“Gracious heavens!”
“But the lower beams may hold yet,” old Bylitsa faltered; “we should only have to get new upper timbers, and clamp the woodwork together and prop it up.”
“Then do so, if ye be so clever! I do not build with touchwood!” he retorted, putting on his coat.
Here Veronka, lamenting bitterly, and holding a child in her arms, came on the scene.
“What, alas! what shall we do now?”
“A new hut,” said Staho in sore distress, “would cost about two thousand roubles.—Yet we might get some timber from our forest; and I could manage for the rest. … An application to the Government Board. …”
“But the forest is now in the hands of the law court: what timber would they give us just now? Why, we are even forbidden to gather wood there for fuel! Wait till a sentence is given, and then build!” was Matthew’s advice.
“Indeed! Very fine!—And where shall we dwell this winter, I ask?” said Veronka, with a fresh burst of tears.
No more was said. Matthew put his tools together, while Staho scratched his head, and Bylitsa blew his nose round the corner.
In that moment, Mr. Yacek stood up, and raising his voice:
“Weep not, Veronka,” he said; “the timber for your cabin shall be found!”
All stood open-mouthed, lost in amazement; till Matthew, recovering himself first, burst out with a loud guffaw.
“Clever men promise, fools believe them!—He has not where to lay his head, yet talks of giving cabins to others!” he cried roughly, staring at him under his bent brows; but Mr. Yacek sat down again, went on smoking and playing with his beard, his eyes fixed on the skyline.
“In a little, he will promise you a whole farm!” Matthew said, with a laugh and a shrug, as he left them.
He at once turned to the left along the path that led to the outhouses.
Few were at work in the gardens that day: there was but the red glint of a stray petticoat, or the sight of a man here and there mending a roof, or pottering about the granary gates, open to the fields.
Matthew was in no hurry; he loitered about willingly, chatting with the neighbours on the topic of the Voyt’s battle, grinning and talking merrily with lasses, or making such strong-flavoured jokes with the elder women in the gardens that they could not help laughing; many a one sighed and cast fond looks after him, as he passed out of sight.
And a handsome fellow indeed he was: built like an oak, and the king, as it were, of all the young men in Lipka; first in strength (after Antek Boryna); and as a dancer, not inferior to Staho Ploshka. And withal, a man of much ability in every field of work; able to construct a cart, to set up a chimney, to repair a cabin; and he played the flute beautifully too. So, though he had next to no land at all, and was so openhanded with everybody that he never put anything by, many a mother would have gladly drunk with him the price of a calf, could she but have disposed him favourably thereby towards marriage with her daughter; more than one girl, too, had allowed him much intimacy, hoping to get the banns sooner published.
All would not do. He drank with the mothers, made love to the daughters, but on the question of marriage was slippery as an eel.
“ ’Tis hard to choose.—Each one has her good points; and others are growing up, worth more than any.—I’ll wait,” he would say, when matchmakers beset him.
Then, the preceding winter, he had that entanglement with Teresa, and lived almost openly with her, disregarding both gossip and cautions.
“When Yasyek comes, I’ll give her back to him, and he’ll stand me treat into the bargain for having taken good care of her,” he once said laughingly, shortly after his return. He was tired of her, and slowly drifting apart.
And now, as he went in to dinner, he chose a longer way round, merely to joke with the girls, and have some horseplay with those who would let him.
And thus, quite unexpectedly, he came face to face with Yagna, weeding her mother’s garden.
“Ah! Yagna!” he cried out, joyfully.
She suddenly shot up to her full height, tall and graceful as a hollyhock.
“So you’ve noticed me? Oh, how very soon! Not more than a week since your homecoming!”
“Why, you look lovelier than ever before!” he said in low tones of wonder.
Her dress was tucked up to the knees; and beneath her red kerchief, knotted under her chin, those great sweet turquoise eyes of hers looked out, her white teeth gleamed between cherry lips, all her face glowed apple-red—and so fair, it seemed asking to be kissed.
She boldly set her arms akimbo, and shot such irresistibly bright glances at him as thrilled him through and through. Looking round carefully, he drew nearer.
“For a whole week I have been seeking you—in vain!”
“Tell a dog lies: it may believe you.—Ha! the man goes grinning about the gardens every evening; every evening he flatters another girl: and now he’ll dare tell me ’tis not true?”
“Why, Yagna, is this your greeting to me?”
“Better fall on my knees and thank you for remembering I exist, eh?”
“Last year I had another welcome!”
“But this is not last year!” She turned away from him and hid her face. He at once stepped forward, clasping her with eager arms.
She tore herself in anger from his grasp.
“Let me alone; Teresa would tear my eyes out because of you!”
“Yagna!” he sighed.
“Get back; make love to her, the soldier’s wife; render her every service till he come back to her.—You were in prison, and she fed you well: now must you make her some return!”
Each word of hers was like a blow, and uttered with such scorn that Matthew, taken aback, could find no answer.
Shame took hold of him; he turned a dusky red, hung his head and took to flight at once.
Though Yagna had but told him what she felt
