There were. Here trays were carried round about,
With the whole coffee service; large-sized trays,
With flowers beautifully painted. On them
Steaming with an aroma most delicious,
White metal coffee-pots, and porcelain cups,
From Dresden; near each cup a tiny vessel
Containing cream. Such coffee as in Poland
Is in no other country. For in Poland,
In a well-ordered house, by ancient custom,
There is a woman, whose especial labour
Is to make coffee, called the kawiarka.81
She brings from town, or from the barges chooses82
The finest coffee-beans, and secrets knows
How to prepare a drink, which has the blackness
Of coal, transparency of amber, odour
Of Mocha, and is thick as honey flows.
Well know we what to coffee is good cream;
This is not in the country hard to get.
The kawiarka, having early placed
The coffee-pots, the dairy visiteth,
And culls herself the light, fresh flower of cream,
For each cup in a vessel separate,
So each be clad in separate pellicle.
The elder ladies, having earlier risen,
Had drunk their coffee. Now they made a second
Dish for themselves, of warm beer, white with cream,
In which there floated many clots of curd.
But for the men there lay smoked meats at choice,
Fat breasts of geese, and ham, and wings of tongue,
All excellent, all by home method dried
In chimneys, by the smoke of juniper.
At length was brought the latest course of zrazy,83
Such were the breakfasts in the Judge’s house.
In the two rooms gathered two different groups;
The elder folks, around a little table,
Spoke of new farming methods, and of new
And aye more strict Imperial ukases.
The Chamberlain opinions gave of rumours
Of war impending, and deduced therefrom
Views upon politics. The Wojski’s daughter,
Wearing dark spectacles, with fortune-telling
From cards amused the Chamberlain’s lady, while
In the other room the youths discussed the hunt,
In tones more low and peaceful than was wont,
For the Assessor and the Regent, both
Great talkers, first in hunting, and best shots,
Sat opposite each other cross and angry.
Both well had pricked their dogs on; each was sure
His greyhound must be winner; when right in
The middle of the plain they found a row
Of peasant’s vegetables still unreaped.
Therein the hare rushed. Kusy now had hold,
Now Sokol, when the Judge the prickers stayed
Upon the ridge. They must obey, although
Their rage was great. The dogs returned alone,
And none might know if fled the game or ta’en,
No one could guess if into Kusy’s jaws
It fell, or Sokol’s, or in both at once.
Each side gave different judgment, and the quarrel
Remained to other times still undecided.
The ancient Wojski walked from room to room,
On both sides glancing with his absent eyes,
He neither mingled in the hunters’ talk,
Nor in the old men’s, and ’twas plainly seen
His head was taken up with something else.
He bore a leathern fly-scare,84 sometimes standing
Still in one spot, he meditated long,
And—killed a fly that sat upon the wall.
Thaddeus and Telimena, standing in
The doorway right between the two rooms, talked
Alone to one another; no great space
Divided them from hearers, so they whispered.
Now Thaddeus learnt that his aunt Telimena
Was a rich lady, that they were not joined
By bonds canonical in too close kinship.
’Tis even uncertain if aunt Telimena
Be really aunt unto her nephew, though
His uncle call her sister, since their common
Progenitors once called them so, in spite
Of years’ disparity. That later on,
She, living in the capital, had rendered
Some service beyond measure to the Judge,
Whence much the Judge respected her, and loved
Before the world, perhaps from vanity,
To call himself her brother. Telimena
From friendship would refuse him not this name.
Relieved at heart was Thaddeus by these sayings,
And many things besides did they declare
To one another. All this came to pass
In one short moment. In the right-hand room,
The Regent careless said, to tempt the Assessor;
“I said so yesterday; our hunt could not
Be a success; it is too early yet.
The corn is standing yet upon its stalk,
And many rows unreaped of peasants’ gardens,
And therefore stayed the Count away to-day.
The Count in hunting is experienced,
Sometimes has talked of hunting, place, and time;
The Count from childhood has in foreign lands
Been living, and he says it is a sign
Of barbarism to hunt, as we do here,
Without regard to articles of law,
Or regulations of the government,
Respecting no one’s hillocks or his ridges,
To ride o’er stranger’s ground without his knowledge,
To course the plains and hunting forests in
The spring-time as in summer, or to kill
A fox when he his coat is shedding, or
To let the greyhounds worry hares with young,
Or rather torture them. The Count regrets,
That in this case the Muscovites to-day
Are far more civilised than we; for there
The Czar has put forth ukases on hunting,
There is police inspection, and for those
Who do transgress them there is punishment.”
Towards the left room Telimena looked,
Fanning herself with cambric handkerchief:
“As I my mother love, the Count mistakes not;
I well know Russia. You would not believe me,
When I have often said how praiseworthy,
For many reasons, is the vigilance
And strictness of their government. I was
In Petersburg, not only once, nor twice.
Sweet memories! sweet image of the past!
And what a town! None of you, gentlemen,
Have ever been in Petersburg? Perhaps
You’d like to see the plan? I have the plan
In my bureau. In summer all the world
Of Petersburg is used to live in ‘datshies’—
That is, in country palaces, for ‘datsha’85
Means village. In a little palace I
Dwelt, on the river Neva, not too far,
And not too near the town, on a low hill
Raised artificially. Ah! what a house
It was! I have the plan in my bureau.
One day, to my misfortune, was a house,
In my close neighbourhood, hired by some petty
Czynownik86 who was sitting on commission.
He kept a many greyhounds. What a torment
To have a small czynownik and a kennel
To dwell near one! As often as I went
Into the garden with a book, to enjoy
The moonlight, and the evening cool, at once
A dog flew in, and wagged his tail, and pricked
His ears up, just as he were mad. Not seldom
Had I been terrified. My heart forebode
Some evil from the dogs, and so it chanced;
For as I walked one morning
