Vitek and Kuba brought a long bench and set it in front of the fire. And Yuzka, having wiped it with a clean linen cloth, at once set on it the necessary dishes and spoons for supper.
Out of the pantry Boryna brought a big-bellied bottle, containing four quarts of vodka, and went round drinking to each visitor, and with him.
The girls, however, hung back with affected dislike, until one of the farmhands cried out: “They’re all as fond of vodka as a cat of milk, but just hold off for the look of the thing!”
“The hopeless drunkard! Always at Yankel’s, he thinks everyone is like him!”
So they held off no more, but drank, first turning away and putting their hands before their faces, then throwing the last drops on to the floor, with due rites; and each made a wry face and exclaimed: “How very strong!” as she returned the glass to Boryna.
Yagna alone refused to drink, however much she was asked.
“I do not so much as know how vodka tastes, and I do not care to know.”
“Well, now, sit down, dear friends, and partake of what we have for you,” was Boryna’s invitation, after the vodka.
Several formalities, commanded by good breeding, having been gone through, they all seated themselves to eat deliberately and engage in conversation.
The food was so very excellent as to surprise many of the guests. There were boiled potatoes, served in broth; there was sodden meat, with barley meal; there was cabbage together with peas in one dish: all offered with great hospitality on the part of the master, who not only invited, but pressed his visitors to enjoy themselves.
Vitek heaped the fire with dry roots, which made a joyful crackling noise; and while they were eating, Kuba brought in a heap of fresh cabbages, which he piled up, greedily sniffing the dainties on the table, and sighing.
“Those creatures!” he grumbled to himself; “all eating away like starved horses! Very likely they will not leave a man as much as a bone to gnaw!”
Presently, however, the meal was over, and all stood up to say “God reward you!” to the founder of the feast.
“May it do you good!” was the set reply.
A few minutes of unrest ensued, during which some went out to take a little air and stretch their limbs, some to see whether the sky was clearing up; and the farmhands, to stand about the porch and chaff the girls.
And then Kuba sat down upon the threshold, with a dish on his lap, and gorged himself with such an intensity of appetite that he did not so much as notice the dog Lapa, notwithstanding its gentle hints; and Lapa, finding it would get nothing in that quarter, made for the passage reserved for the other dogs that had come with the guests and were gnawing the bones thrown to them by Yuzka.
They were about to fall to work again, when Roch appeared upon the threshold, and “praised Jesus Christ.”
“World without end!” was the reply of all.
“ ‘See ye come not too late, but when food’s on the plate,’ ” Boryna quoted.
“Let Yuzka but give me some bread and milk; ’twill do.”
“There’s some meat remaining still,” said Hanka, timidly.
“No, thanks; I never eat meat.”
At first, all were silent, staring at him with friendly curiosity; but when he sat down to eat, they soon again fell a-talking and a-laughing.
Yagna alone eyed the old pilgrim again and again, with wondering looks, surprised that such a one, not unlike other men, should have visited the tomb of Christ our Lord, and gone over half the world, and seen so many a marvel. What was it like, then, the great world he knew? Where should one go, to arrive at it? Around her there were only hamlets and fields and pine-forests, beyond which again stretched fields and pine-forests and hamlets. One must go a hundred leagues, or perhaps a thousand, she thought. She was strangely drawn to put some questions to the man; but how could she? The folk would only laugh at her.
Rafal’s son, who had just come back from the army, had brought his fiddle; and now, having tuned it, began to play one tune after another. Silence came over the room; only the rain was heard, pattering upon the panes, and the voices of the dogs whining outside.
He played and played on, ever some new tune, drawing his bow across the strings, and the melody seemed to come forth by itself at its caressing touch. First he played religious tunes, as though in honour of the pilgrim, who never took his eyes off the young man. Then came other and quite worldly airs; for instance, the one about “Johnny has gone to the wars,” which the girls were used to sing in the fields so often; and he drew the notes out with such infinite sadness that an icy shudder ran down one’s spine; and Yagna, who was sensitive to music as are but few, felt tears, one after another, trickling down her cheeks.
“Oh, do leave off!” Nastka called out. “You are making Yagna cry.”
“No, no; I always feel tearful when there is music,” Yagna whispered, covering her face with her apron.
But she could not help the tears that flowed against her will, called forth by the strange yearning which she felt within her—and for what? She knew not.
The young fellow went on playing; only the fiddle now poured out riotous
