Doors slammed; the folk, half clad, ran out, and crowded more and more numerous on the bridge by the mill, from where the conflagration could best be seen. In a few minutes the whole village was there.
The farm stood on a hillside close to the forest, a few versts away from Lipka, whence the increase of the fire was plainly visible. On the black background of the wood, the fiery tongues now multiplied, and dark-red rolling volumes of smoke burst forth. There was no wind, and the conflagration leaped straight up, higher and higher: the buildings burned like bundles of resinous firewood; and a ruddy flickering blaze swept up into the shadows of the night, with pillars of dark, towering smoke.
The air was soon rent by the sound of agonized bellowing.
“Their cattle-shed is on fire: they can save but few, for there is but one door!”
“Ah, the cornstacks are burning now!”
Others cried out, in consternation: “So are the barns!”
The priest, the smith, the Soltys, and the Voyt (though in his cups, and barely able to stand) came on the scene, crying out to the people to rush to the rescue.
No one hastened to move. A savage growl ran through the multitude:
“Let our lads be freed, and they will save the farm!”
Imprecations, threats, and even the priest’s tearful entreaties, were all of no avail. They stood gazing stolidly on the fire with sombre looks, and remained immovable.
Kobusova even shook her fist at the Manor servants she could see. “Those sons of dogs!” she shrieked.
Only the Voyt, the Soltys, and the smith drove over to the fire at last; and that without any appliances, the peasants refusing to let them take so much as a bucket with them.
“The dirty scoundrel who touches one of them shall be cudgelled to death!” they all shouted in chorus.
The whole village was there in a close-packed crowd, down to the youngest, busily soothing the cries of infants in arms. Few spoke. All looked on, greedily feasting their eyes and hearts, enjoying the thought that the Lord had punished the Squire for the wrong done them.
It burned on far into the night, but no one went home. They waited patiently till all was over, till the whole farm was one sea of fire, and the burning thatches and shingles flew up and came down in a red rain, and the vermilion reflections from the great sheets of fire waving in the dark, tinged the treetops and the mill-roof, and threw a faint glimmer on the pond, strewn as it were with dull glistening embers.
Rolling carts, men’s shouts, the din of bellowing, and fearful threats of destruction, echoed through the village: and still there the people stood like a living wall, feeding their eyes and souls with vengeance.
But there arose from outside the tavern old Ambrose’s husky drunken voice, continually singing the same unvarying song!
VI
It was a strange piece of news that Hanka heard the next morning; one that made her start up in bed. But Yagustynka luckily caught hold of her in time, and pressed her down on the pillow.
“Hold ye still! Is the cabin afire?”
“But he says such things!—He must be mad!”
“Nay,” Bylitsa replied, stooping to sneeze after an abundant pinch of snuff; “nay, I am in my right mind, and what I say I know. Since yesterday, Mr. Yacek is my lodger!”
“Hear ye? He has quite lost his wits! … Pray look whether they are not coming home yet: it must be starved, my newborn!”
The old woman went on tidying and sanding the room.
Hanka’s father sneezed so violently that he was thrown back on to a bench.
“Ye’re loud as the trumpet that tells the time in the marketplace.”
“Ah, because it is strong snuff: Mr. Yacek gave me a whole packet!”
It was early. The sun, bright and warm, looked into the cabin; the orchard trees waved; through the half-open door appeared the straight necks of geese, with coral beaks at the end; and a whole family of muddied and noisy goslings tried to scramble over the high threshold. Thereupon a dog growled: the geese screamed, and brooding hens in the passage cackled in alarm, and began to flutter out of their nests.
“Please drive them to the orchard; they will have grass to pluck, at any rate.”
“I will, Hanka, I will, and see that no hawk come nigh them.”
“What are the farm-lads about?” she asked, after some time.
“Oh, Pete is ploughing the potato-fields close to the hillock, and Vitek harrowing our field of flax.”
“Is that land still wet!”
“It is: clogs stick fast; but it will dry speedily, when harrowed.”
“I may perchance leave my bed, ere the land can be sown.”
“Oh, have a care for yourself just now. Do not fear lest anyone steal your work!”
“Have the kine been milked?”
“By me! Yagna had set the pails outside the byre, and gone away.”
“She runs about Lipka continually, like a dog: a useless woman on whom there is no counting.—Tell Kobusova I will let her have the cabbage-patches. Pete will take her manure, and plough it in; but she must work four days a week for every field. Half to be done when we plant the potatoes, and the other half in harvest-time.”
“Kozlova would gladly take the flax-fields on the same terms.”
“She would not do: too lazy.—Let her seek elsewhere: last year she wagged her tongue against Father all through the village, saying he had treated her unfairly.”
“Please yourself: yours is the land, do as ye will with it.—Ah! Filipka came for potatoes yesterday, while you were lying in.”
“To be paid for in cash?”
“No, in work. In that hut there is no money: they are starving.”
“Let her have a bushel now. If she wants more, she must wait till we have done planting them. I cannot say how much we shall have to spare. Yuzka will go and measure out a bushel for her.—Though Filipka is but a poor worker.”
“Whence should she get the strength? Too little food, too little sleep, and every year a baby!”
“Hard times!
