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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: More Tales by Polish Authors + +Author: Various + +Translator: Else C. M. Benecke + Marie Busch + +Release Date: March 2, 2011 [EBook #35457] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h2> +MORE TALES BY POLISH +AUTHORS</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">TALES BY POLISH +AUTHORS.<br /> + +Translated +by <span class="smcap">Else Benecke</span>.<br /> +Crown 8vo., +cloth, 3s. 6d. net.</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is a book to be bought and +read; it cannot fail to be remembered.... +The whole book is full of passionate +genius.... It is delightfully +translated."—<i>The Contemporary Review.</i></p></div> + + +<div class="center"> +OXFORD<br /> +B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD ST.<br /></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1> +MORE TALES BY<br /> +POLISH AUTHORS<br /> +<br /><br /></h1> + +<h3>TRANSLATED BY<br /></h3> +<h2>ELSE C. M. BENECKE<br /></h2> +<h3>AND<br /></h3> +<h2>MARIE BUSCH<br /><br /><br /></h2> + +<h4>OXFORD<br /> +B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET<br /> +1916<br /></h4> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> +<h3>NOTE</h3> + + +<p>The translators' thanks are due to MM. +Szymański and Żeromski for allowing their +stories to appear in English; and to Mr. +Nevill Forbes, Reader in Russian in the +University of Oxford, Mr. Retinger, and Mr. +Stefan Wolff, for granting permission on +behalf of the three other authors (or their +representatives) whose works are included +in this volume; also to Miss Repszówa for +much valuable help.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Maciej the Mazur.</span> By Adam Szymański</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">Two Prayers.</span> By Adam Szymański</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Trial.</span> By W. St. Reymont</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Stronger Sex.</span> By Stefan Żeromski</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Chukchee.</span> By W. Sieroszewski</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Returning Wave.</span> By Bolesław Prus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> +<h3>POLISH PRONUNCIATION</h3> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">cz = English <i>ch</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">sz = English <i>sh</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ł = English <i>w</i>.</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ó = English <i>o</i> in "who."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ą = French "on."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ę = French <i>in</i> as in "vin."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">rz and ż = French <i>j</i> in "jour."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">(rz and ż after <i>k</i>, <i>p</i>, <i>t</i>, <i>ch</i> = English <i>sh</i>.)</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">ch = Scotch <i>ch</i> in "loch."</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">c = <i>ts</i>.</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 15%;" /> + +<div class="center"> +Pan = Mr.<br /> +Pani = Mrs.<br /> +Panna = Miss.<br /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>MACIEJ THE MAZUR</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> ADAM SZYMANSKI</div> + + +<p>After leaving Yakutsk I settled in X——, a +miserable little town farther up the Lena. The +river is neither so cold nor so broad here, but +wilder and gloomier. Although the district is +some thousands of versts nearer the civilized +world, it contains few colonies. The country is +rocky and mountainous, and the taiga<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> spreads +over it in all directions for hundreds and thousands +of versts. It would certainly be difficult to find +a wilder or gloomier landscape in any part of the +world than the vast tract watered by the Lena +in its upper course, almost as far as Yakutsk +itself. Taiga, gloomy, wild, and inaccessible, +taiga as dense as a wall, covers everything here—mountains, +ravines, plains, and caverns. Only +here and there a grey, rocky cliff, resembling the +ruin of a huge monument, rises against this dark +background; now and then a vulture circles +majestically over the limitless wilderness, or its +sole inhabitant, an angry bear, is heard growling.</p> + +<p>The few settlements to be found nestle along +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +the rocky banks of the Lena, which is the only +highway in this as in all parts of the Yakutsk +district. Continual intercourse with Nature in +her wildest moods has made the people who live +in these settlements so primitive that they are +known to the ploughmen in the broad valleys +along the Upper Lena, and to the Yakutsk +shepherds, as "the Wolves."</p> + +<p>The climate is very severe here, and, although +the frosts are not as sharp and continuous as in +Yakutsk, this country, on account of being the +nearest to the Arctic regions, is exposed to the +cruel Yakutsk north wind. This is so violent +that it even sweeps across to the distant Ural +Mountains.</p> + +<p>At the influx of the great tributary of the Lena +there is a large basin; it was formed by the common +agency of the two rivers, and subsequently +filled up with mud. This basin is surrounded on +every side by fairly high mountains, at times +undulating, at times steep. Its north-eastern +outlet is enclosed by a very high and rocky range, +through which both rivers have made deep ravines. +X——, the capital of the district inhabited by +the "Wolf-people," lies in this north-eastern +corner of the basin, partly on a small low rock +now separated from the main chain by the bed +of the Lena, partly at the foot of the rock between +the two rivers. The high range of mountains +forming the opposite bank of the Lena rises into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +an enormous rocky promontory almost facing +the town. Flat at the top and overgrown by a +wood, the side towards the town stands up at a +distance of several hundred feet as a perpendicular +wall planed smooth with ice, thus narrowing the +horizon still more. As though to increase the +wildness of the scenery presented by the mountains +and rocks surrounding the dark taiga, a +fiendish kind of music is daily provided by the +furious gales—chiefly north—which prevail here +continually, and bring the early night frosts in +summer, and ceaseless Yakutsk frosts and snowstorms +in winter. The gale, caught by the hills +and resounding from the rocks, repeats its varied +echoes within the taiga, and fills the whole place +with such howling and moaning that it would +be easy for you to think you had come by mistake +into the hunting-ground of wolves or bears.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was somewhere about the middle of November, +a month to Christmas. The gale was howling +in a variety of voices, as usual, driving forward +clouds of dry snow and whirling them round in +its mad dance. No one would have turned a dog +into the street. The "Wolf-people" hid themselves +in their houses, drinking large quantities +of hot tea in which they soaked barley or rye +bread, while the real wolves provided the accompaniment +to the truly wolfish howling of the gale. +I waited for an hour to see if it would abate;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +however, as this was not the case, I set out from +the house, though unwillingly.