fall +upon him while I was ploughing. I had to go and bring him round.' + +'Why did you never say anything about it?' + +'I did tell the gospodyni, but she told me to mind my own business and +not to talk like a barber.' + +'Well, you see,' said the schoolmaster, the boy was suffering from a +weak heart and that killed him; he would have died young in any case.' + +Slimak listened eagerly, and his consciousness seemed to return. + +'Could it be that?' he murmured. 'Did the boy die a natural death?' + +He tapped at the window and the woman came out, rubbing her swollen +eyes. + +'Why didn't you tell me that Stasiek had been ill since the winter, and +couldn't run without feeling queer?' + +'Of course he wasn't well,' she said; 'but what good could you have +done?' + +'I couldn't have done anything, for if he was to die, he was to die.' + +The mother cried quietly. + +'No, he couldn't escape; if he was to die he was to die; he must have +felt it coming to-day during the storm, when he went about clinging to +everyone...if only it had entered my head not to let him out of my +sight...if I had only locked him up....' + +'If his hour had come, he would have died in the cottage,' said the +schoolmaster, departing. + +Already resignation was entering into the hearts of those who mourned +for Stasiek. They comforted each other, saying that no hair falls from +our heads without God's will. + +'Not even the wild beasts die unless it is God's will,' said Slimak: 'a +hare may be shot at and escape, and then die in the open field, so that +you can catch it with your hands.' + +'Take my case,' said Maciek: 'the cart crushed me and they took me to +the hospital, and here I am alive; but when my hour has struck I shall +die, even if I were to hide under the altar. So it was with Stasiek.' + +'My little one, my comfort!' sobbed the mother. + +'Well, he wouldn't have been much comfort,' said Slimak; 'he couldn't +have done heavy farm work.' 'Oh, no!' put in Maciek. + +'Or handled the beasts.' + +'Oh, no!' + +'He would never have made a peasant; he was such a peculiar child, he +didn't care for farm work; all he cared for was roaming about and +gazing into the river.' + +'Yes, and he would talk to the grass and the birds, I have heard it +myself,' said Maciek, 'and many times have I thought: "Poor thing! what +will you do when you grow up? You'd be a queer fish even among +gentlefolk, but what will it be like for you among the peasants?"' + +In the evening Slimak carried Stasiek on to the bed in the alcove; his +mother laid two copper coins on his eyes and lit the candle in front of +the Madonna. + +They put down straw in the room, but neither of them could sleep; Burek +howled all night, Magda was feverish; Jendrek continually raised +himself from the straw, for he fancied his brother had moved. But +Stasiek did not move. + +In the morning Slimak made a little coffin; carpentering came so easily +to him that he could not help smiling contentedly at his own work now +and then. But when he remembered what he was doing, he was seized with +such passionate grief that he threw down his tools and ran out, he knew +not whither. + +On the third day Maciek harnessed the horses to the cart, and they +drove to the village church, Jendrek keeping close to the coffin and +steadying it, so that it should not rock. He even tapped, and listened +if his brother were not calling. + +But Stasiek was silent. He was silent when they drove to the church, +silent when the priest sprinkled holy water on him, silent when they +took him to his grave and his father helped the gravedigger to lower +him, and when they threw clods of earth upon him and left him alone for +the first time. + +Even Maciek burst into tears. Slimak hid his face in his sukmana like a +Roman senator and would not let his grief be looked upon. + +And a voice in his heart whispered: 'Father! father! if you had made a +fence, your child would not have been drowned!' + +But he answered: 'I am not guilty; he died because his hour had come.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Autumn came with drab, melancholy stubble fields; the bushes in the +ravines turned red; the storks hastily left the barns and flew south; +in the few woods that remained, the birds were silent, human beings had +deserted the fields; only here and there some old German women in blue +petticoats were digging up the last potatoes. Even the navvies had +left, the embankment was finished, and they had dispersed all over the +world. Their place was taken by a light railway bringing rails and +sleepers. At first you were only aware of smoke in the distant west; in +a few days' time you discovered a chimney, and presently found that +that chimney was fixed to a large cauldron which rolled along without +horses, dragging after it a dozen wagons full of wood and iron. +Whenever it stopped men jumped out and laid down the wood, fastened the +iron to it and drove off again. These were the proceedings which Maciek +was watching daily. + +'Look, how clever that is,' he said to Slimak; 'they can get their load +uphill without horses. Why should we worry the beasts?' + +But when the cauldron came to a dead stop where the embankment ended by +the ravines and the men had taken out and disposed of the load, 'Now, +what will they do?' he thought. + +To the farm labourer's utter astonishment the cauldron gave a shrill +whistle and moved backwards with its wagons. + +Yes, there it was! Had not the Galician harvesters told him of an +engine that went by itself? Had they not drunk through his money with +which he was to buy boots? + +'To be sure, they told me true, it goes by itself; but it creeps like +old Sobieska,' he added, to comfort himself. Yet, deep down in his +heart he was afraid of this new contrivance and felt that it boded no +good to the neighbourhood. And though he reasoned inconsequently he was +right, for with the appearance of the railway engines there also came +much thieving. From pots and pans, drying on the fences, to horses in +the stables, nothing was safe. The Germans had their bacon stolen from +the larder; the gospodarz Marcinezak, who returned rather tipsy from +absolution, was attacked by men with blackened faces and thrown out of +his cart, with which the robbers drove off at breakneck speed. Even the +poor tailor Niedoperz, when crossing a wood, was relieved of the three +roubles he had earned with so much labour. + +The railway brought Slimak no luck either. It became increasingly +difficult to buy fodder for the animals, and no one now asked him to +sell his produce. The salted butter, and other produce of which he had +laid in a stock, went bad, and they had to eat the fowls themselves. +The Germans did all the trading with the railway men, and even in the +little town no one looked at the peasant's produce. + +So Slimak sat in his room and did no work. Where should he find work? +He sat by the stove and pondered. Would things continue like this? +would there always be too little hay? would no one buy from him? would +there be no end to the thieving? What was not under lock and key in the +farm-buildings was no longer safe. + +Meanwhile the Germans drove about for miles in all directions and sold +all that they produced. + +'Things are going badly,' said Slimakowa. + +'Eh...they'll get straight again somehow,' he answered. + +Gradually poor Stasiek was forgotten. Sometimes his mother laid one +spoon too many, and then wiped her eyes with her kerchief, sometimes +Magda thoughtlessly called Jendrek by his brother's name or the dog +would run round the buildings looking for some one, and then lay down +barking, with his head on the ground. But all this happened more and +more rarely. + +Jendrek had been restless since his brother's death; he did not like to +sit indoors when there was nothing to do, and roamed about. His rambles +frequently ended in a visit to the schoolmaster; out of curiosity he +examined the books, and as he knew some of the letters, the +schoolmaster's daughter amused herself by teaching him to spell. The +boy would purposely stumble over his words so that she should correct +him and touch his shoulder to point out the mistake. + +One day he took home a book to show what he had learnt, and his +overjoyed mother sent the schoolmaster's daughter a couple of fowls and +four dozen eggs. Slimak promised the schoolmaster five roubles when +Jendrek would be able to pray from a book and ten more when he should +have learnt to write. Jendrek was therefore more and more often at the +settlement, either busy with his lessons or else watching the girl +through the window and listening to her voice. But this happened to +annoy one of the young Germans, who was a relation of the Hamers. + +Under ordinary circumstances Jendrek's behaviour would have attracted +his parents' attention, but they were entirely engrossed in another +subject. Every day convinced them more firmly of the fact that they had +too little fodder and a cow too many. They did not say so to each +other, but no one in the house thought of anything else. The gospodyni +thought of it when she saw the milk get less in the pails, Magda had +forebodings and caressed the cows in turns, Maciek, when unobserved, +even deprived the horses of a handful of hay, and Slimak would stand in +front of the cowshed and sigh. + +It was he himself who one night broke this tacit understanding of +silence on the sad question which was becoming a crisis; he suddenly +awoke, sprang up and sat down on the edge of the bed. + +'What's the matter, Josef?' asked his wife. + +'Oh...I was dreaming that we had no fodder left and all the cows had +died.' + +'In the name of the Father and the Son...may you not have spoken that +in an evil hour!' + +'There is not enough fodder for five tails...it's no good pretending.' + +'Well, then, what will you do?' + +'How do I know?' + +'Perhaps one could...' + +'Maybe sell one of them...' finished the husband. + +The word had fallen. + +Next time Slimak went to the inn he gave Josel a hint, who passed it on +at once to two butchers in the little town. + +When they came to the cottage, Slimakowa refused to speak to them and +Magda began to cry. Slimak took them to the yard. + +'Well, how is it, gospodarz, you want to sell a cow?' + +'How can I tell?' + +'Which one is it? Let's see her.' + +Slimak said nothing, and Maciek had to take up the conversation. + +'If one is to be sold, it may as well be Lysa.' + +'Lead her out,' urged the butchers. + +Maciek led the unfortunate cow into the yard; she seemed astonished at +being taken out at such an unusual hour. + +The butchers looked her over, chattered in Yiddish and asked the price. + +'How do I know?' Slimak said, still irresolute. + +'What's the good of talking like that, you know as well as we do that +she's an old beast. We will give you fifteen roubles.' + +Slimak relapsed into silence, and Maciek had to do the bargaining; +after much shouting and pulling about of the cow, they agreed on +eighteen roubles. A rope was laid on her horns and the stick about her +shoulders, and they started. + +The cow, scenting mischief, would not go; first she turned back to the +cowshed and was dragged towards the highroad, then she lowed so +miserably that Maciek went pale and Magda was heard to sob loudly: the +gospodyni would not look out of the window. + +The cow finally planted herself firmly on the ground with her four feet +rigidly fixed, and looked at Slimak with rolling eyes as if to say: +'Look, gospodarz, what they are doing to me...for six years I have been +with you and have honestly done my duty, stand by me now.' + +Slimak did not move, and the cow at last allowed herself to be led +away, but when she had been plodding along for a little distance, he +slowly followed. He pressed the Jews' money in his hand and thought: + +'Ought I to have sold you? I should never have done it if the merciful +God had not been angry with us; but we might all starve.' + +He stood still, leant against the railings and turned all his +misfortunes over in his mind; now and then the thought that he might +still run and buy her back stole into his mind. + +He suddenly noticed that old Hamer had come close up to him. + +'Are you coming to see me, gospodarz?' he asked. + +'I'll come, if you will sell me fodder.' + +'Fodder won't help you. A peasant among settlers will always be at a +disadvantage,' said the old man, with his pipe between his teeth. 'Sell +me your land; I'll give you a hundred roubles an acre.' + +Slimak shook his head. 'You are mad, Pan Hamer, I don't know what you +mean. Isn't it enough that I am obliged to sell the beast? Now you want +me to sell everything. If you want me to leave, carry me out into the +churchyard. It is nothing to you Germans to move from place to place, +you are a roving people and have no country, but a peasant is like a +stone by the wayside. I know everything here by heart. I have moved +every clod of earth with my own hands; now you say: sell and go +elsewhere. Wherever I went I should be dazed and lost; when I looked at +a bush I should say: that did not grow at home; the soil would be +different and even the sun would not set in the same place. And what +should I tell my father if he were to come looking for me when it gets +too hot for him in Purgatory? He would ask me how I was to find his +grave again, and Stasiek's, poor Stasiek who has laid down his head, +thanks to you!' + +Hamer was trembling with rage. + +'What rubbish the man is talking!' he cried, 'have not numbers of +peasants settled afresh in Volhynia? His father will come looking for +him! ...You had better look out that you don't go to Purgatory soon +yourself for your obstinacy, and ruin me into the bargain. You are +ruining my son now, because I can't build him a windmill. Here I am +offering you a hundred roubles an acre, confound it all!' + +'Say what you like, but I won't sell you my land.' + +'You'll sell it all right,' said Hamer, shaking his fist, 'but I shan't +buy it; you won't last out a year among us.' + +He turned away abruptly. + +'And I don't want that lad to stroll in and out of the settlement,' he +called back, 'I don't keep a schoolmaster here for you!' + +'That's nothing to me; he needn't go if you grudge him the room.' + +'Yes, I grudge him the room,' the old man retorted viciously, 'the +father is a dolt, let the son be a dolt too.' + +Slimak's regret for the cow was drowned in his anger. 'All right, let +them cut her throat,' he thought, but remembering that the poor beast +could not help his quarrel with Hamer, he sighed. + +There were fresh lamentations at home; Magda was blubbering because she +had been given notice. Slimak sat down on the bench and listened to his +wife comforting the girl. + +'It's true, we are not short of food,' she said, 'but how am I to get +the money for your wages? You are a big girl and ought to have a rise +after the New Year. We haven't enough work for you; go to your uncle at +once, tell him how things are going from bad to worse here, and fall at +his feet and ask him to find you another place. Please God, you will +come back to us.' 'Ho,' murmured Maciek from his corner, 'there's no +returning; when you're gone, you're gone; first the cow, then Magda, +now my turn will come.' + +'Oh, you, Maciek, you will stay,' said Slimakowa, 'there must be some +one to look after the horses, and if we don't give you your wages one +year, you'll get them the next, but we can't do that to Magda, she is +young.' + +'That's true,' said Maciek on reflection, 'and it's kind of you to +think of the girl first.' + +Slimak was silently admiring his wife's good sense, but at the same +time he felt acute regret and apprehension at all these changes; +everything had been going on harmoniously for years, and now one day +sufficed to send both the cow and Magda away. + +'What shall I do?' he ruminated, 'shall I try to set up as a carpenter, +or shall I apply to his Reverence for advice? I might ask him at the +same time to say a Mass, but maybe he would say the Mass and not give +the advice. It will all come right; God strikes until His hand is +tired; then He looks down in favour again on those who suffer +patiently.' So he waited. + +Magda had found another situation by November; her place in the +gospodarstwo soon grew cold, no one thought or talked of her, and only +the gospodyni asked herself sometimes: 'Were there really a Stasiek in +this room once and a Magda pottering about, and three cows in the +shed?' + +Meanwhile the thieving increased. Slimak daily thought of putting bolts +and padlocks on the farm-buildings, or at least long poles in front of +the stable door. But whenever he reached for the hatchet, it always lay +too far off, or his arm was too short; anyhow he left it, and the +thought of buying padlocks when times were hard, made him feel quite +faint. He hid the money at the bottom of the chest so that it should +not tempt him. 'I must wait till the spring,' he thought; 'after all, +there are Maciek and Burek, they are sharp enough.' + +Burek confirmed this opinion by much howling. + +One very dark night, when sleet was falling, Maciek heard him barking +more furiously than usual, and attacking some one in the direction of +the ravines. He jumped up and waked Slimak; armed with hatchets they +waited in the yard. A heavy tread approached behind the barn as of some +one carrying a load. 'At them!' they urged Burek, who, feeling himself +backed up, attacked furiously. + +'Shall we go for them?' asked Maciek. + +Slimak hesitated. 'I don't know how many there are.' + +At that moment a light flashed up from the settlement, horses +clattered. Seeing that help was approaching, Slimak dashed behind the +barn and called out: 'Hey there! who are you?' + +Something heavy fell to the ground. + +'You wait! policeman for the Swabians, you shall soon know who we are!' +answered a voice in the darkness. + +'Catch him!' cried Slimak and Maciek simultaneously, but the thief had +escaped to the ravines. When the Germans on horseback came up, Slimak +lit a torch and ran behind the barn. A pig's carcass lay in a puddle. + +'That's our hog,' cried Fritz, 'they stole it from under our noses and +while there was a light in the house.' + +'Daredevils!' muttered Maciek. + +'To tell you the truth,' laughed Earner's farmhand, 'we thought it was +you who had done it.' + +'Go to the devil!' + +'Let's go after them,' Fritz interrupted quickly. + +'Go on! I... steal your hog! indeed!' + +'Let me go, father,' begged Jendrek. + +'Go indoors! We've saved them a hog and the thieves will revenge +themselves on us; and here they come and accuse me of being a thief +myself.' Fritz Hamer swore at the farm-hand for his clumsiness and +tried to pacify the peasant, but he turned his back on him. Fritz had +lost his zeal for pursuing the thieves, took up his hog and disappeared +into the darkness. + +After a few days the police-sergeant drove up, cross-examined every +one, explored the ravines, perspired, made himself muddy, and found no +one. He came to the very just conclusion that the thieves must have +escaped long ago. So he told Slimakowa to put some butter and a +speckled hen into his cart and returned home. + +The thieving stopped for a while, and winter came on. The ground was +warmly covered as with a sheepskin; ice as hard as flint froze on the +Bialka, the Lord wrapped the branches of the trees securely in shirts +of snow. But Slimak was still meditating on hasps and bolts. + +One evening, as he sat filling the room with smoke from his pipe, +shifting his feet and arriving at the second part of his meditations, +namely that 'What is done too soon is the devil's,' Jendrek excitedly +burst into the room. His mother was busy with the fire and paid no +attention to him, but his father noticed, although they were sparing of +light in the cottage, that his sukmana was torn and he looked bruised +and dishevelled. Looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, Slimak +emptied his pipe and said: 'Someone has been oxing your ears three +times over.' + +'I gave him one better,' said the boy scowling. + +As the mother had gone out and did not hear the conversation, the +father did not hurry himself; he cleaned his choked pipe, blew through +it and indifferently inquired, 'Who's been treating you this?' + +'That scoundrel, Hermann.' The boy was hitching up his shoulders as if +he had been stung. + +'And what were you doing at Earner's when you had been told not to go +there?' + +'I was looking at the schoolmaster through the window,' said Jendrek +blushing, and added quickly, 'That German dog ran out from the kitchen +and shouted: "You are spying about here, you thief!" "What have I +stolen?" I say, and he: "Nothing yet, but you will steal some day; be +off, or I'll box your ears." "Try!" I say. "I've tried before," says +he; "take this!"' + +'That was smart of the Swabian,' said Slimak, 'and did you do nothing +to him?' + +'Why should I do nothing to him? I snatched up a log and hit him over +the head two or three times, but the coward started bleeding and gave +in; I should have liked to have given him more, but they came running +out of their houses and I made off.' + +'So they didn't catch you?' + +'Bah, how can they catch me, when I run like a hare?' 'Confound the +boy,' said his mother, who had come in, 'the Swabians will beat him +small.' + +'He can always give them the slip,' said Slimak, lit his pipe, and +resumed his meditations on hasps and bolts. + +But these were interrupted the next afternoon by a visit from the +Hamers; their cousin, Hermann, had his head so tightly bandaged that +hardly anything was visible of his face. They stood outside the gate +and shouted to Maciek to call his master. Slimak hastily fastened his +belt and stepped out. 'What do you want?' he said. + +'We are going to the police-station to take out a summons against that +Jendrek of yours; look what he has done to Hermann; we have a +certificate from the surgeon that his injuries are serious.' + +'He came ogling the schoolmaster's daughter, now he shall ogle his +prison bars,' Hermann added thickly behind his bandages. + +Slimak was getting worried. + +'You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,' he said, 'to take out a +summons for a bit of boy's nonsense; didn't Hermann box his ears too? +But we don't take out summonses for that sort of thing.' + +'Oh, rather! I gave it him,' mumbled Hermann, 'but where's the blood? +where's the doctor's certificate?' + +'You're a nice one,' said Slimak bitterly, 'there was no policeman to +certify that it was we who saved you the hog, but when a boy plays a +prank on you, you go to law.' + +'Perhaps with you a hog means as much as a man,' sneered Fritz; 'with +us it is different.' + +Slimak's meditations now turned from bolts and padlocks to prisons. He +talked the matter over with Maciek. + +'When they put our small Jendrek in Court by the side of that big +Hermann, I reckon they won't do much to him.' + +'They'll do nothing to him,' agreed the labourer. + +'All the same, I should like to know what the punishment is for +thrashing a man.' + +'They don't trouble their heads much about it. When Potocka beat her +neighbour over the head with a saucepan, they just fined her.' + +'That's true, but I am afraid they think more of the Germans than of +our people.' + +'How could they think more of unbelievers?' + +'Look at the police-sergeant, he talks to Hamer as he wouldn't even +talk to Gryb.' + +'That is so, but when he has looked round to see that no one is +listening, he tells you that a German is a mangy dog. You see, the +Germans have their Kaiser, but he's nothing like as great as our Czar; +I have it from a soldier who was in the hospital, and he used to say: +"Bah, he's nothing compared to ours!"' + +This greatly reassured Slimak, and he went to church with his wife and +son the next Sunday to find out what others, familiar with the ways of +the law, thought of the matter. Maciek remained at home to look after +the dinner and the baby. + +It was past noon when Burek began to bark furiously. Maciek looked out +and saw a man dressed like the townspeople standing at the gate; he had +pulled his cap well over his face. The farm-labourer went outside. + +'What's up?' + +'Take pity on us, gospodarz,' said the stranger, 'our sledge has broken +down close by, and I can't mend it, because they have stolen the +hatchet out of my basket last night.' + +Maciek looked doubtful. 'Have you come far?' + +'Twenty-five miles; my wife and I are driving twelve miles further. I +will give you good vodka and sausages if you will help us.' + +Maciek's suspicions lessened when vodka was mentioned. He shook his +head and crossed himself, but ultimately decided that one must help +one's neighbour, fetched the hatchet and went out with the stranger. + +He found a one-horse sledge standing near the farm. A woman, even more +smartly dressed than the man, sat huddled up in a corner; she blessed +Maciek in a tearful voice, but her husband did more, he poured out a +large tumblerful of vodka and offered it to the labourer, drinking to +his health first. Maciek apologized, as the ceremony demanded, then +took a long pull, till the tears came into his eyes. He set about +mending the sledge, and although it was a small job and did not take +him more than half an hour, the strangers thanked him extravagantly, +the woman gave him half a sausage and some roast pork, and the man +exclaimed: 'I have travelled far and wide, but I have never found a +more obliging peasant than you are, brother. I should like to leave you +a remembrance. Have you got a bottle?' + +'I think I could find one,' said Maciek, in a voice trembling with +delight. The man unceremoniously pushed his wife on one side and drew a +large bottle from underneath the seat. + +'We are off now,' he said, 'we will go to the gospodarstwo and you +shall give me some nails in case of another breakdown, and I will leave +you some of this cordial in return. Mind, if your head or your stomach +aches or you are worried and can't sleep, take a glassful of this: all +your worries will at once disappear. Take good care of it and don't on +any account give a drop away, it's a speciality; my grandfather got it +from the monks at Radecznica, it's as good as holy water.' + +Maciek went into the house, the stranger remained in the yard, looking +carelessly round the buildings, while Burek barked madly at him. At any +other time the dog's anger would have roused Maciek's suspicion, but +how could one think anything but well of a guest who had already given +vodka and sausages and who was offering more drink? He smilingly +offered a big-bellied bottle to the traveller, who poured half a pint +of the cordial into it, and when he took leave he repeated the warning +that it should be used only in case of need. + +Maciek stuffed a piece of rag into the neck of the bottle and hid it in +the stable. He felt a strong desire to taste the drink, if only a drop, +but he resisted. + +'Supposing I were to get ill... better keep it.' + +He rocked the baby to sleep and then woke her up again to tell her +about the hospital and his broken leg, about the travellers who had +left him such a magnificent present, but nothing could take his +thoughts away from the monks' cordial. The big-bellied bottle seemed to +hover over the pots and pans on the stove, it blossomed out of the +wall, it almost tapped at the window, but Maciek blinked his eyes and +thought: 'Leave me alone, you will come in useful some day!' + +Shortly before sunset he heard cheerful singing in the road, and. +quickly stepping outside, he saw the gospodarz and his family returning +from church. They were silhouetted against the red sky in the white +landscape. Jendrek, his head in the air and his arms crossed behind his +back, was walking on the left side of the road, the gospodyni in her +blue Sunday skirt, and her jacket unbuttoned, so that her white chemise +and bare chest were showing, on the right. The gospodarz, his cap awry, +and holding up nis sukmana as for a dance, lurched from right to left +and from left to right, singing. The labourer laughed, not because they +were drunk, but because it pleased him to see them enjoying themselves. + +'Do you know, Maciek,' cried Slimak from afar, 'do you know the +Swabians can't hurt us!' + +He ran up full tilt and supported himself on Maciek's neck. + +'Do you know,' cried the gospodyni, coming up,'we have seen Jasiek Gryb +who knows all about the law; we told him about Jendrek's giving it to +Hermann, and he swore by a happy death that the Court would let Jendrek +off; Jasiek has been tried for these tricks himself, he knows.' + +'Let them try and put me in prison!' shouted Jendrek. + +It was in this frame of mind that they sat down, but somehow the dinner +was not a success. Slimakowa poured most of the sauerkraut over the +table, the gospodarz had no appetite, and Jendrek had forgotten how to +hold a spoon, scalded his father's foot with soup and finally fell +asleep. His parents followed his example, so Maciek was left to himself +again. The big-bellied bottle started pursuing him immediately. It +availed nothing that he busied himself with the fire and the wick of +the flickering lamp. The snoring around him disposed him to sleep and +the smell of vodka that had been introduced into the room filled him +with longing. In vain he tried to keep off the thoughts that circled +like moths round the light. When he forgot his misery at the hospital, +he thought of the forlornness of the abandoned baby, and when he put +that aside his own needs overwhelmed him again. 'It's no use,' he +muttered, 'I must go to bed.' + +He wrapped the child in the sheepskin and went into the stable. He lay +down on the straw, the warmth of the horses tempered the cold, and +Maciek closed his eyes, but sleep would not come; it was too early yet. + +As he turned from side to side, his hand came in contact with the +bottle; he pushed it away; but, violating the law of inertia, it thrust +itself irresistibly into his hand; the rag remained between his +fingers, and when he mechanically lifted it to his eyes in the half- +light, the strange vessel leapt to his lips of its own accord. Before +he was conscious of what he was doing, Maciek had pulled a long draft +of the health-giving speciality. He gulped it down and pulled a wry +face. The drink was not only strong, it was nauseous; it simply tasted +like ordinary medicine. 'Well, that wasn't worth longing for!' he +thought, as he stuffed up the neck of the bottle again. He resolved to +be more temperate in future with a liquor which was not distinguished +for a good taste. + +Maciek said a prayer and felt warm and calm. He remembered the +home-coming of the gospodarz's family: they all stood before his eyes +as if they were alive. Suddenly Slimak and Jendrek vanished and only +Slimakowa remained near him in her unbuttoned jacket which exposed rows +of corals and her bare white chest. He closed his eyelids and pressed +them with his fingers, so as not to look, but still he saw her, smiling +at him in a strange way. He hid his head in the sheepskin--it was in +vain; the woman stood there and smiled in a way that sent the fever +through his veins. His heart beat violently; he turned his head to the +wall and, terror-stricken, heard her voice whispering close to him: +'Move up!' + +'Where am I to move to?' groaned Maciek. + +A warm hand seemed to embrace his neck. + +Then his mattress began to ascend with him, he flew... flew. God I was +he falling or being lifted into the air? he felt as light as a feather, +as smoke. