Some went to buy, and some to sell, and some just to enjoy the fair.
One man led a cow or a big calf by a rope; one drove a flock of shorn sheep in front of him; another walked behind a sow with her little ones, or a lot of white geese, with their wings tied; another trotted by, riding a sorry nag; while from under many an apron the red comb of a cock peered forth.—The wagons and carts, too, were well laden. Often, from the basketwork and straw within one of them, a hog’s snout would appear, squealing clamorously, till the geese gaggled in consternation, and the dogs that ran to market by their masters’ sides, barked in chorus.
But Boryna only left his cabin when the day had fully risen, and the sky had quite cleared. Hanka and Yuzka had started before him at the very break of day, with the sow and the fatted pig; and Antek had taken ten sacks of wheat and fifty pounds of red clover-seed in the cart. Kuba alone had remained at home, with Vitek, and old Yagustynka, hired to cook the dinner and milk the cows.
Vitek, who wanted to go to the fair, was blubbering noisily outside the cow-house.
“What is the matter with the fool?” Boryna grunted; and making the sign of the Cross, he started off on foot, expecting that someone would give him a lift by the way. Which also came to pass; for just beyond the tavern the organist, who was driving in a britzka with a couple of lusty horses, caught up with him.
“What, Matthias, are you on foot?”
“Aye, stretching my legs.—Praised be Jesus Christ!”
“Forever!” the organist’s wife answered. “Jump up; there is room for you.”
“Many thanks. I should have walked, but, as the saying is: ‘They that ride in a cart are ay joyful at heart’ ”—and he sat down on the front seat, with his back to the horses.
“And so young Yanek is not at school now? How’s that?” he inquired of a lad who was driving, and sitting in front with a farmhand.
“Oh, I’m only just here for the fair!” he sang out in reply. He was the organist’s son. His father said, tapping a box which he held out to Boryna: “French snuff: take a pinch.” They both did so, and both sneezed solemnly.
“Well, how goes it with you? Selling anything today?”
“Nothing much. Wheat sent earlier, and a pig, taken by the girls.”
“Not bad, not bad at all!” the organist’s wife exclaimed. “Yanek, put this comforter on: it is chilly.”
“Oh, I am all right,” he answered; but she insisted on his putting it on.
“But,” Boryna pointed out, “think of my expenses; I can scarce pay my way.”
“Matthias, do not complain; you have no reason to. Thank God that you have enough.”
Boryna, not liking to be thus reproved in the presence of a hired man, leaned forward hastily, and whispered:
“Is Yanek to remain at school much longer?”
“Only till Easter.”
“And after? Is he to stay at home, or become an official?”
“My good man, what should he be doing at home? We have lots of children, and only fifteen acres. And times are hard—hard as stones!—There are christenings in plenty indeed; but what do we get from them?”
“On the other hand,” Boryna satirically remarked, “there is no lack of funerals.”
“And what do funerals bring us? Nobody dies but poor people. A farmer’s burial, really worth something to us, comes only once or twice a year.”
“And votive masses,” she added, “are ever more seldom, and people bargain for them like Jews!”
“That,” Boryna explained, “is on account of present hard times, and poverty.”
“Also because men now think less of their salvation, and of the duty to help poor souls in purgatory!”
The organist here added: “And we get less from the manors as well. Formerly, when on our rounds at harvest-time, or offering wafers, or at Yuletide, or with our lists of parishioners newly made up, we used to go straight to the manor, where they grudged us neither corn, nor money, nor flour for pastry. And now, good heavens! all have grown so stingy that, if one offers us a little sheaf of rye, it must have been gnawed by mice; and if a bushel of oats, it will be chaff for the greater part. Had we not a bit of land, we should have to beg our bread,” he concluded, holding out his snuffbox to Boryna.
“True, true,” the latter replied, though under no delusion. He well knew the organist had money, some in the bank, some out at interest, and profitably lent to farmhands. So he only smiled to hear his lamentations, and once more asked about Yanek.
“Are you going to make a Government clerk of him?”
“Of him? My Yanek—a Government official? I have not denied myself bread for him that the poor boy should have to finish his classes. No, no; he shall be a priest.”
“What, a priest?”
“Aye, why not? Shall he lose aught thereby? Whom does it hurt to become a priest?”
“No one. No one, certainly,” he answered with deliberation, looking respectfully over his shoulder at the young fellow. “It is an honour. And also, as the saying is: ‘A priest’s kith and kin will never grow thin.’ ”
“They said that Staho, the miller’s son, was to enter the seminary; but I hear he is now at a college, studying medicine.”
“Ah! such an evil-liver, a priest! Why, my servant Magda is six months with child—and by him!”
“By the miller’s man, they say.”
“No. His mother says so, but it is only to screen him. Oh, such a profligate! … God forbid! … As a physician, he’ll do very well.”
Boryna said: “Yes, yes, a priest’s vocation is by far the best,” and continued to humour her, tactfully listening to her gossip, while the organist would many a time lift his cap, answering “Forever!” to the greetings of those