</p> + +<p>I had promised Stanisław Światełki some days +beforehand that I would go to him one day in +the course of the week to write his home letters +for him—"very important letters," as he said. +It was now Saturday, so I could postpone it no +longer. Stanisław was lame, and, on account of +both his lameness and his calling, he rarely left +the house. He came from the district of Cracow—from +Wiślica, as far as I recollect—and prided +himself on belonging to one of the oldest burgher +families of the Old Town, a family which, as far +as fathers' and grandfathers' memories could +reach, had applied itself to the noble art of shoemaking. +Stanisław, therefore, was also a shoemaker, +the last in his family; for although the +family did not become extinct in him, nevertheless, +as he himself expressed it, "Divine Providence +had ordained" that he should not hand down his +trade to his son.</p> + +<p>"God has brought him up, sir, and it seems +to have been His will that the shoemaker Światełkis +should come to an end in me," Stanisław used to +say. He had a habit of talking quickly, as if he +were rattling peas on to a wall. Only at very +rare moments, when something gave him courage +and no strangers were present, he would add: +"Though His judgments are past finding out.... What +does it matter? Why, my grandson will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +be a shoemaker!" He would then grow pale +from having expressed his secret thought, turn +round quickly, as though looking for something, +shift uneasily, and—as I noticed sometimes—unconsciously +spit and whisper to himself: "Not +in an evil hour be it spoken, Lord!" thereby +driving away the spell from his dearest wish.</p> + +<p>He was of middle height, fair, but nearly grey, +and had lost all his teeth. He wore a beard, +and had a broad, shapeless nose and large, hollow +eyes; it was difficult to say what kind of person +he was as long as he sat silent. But only let him +move—which, notwithstanding the inseparable +stick, he always did hastily, not to say feverishly—only +let him pour out his quick words with a +tongue moving like a spinning-wheel, and no one +who had ever seen a burgher of pure Polish blood +could fail to recognize him as a chip of the old +block. Stanisław had not long carried on his +trade in X——. Having scraped together some +money as foreman, he had started a small shop; +but he was chiefly famous in the little town as +the one maker of good Polish sausages. He had +a house next door to the shop, consisting of one +room and a tiny kitchen. He did not keep a +servant; a big peasant, known as Maciej, prepared +his meals and gave him companionship and efficient +protection. Hitherto, however, I had known +very little of this man.</p> + +<p>I did not often visit Światełki, and as a rule<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +only when I wanted to buy something. So we +had chatted in the shop, and I had only seen +Maciej in passing. But I had noticed him as +something unusually large. He was, indeed, +huge; not only tall, but, as rarely happens, broad +in proportion. It was this which gave his whole +figure its special characteristics, and made it seem +imposing rather than tall.</p> + +<p>A house calculated for ordinary people he +found narrow. Furniture standing far enough +apart to suit the average man hampered Maciej. +He could not take two steps in the house without +knocking against something. He trod cautiously +and very slowly, continually looking round; and +he always had the ashamed air of a man who +feels himself out of place and is persuaded that +his strongest efforts will not save him from doing +absurd things. I had seen Maciej a few times +when, in Światełki's absence, he had taken his +place in the shop, where the accommodation was +fairly limited. An expression almost of suffering +was depicted on his broad face, and especially +noticeable when, on approaching the passage +between the shelves and the counter, he stood +still a moment and measured the extent of the +danger with an anxious look. That it existed +was undoubted, for the shelves were full of glasses +and jugs of all kinds, so that one push could do +no little harm. It was a real Scylla and Charybdis +for him. He looked indescribably comical, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +was so much worried that after a few minutes the +drops of perspiration ran off his forehead. Once +I found him there in utter misery, waiting for +someone to come. For he had fancied, when +going through this passage after settling with a +customer, that he had knocked against something +behind him, and, not being able to ascertain what +it was, he stood and waited, afraid to move until +someone came.</p> + +<p>"God be praised that you've come!" he +exclaimed with delight. "I am fixed here as +sure as a Jew comes to a wedding. <i>He's</i> gone +away and doesn't mean to come back! Good +Lord! how little room there is here! I've +knocked against some teapot or other, and can't +move either way. The devil take all these +shelves!" He continued his lamentations when +I had set him free. "It's always like this; it's a +real misfortune, this want of room. But what +does it matter to him? He fits in here; though +he has to help himself with a stick, he can spin +round like a top."</p> + +<p>"He" was, of course, the shoemaker, for +Maciej's stupidity caused frequent bickerings, +which, however, never became serious between +them. Maciej's unwieldiness and awkwardness +irritated the nervous, agile shoemaker; while, on +the other hand, Maciej could not understand the +shoemaker's quickness. But this was not their +only cause of contention. The shoemaker, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +burgher, was to a certain extent a man of position, +with a deep sense of his higher rank; he wore a +coat, and had needs which Maciej regarded as +entirely superfluous—in fact, those of a gentleman. +In addition, the shoemaker was the owner of the +house, and Maciej's employer.</p> + +<p>Apart from all this, however, the antagonism +revealed in their mutual relations was not deep-seated, +but in reality superficial. The shoemaker +grumbled at Maciej, and sometimes made fun +of him; but he always did it as if he were on +equal terms with him, observing the respect due +to a peasant of some standing—that is, he always +used the form "you," and not "thou," in addressing +him. Maciej usually received the shoemaker's +grumbling in silence, but sometimes +answered his taunts pretty sharply. Besides their +common fate and present equality in the eyes of +the law, other weighty reasons had an influence +in making bearable the relations between people +of different classes in one small room.</p> + +<p>In comparison with Maciej, the shoemaker +possessed intelligence of which the latter could +never even have dreamt. The shoemaker could +read, and—what gave him a special charm, and +no little authority in Maciej's eyes—he could +scrawl the eighteen letters of his Christian and +surname, although slowly, and always with +considerable difficulty. To Maciej's credit, on +the other hand, besides his physical strength—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +brute force which impresses even those who +are not lame—stood the fact that he took service +more from motives of comradeship than of necessity. +For he possessed capital of his own, having +made several hundred roubles, which were deposited +at present at the shoemaker's house. +Moreover—the most important thing of all—he +was a conscientious and honest man. When, +before knowing this, I asked the shoemaker in +conversation if he could trust Maciej completely, +since he lived alone with him and often left him +in the shop, he repeated my question with so +much astonishment that I at once realized its +thorough inappropriateness. He repeated it, and, +not speaking quickly, as usual, but slowly and +emphatically, he gave me this answer: "Maciej, +sir, is a man—of gold."