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw stars glittering in a +dark sky over a snowy landscape. How could he be seeing the sky? +No... he must have made a mistake; darkness was surrounding him again. +He wanted to move, but could not; besides, why should he move, when he +felt so extraordinarily comfortable? there was not a thing in the world +that it would be worth while moving a finger for, nothing but sleep +mattered, sleep without awakening. He sighed heavily and slept and +slept. + +A sensation of pain woke Maciek from a dreamless sleep which must have +lasted about ten hours. He felt himself violently shaken, kicked in the +ribs and on the head, tugged by his arms and legs. + +'Get up, you thief... get up!' a voice was shouting at him. + +He tried to get up, but turned over on the other side instead. The +blows and tugs recommenced, and the voice, choked with rage, continued: + +'Get up! I wish the holy earth had never carried you!' + +At last Maciek roused himself and sat up; the light hurt his eyes, his +head felt heavy like a rock; so he closed his eyes again, supported his +head and tried to think; immediately he received a blow in the face +from a fist. When at last he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Slimak +who was standing over him, mad with rage. + +'What are you hitting me for?' he asked in amazement. + +'Where are the horses, you thief?' shouted Slimak. + +'Horses? what horses?' + +He was suddenly seized with sickness. Coming to himself a little, he +looked round. Yes, something seemed to be missing from the stable; he +wiped his forehead, looked again... the stable was empty. + +'But where are the horses?' he asked. + +'Where?' cried Slimak, 'where your brothers have taken them, you +thief.' The labourer held out his hands. + +'I never took them out. I haven't stirred from here all night, +something must have happened... I am ill.' + +He staggered up and had to support himself. + +'What is that? You are trying to make out that you have lost your wits. +You know quite well that the horses have been stolen. Whoever stole +them must have opened the door and led them over you.' + +'God help me! no one opened the door, no one led them over me,' cried +Maciek, bursting into sobs. + +'Dad! Burek is lying dead behind the fence,' cried Jendrek, who came +running up with his mother. + +'They have poisoned him,' said the woman, 'the foam has frozen on his +mouth.' + +Maciek sank down in the open door, unable to stand any longer. + +'The devil has got him too, he isn't like himself, something has fallen +on him,' said Slimak. + +'And may he keep it till he dies,'cried the woman, 'here he is sleeping +in the stable and lets the horses be stolen. May the ground spit him +out!' + +Jendrek was looking for a stone, but his parents, taking notice of the +man's deathly pallor and his sunken eyes for the first time, restrained +him. + +'Maybe they have poisoned him too,' whispered Slimakowa. + +Slimak shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to make of it. + +He began to question Maciek: Had anything happened in his absence? + +Slowly and with difficulty, but concealing nothing, Maciek told his +story. + +'Of course they gave me some filthy stuff, and then they made off with +the horses,' he added, sobbing. + +But instead of taking pity on him, Slimak burst out afresh: + +'What? you took drink from strangers and never told me anything about +it?' + +'Why should I have bothered you, gospodarz, when you were a little bit +screwed yourself?' + +'What's that to do with you?' bawled Slimak, 'dogs have no right to +notice whether one is drunk or not, they have to be all the more +watchful when one is! You are a thief like the others, only you are +worse. I took you in when you were starving, and you've robbed me in +return.' + +'Don't talk like that,' groaned Maciek, crawling to Slimak's feet, 'I +have saved a few roubles from my wages, and there is my little chest +and a bit of sheepskin and my sukmana; take it all, but don't say I +robbed you. Your dog has not been more faithful, and they have poisoned +him too.' + +'Don't bother me,' cried Slimak, thrusting him aside, 'the fellow +offers me his wages and his box when the horses were worth twenty-eight +roubles. + +I haven't taken twenty-eight roubles the whole year. If you were my own +son I wouldn't let you off; neither of the boys have ever cost me as +much.' + +His anger overcame him, he beat himself with his clenched fists. + +'Find the horses,' he cried, 'or I will give you in charge, go where +you like, look where you like, but don't show your face here without +them or one of us will die! I loathe you. Take that bastard or we will +let it starve, and be off!' + +'I will find the horses,' said Maciek, and drew his old sheepskin round +him with trembling hands; 'perhaps God will help me.' + +'The devil will help you, you low scoundrel,' said Slimak, and turned +away. + +'And leave your box,' added Jendrek. + +'He has paid us out for our kindness,' whimpered Slimakowa, wiping her +eyes. They went into the house. + +Not one of them had a kind glance to spare for Maciek, although he was +leaving them forever. + +Slowly and painfully he wrapped the child up in an old bit of a shirt +and a shawl, fastened his belt round himself and looked for a stick. + +His head was aching as if he were going through a severe illness; he +was unable to reason out the situation. He felt no resentment towards +Slimak for having beaten him and driven him away; the gospodarz was in +the right, of course; neither was he afraid of having no roof over his +head; people like him never had any roof of their own; he was not +thinking of the future. Another thought was torturing him...the horses. +For Slimak the horses were part of his working machinery, for Maciek +they were friends and brothers. Who but they in the whole world had +longed for him, had greeted him heartily when he returned, or looked +after him when he went out? No one but Wojtek and Kasztan. For years +they had shared hardships together. Now they were gone, perhaps led +away into misery, through his, Maciek's, fault. + +He fancied he heard them neighing. They were becoming sensible of what +was happening to them and were calling to him for help! + +'I am coming, I am coming,' he muttered, took the child on his arm, +seized the stick and limped forth. He did not look round, he would see +the gospodarstwo again when he came back with the horses. + +He saw Burek lying stark behind the barn, but he had no thought to +spare for him; he peered for the traces of the horses' feet. There they +were, stamped into the snow as into wax; Kasztan's large feet and the +broken hoof of Wojtek; here the thieves had mounted and ridden off at a +slow trot. How bold, how sure of themselves they had been! But Maciek +will find you! The peasant rancour in him had been awakened. If you +escape to the end of the world he will pursue you; if you dig +yourselves into the ground he will dig you out with his hands; if you +escape to Heaven he will stand at the gate and importune the saints +until they fly all over the universe and give him back the horses! + +On the highroad the tracks became less distinct, but they were still +recognizable. Maciek could read the whole history of the peregrination +in them. Here Kasztan had been startled and had shied; here the thief +had dismounted and altered Wojtek's bridle. What gentlemen they were, +these thieves, they came stealing in new boots, such as no gentleman +need have been ashamed of! + +Near the church the tracks became confused and, what was worse, +divided. Kasztan had been ridden to the right and Wojtek to the left. +After reflecting for a moment, Maciek followed the latter track, +possibly because it was clearer, but most likely because he loved that +little horse the best. About noon he found himself near the village +where Magda's uncle, the Soltys Grochowski, lived. He turned in there, +hoping for a bite of food; he was hungry and the little girl was +crying. + +Grochowski was at home and in the middle of receiving a sound rating +from his wife for no particular reason but just for the pleasure of it. +The huge man was sitting on the bench by the wall, with one arm on the +table and the other on the window-sill, listening with an expression of +fixed attention to his wife's homilies; this attention was, however, +assumed, for whenever she buried her head among the pots and pans on +the stove he yawned and stretched himself, pulling a face as if the +conversation had long been distasteful to him. + +As his wife was in the habit of relenting before strangers, so as not +to prejudice his office, Grochowski hailed Maciek's arrival gladly, and +ordered food for him and milk for the little girl, adding cold meat and +vodka to the repast when he heard the news that Slimak's horses had +been stolen and that Maciek was applying to him for advice. He even +talked of drawing up a statement, but the necessary implements were not +at hand. So he drew Maciek into the alcove for a long, whispered +conversation, the upshot of which was that they must proceed with +caution upon the track of the thieves, as certain strong influences +tied Grochowski's hands until he had clearer evidence. Maciek was also +given to understand why Jasiek Gryb had entertained the gospodarz and +his family so liberally, and Grochowski even seemed to know the man who +had presented Maciek with the monks' cordial and said that the woman in +the sledge was not a woman at all. + +'I will do whatever you tell me, Soltys,' said Maciek, embracing his +knees, 'even if you should send me to my death.' + +'It is no use tracking near here,' said the Soltys, 'we know all about +that, but it would be useful to know where the other track leads to. +Follow that as far as you can, and if you find any clue let me know at +once. You ought to be back here by to-morrow.' + +'And shall we find the horses?' + +'We shall find them even if we had to drag them out of the thieves' +bowels,' said the Soltys, looking fierce. + +It was about two o'clock when Maciek was ready to start. The Soltys +hinted that the child had better be left behind, but his wife was so +angry at the suggestion that he desisted. So Maciek tied her up again +in the old bits of clothing and went his way. + +He easily found Kasztan's tracks on the highroad and followed them for +an hour, when he thought that he must be nearing the thieves' quarters, +for the tracks had been covered up, and finally led into the ravines. +The frost was pinching harder and harder, but the breathless man +scarcely noticed the cold. From time to time clouds flew over the sky +and snow drifted along the ground in gusts; Maciek searched all the +more eagerly, so as not to miss the track before it should be covered +with fresh drifts. On and on he walked, never even noticing that +darkness was coming on and the snow was falling faster. + +Now and then he would sit down for a moment, too tired to go on, but he +jumped up again, for he fancied he heard Kasztan neighing. Probably it +was his aching head that produced these sounds, but at last they became +so loud that he left the track and cut right across the hill in the +direction from which they seemed to proceed. With his last remaining +strength he struggled with the bushes, fell, scrambled to his feet, and +continued. Then the neighing ceased and he found that he was in the +ravines, knee-deep in snow, and night-was falling. + +With difficulty he dragged himself on to a knoll to see where he was. +He could see nothing but snow--snow to the right and to the left, here +and there intercepted by bushes, the last streak of light had faded +from the sky. + +He tried to descend; in one place the slope was too steep, in another +there were too many bushes; at last he decided on an easier place and +put his stick forward; it gave way, and he fell after it for several +yards. It was fortunate that the snow lay waist-deep in this spot. + +The frightened child began its low sobbing, it had always been too weak +to cry heartily. Fear was knocking at Maciek's heart. + +'Surely, I can't have lost my way?' he thought, 'these are our ravines +that I know so well, yet I don't see my way out of them.' + +He started walking again, alternately in low and deep snow, until he +came upon a place that had been trodden down recently. He knelt down +and felt the tracks with his hands. They were his own footprints. + +'Dear me! I've been going round in a circle,' he muttered, and tried +another corridor of ravines which presently led him to the place where +he had slid down the hill. He fancied he heard murmurings overhead and +looked up, but it was only the rustling of the bushes. The wind had +sprung up on the hillside and was driving before it clouds of fine snow +which stung his face and hands like gnats. + +'Can it be that my hour has come?' he thought; 'No, no,' he whispered, +'not till I have found the horses, else they will take me for a thief.' +He wrapped the child more closely in the coverings; she had fallen +asleep in spite of shaking and discomfort; he walked about aimlessly, +so as to keep moving. + +'I won't be a fool and sit down,' he muttered, 'if I sit down I shall +be frozen, and the thieves will keep the horses.' + +The hard snow fell faster and faster, whitening Maciek from head to +foot; the wind swept along the top of the hills, and as he listened to +it, the man was glad that he had not been caught in the open. + +'It's quite warm here,' he said, 'but all the same I'm not going to sit +down, I must keep on walking till the morning.' + +But it was not yet midnight and Maciek's legs began to refuse +obedience, he could no longer push away the snow with his feet; he +stopped and stamped, but that was even more tiring; he leant against +the sides of the little cavity. The spot was excellent; it was raised +above the ravine, and the little hollow was just large enough to hold a +man; bushes sheltered it against the snow on all sides. But the +crowning advantage was a jutting piece of rock, about the size of a +stool. + +'No, I won't sit down,' he determined, 'I know I should get +frozen.... It's true,' he added after a while, 'it would not do to go +to sleep, but it can't hurt to sit down for a bit.' + +He boldly sat down, drew his cap over his ears and the clothes round +the sleeping child, and decided that he would alternately rest and +stamp, and so await the morning. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep,' he kept on reminding himself. He +fancied the air was getting a little warmer and his feet were thawing. +Instead of the cold he felt ants creeping under the soles of his feet. +They crept in among his toes, swarmed over his injured leg, then over +the other, and reached his knees. In a mysterious way one had suddenly +settled on his nose; he wanted to flick it off, but a whole swarm was +sitting on his arms. He decided not to drive them away, for in the +first place they were keeping him awake, and then he rather liked them. +He smiled, as one reached his waist, and did not ask how they came to +be there. It was not surprising that there should be ant-hills in the +ravines, and he forgot that it was winter. + +'So long as I don't go to sleep...so long as I don't go to sleep....' +But at last he asked himself 'Why am I not to go to sleep? It's night +and I am in the stable? The thieves might be coming, that's it!' + +He grasped his stick more firmly; whispers seemed to be stirring all +round. + +'Oho! they are opening the stable door, there is the snow, this time I +will give it to them....' + +The thieves must have found out that he was on the watch this time and +made off. Maciek laughed; now he could go to sleep. He straightened his +back, pressed the little girl close. + +'Just a moment's sleep,' he reminded himself, 'I've something to do, +but what is it? Ploughing? no, that's done. Water the horses.. the +horses....' + +After midnight the moon dispersed the clouds and the new moon peeped +out and looked straight into the sleeper's face: but the man did not +move. Fresh clouds came up and hid the moon, yet he did not move. He +sat in the hollow of the hill, his head leaning against its side, the +child clasped to his breast. + +At last the sun rose, but even then he did not move. He seemed to be +gazing in astonishment at the railway line, not more than twenty steps +away from his resting place. + +The sun was high when a signalman came along the permanent way. He +caught sight of the sleeper and shouted, but there was no answer, and +the man approached. + +'Heh, father! have you been drinking?' he called out, as he went round +the hollow at a distance. At last, hardly believing his eyes, he went +up to the silent sitter and touched his hand. + +Maciek's and the child's faces were hard, as if they had been cast in +wax, hoarfrost lay on his lashes, and frozen moisture stood on the +child's lips. The signalman's arms dropped in astonishment; he wanted +to call for help, but remembered that no one would hear him. He turned +and ran at full speed to the Soltys' office. + +In the course of an hour or two a sledge with some men arrived to +remove the bodies. But Maciek's was frozen so hard that it was +impossible to open his arms or straighten his legs, so they put him in +the sledge as he was. He went for his last drive with the child on his +knees, his head resting against the rail, and his face turned upwards, +as though he had done with human reckoning and was recounting his +wrongs to his Creator. + +When the mournful procession stopped, a small crowd of peasants, women, +and Jews gathered in front of the Wojt's office. The Wojt, his clerk, +and Grochowski were standing together. A shudder of remorse seized the +latter, he guessed who the man and child were that had been found, +frozen to death. He explained to the crowd what Maciek had told him. + +When he had finished, the men turned away, the women groaned, the Jews +spat on the ground; only Jasiek, the son of the rich peasant Gryb, +lighted an expensive cigar and smiled. He put his hands in the pockets +of his sheepskin coat, stuck out first one foot, then the other, to +display his elegant top-boots that reached above his knees, sucked his +cigar, and continued to smile. The men looked at him with aversion, but +the women, although shocked, did not think him repulsive. Was he not a +tall, broadshouldered, graceful lad, with a complexion like milk and +blood, and eyes the colour of a bluebottle, and did he not trim his +moustaches and beard like a nobleman? It was a pity he was not a +foreman with plenty of opportunities of ordering the girls about! The +men, however, were whispering among themselves that he was a scoundrel +who would come to a bad end. + +'Certainly it was wrong of Slimak to send the poor wretch away in such +weather,' said the Wojt. + +'It was a shame,' murmured the women. + +'It's only natural he should be angry when his horses had been stolen,' +said one of the men. + +'Driving him away did not bring the horses back, and he will have the +two poor souls on his conscience till he dies,' cried an old woman. + +Grochowski was seized with shuddering again. + +'It was not so much that Slimak drove him away, but that he himself was +anxious to go,' he said quickly, 'he wanted to track the thieves;' here +he gave a quick glance at Jasiek, who returned it insolently, and +observed that horse-thieves were sharp, and more people might meet +their death in tracking them. + +'They may find that there is a limit to it,' said Grochowski. + +The policeman now proceeded to examine the corpses, and the Wojt was +standing by with a wry face, as if he had bitten on a peppercorn. + +'We must drive them to the district police-court,' he said; 'Stojka,' +turning to the owner of the sledge, 'drive on, we will overtake you +presently. This is the first time that any one in this parish has ever +been frozen to death.' + +Stojka demurred and scratched his head, but he took up the reins and +lashed the horses; after all, it was only a few versts, and one need +not look much at the passengers. He walked by the side of the sledge +and Grochowski and a man who was to make closer acquaintance with the +police-court, for spoiling his neighbour's bucket, went with him. + +It so happened that, just as the Wojt was dispatching the bodies to the +police-court, the police officer was sending 'Silly Zoska' back to her +native village. A few months after leaving her child in Maciek's care +she had been arrested; the reason was unknown to her. As a matter of +fact she had been accused of begging, vagrancy, and attempted arson. +After the discovery of each new crime, they had taken her from police- +station to prison, from prison to infirmary, from infirmary to another +prison, and so on for a whole year. + +During her peregrinations Zoska had behaved with complete indifference; +when she was taken to a new place she would worry at first whether she +would find work. After that she became apathetic and slept the greater +part of the time, on her plank bed, or waiting in corridors and +prison-yards. It was all the same to her. At times she began to long for +freedom and her child, and then she fell into accesses of fury. Now +they were sending her back under escort of two peasants; one carried +the papers relating to her case, and the other had come to keep him +company. She had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other, a +sukmana in holes, and a handkerchief like a sieve on her head. She +walked quickly in front of the men, as if she were in a hurry to get +back, yet neither the familiar neighbourhood nor the hard frost seemed +to make any impression on her. When the men called out: 'Heh! not so +fast!' she stood as still as a post, and waited till they told her to +go on. + +'She's quite daft!' said one. + +'She's always been like that,' said the other, who had known her a long +time, 'yet she's not bad at rough work.' + +A few versts from the village, where the chimneys peeped out from +beyond the snowy hills, they came upon the little cortčge. The +attendants, noticing something unusual in the look of it, stopped and +talked to the Soltys. + +'Look, Zoska,' said the latter to the woman who was standing by +indifferently, 'that is your little girl.' + +She approached without seeming to understand; slowly, however, her face +acquired a human expression. + +'What's fallen upon them?' + +'They have been frozen.' + +'Why have they been frozen?' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house.' + +'Slimak drove them out of the house?' she repeated, fingering the +bodies, 'yes, that's my little girl, she's grown a bit; whoever heard +of a child being frozen to death?... she was meant to come to a bad +end. As God loves me, yes, that's my girl, my little girl--they've +murdered her; look at her!' she suddenly became animated. + +'Drive on,' said the Soltys, 'we must be getting on.' + +The horses started, Zoska tried to get into the sledge. + +'What are you doing?' cried her attendants, pulling her back. + +'That's my little girl!' cried Zoska, holding on. + +'What if she is yours?' said the Soltys, 'there's one road for you and +another for her.' + +'She's my little girl, mine!' With both hands the woman held on to the +sledge, but the peasant whipped up the horses and she fell to the +ground; she grasped the runners and was dragged along for several +yards. + +'Don't behave like a lunatic,' cried the men, detaching her with +difficulty from the fast-moving sledge; she would have run after it, +but one of them knelt on her feet and the other held her by the +shoulders. + +'She's my little girl; Slimak has let her freeze to death.... God +punish him, may he freeze to death himself!' she screamed. + +Gradually, as the sledge moved away, she calmed down, her livid face +assumed its copper colour, and her eyes became dull. She fell back into +her old apathy. + +'She's forgotten all about it,' said one of her companions. + +'These lunatics are often happier than other people,' answered the +friend. Then they walked on in silence. Nothing was heard but the +creaking snow under their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +The loss of his horses had almost driven Slimak crazy. Beating Maciek +and kicking him out had not exhausted his anger. He felt the room +oppressive, walked out into the yard and ran up and down with clenched +fists and bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance to vent his temper. + +He remembered that he ought to feed the cows and went into the stable, +where he pushed the animals about, and when one clumsily trod on his +foot, he seized a fork and beat her mercilessly. He kicked Burek's body +behind the barn. 'You damned dog, if you had not taken bread from +strangers, I should still have my horses!' + +He returned to the room and threw himself on the bench with such +violence that he upset the block for wood-chopping. Jendrek laughed, +but his father unbuckled his belt and did not stop beating him till the +boy crept, bleeding, under the bench. With the belt in his hand Slimak +waited for his wife to make a remark. But she remained silent, only +holding on to the chimney-piece for support. + +'What makes you stagger? Haven't you got over yesterday's vodka?' + +'Something's wrong with me,' she answered low. + +He decided to strap on his belt. 'What's wrong?' + +'I can't see, and there's a noise in my ears. Is any one whistling?' + +'Don't drink vodka and you'll hear no noises,' he said, spitting, and +went out. It surprised him that she had made no remark after the +thrashing he had given Jendrek, and having no one to beat, he seized an +axe and chopped wood until nightfall, eating nothing all day. Logs and +splinters fell round him, he felt as if he were revenging himself on +his enemies, and when he left off, stiff and tired, his shirt soaked +with perspiration, his anger had gone from him. + +He was surprised to find no one in the room and peeped into the alcove; +Slimakowa was lying on the bed. + +'What's the matter' + +'I'm not well, but it's nothing.' + +'The fire has gone out.' + +'Out?' she asked vaguely, raising herself. She got up and lighted the +fire with difficulty, her husband watching her. + +'You see,' he said presently, 'you got hot yesterday and then you would +drink water out of the Jew's pewter pot and unbutton your jacket. You +have caught cold.' + +'It's nothing,' she said ill-humouredly, pulled herself together and +warmed up the supper. Jendrek crept out and took a spoon, but cried +instead of eating. + +During the night, at about the hour when the unhappy Maciek was drawing +his last breath in the ravines, Slimakowa was seized with violent fits +of shivering. Slimak covered her with his sheepskin and it passed off. +She got up in the morning, and although she complained of pains, she +went about her work. Slimak was depressed. + +Towards evening a sledge stopped at the gate and the innkeeper Josel +entered with a strange expression on his face. Slimak's conscience +pricked him. + +'The Lord be praised,' said Josel. + +'In Eternity.' + +A silence ensued. + +'You have nothing to ask?' said the Jew. + +'What should I have to ask?' Slimak looked into his eyes and +involuntarily grew pale. + +'To-morrow,' Josel said slowly, 'to-morrow Jendrek's trial is coming on +for violence to Hermann.' + +'They'll do nothing to him.' + +'I expect he will have to sit in jail for a bit.' + +'Then let him sit, it will cure him of fighting.' + +Again silence fell. The Jew shook his head; Slimak's alarm grew. + +He screwed up his courage at last and asked: 'What else?' + +'What's the use of making many words?' said the Jew, holding up his +hands, 'Maciek and the child have been frozen to death.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet and looked for something to throw at the Jew, +but staggered and held on to the wall. A hot wave rushed over him, his +legs shook. Then he wondered why he should have been seized with fear +like this. + +'Where...when?' + +'In the ravines close to the railway line.' + +'But when?' + +'You know quite well that it was yesterday when you drove them out.' +Slimak's anger was rising. + +'As I live! the Jew is a liar! Frozen to death? What did he go to the +ravines for? are there no cottages in the world?' + +The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders and got up. + +'You can believe it or not, it's all the same to me, but I myself saw +them being driven to the police-station.' + +'Ah well! What harm can they do to me, because Maciek has been frozen?' + +'Perhaps men can't do you harm, but, man, before God! or don't you +believe in God?' the Jew asked from the other side of the door, his +burning eyes fixed on Slimak. + +The peasant stood still and listened to his heavy tread down to the +gate and to the sound of his departing sledge. He shook himself, turned +round and met Jendrek's eyes looking fixedly at him from the far +corner. + +'Why should I be to blame?' he muttered. Suddenly an annual sermon, +preached by an old priest, flashed through his mind; he seemed to hear +the peculiar cadence of his voice as he said: 'I was an hungered and ye +gave me no meat.... I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'By God, the Jew is lying,' he exclaimed. These words seemed to break +the spell; he felt sure Maciek and the child were alive, and he almost +went out to call them in to supper. + +'A low Jew, that Josel,' he said to his wife, while he covered her +again with the sheepskin, when her shivering-fits returned. Nothing +should induce him to believe that story. + +Next day the village Soltys drove up with the summons for Jendrek. + +'His trial does not come on till to-morrow,' he said, 'but as I was +driving that way, I thought he might as well come with me.' + +Jendrek grew pale and silently put on his new sukmana and sheepskin. + +'What will they do to him?' his father asked peevishly. + +'Eh! I dare say he'll get a few days, perhaps a week.' + +Slimak slowly pulled a rouble out of a little packet. + +'And...Soltys, have you heard what the accursed Jew has been saying +about Maciek and the child being frozen to death?' + +'How shouldn't I have heard?' said the Soltys, reluctantly; 'it's +true.' + +'Frozen...frozen?' + +'Yes, of course. But,' he added, 'every one understands that it's not +your fault. He didn't look after the horses and you discharged him. No +one told him to go down into the ravines. + +He must have been drunk. The poor wretch died through his own +stupidity.' + +Jendrek was ready to start, and embraced his parents' knees. Slimak +gave him the rouble, tears came into his eyes; his mother, however, +showed no sign of interest. + +'Jagna,' Slimak said with concern, 'Jendrek is going to his trial.' + +'What of that?' she answered with a delirious look. + +'Are you very ill?' + +'No, I'm only weak.' + +She went into the alcove and Slimak remained alone. The longer he sat +pondering the lower his head dropped on to his chest. Half dozing, he +fancied he was sitting on a wide, grey plain, no bushes, no grass, not +even stones were to be seen; there was nothing in front of him; but at +his side there was something he dared not look at. It was Maciek with +the child looking steadily at him. + +No, he would not look, he need not look! He need see nothing of him, +except a little bit of his sukmana...perhaps not even that! + +The thought of Maciek was becoming an obsession. He got up and began to +busy himself with the dishes. + +'What am I coming to? It doesn't do to give way!' + +He pulled himself together, fed the cattle, ran to the river for water. +It was so long since he had done these things that he felt rejuvenated, +and but for the thought of Maciek he would have been almost cheerful. + +His gloom returned with the dusk. It was the silence that tormented him +most. Nothing stirred but the mice behind the boards. The voice was +haunting him again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'It's all the fault of those scoundrel Swabians that everything is +going wrong with me,' he muttered, and began to count his losses on the +window-pane: 'Stasiek, that's one, the cow two, the horses four, +because the thieves did that out of spite for the hog, Burek five, +Jendrek six, Maciek and the child eight, and Magda had to leave, and my +wife is ill with worry, that makes ten. Lord Christ...!' + +Trembling seized him and he gripped his hair; he had never in his life +felt fear like this, though he had looked death in the face more than +once. He had suddenly caught a glimpse of the power the Germans were +exercising, and it scared him. They had destroyed all his life's work, +and yet you could not bring it home to them. They had lived like +others, ploughed, prayed, taught their children; you could not say they +were doing any wrong, and yet they had made his home desolate simply by +being there. They had blasted what was near them as smoke from a kiln +withers all green things. + +Not until this moment had the thought ever come to him: 'I am too close +to them! The gospodarstwos farther off do not suffer like this. What +good is the land, if the people on it die?' + +This new aspect was so horrible to him that he felt he must escape from +it; he glanced at his wife, she was asleep. The cadence of the priest's +voice began to haunt him again. + +Steps were approaching through the yard. The peasant straightened +himself. Could it be Jendrek? The door creaked. No, it was a strange +hand that groped along the wall in the darkness. He drew back, and his +head swam when the door opened and Zoska stood on the threshold. + +For a moment both stood silent, then Zoska said: + +'Be praised.' + +She began rubbing her hands over the fire. + +The idea of Maciek and the child and Zoska had become confused in +Slimak's mind; he looked at her as if she were an apparition from the +other world. 'Where do you come from?' His voice was choked. + +'They sent me back to the parish and told me to look out for work. They +said they wouldn't keep loafers.' + +Seeing the food in the saucepan, she began to lick her lips like a dog. + +'Pour out a basin of soup for yourself.' + +She did as she was told. + +'Don't you want a servant?' she asked presently. + +'I don't know; my wife is ill.' + +'There you are! It's quiet here. Where's Magda?' + +'Left.' + +'Jendrek?' + +'Sent up for trial.' + +'There you are! Stasiek?' + +'Drowned last summer,' he whispered, fearful lest Maciek's and the +little girl's turn should come next. + +But she ate greedily like a wild animal, and asked nothing further. + +'Does she know?' he thought. + +Zoska had finished and struck her hand cheerfully on her knee. He took +courage. + +'Can I stop the night?' + +Uneasiness seized him; any other guest would have been a blessing in +his solitude, but Zoska.... If she did not know the truth, what ill +wind had blown her here? And if she knew?...' + +He reflected. In the intense silence suddenly the priest's voice +started again: 'I was a stranger and ye took me not in.' + +'All right, stop here, but you must sleep in this room.' + +'Or in the barn?' + +'No, here.' + +He hardly knew what it was that he feared; there was a vague sense of +misfortune in the air which was tormenting him. + +The fire died down. Zoska lay down on the bench in her rags and Slimak +went into the alcove. He sat on the bed, determined to be on the watch. +He did not know that this strange state of mind is called 'nerves'. Yet +a kind of relief had come in with Zoska; she had driven away the +spectre of Maciek and the child. But an iron ring was beginning to +press on his head. This was sleep, heavy sleep, the companion of great +anguish. He dreamt that he was split in two; one part of him was +sitting by his sick wife, the other was Maciek, standing outside the +window, where sunflowers bloomed in the summer. This new Maciek was +unlike the old one, he was gloomy and vindictive. + +'Don't believe,' said the strange guest, 'that I shall forgive you. +It's not so much that I got frozen, that might happen to anyone the +worse for drink, but you drove me away for no fault of mine after I had +served you so long. And what harm had the child done to you? Don't turn +away! Pass judgment on yourself for what you have done. God will not +let these wrongs be done and keep silent.' + +'What shall I say?' thought Slimak, bathed in perspiration. 'He is +telling the truth, I am a scoundrel. He shall fix the punishment, +perhaps he will get it over quickly.' + +His wife moved and he opened his eyes, but closed them again. A rosy +brightness filled the room, the frost glittered in flowers on the +window panes. 'Daylight?' he thought. + +No, it was not daylight, the rosy brightness trembled. A smell of +burning was heavy in the room. + +'Fire?' + +He looked into the room; Zoska had disappeared. + +'I knew it!' he exclaimed, and ran out into the yard. + +His house was indeed on fire; the roof towards the highroad was alight, +but owing to the thick layers of snow the flames spread but slowly; he +could still have saved the house, but he did not even think of this. + +'Get up, Jagna,' he cried, running back into the alcove, 'the house is +on fire!' + +'Leave me alone,' said the delirious woman, covering her head with the +sheepskin. He seized her and, stumbling over the threshold, carried her +into the shed, fetched her clothes and bedding, broke open the chest +and took out his money; finally he threw everything he could lay hands +on out of the window. Here was at least something tangible to fight. +The whole roof was now ablaze; smoke and flames were coming into the +room from the boarded ceiling. He was dragging the bench through the +brightly illuminated yard when he happened to look at the barn; he +stood petrified. Flames were licking at it, and there stood Zoska +shaking her clenched fist at him and shouting: 'That's my thanks to +you, Slimak, for taking care of my child, now you shall die as she +did!' + +She flew out of the yard and up the hill; he could see her by the light +of the fire, dancing and clapping her hands. + +'Fire, fire!' she shouted. + +Slimak reeled like a wild animal after the first shot. Then he slowly +went towards the barn and sat down, not thinking of seeking help. This +was the beginning of the divine punishment for the wrong he had done. + +'We shall all die!' he murmured. + +Both buildings were burning like pillars of fire, and in spite of the +frost Slimak felt hot in the shed. Suddenly shouts and clattering came +from the settlement; the Germans were coming to his assistance. Soon +the yard was swarming with them, men, women and children with hand- +fire-engines and buckets. They formed into groups, and at Fritz Hamer's +command began to pull down the burning masses and to put out the fire. +Laughing and emulating each other in daring, they went into the fire as +into a dance; some of the most venturesome climbed up the walls of the +burning buildings. Zoska approached once more from the side of the +ravines. + +'Never mind the Germans helping you, you will die all the same,' she +cried. + +'Who is that?' shouted the settlers, 'catch her!' + +But Zoska was too quick for them. + +'I suppose it was she who set fire to your house?' asked Fritz. + +'No one else but she.' + +Fritz was silent for a moment. + +'It would be better for you to sell us the land.' + +The peasant hung his head.... + +The barn could not be saved, but the walls of the cottage were still +standing; some of the people were busy putting out the fire, others +surrounded the sick woman. + +'What are you going to do?' Fritz began again. + +'We will live in the stable.' + +The women whispered that they had better be taken to the settlement, +but the men shook their heads, saying the woman might be infectious. +Fritz inclined to this opinion and ordered her to be well wrapped up +and taken into the stable. + +'We will send you what you need,' he said. + +'God reward you,' said Slimak, embracing his knees. + +Fritz took Hermann aside. + +'Drive full speed to Wolka,' he said, 'and fetch miller Knap; we may be +able to settle this affair to-night.' + +'It's high time we did,' replied the other, audibly, 'we shan't hold +out till the spring unless we do.' + +Fritz swore. + +Nevertheless, he took leave benevolently. Bending over the sick woman +he said: 'She is quite unconscious.' + +But in a strangely decided voice she ejaculated: 'Ah! unconscious!' + +He drew back in confusion. 