Nevertheless, she was in great dread, and had carefully sought to be informed what Antek’s punishment might be: she had no hope that he would be acquitted.
True, he had acted in defence of his father; but there must be some punishment for the death of the forester. There must!
Such was the opinion of all the more intelligent folk. She had been to consult a lawyer in the town, with a letter from his Reverence to introduce her. He had explained that the penalty might be either very heavy or very light; that patience and money spent without grudging were absolutely requisite here. But she was most terrified by the village people, who shared the blacksmith’s view of things.
The words he had now spoken had therefore oppressed her most cruelly. She went on with her work, but felt almost unable to stand; and conversation was impossible. Moreover, when the smith had gone away, his wife came to tend the sick man, drive away the flies (there were none!), and certainly spy over all she did.
Magda, however, was soon tired of the task, and offered to help her in the work. But Hanka replied:
“Do not trouble, we can do all by ourselves: have you not work enough in your house?”
Her tone was so decided that Magda gave up the attempt, and only tried at times to join timidly in the talk, being by nature a shy and reticent woman.
But that same evening, who should make her appearance once more but Yagna, in her mother’s company!
They greeted her as if on excellent terms, and in so friendly and flattering a way that Hanka, touched by their kindness, answered them in like manner, sparing neither pleasant speeches nor vodka, though she kept on the watch nevertheless. But Dominikova put the glass away from her.
“What! in the Holy Week? How could I drink vodka at such a time?”
Hanka maintained that it was no sin to drink even then, on such an occasion and in one’s own house.
“Ah!” groaned Dominikova, “one is always but too ready to find an excuse to let oneself go, and enjoy pleasure!”
“Mistress, drink to me,” Ambrose exclaimed; “I have not an organist’s scruples.”
“To you the very sound of glasses when they clink is a temptation,” Dominikova grumbled, as she set to work at the sick man’s bandages.
“Poor creature!” she cried in pity; “lying there insensible, with all God’s world lost to him!”
“And not to taste sausage or vodka again forever!” Yagustynka chimed in, turning the pity into a gibe.
Dominikova rebuked her tartly: “You laugh at everything, you!”
“Shall weeping lessen my pain? My laughter is all my fortune.”
Ambrose remarked: “Let those only that have sown evil garner in sorrow, and atone for it by penance!” This was a shrewd hit at Dominikova, who retorted, glaring on him sternly:
“They say truly that Ambrose, though he serves in church, curries favour with sin in order to enjoy the good things of this life!” And she added, lowering her tone threateningly: “But he alone will turn away from the good and befriend the wicked, who considereth not the punishment which he shall receive hereafter!”
Silence fell upon all. Ambrose worked on, though surly. He had a sharp retort ready, but kept it back, knowing well that anything he said would be reported to his Reverence the next day, and after Mass at latest: it was to some purpose that the old dame was such a churchgoer. Everyone, besides, shrank from the fixed gaze of those owlish eyes of hers; even Yagustynka, the defiant, was overawed and quailed before her.
Yes, and so did all the village. More than one had experienced the power of those evil eyes; more than one, on whom she had laid a spell, now groaned with twisted limbs, or in the clutch of some dire disease!
They worked on then, with bowed heads: only her face, rugged, withered, and white as bleached wax, was seen towering amongst them in the room. She too remained silent, along with Yagna; but they were both so active and diligent that Hanka had not the heart to refuse the aid they were giving.
But after Ambrose had left, called away to church by the priest’s servant, they remained alone, diligently packing flitches and pork into the tubs and barrels.
“The meat will be cooler in the larder that’s on this side, for the fire here is much smaller,” the old dame decided, rolling the vessels in there at once, with the help of Yagna.
All this was done so quickly that they were put in the larder before Hanka had time even to protest. She was extremely mortified, and, immediately calling Pete and Yuzka to her aid, carried over to her own side all that remained.
At dusk and by lamplight they set to making sausages, blood-puddings, and brawn. Hanka, whose annoyance had not passed away, sat mincing the materials with a sort of dark rage.
“Leave the things here, for her to eat or steal? Not I!— … But oh, the cunning hag!” she hissed through her clenched teeth.
“Tomorrow morning, when she has gone to church, you can carry everything out into your own larder without noise or fuss. Surely she will not break in and take it back by force!” Such was the advice of Yagustynka, as she pressed the ingredients of the sausages into the long dried guts, writhing upon the table like serpents, and every now and then hung them up to be smoked in the chimney.
“Ah! the stroke was planned between them, and they came on purpose for that!”
She was exasperated.
“The sausages will all be made ere Ambrose be back here,” the old woman observed.
Hanka would speak no more, absorbed in work, and in planning how to get the hams and flitches into her possession again.
The fire crackled on the hearth with a lively flame; the whole room was in
