Raging, she tore herself from his clutch.
“Touch me but once more, I’ll tear your eyes out and call the whole village here to you!”
“Hush, Yagna, hush! See, I bring you a present!” and he pressed into her hand a necklace of coral.
“Put it … !” Her exasperation may be some excuse for what she said. “All your gifts are mere rubbish to me!”
“But, Yagna, what—what means this?” he stammered, stupefied.
“It means this much: ye are a hog! And are never to speak to me any more!”
She broke away from him in a towering passion, and rushed home.
Her mother was peeling potatoes; Andrew was milking the cows, out of doors. She set herself busily to perform her evening duties, though still trembling all over with anger and unable to calm herself; and as soon as the twilight had gathered, she went out to roam again, saying to her mother:
“I am going to look in at the organist’s.”
Soon she beheld the windows of Yanek’s room, shining bright in the darkness; there Michael was writing under the suspended lamp, while the organist and his dame sat outside the house, taking the cool of the evening.
They greeted her with the news: “Yanek is to be here tomorrow afternoon!”
The bliss of it nearly made her fall senseless at their feet. Her knees bent under her; her heart beat so fast that she could scarcely breathe. Having sat with them a few minutes for courtesy’s sake, she fled away along the poplar road and towards the wood, swift as a hunted beast. … “Lord! Lord!” she burst out in strange thanksgiving: she stretched forth her arms, tears gushed from her eyes, and a marvellous feeling of gladness came over her, so intense that it gave her a longing to laugh, to scream out, to run like mad, and kiss the trees around her and the fields beneath, that lay silvery in the moonlight!
“Yanek is coming—is coming—is coming!” she crooned to herself, darting forward suddenly with the rapidity of a bird, and running on, impelled by her desires and her anticipations, as if towards the achievement of her destiny, and towards ineffable delight.
When she got home, it was late. All the village was dark except Boryna’s hut, where many people had assembled to debate; and as she went, she thought only of the morrow and of Yanek’s return.
Back in the hut, she could not fall asleep. As soon as she heard her mother’s rasping stertorous breath, she ceased from tossing on her pillow, and went to sit out of doors and await there either slumber or daybreak.
She could now and again catch the sound of voices at Boryna’s, across the water, and, one side of his hut being lighted, she perceived the tremulous reflection of the light in the pond opposite her.
Her eyes fixed on this, she forgot about all things … lost in a multitude of dreary thoughts that wrapped her about like gossamer tissues, and carried her away with them into the universe of unsatiable yearnings!
The moon was down, the countryside of a murky brown tint. Many stars shone on high; and from time to time one of them would fall with such swiftness and from so enormous a height as to thrill every limb of her with dread. Sometimes a faint breeze swept gently by, like the touch of tender hands: and then the pleasant waft, warm and odorous, coming up from the fields, made her stretch and stiffen her body in the voluptuous enjoyment of that fragrance.
Absorbed, entranced in this reverie, of which no words can tell the sweetness, she remained immobile, like a swelling shoot of some young plant, gathering within itself hoards of sap and vegetable life. … And the night passed on, silent and careful, as it were, not to disturb human nature in its rapturous bliss.
Within Antek’s cabin, the men that held with him and Gregory were talking of the assembly that was to take place next day at the District Office, and to which the Voyt had convened all the farmers of Lipka.
There were about a score of peasants there—the whole party of Antek and Gregory—lighted only by one small candle that glimmered on the penthouse of the chimney.
Roch, who sat in the shadow, was explaining at length the results of opening the school in Lipka as proposed; and Gregory was telling each man in particular how to vote and what to say to the head of the District.
They laid their heads together for a long time, with many objections and some opposition; but in the end they agreed entirely, and then separated before dawn, for they would have to rise pretty early in the morning.
So Yagna remained alone awake outside the cottage, still plunged in the night of her reverie, still breathing these words, like an invocation of love:
“He will come—he will be here!”
And she turned instinctively, bowing towards the eastern sky—as if desirous to know what the coming day would bring, that now peeped grey over the horizon—and she abandoned herself, with a sense of dread and yet of exultation, to that which was to be.
VIII
It was near noontide, and the heat greater and greater. The people were all assembled outside the District Office; but the head of the District had not yet appeared. The scrivener had several times come out upon the threshold and, shading his eyes, looked down the broad highway, with its borders of gnarled willow-trees. Nothing was visible but the glittering pools which yesterday’s shower had left—one cart crawling along, and a peasant’s white capote fluttering among the trees.
So they waited patiently. The Voyt alone rushed bustling to and fro, restless and fidgety, now looking out upon the road, now urging forward the work of the men who were filling up the hollows in the square before the Office.
“Faster, lads! faster, for God’s sake! He will be here ere ye have done the work!”
A voice from the crowd called out: “Beware lest ye be so scared