'She is delirious,' he said. + +At daybreak the Germans brought the promised help, but Slimak paced +backwards and forwards among the ruins of his homestead, from which the +smell of smouldering embers rose pungently. He looked at his household +goods, tumbled into the yard. How many times had he sat on that bench +and cut notches and crosses into it when a boy. That heap of +smouldering ruins represented his storehouse and the year's crop. How +small the cottage looked now that it was reduced to walls, and how +large the chimney! He took out his money, hid it under a heap of dry +manure in the stable and strolled about again. Up the hill he went, +with a feeling that they were talking about him in the village and +would come to his help. But there was no one to be seen on the +boundless covering of snow; here and there smoke rose from the +cottages. + +His imagination, keener than usual, conjured up old pictures. He +fancied he was harrowing on the hill with the two chestnuts who were +whisking their tails under his nose; the sparrows were twittering, +Stasiek gazing into the river; by the bridge his wife was beating the +linen, he could hear the resounding smacks, while the squire's +brother-in-law was wildly galloping up and down the valley. Jendrek and +Magda were answering each other in snatches of songs.... + +Suddenly he was awakened from his dreams by the stench of his burnt +cottage; he looked up, and everything he saw became abominable to him. +The frozen river, into which his child would never gaze again; the +empty, hideous homestead; he longed to escape from it all and go far +away and forget Stasiek and Maciek and the whole accursed gospodarstwo. +He could buy land more cheaply elsewhere with the money he would get +from the Germans. What was the good of the land if it was ruining the +people on it? + +He went into the stable and lay down near his wife, who was moaning +deliriously, and soon fell asleep. + +At noon old Hamer appeared, accompanied by a German woman who carried +two bowls of hot soup. He stood over Slimak and poked him with his +stick. + +'Hey, get up!' + +Slimak roused himself and looked about heavily; seeing the hot food he +ate greedily. Hamer sat down in the doorway, smoking his pipe and +watching Slimak; he nodded contentedly to himself. + +'I've been down to the village to ask Gryb and the other gospodarze to +come and help you, for that is a Christian duty....' + +He waited for the peasant's thanks, but Slimak went on eating and did +not look at him. + +'I told them they ought to take you in; but they said, God was +punishing you for the death of the labourer and the child and they +didn't wish to interfere. They are no Christians.' + +Slimak had finished eating, but he remained silent. + +'Well, what are you going to do?' + +Slimak wiped his mouth and said: 'I shall sell.' Hamer poked his pipe +with deliberation. + +'To whom?' + +'To you.' + +Hamer again busied himself with his pipe. + +'All right! I am willing to buy, as you have fallen upon bad times. But +I can only give you seventy roubles.' + +'You were giving a hundred not long ago.' + +'Why didn't you take it?' + +'That's true, why didn't I take it? Everyone profits as he can.' + +'Have you never tried to profit?' + +'I have.' + +'Then will you take it?' + +'Why shouldn't I take it?' + +'We will settle the matter at my house to-night.' + +'The sooner the better.' + +'Well, since it is so,' Hamer added after a while, 'I will give you +seventy-five roubles, and you shan't be left to die here. You and your +wife can come to the school; you can spend the winter with us and I +will give you the same pay as my own farm-labourers.' + +Slimak winced at the word 'farm-labourer', but he said nothing. + +'And your gospodarze,' concluded Hamer, 'are brutes. They will do +nothing for you.' + +Before sunset a sledge conveyed the unconscious woman to the +settlement. Slimak remained, recovered his money from under the manure, +collected a few possessions and milked the cows. + +The dumb animals looked reproachfully at him and seemed to ask: 'Are +you sure you have done the best you could, gospodarz?' + +'What am I to do?' he returned, 'the place is unlucky, it is bewitched. +Perhaps the Germans can take the spell away, I can't.' + +He felt as if his feet were being held to the ground, but he spat at +it. 'Much I have to be thankful to you for! Barren land, far from +everybody so that thieves may profit!' He would not look back. + +On the way he met two German farm-labourers, who had come to spend the +night in the stable; as he passed them, they laughed. + +'Catch me spending the winter with you scoundrels! I'm off directly the +wife is well and the boy out of jail.' + +A black shadow detached itself from the gate when he reached the +settlement, 'Is that you, schoolmaster?' + +'Yes. So you have consented after all to sell your land?' + +Slimak was silent. + +'Perhaps it's the best thing you can do. If you can't make much of it +yourself, at least you can save others.' He looked round and lowered +his voice. 'But mind you bargain well, for you are doing them a good +turn. Miller Knap will pay cash down as soon as the contract has been +signed and give his daughter to Wilhelm. Otherwise Hirschgold will turn +the Hamers out at midsummer and sell the land to Gryb. They have a +heavy contract with the Jew.' + +'What? Gryb would buy the settlement?' + +'Indeed he would. He is anxious to settle his son too, and Josel has +been sniffing round for a month past. So there's your chance, bargain +well.' + +'Why, damn it,' said Slimak, 'I would rather have a hundred Germans +than that old Judas.' + +A door creaked and the schoolmaster changed the conversation. 'Come +this way, your wife is in the schoolroom.' + +'Is that Slimak?' Fritz called out. + +'It is I.' + +'Don't stay long with your wife, she is being looked after, and we want +you at daybreak; you must sleep in the kitchen.' + +The noise of loud conversation and clinking of glasses came from the +back of the house, but the large schoolroom was empty, and only lighted +by a small lamp. His wife was lying on a plank bed; a pungent smell of +vinegar pervaded the room. That smell took the heart out of Slimak; +surely his wife must be very ill! He stood over her; her eye-lashes +twitched and she looked steadily at him. + +'Is it you, Josef?' + +'Who else should it be?' + +Her hands moved about restlessly on the sheepskin; she said distinctly: +'What are you doing, Josef, what are you doing?' + +'You see I am standing here.' + +'Ah yes, you are standing there...but what are you doing? I know +everything, never fear!' + +'Go away, gospodarz,' hurriedly cried the old woman, pushing him +towards the door, 'she is getting excited, it isn't good for her.' + +'Josef!' cried Slimakowa, 'come back! Josef, I must speak to you!' The +peasant hesitated. + +'You are doing no good,' whispered the schoolmaster, 'she is rambling, +she may go to sleep when you are out of sight.' + +He drew Slimak into the passage, and Fritz Hamer at once took him to +the further room. + +Miller Knap and old Hamer were sitting at a brightly lighted table +behind their beer mugs, blowing clouds of smoke from their pipes. The +miller had the appearance of a huge sack of flour as he sat there in +his shirtsleeves, holding a full pot of beer in his hand and wiping the +perspiration off his forehead. Gold studs glittered in his shirt. + +'Well, you are going to let us have your land at last?' he shouted. + +'I don't know,' said the peasant in a low voice, 'maybe I shall sell +it.' The miller roared with laughter. + +'Wilhelm,' he bellowed, as if Wilhelm, who was officiating at the +beer-barrel on the bench, were half a mile off, 'pour out some beer for +this man. Drink to my health and I'll drink to yours, although you +never used to bring me your corn to grind. But why didn't you sell us +your land before?' + +'I don't know,' said the peasant, taking a long pull. + +'Fill up his glass,' shouted the miller, 'I will tell you why; it's +because you don't know your own mind. Determination is what you want. +I've said to myself: I will have a mill at Wolka, and a mill at Wolka I +have, although the Jews twice set fire to it. I said: My son shall be a +doctor, and a doctor he will be. And now I've said: Hamer, your son +must have a windmill, so he must have a windmill. Pour out another +glass, Wilhelm, good beer...eh? my son-in-law brews it. What? no more +beer? Then we'll go to bed.' + +Fritz pushed Slimak into the kitchen, where one of the farm-hands was +asleep already. He felt stupefied; whether it was with the beer or with +Knap's noisy conversation, he could not tell. He sat down on his plank +bed and felt cheerful. The noise of conversation in German reached him +from the adjoining room; then the Hamers left the house. Miller Knap +stamped about the room for a while; presently his thick voice repeated +the Lord's prayer while he was pulling off his boots and throwing them +into a corner: 'Amen amen,' he concluded, and flung himself heavily +upon the bed; a few moments later noises as if he were being throttled +and murdered proclaimed that he was asleep. + +The moon was throwing a feeble light through the small squares of the +window. + +Between waking and sleeping Slimak continued to meditate: 'Why +shouldn't I sell? It's better to buy fifteen acres of land elsewhere, +than to stay and have Jasiek Gryb as a neighbour. The sooner I sell, +the better.' He got up as if he wished to settle the matter at once, +laughed quietly to himself and felt more and more intoxicated. + +Then he saw a human shadow outlined against the window pane; someone +was trying to look into the room. The peasant approached the window and +became sober. He ran into the passage and pulled the door open with +trembling hands. Frosty air fanned his face. His wife was standing +outside, still trying to look through the window. + +'Jagna, for God's sake, what are you doing here? Who dressed you?' + +'I dressed myself, but I couldn't manage my boots, they are quite +crooked. Come home,' she said, drawing him by the hand. + +'Where, home? Are you so ill that you don't know our home is burnt +down? Where will you go on a bitter night like this?' + +Hamer's mastiffs were beginning to growl. Slimakowa hung on her +husband's arm. 'Come home, come home,' she urged stubbornly, 'I will +not die in a strange house, I am a gospodyni, I will not stay here with +the Swabians. The priests would not even sprinkle holy water on my +coffin.' + +She pulled him and he went; the dogs went after them for a while +snapping at their clothes; they made straight for the frozen river, so +as to reach their own nest the sooner. On the riverbank they stopped +for a moment, the tired woman was out of breath. + +'You have let yourself be tempted by the Germans to sell them your +land! You think I don't know. Perhaps you will say it is not true?' she +cried, looking wildly into his eyes. He hung his head. + +'You traitor, you son of a dog!' she burst out. 'Sell your land! You +would sell the Lord Jesus to the Jews! Tired of being a gospodarz, are +you? What is Jendrek to do? And is a gospodyni to die in a stranger's +house?' + +She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' +she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! +Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if +you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after +death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and +open them again...listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you +sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn +to blood in your mouth.' + +'Jesus!' whispered the man. + +'...Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a +spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.' + +'Jesus...Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his +ears. + +'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He +shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on +filthy litter?' + +'Not though I had to draw...so help me God!' + +The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and +reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed. + +'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared. + +'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.' + +They demurred and he kicked them both out. They went off, cursing and +threatening him. + +Slimak laid his wife down on the warm litter and strolled about the +yard, thinking that he must presently fetch help for her and a doctor. +Now and then he looked into the stable; she seemed to be sleeping +quietly. Her great peacefulness began to strike him, his head was +swimming, he heard noises in his ears; he knelt down and pulled her by +the hand; she was dead, even cold. + +'Now I don't care if I go to the devil,' he said, raked some straw into +a corner and was asleep within a few minutes. + +It was afternoon when he was at last awakened by old Sobieska. + +'Get up, Slimak! your wife is dead! God's faith! dead as a stone.' + +'How can I help it?' said the peasant, turning over and drawing his +sheepskin over his head. + +'But you must buy a coffin and notify the parish.' + +'Let anyone who cares do that.' + +'Who will do it? In the village they say it's God's punishment on you. +And won't the Germans take it out of you! That fat man has quarrelled +with them. Josel says you are now reaping the benefit of selling your +fowls: he threatened me if I came here to see you. Get up now!' + +'Let me be or I'll kick you!' + +'You godless man, is your wife to lie there without Christian burial?' +He advanced his boot so vehemently that the old woman ran screaming out +along the highroad. + +Slimak pushed to the door and lay down again. A hard +peasant-stubbornness had seized him. He was certain that he was past +salvation. He neither accused himself nor regretted anything; he only +wanted to be left to sleep eternally. Divine pity could have saved him, +but he no longer believed in divine pity, and no human hand would do so +much as give him a cup of water. + +While the sound of the evening-bells floated through the air, and the +women in the cottages whispered the Angelus, a bent figure approached +the gospodarstwo, a sack on his back, a stick in his hand; the glory of +the setting sun surrounded him. Such as these are the 'angels' which +the Lord sends to people in the extremity of their sorrow. + +It was Jonah Niedoperz, the oldest and poorest Jew in the +neighbourhood; he traded in everything and never had any money to keep +his large family, with whom he lived in a half-ruined cottage with +broken windowpanes. Jonah was on his way to the village and was +meditating deeply. Would he get a job there? would he live to have a +dinner of pike on the Sabbath? would his little grandchildren ever have +two shirts to their backs? + +'Aj waj!' he muttered, 'and they even took the three roubles from me!' +He had never forgotten that robbery in the autumn, for it was the +largest sum he had ever possessed. + +His glance fell on the burnt homestead. Good God! if such a thing +should ever befall the cottage where his wife and daughters, +sons-in-law and grandchildren lived! His emotion grew when he heard the +cows lowing miserably. He approached the stable. + +'Slimak! My good lady gospodyni!' he cried, tapping at the door. He was +afraid to open it lest he should be suspected of prying into other +people's business. + +'Who is that?' asked Slimak. + +'It's only I, old Jonah,' he said, and peeped in, 'but what's wrong +with your honours?' he asked in astonishment. + +'My wife is dead.' 'Dead? how dead? what do you mean by such a joke? +Ajwaj! really-dead?' He looked attentively at her. + +'Such a good gospodyni...what a misfortune, God defend us! And you are +lying there and don't see about the funeral?' + +'There may as well be two,' murmured the peasant. + +'How two? are you ill?' + +'No.' + +The Jew shook his head and spat. 'It can't be like this; if you won't +move I will go and give notice; tell me what to do.' + +Slimak did not answer. The cows began to low again. + +'What is the matter with the cows?' the Jew asked interestedly. + +'I suppose they want water.' + +'Then why don't you water them?' + +No answer came. The Jew looked at Slimak and waited, then he tapped his +forehead. 'Where is the pail, gospodarz?' + +'Leave me alone.' + +But Jonah did not give in. He found the pail, ran to the ice-hole and +watered the cows; he had sympathy for cows, because he dreamt of +possessing one himself one day, or at least a goat. Then he put the +pail close to Slimak. He was exhausted with this unusually hard work. + +'Well, gospodarz, what is to happen now?' + +His pity touched Slimak, but failed to rouse him. He raised his head. +'If you should see Grochowski, tell him not to sell the land before +Jendrek is of age.' + +'But what am I to do now, when I get to the village?' + +Slimak had relapsed into silence. + +The Jew rested his chin in his hand and pondered for a while; at last +he took his bundle and stick and went off. The miserable old man's pity +was so strong that he forgot his own needs and only thought of saving +the other. Indeed, he was unable to distinguish between himself and his +fellow-creature, and he felt as if he himself were lying on the straw +beside his dead wife and must rouse himself at all costs. + +He went as fast as his old legs would carry him straight to Grochowski; +by the time he arrived it was dark. He knocked, but received no answer, +waited for a quarter of an hour and then walked round the house. +Despairing at last of making himself heard, he was just going to +depart, when Grochowski suddenly confronted him, as if the ground had +produced him. + +'What do you want, Jew?' asked the huge man, concealing some long +object behind his back. + +'What do I want?' quavered the frightened Jew, 'I have come straight +from Slimak's. Do you know that his house is burnt down, his wife is +dead, and he is lying beside her, out of his wits? He talks as if he +had a filthy idea in his head, and he hasn't even watered the cows.' + +'Listen, Jew,' said Grochowski fiercely, 'who told you to come here and +lie to me? is it those horse-stealers?' + +'What horse-stealers? I've come straight from Slimak....' + +'Lies! You won't draw me away from here, whatever you do.' + +The Jew now perceived that it was a gun which Grochowski was hiding +behind his back, and the sight so unnerved him that he nearly fell +down. He fled at full speed along the highroad. Even now, however, he +did not forget Slimak, but walked on towards the village to find the +priest. + +The priest had been in the parish for several years. He was middle-aged +and extremely good-looking, and possessed the education and manners of +a nobleman. He read more than any of his neighbours, hunted, was +sociable, and kept bees. Everybody spoke well of him, the nobility +because he was clever and fond of society, the Jews because he would +not allow them to be oppressed, the settlers because he entertained +their Pastors, the peasants because he renovated the church, conducted +the services with much pomp, preached beautiful sermons, and gave to +the poor. But in spite of this there was no intimate touch between him +and his simple parishioners. When they thought of him, they felt that +God was a great nobleman, benevolent and merciful, but not friends with +the first comer. The priest felt this and regretted it. No peasant had +ever invited him to a wedding or christening. At first he had tried to +break through their shyness, and had entered into conversations with +them; but these ended in embarrassment on both sides and he left it +off. 'I cannot act the democrat,' he thought irritably. + +Sometimes when he had been left to himself for several days owing to +bad roads, he had pricks of conscience. + +'I am a Pharisee,' he thought; 'I did not become a priest only to +associate with the nobility, but to serve the humble.' + +He would then lock himself in, pray for the apostolic spirit, vow to +give away his spaniel and empty his cellar of wine. + +But as a rule, just as the spirit of humility and renunciation was +beginning to be awakened, Satan would send him a visitor. + +'God have mercy! fate is against me,' he would mutter, get up from his +knees, give orders for the kitchen and cellar, and sing jolly songs and +drink like an Uhlan a quarter of an hour afterwards. + +To-night, at the time when Jonah was drawing near to the Parsonage, he +was getting ready for a party at a neighbouring landowner's to meet an +engineer from Warsaw who would have the latest news and be entertained +exceptionally well, for he was courting the landowner's daughter. The +priest was longing feverishly for the moment of departure, for lie had +been left to himself for several days. He could hardly bear the look of +his snow-covered courtyard any more, having no diversion except +watching a man chop wood, and hearing the cawing of rooks. He paced to +and fro, thinking that another quarter of an hour must have gone, and +was surprised to find it was only a few minutes since he had last +looked at his watch. He ordered the samovar and lit his pipe. Then +there was a knock at the door. Jonah came in, bowing to the ground. + +'I am glad to see you,' said the priest, 'there are several things in +my wardrobe that want mending.' + +'God be praised for that, I haven't had work for a week past. And your +honour's lady housekeeper tells me that the clock is broken as well.' + +'What? you mend clocks too?' + +'Why yes, I've even got the tools to do it with. I'm also an +umbrella-mender and harness-maker, and I can glaze stewing-pans.' + +'If that is so you might spend the winter here. When can you begin?' + +'I'll sit down now and work through the night.' + +'As you like. Ask them to give you some tea in the kitchen.' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon, may I ask that the sugar might be +served separately?' + +'Don't you like your tea sweet?' + +'On the contrary, I like it very sweet. But I save the sugar for my +grandchildren.' + +The priest laughed at the Jew's astuteness. 'All right! have your tea +with sugar and some for your grandchildren as well. Walenty!' he called +out, 'bring me my fur coat.' + +The Jew began bowing afresh. 'With an entreaty for your Reverence's +pardon, I come from Slimak's.' + +'The man whose house was burnt down?' + +'Not that he asked me to come, your Reverence, he would not presume to +do such a thing, but his wife is dead, they are both lying in the +stable, and I am sure he has a bad thought in his head, for no one does +so much as give him a cup of water.' The priest started. + +'No one has visited him?' + +'Begging your Reverence's pardon,' bowed the Jew, 'but they say in the +village, God's anger has fallen on him, so he must die without help.' +He looked into the priest's eyes as if Slimak's salvation depended on +him. His Reverence knocked his pipe on the floor till it broke. + +'Then I'll go into the kitchen,' said the Jew, and took up his bundle. +The sledge-bells tinkled at the door, the valet stood ready with the +fur coat. + +'I shall be wanted for the betrothal,' reflected the priest, 'that man +will last till to-morrow, and I can't bring the dead woman back to +life. It's eight o'clock, if I go to the man first there will be +nothing to go for afterwards. Give me my fur coat, Walenty.' He went +into his bedroom: 'Are the horses ready? Is it a bright night?' 'Quite +bright, your Reverence.' + +'I cannot be the slave of all the people who are burnt down and all the +women who die,' he agitatedly resumed his thoughts, 'it will be time +enough to-morrow, and anyhow the man can't be worth much if no one will +help him.'...His eyes fell on the crucifix. 'Divine wounds! Here I am +hesitating between my amusement and comforting the stricken, and I am a +priest and a citizen! + +Get a basket,' he said in a changed voice to the astonished servant, +'put the rest of the dinner into it. I had better take the sacrament +too,' he thought, after the surprised man had left the room, 'perhaps +he is dying. God is giving me another spell of grace instead of +condemning me eternally.' + +He struck his breast and forgot that God does not count the number of +amusements preferred and bottles emptied, but the greatness of the +struggle in each human heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Within half an hour the priest's round ponies stood at Slimak's gate. +The priest walked towards the stable with a lantern in one hand and a +basket in the other, pushed open the door with his foot, and saw +Slimakowa's body. Further away, on the litter, sat the peasant, shading +his eyes from the light. + +'Who is that?' he asked. + +'It is I, your priest.' + +Slimak sprang to his feet, with deep astonishment on his face. He +advanced with unsteady steps to the threshold, and gazed at the priest +with open mouth. + +'What have you come for, your Reverence?' + +'I have come to bring you the divine blessing. Put on your sheepskin, +it is cold here. Have something to eat.' He unpacked the basket. + +Slimak stared, touched the priest's sleeve, and suddenly fell sobbing +at his feet. + +'I am wretched, your Reverence...I am wretched...wretched!' + +'Benedicat te omnipotens Deus!' Instead of making the sign of the +cross, the priest put his arm round the peasant and drew him on to the +threshold. + +'Calm yourself, brother, all will be well. God does not forsake His +children.' + +He kissed him and wiped his tears. With almost a howl the peasant threw +himself at his feet. + +'Now I don't mind if I die, or if I go to hell for my sins! I've had +this consolation that your Reverence has taken pity on me. If I were to +go to the Holy City on my knees, it would not be enough to repay you +for your kindness.' + +He touched the ground at the priest's feet as though it were the altar. +The priest had to use much persuasion before he put on his sheepskin +and consented to touch food. + +'Take a good pull,' he said, pouring out the mead. + +'I dare not, your Reverence.' + +'Well, then I will drink to you.' He touched the glass with his lips. + +The peasant took the glass with trembling hands and drank kneeling, +swallowing with difficulty. + +'Don't you like it?' + +'Like it? vodka is nothing compared to this!' Slimak's voice sounded +natural again. 'Isn't it just full of spice!' he added, and revived +rapidly. + +'Now tell me all about it,' began the priest: 'I remember you as a +prosperous gospodarz.' + +'It would be a long story to tell your Reverence. One of my sons was +drowned, the other is in jail; my wife is dead, my horses were stolen, +my house burnt down. It all began with the squire's selling the +village, and with the railway and the Germans coming here. Then Josel +set everyone against me, because I had been selling fowls and other +things to the surveyors; even now he is doing his best to...' + +'But why does everyone go to Josel for advice?' interrupted the priest. + +'To whom is one to go, begging your Reverence's pardon? We peasants are +ignorant people. The Jews know about everything, and sometimes they +give good advice.' + +The priest winced. The peasant continued excitedly: + +'There were no wages coming in from the manor, and the Germans took the +two acres I had rented from the squire.' + +'But let me see,' said the priest, 'wasn't it you to whom the squire +offered those two acres at a great deal less than they were worth?' + +'Certainly it was me!' + +'Why didn't you take the offer? I suppose you did not trust him?' + +'How can one trust them when one does not know what they are talking +among themselves; they jabber like Jews, and when they talked to me +they were poking fun at me. Besides, there was some talk of free +distribution of land.' + +'And you believed that?' + +'Why should I not believe it? A man likes to believe what is to his +advantage. The Jews knew it wasn't true, but they won't tell.' + +'Why didn't you apply for work at the railway?' + +'I did, but the Germans kept me out.' + +'Why couldn't you have come to me? the chief engineer was living at my +house all the time,' said the priest, getting angry. + +'I beg your Reverence's pardon; I couldn't have known that, and I +shouldn't have dared to apply to your Reverence.' + +'Hm! And the Germans annoyed you?' + +'Oh dear, oh dear! haven't they been pestering me to sell them my land +all along, and when the fire came I gave way....' + +'And you sold them the land?' + +'God and my dead wife saved me from doing that. She got up from her +deathbed and laid a curse upon me if I should sell the land. I would +rather die than sell it, but all the same,' he hung his head, 'the +Germans will pay me out.' + +'I don't think they can do you much harm.' + +'If the Germans leave,' continued the peasant, 'I shall be up against +old Gryb, and he will do me as much harm as the Germans, or more.' + +'I am a good shepherd!' the priest reflected bitterly. 'My sheep are +fighting each other like wolves, go to the Jews for advice, are +persecuted by the Germans, and I am going to entertainments!' + +He got up. 'Stay here, my brother,' he said, 'I will go to the +village.' + +Slimak kissed his feet and accompanied him to the sledge. + +'Drive across to the village,' he directed his coachman. + +'To the village?' The coachman's face, which was so chubby that it +looked as if it had been stung by bees, was comic in its astonishment: + +'I thought we were going...' + +'Drive where I tell you!' + +Slimak leant on the fence, as in happier days. + +'How could he have known about me?' he reflected. 'Is a priest like God +who knows everything? They would not have brought him word from the +village. It must have been good old Jonah. But now they will not dare +to look askance at me, because his Reverence himself has come to see +me. If he could only take the sin of my sending Maciek and the child to +their death from me, I shouldn't be afraid of anything.' + +Presently the priest returned. + +'Are you there, Slimak?' he called out. 'Gryb will come to you +to-morrow. Make it up with him and don't quarrel any more. I have sent +to town for a coffin and am arranging for the funeral.' + +'Oh Redeemer!' sighed Slimak. + +'Now, Pawel! drive on as fast as the horses will go,' cried the priest. +He pulled out his repeater watch: it was a quarter to ten. + +'I shall be late,' he murmured, 'but not too late for everything; there +will be time for some fun yet.' + +As soon as the sledge had melted into the darkness, and silence again +brooded over his home, an irresistible desire for sleep seized Slimak. +He dragged himself to the stable, but he hesitated. He did not wish to +lie down once more by the side of his dead wife, and went into the +cowshed. Uneasy dreams pursued him; he dreamt that his dead wife was +trying to force herself into the cowshed. He got up and looked into the +stable. Slimakowa was lying there peacefully; two faint beams of light +were reflected from the eyes which had not yet been closed. + +A sledge stopped at the gate and Gryb came into the yard; his grey head +shook and his yellowish eyes moved uneasily. He was followed by his +man, who was carrying a large basket. + +'I am to blame,' he cried, striking his chest, 'are you still angry +with me?' + +'God give you all that you desire,' said Slimak, bowing low, 'you are +coming to me in my time of trouble.' + +This humility pleased the old peasant; he grasped Slimak's hand and +said in a more natural voice: 'I tell you, I am to blame, for his +Reverence told me to say that. Therefore I am the first to make it up +with you, although I am the elder. But I must say, neighbour, you did +annoy me very much. However, I will not reproach you.' + +'Forgive me the wrong I have done,' said Slimak, bending towards his +shoulder, 'but to tell you the truth, I cannot remember ever having +wronged you personally.' + +'I won't mince matters, Slimak. You dealt with those railway people +without consulting me.' + +'Look at what I have earned by my trading,' said Slimak, pointing to +his burnt homestead. + +'Well, God has punished you heavily, and that is why I say: I am to +blame. But when you came to church and your wife--God rest her +eternally--bought herself a silk kerchief, you ought to have treated me +to at least a pint of vodka, instead of speaking impertinently to me.' + +'It's true, I boasted too early.' + +'And then you made friends with the Germans and prayed with them.' + +'I only took off my cap. Their God is the same as ours.' + +Gryb shook his clenched fist in his face. + +'What! their God is the same as ours? I tell you, he must be a +different God, or why should they jabber to him in German? But never +mind,' he changed his tone, 'all that's past and gone. You deserve well +of us, because you did not let the Germans have your land. Hamer has +already offered me his farm for midsummer.' + +'Is that so?' + +'Of course it is so. The scoundrels threatened to drive us all away, +and they have smashed themselves against a small gospodarz of ten +acres. You deserve God's blessing and our friendship for that. God rest +your dead wife eternally! Many a time has she set you against me! I'll +bear her no grudge on that account, however. And here, you see, all of +us in the village are sending you some victuals.' + +Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Grochowski. + +'I wouldn't believe Jonah, when he came to tell me all this,' he said, +'and you here, Gryb, too? Where is the defunct?' + +They approached to the stable and knelt down in the snow. Only the +murmuring of their prayers and Slimak's sobs were audible for a while. +Then the men got up and praised the dead woman's virtues. + +'I am bringing you a bird,' then said Grochowski, turning to Gryb; 'he +is slightly wounded.' + +'What do you mean?' + +'It's your Jasiek. He attempted to steal my horses last night, and I +treated him to a little lead.' + +'Where is he?' + +'In the sledge outside.' + +Gryb ran off at a heavy trot. Blows and cries were heard, then the old +man reappeared, dragging his son by the hair. The strong young fellow +was crying like a child. He looked dishevelled and his clothes were +torn; a bloodstained cloth was tied round his hand. + +'Did you steal the Soltys' horses?' shouted his father. + +'How should I not have stolen them? I did steal them!' + +'Not quite,' said Grochowski, 'but he did steal Slimak's.' + +'What?' cried Gryb, and began to lay on to his son again. + +'I did, father. Leave off!' wailed Jasiek. + +'My God, how did this come about?' asked the old man. + +'That's simple enough,' sneered Grochowski, 'he found others as bad as +himself, and they robbed the whole neighbourhood, till I winged him.' + +'What do you propose to do now?' asked old Gryb between his blows. + +'I'll mend my ways.'...'I'll marry Orzchewski's daughter,' wailed +Jasiek. + +'Perhaps this is not quite the moment for that,' said Grochowski, +'first you will go to prison.' + +'You don't mean to charge him?' asked his father. + +'I should prefer not to charge him, but the whole neighbourhood is +indignant about the robberies. However, as he did not do me personally +any harm, I am not bound to charge him.' + +'What will you take?' + +'Not a kopek less than a hundred and fifty roubles.' + +'In that case, let him go to prison.' + +'A hundred and fifty to me, and eighty to Slimak for the horses.' + +Gryb took to his fists again. + +'Who put you up to this?' + +'Leave off!' cried Jasiek; 'it was Josel.' + +'And why did you do as he told you?' + +'Because I owe him a hundred roubles.' + +'Oh Lord!' groaned Gryb, tearing his hair. + +'Well, that's nothing to tear your hair about,' said Grochowski. 'Come; +three hundred and thirty roubles between Slimak, Josel, and me; what is +that to you?' + +'I won't pay it.' + +'All right! In that case he will go to prison. Come along.' He took the +youth by the arm. + +'Dad, have pity, I am your only son!' + +The old man looked helplessly at the peasants in turn. + +'Are you going to ruin my life for a paltry sum?' + +'Wait...wait,' cried Gryb, seeing that the Soltys was in earnest. He +took Slimak aside. + +'Neighbour, if there is to be peace between us,' he said, 'I'll tell +you what you will have to do.' + +'What?' + +'You'll have to marry my sister. You are a widower, she is a widow. You +have ten acres, she has fifteen. I shall take her land, because it is +close to mine, and give you fifteen acres of Hamer's land. You will +have a gospodarstwo of twenty-five acres all in one piece.' + +Slimak reflected for a while. + +'I think,' he said at last,' Gawdrina's land is better than Hamer's.' + +'All right! You shall have a bit more.' + +Slimak scratched his head. 'Well, I don't know,' he said. + +'It's agreed, then,' said Gryb, 'and now I'll tell you what you will +have to do in return. You will pay a hundred and fifty roubles to +Grochowski and a hundred to Josel.' + +Slimak demurred. + +'I haven't buried my wife yet.' + +The old man's temper was rising. + +'Rubbish! don't be a fool! How can a gospodarz get along without a +wife? Yours is dead and gone, and if she could speak, she would say: + +"Marry, Josef, and don't turn up your nose at a benefactor like Gryb."' + +'What are you quarrelling about?' cried Grochowski. + +'Look here, I am offering him my sister and fifteen acres of land, four +cows and a pair of horses, to say nothing of the household property, +and he can't make up his mind,' said Gryb, with awry face. + +'Why, that's certainly worth while,' said Grochowski, 'and not a bad +wife!' + +'Aye, a good, hefty woman,' cried Gryb. + +'You'll be quite a gentleman, Slimak,' added Grochowski. + +Slimak sighed. