Dazed, she again and again repeated the words: “Antek is coming back—coming back!”
“Not a word about it! When he comes, why, folk will know of it anyway. Ah! and we must let it be supposed that he was set free unconditionally, or the smith would want to know where the money came from.”
All this he told her in a low voice, and she promised to obey, excepting Yuzka, however, whom she had to tell, and trust with the joyful secret; Hanka could hardly have borne alone such an awful weight of gladness. She went to and fro like one flushed with strong drink, kissed all the children twenty times over, talked to the colt, talked to the pig, and frisked with the stork; and as Lapa followed her about, looking wistfully into her eyes as if he understood something of the matter, she said in his ear:
“Tell no one, silly one! The goodman is coming home!”
Then she laughed and cried by turns, and spoke to Matthias, telling him all about it, till he rolled his eyes as if in fear, and made an indistinct murmur. And she so forgot the whole world that Yuzka had to remind her she must get ready for church.
She was so happy that she even wanted Yagna to come with them; but Yagna refused.
Her no one had told the news, but she easily guessed at it, from words dropped here and there, and from Hanka’s extraordinary gaiety. The news elated her likewise, and touched her with a sort of silent hope; and, heedless of meeting people, she ran over to her mother.
She dropped in just when a terrific quarrel was at its height.
Directly after breakfast, Simon had sat down by the window, smoking a cigarette, and spitting about the room, while he considered and reflected for a long time, casting many a look at his brother. At last he said:
“Now, Mother, give me some money, for I have to put up the banns. The priest told me to come after Vespers for the examination in Religion.”
“And whom would you wed?” she asked, with a bitter sneer.
“Nastka Golab.”
She said no more, but busied herself about the pots on the fireplace. Andrew put some more wood on, and though the fire drew very well, he blew upon it out of sheer trepidation. Simon paused for a reply, and, getting none, spoke once more: this time in a more decided tone.
“I shall need a five-rouble note, for there is to be the betrothal ceremony besides.”
“Oh!—And have ye sent her the proposers yet?”
“Klemba and Ploshka went to her.”
“And the answer was Aye, no doubt?” Her chin wagged with chuckling.
“Most surely.”
“She’s the ‘blind hen that happened on a grain,’ hey?—The idea of a Nay from her, the beggarly thing!”
Simon knitted his brows, but waited to hear her say more.
“You, fetch me water from the pond; and you, Andrew, let the pig out: it is squealing.”
They both obeyed mechanically. But when Simon returned to his place, and his younger brother was again pottering about the fireplace, the old dame commanded sternly:
“Simon, give the heifer to drink!”
“Do that yourself: I am not your maidservant!” he returned boldly, sprawling on the settle.
“Have you heard?—Drive me not to punish you on the Lord’s Day!”
“Have ye heard me asking for money?”
Then she exploded: “Neither money nor leave to marry will I give!”
“Leave I can do without!”
“Simon, keep your temper. Make me not angry!”
On a sudden he bent down before her, humbly clasping her feet.
“See, Mother, I beg, I implore you; I am crouching at your feet like a dog!”
His voice was choked with sobs.
Andrew too fell prostrate at her feet, and kissed her hands, beseeching her and moaning pitifully.
She repulsed them both with fury, shaking her fist.
“Dare but to oppose my will,” she cried out, “and I’ll sweep you to the four winds of heaven!”
But Simon’s hesitation was over now. Her words had roused him, and his blood boiled. The inborn stubbornness of the Pacheses had laid hold on him: he stood up erect, and, striding forward:
“Give me the money!” he roared. “I shall wait no longer, nor beg for it any more!”
“Never!” she cried stormily, and looked about her for some weapon of offence.
“Then will I seek it!”
With a wildcat’s leap, he bounded to the great chest, wrenched the lid open, and began to empty the clothing it contained on to the floor. She shrieked and darted at him, at first endeavouring to force him back; but she could not move him an inch. Then she caught hold of his thick fell of hair with one hand, battering his face with the other, while kicking his body and screaming all the time. He shook her off, and went on searching for the money; but, having received a terrible kick in the groin, pushed her away with such strength that she fell down flat upon the floor. She was up again, however, in an instant, and, seizing the poker, rushed at him. Unwilling to fight with his mother, he only tried to defend himself, attempting to wrest the poker from her hand. The din made the room ring again; and Andrew, in floods of tears, was hovering round them, weeping aloud and crying out:
“O Mother! for God’s sake! O Mother!”
Yagna, coming in then, ran forward to stop the struggle. In vain. Dominikova stuck to him like a leech, and battered him with insane fury, though he tried to give way and leap aside: she assailed him all the more fiercely, raining down blows on him, till, maddened by pain, he struck back again.
So they flew at each other like quarrelling dogs, staggering backward and forward about the room, and hitting the walls and furniture with extreme violence.
The neighbours were now coming in, and striving to force them apart, but to no purpose. The fight went on, the mother belabouring the son, the son seeking to keep the mother at bay. But, at last losing patience, he put forth all his strength, grappled