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Immediately on my arrival the shop was closed +and we went into the house. A small table with +a chair on either side stood under the only window +of the little room. Close behind the chairs there +was a bed along one wall, and a small wooden +sofa along the other. A narrow opening opposite +the table led to the kitchen where Maciej lived. +We sat down to consult what to write. Not only +the shoemaker, but even Maciej, was in an extremely +serious mood; both evidently attached +no little importance to the writing of letters. +The shoemaker fetched from a trunk a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +parcel tied up in a sheet of paper, and, having +taken out the last letters from his wife and son, +handed them carefully to me. Maciej squeezed +himself into the kitchen, and did not return to +us. A moment later, however, his head with +the large red face—but his head only—showed +like the moon against the dark background of the +opening.</p> + +<p>"Why do you go so far away, Maciej?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Eh, you see, sir, it's not comfortable sitting +in there. I've knocked a bench together here +that's a bit stronger."</p> + +<p>The shoemaker mumbled something about +breaking the chairs, but Maciej busied himself +with his pipe and did not hear, or pretended not +to hear.</p> + +<p>We began to read the letters. The letter from +his wife contained the usual account of daily +worries, interspersed with wishes for his return +and the hope of yet seeing him. The letter from +his son, who had finished his apprenticeship as +journeyman joiner half a year ago, was sufficiently +frivolous. After telling his father that he was +now free, he wrote that, as he could not always +get work, he was unable to make the necessary +amount of money to buy himself a watch, and +he begged his father to send him thirteen roubles +or more for this purpose. I finished reading this, +and looked at the shoemaker, who was carefully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +watching the impression the letter was making +on me. I tried to look quite indifferent; whether +I succeeded to any extent I do not know, for I +did not look straight at him. But I was convinced +after a moment that my efforts had been +vain, for I heard the anxious question: "Well, +and what else, sir?" It was clear that his son's +letter was very painful to him, even more so than +I had supposed.</p> + +<p>"Here am I, trying and working all I can, so +that in case I return there may be something to +live upon and I mayn't have to beg in my old +age, and that fool——"</p> + +<p>We both began to remonstrate with him that +it was unnecessary to take this to heart, and that +his son was probably—in fact, certainly—a very +good lad, only perhaps a little spoilt, especially +if he was the only child.</p> + +<p>"Of course he is the only one, for I have never +even seen him."</p> + +<p>"How—never?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, really never; because—I remember it +as if it were to-day—it was five o'clock in the +evening. I was doing something in the backyard, +when my neighbour, Kwiatkowski, called out to +me from behind the wooden fence: 'God help +you, Stanisław, for they are coming after you!' +I only had time to run up to the window and +call out: 'Good-bye, Basia; remember St. Stanisław +will be his patron!' That's all I said. Basia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +was confined shortly after, but I didn't see her +again. So it was a good thing I said it, for now +there'll always be something to remember me by."</p> + +<p>"God be praised that it's so! but if it hadn't +been a son——"</p> + +<p>Maciej did not finish his sentence, however, for +the offended shoemaker began to reprimand him +sternly.</p> + +<p>"You are talking nonsense, Maciej, and it is +not for the first time! Does not the Church also +give the name of St. Stanisława? Besides, +though I am a sinner as every man is, couldn't +I guess that a word spoken at a moment like +that would carry weight with the Almighty? +Isn't everything in God's hand?"</p> + +<p>Maciej looked down, and a deep sigh was the +only testimony to the shoemaker's eloquence.</p> + +<p>Stanisław's explanation of the circumstances +lightened our task very much, and when he had +remembered that the mother never complained +of her son—on the contrary, was always satisfied +with him—we succeeded in calming his excessive +anxiety concerning the fate of his only child. +In order to settle the matter thoroughly, it +was decided to ask some responsible and enlightened +person to examine the lad as he should +think fit and to keep an eye on him in future, +reporting the result of the examination to the +father. This was arranged because the mother, +being a simple and uneducated woman, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +thought to be possibly much too fond of her only +son, and an over-indulgent and blind judge. The +only question was the choice of the individual—a +sufficiently difficult matter; this one had died, +that one had grown rich, the other had lately +taken to drink. We meditated long, and would +have meditated still longer, if finally the shoemaker +had not said firmly, with the air of a man +persuaded that he is speaking to the point:</p> + +<p>"We will write to the priest!" And when +Maciej, glad that the troublesome deliberation +was over—possibly, also, in order to regain his +position after having just said a stupid thing—hastily +supported this with, "Yes, the priest will +be best," I conceded to the majority.</p> + +<p>Certain difficulties arose from the fact that the +priest was not personally known to Światełki, +and that, as Maciej put it, "the priest couldn't +be approached just anyhow." These difficulties +were overcome by the business-like shoemaker, +who began by ordering a solemn Requiem Mass +for the souls of his parents, for which he sent +the priest ten roubles, and in this way commended +his son to the kind consideration of his benefactor.</p> + +<p>I began to write the letters, of which there +were to be three: to his wife, to his son, and to +the priest. In the course of my stay in Siberia +I had written so many similar letters that I had +gained no little facility in this kind of composition. +I therefore wrote quickly, only asking for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +a few particulars. The shoemaker crept from +the bed, on which he had hitherto been sitting, +to the chair standing by the table, and bending +over this followed the movement of my pen +attentively, ready to answer any questions. +Maciej cleaned out his pipe in silence. I finished +the letters, and proceeded to read them.</p> + +<p>Stanisław sent his wife fifty roubles. As he +retained a most affectionate remembrance of his +faithful Basia, loved her possibly more now than +twenty years ago, and could never speak of her +without deep emotion, the letter to her corresponded +to the feelings of his youth. He was +paler than usual as he listened to it, and he tried +to say something, but his lips trembled and the +words caught in his throat. When the reading +was finished, however, Stanisław wriggled in the +way peculiar to him, and, after blowing his nose +several times, finally articulated: "Now I will +sign." Having discovered his spectacles in the +table drawer and duly fixed them on his nose, the +shoemaker pointed to the place where the signature +was to be put, and began:</p> + +<p>"Es, tee." He had already opened his mouth +to pronounce the third letter, when the incautious +Maciej, who had behaved most properly while I +was writing, unexpectedly interrupted with:</p> + +<p>"If you would also——"</p> + +<p>He burst in with this, but of course did not +finish. The shoemaker laid down the pen, lifted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +his head high, so as to look through his spectacles +at Maciej—who without doubt was already regretting +his ill-timed remark—and said drily:</p> + +<p>"Maciej, you are hindering me."</p> + +<p>Maciej grew very red, and, naturally, did not +utter another word. The shoemaker finished +writing his name without further interruption, +and took out the money. In order to avoid +mistakes, he at once enclosed it with the letter in +an addressed envelope.