Hanka soon got through her work, though she had not to hurry: one cow, a heifer, a young pig and a few geese and fowls forming all her live stock, and indeed all her wealth. She dressed the boys, who presently went out into the passage to play with Veronka’s children; the sound of their frolics was soon heard. Then she tidied herself up a little, as she expected the dealers, and would have to go to the village afterwards.
She particularly wished to talk the matter of the sale over with Antek beforehand; but she could not venture to speak first. He, still sitting by the fire that burned no more, was staring into the distance with a mien so sombre that it made her afraid.
What could it be that ailed him?
She took off her clogs, lest their clatter might annoy him, and cast in his direction more and more frequent glances full of affectionate disquietude.
“Ah,” she thought, “it is harder, far harder for him than for other men!” and a great desire came over her to question him, to try and guess his sorrows, and mourn over them with him. Already she was standing by his side, ready with words of kindness, welling up from her loving heart. But then, how could she speak to him, if he paid no more heed to her than if she were not there? She heaved a sigh, for her heart was very heavy. Good God! how much better off so many another woman was—even though without a roof she could call her own! Should he raise his voice—nay, even his hand—against her, well, she would at least know she had a living man by her side, and not a log of wood. “But he! … Not a word! Now and then he growls, as an angry dog would—or looks at me so that my blood runs cold. I cannot talk with him, nor open my heart in converse with him at all. A wife—what is that to him? A pair of hands to tidy the cabin—to cook his food—to nurse his children! Does he care for me in any wise? ever caress me, pet me, treat me tenderly, or even chat with me? All that has no interest for him: he keeps his mind aloof from all around him, makes himself as a stranger, and succeeds so well that he sees nothing that goes on. Yes, let the poor wife bear every burden on her own shoulders: suffer alone—come and go—trouble about all things: he will never pay her with one gracious word!”
She could no longer keep back her tears, the bitter overflow of her grief, and went out to the byre beyond the partition wall, where, leaning against the manger, she wept in silence; but when the cow Krasula, with a deep breath, set to licking her head and shoulders, she burst out into loud lamentations.
“And I shall lose you too, my poor beast! … They will come. … They are coming. … They will bargain for you … and then throw a rope round your horns … and lead you off, you that give us our food!” she murmured low, putting her arm round its neck, and turning with all the affection of her wounded heart towards this creature that felt for her.—No, this could go on no longer.—The cow was to be sold; then there would be nothing for them to eat! … And he refused to seek work! Had they not asked him to thresh? and he would not go. He might have earned one zloty ten kopeks daily. … That would have at least bought salt, and a little lard to make up for the milk that was to fail them now.
She returned to the dwelling-room, ready to speak her mind.
“Antek!” she cried, in a hard, determined voice.
Silently he raised his bloodshot eyes to hers, with a gaze of such immense anguish and sorrow that she was overwhelmed with dread, while her heart thrilled with compassion.
“Did you say they had come for the cow?”
“They are surely on the way; dogs are barking down there.”
“No, that is in Sikora’s enclosure,” she said after having gone out to look.
“They promised to come in the forenoon, and we have only to wait.”
“Oh, must we sell?”
“Alas! we want money, and our pastureland is not enough for Krasula and the heifer too.—Yes, we must, Hanka; what’s to be done? I am sorry to lose the cow,” he went on in a low voice, and with such sweetness of tone that Hanka felt spellbound, while her heart went pit-a-pat with great joy and hope: at that moment, she cared neither for the loss of the cow, nor any of their other misfortunes. And she gazed earnestly into his beloved face, listening to that voice of his which entered into her like a flame, and kindled such delightful feelings within her.
“Ah, yes, we must. Well,
