He bent his head over his hands, bowing it low; for many and various thoughts had now come into his mind, mournful recollections which the accusing voice of conscience now brought before him—bitter painful truths that humbled him in the dust, as he acknowledged his multitudinous transgressions and sins.
It was a hard thing, this confession of his, and he found it no easy matter to appease his conscience; but he fought down his stubbornness, conquered his pride, and looked back on his past life with true repentance, examining every act with the utmost severity and fairness of judgment.
“I have been naught but an infamous fool!” he thought with deep sadness, while a bitter smile writhed his lips. “All in the world must take place in due order. Aye, my father spoke wisely: ‘When all carts go the same way, woe to him that falls from one; he will be crushed under the wheels.’—But every man has to realize this by himself, with his own reason; and this may cost very dear indeed.”
Sounds of lowing now floated from the wood; the cattle were coming home amid great volumes of dust; oxen, sheep with their attendant dogs, careful to keep them away from the corn; squealing herds of pigs, driven home with many a blow; calves plaintively seeking their lost mothers; a few herdsmen on horseback, and the others on foot with the flocks, striking, shouting, and keeping up a stream of noisy talk.
Antek had remained with Peter on one side to let them pass, when Vitek saw him and came up to kiss his hand.
“I see you have grown pretty well in these last times.”
“I have in truth. The trousers I got in autumn now come but just beyond my knees.”
“All will be well; be sure that Mistress will give you a new pair.—Is there grass enough for the kine?”
“Alas! no, it is all sere and drying up. If mistress had not fodder for them at home, they could give no milk at all.—Pray let me have Peter, for a little ride,” he added pleadingly.
“But surely he will fall off the horse!”
“Why, no: how often and often have I taken him about on our filly! Besides, I shall be there to hold him.—How he loves riding and crying out at the horse!”—He took the boy and set him on an old jade that was plodding along with drooping head. Peter clutched at her mane with his tiny hands, smote her flanks with his bare heels, and screamed aloud with pleasure.
“A fine little fellow! O you dear boy of mine!” Antek exclaimed admiringly.
And he at once turned off from the road, taking a shortcut that led straight to his barn, as the descending sun painted the sky with gold and pale emerald-green, and the wind went down, and the falling dew made the ears of corn to droop.
He walked slow, with many memories at his heels: Yagna among them, as vivid as in life. He rubbed his eyes to get rid of the vision; but in vain. In spite of him, she walked on by his side, as she once had done; and as then, she seemed to shed around her such a delightful glow that it made the blood rush to his head.
“Peradventure ’twas well Hanka drove her away! She is to me as an ulcer in the flesh—a rankling ulcer!—But the past will never be again,” he said, a strange pain gnawing at his heart; and he added, with stern reproof: “My wild oats are all sown!” as he entered the enclosure.
In the yard they were busy over their evening labours, Yuzka milking the cows outside the byre and singing a shrill ditty, while Hanka made kluski in the porch.
As Antek went in to look over his father’s apartments, his wife followed him.
“After we have set things in order here, we shall remove to this side.—Is there any lime to be had?”
“Yes, I bought some at the fair, and shall call Staho in tomorrow: he will whitewash the place.—Certainly, we shall be more comfortable here.”
He peered awhile into every corner, thinking.
“Were you in the fields?” she asked him timidly.
“I was. All is in good order. Hanka, I could not have done better myself.”
She coloured deeply with the pleasure of hearing him praise her.
“Only,” he went on to say, “let that Pete go and feed swine, not till my ground! The good-for-nothing oaf!”
“I know him well, and have even been looking out for another farm-servant.”
“Well, I shall tackle him, and—should he not be obedient—send him flying!”
Hearing the children cry, she ran to them. Antek went into the yard to continue his inspection of everything. He was so severely masterful of aspect, that—though he only threw out a word here and there—Pete felt alarmed, and Vitek, afraid to come near him, slunk about at a respectful distance.
Yuzka, was milking her third cow, and bawling ever louder and louder:
“Still, Pretty One, be still,
And let me fill
The pail!”
“Why,” he called out to her, “you screech as if flayed alive!”
She was dumb for an instant; but, bold and daring by nature, she soon struck up again, though in a less high-pitched key this time:
“My mother begs of thee
This evening not to fail:
Still, Pretty One, be still!”
“Can you not be quiet? Master is present!” Hanka said, reprovingly, carrying some water for the cow to drink.
Antek took the vessel from her hands, and set it before the cow, saying with a laugh:
“Screech away, Yuzka, screech away; you’ll drive all the rats off the premises in no time!”
“I shall do just as I please!” she answered back sulkily, in a mood to quarrel. But as soon as they had gone by, she ceased her song, though she still eyed her brother askance, with a resentful sniff.
Hanka, busy with the pigs, carried them so many heavy tubs of mash that he was sorry