</p> + +<p>However much Stanisław had wished during +our consultation to "pull the silly fellow's ears," +the letter to his son was indulgent rather than +stern. It was easy to guess what that yet unseen +son, the one hope of the old burgher family, was +to Światełki. He had worked perseveringly and +honestly for so many years, and had overcome +all kinds of difficulties; lonely and neglected, he +had passed victoriously through the temptations +to enrich himself easily with which Siberia beguiles +the unsuspecting novice. Doubtless he owed all +this in a certain degree to the honest principles +he had brought from his home and country, as +well as to his character, but, without any doubt, +equally to that son in whose very birth he saw +the Hand of God. It was clear that the poor +fellow dreamt of standing before his beloved child +as an ascetic dreams of appearing at the Judgment-Seat. +The thought that he would be able +to tell him—openly and fearlessly—"I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +nothing to bring you, my son, but a name unstained +by a past full of the gravest temptations," was +the lodestar of his life. Taking this into consideration, +therefore, I did not scold the "silly +fool," but explained to him in an affectionate way +what the money was the father was sending to +the family—money he had earned by working +extremely hard, and frequently by pinching himself. +I told the lad what he ought to be and +might become, being strong and healthy, and that +on this account his wish for money to spend on +trifles gave his father pain. I wrote large and +distinctly, adapting myself to the young joiner's +powers of comprehension, and at the end fervently +blessed him in his new walk in life.</p> + +<p>The reading of this letter was carried on with +constant interruptions, as I stopped to ascertain +if I had interpreted the father's feelings and +wishes rightly. From the beginning I was sure +that this was the case, and became all the more +certain of it as I read on. Each time I looked +at him inquiringly, Stanisław answered me hastily: +"Yes, yes, yes, that's just as I wanted it!" +But the farther I read the shorter and quicker +became the "Yes, yes." In the middle of the +letter, it is true, he opened his lips once more, +but I only saw that they were moving, for they +did not utter a sound. I looked up again: his +chin was resting on the table, and the tears were +flowing down his pale cheeks. He did not make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +the restless movements peculiar to him when his +feelings overflowed. He did not scrape his throat +or blow his nose. He merely rested his chin on +the table, and, sitting near me by the candle, +with its light falling upon him, he quietly cried +before us. He did not quiver or sob, but the +tears, which had certainly not flowed from those +hollow eyes for a long time, streamed from them +now. When he was calm he looked at me with his +large, intelligent eyes, and thanked me without +raising his head. "May the Lord repay you—may +the Lord repay you!" But Maciej, having +already expressed his satisfaction by ejaculations +and indistinct mumbling, now took courage at +a longer pause to make quite a speech.</p> + +<p>"H'm—that's fine! I've listened to lots of +letters, because in the gold-mines different people +wrote letters for me and others. And even here, +though Z—— no doubt writes very well, he writes +so learnedly, like a printed book, that you don't +understand a word when you listen to it. For he +puts in so many words folks don't use, you can +see in a moment that he comes from a Jewish +or a big family, and that he has never had much +to do with the people. Now, your letter goes +straight to one's heart, for it's human. Oh, +poor fellow! He'll cry like an old woman at a +sermon when he reads it. If you would also—but +I daren't ask"—and his voice sounded really +very shy—"if you would write a short letter like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +that to my people too, oh how my old woman +would cry,—she would cry!"</p> + +<p>While I read the letter to the priest, Maciej +kept quiet, listening and possibly also beginning +to consider what I was to write to his wife, if I +answered to the hopes he had placed in me. But +when I came to the passage in which I asked the +priest about the Mass for the shoemaker's dead +parents, there was a violent crash in the entrance +to the kitchen, and Maciej stood before us in all +his impressiveness. His appearance was so unexpected, +and made with so much noise, that we +looked at him in astonishment. Maciej was +strangely altered, and even seemed to me to be +trembling all over. He came out in silence, and +standing just in front of us, with his feet wide +apart as usual, he began to search for his pocket; +but whether it was difficult to find in the folds of +his baggy trousers, or whether for some other +reason, he was a long time about it. Having +found it, he drew out a small purse, and, after a +long process of untying, for which he also used +his teeth, he took out a crumpled three-rouble +note. He stood a while holding this. At last +he laid it on the table with a shaking hand, and +began in an imploring, broken voice:</p> + +<p>"If that's so—when he says the Mass, let +him pray for us unhappy folks too: write that, +sir. Let him pray to Almighty God and to the +Holy Virgin—if it's only to bring our bones back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +there—and perhaps—perhaps They'll have +mercy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps They'll have mercy," the shoemaker +repeated like an echo, as he stood beside Maciej.</p> + +<p>They stood before me—these two old men +grown grey in adversity—as small children stand +before a stern father, feeling their helplessness; +the lame shoemaker with the hollow eyes, leaning +on his stick, and that huge peasant with his hands +hanging down and head bowed humbly, imploring +this in a quiet whisper.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>We should certainly have sat there a long +while in painful musing if it had not been for the +shoemaker. Stanisław was the first to rouse +himself from the lethargy into which we had +fallen.</p> + +<p>"What the devil are we doing! Maciej, bestir +yourself! The sausages are burning in there, +and the brandy is getting stale! Eh, Maciej, +look sharp!"</p> + +<p>Maciej crept to the kitchen, and returned to us—not, +to say the truth, very quickly—preceded +by the smell of well-fried sausages. We shook +off our lethargy so slowly, however, that even the +brisk shoemaker had to make an effort to put a +good face on it. His first toast was, "The success +of the letters." To this Maciej responded with +"Amen," and a sigh which might have come from +a pair of blacksmith's bellows. The vodka did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +its work, however. Our recent emotion strengthened +its effect, and after two glasses even an +observant person would never have guessed what +we had thought and felt here a few moments +earlier, but for the letters lying in Stanisław's +trunk. The last vestiges of sadness were charmed +away by the little song which Stanisław began +to sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">"The splinters fall in showers</span><br /> +<span class="i4">Where woodmen trees are felling;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Oh, good and pretty children</span><br /> +<span class="i4">Are dear beyond all telling!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>But in his present cheerful frame of mind Maciej +protested energetically against even this slight +echo of sadness.</p> + +<p>"Eh! just you shut up about your children! +I've five of them, and I don't care as much for +them all together as you do for the one."