“Wife! Supper! I’m starved. How are you, Matthias? And you, old man, what do you need?”
“I have come to ask about the affair I am to appear in tomorrow.”
“I can wait your pleasure, sir. Put me in the passage; it shall be well with me; or if, because I am old, you set me by the fire, there I shall sit. Give me to eat of your potatoes or a morsel of bread, and I shall pray for you just as much as if you gave me a kopek or more.”
“Sit down. You may sup here and spend the night, too, if you will.”
And the Voyt sat down to a steaming dish of newly-mashed potatoes, made savoury with abundant driblets of fried bacon; a platter of sour milk standing close by.
“Take a seat, Matthias, and share what we have,” said the Voyt’s wife cordially as she laid a third spoon on the table.
“No, thanks. When I got home from the forest I ate a generous supper.”
“Take a spoonful at least; the evenings are getting long.”
“ ‘Plenty of prayers, plenty of food,
Never does harm, always does good,’ ”
the beggar put in sententiously.
Boryna stood upon ceremony for a time, but at last the smell of the bacon in his nostrils got the better of him. So he sat down and began to eat, but slowly, daintily, and with great decorum.
The blind man’s dog now began to move about uneasily and to whine impatiently for food.
“Be quiet, Burek! The farmer folk are at supper now. You will get your share, don’t fear.” So spoke the blind man soothingly as he was warming his hands at the fire and inhaling the savoury odour.
When the first pangs of hunger had been appeased, the Voyt, turning to Matthias, said: “Eva has, it appears, lodged a complaint against you.”
“She! Oh, well, I declare! Not paid her, indeed? As there is a God, I have—aye, and beyond what she deserved. Yes, and when she had that baby I willingly sent the priest a sack of oats for her at the christening!”
“But she says it was you who—”
“Oh, but that’s preposterous! What, is she mad? Is she crazy?”
“Oho! Old as you are, you are still an able craftsman!” And the Voyt and his wife burst out laughing.
“To be old,” put in the blind man, “is to know; to know is to be able.”
“But she lies like a gipsy! I never touched her, the wench! She was homeless; an outcast who begged and prayed us to take her in—just for the food and a corner to sleep in, because winter was near. I was loath to do it, but my wife that’s dead thought we had better. She could do things in the house. Why should we hire a servant when one was ready at hand? I did not like this—another mouth to feed, and in winter, too, when there’s always less to be done. But my wife said: ‘Don’t worry; she knows how to weave cloth and canvas. I’ll see to it that she is not idle, and there will always be some work or other for her.’ Well, she stayed on with us and got strong; and presently she was with child. But the question is, who was the man?”
“You, according to her.”
“I’ll kill her for saying so! The miserable liar!”
“Anyway, you will have to appear in court.”
“I shall. God reward you for telling me this. I thought it was about her wages: but I have witnesses to prove that I have paid her. A plague on her! A scold, and a beggar into the bargain!—Dear me! one trouble after another! I shall never be able to stand all this. And the cow I have had to kill! And the fieldwork not yet done! And here I am, all alone, with no one in the world to lend a hand!”
“ ‘Who for a wife that’s gone must weep is like a wolf-encompassed sheep,’ ” the old man observed.
“I heard about the cow; they told me in the village.”
“As to that, I have a claim against the manor. The forester, I understand, drove the cows away. She was the best of all I have—worth three hundred zloty—was with calf—ran so fast and got so blown that I had to kill her. No, I shall not let that pass: I’ll bring suit.”
The Voyt, however, who was friendly to the manor, strove to calm Boryna: anger was always a bad counsellor, and he should beware of doing anything rash. Then, to change the subject, he said with a wink at his wife:
“Man, you ought to marry, so as to get someone who would take care of the house.”
“I say, is this a joke? Why, last Assumption Day I rounded my fifty-eighth year. What are you dreaming of? And she, too, scarcely cold in her grave yet!”
“You just take a wife, one fit for your age, and all will be well with you again, Matthias,” said the Voyt’s wife, preparing to clear the table.
“ ‘For, sure, a good and kindly wife is the crown of her husband’s life,’ ” added the blind man, groping for the dish which the woman had set before him.
Boryna sat wondering why the thought had not occurred to him before. Certainly some woman or other was to be found, and anyone would be better than none.
“Some,” continued the old man as he ate, “are silly and speechless, some are quarrelsome, some pull the lads’ hair, and others are always dancing or running after music in taverns; but, anyhow, a man is better off with one than without.”
“But what would people think of it?” objected Boryna.
“Think? Will they give you back your cow or help you in anything, whatever they think?” the Voyt’s wife retorted with much heat.
“Or warm your bed for you?” said the Voyt with a laugh. “There are so many lasses here that, when a man goes about the huts, he is as hot as coal in a fire.”
“Ah! the reprobate! look at
