“ ’Tis good advice that Matthew is giving you.”
“What! is Yankel against the Germans now? Can this thing be?” they cried in amazement.
“Because I prefer to hold with those of my own land. We live here—wretchedly, but by God’s help we live. … But when the Germans have come, then not only a poor Jew, but even a dog, will have no food to eat. … Oh, may they all drop down dead! May the pestilence sweep them away!”
“What, a Jew to side with our folk! Who ever heard of such a thing!” They were astounded, stupefied.
“Yea, I am a Jew, but not a wild man of the woods: born here as you were, as my father and grandfather were too! … Am I not, then, one of you? … What is better for you will be better for me: the bigger farmers you will be, the more business I shall do with you.—And this wise plan of yours against the Germans I am ready to back thus, offering a whole bottle of rum! … To your healths, O farmers of Podlesie!” he exclaimed, drinking to Gregory.
They then drank very copiously, and became so joyful that they scarcely refrained from kissing the Jew’s long beard: they set him in their midst, and went over the whole matter again, consulting him on every point. Even Gregory began after a time to feel less gloomy.
But now the meeting came to an end, for Matthew sprang to his feet. “To the big room, boys! let’s stretch our legs!” he cried. “We’ve done enough for today.” And they went in together.
Matthew immediately took Teresa out of another man’s arms into his own. Following his example, the others brought the girls out of the corners, called to the musicians and began to dance.
These suddenly set to playing up with great liveliness, being well aware how quick Matthew was both with kopeks and with blows.
In the tavern they were now at last dancing in earnest, with hot and steaming brows; and the din, and the stamping and music and boisterous cries, poured out of doors, as out of a boiling pot, by every aperture; and those outside, too, were enjoying themselves well, clinking glasses, drinking one another’s health, and chatting ever louder and more excitedly.
It was night; the stars’ rays shone keen and vivid, the trees rustled and murmured; from the marshes came the frogs’ hoarse glee, and now and then a beetle passed by with a buzz. Nightingales sang in the orchards, and all was warm and fragrant. The people, too, longed to enjoy the cool night air, and now and again a couple, arms round waists, would leave the tavern to vanish into the shadows; while outside the conversation became so loud, everyone besides speaking quick and all together, that they were nearly unintelligible.
“… And hardly had I let the hog go, ere it had even time to put its snout among her potatoes, behold! she was upon me, bellowing!”
“… Drive her out of the village! Away with her!”
“… I remember that they did the same to one such in my young days. She was scourged even to blood in front of the church, and then driven outside our boundary marks; and we had peace.”
“… Jew, a whole measure, and quickly!”
“… We must elect a new one: so say all.”
“… Weed the evil out, ere its roots strike too deep!”
“… Now drink you to me, and I’ll tell you what!”
“… Take the bull by the horns, nor loose it till ’tis down!”
“… Two acres and one are three: three and one are four!”
“… Drink, brother, dear as if you were my own!”
Thus scraps of sentences spurted out of the darkness, it being doubtful who spoke and who was spoken to: except when Ambrose, much the worse for liquor, was heard to pass from group to group, with his everlasting and whining request for a dram, though he staggered so heavily that he could hardly walk.
“You, Voytek, I baptized; I rang your wedding-bell until my arms were stiff: O brother, but one glass!—Or will you stand me a full dram? I’ll ring her ‘Everlasting Rest’ and bring a second wife to you—a young one, firm of flesh as any turnip is!—Brother, a full dram, pray!”
And the young people danced on unweariedly; and the whole room was full of the rustling of waving skirts and capotes. Songs too were sung to the tunes of the music; the revels grew so wildly uproarious that even old women joined in leaping and capering with shrill screams; while Yagustynka, pushing forward to the middle, set her arms akimbo, and stamped on the floor to the lilt of the doggerel stave:
“I’d never fear wolves, were they more
Than a score;
Nor foes, were I fighting with men
Ten times ten!”
X
The days between Corpus Christi and the next Sunday passed slowly for Matthew, Gregory, and their friends. Matthew had to suspend his work on Staho’s cabin, and the others too gave up their occupations, all their days and evenings being devoted to stirring up the people against the German settlers, and urging upon them the necessity of driving the latter out of Podlesie.
On his side, the tavern-keeper was lavish of persuasions and—with opponents—of free drinks, and even loans. Nevertheless, it was very uphill work. The elders would scratch their heads and heave a deep sigh, but go no farther without consulting their women, who unanimously condemned any such enterprise against the Germans.
“What folly is this?” they cried. “Have we not suffered enough on account of the forest? One affliction is not yet past, and they would bring down another upon us?” And the wife of the Soltys, usually a quiet woman, was near taking a besom to Gregory!
“If you’d egg us on to another rising, I’ll give you up to the gendarmes! The lazy rogues!—they won’t work, and only want to lounge about!” she bawled at him outside her hut.
Balcerkova, too, stormed at Matthew as fiercely:
“Ye pack of idlers! I’ll