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'that Jagna did not live to see +this.' + +The agreement was carried out, and before Holy Week both Slimak and +Gryb's son were married. By the autumn Slimak's new gospodarstwo was +finished, and an addition to his family expected. His second wife not +unfrequently reminded him that he had been a beggar and owed all his +good fortune to her. At such times he would slip out of the house, lie +under the lonely pine and meditate, recalling the strange struggle, +when the Germans had lost their land and he his nearest and dearest. + +When everybody else had forgotten Slimakowa, Stasiek, Maciek, and the +child, he often remembered them, and also the dog Burek and the cow +doomed to the butcher's knife for want of fodder. + +Silly Zoska died in prison, old Sobieska at the inn. The others with +whom my story is concerned, not excepting old Jonah, are alive and +well. + + + + + + + + +A PINCH OF SALT + +BY + +ADAM SZYMÁNSKI + + +It was in the fourth year of my exile to the metropolis of the Siberian +frosts, a few days before Christmas, when one of our comrades and +fellow-sufferers, a former student at the university of Kiev, who +hailed from Little-Russia, called in to give us some interesting news. +One of his intimate friends--also an ex-student and fellow- +sufferer--was to pass through our town on his way back from a +far-distant Yakut aúl,[1] where he had lived for three years; +he was due to arrive on Christmas Eve. + +[Footnote 1: _Aúl: a hamlet_.] + +We had repeatedly met people who knew the life in the nearer Yakut +settlements; now and then we had seen temporary or permanent +inhabitants of the so-called Yakut 'towns' of Vjerchojansk, Vihijsk, +and Kalymsk. But the nearer aúls and towns were populous centres of +human life in comparison to those far-off deserted and desolate places; +they gave one no conception of what the latter might be like. Certainly +the fact that the worst criminals, when they were sent to those +regions, preferred to return to hard labour rather than live in liberty +there, gave us an illustration of the charms of that life, yet it told +us nothing definite. + +Bad--we were told--very bad it was out there, but in what way bad it +was impossible to judge, even from the knowledge we had of life in less +remote regions. Who would venture to draw conclusions from the little +we knew as to the thousand small details which made up that grey, +monotonous existence? Who could clearly bring them before the +imagination? Only experience could reveal them in their appalling +nakedness. Of one thing we were certain, that was that in a measure as +the populousness decreases, and you move away in a centrifugal +direction from where we were, life becomes harder and more and more +distressing for human beings. In the south, on the wild high plateaus +of the Aldon; in the east, on the mountain slopes of the +Stanovoi-Chebret, where a single Tungus family constitutes the sole +population along a river of 300 versts; in the west on the desolate +heights of the Viluj, near the great Zeresej Lake; in the north at the +mysterious outlets of the Quabrera, the desert places of the Olensk, +Indigirika, and Kolyma, life becomes like a Danteësque hell, consisting +in nothing but ice, snow and gales, and lighted up by the lurid +blood-red rays of the northern light. + +But no! those deserts, equal in extent to the half of Europe, are only +the purgatory, not yet the real Siberian hell. You still find woods +there, poor, thin, dwarfed woods, it is true, but where there is wood +there is fire and vitality. The true hell of human torture begins +beyond the line of the woods; then there is nothing but ice and snow; +ice that does not even melt in the plains in summer--and in the midst +of that icy desert, miserable human beings thrown upon this shore by an +alien fate. + + + +I shall never forget the impression which any chance bit of information +on the characteristic features, the horrible details of that life, used +to make upon me. Even clearly defined facts and exact technical terms +bear quite a different aspect in the light of such unusual local +conditions. + +I have a vivid remembrance of a story told me by a former official; he +described to me how when he was stationed in V. as Ispravnik, 'a +certain gentleman' was sent out to him with orders to take him to the +settlement in Zaszyversk.[1] + +[Footnote 1: Pronounce: Zashiversk.] + +'You see, little brother,' said the ex-Ispravnik, 'the town of +Zaszyversk does exist. Even on a small map of Siberia you can easily +find it to the right of a large blank space; if you remember your +geography lessons you will even know that it is designated as "town out +of governmental bounds". An appointment to such a place means for an +official that he is expected to send in his resignation; as for the +towns, it means that they have been degraded by having ceased to be the +seat of certain local government. In this case there was a yet deeper +significance in the description, for the town of Zaszyversk does, as I +said, exist, but only in the imagination of cartographers and in +geography manuals, not in reality. So much so is it non-existent that +not a single house, not a yurta,[1] not a hovel marks the place which +is pointed out to you on the map. When I read the order I could not +believe my eyes, and though I was sober I reeled. I called another +official and showed him the curious document. + +[Footnote 1: Yurta: hut of the native Yakut.] + +'He was an old, experienced hand at the office, but when he saw this +order, the paper dropped from his hands. "Where to?" I asked. "To +Zaszyversk!" We looked at each other. Nice things that young man must +have been up to! There he stood, looked and listened and understood +nothing. + +'He was a handsome fellow but gloomy and stuck up. I asked him one +thing after another, was he in need of anything? and so on, but he +answered nothing but "Yes" or "No". Well, my little brother, I thought +to myself, you will soon sing a different tune! I ordered three troikas +to be brought round; he was put into the first with the Cossack who +escorted him, I was in the second with an old Cossack, who remembered +where this town of Zaszyversk had once stood, and the third contained +provisions; then we started. First we drove straight on for twenty-four +hours; during this time we still stopped at stations where we changed +horses, and we covered 200 versts. The second and third days we covered +150 versts, but we did not meet a living soul, and we spent the nights +in the large barnlike buildings without windows or chimneys and with +only a fireplace, which are found on the road; they are called +"povarnia". + +'Our prisoner was obviously beginning to feel rather bad, so he +addressed me from time to time; at last he tried to get information out +of me concerning the life in Zaszyversk. "How many inhabitants were +there? what was the town like? was there any chance of his finding +something to do there, perhaps private lessons?" But now it was my turn +to answer him: "Yes" or "No". On the fourth day. towards morning, we +entered upon a glacier. We had arrived in the region where the ice does +not disappear even in summer. When we had advanced ten versts on the +ice, the old Cossack showed me the place where sixty years ago a few +yurtas had stood which were called in geographical terms "Zaszyversk, +town out of governmental bounds". + +"Stop," I cried, "let the young gentleman get out; here we are! This is +the town of Zaszyversk...." + +'The man did not understand at once, he opened his eyes wide and +thought it was a joke, or that I had lost my reason. I had to explain +the situation to him.... At last he understood.' + +The ex-Ispravnik laughed dryly. 'Will you believe me or not?' he +continued. 'Look here, I swear by the cross'--he crossed himself +spaciously, bowing to the images of the saints--that fellow's eyes +became glassy... his jaws chattered as in a fever. It was a business! + +'And I, a tough old official, I put my hands to my forehead. You should +have seen how the gentleman's pride disappeared in a moment; he became +soft as wax and so humble... pliable as silk he was! + +'"I adjure you by the wounds of Christ," he cried, stretching out his +hands to me, "let the love of God come into your heart! I have not been +condemned to death, there is nothing very serious against me, I have +been too overbearing, that is all." + +'"Oh," I said, "well, you see, pride is a great sin." + +'And whether you will believe me or won't'--he crossed himself again--' +the man wept like a child when I told him I would take him to the +nearest Yakut yurta, at a distance of thirty versts from the town of +Zaszyversk, and I swear to you for the third time it was with joy that +he wept... although he was not much better off in that yurta....' + + + +It is easy to imagine how eagerly we received the news of the arrival +of a man who had actually been living somewhere at the end of the world +under conditions which had completely isolated him for three whole +years; yet it was said that he was returning into this world sound in +body and mind. We inhabitants of our own special town were not living +in the most enviable of circumstances either, but we all knew that they +were infinitely happier than they might have been. + +A passionate desire seized us to look upon that life out there in its +unveiled nakedness, its horrible cruelty. This curiosity meant more +than narrow selfishness; it had a special reason. + +The fact that a human being had been able to survive in that +far-distant world, bore witness to the strength and resistance of the +human spirit; the iron will and energy of the one doubled and steeled +the strength of all the others. + +What we had heard so far of those who were battling with their fate at +the end of the world had not been too comforting. Therefore the +question whether and how one could live and suffer there, was a vital +one for us. + +And now the news came unexpectedly that one of our own class, a man +closely allied to us by his intellectual development and a number of +ways and customs, had actually lived for three years in a yurta not +much better situated than the one behind the imaginary town of +Zaszyversk. This unknown youth, student of a university not our own, +became dear to us. We all--Russians, Poles, and Jews--bound together by +our common fate, made up our minds to celebrate his arrival, and as it +was timed for Christmas Eve, we were going to prepare a solemn feast in +his honour. + +As I was the one who had the greatest experience in culinary affairs, I +was charged with the arrangement of the dinner, supported by a young +student, and by the intense interest of the whole colony. I am sure +that neither I nor my dear scullion have ever in our lives before or +after worked as hard for two days in the kitchen as we did then. + +The student was not only a great collector of everything useful for our +daily life, he was also deeply versed in the knowledge of the Yakut in +general. While we were cooking and roasting we told one another the +most interesting things, and thus stimulated each other to such a +degree that the dinner, originally planned on simple lines, began to +assume Lucullian dimensions. + +We knew only too well how miserable the life in the nearest Yakut +yurtas was, that there was a want of the most necessary European food, +such as would be found in the poorest peasant's home; above all, the +want of bread--simple daily bread--was very pronounced among the poorer +populations. It was not surprising that we two, possessed by gloomy +pictures which we recalled to our memory, fell into a sort of +cooking-fever. Like a mother who remembers the favourite dishes of the +child she has not seen for a long time, and whom she expects home on a +certain day, we kept on racking our brains for, agreeable surprises for +our guest. One or the other would constantly ask: + +'What do you think, comrade, wouldn't he like this or that?' + +'Well, of course, he would thoroughly enjoy that. Just think, counting +the journeys, it must be a good five years since he has eaten food fit +for human beings.' + +'Shall we add that?' + +'All right!' + +And one of us ran to the market-place to fetch the necessary +ingredients from the shops, another secured kitchen utensils, and soon +another course enriched the menu. At last the supply of kitchen +utensils gave out, and want of time as well as physical exhaustion put +a stop to further exertions. Our enthusiasm had communicated itself to +all the participants of the feast, for they were all of a responsive +disposition, and declared themselves charmed with our inventiveness and +energy. I and my scullion were proud of our work. A huge fish, weighing +twenty pounds, which after much trouble we had succeeded in boiling +whole, was considered the crowning success of our labour and art. We +rightly anticipated that this magnificent fish, prepared with an +appallingly highly seasoned and salted sauce, would move the hardest +hearts. Also, we did not forget a small Christmas tree, and decorated +it as best we could in honour of our guest. + + + +At last the longed-for day came. The student started at dawn for the +nearest posting station to await the newcomer and bring him to us. +Before two o'clock, when it began to be dark, we were all assembled, +and soon after two the melancholy sound of the sleighbells announced +the arrival of the students. We hurriedly pulled on our furs and went +out. The sleigh and the travellers were entirely covered with snow, +long icicles hung from the horses' nostrils when they whipped into the +courtyard, they were covered with a fine crust of ice. Another moment +and they stood still in front of the door. Every man bared his +head...there were some who had grown grey in misery and sorrow. + + + +I will not describe our first greeting--I could not do so even if I +would. We did not know each other, and yet how near we felt! I doubt +whether it will ever fall to my share again to be one of a number of +human beings so different in birth and station in life, yet so nearly +related, so closely tied to each other as we were on the day when we +greeted our guest. + +He was small and thin--very thin. His complexion showed yellow and +black, much more than ours did; he seemed marked for life by an earthen +colour; his deeply sunk eyes were the only feature which was burning +with vitality, they had a phosphorescent glow. + +It had grown quite dark by the time he had changed his clothes and +warmed himself, and we were sitting down to our dinner. Noise and +vivacity predominated in our small abode; a cheerful mood rose like an +overflowing wave, washing away all signs of sorrow and bitterness. + +'Let us be cheerful!' + +Louder and louder this cry arose, now here, now there, and when our +guest took it up even the gloomiest faces brightened. We broke the +sacred wafer, then we emptied the first glasses. My industrious +scullion had been deeply moved by a folk-song from the Ukraine, one of +those songs rich in poetical feeling and simple metaphor which go +straight to the heart; he therefore got up to make the welcoming +speech, and, encouraged by the tears of joy which rose in the eyes of +our guest, he quite took possession of him. He told him that he and I +had worked uninterruptedly for two days and nights in the sweat of our +brows, so as to give him a noble repast after his many days of +privation and hunger; he forecast the whole menu, beginning with his +favourite Kutja, he drew close to him and put his arm round his neck, +laughing gaily, and seemingly inspiring him so that he wept tears of +joy. + +Our animated mood rose higher and higher. A storm of applause greeted +the first course. The student filled the guest's plate to the brim. At +last the harmonious rattle of the spoons replaced the laughing and +talking. 'Excellent,' was the universal verdict. + +My scullion was in raptures and loudly assented; finally he too became +silent and applied himself like us to his plate. + +But what in the name of God did this mean? We were all eating, only our +guest fumbled about with his spoon and stirred his soup without eating, +laughing the while with a suppressed, hardly audible laugh. + +'My God, what is it? why don't you eat, comrade?' several voices called +in unison. 'The scullion has been exciting him too much! Off with him! +Our guest must have serious people next to him.' The student obediently +changed places, and we turned to our food again. But still our guest +did not eat. + +What was the matter? We stopped eating and all eyes were turned +questioningly upon him. Our silent anxiety was sufficiently eloquent. +He perceived, felt it and said: + +'I... forgive me... I... my happiness... I am so sorry... I do not want +to trouble you, and I fear I shall spoil your pleasure. I beg you... I +entreat you, dear brothers, take no notice of me...it is nothing, it +will pass,' and he broke into a strange sobbing laugh. + +'Jesus, Mary!' we all cried, for we had not noticed before how +unnatural his laugh was; there was no further thought of eating; and +he, when he saw the general anxiety, mastered himself with an effort +and said rapidly amidst the general silence: + +'I thought you knew what the life was like that I have lived for three +years, but I see you don't know it; when I realized this I tried... +I... well, I tried while you were eating and drinking to swallow a +small piece of bread... just a tiny piece of bread... but I cannot do +it... I cannot! You see, for three years... three whole years I have +tasted no salt... I ate all my food without salt, and this bread is +rather salt--very salt in fact, it is burning and scorching me, and +probably all the other things are also very salt.' 'Certainly, some +were even salted too much in our haste and eagerness,' I answered +simultaneously with the student. + +'Well then, eat, beloved brothers, eat, but I cannot eat anything; I +shall watch you with great pleasure--eat, I beg you fervently!' and +with hysterical laughter and tears he sank back into his seat. + +Now we understood this laugh which was like a spasm.... + +Not one of us was able to swallow the food which he had in his mouth. + +The misery of the existence of which we had longed to know something +had lifted the veil off a small portion of its mysteries. + +We all dropped our spoons and hung our heads. + +How vain, how small appeared to us now the trouble we had taken about +the food, how clumsy our childish enjoyment! + +And while we looked at the ravaged face of our brother, convulsed with +spasmodic laughter and tears, a feeling of horror seized upon us.... + +We felt as if the spectre of death had risen from a lonely yurta +somewhere behind the lost town of Zaszyversk and was staring at us with +cold glassy eyes.... + +A dead silence brooded over the frightened assembly. + + + + +KOWALSKI THE CARPENTER + +A SIBERIAN SKETCH + +BY + +ADAM SZYMINSKI + + +I made his acquaintance accidentally; the chance which led to it was +caused by the peculiar conditions of the Yakut spring. My readers will +probably only have a very imperfect knowledge of the Yakut spring. + +From the middle of April onwards the sun begins to be pretty powerful +in Yakutsk; in May it hardly leaves the horizon for a few hours and is +roasting hot; but as long as the great Lena has not thrown off the +shackles of winter, and as long as the huge masses of unmelted snow are +lying in the taiga,[1] you can see no trace of spring. The snow is not +warmed by the earth, which has been frozen hard to the depth of several +feet, and this thick crust of ice opposes determined resistance to the +lifegiving rays, and only after long, patient labour does the sun +succeed in awakening to new life the secret depths of the taiga and the +queen of Yakut waters, 'Granny Lena', as the Yakut calls the great +river. + +[Footnote 1: Primaeval forest.] + +In the last days of the month of May, when this battle of vitalizing +warmth against the last remnants of the cruel winter is nearing its +end, the newly arrived European witnesses a scene which is without +parallel anywhere in the west. Every sound resembling a report, however +distant and indistinct, has a wonderful effect upon the people out in +the open; children and the aged, men and women are suddenly rooted to +the spot, turn to the east towards the river, crane their necks and +seem to be listening for something. + +If the peculiar sounds cease or turn out to be caused accidentally, +everybody quietly goes home. But if the reports continue, and swell to +such dimensions that the air seems filled with a noise like the firing +of great guns or the rolling of thunder, accompanied by subterranean +rushing like the coming of a great gale, then these silent people +become unusually animated. Joyful shouts of 'The ice is cracking! the +river is breaking! do you hear?' are heard from all sides; eagerly and +noisily the people run in all directions to carry the news into the +farthest cottages. Everybody knocks at the doors he passes, be they his +friends' or a stranger's; and calls out the magic word 'The Lena is +breaking!' These words spread like wildfire in many tongues through +far-off houses, yurtas and Yakut settlements, and whoever is able to +move puts on his furs and runs to the banks of the Lena. + +A dense crowd is thronging the banks, watching in fascination one of +the most beautiful natural phenomena in Siberia. + +Gigantic blocks of ice, driven down by the powerful waves of the broad +river, are packed to the height of houses--of mountains; they break, +they crash; covered with myriads of small needles of ice, they seem to +be floating in the sun, displaying a marvellous wealth of colour. + +But one must have lived here for at least one winter to understand what +it is that drives this crowd of human beings to the river banks. It is +not the magnificent display of nature that attracts them. + +In the long struggle against winter these people have exhausted all +their strength; for many months' they have been awaiting the vivifying +warmth with longing and impatience, now they hasten hither to witness +the triumph of the sun over the cruel enemy. + +An intense, almost childlike joy is depicted on the yellow faces of the +Yakuts, their broad lips smile good-naturedly and appear broader still, +their little black eyes glow like coals. The whole crowd is swaying as +if intoxicated. 'God be praised! God be praised!' they call to each +other, turn towards the huge icebergs which are now being destroyed by +the friendly element, and shout and rejoice over the defeat of the +merciless enemy, driven, crushed and annihilated by the inexorable +waves. + +When the ice-drifts on the Lena have come to an end, the earth quickly +thaws, although only to a depth of two feet. But nature makes the most +of the three months of warmth. Within a comparatively short time +everything develops and unfolds. + +The great plain of Yakutsk offers a charming spectacle; it is fertile, +and here and there cultivation already begins to show. Birchwoods, +small lakes, brushwood and verdant fields alternate and make the whole +country look like a large park, framed by the silver ribbon of the +Lena. The surrounding gloom of the taiga emphasizes the natural beauty +of the valley. This smiling plain in the midst of the wide expanse +reminds one of an oasis in the desert. + +The Yakut is by far the most capable of the Siberian tribes; he values +the gifts of the life-giving sun and enjoys them to the full. When he +escapes from his narrow, stinking winter-yurta he fills his hitherto +inhospitable country with life and movement; his energy is doubled, his +vitality pulsates with greater strength and intensity. When the +'Ysech', the feast of spring, is over, the animated mood of the +population does not abate in the least. The 'strengthening kumis', the +ambrosia of the Yakut gods, does not run dry in the wooden vessels, for +luxuriant grass covers the ground, and cows and mares give abundant +milk. + +The sight of the lovely plain and the joyful human beings delighting in +the summer had revived me also. This was my first summer in Yakutsk, +and I responded to it with my whole being. Daily I went for walks to +look at the beauty of the surrounding world, daily I took my sun bath. + + + +My walks usually led me to one of the Yakut yurtas; they are at long +distances from each other, lonely and scattered over the whole country. +You find them in whatever direction you may choose. + +Cold milk and kumis can be had in all these yurtas. It is true both +have the nasty smell which the stranger in this part of the world calls +'Yakut odour'; but during the long winter when milk other than from +Yakut yurtas was hard to procure, I had got used to this specific +smell, so that now it only produced a mild nausea. + +One of the many yurtas had taken my fancy, for it was charmingly +situated close to the woods in a corner of the raised banks of a long +stretch of lake. It belonged to an aged Yakut, well deserving of the +honourable designation 'ohonior', given to all the Yakut elders. + +The old man was living there with his equally aged wife and a young +fellow, a distant relation of his. Two cows and a calf, a few mares and +a foal constituted all their wealth. + +All the Yakuts are very inquisitive and loquacious. But my friend, the +honourable 'ohonior ', possessed these qualities in an unusually high +degree, and as he was able to speak broken Russian, I often took +occasion to call in for a little talk. + +First of all he wished to know who I was, where I came from and what +was my business here. Towards the Russians, whether strangers or +natives of Siberia, the Yakuts are always on their guard and +excessively obsequious. Every Russian, however poorly dressed, is +always the 'tojan', the master. Their behaviour towards the Poles, on +the other hand, is very friendly. No Yakut ever took the information +that I was not a Russian but a 'Bilak'--Polak--with indifference. + +'Bilak? Bilak? Excellent brother!' exclaimed even the most reticent +among them. The 'ohonior' and I therefore soon became friends, and when +he learned that in addition I was versed in the art of writing and +might be employed as secretary to the community and draw up petitions +to the 'great master'--the 'gubernator'--my value was immensely +increased, and this respect saved me from too great an intimacy. Owing +to this consideration I was always offered the best milk and kumis, and +when the old woman handed me a jug she carefully wiped it with her +fingers first, or removed every trace of dirt with her tongue. + +One day when I called in passing to drink my kumis, I found the +'ohonior' unusually excited; he was not only talkative, but also in +very great spirits. His tongue was a little heavy, although he showed +no sign of old age. It turned out that my honourable host had just +returned from the town, where he had indulged in vodka to warm his +feeble frame. + +'The Bilaks are good, are all good,' he stammered, while he crammed his +little pipe with tobacco, 'every Bilak is a clerk, or at least a +doctor, or even a smith, as good as a Yakut one. You are a good man +too, and you must be a good clerk; we all love the Bilaks, a Sacha[1] +never forgets that the Bilak is his brother. But will you believe it, +brother, it is not long since this is so? I myself was afraid of the +Bilaks as of evil spirits until about fifteen years ago, and yet I am +so old that the calves have grazed off the meadows seventy times before +my eyes. When I saw a Bilak, I would run like a hare wherever my feet +would carry me--into the wood or into the bushes, never mind where, so +long as I could escape from him. And not only I but everybody dreaded +the Bilaks, for, you see, people told each other dreadful things about +them, that they had horns and slew everybody, and so on.' + +[Footnote 1: The name by which the Yakuts call themselves.] + +I ascertained that these fairy-tales had had their origin in the town, +and reproached the old man for his credulity, but he bridled up at +once. + +'Goodness gracious! do you think we believed all that on hearsay? I +don't know about other people, but I and all my neighbours believed it +because our forefathers knew for certain that every Bilak was terrible +and dangerous.' + +The old man refreshed himself from the jug and continued: + +'Do you see, it was like this. My father was not yet born, my +grandfather was a little fellow for whom they were still collecting the +"Kalym"[1] when there came to this neighbourhood a Bilak with eyes of +ice,[2] a long beard and long moustaches; he settled here, not in the +valley but up on yonder mountainside in the taiga. That was not taiga, +as you see it now, but thick and wild, untouched by any axe. There the +Bilak found an empty yurta and settled in it.' + +[Footnote 1: The price for the future wife which is paid in cattle and +horses; it is collected early in the boy's life.] + +[Footnote 2: The black-eyed Yakuts speak thus of the blue-eyed races.] + +'But he had no sooner gone to live there than the taiga became +impassable at a distance of ten versts round the cottage. The Bilak ran +about with his gun in his hand, and when he caught sight of anyone he +covered him with his gun, and unless the man ran away he would pop at +him--but not for fun, he didn't mind whom he shot, even if it were a +Cossack. What he lived on? The gods of the taiga know! Nobody else did. +Every living thing shunned him like the plague. Those who caught sight +of him in the forest when he ran about like a devil said that at first +he wore clothes such as the Russian gentlemen wear who know how to +write, but later on he was dressed in skins which he must have tanned +himself. People said he got to look more and more terrible and wild. +His beard grew down to his waist, his face got paler and paler and his +eyes burnt like flames. Some years passed. Then one winter, at the time +of the worst frosts, when a murderous "chijus" broke,[1] he was not +seen for several days. As a rule he had been observed from a distance, +so the people gave notice in the town that someone should come and +ascertain what had happened to him. + +[Footnote 1: A column of frozen air, moving southwards. After a chijus, +corpses of frozen people are generally found.] + +'They came and closed in upon the cottage carefully. There was the +Bilak on the bed in his furs, all covered with snow, and in his hand he +held a cross. The Bilak was dead; perhaps hunger had killed him, +perhaps the frost, or maybe the devil had taken him. Now tell me, was +there no reason for us to be afraid of the Bilaks? Here was only a +single one who drove all the neighbourhood to flight, and now all of a +sudden a great many of you arrived? He! he! he! You know how to write, +brother, but you are yet very young! So you thought people had no good +reasons for their fears? Well, you see, you were mistaken. A Sacha is +cleverer than he looks!' + + + +This legend of a Pole who could not bear to look upon human beings--a +legend I repeatedly heard again later--made a deep impression upon me. +These woods, these fields where I was walking now had perhaps been +haunted by the unfortunate man, driven mad and wild with excess of +sorrow. + +Had his troubles been beyond endurance or had he been unable to bear +the sight of human wickedness and human misery? Or was it the +separation from his home, from those dear to him, that had broken him? + +Dominated altogether by these thoughts, I returned to the town without +paying heed to anything around me. I was walking fast, almost at a run, +when a long-drawn call coming from somewhere close by struck upon my +ear: + +'Kallarra! Kallarra!' + +At first I neither understood the call nor whence it came, but on +frequent repetition it dawned upon me that it proceeded from the bushes +at a little distance in front of me, and that it was meant to be the +Yakut call 'Come here, come here, brother!' I even divined, as I came +nearer, what manner of man it was that was calling. No Yakut, no +Russian, be he a native or a settler, could have mispronounced this +Yakut word so badly; it should have been 'Kelere!' + +Only my countrymen, the Masurs, could do such violence to the +beautiful, sonorous Yakut language. During my long sojourn in Yakutsk I +have never met a Masurian peasant who pronounced this word otherwise +than 'Kallarra'. + +Indeed, there he was, behind the bushes beyond a bridge spanning the +marsh or dried-up arm of the Lena--a man in the ordinary clothes of +deported criminals; he agitated his arms violently, and continually +repeated his call 'Kallarra'! + +This was addressed to a Yakut who became visible on the outskirts of +the brushwood, but it was in vain, for the wary Yakut had no intention +of drawing nearer. The caller must have realized this, for when he +arrived at the bridge he called once more 'Kalarč! you dog!' Then he +ceased and only swore to himself: 'May you burst, may you swell, you +son of a dog!' + +When he noticed me, he stood still. I came up to him and greeted him in +Polish, 'Praised be Jesus Christ!' + +The peasant could not get over his amazement. + +'Oh Jesus! where do you come from, sir?' he cried. + +We soon made friends. He lived somewhere in an uluse,[1] and had gone +into the town to hire himself out for work in the gold mines; he had +secured work and was to start at once, driving a herd of cattle to his +new abode. He was grazing them when I met him, and as some of them had +gone astray, and he was unable to drive them all across the bridge +singlehanded, he was waiting for someone to come along and help him. I +gladly lent him a hand, and when the herd had been got across the +bridge and was quietly going along, we began to talk. I asked him with +whom he was lodging. + +[Footnote 1: A settlement consisting of several yurtas.] + +'With Kowalski,' he said. + +I knew all the Poles in Yakutsk, but I had never heard of Kowalski. + +'Well, I mean Kowalski the carpenter.' + +Still I did not know whom he meant. + +'Who are his friends? whom does he go to see?' I inquired. + +'He is peculiar. They all know him, but he does not go to see them.' + +'How do you mean: he does not go to see them?' + +'How should he go to see them? He has got clump feet, he has lost his +toes with frostbite. When the wounds are closed he can just manage, but +when they are open he cannot even move about in his room.' + +'How does he manage to live?' + +'He does a little carpentering; he has a beautiful workshop and all +sorts of tools, but I tell you when he can't stand on his feet he can't +do carpentering. Then he is glad when people come and give him orders +for brushes--he can make beautiful brushes as well--for sweeping rooms +or for brushing clothes. But the rooms here are not swept much, and +people rarely brush their clothes either. Now he is ill again.' + +'Where does he come from? How long has he been here?' + +'He has been here a long time, there were only a few like us when he +came. But where he comes from, who he is--I see you don't know +Kowalski, or else you wouldn't ask. For you see, when I ask him, or one +of the gentlemen, or even the priest, who comes from Irkutsk, he only +answers: "Brother, God knows very well who I am and where I come from, +but it serves no purpose and is quite unnecessary that you should know +it too!" There you are! That's like him. So nobody asks him.' + +I inquired very particularly all the same where Kowalski lived. In my +imagination the 'Bilak' of the legend who fled from men and this lonely +carpenter were blended into one personality, I could not say why. I +felt that there must be a mysterious connexion as between all things +repeating themselves in the circle of time. Perhaps the great sorrow +which--I imagined--had died at the death of the Bilak was still living +on quite close to me, in a different shape, but just as great, no less +unbearable and fateful to him in whom it now dwelt. + + + +Since that day I had often guided my steps in the direction of +Kowalski's yurta. No fresh shavings were added to the old ones lying +about near the door and the little windows. They grew drier and blacker +every day; perhaps the man who had thrown them there.... I had not the +courage to enter. I kept on waiting for another day when perhaps fresh +shavings would be added, but none appeared and no noises of work were +audible. + +At last I made up my mind not to put it off any longer. I left my home +with this decision and had already reached a corner of his yurta, when +I heard a trembling, weak but pleasant voice singing. + +I sat down on the bench in front of the yurta, and I could distinctly +hear every word of a sentimental, gently melancholy little ditty which +had once been very popular in Poland: + + 'When the fields are fresh and green. + And the spring revives the world.' + +But after the third verse the singing suddenly ceased and a voice +called out gloomily: + +'Doggy, go and bark at the Almighty!' + +At first I did not know what this peculiar command meant, but after a +short pause I heard the thin bark of a dog, and as the gate of the +enclosure was open I drew nearer and saw in the wide open door of the +yurta a small black dog, tiny and light, repeatedly raising itself on +its hindlegs and barking up at the blue sky while it jumped and turned +about. + +Of course I went away and put off my visit to a more suitable occasion. + + + +At last I saw him. He was of middle stature, quite greyheaded, and he +looked very neglected. The ashen complexion common to all exiles +distinguished him in a high degree, so that it gave me pain to look +into his face with the black shadows. + +If he had not been talking, and moving about, it would have been hard +to guess that one was looking at a living being. And yet, glances like +lightning would sometimes dart from the large eyes surrounded by broad, +dark circles, and they showed that death had not yet numbed the inner +life of this moving corpse, but that he was still capable of emotion. + +As long as he was sitting I could bear the sight of his suffering face, +but when he got up I had to turn away my eyes, for then his clump-feet +seemed to cause him the greatest agony. + +He spoke Polish correctly and with a pure accent. He carefully avoided +any direct or indirect allusion to his past, and shrank equally from +information about his native country. He talked exclusively about the +present, principally about his dog, with whom he held long +conversations. Only once in the course of the few weeks during which I +visited him did he get animated: that was when I mentioned Plotsk; his +eyes shone as with a hidden fire while he asked: 'Do you know that +part?' + +I answered that I had lived there for a year, and he said, half to +himself: + +'I suppose it is all quite changed, so many years have passed. You +probably were not born at the time when I came to Siberia. In what part +of the province did you stay?' + +'Not far from Raciaz.' + +He opened his mouth, but he felt he had said too much, or that I was +listening with curiosity; enough--he only uttered a long-drawn 'Oh...' +and was silent again. + +This was the only allusion Kowalski ever made to his past. I felt +inclined to draw him out, but he knew how to parry these attempts in a +delicate way by calling his dog and saying to him while he caressed +him: 'Go, bark at the Almighty!' And the obedient creature would +continue for a long time to bark at the sky. + +As soon as Kowalski gave this order, it was a sure sign that he would +not open his mouth except for conversation about his dog, of which he +never tired. + +Although this dog was quite ordinary, he was in several ways +distinguished from his Yakut brothers. For one thing he had no name and +was simply addressed as 'Doggy', though he was his master's pet and was +attached to the house and enclosure. + +'Why didn't you give your dog a name?' I asked casually. + +'What's the good of a name? If people had not invented so many names +and called each other simply "Man", they would perhaps remember better +that we are all men together.' + +So the dog remained nameless. He was of a graceful and delicate build +and fast, quite unlike the heavier, thickset, thick-coated native dogs; +his hair was short, soft, and silky. His appearance had condemned him +to an isolated and lonely life. Attempts at participation in the canine +social life had failed deplorably; he had returned from these +expeditions lame and bleeding all over, and after some vain repetitions +he had given up the hope of satisfying his social instincts and did not +leave the enclosure any more. He was surprisingly sedate for his +delicate organism and thin, mobile little frame, but this was not the +calm sedateness of the strong, shaggy Yakut dogs, against whom he +obviously harboured a certain hatred and bitterness, because these big, +powerful creatures would not recognize the rights of the weak. Except +for his master, he showed no affection for anyone and accepted no +favours--perhaps he had no belief in them, and only responded to a +caress with a low growl. + + + +Some weeks passed and Kowalski was no better, on the contrary he seemed +to get worse with every day, and we were all convinced that this +illness was his last. God knows whether he was equally convinced, but +he certainly had a foreboding of his death, for he hardly ever talked +now. For a few days longer he obstinately struggled against the +weakness which was overpowering him, and walked about his yurta, even +tinkered at some brushes which he had begun; at last he gave it up and +took to his bed. One morning, when I had just sat down to my breakfast, +the locksmith Wladyslaw Piotrowski, Kowalski's nearest friend, came to +my window and asked me to accompany him to our patient. + +'It might ease his last hour when he sees that he is not quite +forsaken,' said the kind man. 