</p> + +<p>The shoemaker evidently acknowledged the +justice of this bold remark, for he passed it over +in silence, and only proposed to Maciej with a +gesture to put on the samovar. Maciej did his +work in the kitchen noisily and cheerily. He had +completely forgotten about his favourite place, +"the little bench a bit stronger," and he returned +to us without delay. His voice, always absolutely +unsuited to the acoustic properties of the room, +now sounded as perhaps it once did in those years +on the fields of Mazowsze. When he spoke, it +was simply a shout, for he did not modify the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +intonation by any expression whatever. He +talked about his work, gesticulated, and waved +his arms; when obliged to stand up, he moved +suddenly, and the same when he sat down; he +became indignant, and retracted his words; he +squeezed his fingers together and spread them +out; but he did all this slowly and accurately, +just in the way he spoke. He said not a single +word nor related a single fact without supporting +and illustrating it by expressive mimicry, by a +movement or a pose, which he always tried to +make as near the original as possible. So when +I returned to his protests against the shoemaker's +sadness, and asked him: "Have you five sons, +Maciej?" he answered: "Five, like the five +fingers on my hand"; and, holding up his fist, he +carefully spread out his fingers one by one. He +laughed long and heartily at this, in the way that +only children laugh, his whole body shaking.</p> + +<p>But it was not only his laugh that was childlike; +Maciej's big broad face, portraying his +inward calm, reminded me of the face of a little +child whose thoughts have as yet not influenced +its features. In proportion to his height and +breadth Maciej's head seemed to me smaller than +it really was. His wide neck diminished it still +more. But when he sat down, resting his hands +on his knees in his usual manner, somehow his +head disappeared entirely, and then from behind +he was very like a pointed hayrick, while from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +the side he reminded me of those clumsy but +impressive figures which people of past ages cut +out in rocks and stone.</p> + +<p>The longer I looked at him, the stronger became +my wish to know this huge fellow rather better, +and to ascertain something more about him. I +therefore decided to profit by the occasion, which +possibly might not soon occur again, and to spend +the whole evening with the shoemaker.</p> + +<p>Maciej chattered tremendously; he talked bidden +and unbidden, and was even more loquacious than +I could have hoped. Although he talked disconnectedly, +with continual long digressions from +the subject, I listened to him with growing interest. +His anecdotes were chiefly about his life in the +gold-mines. However familiar that life was to +me from a number of different stories, I listened +to him patiently, for I was interested in the very +ticklish question of how he could have saved +together several hundred roubles in surroundings +where riches can always be accumulated, but +rarely in a legitimate manner.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I worked—slaved—in the gold-mines," Maciej +continued on his return from the kitchen. "At +first they put me to work underground, but the +inspector saw me, and called out, 'Who's that +huge fellow?' as if he'd never seen a big man +before, the low scoundrel! He was told: 'That's +Maciej, one of the Poles.' 'He's a good-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +Pole. Bring him here.' They sent for me, and +I came and took off my cap"—Maciej touched his +head. "But I didn't bow. Oh no! why should +I? 'What a blockhead! Where do you come +from?' he asked. 'Ha-ha! and where am I +likely to come from if not from Poland!' Afterwards +he asked again: 'Can you bake bread?' +'Is he making a fool of me, or what does he +mean?' I thought to myself, but I didn't let on, +and said: 'That's a woman's work, not a man's'—so +I explained to him; devil knows if he understood +or not! But he ordered them to take me +on as baker's assistant.</p> + +<p>"There just was drunkenness and thieving and +carrying on in the bakery! Good God! But I +didn't interfere; I just did what they said, and +they didn't tell me to superintend or look after +things. When my mates saw that I obeyed them, +and worked enough for two, and didn't meddle +with anything, they began to carry on worse than +ever. It was like a tavern for the drinking that +went on. The inspector came one, two, three +times: everyone in the bakery was drunk; I was +the only one at work and kneading the loaves of +bread. He looked and went away. He came +again the next day, and there was quite a battle +going on in the house; they were having a drunken +fight. He ordered them to be put into prison, +and he asked me again: 'Now you know how to +make bread; you've learnt it, haven't you?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +So I understood he wasn't joking, and laughed: +'Oh yes, I've learnt it,' I said.</p> + +<p>"He put me to be head baker. They dealt +out all the flour used in the bakery for the whole +week—and there was a lot used, for we baked for +more than two hundred people. So I did my +work, and weighed the flour to make it last out. +Scarcely was the week over, when the inspector +came again: 'Well, Maciej,' he said, 'have you +had enough flour?' I just said nothing, but took +him to the bakery and showed him what was +left—nearly three sacks. When he saw that he +opened his eyes ever so wide. 'Good! good!' +he said; and he called the storekeeper and told +him to make a note of how much was left, and to +save half of it and give me half as reward.</p> + +<p>"Now, in these gold-mines it just happens one +way or the other: sometimes such a lot of people +come you don't know where to put them, and +sometimes, when they start running away, there +aren't enough left even to go underground. And +that's how it was there: a lot of work, and too +few people to do it. First they took one man +away from me, and afterwards a second, and after +a week still more, so that I was left with one, +and then quite alone for a few days. I was +standing at the kneading trough and oven from +sunrise to sunrise. When the inspector saw that +I was without help, and the sweat was running +off my forehead, he called out: 'Vodka! Let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +Maciej have as much as he wants! Drink as +much as you like,' he said. I didn't stint myself; +but a single glass makes one bad enough, so half +a bottle was saved every day. This was my own, +and in this way I got nearly a rouble a day.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<p>"But whether by slaving like this, or what not, +I don't know how it was: anyway I got ill. My +feet and arms seemed paralyzed all at once; +dark spots came on my body, and my teeth got +all shaky, like keys in an organ. 'Take him off +to the hospital,' they said. The doctor said it +was scurvy. Whether or no, it was a fact I got +worse and worse. At last one of the miners +lying in the hospital, an old Brodiaga<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>, said to +me: 'Don't you pay any attention to them or +to the doctor, for they'll cure you for the next +world. Listen to good advice. Send someone +to the taiga for toadstools, fill a bottle with them, +and after it has been standing a certain time +and has got strong, drink a wineglass of it with +vodka every day.' I did just as he told me, and +after a week I was quite fit again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p><p>'Afterwards I saw the Brodiaga coming along. +I thought: 'He'll expect to be treated.' So I +stood treat for him. He said: 'Well, what did +you think of it?'</p> + +<p>"'I think it was a good trick, but I don't +want to do it a second time.'</p> + +<p>"'You're right,' he said. 'Have you ever +seen the cook draw the veins out of the meat +when he's getting the inspector's cutlets ready?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh yes! Rather!' I said.</p> + +<p>"'Now, you see, if you stop here, they'll draw +all the veins and all the strength out of you. +You've saved a little money; go away from here, +and don't look back.'</p> + +<p>"I left the hospital, and went to get my 'time.' +But it was a difficult business. 'Stop here,' +they said to me, 'stop here, and we'll raise your +wages.' And so on. But I didn't agree. 