Yagna was in heaven. So deeply did she feel and realize all these things that they stood before her in concrete form and shape, and she was able to cut them out in paper without any difficulty. They handed her some sheets, written over by the children whom Roch was teaching; and while she listened to the legends and stories, she snipped out, now spectres, now kings, or vampires, or dragons, or any other wonderful things, so well cut that they were recognized without fail. So many did she cut out that a whole beam might have been pasted over with her handiwork; and she painted them all with raddle that Antek passed to her. So absorbed was she in her work and the legends she was listening to, that she failed to notice him, as he stood there impatient, trying to draw her attention; nor did the others, who were also deeply interested, remark the signs he made.
On a sudden, the dogs outside fell to barking furiously, and howling as if in dread, till one of Klemba’s sons went out to them. He said on his return that he had seen a peasant outside the window, who had run away.
No one either paid heed to what he had said or remarked that later, when the dogs had ceased barking, a face passed swiftly outside the window, and vanished. Only one girl saw it, and screamed out, rolling her eyes in terror.
“Someone has just gone by—there—there—in the yard!”
“Yes, I hear feet scrunching through the snow!”
“And there’s a scraping noise along the wall!”
“ ‘Talk of the wolf … it is sure to appear!’ ”
A panic came over them, and now they sat terror-struck, motionless with dread.
“Ah!” someone said in a terrified whisper, “we were speaking of the Evil One—and perhaps we have called him up—and he may even now be on the watch for one of us!”
“Jesu Maria!” they exclaimed in horror.
“Just take a look outside, boys, will you? ’Tis but the dogs playing about in the snow.”
“Oh, but I saw him too plain through the window—his head as big as a barrel, and eyes like burning coals!”
“Ye saw not well,” said Roch, and, seeing that no one cared to go into the yard, he went himself to calm them.
“I will tell you a tale about the Blessed Virgin,” he said on his return, “and all your fancies will vanish away.” He seated himself in his former place; his coolness somewhat quieted them.
“It was long, long ago, ages ago; so long ago that the tale is found only in very ancient books. In a certain village, hard by Krakow, there dwelt a free peasant, Casimir by name, and surnamed ‘the Hawk.’ His family, a good one, had dwelt there from all time, and he tilled many a thirty-five-acre piece of land. He had a forest of his own, a dwelling like a manor, and water-mill close to the river. Our Lord had blessed him, and all went well with him; his barns were always full of corn as his money-box was of money; his children were blooming, his wife was without reproach, and he himself a wise and kindly man, not proud of heart, and just towards everyone.
“He ruled like a father in the assembly, always for justice, anxious to be upright in all things, and ever the first to help and save his neighbours.
“So he lived, soberly, quietly and happily, as one having the Lord God at his fireside.
“Now one day the King sent to call the nation to war against the Paynim.
“The Hawk was sorely troubled at heart, for he had no wish to leave his home and go out to the wars.
“But then, there was the King’s messenger standing at the door, and calling him to hasten.
“It was a very great war. The Turks, a vile brood! had entered Poland, burning villages, robbing churches, slaying priests, and putting the people to death, or driving them, bound with cords, to their own country of infidels.
“To fight them was a duty. If, to defend his home and kin, men and country, a man shall willingly lay down his life, he is sure of eternal salvation.
“So he called the assembly, selected the stoutest and bravest men he could find; and on the morrow, after Holy Mass, all set out, some on horseback, others in chariots.
“The whole village went with him, with tears and great lamentations, as far as the statue of Our Lady of Chenstohova, which stands by the road, at the crossway.
“He fought for a year, for two years … but at last no news of him came any more.
“And when all the others had been back a long time, the Hawk was still far away. So they thought he must have been either slain or taken captive by the Turks; moreover, the dziads and wanderers who passed by said secretly much that made them think so.
“At length, at the end of the third year, he came back one day in early spring; but all alone, without henchmen or horses or chariots, in great poverty, and bearing a staff like a beggar.
“He knelt down before the statue of the Blessed Virgin, thanking her for his return to his own country; then he made for the village, walking with swift steps.
“But none welcomed him, none knew who he was; and the dogs attacked him, and he drove them off.
“He arrived at his home … rubbed his eyes … crossed himself … and knew not what it meant.
“Jesu