'Perhaps you would like to take a book +with you,' he added. I took the New Testament and went with him. + +'Is he so very bad?' I asked on the way. + +'I should think so; he looks quite black and says himself that he is +sure he will die to-day.' + +We soon arrived at Kowalski's yurta. There was no trace of the usual +sick-room smell of medicines, for Kowalski believed neither in doctors +nor in medicines. But an air of sadness and desolation pervaded the +room. The little dog lay curled up under the bed, from which, +notwithstanding the open window, an unpleasant smell reminded one that +the sick man was no longer able to get up. + +He looked so unlike a living being that we concluded, on entering and +seeing him lying there with his eyes closed, that he was dead. The +locksmith went up to the bed, put his hand under the bedclothes and +touched his feet; they were cold. But Kowalski called out loudly and +emphatically as I had never heard him before: + +'I am alive! I am glad that you have come, for I should like to speak +to you of death.' + +The haste and anxiety with which these words were uttered bore out our +premonition that we had only just come in time; we looked at each +other; Kowalski caught this look and understood it. + +'I know,' he said, 'that I shall die soon, it would be vain to hide +from myself what I can see quite clearly. That is why I want to speak +to you. I was afraid no one would come... I was afraid no one would +hear what I have got to say and that he whom you call the Merciful God +would take away my power of speech... I thank you for your thought. May +you not be lonely either when your hour of death calls you from an +unhappy life.' + +Kowalski stopped; only his brow, which was alternately contracted and +smoothed, showed that the dying man was trying with his last remnant of +strength to collect his thoughts and to retain the last spark of life. + +It was early morning, and the sun threw two great sheaves of golden +rays through the window on to the wall where the bed stood. From the +wide expanse of fields and the archipelago of islands in the river, +redolent with luxurious vegetation, life and the echoes of life and +movement emanated like a melodious song, a great hymn of thanksgiving +in the bright sunshine; it penetrated to the bed of the dying man and +formed an indescribable contrast to what was passing inside the yurta. + +This brightness, this noise as of a great song of life, was like an +irony, like scorn levelled at the deathbed of this living corpse.... + + + +Meanwhile Kowalski had begun to speak. + +'Long ago,' he said--'it must be about forty years--I was exiled to the +steppes of Orenburg. I was young and strong, I trusted in God and had +confidence in men and in myself. I may have been right or I may have +been wrong, but I thought it was my duty not to leave my energy to the +chance of fate, but to try and find a wider field of activity than was +open to me in this country. Homesickness too urged me on, and after two +years I escaped.... + +'I was punished by being sent to Tomsk, but this did not daunt me. I +started my life afresh with renewed energy, lived on bread and water +until I had saved enough for what I needed, and escaped again.... + +'For this second flight I was punished as an obstinate backslider, and +it took several years before I could make another attempt, but that +time I got farther away than before. It was an unusually hard winter, I +had no money and only insufficient clothing. My feet were frostbitten, +and I lost my toes. That was a hard blow, especially as they sent me +beyond the Yenessi this time. + +'My situation was difficult; the country was dreary and desolate, it +was hard to earn a living. But although I had no toes I managed to +learn a trade or two, and one or the other used to bring me in a little +income, small but sure. + +'This time I waited six years, then, without regard for the state of my +feet, I started off again.... + +'You see, I had no more confidence in my strength. I was ill and +broken, it was not the same goal as before that drew me westwards.... I +wanted to die there... to die there.... + +'I dreamt of dying on my mother's grave as of a great happiness. + +'My life had been such that no one except my mother had ever been good +to me; I had had no sweetheart, no wife, no children.... + +'And now, feeling weak and forsaken, I longed for the grave of this one +being who had loved me. + +'In sleepless nights I felt her hand touching my head, her kiss and the +hot tears with which she took her last leave of me, conscious perhaps +that our separation would be eternal. I do not know even now whether +the longing for my mother or for my native land was the stronger. But +it was a hard pilgrimage this time. I could not walk fast because of +the wounds on my feet which kept breaking open. I often had to hide for +days in the woods like a wild animal. + +'Vultures and crows[1]--ill omens of the end--circled over my head, +scenting their prey. Worn out with hunger I broke down from time to +time, and...fool that I was, I always prayed. I implored the Almighty +God, the merciful God, the just God, the God of the poor, the God of +the forsaken: + +[Footnote 1: Siberian fugitives look upon them with superstition.] + +'"Help me, have mercy on me! Gracious Father! send me death, I ask for +no other mercy than death! I will give it to myself, but only +there...." + +'Two years passed before I reached the province of Perm. I had never +before got so far. My heart began to beat joyously, in my head there +was only one thought: "I shall see my beloved native soil, and I shall +die at my beloved mother's grave." When I left the Ural behind me I +definitely believed in my salvation, I threw myself down upon the +ground, and for a long, long time I lay there, sobbing and thanking God +for His grace and His mercy. But He, the Merciful, was only preparing +His last blow, and that same day.... Then they took me as far as +Yakutsk!... + +'Why did I live on so long in this misery? + +'Why did I wait here for such an end as this? + +'Because I wanted to see what God intended to do to me. 'Now see what +He has made of a human being who trusted Him like a child, who has +never known what happiness in this world meant, nor demanded it, who +has never received love from anyone but his mother and, although maimed +and crippled, has worked hard until the end, never stretched out his +hands for alms, never stolen or coveted his neighbours' possessions, +who has ever given away the half of what he had... see what He has made +of me!... + +'That is why I hate Him, no longer trust in Him....I don't believe in +His Saints or His Judgment or His Justice; hear me, brothers, I call +you to witness in the hour of my death, so that you should know it and +can testify to it before Him when you die.' + +He raised himself with an effort, stretched out his hands towards the +sun and called with a loud voice: + +'I, a dying worm, truly acknowledge Thee to be the God of the satiated, +the God of the wicked, the God of the impure, and that Thou hast ruined +me, a guiltless man!...' + + + +The sun had risen higher and was now gilding the bed of pain of this +living skeleton--terrible to behold in his loose skin. + +When he sank back exhausted, we were shocked, for we thought that he +would give up the ghost before we had time to comfort him and ease his +last hour. + +'Let us pray for him,' whispered the locksmith. We knelt down; with +trembling hands I pulled out the book; it opened of itself where a +bookmarker had been placed at the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel of +St. John. + +Raising my voice I began to read: + +'I am the true Vine and My Father is the Husbandman.' + +The dying man's chest heaved violently, his eyes were closed. He was +now quite covered by the golden rays; it seemed as if the sun meant to +reward him at the last moment for his hard life, so closely did the +rays hug him, warming his stiff limbs, calming him, kissing him as a +mother kisses and caresses her drowsy child and wraps it round with her +own warmth. + +Kowalski was still alive. + +I continued to read the words of Christ, so full of power and faith and +deep, blessed hope: + +'If the world hate you, ye know that it hated Me before it hated +you...' + +The inspiring words of the Comforter of sufferers and the caress of the +vivifying light eased the dying man's pain. He opened his eyes and two +great tears welled forth--the last tears which this man had to spare. + +The rays of the sun kissed the tears on his ashen countenance and made +them shine with divine light; it seemed as if they endeavoured to +present to their Creator in pure colours the burning fire which had +consumed this man and was concentrated in his tears. + +I read on: + +'Verily, verily, I say unto you, that ye shall weep and lament, but the +world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful, but your sorrow shall +be turned into joy...' + +The dying man tried to lift his hands, they fell back powerless, but he +murmured in a low, distinct voice: 'Lord, by Thy pain forgive me!' + +I could not read further. In silence we knelt, and the dog stood +between us, puzzled and looking at his master. Once more the dying +man's eyes turned towards us, he opened his mouth, and we heard him say +yet more slowly and weakly: 'Doggy, do not bark at the Almighty.' + +The faithful creature threw himself whining upon his master's limp +hand, from which the life had already fled. + +Kowalski's eyes closed, a short, dull rattle came from his throat, his +chest sank back, he stretched himself a little: the life of suffering +was ended. + + + +When we recovered ourselves we heard the violent barking of the dog, +who, without understanding his master's last wish, was faithfully +carrying out the sole duty of his life. He barked and growled +incessantly, and came back from time to time to the bed and his +master's limply hanging hand in expectation of the usual caress. + +But his master lay immovable, the cold hand hung stiffly; exhausted and +hoarse the dog ran out again into the enclosure. + +We left; but at a long distance from the yurta we could still hear the +barking of the senseless creature. + + + + +FOREBODINGS + + +TWO SKETCHES BY + +STEFAN ZEROMSKI[1] + +[Footnote 1: The accent on the Z softens the sound approximately to +that of the French g in _gele_.] + + + + +I had spent an hour at the railway station, waiting for the train to +come in. I had stared indifferently at several ladies in turn who were +yawning in the corners of the waiting-room. Then I had tried the effect +of making eyes at a fair-haired young girl with a small white nose, +rosy cheeks, and eyes like forget-me-nots; she had stuck out her tongue +(red as a field-poppy) at me, and I was now at a loss to know what to +do next to kill time. + +Fortunately for me two young students entered the waiting-room. They +looked dirty from head to foot, mud-bespattered, untidy, and exhausted +with travelling. One of them, a fair boy with a charming profile, +seemed absent-minded or depressed. He sat down in a corner, took off +his cap, and hid his face in his hands. His companion bought his ticket +for him, sat down beside him, and grasped his hand from time to time. + +'Why should you despair? All may yet be well. Listen, Anton.' + +'No, it's no good, he is dying, I know it.... I know... perhaps he is +dead already.' + +'Don't believe it! Has your father ever had this kind of attack +before?' + +'He has; he has suffered from his heart for three years. He used to +drink at times. Think of it, there are eight of us, some are young +children, and my mother is delicate. In another six months his pension +would have been due. Terribly hard luck!' + +'You are meeting trouble half-way, Anton.' + +The bell sounded, and the waiting-room became a scene of confusion. +People seized their luggage and trampled on each other's toes; the +porter who stood at the entrance-door was stormed with questions. There +was bustle and noise everywhere. I entered the third-class carriage in +which the fair-haired student was sitting. His friend had put him into +it, settling him in the corner-seat beside the window, as if he were an +invalid, and urging him to take comfort. It did not come easy to him, +the words seemed to stick in his throat. The fair-haired boy's face +twitched convulsively, and his eyelids closed over his moist eyes. + +'Anton, my dear fellow,' the other said, 'well, you understand what I +mean; God knows. You may be sure... confound it all!' + +The second bell sounded, and then the third. The sympathizing friend +stepped out of the carriage, and, as the train started, he waved an odd +kind of farewell greeting, as if he were threatening him with his +fists. + +In the carriage were a number of poor people, Jews, women with +enormously wide cloaks, who had elbowed their way to their seats, and +sat chattering or smoking. + +The student stood up and looked out of the window without seeing. Lines +of sparks like living fire passed by the grimy window-pane, and balls +of vapour and smoke, resembling large tufts of wool, were dashed to +pieces and hurried to the ground by the wind. The smoke curled round +the small shrubs growing close to the ground, moistened by the rain in +the valley. The dusk of the autumn day spread a dim light over the +landscape, and produced an effect of indescribable melancholy. Poor +boy! Poor boy! + +The loneliness of boundless sorrow was expressed in his weary look as +he gazed out of the window. I knew that the pivot on which all his +emotions turned was the anxiety of uncertainty, and that beyond the +bounds of conscious thought an unknown loom was weaving for him a +shadowy thread of hope. He saw, he heard nothing, while his vacant eyes +followed the balls of smoke. As the train travelled along, I knew that +he was miserable, tired out, that he would have liked to cry quietly. +The thread of hope wound itself round his heart: Who could tell? +perhaps his father was recovering, perhaps all would be well? + +Suddenly (I knew it would come), the blood rushed from his face, his +lips went pale and tightened; he was gazing into the far distance with +wide-open eyes. It was as if a threatening hand, piercing the grief, +loneliness and dread that weighed on him, was pointing at him, as if +the wind were rousing him with the cry: 'Beware!' His thread of hope +was strained to breaking-point, and the naked truth, which he had not +quite faced till that minute, struck him through the heart like a +sword. + +Had I approached him at that instant, and told him I was an omniscient +spirit and knew his village well, and that his father was not lying +dead, he would have fallen at my feet and believed, and I should have +done him an infinite kindness. + +But I did not speak to him, and I did not take his hand. All I wished +to do was merely to watch him with the interest and insatiable +curiosity which the human heart ever arouses in me. + + + + 'Let my fate go whither it listeth.' (_Oedipus Tyrannus_.) + +In the darkest corner of the ward, in the bed marked number +twenty-four, a farm labourer of about thirty years of age had been +lying for several months. A black wooden tablet, bearing the words +'Caries tuberculosa', hung at the head of the bed, and shook at each +movement of the patient. The poor fellow's leg had had to be amputated +above the knee, the result of a tubercular decay of the bone. He was a +peasant, a potato-grower, and his forefathers had grown potatoes before +him. He was now on his own, after having been in two situations; had +been married for three years and had a baby son with a tuft of flaxen +hair. Then suddenly, from no cause that he could tell, his knee had +pained him, and small ulcers had formed. He had afforded himself a +carriage to the town, and there he had been handed over to the hospital +at the expense of the parish. + +He remembered distinctly how on that autumn afternoon he had driven in +the splendid, cushioned carriage with his young wife, how they had both +wept with fright and grief, and when they had finished crying had eaten +hard-boiled eggs: but what had happened after that had all become +blurred--indescribably misty. Yet only partially so. + +Of the days in the hospital with their routine and monotony, creating +an incomprehensible break in his life, his memory retained nothing; but +the unchanging grief, weighing like a slab of stone on a grave, was +ever present in his soul with inexorable and brutal force during these +many months. He only half recalled the strange wonders that had been +worked on him: bathing, feeding, probing into the wound, and later on +the operation. He had been carried into a room full of gentlemen +wearing aprons spotted with blood; he was conscious also of the +mysterious, intrepid courage which, like a merciful hand, had supported +him from that hour. + +After having gazed at the awe-inspiring phenomena which surrounded him +in the semicircle of the hospital theatre, he had slept during the +operation. His simple heart had not worked out the lesson which sleep, +the greatest mistress on earth, teaches. After the operation everything +had been veiled by mortal lassitude. This had continued, but in the +afternoon and at night they had mixed something heavy, like a stone +ball, into his drinking-cup, and waves of warmth had flowed to the toes +of his healthy foot from the cup. Thoughts chased one another swiftly, +like tiny quicksilver balls through some corner of his brain, and while +he lay bathed in perspiration, and his eyelids closed of their own +accord, not in sleep but in unconsciousness, he had been pursued by +strange, half-waking visions. + +Everything real seemed to disappear, only dimly lighted, vacant space +remained, pervaded by the smell of chloroform. He seemed to be in the +interior of a huge cone, stretching along the ground like a tunnel. Far +away in the distance, where it narrowed towards the opening, there was +a sparkling, white spot; if he could get there, he might escape. He +seemed to be travelling day and night towards that chink along unending +spiral lines running within the surface of the tunnel; he travelled +under compulsion and with great effort, slowly, like a snail, although +within him something leapt up like a rabbit caught in a snare, or as if +wings were fluttering in his soul. He knew what was beyond that chink. +Only a few steps would lead him to the ridge under the wood... to his +own four strips of potato-field! And whenever he roused himself +mechanically from his apathy he had a vision of the potato-harvest. The +transparent autumn-haze in the fields was bringing objects that were +far off into relief, and making them appear perfectly distinct. He saw +himself together with his young wife, digging beautiful potatoes, large +as their fists. + +On the hillock, amid the stubble, the herdsmen were assembled in +groups, their wallets slung round them; they were crouching on their +heels, had collected dry juniper and lighted a fire; with bits of +sticks they were scraping out the baked potatoes from the ashes. The +rising smoke scented the air fragrantly with juniper. + +At times, when he was better and more himself, when the fever tormented +him less, he sank into the state of timidity and apprehension known +only to those harassed almost beyond human endurance and to the dying. +Fear oppressed him till his whole being shrank into something less than +the smallest grain; he was hurled by fearful sounds and overawing +obsessions into a bottomless abyss. + +At last the wound on his foot began to heal, and the fever to abate. +His mind returned from that other world to the familiar one, and to +reflecting on what was taking place before his eyes. But the nature of +these reflections had changed. Formerly he had felt self-pity arising +from terror; now it was the wild hatred of the wounded man, his +overpowering desire for revenge; his rage turned as fiercely even upon +the unfortunate ones lying beside him as upon those who had maimed him. +But another idea had taken even more powerfully possession of his mind; +his thoughts darted forward like a pack of hounds on the trail, in +frantic pursuit of the power which had thus passed sentence on him. + +This condition of lonely self-torment lasted a long while, and +increased his exasperation. + +And then, one day, he noticed that his healthy foot was growing stiff +and the ankle swelling. When the head-surgeon came on his daily rounds, +the patient confided his fear to him. The doctor examined the emaciated +limb, unobserved lanced the abscess, perceived that the probe reached +to the bone, rubbed his hands together and looked into the peasant's +face with a sad, doubtful look. + +'This is a bad job, my good fellow. It may mean the other foot; was +that what you were thinking of? And you are a bad subject. But we will +do it for you here; you will be better off than in your cottage, we +will give you plenty to eat.' And he passed on, accompanied by his +assistant. At the door he turned back, bent over the sick man, and +furtively, so that no one should see, passed his hand kindly over his +head. + +The peasant's mind became a blank; it was as if someone had unawares +dealt him a blow in the dark with a club. He closed his eyes and lay +still for a long time... until an unknown feeling of calm came over +him. + +There is an enchanted, hidden spot in the human soul, fastened with +seven locks, which no one and nothing but that picklock, bitter +adversity, can open. + +Through the lips of the self-blinded Oedipus, Sophocles makes mention +of this secret place. Within it are hidden marvellous joy, sweet +necessity, the highest wisdom. + +As the poor fellow lay silently on his bed, the special conception that +arose in his mind was that of Christ walking on the waves of the raging +sea, quelling the storm. + +Henceforward through long nights and wretched days he was looking at +everything from an immeasurable distance, from a safe place, where all +was calm and wholly well, whence everything seemed small, slightly +ludicrous and foolish, and yet lovable. + +'And may the Lord Jesus...may He give His peace to all people,' he +whispered to himself. 'Never mind, this will do as well for me!' + + + + + +A POLISH SCENE + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT[1] + +[Footnote 1: The stroke softens the l approximately to the sound of w.] + + +[The place is a solitary inn in Russian Poland, near the Prussian +frontier, kept by a Jew named Herszlik, part of whose occupation is to +smuggle emigrants for America by night across the border. Besides +emigrants and Herszlik are present an old beggar man and his wife or +'doxy', a couple of peasants drinking together, and Jan (or, in +diminutive form, Jasiek), a youth who has just escaped from a prison to +which he had been sentenced for an attack, under great provocation, on +a steward, and now creeps into the inn out of the surrounding forest.] + + + + +It was a night of March, a night of rain, cold, and tempest. + +The forest, cramped, stiff, soaked to its marrow, and agitated now and +then by an icy shiver, threw out its boughs in a sort of feverish panic +as if to shake the water from them, and roared the wild note of a +creature in torture. At times a damp snow stilled all to helpless +silence, broken by a passing groan or the cry of some frozen bird or +rattle of some body falling on the boughs. Then once more the wind +flung itself with fury on the woods, dug into their depths with its +teeth, tore off boughs, and with a roar of triumph whistled along the +glades and swept the forest as with a besom; or from out of the depths +of space huge mud-coloured clouds, like piles of rotting hay, strangled +the trees in their embrace, or dissolved in a cold unceasing drizzle +that might have penetrated a stone. The roads were deserted, flooded +with a mixture of mud and foul snow; the villages seemed dead, the +fields shrivelled, the rivers ice-fettered; man and life were to be +seen nowhere; night ruled alone. + +Only in the single inn of Przylecki shone a small light; it stood in +the middle of the forest at cross roads; a few cottages were visible on +the side of a hill: the rest was the mighty forest. + +Jasiek Winciorek pushed forward cautiously from the wood to the road, +and at sight of the blinking light walked stealthily to the window, +peeped in, then in timid perplexity drew back a few steps till a fresh +blast of wind froze him so that the poor boy turned back once more, +crossed himself, and entered. + +The inn was large, with a floor of clay, and a black ceiling resting on +walls out of the perpendicular; these had lost their whitewash, and +were pierced by two small windows half-choked up with straw. Directly +opposite the latter, behind a wooden railing, stood a cask resting on +other barrels, above which smoked the red glare of a naphtha lamp. Over +the room lay a dense darkness, only lightened now and then with flashes +from an expiring fire in a large old-world fire-place, before which sat +a pair of beggars. In a corner might be seen a number of persons +huddled together whispering mysteriously. By the cask were two +peasants, one clasping a bottle, the other holding out a glass; they +often drank healths to one another and nodded sleepily. A fat red +damsel was snoring behind the railing. Over all there spread a smell +compounded of whisky, sodden clay, and soaked rags. + +At times such a stillness fell on the room that one could hear the +sounds of the forest, the tinkle of the rain on the window-panes, the +crackling of the pine boughs in the fireplace. And then a low door +behind the railing opened with a creak, and there appeared the old grey +head of a Jew, dressed in his praying gown, and singing in a low voice, +while behind him shone a room lighted with small candles, from which +issued Sabbath smells and a quiet monotonous dreary sound of singing. +Jasiek drank a few glasses one after the other, gnawed half-consciously +some mouldy rolls as tough as leather, which he seasoned with a +herring, and looked now at the door, now at the window, or listened to +the murmur of the voices. + +'Marry, no, curse it, I won't marry!' suddenly shouted one of the two +peasants, knocking his bottle on the cask and spitting as far as the +shoulder of the beggar man at the fire. + +'But you must,' whispered the other, 'or repay the money.' + +'God! that's nothing! Jevka!'--this to the girl--'half a pint of +whisky! I pay!' + +'Money is a big thing, though a woman is a bigger.' + +'No, curse it, I won't marry! I'll sell myself, borrow, pay back the +money, rather than marry that harridan.' + +'Just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say to you.' + +'You won't get round me. I have said no, and that is no. Why, if I +must, I will run away to Brazil or the end of the world with those folk +yonder!' + +'Silly! just take a drop to my health, Antek: I have something to say +to you.' + +They drank healths to one another several times, then began kissing, +then fell silent, for a child was crying in a corner, and a movement +began among the quiet timid crowd. + +A tall dried-up peasant appeared out of the darkness and walked out of +the inn. + +Jasiek moved up to the fire, for the cold was in his bones, and putting +his herring on a stick began to toast it over the coals. 'Move up a +bit,' he whispered to the beggar man, who had his feet on his wallet, +and though quite blind, was drying at the fire the soaked strips he +wore round his legs, and talking endlessly in a low voice to the woman +by him; she was cooking something and arranging boughs under a tripod +on which stood a pot. + +Jasiek got warmer, and steam as from a bucket of boiling water went up +from his long coat. + +'You are badly soaked,' whispered the beggar, sniffing. + +'I am,' said Jasiek in a whisper, shivering. The door creaked, but it +was only the thin peasant returning. + +'Who is that?' whispered Jasiek, tapping the beggar on the arm. + +'Those? I don't know him; but those are silly fools going to Brazil.' +He spat. + +Jasiek said not a word, but went on drying himself and moving his eyes +about the room, where the people, apparently grown uneasy, now talked +with increasing loudness, now fell suddenly silent, while every moment +one of them went out of the inn, and returned immediately. + +From the inner room the monotonous chant still reached them. A hungry +dog crept out from nowhere to the fire and began to growl at the +beggars, but getting a blow from a stick he howled with pain, settled +himself in the middle of the room, and with a piteous look gazed at the +steam rising from the pot. + +Jasiek was getting warmer; he had eaten his herring and rolls, but +still felt more sharply than ever that he wanted something. He minutely +searched his pockets, but not finding even a farthing there, doubled +himself together and gazed idly at the pot and the beams of the fire. + +'You want to eat--eh?' asked the beggar woman presently. + +'I have... a small rumbling in my belly.' + +'Who is it?' the beggar man softly inquired of the woman. + +'Don't be afraid,' she growled with malice: 'he won't give you a +threepenny bit, not so much as a farthing.' + +'A farmer?' + +'Yes, a farmer, like you: one who goes about the world'--and she took +the pot off the tripod. + +'And there are good people in the world--and wild beasts--and pigs out +of sties.... Hey?' said the beggar man, poking Jasiek with his stick. + +'Yes, yes,' answered the boy, not knowing what he said. + +'You have something on your mind, I see,' whispered the beggar. + +'I have.' + +'The Lord Jesus always said: "If you are hungry, eat; if you are +thirsty, drink; but if you are in trouble, don't chatter."' + +'Eat a little,' the woman begged the boy; 'it is beggars' food, but it +will do you good,' and she poured out a liberal portion on a plate. +From the bag she drew out a piece of brown bread and put it in the soup +unnoticed; then as he moved up to eat and she saw his worn grey face, +mere skin and bone, pity so moved her that she took out a piece of +sausage and laid it on the bread. + +Jasiek could not resist but ate greedily, from time to time throwing a +bone to the dog, who had crept up with entreating eyes. + +The beggar man listened a long time; then, when the woman put the pot +into his hands, he raised his spoon and said solemnly: + +'Eat, man. The Lord Jesus said, give a beggar a farthing and another +shall repay thee ten. God be with you!' + +They ate in silence, till in an interval the beggar rubbed his mouth +with his cuff and said: + +'Three things are needful for food to do you good--spirit, salt, bread. +Give us spirit, woman!' + +All three drank together and then went on eating. + +Jasiek had almost forgotten his danger and threw no more timid looks +around. He just ate, sated himself with warmth, sated slowly the +four-days' hunger that gnawed him, and felt peaceful in the quietness. + +The two peasants had left the cask, but the crowd in the corner on +benches or with their bags under their heads on the wet floor were +still quietly dreaming; and still came, but in ever sleepier tones, the +sound of singing from the inner room. And the rain was still falling +and penetrating the roof in some places; it dripped from the ceiling +and formed shining sticky circles of mud on the clay floor. And still +at times the wind shook the inn or howled in the fire-place, scattered +the burning boughs and drove smoke into the room. + +'There is something for you too, vagabond!' whispered the woman, giving +the rest of the food to the dog, who flitted about them with beseeching +eyes. + +Then the beggar spoke. 