'Your +money is good, but dear,' I answered. The inspector +got very angry, and shouted, 'Ass!' +And they counted it out to me: I had got a round +sum of a thousand roubles, all but a hundred and +fifty."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Did you really drink that stuff, Maciej?"</p> + +<p>"A-ah! It was the first medicine I ever +took," he answered.</p> + +<p>But the shoemaker, understanding my incredulity, +set it aside by an excellent explanation:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No fear! Even two bottles of toadstools +wouldn't hurt a machine like that!"</p> + +<p>Maciej disapproved of the expression.</p> + +<p>"Am I a machine now? Why, you only see +half of what I was!"</p> + +<p>"Then, you were stouter formerly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! I tell you, I wasn't like this. What +do I look like now? A greyhound grown thin! +Is this an arm?" And he untwisted his shirt +sleeve and showed us an arm of which a leg might +have been jealous. "Is this a leg?" Drawing +his wide trousers tight, he looked piteously at his +leg measuring over a yard round. "I usedn't to +be like this," he ended with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Nothing could have given me more satisfaction +than these sighs. But a good beginning had +been made, for Maciej, who certainly very rarely +experienced the relief of unburdening himself, +was so excited that he required no stronger +incentive than that I should listen to him with +unfeigned interest. It was enough to repeat, +"What then? Just so! Really!" oftener and +more pressingly. Thus spurred on, each time +Maciej's "Ha, ha!" became louder and his face +redder, and when the samovar had boiled he +declined to obey the shoemaker and would not +pour out the tea.</p> + +<p>"Can I never have a talk? When do I ever +get a chance of speaking to anyone? You're in +the shop; you know what to do and how to talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +to people, but I don't. It's not only with those +who come here; I can't do it even with our own +people, I'm such a plain man. It's dull to be +alone, and I'm losing flesh; but there's no one I +can go to, for people get bored with me. The +master here understands every word I say, and +isn't surprised and doesn't laugh at anything. +I can talk to him like one of my own family, and +feel lighter at heart at once. Do pour out for +yourself. I don't want that stupid tea."</p> + +<p>Although shocked at this distinct subversion +of the order of society, the shoemaker allowed +himself to be mollified, and began to pour out +tea. Maciej, freed from one of his most trying +duties, became all the livelier.</p> + +<p>We both settled ourselves on the sofa. Maciej +was to tell me his past history from the beginning. +He was as red as a peony, but, strange to say, he +sat silent, and although I prompted him several +times with, "Well, and what next, Maciej?" he +did not speak. Yet his deep breathing showed +that this silence did not mean speechlessness. +On the contrary, it was thought slowly working +and stirring him to expression.</p> + +<p>Maciej sat upright, with his knees wide apart +and both hands resting on them. He sat thus +for some minutes, with eyes which seemed fixed +on the far distance; he sat motionless as though +he were already away in that distant scene which, +possibly, was opening before him. Yet, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +observed closely, his face was burning. I was on +the point of putting a more urgent question to +him, when Maciej, looking neither at me nor at +the shoemaker, began as follows:</p> + +<p>"You must have heard of a large river—it's +swift and black—they call it Narew? Not far +from that river there are three big villages, called +Mocarze.</p> + +<p>"I've seen many, many different villages, and +I've looked at many different people. I've seen +the big Tartar villages, and the Russian settlements, +as large as towns, and the villages on the +River Angara and behind Lake Baikal, and where +the Poles are so well off;<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> but nowhere, nowhere +have I seen villages like our Mocarze.</p> + +<p>"There isn't a thing you can't find there. +Everything's there. My God!" And Maciej +stretched out his arms.</p> + +<p>"And those meadows and fields and the hay timee! +Oh! those young oak-woods, and the +corn, too, like gold!</p> + +<p>"Here everything is big, but somehow it's +dreary. What can you see in the taiga? What's +there to enjoy in the fields? It's like a grave all +round you: a vulture crying above, a bear growling +in the taiga, and that's all the pleasure you get! +At home it's different.</p> + +<p>"There, if you go out in the morning through +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +the fields with the dew on them, and shout, it +sounds like a bell ringing in the open air. You +watch the cheerfulness of the animals, and listen +to the birds chirping on the ground and above, +and you feel cheerful too. And if you breathe +the air coming from those fields and meadows, +as if it came from a censer in church, you feel +its strength going into you. I've never felt so +strong anywhere as at sunrise at Mocarze, when +I used to say 'Good-morning!' to the sun. Here +the morning's no morning—there's no pleasure +in it; none of the birds or animals or people know +anything about it. At home it's different.</p> + +<p>"I've seen so many countries; I've been +through all this big Siberia, and a good bit of +the Lake Baikal country, but I've never seen a +country like ours anywhere. But I've learnt +that since being here. Yes, here! Am I the +only one? We've clever people at home—priests +and gentlemen and peasants with heads on their +shoulders—but none of them know what they +have!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Each of these villages called Mocarze has its +own name. They call the one that's the oldest, +Korzeniste; the second, Suche; and the third, +which is the newest, Mokry. I am from Mocarze-Suche.</p> + +<p>"It's a big village. Pan Olszeski was our +master, and we were his serfs. Everyone knows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +it's not very pleasant to be that. When I was +about twenty, Olszeski took me into his service +at the house.</p> + +<p>"He was a very quick-tempered man, yellow, +dry, and small—the very devil, I can tell you! +He wasn't really bad, only when he was angry; +but he got angry about everything, and then +he'd just be beside himself with rage—oh my +goodness! Yet not for long. He'd shout and +run up and down and get yellower still; but when +he'd finished you could say anything to him, and, +though he'd tremble, he'd listen and say nothing. +He was just. It can't be said that the young +men liked him, but the older ones—the farmers—always +told us: 'Don't take any notice of his +shouting; his bark is worse than his bite.' And +they were right. He never harmed and never +worried people; but this I only knew later. At +the time I only knew that Olszeski was bad-tempered, +and I feared him like fire, and—well, +every bad thing. But I don't know how it came +about; the farther I went from him, the more he +came after me. He was always at me, scolding, +cursing, and shouting. But I remembered what +my father had said: 'Don't take any notice of +his being angry, but remember that he's just'; +so I stood it—stood it and never said a word. +And I should have stood it longer if Olszeski +hadn't gone too far. But he said everything he +could think of against me, and at last, on purpose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +to wound my feelings, he began to call me a +'stupid great booby' and 'greenhorn.' Even +now I don't like to think about it. He happened +to come into the yard. Though I was at work, +and he didn't see me, and I ran away from him +like a hare from a dog, he at once began to shout: +'Eh, there! you stupid great booby, you greenhorn!' +His voice was like himself, thin and +shrill, and so penetrating it sounded like a whistle. +When he called me all those names I boiled over +with rage. It was only he who thought me +stupid, not my own people. There wasn't a +fellow in the village equal to me, either with the +fiddle at the inn or at the hardest field work. +For I never shirked work any more than play. +And I was so strong—I'm speaking seriously—not +as I am now; if there was ever anything +anyone couldn't do, Maciej did it.