Back strangely cross from walking, or the rather,
As Thaddeus imagined, from his ambush.
Hearing, he raised his forehead boldly, frowned,
And looked well-nigh with scorn upon her;
He drew as near Sophia as well he might, then
And poured out wine for her, and brought her plates,
A thousand courtesies performing, bowed
And smiled; but sometimes turned away his eyes,
And sighed full deeply. But in spite of such
Deceit adroitly played, ’twas evident
That all these coquetries were merely played
From spite to Telimena; for round turning,
As though unwittingly, he gazed on her
With dreadful glance. She could not understand
What this should signify; her shoulders shrugging,
She thought unto herself, he must be mad.
Then of the Count’s new wooing pretty glad
She turned towards her other neighbour. Thaddeus,
In deep gloom likewise buried, nothing ate
Nor drank, he seemed to listen to discourse,
And kept his eyes close fixed upon his plate.
As Telimena poured out wine for him,
He angry grew at her officiousness;
He took it ill—one day had changed him so—
That Telimena was so quick to woo.
It shocked him that her dress was cut so low,
It seemed immodest; when he raised his eyes,
As fearing so to do, far sharper now
They were, for scarcely on her rosy cheeks
They rested, when he quick became aware
Of a most terrible and frightful secret;
Good heavens! she wore rouge! It might have been
The rouge was of a bad sort, or rubbed off
The face by accident; it here and there
Was thinner, and revealed the coarser skin
Below; may be that Thaddeus himself,
In Meditation’s Sanctuary, too close
Conversing with her, from the white had brushed
The carmine, lighter even than the dust
From wings of butterflies, and Telimena,
Returning in a hurry from the wood,
Had found no time her colours to repair.
Around her lips especially were freckles.
The eyes of Thaddeus now, like cunning spies,
Discovering one treason, all around
Began a visitation with the rest
Of all her beauties, and in every part
To track some falsehood out; two teeth were gone
From out her mouth, and on her brow appeared
Some wrinkles, on her temples, and a thousand
Of wrinkles lurked concealed beneath her chin.
Alas! now Thaddeus felt how needless ’tis
To scan a lovely thing too closely, and
How shameful to be spy upon his love,
How wicked even to change one’s taste and heart!
But who may rule their hearts? He tried in vain
The loss of love by conscience to supply,
And with the light-rays of her glance again
To warm his spirit’s chillness. For that glance
Now like a moonbeam bright, but void of heat,
Played o’er the surface of his spirit, frozen
Down to the very depths. Lamenting and
Himself reproaching, he bowed down his head,
Was still, and bit his lips. Meantime an evil
Spirit allured him with temptation new,
And made him list to what Sophia said
Unto the Count. The damsel, vastly glad
At the Count’s courtesy, first blushed, and drooped
Her eyes; the Count, ’twas seen, was praising her
By flattery most delicate, and then
They both began to laugh; at length they talked
Of some unlooked-for meeting in a garden,
Some trampling over garden-beds and burdocks,
Which Thaddeus, listening to the utmost, heard.
The bitter words he swallowed, in his soul
Digested them; he had a dreadful banquet.
As when a viper in a garden drains
With double tongue herbs venomous, then twists
Himself up in a coil, and on the path
Lies, threatening the unwary foot that treads
Upon him unforeseen, so Thaddeus,
With envy’s poison drunken, outwardly
Appeared indifferent, with spite yet bursting.
Let but a few in merriest company
Be angry, all at once their gloominess
Is shed upon the rest. The hunters long
Had silent been; and on the other side
There too was silence at the table; they
Were all infected by contagion
Of that ill-humour shown by Thaddeus.
And even the Chamberlain, in this deep gloom
So unaccustomed, had no will to talk,
On seeing how his daughters, pretty girls,
And dowered well, and in the flower of youth,
Were silent, by the silent youths neglected.
The hospitable Judge was like concerned.
The Wojski, noting general silence round,
Said this was not a Polish supper, but
A wolfish one. Hreczecha did possess
An ear to silence very sensitive;
Himself was a great talker, and he loved
All chattering greatly. ’Twas no wonder; he
Had spent his life in banquets, expeditions,
And hunts, and diets. He was used to hear
Each moment something drumming in his ear,
When he kept silence even, or was stealing
With fly-scare to smite down a fly, or when
He sat him down to dream with closed eyes.
By day he sought for conversation; even
By night he must be counting o’er his beads,
Or telling fables. Therefore was he aye
A deadly enemy unto the pipe,
Invented by the Germans to convert us
To foreigners; he always used to say,
“Make Poland dumb, ’tis making Poland German.”150
The old man, having passed an age in noise,
In noise desired to rest. And silence woke him
From slumber. Millers thus are lulled to sleep
By rattle of their mill-wheels; scarcely stand
The axles still, than they awake exclaiming
In anguish, “And the Word became”—151
The Wojski Unto the Chamberlain signed with a bow,
And with light movement beckoning from his lips,
Towards the Judge, entreated to be heard.
At once both gentlemen at this mute sign
Did bow, as saying, We entreat you; so
The Wojski in this wise began to speak:
“I venture to entreat the young men here,
To entertain themselves at supper in
The ancient fashion, not keep still and chew.
Are we then Capuchins? Who ever keeps
’Mid nobles silence, does the same as does
The sportsman who allows a charge to rust
Within his gun. I for this reason praise
Our forefathers’ loquacity; they went
To table after hunting, not alone
To eat, but talk out mutually those things
Which each had nearest to his own heart; praise
And censure, marksmen, beaters, mastiffs, shots,
Were called upon the place; a shout arose,
Sweet as another hunt to sportsmen’s ears.
I know, I know what ails ye! All this cloud
Of sable cares152 has risen from Robak’s hood.
You are ashamed of missing. Let not shame
Consume you; I have better hunters known
Than you are, and they missed. To hit and miss,
And still improve, that is the hunter’s course.
Myself, although from childhood I have borne
A gun, have sometimes missed. That famous hunter
Tuloszczyk sometimes missed. The late Pan Rejtan
Did not invariably