'With food in his belly a man is not badly off, +even in hell,' he said, setting down the empty pot. + +'God repay you for feeding me!' said Jasiek, and squeezed the beggar's +hand; the other did not at once let him go, but felt his hand +carefully. + +'For a few years you have not worked with your hands,' he murmured; but +Jan tore his hand away in a fright. + +'Sit down,' continued the beggar, 'don't be afraid. The Lord Jesus +said: "All are just men who fear God and help the poor orphan." +Fearnot, man. I am no Judas nor Jew, but an honest Christian and a poor +orphan myself.' + +He thought for a moment, then in a quiet voice said: + +'Attend to three things: love the Lord Jesus, never be hungry, and give +to a man more unfortunate than yourself. All the rest is just nothing, +rotten fancies. A wise man should never vex himself uselessly. Ho! we +know a dozen things. Eh, what do you say?' + +He pricked up his ears and waited, but Jasiek remained stubbornly +silent, fearing to betray himself; then the beggar brought out his bark +snuffbox, tapped it with his finger, took snuff, sneezed, and handed it +to the boy. Then, bending his huge blind face over the fire, he began +to talk in low monotonous tones. + +'There is no justice in the world; all men are Pharisees and rogues; +one man pushes another in front of him out of the way; each tries to be +the first to cheat the other, to eat him up. That wasn't the will of +the Lord Jesus. Ho! go into a squire's house, take off your cap, and +sing, though your throat is bursting, about Jesus and Mary and all the +Saints; then wait--nothing comes. Put in a few prayers about the Lord's +Transfiguration; then wait. Nothing again. No, only the small dogs +whine about your wallet and the maids bustle behind the hedges. Add a +litany--perhaps they give you two farthings or a mouldy bit of bread. +Curse you! I wish you were dirty, half-blind, and had to ask even +beggars for help! Why, after all that praying the whisky to wash my +throat with costs me more than they give!' He spat with disgust. + +'But are others better off, eh?' he continued, after a sniff. 'Jantek +Kulik--I dare say you know him--took a little pig of a squire's. And +what enjoyment did he have of it? Precious little. It was a miserable +creature, like a small yard dog; you could drown the whole body of him +in a quart of whisky. Well, for that he was arrested and put in prison +for half a year--and for what? for a miserable pig! as if a pig weren't +one of God's creatures too, and some were meant to die of hunger, and +some to have more than they can stuff into their throats. And yet the +Lord Jesus said: "What a poor man takes, that is as if you had given it +for My sake." Amen. Won't you take a drink?' + +'God repay you, but it has already turned my head a bit!' + +'Silly! the Lord Jesus himself drank at feasts. Drinking is no sin; it +is a sin, sure enough, to swill like a pig or to sit without talking +when good folk are gossiping, but not to drink the gift of God to the +bottom. You just drink my health,' he whispered resolutely. + +He drank himself from the bottle with a long gurgle in his throat; then +handing it to Jasiek, said merrily: + +'Drink, orphan. Observe only three things--to work the whole week, to +say your Paternoster, and on Sunday to give to the unfortunate, and +then you shall have redemption for your soul. Man, if you can't drink a +gallon, drink a quart!' + +Thereupon all fell silent. The woman was sleeping with her head +drooping by the extinct flame, the man had opened wide his +cataract-covered eyes at the glowing coals, and once and again nodded +vigorously. In the corner the whispers were silent; only the wind +struck the panes more violently than ever and shook the door, and from +the inner room burst forth the voices in an ecstasy, it seemed, of pity +or despair. + +Jasiek, overcome by the warmth of the whisky, felt sleepy, stretched +his legs out towards the fire, and felt an irresistible desire to lie +down. He fought against it with energetic movements, but every now and +then became utterly stiff and remembered nothing. A pleasant warm mist +compounded out of the beams of the fire, kindly words, and stillness, +wrapped him in darkness and a deep sense of freedom and security. At +times he woke suddenly, he could not have said why, glanced over the +room, or listened for a moment to the beggar, who was asleep but still +muttered: 'For all souls in Purgatory--Ave Maria, gratia plena,' and +then, 'Man, I tell you that a good beggar should have a stick with a +point, a deep wallet, and a long Paternoster.' Here he woke up, and +feeling Jasiek's eyes on him, recovered his wits and began to speak: + +'Hear what an old man says. Take a drop to my health, and listen. Man, +I tell you, be prudent, but don't force it into any one's eyes. Note +everything, and yet be blind to everything. If you live with a fool, be +a greater fool; with a lame man, have no legs at all; with a sick man, +die for him. If men give you a farthing, thank them as if it were a bit +of silver; if they set dogs on you, take it as your offering to the +Lord Jesus; if they beat you with a stick, say your Paternoster. + +'Man, I tell you, do as I advise and you shall have your wallet full, +your belly like a mountain, and you shall lead the whole world in a +string like silly cattle.... Eh, eh, I am a man not born to-day but one +that knows a dozen things. He that can observe the way of the world, no +trouble shall come to him. At the squire's house take your revenge on +the peasants; that is a sure farthing and perhaps a morsel from the +dinner; at the priest's abuse the peasants and the squires; that is two +farthings sure, and absolution too; and when you are in the cottages, +abuse everything, and you will eat millet and bacon, and drink whisky +mixed with fat.' + +Here he began to drowse, still murmuring incoherently, 'Man, I tell +you... for the soul of Julina... Ave Maria...', and rocked on the +bench. + +'Gratia plena... help a poor cripple!' This was the woman babbling in +her sleep, as she raised her head from the fire-place; but the man woke +up suddenly and cried, 'Be quiet, silly!' for the entrance door was +thrown loudly open, and there pushed in among them a tall yellow-haired +Jew. + +'On to the road,' he called in a deep voice, 'it's time'; and at once +the whole crowd of sleepers sprang to their feet, began to put their +loads on their backs, to get ready, to push forward into the middle of +the room and again for no reason to retire. A low tumult of +sound--abuse or complaint--burst from all: there were hot passages of +words, cries, curses, gesticulations, or the beginnings of muttered +prayers, noise, and crying children--but all kept under restraint, and +yet filling the gloomy blackened room with a sense of alarm. + +Jasiek awoke completely, and with his shoulders pressed to the now +cooling fireplace, looked round curiously at the people as far as he +could make them out. + +'Where are they going?' he asked the beggar. + +'To Brazil.' + +'Is it far?' + +'Ho! ho! it's the end of the world, beyond the tenth sea.' + +'And why?' + +'First because they are fools, and second because they are +unfortunate.' + +'And do they know the way?' Jasiek asked again, hugely astonished. + +But the beggar was no longer answering him; pushing on the woman with a +stick, he came forward into the middle of the room, fell on his knees, +and began in a sort of plaintive chant: + +'You are going beyond the seas, the mountains, the forests--to the end +of the world. The Lord Jesus bless you, orphans! The Virgin of +Czenstochowa keep you, and all the saints help you in return for the +farthing that you give to this poor cripple...To the Lord's +Transfiguration! Ave Maria....' + +'Gratia plena: the Lord be with you,' murmured the woman, kneeling at +his side. + +'Blessed art thou among women,' answered the crowd and pressed forward. + +All knelt; a subdued sobbing arose; heads were bowed; trusting and +resigned hearts breathed their emotions in prayer. A warm glow of trust +kindled the dull eyes and pinched faces, straightened the bent +shoulders, and gave them such force that they rose from their prayer +heartened and unconquerable. + +'Herszlik, Herszlik!' they called to the Jew, who had disappeared into +the inner room. They were eager now to go into that unknown world, so +terrible and yet so alluring for its very strangeness; eager to take on +their shoulders their new fate and to escape from the old. + +Herszlik came out armed with a dark lantern, counted the people, made +them range themselves in pairs, opened the door: they began to move +like some phantom army of misery, a column of ragged shadows, and +disappeared at once in the darkness and rain. For a moment there shone +in the gloom and amid the tossing trees the solitary light of their +guide, for a moment one could hear amid wailing a tremulous hymn, 'He +who casts himself on the care of the Lord....' Then the storm broke out +again in what seemed like the groan of dying masses. + +'Poor creatures! orphans!' whispered Jasiek; a wild grief filled his +heart. + +Then he returned to the inn, now dumb and dark, for the girl had +extinguished the light and gone to sleep, and the singing had ceased in +the inner room: only the beggar remained awake; he and the woman were +counting the people's alms. + +'A poor parish! two threepenny bits and five and twenty farthings--the +whole show! Ha! May the Lord Jesus never remember them or help them!' + +He went on babbling, but Jasiek no longer listened. Crouched in the +fire-place he hid himself as best he could in his still wet cloak and +fell into a stony sleep. + +A good while after midnight he was awakened by a sharp tug; a light +shone straight into his eyes. + +'Hey, brother, get up! Who are you? Have you your passport?' + +He came to his senses at once: two policemen stood over him. + +'Have you your passport?' the policeman asked again, shaking him like a +bundle of straw. + +But for answer Jasiek jumped to his feet and struck the man with his +fist between the eyes, so that he dropped his lantern and fell +backwards, while Jasiek darted to the door and ran out. The other +policeman chased him, and being unable to catch him, fired. + +Jasiek tottered a moment, shrieked, and fell in the mud, then jumped up +at once and was lost in the darkness of the forest. + + + + + + +DEATH + +BY + +WLADYSLAW ST. REYMONT + + +'Father, eh, father, get up, do you hear?--Eh, get a move on!' + +'Oh God, oh Blessed Virgin! Aoh!' groaned the old man, who was being +violently shaken. His face peeped out from under his sheepskin, a +sunken, battered, and deeply-lined face, of the same colour as the +earth he had tilled for so many years; with a shock of hair, grey as +the furrows of ploughed fields in autumn. His eyes were closed; +breathing heavily he dropped his tongue from his half-open bluish mouth +with cracked lips. + +'Get up! hi!' shouted his daughter. + +'Grandad!' whimpered a little girl who stood in her chemise and a +cotton apron tied across her chest, and raised herself on tiptoe to +look at the old man's face. + +'Grandad!' There were tears in her blue eyes and sorrow in her grimy +little face. 'Grandad!' she called out once more, and plucked at the +pillow. + +'Shut up!' screamed her mother, took her by the nape of the neck and +thrust her against the stove. + +'Out with you, damned dog!' she roared, when she stumbled over the old +half-blind bitch who was sniffing the bed. 'Out you go! will you...you +carrion!' and she kicked the animal so violently with her clog that it +tumbled over, and, whining, crept towards the closed door. The little +girl stood sobbing near the stove, and rubbed her nose and eyes with +her small fists. + +'Father, get up while I am still in a good humour!' + +The sick man was silent, his head had fallen on one side, his breathing +became more and more laboured. He had not much longer to live. + +'Get up. What's the idea? Do you think you are going to do your dying +here? Not if I know it! Go to Julina, you old dog! You've given the +property to Julina, let her look after you...come now...while I'm yet +asking you!' + +'Oh blessed Child Jesus! oh Mary....' + +A sudden spasm contracted his face, wet with anxiety and sweat. With a +jerk his daughter tore away the feather-bed, and, taking the old man +round the middle, she pulled him furiously half out of the bed, so that +only his head and shoulders were resting on it; he lay motionless like +a piece of wood, and, like a piece of wood, stiff and dried up. + +'Priest.... His Reverence...' he murmured under his heavy breathing. + +'I'll give you your priest! You shall kick your bucket in the pigsty, +you sinner...like a dog!' She seized him under the armpits, but dropped +him again directly, and covered him entirely with the feather-bed, for +she had noticed a shadow flitting past the window. Some one was coming +up to the house. + +She scarcely had time to push the old man's feet back into the bed. +Blue in the face, she furiously banged the feather-bed and pushed the +bedding about. + +The wife of the peasant Dyziak came into the room. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity...' growled the other, and glanced suspiciously at her out +of the corners of her eyes. + +'How do you do? Are you well?' + +'Thank God... so so...' + +'How's the old man? Well?' + +She was stamping the snow off her clogs near the door. + +'Eh... how should he be well? He can hardly fetch his breath any more.' + +'Neighbour... you don't say so... neighbour...' She was bending down +over the old man. + +'Priest,' he sighed. + +'Dear me... just fancy... dear me, he doesn't know me! The poor man +wants the priest. He's dying, that's certain, he's all but dead +already... dear me! Well, and did you send for his Reverence?' + +'Have I got any one to send?' + +'But you don't mean to let a Christian soul die without the sacrament?' + +'I can't run off and leave him alone, and perhaps...he may recover.' + +'Don't you believe it... hoho... just listen to his breathing. That +means that his inside is withering up. It's just as it was with my +Walek last year when he was so ill.' + +'Well, dear, you'd better go for the priest, make haste... look!' + +'All right, all right. Poor thing! He looks as if he couldn't last much +longer. I must make haste... I'm off...' and she tied her apron more +firmly over her head. + +'Good-bye, Antkowa.' + +'Go with God.' + +Dyziakowa went out, while the other woman began to put the room in +order; she scraped the dirt off the floor, swept it up, strewed +wood-ashes, scrubbed her pots and pans and put them in a row. From time +to time she turned a look of hatred on to the bed, spat, clenched her +fists, and held her head in helpless despair. + +'Fifteen acres of land, the pigs, three cows, furniture, clothes--half +of it, I'm sure, would come to six thousand... good God!' + +And as though the thought of so large a sum was giving her fresh +vigour, she scrubbed her saucepans with a fury that made the walls +ring, and banged them down on the board. + +'May you... may you!' She continued to count up: 'Fowls, geese, calves, +all the farm implements. And all left to that trull! May misery eat you +up... may the worms devour you in the ditch for the wrong you have done +me, and for leaving me no better off than an orphan!' + +She sprang towards the bed in a towering rage and shouted: + +'Get up! 'And when the old man did not move, she threatened him with +her fists and screamed into his face: + +'That's what you've come here for, to do your dying here, and I am to +pay for your funeral and buy you a hooded cloak... that's what he +thinks. I don't think! You won't live to see me do it! If your Julina +is so sweet, you'd better make haste and go to her. Was it I who was +supposed to look after you in your dotage? She is the pet, and if you +think...' + +She did not finish, for she heard the tinkling of the bell, and the +priest entered with the sacrament. + +Antkowa bowed down to his feet, wiping tears of rage from her eyes, and +after she had poured the holy water into a chipped basin and put the +asperges-brush beside it, she went out into the passage, where a few +people who had come with the priest were waiting already. + +'Christ be praised.' + +'In Eternity.' + +'What is it?' + +'Oh nothing! Only that he's come here to give up... with us, whom he +has wronged. And now he won't give up. Oh dear me... poor me!' + +She began to cry. + +'That's true! He will have to rot, and you will have to live,' they all +answered in unison and nodded their heads. + +'One's own father,' she began again. '... Have we, Antek and I, not +taken care of him, worked for him, sweated for him, just as much as +they? Not a single egg would I sell, not half a pound of butter, but +put it all down his throat; the little drop of milk I have taken away +from the baby and given it to him, because he was an old man and my +father... and now he goes and gives it all to Tomek. Fifteen acres of +land, the cottage, the cows, the pigs, the calf, and the farm-carts and +all the furniture... is that nothing? Oh, pity me! There's no justice +in this world, none... Oh, oh!' + +She leant against the wall, sobbing loudly. + +'Don't cry, neighbour, don't cry. God is full of mercy, but not always +towards the poor. He will reward you some day.' + +'Idiot, what's the good of talking like that?' interrupted the +speaker's husband. 'What's wrong is wrong. The old man will go, and +poverty will stay.' + +'It's hard to make an ox move when he won't lift up his feet,' another +man said thoughtfully. + +'Eh... You can get used to everything in time, even to hell,' murmured +a third, and spat from between his teeth. + +The little group relapsed into silence. The wind rattled the door and +blew snow through the crevices on to the floor. The peasants stood +thoughtfully, with bared heads, and stamped their feet to get warm. The +women, with their hands under their cotton aprons, and huddled +together, looked with patient resigned faces towards the door of the +living-room. + +At last the bell summoned them into the room; they entered one by one, +pushing each other aside. The dying man was lying on his back, his head +deeply buried in the pillows; his yellow chest, covered with white +hair, showed under the open shirt. The priest bent over him and laid +the wafer upon his outstretched tongue. All knelt down and, with their +eyes raised to the ceiling, violently smote their chests, while they +sighed and sniffled audibly. The women bent down to the ground and +babbled: 'Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world.' + +The dog, worried by the frequent tinkling of the bell, growled +ill-temperedly in the corner. + +The priest had finished the last unction, and beckoned to the dying +man's daughter. 'Where's yours, Antkowa?' + +'Where should he be, your Reverence, if not at his daily job?' + +For a moment the priest stood, hesitating, looked at the assembly, +pulled his expensive fur tighter round his shoulders; but he could not +think of anything suitable to say; so he only nodded to them and went +out, giving them his white, aristocratic hand to kiss, while they bent +towards his knees. + +When he had gone they immediately dispersed. The short December day was +drawing to its close. The wind had gone down, but the snow was now +falling in large, thick flakes. The evening twilight crept into the +room. Antkowa was sitting in front of the fire; she broke off twig +after twig of the dry firewood, and carelessly threw them upon the +fire. + +She seemed to be purposing something, for she glanced again and again +at the window, and then at the bed. The sick man had been lying quite +still for a considerable time. She got very impatient, jumped up from +her stool and stood still, eagerly listening and looking about; then +she sat down again. + +Night was falling fast. It was almost quite dark in the room. The +little girl was dozing, curled up near the stove. The fire was +flickering feebly with a reddish light which lighted up the woman's +knees and a bit of the floor. + +The dog started whining and scratched at the door. The chickens on the +ladder cackled low and long. + +Now a deep silence reigned in the room. A damp chill rose from the wet +floor. + +Antkowa suddenly got up to peer through the window at the village +street; it was empty. The snow was falling thickly, blotting out +everything at a few steps' distance. Undecided, she paused in front of +the bed, but only for a moment; then she suddenly pulled away the +feather-bed roughly and determinedly, and threw it on to the other +bedstead. She took the dying man under the armpits and lifted him high +up. + +'Magda! Open the door.' + +Magda jumped up, frightened, and opened the door. + +'Come here...take hold of his feet.' + +Magda clutched at her grandfather's feet with her small hands and +looked up in expectation. + +'Well, get on...help me to carry him! Don't stare about...carry him, +that's what you've got to do!' she commanded again, severely. + +The old man was heavy, perfectly helpless, and apparently unconscious; +he did not seem to realize what was being done to him. She held him +tight and carried, or rather dragged him along, for the little girl had +stumbled over the threshold and dropped his feet, which were drawing +two deep furrows in the snow. + +The penetrating cold had restored the dying man to consciousness, for +in the yard he began to moan and utter broken words: + +'Julisha...oh God...Ju...' + +'That's right, you scream...scream as much as you like, nobody will +hear you, even if you shout your mouth off!' + +She dragged him across the yard, opened the door of the pigsty with her +foot, pulled him in, and dropped him close to the wall. + +The sow came forward, grunting, followed by her piglets. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came out of the sty and she banged the door, but returned +almost immediately, tore the shirt open on the old man's chest, tore +off his chaplet, and took it with her. + +'Now die, you leper!' + +She kicked his naked leg, which was lying across the opening, with her +clog, and went out. + +The pigs were running about in the yard; she looked back at them from +the passage. + +'Malusha! malu, malu, malu!' + +The pigs came running up to her, squeaking; she brought out a bowlfull +of potatoes and emptied it. The mother-pig began to eat greedily, and +the piglets poked their pink noses into her and pulled at her until +nothing but their loud smacking could be heard. + +Antkowa lighted a small lamp above the fireplace and tore open the +chaplet, with her back turned towards the window. A sudden gleam came +into her eyes, when a number of banknotes and two silver roubles fell +out. + +'It wasn't just talk then, his saying that he'd put by the money for +the funeral.' She wrapped the money up in a rag and put it into the +chest. + +'You Judas! May eternal blindness strike you!' + +She put the pots and pans straight and tried to cheer the fire which +was going out. + +'Drat it! That plague of a boy has left me without a drop of water.' + +She stepped outside and called 'Ignatz! Hi! Ignatz!' + +A good half-hour passed, then the snow creaked under stealthy footsteps +and a shadow stole past the window. Antkowa seized a piece of wood and +stood by the door which was flung wide open; a small boy of about nine +entered the room. + +'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you? And not a drop +of water in the house!' + +Clutching him with one hand she beat the screaming child with the +other. + +'Mummy! I won't do it again.... Mummy, leave off.... Mumm...' + +She beat him long and hard, giving vent to all her pent-up rage. + +'Mother! Ow! All ye Saints! She's killing me!' + +'You dog! You're loafing about, and not a drop of water do you fetch +me, and there's no wood am I to feed you for nothing, and you worrying +me into the bargain?' She hit harder. + +At last he tore himself away, jumped out by the window, and shouted +back at her with a tear-choked voice: + +'May your paws rot off to the elbows, you dog of a mother! May you be +stricken down, you sow!... You may wait till you're manure before I +fetch you any water!' + +And he ran back to the village. + +The room suddenly seemed strangely empty. The lamp above the fireplace +trembled feebly. The little girl was sobbing to herself. + +'What are you snivelling about?' + +'Mummy...oh... oh...grandad...' + +She leant, weeping, against her mother's knee. + +'Leave off, idiot!' + +She took the child on her lap, and, pressing her close, she began to +clean her head. The little thing babbled incoherently, she looked +feverish; she rubbed her eyes with her small fists and presently went +to sleep, still sobbing convulsively from time to time. + +Soon afterwards the husband returned home. He was a huge fellow in a +sheepskin, and wore a muffler round his cap. His face was blue with +cold; his moustache, covered with hoar-frost, looked like a brush. He +knocked the snow off his boots, took muffler and cap off together, +dusted the snow off his fur, clapped his stiff hands against his arms, +pushed the bench towards the fire, and sat down heavily. + +Antkowa took a saucepan full of cabbage off the fire and put it in +front of her husband, cut a piece of bread and gave it him, together +with the spoon. The peasant ate in silence, but when he had finished he +undid his fur, stretched his legs, and said: 'Is there any more?' + +She gave him the remains of their midday porridge; he spooned it up +after he had cut himself another piece of bread; then he took out his +pouch, rolled a cigarette and lighted it, threw some sticks on the fire +and drew closer to it. A good while later he looked round the room. +'Where's the old man?' + +'Where should he be? In the pigsty.' + +He looked questioningly at her. + +'I should think so! What should he loll in the bed for, and dirty the +bedclothes? If he's got to give up, he will give up all the quicker in +there.... Has he given me a single thing? What should he come to me +for? Am I to pay for his funeral and give him his food? If he doesn't +give up now--and I tell you, he is a tough one--then he'll eat us out +of house and home. If Julina is to have everything let her look after +him--that's nothing to do with me.' + +'Isn't my father... and cheated us... he has. I don't care.... The old +speculator!' + +Antek swallowed the smoke of his cigarette and spat into the middle of +the room. + +'If he hadn't cheated us we should now have... wait a minute... we've +got five... and seven and a half... makes... five and... seven...' + +'Twelve and a half. I had counted that up long ago; we could have kept +a horse and three cows... bah!... the carrion!' + +Again he spat furiously. + +The woman got up, laid the child down on the bed, took the little rag +bundle from the chest and put it into her husband's hand. + +'What's that?' + +'Look at it.' + +He opened the linen rag. An expression of greed came into his face, he +bent forward towards the fire with his whole frame, so as to hide the +money, and counted it over twice. 'How much is it?' + +She did not know the money values. + +'Fifty-four roubles.' + +'Lord! So much?' + +Her eyes shone; she stretched out her hand and fondled the money. + +'How did you come by it?' + +'Ah bah... how? Don't you remember the old man telling us last year +that he had put by enough to pay for his funeral?' + +'That's right, he did say that.' + +'He had stitched it into his chaplet and I took it from him; holy +things shouldn't knock about in a pigsty, that would be sinful; then I +felt the silver through the linen, so I tore that off and took the +money. That is ours; hasn't he wronged us enough?' + +'That's God's truth. It's ours; that little bit at least is coming back +to us. Put it by with the other money, we can just do with it. Only +yesterday Smoletz told me he wanted to borrow a thousand roubles from +me; he will give his five acres of ploughed fields near the forest as +security.' + +'Have you got enough?' + +'I think I have.' + +'And will you begin to sow the fields yourself in the spring?' + +'Rather... if I shouldn't have quite enough now, I will sell the sow; +even if I should have to sell the little ones as well I must lend him +the money. For he won't be able to redeem it,' he added, 'I know what +I know. We shall go to the lawyer and make a proper contract that the +ground will be mine unless he repays the money within five years.' + +'Can you do that?' + +'Of course I can. How did Dumin get hold of Dyziak's fields?... Put it +away; you may keep the silver, buy what you like with it. Where's +Ignatz?' + +'He's run off somewhere. Ha! no water, it's all gone....' + +The peasant got up without a word, looked after the cattle, went in and +out, fetched water and wood. + +The supper was boiling in the saucepan. Ignatz cautiously crept into +the room; no one spoke to him. They were all silent and strangely ill +at ease. The old man was not mentioned; it was as if he had never been. + +Antek thought of his five acres; he looked upon them as a certainty. +Momentarily the old man came into his mind, and then again the sow he +had meant to kill when she had finished with the sucking-pigs. Again +and again he spat when his eyes fell on the empty bedstead, as if he +wanted to get rid of an unpleasant thought. He was worried, did not +finish his supper, and went to bed immediately after. He turned over +from side to side; the potatoes and cabbage, groats and bread gave him +indigestion, but he got over it and went to sleep. + +When all was silent, Antkowa gently opened the door into the next room +where the bundles of flax lay. From underneath these she fetched a +packet of banknotes wrapped up in a linen rag, and added the money. She +smoothed the notes many times over, opened them out, folded them up +again, until she had gazed her fill; then she put out the light and +went to bed beside her husband. + +Meanwhile the old man had died. The pigsty, a miserable lean-to run up +of planks and thatched with branches, gave no protection against wind +and weather. No one heard the helpless old man entreating for mercy in +a voice trembling with despair. No one saw him creep to the closed door +and raise himself with a superhuman effort to try and open it. He felt +death gaining upon him; from his heels it crept upwards to his chest, +holding it as in a vice, and shaking him in terrible spasms; his jaws +closed upon each other, tighter and tighter, until he was no longer +able to open them and scream. His veins were hardening till they felt +like wires. He reared up feebly, till at last he broke down on the +threshold, with foam on his lips, and a look of horror at being left to +die of cold, in his broken eyes; his face was distorted by an +expression of anguish which was like a frozen cry. There he lay. + +The next morning before dawn Antek and his wife got up. His first +thought was to see what had happened to the old man. + +He went to look, but could not get the door of the pigsty to open, the +corpse was barring it from the inside like a beam. At last, after a +great effort, he was able to open it far enough to slip in, but he came +out again at once, terror-stricken. He could hardly get fast enough +across the yard and into the house; he was almost senseless with fear. +He could not understand what was happening to him; his whole frame +shook as in a fever, and he stood by the door panting and unable to +utter a word. + +Antkowa was at that moment teaching little Magda her prayer. She turned +her head towards her husband with questioning eyes. + +'Thy will be done...' she babbled thoughtlessly. + +'Thy will...' + +'... be done...' + +'... be done...' the kneeling child repeated like an echo. + +'Well, is he dead?' she jerked out, '...on earth...' + +'... on earth...' + +'To be sure, he's lying across the door,' he answered under his breath. + +'... as it is in Heaven...' + +'... is in Heaven...' 'But we can't leave him there; people might say +we took him there to get rid of him--we can't have that...' + +'What do you want me to do with him?' + +'How do I know? You must do something.' + +'Perhaps we can get him across here?' suggested Antek. + +'Look at that now...let him rot! Bring him in here? Not if...' + +'Idiot, he will have to be buried.' + +'Are we to pay for his funeral?...but deliver us from evil...what are +you blinking your silly eyes for?...go on praying.' + +'... deliver...us...from...evil...' + +'I shouldn't think of paying for that, that's Tomek's business by law +and right.' + +'... Amen...' + +'Amen.' + +She made the sign of the cross over the child, wiped its nose with her +fingers and went up to her husband. + +He whispered: 'We must get him across.' + +'Into the house...here?' + +'Where else?' + +'Into the cowshed; we can lead the calf out and lay him down on the +bench, let him lie in state there, if he likes...such a one as he has +been!' + +'Monika!' + +'Eh?' + +'We ought to get him out there.' + +'Well, fetch him out then.' + +'All right...but...' + +'You're afraid, what?' + +'Idiot...damned...' + +'What else?' + +'It's dark...' + +'If you wait till it's day, people will see you.' + +'Let's go together.' + +'You go if you are so keen.' + +'Are you coming, you carrion, or are you not?' he shouted at her; 'he's +your father, not mine.' And he flung out of the room in a rage. + +The woman followed him without a word. + +When they entered the pigsty, a breath of horror struck them, like the +exhalation from a corpse. The old man was lying there, cold as ice; one +half of his body had frozen on to the floor; they had to tear him off +forcibly before they could drag him across the threshold and into the +yard. + +Antkowa began to tremble violently at the sight of him; he looked +terrifying in the light of the grey dawn, on the white coverlet of +snow, with his anguished face, wide-open eyes, and drooping tongue on +which the teeth had closed firmly. There were blue patches on his skin, +and he was covered with filth from head to foot. + +'Take hold,' whispered the man, bending over him. 'How horribly cold he +is!' + +The icy wind which rises just before the sun, blew into their faces, +and shook the snow off the swinging twigs with a dry crackle. + +Here and there a star was still visible against the leaden background +of the sky. From the village came the creaking noise of the hauling of +water, and the cocks crew as if the weather were going to change. + +Antkowa shut her eyes and covered her hands with her apron, before she +took hold of the old man's feet; they could hardly lift him, he was so +heavy. They had barely put him down on a bench when she fled back into +the house, throwing out a linen-rag to her husband to cover the corpse. + +The children were busy scraping potatoes; she waited impatiently at the +door. + +'Have done...come in!... Lord, how long you are!' + +'We must get some one to come and wash him,' she said, laying the +breakfast, when he had come in. + +'I will fetch the deaf-mute.' + +'Don't go to work to-day.' + +'Go...no, not I...' + +They did not speak again, and ate their breakfast without appetite, +although as a rule they finished their four quarts of soup between +them. + +When they went out into the yard they walked quickly, and did not turn +their heads towards the other side. They were worried, but did not know +why; they felt no remorse; it was perhaps more a vague fear of the +corpse, or fear of death, that shook them and made them silent. + +When it was broad day, Antek fetched the village deaf-mute, who washed +and dressed the old man, laid him out, and put a consecrated candle at +his head. + +Antek then went to give notice to the priest and to the Soltys of his +father-in-law's death and his own inability to pay for the funeral. + +'Let Tomek bury him; he has got all the money.' + +The news of the old man's death spread rapidly throughout the village. +People soon began to assemble in little groups to look at the corpse. +They murmured a prayer, shook their heads, and went off to talk it +over. + +It was not till towards evening that Tomek, the other son-in-law, under +pressure of public opinion, declared himself willing to pay for the +funeral. + +On the third day, shortly before this was to take place, Tomek's wife +made her appearance at Antek's cottage. + +In the passage she almost came nose to nose with her sister, who was +just taking a pail of dishwater out to the cowshed. + +'Blessed be Jesus Christ,' she murmured, and kept her hand on the +door-handle. + +'Now: look at that... soul of a Judas!' Antkowa put the pail down hard. +'She's come to spy about here. Got rid of the old one somehow, didn't +you? Hasn't he given everything to you... and you dare show yourself +here, you trull! Have you come for the rest of the rags he left here, +what?' + +'I bought him a new sukmana at Whitsuntide, he can keep that on, of +course, but I must have the sheepskin back, because it has been bought +with money I have earned in the sweat of my brow,' Tomekowa replied +calmly. + +'Have it back, you mangy dog, have it back?' screamed Antkowa. 