</p> + +<p>"And then to be insulted like that, and go on +standing it—why should I? So I thought, +'There's been enough of this, and I've had enough +of it, too! With God's help I'll show him I'm +not so stupid, and not such a booby.' I don't +know if I could do it now, but at that time there +wasn't a team I couldn't have held. When I +was holding them from behind, you could have +beaten the horses to death, they wouldn't have +stirred. I hadn't tried with the carriage horses; +the coachman wouldn't allow it. 'You'll get the +landau smashed, and I'm responsible,' he said.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +But I thought: 'Let come what may, I'll +try.'</p> + +<p>"It was a Sunday when he ordered the horses +to be put to, but not to go to church, for he was +driving alone, only to go to the town. He got +in, sat down, shut the door, and waited. He +liked the horses to start off at once at a sharp +trot. But I was behind. I put my feet wide +apart to stand firm. I took hold of the side +of the landau with one hand, and of the back +with the other. My heart was going like a mill, +for I was thinking: 'Perhaps I shan't be able to +hold horses in such good condition.' But you're +all right after the start. I gathered all my +strength together, and strained forward till my +joints cracked. The horses started—they started +once, twice, and—didn't move a step.</p> + +<p>"'Go on!' a shrill voice called out from the +landau, while the mistress and the young ladies +stood at the window waving their handkerchiefs.</p> + +<p>"'Go on, blockhead!' and his shrill voice went +into a squeak.</p> + +<p>"But the old coachman must have guessed +what was happening, for, when he saw the horses +didn't move, he didn't whip them, so that there +shouldn't be an accident. He didn't slash at +them, but turned to the master and said: 'How +can I start while Maciej is holding on?' Olszeski +jumped as if he'd been scalded, and trembled so +much he couldn't get his breath. The carriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +was half open, so he turned towards me, quite +green with anger, and looked me straight in the +face. But I held on, and when once I'd looked +at him I didn't take my eyes off him; my veins +swelled from holding on to the carriage, and the +blood went to my head. What I was like I don't +know, but my master looked and looked. I +thought: 'God knows what he'll do to me.' But +he must have understood, for he only laughed, +and said: 'How strong you are! How strong +you are! But now let go, Maciej.' I let go, and +the horses started off; I thought they would bolt."</p> + +<p>Maciej sat down tired, for he had been reproducing +the whole scene of holding back the carriage +as accurately as possible before us. He had stood +leaning sideways, had held the carriage with his +hand, been tugged at by the powerful horses, and +had looked his master threateningly in the face; +even his eyes had become bloodshot, and his +tightly clenched hands had swelled.</p> + +<p>If, wearing his clumsy "juntas,"<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> grey-headed, +bent, and but half his weight, he looked splendid +and threatening, if his eyes flashed now, what +must he have been like when he faced his master +in defence of his human dignity?</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"From that time," Maciej continued, after a +short pause, "my master was different. Not all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +at once, it's true; for at first he avoided me, and, +though he left off scolding, he never said a word +for a long time. I thought to myself: 'I'm in +for something worse; he's surely thinking out +something for me I shan't forget.' But no. He +began to talk to me, but always good-naturedly +and kindly, and a year hadn't passed before I +was high in his favour. If anyone had to be +sent out with money, or go with the mistress or +young ladies, no one might do it but Maciej; +and later, when he knew me, he didn't tell me: +'Don't get drunk, don't be too long, and don't +kill the horses'; he only said I was to go, and +everything he had ordered was as right as if it +had been written in a book. So he got fond of +me. I never heard a bad word from him all the +last years I was in his house. And I was very +happy. But though I was happy there, I had +my future to think of, too. Though my father +often talked of it, I myself certainly shouldn't +have troubled to get married in a hurry, and didn't +think much about it. For why think of anything +better when you're happy? And no one runs +away from happiness. There was work, but +there was plenty of fun.</p> + +<p>"What a happy time the harvest at home +used to be! And when our Mocarze fiddler +played at the inn on Sundays, even the old +people couldn't keep their feet still.</p> + +<p>"And our girls! Hah! There aren't such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +girls anywhere. For example, do you ever see one +like them here? When they were all together, +and you came up, they were like flowers—like the +lilies themselves. And when you heard them +tittering, 'Hi! hi! hi!' and saw their bright eyes +behind their aprons, you didn't know yourself +that you were calling out: 'Heh there! Go +ahead, you fellows! Now then, fiddler, strike up +something lively! Come along, my dear!'"</p> + +<p>Maciej was about to start off dancing, for he +burst out with the 'Heh there!' so energetically +that it set our ears tingling. But a scornful +remark of the shoemaker checked him.</p> + +<p>"They hid behind their aprons? What vulgar +foolishness!"</p> + +<p>Maciej, who had already started up, sat down, +but would not allow the shoemaker's words to +pass.</p> + +<p>"Vulgar? Everyone knows it's not like in a +town. But don't be disagreeable. Now, among +these girls the best-looking seemed to me——"</p> + +<p>"Kaśka?" interposed the shoemaker.</p> + +<p>"No, not Kaśka, but Marya. She was the +best girl in Mocarze, and though she had no +mother, and was alone at home, she was tidy +and hard-working, and everything round her was +clean.</p> + +<p>"In the field she always went at the head of +the mowers. She could always be seen when she +was standing in the corn, it never hid her. My<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +Marya was a fine girl, well grown, and red like a +poppy or cherries in the sun. And her body was +so healthy—it was as hard as a nut. When I +wanted to pinch her——"</p> + +<p>"Did you pinch her cheek?" the shoemaker +interrupted impertinently.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk bosh! Am I a gentleman, or do +I come from a town, that I should pinch a girl's +cheek, to say nothing of the girl being my Marya? +I pinched where we are all used to pinching the +girls——"</p> + +<p>The shoemaker was triumphant and smiled +ironically. Obviously this peasant did not know +the most elementary rules of genteel behaviour.</p> + +<p>"A girl like a turnip, I tell you," Maciej continued. +"Strong as my fingers are—but no—nothing +to be done—you couldn't pinch her, +anyhow.</p> + +<p>"I courted her, and it seemed to me that she +wasn't against it; for she was always looking at +me, and danced best with me. So I thought to +myself: 'I'll just see how I stand in this.' So +one Sunday evening I watched her going off to +the dance, and she had to climb over the fence +near the Wojciecks' cottage. I stood and waited +there. I heard her coming; I heard, because one +can always hear one's girl coming a long way off. +She came to the fence, lifted her foot, jumped +on to the other side, and was just going to hop +down, when I, who was watching all this, couldn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +stand it any longer; I ran up to the fence and put +my arm round her waist. You know, sir, there's +a song which ends:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">"'Maiden, turn not from me....'