“Yes,” Boryna sternly put in, “the other Sunday you did not care: you pushed and thrust yourself to where the foremost were standing!”
“It is true. … Yes, but …” he stammered, greatly abashed and flushing crimson.
“And his Reverence himself teaches us that the elders ought to be respected.—Now, Kuba, drink to a good understanding between us, and hearken to what I say. You know very well that a farmhand is not a farmer. Everyone has his place, given to him by our Lord. To you also hath the Lord Jesus given yours. Keep it therefore, do not push forward, nor set yourself above other folk, for this were a grievous sin. His Reverence will tell you the very same thing. It must be so, else there would be no order in the world.—Do you follow me?”
“I am not a brute beast, and know what words mean.”
“Well, then, see to it that you do not set yourself above anyone.”
“But my only desire was to be nearer God’s altar!”
“In whatsoever nook you are, God will hear you: fear nothing. Also, why should you thrust yourself amongst the foremost, since all here know you?”
“You are right, very right. If I were a farmer, I should bear the canopy and support his Reverence, and sit on a bench, and sing aloud out of a book. But,” he concluded, with a sigh, “being only a labourer—though a husbandman’s son, mind you!—it behoves me to stand in the vestibule, or outside in the porch, like a dog.”
“So is it ordained throughout the world, and you will not change it by taking thought.”
“Without doubt I shall not.”
“Take another drop, Kuba, and say what increase of wages you would have.”
Kuba took the vodka. Now, as he was already somewhat flustered, he presently felt as in the tavern, with Michael (from the organist’s) or any other boon companion at his side, whom he could talk with freely and joyously, as an equal. So he undid a button or two of his capote, stretched out his legs, struck the bench with his fist, and cried out:
“Four paper roubles more, with a silver one besides, and I’ll stay with you!”
“You’re drunk or mad, I fancy,” was Boryna’s protest; but Kuba, now fairly started in pursuit of what he wished and dreamed for, never heard his master’s words. His imagination was no longer under control, his mind began to take wings, his self-assurance to grow great, and he felt himself as high and mighty as any farmer might feel.
“Yes. Four paper roubles more, and one other as earnest money, and I’ll stay. If not, then, curse it! I’ll go to the fair. There I shall find service, were it only as a coachman at some manor. They know me—know I am honest, and able to do any farm work, afield or in the house; many a farmer might learn a good deal of me, how I tend the cattle.—Or else. … I know how to shoot, and can get birds for his Reverence, or for Yankel. … Or else. …”
“See him!” the old man roared; “behold how grandly this lame one is prancing!”
The insult effectually sobered Kuba, and roused him from his dreamings. He said no more of what he could do; but held doggedly none the less to what he had said. Boryna had to give way by half a rouble or one zloty at a time, and ended by agreeing to give him three roubles more, and a couple of shirts in lieu of earnest money.
“Ho! Ho! what a fellow you are!” he said, as he drank with him to clinch the agreement, though he was angry at having to spend so much. All the same he thought Kuba was worth it, and more. A man as good as two for hard work; scrupulously honest besides, and more heedful of the beasts he tended than of himself; one, moreover, so well acquainted with husbandry that he could be relied on both to do his duty, and to see that the others did theirs.
After settling two or three minor points, Kuba was about to leave. At the door, however, he turned round, and spoke in faltering tones:
“The agreement is made, then: three roubles and a couple of shirts. But … but. … I beseech you, don’t sell the filly. I saw her into the world, and spread my sheepskin over her, lest she should die of cold. … I could never bear to see her ill-used, perhaps by a Jew! … A horse is so docile, a man is nothing beside it. … Please don’t sell her!”
“I never thought of doing such a thing.”
“Folk talked of it in the tavern, and I heard.”
“Meddlesome dogs and busybodies! They always know best what is to be done.”
Kuba was so delighted that, had he dared, he would have embraced his master’s knees. He made the best of his way to bed, for it was late, and there was the fair on the morrow.
Next day, before the cock had crowed twice, every highway and byway towards Tymov was thronged with people wending their way thither.
There had been a heavy rain ere morning. In the East it had cleared up a little, but the sky was threatening, with many a dun-coloured cloud. Over the low-lying fields crept fogs, dripping wet and grey as coarse canvas; and the pathways glistened with many a pool.
They had set out from Lipka at early dawn.
All along the poplar-planted road beyond the church and as far as the forest stretched a chain of slowly-rolling wagons, one close after another; and either side of the highway was variegated by a line of red petticoats and white capotes.
The multitude was so great that all the village seemed to be there.
The poorer husbandmen went on foot; so did the women and the farmhands and