'I'll +give it you, you'll see what you will have...' and she looked round for +an object that would serve her purpose. 'Take it away? You dare! You +have crawled to him and lickspittled till he became the idiot he was +and made everything over to you and wronged me, and then...' + +'Everybody knows that we bought the land from him, there are +witnesses...' + +'Bought it? Look at her! You mean to say you're not afraid to lie like +that under God's living eyes? Bought it! Cheats, that's what you are, +thieves, dogs! You stole the money from him first, and then.... Didn't +you make him eat out of the pig-pail? Adam is a witness that he had to +pick the potatoes out of the pig-pail, ha! You've let him sleep in the +cowshed, because, you said, he stank so that you couldn't eat. Fifteen +acres of land and a dower-life like that... for so much property! And +you've beaten him too, you swine, you monkey!' + +'Hold your snout, or I'll shut it for you and make you remember, you +sow, you trull!' + +'Come on then, come on, you destitute creature!' 'I... destitute?' + +'Yes, you! You would have rotted in a ditch, the vermin would have +eaten you up, if Tomek hadn't married you.' + +'I, destitute? Oh you carrion!' They sprang at each other, clutching at +each other's hair; they fought in the narrow passage, screaming +themselves hoarse all the time. + +'You street-walker, you loafer... there! that's one for you! There's +one for my fifteen acres, and for all the wrong you have done me, you +dirty dog!' + +'For the love of God, you women, leave off, leave off! It's a sin and a +shame!' cried the neighbours. + +'Let me go, you leper, will you let go?' + +'I'll beat you to death, I will tear you to pieces, you filth!' + +They fell down, hitting each other indiscriminately, knocked over the +pail, and rolled about in the pigwash. At last, speechless with rage +and only breathing hard, they still banged away at each other. The men +were hardly able to separate them. Purple in the face, scratched all +over, and covered with filth, they looked like witches. Their fury was +boundless; they sprang at each other again, and had to be separated a +second time. + +At last Antkowa began to sob hysterically with rage and exhaustion, +tore her own hair and wailed: 'Oh Jesus! Oh little child Jesus! Oh +Mary! Look at this pestiferous woman...curse those heathen...oh! +oh!...' she was only able to roar, leaning against the wall. + +Tomekowa, meanwhile, was cursing and shouting outside the house, and +banging her heels against the door. + +The spectators stood in little groups, taking counsel with each other, +and stamping their feet in the snow. The women looked like red spots +dabbed on to the wall; they pressed their knees together, for the wind +was penetratingly cold. They murmured remarks to each other from time +to time, while they watched the road leading to the church, the spires +of which stood out clearly behind the branches of the bare trees. Every +minute some one or other wanted to have another look at the corpse; it +was a perpetual coming and going. The small yellow flames of the +candles could be seen through the half-open door, flaring in the +draught, and momentarily revealing a glimpse of the dead man's sharp +profile as he lay in the coffin. The smell of burning juniper floated +through the air, together with the murmurings of prayers and the grunts +of the deaf-mute. + +At last the priest arrived with the organist. The white pine coffin was +carried out and put into the cart. The women began to sing the usual +lamentations, while the procession started down the long village street +towards the cemetery. The priest intoned the first words of the +Service for the Dead, walking at the head of the procession with his +black biretta on his head; he had thrown a thick fur cloak over his +surplice; the wind made the ends of his stole flutter; the words of the +Latin hymn fell from his lips at intervals, dully, as though they had +been frozen; he looked bored and impatient, and let his eyes wander +into the distance. The wind tugged at the black banner, and the +pictures of heaven and hell on it wobbled and fluttered to and fro, as +though anxious to display themselves to the rows of cottages on either +side, where women with shawls over their heads and bare-headed men were +standing huddled together. + +They bowed reverently, made the sign of the cross, and beat their +breasts. + +The dogs were barking furiously from behind the hedges, some jumped on +to the stone walls and broke into long-drawn howls. + +Eager little children peeped out from behind the closed windows, beside +toothless used-up old people's faces, furrowed as fields in autumn. + +A small crowd of boys in linen trousers and blue jackets with brass +buttons, their bare feet stuck into wooden sandals, ran behind the +priest, staring at the pictures of heaven and hell, and intoning the +intervals of the chant with thin, shivering voices: a! o!... They kept +it up as long as the organist did not change the chant. + +Ignatz proudly walked in front, holding the banner with one hand and +singing the loudest of all. He was flushed with exertion and cold, but +he never relaxed, as though eager to show that he alone had a right to +sing, because it was his grandfather who was being carried to the +grave. They left the village behind. The wind threw itself upon Antek, +whose huge form towered above all the others, and ruffled his hair; but +he did not notice the wind, he was entirely taken up with the horses +and with steadying the coffin, which was tilting dangerously at every +hole in the road. + +The two sisters were walking close behind the coffin, murmuring prayers +and eyeing each other with furious glances. + +'Tsutsu! Go home!...Go home at once, you carrion!' One of the mourners +pretended to pick up a stone. The dog, who had been following the cart, +whined, put her tail between her legs, and fled behind a heap of stones +by the roadside; when the procession had moved on a good bit, she ran +after it in a semi-circle, and anxiously kept close to the horses, lest +she should be prevented again from following. + +The Latin chant had come to an end. The women, with shrill voices, +began to sing the old hymn: 'He who dwelleth under the protection of +the Lord.' + +It sounded thin. The blizzard, which was getting up, did not allow the +singing to come to much. Twilight was falling. + +The wind drove clouds of snow across from the endless, steppe-like +plains, dotted here and there with skeleton trees, and lashed the +little crowd of human beings as with a whip. + +'... and loves and keeps with faithful heart His word...,' they +insisted through the whistling of the tempest and the frequent shouts +of Antek, who was getting breathless with cold: 'Woa! woa, my lads!' + +Snowdrifts were beginning to form across the road like huge wedges, +starting from behind trees and heaps of stones. + +Again and again the singing was interrupted when the people looked +round anxiously into the white void: it seemed to be moving when the +wind struck it with dull thuds; now it towered in huge walls, now it +dissolved like breakers, turned over, and furiously darted sprays of a +thousand sharp needles into the faces of the mourners. Many of them +returned half-way, fearing an increase of the blizzard, the others +hurried on to the cemetery in the greatest haste, almost at a run. They +got through the ceremony as fast as they could; the grave was ready, +they quickly sang a little more, the priest sprinkled holy water on the +coffin; frozen clods of earth and snow rolled down, and the people fled +home. + +Tomek invited everybody to his house, because 'the reverend Father had +said to him, that other-wise the ceremony would doubtless end in an +ungodly way at the public-house.' + +Antek's answer to the invitation was a curse. The four of them, +including Ignatz and the peasant Smoletz, turned into the inn. + +They drank four quarts of spirits mixed with fat, ate three pounds of +sausages, and talked about the money transaction. + +The heat of the room and the spirits soon made Antek very drunk. He +stumbled so on the way home that his wife took him firmly under the +arm. + +Smoletz remained at the inn to drink an extra glass in prospect of the +loan, but Ignatz ran home ahead as fast as he could, for he was +horribly cold. + +'Look here, mother...,' said Antek, 'the five acres are mine! aha! +mine, do you hear? In the autumn I shall sow wheat and barley, and in +the spring we will plant potatoes... mine... they are mine!... God is +my comfort, sayest thou...,' he suddenly began to sing. + +The storm was raging, and howling. + +'Shut up! You'll fall down, and that will be the end of it.' + +'... His angel keepeth watch...,' he stopped abruptly. The darkness was +impenetrable, nothing could be seen at a distance of two feet. The +blizzard had reached the highest degree of fury; whistling and howling +on a gigantic scale filled the air, and mountains of snow hurled +themselves upon them. + +From Tomek's cottage came the sound of funeral chants and loud talking +when they passed by. + +'These heathen! These thieves! You wait, I'll show you my five acres! +Then I shall have ten. You won't lord it over me! Dogs'-breed... aha! +I'll work, I'll slave, but I shall get it, eh, mother? we will get it, +what?' he hammered his chest with his fist, and rolled his drunken +eyes. + +He went on like this for a while, but as soon as they reached their +home, the woman dragged him into bed, where he fell down like a dead +man. But he did not go to sleep yet, for after a time he shouted: +'Ignatz!' + +The boy approached, but with caution, for fear of contact with the +paternal foot. + +'Ignatz, you dead dog! Ignatz, you shall be a first-class peasant, not +a beggarly professional man,' he bawled, and brought his fist down on +the bedstead. + +'The five acres are mine, mine! Foxy Germans,[1] you... da...' He went +to sleep. + +[Footnote 1: 'The term 'German' is used for 'foreigner' generally, whom +the Polish peasant despises.] + + + + + +THE SENTENCE + +BY + +J. KADEN-BANDKOWSKI + + + +'Yakob... Yakob... Yakob!' + +The old man was repeating his name to himself, or rather he was +inwardly listening to the sound of it which he had been accustomed to +hear for so many years. He had heard it in the stable, in the fields, +and on the grazing-ground, on the steps of the manor-house and at the +Jew's, but never like this. It seemed to issue from unknown depths, +summoning sounds never heard before, sights never yet seen, producing a +confusion which he had never experienced. He saw it, felt it +everywhere; it was itself the cause of a hopeless despair. + +This despair crept silently into Yakob's fatalistic and submissive +soul. He felt it under his hand, as though he were holding another +hand. He was as conscious of it as of his hairy chest, his cold and +starved body. This despair, moreover, was blended with a kind of +patient expectancy which was expressed by the whispering of his pale, +trembling lips, the tepid sweat under his armpits, the saliva running +into his throat and making his tongue feel rigid like a piece of wood. + +This is what happened: he tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come swarming in from everywhere; they had taken the men away; +it was firearms everywhere...everywhere firearms, noise and hubbub. The +whole world was pushing, running, sweating or freezing. They arrived +from this side or from that; they asked questions, they hunted people +down, they followed up a trail, they fought. Of course, one must not +betray one's brothers, but then...who are one's brothers? + +They placed watches in the mountains, in the forests, on the fields; +they even drove people into the mountain-passes and told them to hold +out at any cost. + +Yakób had been sitting in the chimney-corner in the straw and dust, +covered with his frozen rags. The wind swept over the mountains and +penetrated into the cottage, bringing with it a white covering of hoar- +frost; it was sighing eerily in the fields; the fields themselves +seemed to flee from it, and to be alive, running away into the +distance. The earth in white convulsions besieged the sky, and the sky +got entangled in the mountain-forests. + +Yakób was looking at the snow which was falling thickly, and tried to +penetrate the veil with his eyes. Stronger and faster raged the +blizzard. Yakób's stare became vacant under the rumbling of the storm +and the driving of the snow; one could not have told whether he was +looking with eyes or with lumps of ice. + +Shadows were flitting across the snowdrifts. They were the outlines of +objects lit up by the fire; they trembled on the window-frames; the +fire flickered, and the shadows treacherously caressed the images of +saints on the walls. The beam played on the window, threw a red light +on the short posts of the railing, and disappeared in pursuit of the +wind in the fields. + +'Yakób...Yakób...Yakób!' + +And he had really had nothing to do with it! It had all gone against +him continuously, pertinaciously, and to no purpose. It had attached +itself to him, clung to the dry flour that flew about in atoms in the +tin where the bit of cheese also was kept. It had bewitched the +creaking of the windows on their hinges; it had stared from the empty +seats along the walls. + +But he kept on beating his breast. His forehead was wrinkled in dried- +up folds, his brows bristled fantastically into shaggy, dirty tufts. +His heavy, blunt nose, powdered with hairs at the tip, stood out +obstinately between two deep folds on either side. These folds overhung +the corners of his mouth, and were joined below the chin by a network +of pallid veins. A noise, light as a beetle's wing, came in puffs from +the half-open lips; they were swollen and purple like an overgrown +bean. + +Yakób had been sitting in Turkish fashion, his hands crossed over his +chest, breathing forth his misery so quietly that it covered him, +together with the hoar-frost, stopped his ears and made the tufts of +hair on his chest glitter. He was hugging his sorrow to himself, +abandoning the last remnant of hope, and longing for deliverance. +Behind the wrinkles of his forehead there swarmed a multitude not so +much of pictures as of ghosts of the past, yet vividly present. + +At last he got up and sat down on the bench in the chimney-corner, drew +a pipe from his trouser-pocket and put it between his teeth, forgetting +to light it. He laid his heavy hands round the stem. Beyond the +blizzard and the shadow-play of the flame, there appeared to him the +scene of his wife and daughters' flight. He had given up everything he +possessed, had taken off his sheepskin, had himself loosened the cow +from the post. For a short moment he had caught sight of his wife and +daughters again in the distance, tramping through the snow as they +passed the cross-roads, then they had been swallowed up in a mass of +people, horses, guns, carts, shouts and curses. Since then he had +constantly fancied that he was being called, yet he knew that there was +no one to call him. His thoughts were entirely absorbed in what he had +seen then. With his wife all his possessions had gone. Now there was +nothing but silence, surrounding him with a sharp breath of pain and +death. + +By day and by night Yakob had listened to the shots that struck his +cottage and his pear-trees. He chewed a bit of cheese from time to +time, and gulped down with it the bitter fear that his cottage might be +set on fire. + +For here and there, like large red poppies on the snow, the glare of +burning homesteads leapt up into the sky. + +'Here I am...watching,' he said to himself, when he looked at these +blood-red graves. He smiled at the sticks of firewood on his hearth, +which was the dearest thing on earth to him. The walls of his cottage +were one with his inmost being, and every moment when he saw them +standing, seemed to him like precious savings which he was putting +away. So he watched for several days; the vermin were overrunning the +place, and he was becoming desperate. Since mid-day the silence had +deepened; the day declined, and there was nothing in the world but +solitude and snow. + +Yakób went over to the window. The snow was lying deep on the fields, +like a shimmering coat of varnish; the world was bathed in the light of +a pale, wan moon. The forest-trees stood out here and there in blue +points, like teeth. Large and brilliant the stars looked down, and +above the milky way, veiled in vapours, hung the sickle of the moon. + +While in the immensity of the night cold and glittering worlds were +bowing down before the eternal, Yakób looked, and noticed something +approaching from the mountains. Along the heights and slopes there was +a long chain of lights; it was opening out from the centre into two +lines on either side, which looked as though they were lost in the +forest. Below them there were confused gleams in the fields, and +behind, in the distance, the glow of the burning homesteads. + +'They have burned the vicarage,' thought Yakób, and his heart answered: +'and here am I...watching.' + +He pressed against the window-frame, glued his grey face to the panes +and, trembling with cold, sent out an obstinate and hostile glance into +space, as though determined to obtain permission to keep his own +heritage. + +Suddenly he pricked up his ears. Something was approaching from the +distance across the forest very cautiously. The snow was creaking under +the advancing steps. In the great silence it sounded like the forging +of iron. Those were horses' hoofs stamping the snow. + +This sound, suppressed as it was, produced in him a peculiar sensation +which starts in the head and grips you in the nape of the neck, the +consciousness that someone is hiding close to you. + +Yakob stood quite still at the window, not even moving his pipe from +one corner of his mouth to the other. Not he himself seemed to be +trembling, only his rags. + +The door was suddenly thrown open and a soldier appeared on the +threshold. The light of a lantern which was suspended on his chest, +filled the room. + +Yakob's blood was freezing. Cossacks, hairy like bears, were standing +in the opening of the door, the snow which covered them was shining +like a white flame. In the courtyard there were steaming horses; +lanceheads were glittering like reliquaries. + +Yakob understood that they were calling him 'old man', and asking him +questions. He extended his hands to express that he knew nothing. Some +of the Cossacks entered, and made signs to him to make up the fire. + +He noticed that they were bringing more horses into the yard, small, +shaggy ponies like wolves. + +He became calmer, and his fear disappeared; he only remained cautious +and observant; everything that happened seemed to take hours, yet he +saw it with precision. + +'It is cold...it is cold!' + +He made up the fire for these bandits who stretched themselves on the +benches; he felt they were talking and laughing about him, and he +turned to them and nodded; he thought it would please them if he showed +that he approved of them. They asked him about God knows what, where +they were, and where they were not. As though he knew! + +Then they started all over again, while they swung their booted legs +under the seats. One of them came up to the hearth, and clapped the +crouching Yakob on his back for fun, but it hurt. It was a resounding +smack. Yakob scratched himself and rumpled his hair, unable to +understand. + +They boiled water and made tea; a smell of sausages spread about the +room. Yakob bit his jaws together and looked at the fire. He sat in his +place as though he had been glued to it. + +His ears were tingling when he heard the soldiers grinding their teeth +on their food, tearing the skin off the sausages and smacking their +lips. + +A large and painful void was gaping in his inside. + +They devoured their food fast and noisily, and an odour of brandy began +to fill the room, and contracted Yakob's throat. + +He understood that they were inviting him to share the meal, but he +felt uneasy about that, and though his stomach seemed to have shrunk, +and the sausage-skins and bones which they had thrown away lay quite +close to him, he could not make up his mind to move and pick them up. + +'Come on!' + +The soldier beckoned to him. 'Come here!' + +The old man felt that he was weakening, the savoury smell took +possession of him. + +But 'I shan't go,' he thought. The soldier, gnawing a bone, repeated, +'Come on!' + +'I shan't go,' thought Yakob, and spat into the fire, to assure himself +that he was not going. All the same...the terribly tempting smell made +him more and more feeble. + +At last two of them got up, took him under the arms, and sat him down +between them. + +They made signs to him, they held the sausage under his nose; the tea +was steaming, the brandy smelt delicious. + +Yakob put his hands on the table, then put them behind him. Black +shadows were gesticulating on the walls. He felt unhappy about sharing +a meal with people without knowing what they were, never having seen or +known them before. They were Russians, thus much he knew. He had a +vision of something that happened long ago, he could not distinctly +remember what it was, for it happened so very long ago; his grandfather +had come home from the fair that was held in the town, shivering and +groaning. There had been outcries and curses. + +'They are going to poison me like a dog,' he thought. + +The wind was changing and moaning under the roof. The fire flickered up +and went down; the red flame and the darkness were dancing together on +the walls. The wan moon was looking in at the window. Yakob was sitting +on the bench among the soldiers like his own ghost. + +'They are surely going to poison me,' he kept repeating to himself. He +was still racking his memory as to what it was that had happened so +long ago to his grandfather during the fair, at the inn. God knows what +it was...who could know anything? + +'They are going to poison me!' + +His sides were heaving with his breath, he was trying to breathe +carefully, so as not to smell the repast. + +The shadows on the walls seemed to jeer at him. The soldiers were +beginning to talk thickly; their mouths, their fingers were shining +with grease. They took off their belts and laid their swords aside. The +one next to Yakob put his arm round his neck and whispered in his ear; +his red mouth was quite close; he passed his hand over Yakob's head, +and brought his arm right round his throat. He was young and he was +talking of his father. + +'Daddy,' he said, and put the sausage between his teeth. + +Yakob tried to clench his teeth; but he bit the sausage at the same +time. + +'Daddy,' said the young soldier again, holding out the sausage for +another bite; he stroked his head, looked into his eyes, and laughed. +Yakob was sorry for himself. Was he to be fed like a half-blind old +man? Couldn't he eat by himself? + +When the soldiers saw that Yakob was eating, they burst into shouts of +laughter, and stamped their feet, rattling their spurs. + +He knew they were laughing at him, and it made him easier in his mind +to see that he was affording them pleasure. He purposely made himself +ridiculous with the vague idea that he must do something for them in +payment of what they were giving him; they struck him on the +shoulder-blades to see him gasp with his beanlike mouth, and to see the +frightened smile run over his face like a flash of lightning. + +He ate as though from bravado, but he ate well. They started drinking +again. Yakob looked at them with eagerness, his arms folded over his +stomach, his head bent forward; the hairy hand of the captain put the +bottle to his mouth. + +Now he could laugh his own natural laugh again, and not only from +bravado, for he felt quite happy. His frozen body was getting warmed +through. + +He felt as if a great danger had irrevocably passed. + +Gradually he became garrulous, although they hardly understood what he +was talking about: 'Yes, the sausage was good... to be sure!' He nodded +his head and clicked his tongue; he also approved of the huge chunks of +bread, and whenever the bottle was passed round, he put his head on one +side and folded his hands, as if he were listening to a sermon. From +his neighbour's encircling black sleeve the old face peeped out with +equanimity, looking like a withering poppy. + +'Daddy,' the loquacious Cossack would say from time to time, and point +in the direction of the mountains; tears were standing in his eyes. + +Yakób put his swollen hand on his, and waited for him to say more. + +The soldier held his hand, pointed in the direction of the mountains +again, and sniffled. + +'He respects old age... they are human, there's no denying it,' thought +Yakób, and got up to put more wood on the fire. + +They seized hold of him, they would not allow him to do it. A young +soldier jumped up: 'Sit down, you are old.' + +Yakób held out his empty pipe, and the captain himself filled it. + +So there he sat, among these armed bandits. They were dressed in +sheepskins and warm materials, had sheepskin caps on their heads; there +was he with his bare arms, in well-worn grey trousers, his shirt +fastened together at the neck with a piece of wood. Sitting among them, +defenceless as a centipede, without anyone belonging to him, puffing +clouds of smoke, he inwardly blessed this adventure, in which +everything had turned out so well. The Cossacks looked at the fire, and +they too said: 'This is very nice, very nice.' + +To whom would not a blazing fire on a cold winter's night appeal? + +They got more and more talkative and asked: 'Where are your wife and +children?' They probably too had wives and children! + +'My wife,' he said, 'has gone down to the village, she was afraid.' +They laughed and tapped their chests: 'War is a bad thing, who would +not be afraid?' Yakób assented all the more readily as he felt that for +him the worst was over. + +'Do you know the way to the village?' suddenly asked the captain. He +was almost hidden in clouds of tobacco-smoke, but in his eyes there was +a gleam, hard and sinister, like a bullet in a puff of smoke. + +Yakób did not answer. How should he not know the way? + +They started getting up, buckled on their belts and swords. + +Yakób jumped up to give them the rest of the sausages and food which +had been left on the plates. But they would only take the brandy, and +left the tobacco and the broken meat. + +'That will be for you...afterwards,' said the young Cossack, took a red +muffler off his neck and put it round Yakob's shoulder. + +'That will keep you warm.' + +Yakób laughed back at him, and submitted to having the muffler knotted +tightly round his throat. The young soldier drew a pair of trousers +from his kitbag: 'Those will keep you warm, you are old.' He told him a +long story about the trousers; they had belonged to his brother who had +been killed. + +'You know, it's lucky to wear things like that. Poor old fellow!' + +Yakob stood and looked at the breeches. In the fire-light they seemed +to be trembling like feeble and stricken legs. He laid his hand on them +and smiled, a little defiant and a little touched. + +'You may have them, you may have them,' grunted the captain, and +insisted on his putting them on at once. + +When he had put them on in the chimney-corner and showed himself, they +were all doubled up with laughter. He looked appalling in the black +trousers which were much too large for him, a grey hood and the red +muffler. His head wobbled above the red line as if it had been fixed on +a bleeding neck. The rags on his chest showed the thin, hairy body, the +stiff folds of the breeches produced an effect as if he were not +walking on the ground but floating above it. + +The captain gave the command, the soldiers jumped up and looked once +more round the cottage; the young Cossack put the sausage and meat in a +heap and covered it with a piece of bread. 'For you,' he said once +more, and they turned to leave. + +Yakob went out with them to bid them Godspeed. A vague presentiment +seized him on the threshold, when he looked out at the frozen world, +the stars, like nails fixed into the sky, and the light of the moon on +everything. He was afraid. + +The men went up to their horses, and he saw that there were others +outside. The wind ruffled the shaggy little ponies' manes and threw +snow upon them. The horses, restless, began to bite each other, and the +Cossacks, scattered on the snow like juniper-bushes, reined them in. + +The cottage-door remained open. The lucky horseshoe, nailed to the +threshold, glittered in the light of the hearth, which threw blood-red +streaks between the legs of the table, across the door and beyond it on +to the snow. + +'I wonder whether they will ever return to their families?' he thought, +and: 'How queer it is that one should meet people like that.' + +He was sorry for them. + +The captain touched his arm and asked the way. + +'Straight on.' + +'Far?' + +'No, not far, not at all far.' + +'Where is it?' + +The little group stood in front of him by the side of their wolf-like +ponies. He drew back into the cottage. + +The thought confusedly crossed his mind: 'After all, we did sit +together and ate together, two and two, like friends.' + +He began hurriedly, 'Turn to the left at the crossroads, then across +the fields as far as Gregor's cottage...' + +The captain made a sign that he did not understand. + +He thought: 'Perhaps they will lose their way and make a fuss; then +they will come back to the cottage and eat the meat. I will go with +them as far as the cross-roads.' + +They crept down the road, passed the clump of pine-trees which came out +in a point beside the brook, and went along the valley on the slippery +stones. A large block of ice lay across the brook, shaped like a silver +plough; the waves surrounded it as with golden crescents. The snow +creaked under the soldiers' feet. Yakób walked beside them on his +sandals, like a silent ghost. + +'Now keep straight on as far as the cross,' he said, pointing to a dark +object with a long shadow. 'I can't see anything,' said the captain. He +accompanied them as far as the cross, by the side of which stood a +little shrine; the wan saint was wearing a crown of icicles. + +From that point the village could be seen across the fields. Yakób +discovered that the chain of lights which he had observed earlier in +the evening, had come down from the mountains, for it now seemed to be +close to the village. + +Silence reigned in the sleeping world, every step could be heard. + +This silence filled Yakób's heart with a wild fear; he turned round +with a feeling of helplessness and looked back at his cottage. Probably +the fire was now going out; a red glow appeared and disappeared on the +windows. + +Beyond the cross the road lay through low-lying ground, and was crossed +by another road which led abruptly downwards into fields. Yakob +hesitated. + +'Come on, old man, come on,' they called to him, and walked on without +waiting for his answer. The Cossacks dug their heels into the rugged +ice of the road, and tumbled about in all directions. They had left +their horses at the cross-roads. Each one kept a close hold on his gun, +so that there should be no noise. They were whispering to each other; +it sounded as if a congregation were murmuring their prayers. Yakób led +them, and mentally he held fast to every bush, every lump of ice, +saying to himself at every step that now he was going to leave them, +they could not miss the road now. But he was afraid. + +They no longer whispered, they had become taciturn as they pushed +onwards, stumbling, breathing hard. + +'As far as Gregor's cottage, and then no more!' + +The effect of the drink was passing off. He rubbed his eyes, drew his +rags across his chest. 'What was he doing, leading these people about +on this night?' + +He suddenly stopped where the field-road crossed theirs; the soldiers +in front and behind threw themselves down. It was as if the ground had +swallowed them. + +A black horse was standing in the middle of the road, with extended +nostrils. Its black mane, covered with hoar-frost, was tossed about its +head; the saddle-bags, which were fur-lined, swung in the breeze; large +dark drops were falling from its leg to the ground. + +'Damn it!' cursed the captain. + +The horse looked meekly at them, and stretched its head forward +submissively. Yakób was sorry for the creature; perhaps one could do +something for it. He stood still beside it, and again pointed out the +road. + +'I have done enough, I shan't go any further!' He scratched his head +and smiled, thinking that this was a good opportunity for escape. + +'Come on,' hissed the captain so venomously in his ear that he marched +forward without delay; they followed. + +A dull fear mixed with resentment gripped him with terrible force. He +now ran at the head like a sheep worried by watch-dogs. + +They stopped in front of the cottage, silent, breathless, expectant. + +Yakob looked at his companions with boundless astonishment. Their faces +under their fur-caps had a tense, cruel look, their brows were +wrinkled, their eyes glittered. + +From all sides other Cossacks were advancing. + +He noticed only now that there were some lying concealed behind the +fence on the straw in a confused mass. + +He shuddered; thick drops of perspiration stood on his forehead. The +beating of his heart filled his head like the noise of a hammer, it +seemed to fill everything. In spite of the feeling that he was being +forced to do this thing, he again heard the voice calling: 'Yakob, +Yakob!' + +Up the hillock where Gregor's cottage stood, they advanced on all +fours. + +He clambered upwards, thinking of his wife, and of the cow he had +loosed. Fear veiled his eyes, he saw black spots dancing. + +Gregor's cottage was empty as a graveyard. It had been abandoned; the +open doors creaked on their hinges. Under the window stood a cradle, +covered with snow. + +Silently the soldiers surrounded the cottage, and Yakob went with them, +as though mesmerized by terror, mute and miserable. + +They had hardly got round, when a red glow shot up from the other side +of the village. The soldiers threw themselves down in the snow. + +The thundering of guns began on all sides; blood-red lights came flying +overhead. An appalling noise broke out, reinforced by the echo from the +mountains, as though the whole world were going to perish. The Cossacks +advanced, trembling. + +Yakob advanced with them, for the captain had hit him across the head. +He saw stars when he received the blow, gesticulated wildly, and +staggered along the road. + +He could distinguish the road running out from the forest like a silver +thread. As they advanced, they came under a diabolically heavy rifle +fire; bullets were raining upon them from all sides. + +Here and there he heard moans already, when one of the soldiers fell +bleeding on the snow. Close to him fell the young Cossack who had given +him the muffler and breeches. He held out his hand, groaning. Yakob +wanted to stop, but the captain would not let him, but rapped him over +the head again with his knuckles. + +The soldiers lay in heaps. The rest wavered, fell back, hid in the +ditch or threw themselves down. The rifle-fire came nearer, the +outlines and faces of the advancing enemy could already be +distinguished. Another blow on the head stretched Yakob to the ground, +and he feigned death. The Cossacks retreated, the others advanced, and +he understood that they belonged to his friends. + +When he got up, he was immediately surrounded by them, taken by the +scruff of the neck and so violently shaken, that he tumbled on his +knees. Gunfire was roaring from the mountains, shadows of soldiers +flitted past him, the wounded Cossacks groaned in the snow. Young, +well-nourished looking men were bending over him. + +Looking up into their faces, he crossed his hands over his chest and +laughed joyfully. + +'Ah, those Russians, those Russians...the villains!' he croaked, 'aho, +aho, ho hurlai!' He rolled his tear-filled eyes. + +Things were happening thick and fast. From where the chimney stood +close to the water, near the manor-house, the village was burning. He +could feel the heat and soot and hear the shouting of the crowd through +the noise of the gunfire. Now he would see his wife and children again, +the friendly soldiers surely had saved them. The young Cossack was +still struggling on the ground; now he stretched himself out for his +eternal sleep. 