He beat his breast many times, rose from his knees, and called out to Lapa:
“O you dainty dog you, hunting for fleas like a lass going to a wedding!”
Being an industrious fellow, he now set to work, taking the cart out of the shed and greasing the wheels, giving the horses a drink, and filling the racks with hay till they snorted with pleasure and pawed the stable floor. Then he brought from the granary some refuse of corn plentifully seasoned with good oats, which he took to the mare’s manger: for she had been given a stall apart.
“Eat, old girl, eat away; you are to have a foal, and you need strength. Eat away!” He stroked her over the nose; and the mare laid her head on his shoulder, and playfully pulled at his shock of hair with her lips.
“Till noon, we shall be bringing in potatoes, and then we shall go to get litter in the evening. Never fear; a cart of litter is no great weight; don’t worry.”
“But you! for you there’s a good flogging in store, you lazy brute!” he said to the gelding that stood close by and was pushing its head forward between the boards that separated it from the mare’s manger.
“You hireling, you Jew! Willing enough to devour good oats, you are; but to move one step, save for the whip—not you!”
He passed it by, and looked into the manger that stood next to the wall, from which the filly’s head—chestnut-coloured, with a white arrow on the forehead—had for some time been watching him; and she uttered a gentle neigh.
“Easy, little one, easy! And eat your fill; you will take master to town. …” But her flank was soiled, and he wiped it clean with a wisp of hay. Such a full-grown filly, ready for coupling … and yet so dirty! Always wallowing in the mire like a sow!
So he went on, talking continually, and passed round to the sties, to let out the pigs that were squealing for food. Lapa followed him, looking wistfully into his face.
“Want something, eh? Here you are then—a nice bit of bread for you!” He took a piece of bread from his bosom and tossed it into the air. Lapa caught it, and ran away to his kennel, for the pigs would have taken it from him.
“Ha! those swine, they are like some men: all for grabbing what’s not theirs.”
In the barn he took a long look at the quartered cow that hung from the beams.
“A beast without understanding. Gone in her turn. She will be in the pots by tomorrow. Poor thing! you end by making a Sunday dinner for us.”
With a sigh of longing for the feast in store, he went to rouse Vitek. “ ’Twill be sunrise directly. Come, drive the cows to grass.”
Vitek had no mind; he wrapped his sheepskin round him and grunted; but in the end he got up, and shambled drowsily about the yard.
The master had overslept himself; for the sun was up, making the hoarfrost a dust of rubies, and each pane and pool a mirror of fire, and no one had as yet appeared from the cabin.
Vitek sat on the cow-byre threshold, scratching himself and yawning audibly. The sparrows had come down from the roofs to the well, and were now bathing in the troughs. He took a ladder, and went to look at the swallows’ nests under the eaves; for it was very still there, and he feared they might have died of cold. Several swallows lay there, benumbed. Taking them out very gently, he placed them within his shirt-bosom.
“See, Kuba, see! they are dead!” And he showed him the bodies, stiff and stark. Kuba took them one by one, laid them to his ear, breathed on their eyes, and gave his opinion.
“They are only numb with last night’s cold. Silly things, not to have left for some warm country yet! Ah, well!” And he went about his work again.
Vitek seated himself in front of the cabin, where the sunbeams poured down upon the whitewashed walls, and flies were already crawling. He took out such swallows as the heat of his body had revived a little; he breathed on them, opened their bills, gave them to drink from his own warm lips, until at length they were restored, opened their eyes, and fluttered to get free. Then, swiftly catching a fly on the wall, he would feed it to a bird and let it go.
“Away to your mother, fly away!” he said, as the young swallows sat on the rafters of the byre, preening themselves and twittering their thanks, as it were.
Lapa, sitting on his hind quarters, looked on with keen interest, whining now and then, running a few paces after each bird to catch it as it fluttered off, and then returning to watch proceedings.
“You might as well try to catch the wind,” said Vitek, so absorbed in reviving the swallows, that he took no note of Boryna coming round the hut, until the latter stood in front of him.
“Ha! you filthy knave! Playing with birds, are you?”
The lad jumped up to run for it; but the farmer caught him fast by the coat-collar, while with his other hand he undid the broad thong of tough leather which formed his girdle.
“Oh, but don’t beat me, don’t beat me, pray!” was all the poor fellow could utter.
“What sort of a cowherd are you, hey?—That’s how you tend cattle, hey?—Lost my best cow for me, hey?—You foundling, you!—You Warsaw mooncalf!” And he laid on furiously, wherever he could get a blow home; and the thong whistled in the air, and the lad writhed like an eel and roared for mercy.
“Don’t! O Lord! He’s killing me! Master! O Jesus, mercy!”
Hanka peered out to see what the matter was; Kuba spat with disgust and withdrew into the stable.
Boryna continued flogging him with might and main, scoring his loss upon the lad’s flesh with a vengeance, while
