Towards the end, though loud and passionate in speech, she had become mistress of herself, fearless, and more beautiful than ever. Even her mother listened to her with astonishment, mingled with dread; for now another woman stood revealed before her, as terrible, as evil, and as dangerous as the dark cloud that bears the lightning within it.
Her words pierced Hanka, wounded her almost to death. They struck her without mercy, crushed and trampled her down. She felt strengthless, mindless, almost as unconscious as a tree that falls struck by the thunderbolt. She was scarcely able to breathe; her lips grew very white, and she sank back on a bench. Her anguish, it seemed to her, was rending her to pieces—nay, crushing her to grains of barren sand: even the tears had vanished from her face, grown ashy with the throes of that fierce ordeal, though her bosom still was shaken with deep dry sobs. She stared out into space as if in terror—into the abyss which had opened suddenly before her eyes; and she trembled as trembles an ear of corn, that the wind whirls on to destruction.
Yagna had long ago gone with her mother to the other side of the house; Yuzka was with the ducklings at the millpond; but Hanka still sat motionless in the same place, like a bird bereft of her fledgelings, unable to scream out, to defend itself, to flee anywhither, only now and then stirring its wings, and uttering a mournful cry.
But Heaven had pity on her and granted her a little relief. She came to herself again, knelt down before the holy pictures, and with abundant tears made a vow to go on pilgrimage to Chenstohova, if what she had heard should prove untrue.
She was not even angry with Yagna any more; she only dreaded her; and, hearing her voice now and then, crossed herself, as if to keep off a fiend.
Then she set to work. Her experienced hands worked almost as deftly as usual, little as her thoughts accompanied them; but she never remembered that she took the children out of doors and set the cabin in order that day.—At length, having prepared dinner and placed it in vessels for the field-labourers, she sent it to them by Yuzka.
And now, being quite alone, and no longer agitated, she sat down to reflect over every word said. Intelligent and kindhearted though she was, she could not put from her mind the blows dealt at her self-respect as a wife; more than once their memory made her burn with indignation, and her heart writhed under the torment it gave her; more than once the thought of some awful revenge filled her mind. But at last she came to this conclusion:
“Truly, as to good looks, there is no comparison between me and her. But I am his wedded wife; I am the mother of his children”; and her confidence returned at the thought.
“And should he even go astray after her, he will return again to me!—And at any rate,” she added to comfort herself, looking out of the window, “he can never marry her!”
Afternoon was melting into evening, when the thought of a step that must be taken flashed suddenly across Hanka’s mind. She considered for a minute or two, leaning against the wall; then, wiping her eyes, she strode out into the passage, flung open the door of Yagna’s room, and said, loud but calmly:
“Get out, out!—Out of this cabin instantly!”
Yagna, starting up from her settle, faced her for many seconds with a steady look. Then Hanka, taking a step or two back from the threshold, repeated in a hoarse voice:
“Take yourself away this instant, else will I have you thrown out by our farm-servant!—This instant!” she said once more, with stern emphasis.
Here the old dame would have interfered, eager to bring forward explanations and excuses; but Yagna merely shrugged her shoulders.
“Not a word to her—to that wretched wisp of straw! We know what she would have.”
She took a paper out of the bottom of a chest.
“ ’Tis the donation you’d have back, and the six acres therewith: take them, eat them, fill your belly with them!”
Flinging the paper in her face, she added scornfully:
“And choke yourself to death in the eating!”
Then, paying no heed to her mother’s remonstrances, she speedily set about packing up all her things and carrying them outside.
Hanka felt dizzy, as if she had received a blow between the eyes; but she picked up the paper, and said, threatening her:
“Quicker than that, or I will set the dogs on you!”
Meanwhile, she nevertheless felt overwhelmed with amazement. What! throw away six whole acres of land as one might cast away a broken pot?—How could she? The woman must be moonstruck, she thought, and eyed her over with astonishment.
Yagna, paying no more attention to her, was now taking down her own pictures, when Yuzka entered with a loud outcry.
“Give up the coral necklaces: they are mine from my mother—mine—mine—mine!”
Yagna was just unfastening them, but stopped.
“No,” she answered, “I will not. Matthias gave them to me: mine they are!”
Yuzka shrieked and stormed, until Hanka was forced to silence her. Then all became calm again; Yagna seemed to have become deaf and dumb. After having taken all her things out, she hurried away to get her brother’s help.
Dominikova made no further opposition, but replied to no word either from Hanka or from Yuzka. Only, when all her daughter’s things were on the cart, she rose and shook her fist, and said:
“May the worst of all possible fates not pass you by!”
Hanka winced under the curse, but took it quietly, and called after her: “When Vitek brings the cattle home, he’ll drive your cow to your hut. And send someone for all the rest in the evening, to drive them home to you.”
She gazed for a long time upon them as
