Presently he said: “They tell us the Lipka folk are to come to terms with the Squire today: is it so?”
“They may do so,” Hanka said, “if they get their rights granted.”
“And do ye know,” Vitek put in, “that the Germans have gone from amongst us?”
“Oh, may the plague stop their breath!” the dziad burst out, clenching his fist with fury.
“Have they, then, injured you too?”
“I went to them last evening: they set their dogs at me! … Scum of the earth, dog-begotten miscreants! … I hear the men of Lipka have made it too hot for them to stay. … Ha! I would flay them alive, leave not a rag of skin upon any of them!” he said, as he emptied the porringer, and, after feeding his dog, prepared to depart.
“ ’Tis your harvest now, and ye must go and gather it in,” Pete said sarcastically.
“I must, indeed. Last year we were only six in all here; now we are four times as many, and my ears tingle with the din we make.”
Yuzka said: “Pray spend the night with us.”
“May our Lord give you health, O you that remember the poor starveling!”
“A fine starveling indeed! With such a belly that he can hardly drag it!” sneered Pete, seeing him waddle ponderously in the middle of the road, groping for obstacles with his staff.
And then they all went out again: to hear Vespers, and enjoy the sweet tones of the organ, and weep their fill in church, and then visit the booths once more, were it only to feast their eyes on the splendours they displayed.
Simon had bought a string of amber beads for his Nastka, and ribbons, and a bright scarlet kerchief: all of which she immediately put on. And then they went from booth to booth, arms round waists, overflowing with gladness and intoxicated with joy.
Yuzka followed them, trying here and there to cheapen some article for sale, and ever more ruefully counting her money—only one wretched zloty in all!
Yagna, not far from them, affected not to see her brother, and walked alone, sorrowful and forlorn. All those fluttering ribbons now failed to rejoice her; and the barrel-organ’s tunes, and the crowd and the hubbub, failed too.
She walked along, carried on by the multitudes, and stopping where they stopped, knowing neither why she had come nor whither she was drifting.
Matthew glided up to her, and whispered softly:
“Do not drive me away from you!”
“And have I ever done that?”
“Once surely. And with words of upbraiding!”
“Because you had said what you should not—and I had no choice.—Someone had—”
She broke off suddenly; Yanek was slowly pushing through the crowd towards her.
“He’s here, then?” whispered Matthew, pointing to the young cleric, whose hands people wanted to kiss, and who smilingly refused the honour.
“He behaves like the son of a Squire! And how well I remember him, not so long since, running after the kine!”
“He, tending kine?—Never!” she exclaimed, hurt by the very thought.
“I have said. I recollect perfectly how the organist thrashed him one day for letting the kine graze in Prychek’s oat-patch, he asleep under a pear-tree the while.”
Yagna left him, and timidly made her way towards the young cleric, who smiled at her, but (finding himself the observed of all observers) turned his eyes away at once; and having purchased some tiny engravings of saints at a booth, he set about distributing these to anyone who cared to get them.
She stood rooted to the spot, gazing on him with ardent eyes. And to her vermilion lips there came a smile—bright, calm, and very sweet, like honey.
“Here is your holy patron, Yagna,” he said, handing her a picture of St. Agnes.—Their hands just touched, and fell apart, as from the smart of a burn.
She, shaking all over, durst not utter one syllable. He added a word or two, but she remained speechless, her eyes drowned in his.
The crowd drove them asunder. She placed the engraving in her bodice, and looked about her for some time. He was not visible any more, having entered the church, where another service was going on. But still she saw him in fancy.
“How like he is to that saint above the altar!” she said, uttering her thoughts aloud.
“And that’s why all the girls stare at him so!—They are foolish. ‘Not for dogs, I’m afraid, are sausages made.’ ”
She looked round quickly: Matthew was by her side!
Murmuring some inarticulate words, she tried to get away from him, but in vain; he followed her step by step. It was some time, however, before he ventured on putting this question:
“Yagna, what says your mother about Simon’s banns?”
“What can she say? Let him marry, if he choose: his will is his own.”
He made a wry face, and asked hesitatingly:
“But tell me, will she make over to him his portion of land?”
“How should I know? She has said naught to me. He can ask her himself.”
Simon and Nastka then joined them, with Andrew, who appeared suddenly, the five thus forming quite a group. Simon spoke first:
“Yagna, do not take Mother’s part; she would do me an injustice.”
“No, it is your part I am taking.—But, good heavens! how you have changed in these last few days! … ’Tis wonderful!” And, indeed, the brother she now saw before her was quite a dashing young fellow—clean-shaven, straight-backed, with a hat tilted on one side, and a snow-white capote!
“Because I am my mother’s drudge no longer.”
“And are you better off in your freedom?” she inquired, pleased at his spirit.
“Ask the bird you let go out of your hand: ye will see! … Did you hear the banns published?”
“And when is the wedding to be?”
Here Nastka answered, nestling tenderly to his side, and passing her arm round his waist:
“In three weeks, before harvest-home.” And she blushed deeply.
“And the wedding shall take place, were it in the tavern: I will not beg to use Mother’s cabin.”
“But have you a place for your wife?”
“Certainly; I shall remove to the side of our cabin opposite Mother’s. I shall not
