“Oh, give me but a corner, and what you leave your dog! Have pity on a poor old woman! … I was waiting for my children to ask me; I waited in vain, starved with cold in my hut. … O Lord! I am now a beggar-woman; and they leave me here, forlorn, without a morsel of bread—worse off than a dog! … And their cabin is full of people and of noise. I crept thither, looked round the corner and in at the window. … It was all of no use.”
“Well, sit ye down with us. Better had it been to come when evening fell, and not expect favours from your children.—They will rejoice when they drive a last nail into your coffin, to make sure you will not come back to them.” Thus Boryna spoke, and very kindly made a place for her by his side.
But she was unable to eat anything, however heartily Yagna, the least stingy of housewives, pressed her to take some food. It was impossible; she sat drooping, bent, crouching, taciturn, her trembling body showing how much she suffered.
The place was now cosy and quiet, pervaded by an atmosphere of kindliness and of solemn piety, as if the Holy Child were lying in the midst of them.
A huge fire, continually supplied with fresh fuel, was droning up the chimney, lighting the whole apartment; against its blaze the glazed images shone dazzlingly, the panes loomed black in the night. And now they seated themselves in front of the fire, on the long bench, and talked together in hushed and serious tones.
Presently Yagna made coffee, with plenty of sugar in it, which they sipped at leisure.
After a pause, Roch took out a book, round which he had wound his rosary, and began to read to them in a low voice that was full of deep emotion:
“Lo, a new thing hath come to pass today: a Virgin hath brought forth a Son: our Lord hath in the town of Bethlehem, not least of Judah’s cities, entered this our world in poverty, within a wretched byre, on hay, amongst the cattle, which were all His brethren on this night. And that same star, which now is gleaming, gleamed upon the Child, showing the way unto the Three Wise Men: who, albeit black and heathens, yet were kind of heart, and came from far-off lands, across wide rolling seas with gifts; and thus bore witness to the Truth. …”
He continued reading a long time and his voice took the intonations of a prayer, almost of a chant or the singing of some holy litany. They listened to him in pious stillness, their souls silent and attentive, their hearts thrilling under the fascination of the miraculous, with the sincerest gratitude to God for the favours conferred upon them.
“Ah, sweet Jesus! Didst Thou then deign to be born in a stable, in that far-off country, amongst filthy Jews and cruel heretics—and in such poverty—and in such wintry frost! O poor, poor Holy One, O sweet Child!”—Such were their thoughts, and their bosoms throbbed with pity, and their souls flew away like birds, over land and sea, to the place of the Nativity, to the Manger and the Crib over which the Angels sang—and to the Sacred Feet of the Child Jesus. There they fell, with all the might of their fiery faith and trust in Him; and they surrendered themselves to Him—His faithful servants forever and ever. Amen!
As Roch went on reading, Yuzka, who was a good, kind, impressionable girl, fell to weeping copiously over our Lord’s unhappy lot. Yagna, too, wept with her face in her hands and her head hidden behind Andrew, who was listening close by, with mouth wide open, and so greatly struck by what he heard, that he repeatedly pulled Simon by his sleeve, saying: “Lo! do you hear that, Simon?”
When it was over, some remarks were dropped:
“Poor Child! not even a cradle!”
“I marvel that He did not freeze.”
“And that our Lord was willing to bear so much pain.”
“Because,” Roch answered, “it was only by His sufferings and sacrifice that He could save His people: which had He not done, Satan would assuredly have been master of the world and lord of every soul.”
“Of this and these he is pretty much master and lord as it is,” Yagustynka muttered.
“Sin is master, wickedness lord; and these are the helpers of Satan.”
“Ah, well, whosoever it may be, one thing is sure: an ill fate has power over man.”
“Speak not thus, lest ye sin: ye are blinded by wrath against your children.”
The rebuke was stern, and she did not dispute its justice. The others also were silent, and Simon rose to withdraw; but his mother, attentive to everything, noticed him.
“Wither away so fast?” she hissed.
“Out—I feel too hot in here,” he faltered, taken aback.
“Going to Nastka—to divert yourself, hey?”
“Would ye forbid, or hold me back?” he growled, but threw his cap back on to the chest where it had been.
“Return with Andrew to our hut: we have left the place to the care of Providence. See to the kine, and stay there for me; when I have rejoined you, we shall all go together to church.” These were her orders; but as the lads were slow to obey, she did not repeat them; rising at once, she took an altar-bread from the table.
“Vitek, light the lantern; we are going to the kine. In this Yuletide night, all the animals understand what men say, because our Lord was born in their midst. And whosoever shall, being without sin, speak unto them then, him will they answer with a human voice: this day they are the equals of man, and they are our fellows. And therefore we shall go and share the altar-bread with them.”
All made for the byre, Vitek leading, lantern in hand.
The cows were lying in a row, leisurely chewing the cud; but the approach of the lantern and the voices caused them to snort and scramble heavily to their feet, turning their great
