So it was. Evening approached, the sun had sunk behind the forest; its setting glow stretched along the sky in bloodred streaks, and all the snows were fiery and as if oversprinkled with live coals. The hamlet had quieted down. Folk were still fetching water from the pond, and chopping firewood; at times sledges went past like a whirlwind, men ran across the pond, gates creaked on their hinges, and voices were heard here and there; but the movement was slowing down as the fires of sunset died out: with the pallid livid hues now overspreading the plain, the quiet also spread, the land sank to rest, and the ways had fewer and fewer passersby. The far-off fields now lost in murky darkness, the winter evening reigned over the country; the cold increased, the snow crackled louder underfoot, and all the panes were embellished with frost-patterns and fantastic traceries.
Slowly the village was vanishing in grey snowy shadows, melting away; neither huts nor fences nor orchards could be made out; only a few lights twinkled, more thick than usual, because everyone was busy preparing the meal of Christmas Eve.
In every cabin, from the richest to the very poorest of all, preparations were being zealously made; in each family room, at the corner next the east, they had placed a sheaf of corn; the tables were strewn with hay beneath bleached linen napery; and they looked out eagerly through the windows for the appearance of the first star.
The sky, as is often the case when it freezes, was not very clear when evening began to fall; it had seemed to veil itself as soon as the last glow had burned out, and was hidden in the gloom of many a dusky wreath.
Yuzka and Vitek, terribly chilled, were standing outside the porch, on the watch for the appearance of the first star.
“There it is!” Vitek suddenly exclaimed. “There it is!”
Boryna and the others, and Roch last of them all, came out to see.
Yes, it was there, and just in the east, having pierced through the sombre curtains which hung round about it: it shone forth from the dark-blue depths, and seemed to grow larger as they gazed upon it; gleaming brighter and brighter, nearer and nearer, till Roch knelt down in the snow, and the others after him.
“Lo, ’tis the star of the Three Wise Men,” he said; “the Star of Bethlehem, in whose gleaming our Lord was born.—Blessed be His Holy Name!”
These words they piously repeated after him, gazing up with eager eyes at the bright far-off witness of the miraculous Birth—the visible token of God’s mercy, visiting the world.
Their hearts throbbed with tender gratitude and glowing faith, while they received and absorbed into their hearts that pure light, the sacred fire—the sacrament to fight with and to overcome all evil!
And the star, seeming to grow larger still, rose up like a ball of fire, from which beams of azure brightness shot down like the spokes of a mystic wheel, darting its rays upon the snows, and twinkling with radiant victory over darkness. Then after it there came forth other stars, its faithful attendants, peering out in innumerably dense multitudes—filling all the heavens, covering them with a dew of light, and making them, as it were, a mantle of dark azure, strewn with silver motes.
“And now that the Word is made Flesh,” said Roch, “it is time to take our meal.”
They went in, and took seats for supper at a high long bench.
Boryna occupied the first place, then Dominikova and her sons (for they had arranged to eat together); Roch sat in the middle, Pete, Vitek, and Yuzka after him, and Yagna at the very end; for she had to see about the service.
The family room was now in utter and solemn silence.
Boryna, having made the sign of the Cross, divided an altar-bread with each of those present, and all partook of it with reverence, as representing the Bread of Life.
“Christ,” then said Roch, “was born at this hour; therefore let every creature feed upon this holy bread!”
And though they had eaten all day long only a little dry bread, and were very hungry, they all ate slowly and with due decorum.
The first dish consisted of sour beetroot soup, with mushrooms and potatoes in it. After this came herrings, rolled in flour and fried in oil. Then there was a dish of cabbage and mushrooms, also seasoned with oil. And, to crown the feast, Yagna had prepared a most dainty dish—buckwheat meal, mixed with honey and fried in oil of poppy-seed! With all these dishes, they ate common dry bread: it was not becoming, on such a great fast-day, to eat either cakes or strucle, these containing butter or milk.
They ate for a considerable time, and there was but little conversation; only spoons clattered and lips were smacked. Boryna wanted to get up and help Yagna, but her mother would not have it.
“Let her be,” she said; “it will do her no harm. ’Tis the first Yuletide at which she presides; she must learn and accustom herself.”
Lapa, whimpering at times, was poking its head against thighs and knees, fawning and wagging its tail, in hope of getting sooner fed. Bociek the stork, whose place was in the passage, ever and anon pecked at the wall, or uttered its klek-klek-klek, to which the hens at roost responded.
The meal was not over yet, when someone tapped at the window.
Dominikova cried out: “Let no one in, no, nor even look that way! It is the Evil One: he will enter, and then stay here all the year round!”
The spoons dropped, and they listened in dismay, as the tapping was repeated.
“It is Kuba’s soul!” Yuzka whispered.
“Say no foolish things: someone in need is there. On this day, none should suffer hunger, or be without a roof over him.” So saying, Roch got up and opened the door.
It was Yagustynka, standing humbly on the threshold, who wept abundantly, and begged to be let
