At Boryna’s, indeed, things went on as usual, though more slowly than before and not so well, since Pete had never been accustomed to that sort of work; but they went on somehow, and there were hands enough to labour.
From her bed, Hanka directed all, and with such shrewdness and energy that even Yagna was obliged to bear a hand along with the others. And Hanka took thought for everything—for the live stock—for the sick man—for the time to plough, for the seeds and where to sow them—and for the little ones, whom Bylitsa, having fallen ill, had not been able to care for since the christening. She lay alone all day long, seeing no one but her people at dinnertime and in the evening, and Dominikova who looked in once a day. None of the neighbours, not even Magda, gave sign of life, and Roch was no longer heard of: since his departure with the priest, he had not come back. She was utterly weary of lying in bed; and, in order to recover more quickly, she no longer grudged herself fat victuals, eggs, and meat. She even had a fowl killed to make broth! True, it was far too old to lay eggs: but would have brought a couple of zloty in the market, all the same.
In consequence, she got well so speedily that she was on her legs by Low Sunday, and resolved (in spite of all dissuasions) to have her “churching.” So she went to church with Ploshkova at once after High Mass.
She was still very shaky on her legs, though, and had to lean on her companion’s arm.
“It smells of spring so, my head is whirling.”
“That will pass off in a day or two.”
“Why, a month’s change has come about in a week!”
“Spring rides a swift horse; there is no overtaking it.”
“How green all round is, O Lord! how green!”
Yes: over every orchard there floated a cloud of verdure, and nothing was seen of the huts except the white tops of the chimneys. Deep in the thickets, the birds were twittering with all their might; and genial breezes came up from the fields beneath, made the weeds in the hedges wave, and the millpond ripple and eddy.
“The buds are big on the cherry-trees: soon we shall see the blossoms.”
“We shall have plenty of fruit, unless a sharp frost nips them.”
“There is an old saying: ‘When the harvest is rare, there’ll be fruit and to spare.’ ”
“I fear it looks like that for Lipka,” she sighed; and the tears dimmed her eyes as she glanced at the unsown fields.
The “churching” was soon over; for the baby roared amain, and Hanka was presently so tired that she had to lie down at once on her return. But she had not lain a breathing-space, when Vitek rushed in, crying:
“Mistress, the Tsiganes! the Tsiganes are coming!”
“Evil news, in truth! Have we not enough to plague us?—Call Pete; let him lock all the doors, lest they make off with anything.” And she went out in great alarm.
In a short time, the whole gang was all over the place: black-avised, in rags and tatters, with infants carried on their backs, these beggars, importunate beyond all measure, were running about everywhere, offering to tell fortunes, and even trying to make their way into the huts by force. There were but ten of them, but they made as much noise as a whole village.
“Yuzka! drive the geese and hens into the yard, and take the children within doors; they might be stolen!”
Down she sat in the porch to watch; and, perceiving a Tsigane woman trying to enter the enclosure, set the dog on her.
Lapa attacked her with savage pertinacity, and would not be driven off, though the hag lifted her staff at him and muttered sundry words and curses of magic might.
“Your curses, they are less than naught to me, you thief!”
“There would be no spells cast on us at all if ye let her come in,” said Yagna, who looked annoyed.
“No, but our things would be stolen! There is no safety against such a creature, even should your eyes follow her hands all the time!—and if ye want your fortune told, why, go ye after her.”
She had shrewdly guessed at the unspoken desire of Yagna, who ran out into the village, and followed the Tsiganes about all the afternoon. Unable either to free herself of a vague dread, or to overcome her curiosity to know the future, she returned to the cabin many a time, and went out again as often; and it was only when twilight fell, and the Tsiganes were going off to the forest, that she saw one of them enter the tavern, followed her in, and, in extreme terror, crossing herself again and again, had her fortune told, heedless of the bystanders.
At Boryna’s cabin in the evening, Pete told them about the Tsiganes: how they had a king, who went about covered with silver bosses, and was so perfectly obeyed that, should he even in jest command one of them to hang himself, he would do so at once!
“A king of thieves!” whispered Vitek; “a mighty man whom they set the dogs at!”
“Accursed heathens!” the old woman chimed in; and, drawing nearer, related how the Tsiganes were wont to kidnap children all about the villages.
“And, to make them black, they put them in a bath of alder-bark, so that their own mother would not know them; and then they take a brick and rub away the flesh—even to the bone—where the holy oil of baptism had been set: they simply make little fiends of them.”
“And ’tis said,” a girl’s voice piped shrilly, “that they know charms and incantations awful even to name!”
“Aye, indeed; one would have but to breathe on you, and moustache would sprout out to a cubit’s length at once!”
“We are told that a man of the parish of Slupia once set his dog on a Tsigane hag: she only waved a mirror before
