“And we,” Matthew declared, “are not going to send Nastka away empty-handed. She will get one thousand zloty in cash!”
Here the smith came up, took him aside, whispered a word, and hurried away.
They went on talking, and filling up imaginary details. Simon thought with sparkling eyes what a good farmer he would be, once come into his own, and how he would settle down to work. Oh, they would soon see what a man he was!—Nastka gazed on him, open-mouthed in wonder. Andrew talked in the same sense; Yagna alone was absentminded, hearing barely half of what they said. It did not interest her.
“Yagna!” Matthew cried. “Come over to the tavern; the band will be playing.”
“I care no more for such amusements,” she replied, sadly.
Her eyes were dimmed. He shot a glance into them, pulled his cap down, and rushed off, jostling those in his way. In front of the priest’s house he met Teresa.
“Whither away?” she asked him timidly.
“To the tavern. A meeting has been called by the smith.”
“I should go with you gladly.”
“I neither thrust you aside, nor is there lack of space. But take heed lest they speak evil of you for the glances of your eyes!”
“They speak as it is, and tear me to pieces, as dogs tear a dead sheep.”
“Then wherefore give them occasion?” he asked, now growing impatient.
“Wherefore? Well, you know wherefore!” she replied in a husky voice.
He walked forward, and so fast that she could hardly keep up with him.
Suddenly turning round on her, “Now then!” he cried; “there ye are, shedding tears like a calf!”
“Nay, nay! ’twas but a little dust in mine eyes,” she returned.
Unexpectedly, he moderated his pace, and, walking by her side, spoke to her with much gentleness:
“Here is a little money: purchase something for yourself at one of these booths.—And come ye to the tavern: we will dance together.”
She would fain have fallen at his feet to thank him.
“For the money I care not; but your kindness, how great it is!” she faltered, her face red as fire.
“Well, come then; but later. Until the evening I shall be much engaged.”
And with a farewell smile on the tavern doorstep, he went in.
There were plenty of people there, and it was stifling hot. The great room was full of people, drinking and chatting with one another; but the private parlour contained the best youth of Lipka, with the smith and Gregory, the Voyt’s brother, at their head. There were several of the older farmers, too: Ploshka, the Soltys, Klemba, and Adam, cousin to Boryna. Even Kobus, though uninvited, had found means to enter.
When Matthew came in, Gregory was speaking very earnestly, and writing with chalk on the table.
By the proposed agreement, the Squire promised to give four acres of the Podlesie farm for each one of the forest they made over to him; also to let them have as much more land, to be paid by instalments. Moreover, he was to give them timber on credit for building the huts.
All this Gregory set forth, article by article, calculating in figures how the land should be divided, and how much each was to get.
“ ‘A promise is a toy made to give fools joy!’ ” grumbled Ploshka.
“But this—this is a fact, not a promise. He is to sign everything at the notary’s—and do not forget it! So much land for us folk! Each family in Lipka will have an additional holding: think of that, my masters!”
The blacksmith here repeated what the Squire had directed him to say.
They listened attentively, in silence, looking hard at the white figures on the table, and reflecting.
“ ’Tis all right—a golden opportunity; but will the Commissioner give his consent to it?” asked the Soltys, first to speak, and running his fingers through his shock of hair.
“He must!” Gregory thundered. “When our assembly has decided, we shall ask no official’s leave: he cannot help himself! We will have it so!”
“Leave or no leave, there’s no need to shout so loud. Will one of you see whether the policeman is not listening, close outside the wall?”
“I saw him drinking at the bar this minute,” Matthew affirmed.
“And when,” someone asked, “has the Squire said he would sign?”
“Tomorrow, if ye will,” was the answer. “Let us but accept, he will sign at once, and we can measure the ground out afterwards.”
“Then, directly after harvest-home, we might enter into possession?”
“And give it proper tilling in autumn?”
“Ah! splendid! … How the work will go on then!”
All began talking excitedly together. They were full of joy; their eyes shone with the consciousness of success, and they stretched their arms forth as if to seize upon the long-wished-for holdings.
Some fell to humming tunes, some to calling on the Jew for vodka, out of sheer gladness. Some talked no little nonsense about the division of the portions they were to have, and everyone had visions of the new lands and riches and happiness that were to be theirs.
They were like men drunk: they babbled, they drummed on the table with their fists, on the floor with their feet: the uproar was tremendous.
“Ah! then—then the local feast at Lipka will indeed be a grand affair!”
“And how many weddings we shall have every Carnival!”
“Why, all the Lipka girls will not suffice!”
“We shall send to town for more, hey?”
“Be quiet, boys!” old Ploshka exclaimed, thumping on the table for silence. “Ye make such a hullabaloo as do the Jews in their synagogue on the Sabbath.—What I would say is this: is there not some trick in the Squire’s offer?”
They all became silent suddenly: it was a bucket of cold water thrown over their enthusiasm. At last the Soltys spoke:
“I too can in no wise understand what makes the man so very lavish.”
“Aye,” one of the older men chimed in; “there must be something wrong about it: else how could he give up so much land almost for nothing?”
Gregory flew into