'Ah, the villains!' Yakob repeated; the great happiness +which filled his heart rushed to his lips in incoherent babblings. 'The +villains, they have served me nicely!' + +He felt his bleeding head, crouched on his heels and got up. The fleshy +red faces were still passing close to him, breathing harder and harder. +Fear rose and fell in him like the flames of the burning village; again +everything was swallowed up in indescribable noise. + +Suddenly Yakób began to sob; he threw himself down at the soldiers' +feet and wept bitterly, as though he would weep out his soul and the +marrow of his bones. + +They lifted him up, almost unconscious, and took him along the high +road, under escort with fixed bayonets. His tears fell fast upon the +snow, and thus he came into his own village, among his own people, pale +as a corpse, with poison in his heart. + +He looked dully at the blazing wooden church-spire where it stood +enveloped in flames as though wrapped in an inflated glittering cloak. +Dully he let his eyes wander over the hedges and fences; everything +seemed unreal, as things seen across a distant wave or a downpour of +rain, out of reach and strange. + +He was standing where the field-path joined the high road. The soldiers +sat down on a heap of stones and lighted their cigarettes. + +Yakób, trembling all over, looked at his own black shadow; fugitives +arrived from the burning village and swarmed past him; the rifle fire +now sounded from the direction of the mountains. + +Suddenly Gregor's cottage burst into flames. A blood-red glow inflated +the clouds of smoke, trembled on the snow and ran over the pine-trees +like gold. + +Soldiers were arriving from that direction, streaming with blood, +supported by their comrades. + +Yakób stood motionless, looking at his shadow; fear was burning within +him. He looked at the sky above the awful chaos on the earth, and +became calmer. He tried to remember how it had all happened. + +They had come, had given him food. His wife and children were probably +safe in the manor-house. Blinking his swollen eyelids, he tried to +deceive himself, crouched down near the guard who was smoking, and +asked him for fire. His fear miraculously disappeared. + +He began to talk rapidly to the soldier: 'I was sitting...the wind was +moaning...' he told him circumstantially how he was sitting, what he +had been thinking, how the shots had struck his cottage. + +The soldier put his rifle between his knees, crossed his hands over his +sleeves, spat out and sighed. + +'But you have had underhand dealings with the Russians.' + +'No...no.' + +'Tell that to another.' + +'I shall,' replied Yakob calmly. + +'And who showed them the way?' + +'Who?' said Yakob. + +'Who showed them the way over here? Or did they find it on the map?' + +'Yes, on the map,' assented Yakob, as though he were quite convinced. + +'Well, who did?' said the soldier, wagging his head. + +'Who?' repeated Yakob like an echo. + +'I suppose it wasn't I?' said the soldier. + +'I?' asked Yakob. + +The other three soldiers approached inquisitively to where Yakob was +crouching. + +'A nice mess you've made,' one of them said, pointing to the wounded +who were arriving across the fields. 'Do you understand?' + +Yakob fixed his eyes on the soldiers' boots, and would not look in +that, direction. But he could not understand what it all meant...all +this noise, and the firing that ran from hill to hill. + +'Nice mess this you've made, old man.' + +'Yes.' + +'You!' + +Yakob looked up at them, and had the sensation of being deep down at +the bottom of a well instead of crouching at their feet. + +'That is a lie, a lie, a lie!' he cried, beating his chest; his hair +stood on end. The soldiers sat down in a row on the stones. They were +young, cold, tired. + +'But now they'll play the deuce with you.' + +'Why?' said Yakob softly, glancing sideways at them. + +'You're an old ass,' remarked one of them. + +'But,' he began again, 'I was sitting, looking at the snow....' + +He had a great longing to talk to them, they looked as if they would +understand, although they were so young. + +'I was sitting...give me some fire...do you come from these parts +yourselves?' They did not answer. + +He thought of his cottage, the bread and sausage, the black horse at +the cross-roads. + +'They beat me,' he sobbed, covering his face with his rags. + +The soldiers shrugged their shoulders: 'Why did you let them?' + +'O...O...O!' cried the old man. But tears would no longer wash away a +conviction which was taking possession of him, searing his soul as the +flames seared the pines. 'Why did you let them? Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?' + +No, he was not ashamed of himself for that. But that he had shown them +the way...the way they had come by...what did it all mean? All his +tears would not wash away this conviction: that he had shown them the +way...the way they had come by. + +Guns were thundering from the hills, the village was burning, the mill +was burning...a black mass of people was surrounding him. More and more +wounded came in from the fields, covered with grey mud. The flying +sparks from the mill fell at his feet. + +A detachment of soldiers was returning. + +'Get up, old man,' cried his guard; 'we're off!' Yakób jumped to his +feet, hitched up his trousers, and went off perplexed, under cover of +four bayonets that seemed to carry a piece of sky between them like a +starred canopy. + +His fear grew as he approached the village. He did not see the familiar +cottages and hedges; he felt as though he were moving onwards without a +goal. Moving onwards and yet not getting any farther. Moving onwards +and yet hoping not to get to the end of the journey. + +He sucked his pipe and paid no attention to anything; but the village +was on his conscience. + +The fear which filled his heart was nob like that which he had felt +when the Cossacks arrived, but a senseless fear, depriving him of sight +and hearing...as though there were no place for him in the world. + +'Are we going too fast?' asked the guard hearing Yakób's heavy +breathing. + +'All right, all right,' he answered cheerfully. The friendly words had +taken his fear away. + +'Take it easy,' said the soldier. 'We will go more slowly. Here's a dry +cigarette, smoke.' + +Without turning round, he offered Yakob a cigarette, which he put +behind his ear. + +They entered the village. It smelt of burning, like a gipsy camp. The +road seemed to waver in the flickering of the flames, the wind howled +in the timber. + +Yakob looked at the sky. Darkness and stars melted into one. + +He would not look at the village. He knew there were only women and +children in the cottages, the men had all gone. This thought was a +relief to him, he hardly knew why. + +Meanwhile the detachment of soldiers, instead of going to the +manor-house, had turned down a narrow road which led to the mill. They +stopped and formed fours. Every stone here was familiar to Yakob, and +yet, standing in the snow up to his knees, he was puzzled as to where +he was. If he could only sleep off this nightmare...he did not +recognize the road...the night was far advanced, and the village not +asleep as usual...if they would only let him go home! + +He would return to-morrow. + +The mill was burning out. Cinders were flying across from the +granaries; the smoke bit into the eyes of the people who were standing +about looking upwards, with their arms crossed. + +Everything showed up brilliantly in the glare; the water was dripping +from rung to rung of the silent wheel, and mixed its sound with that of +the fire. + +The adjoining buildings were fenced round with a small running fire; +smoke whirled round the tumbling roof like a shock of hair shot through +with flames. The faces of the bystanders assumed a metallic glow. + +The wails of the miller and his family could be heard through the noise +of battle, of water, and of fire. + +It was as if the crumbling walls, the melting joints, the smoke, the +cries were dripping down the wheel, transformed into blood, and were +carried down by the black waves and swallowed up in the infinite abyss +of the night. + +'They beat me....' Yakob justified himself to himself, when the tears +rose to his eyes again. No tears could wash away the conviction that it +was he who had shown them the way by which they had come. + +The first detachment was waiting for the arrival of the second. It +arrived, bringing in prisoners, Cossacks. A large number of them were +being marched along; they did not walk in order but irregularly, like +tired peasants. They were laughing, smoking cigarettes, and pushing +against each other. Among them were those who had come to his cottage; +he recognized the captain and others. + +When they saw Yakob they waved their hands cordially and called out to +him, 'Old man, old man!' + +Yakob did not reply; he shrunk into himself. Shame filled his soul. He +looked at them vacantly. His forehead was wrinkled as with a great +effort to remember something, but he could think of nothing but a huge +millwheel turning under red, smooth waves. Suddenly he remembered: it +was the young Cossack who had given him his brother's clothes. + +'The other one,' he shouted, pointing to his muffler, 'where did you +leave him?' + +Soldiers came between them and pushed the crowd away. + +There was a terrific crash in the mill; a thick red cloud rushed +upwards, dotted with sparks. Under this cloud an ever-increasing mass +of people was flocking towards the spot where Yakob was; they were +murmuring, pulling the soldiers by their cloaks. Women, children, and +old men pressed in a circle round him, gesticulating, shouting: 'It was +he...he...he!' + +Words were lost in the chaos of sounds, faces became merely a dense +mass, above which fists were flung upwards like stones. + +Yakob tripped about among the soldiers like a fawn in a cage, raised +and lowered his head, and clutched his rags; he could not shut his +quivering mouth, and from his breast came a cry like the sob of a +child. + +The crowd turned upon him with fists and nails; he hid his face in his +rags, stopped his ears with his fingers, and shook his head. + +The prisoners had been dispatched, and it was Yakob's turn to be taken +before the officer in command of the battalion. + +'Say that I...that I...' Yakob entreated his guard. + +'What are you in such a hurry for?' + +'Say that I...' + +The soldiers were sitting round a camp-fire, piling up the faggots. +Soup was boiling in a cauldron. + +'Say that I...' he begged again, standing in the thick smoke. + +At last he was taken into the school-house. + +The officer in command stood in the middle of the room with a cigarette +between his fingers. + +'I...I...' groaned Yakob, already in the door. His dishevelled hair +made him look like a sea-urchin; his face was quite disfigured with +black marks of violence; behind his bleeding left ear still stuck the +cigarette. His swollen upper lip was drawn sideways and gave him the +expression of a ghastly smile. His eyes looked out helpless, +dispirited, from his swollen lids. + +'What do you want to say?' asked the officer, without looking at him. +Something suddenly came over him. + +'It was I,' he said hoarsely. + +The soldier made his report. + +'They gave me food,' Yakob said, 'and this muffler and breeches, and +they beat me.' + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +'It was.' + +'You did show them the way?' + +He nodded. + +'Did they beat you in the cottage?' + +Yakob hesitated. 'In the cottage we were having supper.' + +'They beat you afterwards, on the way?' + +He again hesitated, and looked into the officer's eyes. They were +clear, calm eyes. The guard came a step nearer. + +The officer looked down, turned towards the window and asked more +gently: 'You had supper together in the cottage. Then you went out with +them. Did they beat you on the way?' + +He turned suddenly and looked at Yakob. The peasant stood, looked at +the grey snowflakes outside the window, and his face, partly black, +partly pallid, was wrinkled in deep folds. + +'Well, what have you got to say?' + +'It was I...' This interrogation made him alternately hot and cold. + +'You who beat them, and not they who beat you?' laughed the officer. + +'The meat is still there in the cottage, and here is what they gave +me,' he said, holding up the muffler and tobacco. + +The officer threw his cigarette away and turned on his heel. Yakob's +eyes became dull, his arm with the muffler dropped. + +The officer wrote an order. 'Take him away.' They passed the +schoolmaster and some women and soldiers in the passage. + +'Well...well...' they whispered, leaning against the wall. + +The guard made a sign with his hand. Yakob, behind him, looked dully +into the startled faces of the bystanders. + +'How frightened he looks...how they have beaten him...how frightened he +looks!' they murmured. + +He put the muffler round his neck again, for he felt cold. + +'That's him, that's him,' growled the crowd outside. + +The manor-house was reached. The light from the numerous windows fell +upon horses and gun-carriages drawn up in the yard. + +'What do you want?' cried the sentry to the crowd, pushing them back. + +He nodded towards Yakob. 'Where is he to go?' + +'That sort...' murmured the crowd. Yakob's guard delivered his order. +They stopped in the porch. The pillars threw long shadows which lost +themselves towards the fence and across the waves of the stream beyond, +in the darkness of the night. + +The heat in the waiting-room was overpowering. This was the room where +the bailiff had so often given him his pay. The office no longer +existed. Soldiers were lying asleep everywhere. + +They passed on into a brilliantly lighted room. The staff was quartered +there. The general took a few steps across the room, murmured something +and stood still in front of Yakob. + +'Ah, that is the man?' he turned and looked at Yakob with his blue eyes +that shot glances quick as lightning from under bushy grey eyebrows. + +'It was I,' ejaculated Yakob hoarsely. + +'It was you who showed them the way?' + +Yakob became calmer. He felt he would be able to make himself more +quickly understood here. 'It was.' + +'You brought them here?' + +'Yes.' + +He passed his hand over his hair and shrank into himself again. He +looked at the brilliant lights. + +'Do you know what is the punishment for that?' + +The general came a step nearer; Yakob felt overawed by the feeling of +strength and power that emanated from him. He was choking. Yes, he +understood and yet did not understand.' + +'What have you got to say for yourself!' + +'We had supper together...' he began, but stopped, for the general +frowned and eyed him coldly. Yakob looked towards the window and +listened to hear the sound of wind and waves. The general was still +looking at him, and so they stood for a moment which seemed an eternity +to Yakob, the man in the field-grey uniform who looked as if he had +been sculptured in stone, and the quailing, shrunken, shivering form, +covered with dirt and rags. Yakob felt as though a heavy weight were +resting on him. Then both silently looked down. + +'Take him back to the battalion.' + +The steely sound of the command moved something in the souls of the +soldiers, and took the enjoyment of their sleep from them. + +They returned to the school-house. The crowd, as though following a +thief caught in the act, ran by their side again. + +They found room for the old man in a shed, some one threw him a +blanket. Soldiers were sleeping in serried ranks. Their heavy breathing +mixed with the sound of wind and waves, and the cold blue light of the +moon embraced everything. + +Yakob buried himself in the straw, looked out through a hole in the +boarding and wept bitterly. + +'What are you crying for?' asked the sentry outside, and tapped his +shoulder with his gun. + +Yakob did not answer. + +'Thinking of your wife?' the soldier gossiped, walking up and down +outside the shed. 'You're old, what good is your wife to you?' The +soldier stopped and stretched his arms till the joints cracked. + +'Or your children? Never mind, they'll get on in the world without a +helpless old man like you.' + +Yakob was silent, and the soldier crouched down near him. + +'Old man, you ought...' + +'No...' tremblingly came from the inside. + +'You see,' the soldier paced up and down again, 'you are thinking of +your cottage. I can understand that. But do you think the cottage will +be any the worse off for your death?' + +The soldier's simple and dour words outside in the blue night, his talk +of Yakob's death, of his own death which might come at any moment, +slowly brought sleep to Yakob. + +In the morning he awoke with a start. The sun was shining on the snow, +the mountains glittered like glass. The trees on the slopes were +covered with millions of shining crystals; freshness floated between +heaven and earth. Yakob stepped out of the shed, greeted the sentry and +sat down on the boards, blinking his eyes. + +The air was fresh and cold, tiny atoms of hoarfrost were flying about. +Yakob felt the sun's warmth thawing his limbs, caressing him. He let +himself be absorbed into the pure, rosy morning. + +Doors creaked, and voices rang out clear and fresh. Opposite to him a +squadron of Uhlans were waiting at the farrier's, who came out, black +as a charcoal-burner, and chatted with them. They were laughing, their +eyes shone. From inside the forge the hammer rang out like a bell. +Yakob held his head in his hand and listened. At each stroke he shut +his eyes. The soldiers brought him a cup of hot coffee; he drank it and +lighted his pipe. + +The murmuring of the brook, punctuated by the hammer-strokes, +stimulated his thoughts till they became clearer, limpid as the stream. + +'It was I...it was I...' he silently confided to all the fresh voices +of the morning. + +The guard again took him away with fixed bayonets. He knew where he was +going. They would go through the village and stop at the wall of the +cemetery. + +The sky was becoming overcast, the beauty of the morning was waning. +They called at the school-house for orders. Yakob remained outside the +open window. + +'I won't...' he heard a voice. + +'Nor I...' another. + +Yakob leant against the fence, supported his temples on his fists and +watched the snow-clouds and mists. + +A feeling of immense, heavy weariness came over him, and made him limp. +He could see the ruins of the mill, the tumbled-down granaries, the +broken doors. The water trickled down the wheel; smoke and soot were +floating on the water, yet the water flowed on. + +Guilty...not guilty.... What did it all matter? + +'Do you hear?' he asked of the water. 'Do you hear?' he asked of his +wife and children and his little property. + +They took him here and they took him there. They made him wait outside +houses, and he sat down on the steps as if he had never been used to +anything else. He picked up a dry branch and gently tapped the snow +with it and waited. He waited as in a dream, going round and round the +wish that it might all be over soon. + +While he was waiting, the crowd amused themselves with shaking their +fists at him; he was thankful that his wife seemed to have gone away to +the town and did not see him. + +At last his guard went off in a bad temper. A soldier on horseback +remained with him. + +'Come on, old man,' he said, 'no one will have anything to do with it.' + +Yakob glanced at him; the soldier and his horse seemed to be towering +above the cottages, above the trees of the park with their flocks of +circling crows. He looked into the far distance. + +'It was I.' + +'You're going begging, old man.' + +Again they began their round, and behind them followed the miller's +wife and other women. His legs were giving way, as though they were +rushes. He took off his cap and gave a tired look in the direction of +his cottage. + +At last they joined a detachment which was starting off on the old +road. They went as far as Gregor's cottage, then to the cross-roads, +and in single file down the path. From time to time isolated gunshots +rang out. + +They sat down by the side of a ditch. + +'We've got to finish this business,' said the sergeant, and scratched +his head. 'No one would come forward voluntarily... I have been +ordered....' + +The soldiers looked embarrassed and drew away, looking at Yakob. + +He hid his head between his knees, and his thoughts dwelt on +everything, sky, water, mountains, fire. + +His heart was breaking; a terrible sweat stood on his brows. + +Shots rang out. + +A deep groan escaped from Yakob's breast, a groan like a winter-wind. +He sprang up, stood on the edge of the ditch, sighed with all the +strength of his old breast and fell like a branch. + +Puffs of smoke rose from the ditch and from the forests. + + + + + + + +'P.P.C.' + +(A LADY'S NARRATIVE) + + +[An incident during the early part of the World War, when the Russians, +retreating before the victorious Austro-German armies, destroyed +everything.] + +BY + +MME RYGIER-NALKOWSKA + + + + +I + + +At the time when the bridges over the Vistula still existed, connecting +by stone and iron the banks of the town now split in two, I drove to +the opposite side of the river into the country to my abandoned home, +for I thought I might still succeed in transporting to the town the +rest of the articles I had left behind, and so preserve them from a +doubtful fate. + +I was specially anxious to bring back the cases full of books that had +been early packed and duly placed in a garret. They included one part +of the library that had long ago been removed, but owing to their +considerable weight they had been passed over in the hurry of the first +removal. + +The house had been locked up and entrusted to the sure care of Martin, +an old fellow bent half to the ground, who with his wife also kept an +eye on the rest of the buildings, the garden, and the forest. + +When I arrived I found the whole of my wild, forgotten forest-world +absolutely changed and transformed into one great camp. But the empty +wood was moving like a living thing, like the menacing 'Birnam wood' +before the eyes of Macbeth. It was full of an army, with each of their +handsome big horses tied to a pine in the forest. Farther off across +the roots could be seen small grey tents stretched on logs. Most of the +exhausted blackened men were lying all over the ground and sleeping +among the quiet beasts. Along the peaceful, silky forest paths, in a +continuous line, like automobiles in the Monte Pincio park, stood small +field kitchens on wheels, gunpowder boxes, and carts. + +At the foot of the forest, on the flowery meadow, unmown this year, +were feeding pretty Ukraine cattle driven from some distant place. +Quiet little sheep, not brought up in our country, were eating grass on +a neighbouring hillock. + +Martin's bent figure was hastily coming along the road from the house, +making unintelligible signs. When he was quite close he explained in a +low discontented voice, and as if washing his hands of all +responsibility, that I had been robbed. 'I was going round,' he said, +'this very morning, as it was my duty to do. There was no one to be +seen. Now the whole forest is full of soldiers. They came, opened the +house, and stole absolutely everything. My wife came upon them as they +were going out!' + +'What? Stole everything?' I asked. + +Martin was silent a moment; at last he said: 'Well, for instance, the +samovar; absolutely everything!' + +I found the front door, in fact, wide open, and in it Martin's wife, +with gloom depicted on her face. The floors were covered with articles +dragged out of the drawers in the rooms on the upper floor. In the +garrets scores of books in the most appalling disorder were scattered +from out of parcels and boxes. Unbound volumes had been shaken, so that +single sheets and maps were found in various places or not found at +all. + +I went into the veranda. In the green of the astonished garden, now +paling in the dusk, men were sleeping here and there. There was a +specially large swarm in the part of the garden where ripe raspberries +were growing. Nearer the house, under a shady d'Amarlis pear tree, four +soldiers were lying and playing at cards. They all had attached to +their caps masks to protect them from poison-gas with two thick glasses +for the eyes, and with this second great pair of eyes on them their +heads looked like those of certain worms. In the packs of cards I +recognized without trouble some that used to lie by our fire-place. I +went up to the soldiers and pointed out that they had plundered my +house, and that I missed several things, and was anxious to find them, +especially women's dresses not of use to any one there, and that I +wanted to be assured that no one would come into the house in +future--at least till I had packed afresh the damaged books and +collected what remained. + +I could speak freely, for none of them so much as thought of +interrupting me. Then I was silent, whereupon the soldier lying nearest +raised his head--the movement put me in mind of a hydrostatic +balance--gave me a long look and said: 'What have we to do with your +books? We don't even understand your language!' Then, looking at me +amiably with his double pair of eyes, he took a bite of a half-ripe +pear as green as a cucumber. + +'Nothing to be got here: you must go to an officer,' Martin advised, as +he stood a little to the side of me. + +The officers had their quarters about a quarter of a mile away, in a +small house near the forest path. The mist passed off, and in the +darkness in the middle of the wood a number of fires shone. One could +hear a confused noise, unknown soldiers' songs, and mournful music. We +soon reached our destination. We were asked to go into the nearly empty +room, where there was a murmur of voices of soldiers; they were all +standing. At a long table, by the light of a small candle without a +candlestick, two men were writing something, and one was dipping in a +plate proofs of photographs. Some one asked if I felt any fear, and +when I hastened to reassure him entirely, he gave me a chair. Martin +stood, doubled up, at the door. + +A moment later a young officer, informed by a soldier of my arrival, +came down from above, clapped his spurs together in a salute and +inquired what I wanted. When he heard my business his brow darkened and +he became severe. 'Till now we have had no instance of such an +occurrence,' he informed me with much dignity, and his voice sounded +sincere. 'Where is the place?' he asked. 'At the end of the wood?' + +'Quite right,' I answered. + +'Ah, then, it is not our soldiers,' he said with relief; 'there is a +detachment of machine gunners there, and they have no officers at all.' + +He expressed a wish, in spite of the lateness of the hour, to examine +the damage personally with two other officers. They assured me that the +things were bound to be found, and punishment would fall on the guilty +under the severe military law. + +We all walked back through the camp by a forest track which I had known +from childhood as well as the paths of my own garden. The mist had +thickened, the fires seemed veiled as with cobwebs. Everywhere around +horses were eating hay and scraping up the ground solid with pine-tree +roots. Songs ended in silence and began again farther off. + +On the way I explained directly to the officers that my special object +was not to get back the things or to punish the thieves, and certainly +not according to 'the severe military law'. How was I to trace the +thieves? My watchman would certainly not recognize them, because he was +not familiar with shoulder straps, and would say that in that respect +all soldiers were alike. I was oniy afraid of further damage in the +house, its locks being rotten, and what I desired was that in case the +army stayed there, a guard should be appointed. + +So we reached the house. Martin conducted the gentlemen through the +rooms, and by the light of a candle showed them the condition of +things. The officers, with obvious annoyance, discovered a 'veritable +pogrom'. They could not be expected to understand what the loss +incurred by the scattering of so many books meant to me; one of them +smelt of English 'Sweet Pea' perfume, like a bouquet of flowers. Yet +they clinked their spurs together, and as they went out they again +apologized for the injury done and appointed a sentry, who went on +guard at midnight. + + + + + +II + + +Day came fall of clouds that hung right over the tops of the trees, +full of wind and cold, but dry--quite a genuine summer day. + +Round the house from early morning soldiers were moving about, +mitigating the weariness of the man on guard. Now one, now another +wanted to see how the pillaged house looked. Quite simply they walked +through the open door into the interior, finishing what remained of the +unripe apples they had picked in the garden. One stood still on the +threshold, put his hand to his cap, bowed, and duly asked, 'if the lady +would allow?' + +Then he entered, stooped, and picked up two books from the ground. 'May +I be permitted to take the liberty of asking to whom these books +belong? What is the reason for their exceedingly great number? Do they +serve a special department of study?' He made his inquiries in such a +stilted way that I was forced laboriously to keep my answers on the +same level. He owned he would be happy if I would agree that he should +help in the work, for he had not had a book in his hand for a year. He +therefore stayed in the garret and with the anxiety of a genuine +bibliomaniac collected volumes of similar size and shape, put together +scattered maps and tied up bundles. Martin looked distrustfully at this +assistant, and annoyance was depicted on the face of Martin's wife. In +front of the house one of the soldiers had brought cigarettes to the +man on guard. Another turned to him ironically: 'Well, under the +circumstances I suppose you are going to light one?' + +'You are not allowed to light a cigarette on guard?' + +'It wouldn't be allowed; but perhaps, as there is no officer to see +me....' + +The speaker was a young, fair-haired, amiable boy, assistant to an +engine driver in some small town in Siberia. He was quite ready to +relate his history. He could not wonder sufficiently how it came to +pass that he was still alive. He had run away from the trenches at S., +certain that he would die if he were not taken prisoner. The fire of +the enemy was concentrated on their entrenchment, so as to cut off all +chance of escape. Every one round him fell, and he was constantly +feeling himself to ascertain that he was not wounded. 'You see, lady, +when they turn their whole fire on one spot, you must get away; it +rains so thick that no one can stand it.' + +'Well, and didn't you fire just as thick?' + +He looked with amiable wonder. 'When we had nothing to fire?' he said +good-humouredly. + +Well, somehow it all ended happily. But, then, the others, his +companions...ah, how dashing they had been, what fellows! An admirable, +glorious army, the S. Regiment! Almost everyone was killed; it was sad +to see them. Now they had to fill up the gaps with raw recruits; but it +was no longer the old army; there will never be such fighting again.... +It will be hard to discipline them. They had fought continuously for a +year. A whole year in the war! They had been close to Drialdow, in +Lwow, even close to Cracow itself. 'Do you know Cracow, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'Well, then, just there, just five miles from Cracow. The bitter cold +of a windy day penetrated to our bones. To think that the town was only +five miles off!' + +I went away to return to the packing of my books. At the door I noticed +a woman standing, a neighbour; she was frightened and timid. + +'I suppose they have robbed you, lady?' + +'They have.' + +'And now they are at it in my place,' she said softly. 'Their cattle +have eaten up my whole meadow, and they are tearing up everything in my +kitchen-garden. I was looking this morning; not a cucumber left. +To-morrow they will begin mowing the oats; the officer gave me an +advance in money, and the rest he paid with note of hand. Is it true +that they are going to burn everything?' + +'I don't know.' + +The new watchman came up, young, black-eyed, a gloomy Siberian +villager. When he laughed, his teeth shone like claws. + +'We have stolen nothing, but we are ordered to do penance,' he said +defiantly to Martin. 'Very well, we'll do it. It was worse in the +trenches--a great deal worse! Often we were so close to the enemy that +we could see them perfectly. We used to take off our caps, raise them +in the air; they fired. If they hit, then we waved a white +handkerchief: that meant they had made a hit. Later on they would show +their caps and we fired.' + +'Are you from a distance?' Martin asked. + +'From Siberia,' he answered, and turned his head. 'We were four +brothers all serving in the army; two still write to me, the fourth is +gone. Our father is an old man, and neither ploughs nor sows. He sold a +beautiful colt for 150 roubles, for what is the use of a horse when +there is no more farming? God! what a country this is,' he continued +with pity. 'With us in Siberia a farmer with no more than ten cows is +called poor. We are rich! We have land where wheat grows like anything. +Manure we cart away and burn; we've no use for it. Ah! Siberia!' + +The woman, my neighbour, sat in silence. It was strange to her to hear +of this country as the Promised Land. When she had to go she said, +thoughtfully and nervously: 'Of course if I hadn't sold him the oats +they would have taken them. Even those two roubles on account were +better than that.' + +I went upstairs again, and by evening the work of packing the books and +things was completed. + +The soldier who loved books made elaborate remarks on them also to his +simple comrades. He spoke about the psychical aspect of fighting, the +physiology of heroic deeds, the resignation of those destined for +death, &c. He was a thoughtful man and unquestionably sensitive; but +all that he said had the stamp of oriental thought, systematically +arranged in advance and quite perfectly expressed at the moment, free +from the immediate naivete of elementary knowledge. + +'Do you belong,' I said, 'to this detachment of machine gunners?' + +'Unquestionably; I am, as you see, lady, a simple soldier.' + +'I should like to see a machine gun at close quarters. Can I?' + +I immediately perceived that I had asked something out of order. He was +confused and turned pale. + +'I have never seen a machine gun,' I continued, 'up to now; but, of +course, if there are any difficulties...' + +'It is not that,' he answered, with hesitation. 'I must tell you +honestly, lady, we haven't a single cartridge left.' + +He checked himself and was silent; at that moment he did not show the +repose of a psychologist. + +'Do you understand, lady?' + +'I do.' + +'And also we have absolutely no officers. There is nothing but what you +see there in the forest; the rest are pitiful remnants--some 200 +soldiers left out of two regiments.' + +Early next day Martin joyously informed me that in the night the +soldiers had gone away. They had burnt nothing, but it was likely that +another detachment would come in by the evening. + +'And the soldier who helped you to pack was here very early. I told him +the lady was asleep, so he only left this card.' + +_It was a visiting card with a bent edge; at the bottom was written, +in pencil and in Roman characters,_ + +'p.p.c.' + +'Yes, my friend,' I thought to myself, 'that is just the souvenir I +should have expected you to leave me after plundering me right and +left... a "P.P.C." card! And my deliverance from you means destruction +to somebody else's woods, house, and garden.' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Selected Polish Tales, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTED POLISH TALES *** + +This file should be named 8pltl10.txt or 8pltl10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8pltl11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8pltl10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. 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