Somewhat after these came the gooseherds, driving their snowy gaggling bands, or one leading a cow, or taking out a hobbled horse to feed in the fallows.
All these, however, had soon passed out, and the rest of the villagers were making ready to go to the fair; this was about a week after the men’s return from prison. Everything in Lipka had little by little returned more or less to its usual state.
Not that all was yet as it should be. They were still rather indolent, often lying too long abed. Some paid too frequent visits to the tavern—to be abreast of the news, they said; and not a few would squander half a day going about and gossiping: others would scamp their most pressing work. To get into gear again, when once out, was no easy matter, after such a spell of forced inactivity. But things were improving daily: the tavern had fewer and fewer guests on workdays, for want had caught men by the throats, and was forcing them to labour in the sweat of their brows.
All the same, as that day there was a fair in Tymov, they preferred to go there and put the work off.
Besides, the days of dearth before harvest-time had begun early and with such severity that a bitter cry now arose in most huts. Whatever, then, they still had to sell, they took in all haste to the fair. And others also went, but only to chat with their neighbours and have a look round, and perhaps drink a nip of vodka.
Everyone had his own troubles; and where should people find comfort, or pour out their complaints, or seek words of good advice, unless either at the fair, or at the local festival?
So, no sooner had the cattle been all driven out to graze, those that had carts got them ready, and those that had none started off on foot.
The poorest were first on the road. Filipka, to her sorrow, drove six old geese before her; she had to sacrifice them. Her husband had fallen sick on returning, and she had nothing to put in the pot.
Some komorniki, too, were taking heifers that were but recently with calf. Misery has long legs and sharp claws; and Gregory the Wrymouth had to sell a milch-cow, though he possessed eight acres; while his neighbour Joseph Vahnik was driving a sow with all her farrow.
They had to keep things going as best they could. More than one was so hard up that he was forced to sell his best horse. For instance, Gulbas. He owed Balcerkova fifteen roubles; she had brought an action and obtained a sentence against him. So, amid the tears of his family, the poor wretch went off astride of his chestnut mare to sell it.
Wagon after wagon rolled on close together. Well-to-do farmers were also taking some of their possessions there: they had to pay their taxes, as the Voyt reminded them. Many goodwives likewise were carrying things to the fair: hens clucked under their aprons in carts; and those on foot had eggs or butter in their kerchiefs. Some bore on their shoulders articles of holiday attire, or pieces of linen for sale.
Mass had been said earlier than usual, and more hastily too; and Teresa the soldier’s wife, who had to speak with the priest, came just as he was leaving church for his breakfast. She durst not accost him then, and stood waiting outside the garden palings for him to come out; but before she could reach him, he had got into the britzka and driven away to Tymov.
She sighed, looking sorrowfully after him, as he went up the poplar road, whence a cloud of dust continually arose, to settle down in the fields around: the carts clattered on as before, and a thin line of red petticoats, in Indian file by the roadside, twinkled now and again among the trees. Presently Lipka relapsed into silence. The mill, the smithy, were closed; shortly the roads were also deserted, and all that remained at home were busy at work in the gardens, or pottering about the enclosures.
Teresa went home in sore trouble.
She lived beyond the church, close to Matthew, in a bit of a hut consisting of one large room and the half of a passage! At the division of the property, her brother had halved the cabin, and carried his share away to rebuild it on his own land. The sawn timbers of the roof and walls stood out like gaunt ribs against the soot-begrimed chimney.
Nastka saw her from her threshold, there being but a narrow strip of orchard between them.
“Well? well? has he read your letter?” she cried, running to her.
Teresa explained her disappointment.
“I fancy the organist is able to read writing. He could make it out.”
“Certainly; but how can I go empty-handed?”
“Take him a few eggs.”
“Here I have ducks’ eggs only; Mother has taken the others to sell.”
“No matter; he won’t refuse ducks’ eggs.”
“I would fain go; but I fear