</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Well, I sang the song as I held her, and +wanted to kiss her. But I hadn't finished the +last words before she gave me such a slap between +the eyes that it quite blinded me, and before I +could take it in—thwack! she went on my jaw, +first one side and then another. 'So there's a +kiss for you, that's your kiss, you fine fellow! +You just keep away from me!' she shouted, and +thwacked and thwacked like a tadpole in the +water. My word! how she did go for me! I was +so taken aback I couldn't come to myself; I could +only feel my cheeks swelling from the blows, for +she was such a strong girl. At last she stopped +and sat down on the fence, and began to cry and +say:</p> + +<p>"'I never expected a disgrace like this from you, +Maciej. Am I just anyone, and not a respectable +farmer's daughter, that you should put yourself in +my way when I was coming across the fence?'</p> + +<p>"When she said this, I understood; still, I +wasn't able to come to my senses all at once, and +out it slipped: 'But why?' I said. It was just +as if I'd covered her with hot coals!</p> + +<p>"'Why? Why?' she cried. 'Are you a little +boy? Aren't you a farm labourer? You're a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +clever fellow, to begin courting and not to know +how to make up to a respectable girl! Well, if +you're such a fool, I'll tell you: the way to do it +is through one's parents!'</p> + +<p>"Now, that went to my heart so much I was +ready to cry like a calf. I asked: 'Will you +have me?'</p> + +<p>"'Are you cracked? Doesn't my father know +you?' she said.</p> + +<p>"'And you, Marya?' I said.</p> + +<p>"'Well, why not—of course, if father tells me.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' I thought to myself, 'a girl like that's +a good one; I'm lucky if I get her!' And, if I +hadn't been careful not to vex her again, I'd +have taken her into my arms once more. But +someone came along, and down she jumped and +ran to the dance; and back home I came, for my +cheeks were as swollen as the white loaves father +sometimes brought back from the fair at Lomza. +I didn't have any supper, I went straight to bed; +but the next day I went to my parents and told +them all about it, and asked them to arrange the +match at once. They were surprised I was in +such a hurry; but I was obstinate, and begged +for it. The worst was to know how it would be +about the master. But it was no use, I couldn't +do it without him; so I went and asked him, and +he was very kind to me. He set me free from +his service, and gave me a field ready sown as a +start, and a farm of twenty acres.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We put in our banns, and had a wedding such +as the oldest people in Mocarze didn't remember. +For though my parents and her parents weren't +so very rich, they were well-to-do farmers; and +as to the drink, the master gave that. We did +dance and all enjoy ourselves!"</p> + +<p>Maciej stopped abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Those seven years I lived with my wife were +the only ones in which I have really lived," Maciej +began again slowly and emphatically, as though +weighing each word. "Marya was a wonderful +girl, but she was a still better wife.</p> + +<p>"A child was born almost every year about +Christmas time. But she never had any trouble +with it, for she could have nursed three at once. +They were all boys, and they are all as like me +as peas in a pod."</p> + +<p>The sadness we could hear in Maciej's voice, +and the way in which he paused, showed that the +bright part of the story was now nearly ended.</p> + +<p>"The home was clean and tidy, both the food +and clothes," Maciej added in a measured tone. +"And as to the farm, there's no need to speak +of that, either. I was successful all round; I +only wanted the moon!"</p> + +<p>Maciej became silent, and somehow we felt that +with his last words the golden thread of his life +had snapped. We felt that as the story went on +it would be different, and we longed for it to +continue as it had been. Therefore, although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +knowing it to be vain, we deceived ourselves by +the hope that we should still hear a merry laugh, +and watch the continuance of that tranquil life, +though, maybe, only for a moment longer. But, +rocked by memories, Maciej let his head fall on +his broad chest, and remained mournfully silent. +Possibly he was chasing the last gleams of those +brighter days which had disappeared without +return, or possibly, as he looked, the days of fear +and pain emerged from the twilight of the distant +past.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The snowstorm was raging outside, and the wild +howling of the wind could be heard distinctly now +in the quiet of the little room. Suddenly it gave +a louder moan, and shook the shutter as though +trying to blow it off its hinges. Maciej must have +heard this, for he raised his head, and, as if to put +an end to his own thoughts, spoke at last.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps everything might have been the +same to-day, if it hadn't been for that misfortune.... +If it hadn't been for that misfortune," +he repeated slowly, as we both instinctively +moved closer to him to comfort him.</p> + +<p>"But directly the storm<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> broke out life became +different in our village. All the strong young +fellows went off, and I shouldn't have kept at +home either, if the master hadn't said: 'No; +what has to be done there can be done without +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +you, and you can be useful here.' Well, he knew +better than I did; so I stayed. Yet at first +Marya and I both thought: 'Why is he keeping +me here?' for I was sitting doing nothing for +weeks. But suddenly one night, just before it +got light, there was great excitement in the +village. Some horsemen came riding up, people +began to tear about, and there wasn't time to +say two Paternosters before it was all round the +village: 'They're coming! They're coming!' +How the news spread so quickly, just like a cry, +Lord only knows! But as it spread, every single +living thing was on its feet at once, and rushing +out into the road. Only a few had time to dress, +and most people ran out as they were, in their +shirts.</p> + +<p>"Then the master sent for me. I was always +at work from that time, and it was rare for me +to spend a night at home. I knew all the country +for ten miles round, so, if anything was wanted, +it was I who had to go everywhere. With or +without a letter, on horseback or on foot, I was +on the trot for whole days and nights, taking and +bringing messages, or acting as guide to someone. +I could scarcely come home and sit down to supper +before the master knocked at the window; I put +a bit of bread and cheese in my coat pocket, and +off I set. Marya cried to herself, and she very +rarely missed going to Mass. But God took care +of me. I didn't like riding, because horses easily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +came to grief under my weight; it was better for +me to walk.</p> + +<p>"So half a year passed. I remember coming +back from my last journey. I had been crossing +a bog in the wood that only anyone knowing the +way could get through. But I came through it, +and stayed at home a day—in fact, two—and +they didn't send for me from the house. I waited +a third, and nobody came.</p> + +<p>"'What's the matter? Is he ill, or what's +up?' I asked the household servants.</p> + +<p>"'No,' they said, 'he's out walking and +driving; but he isn't like himself, for he's even +stopped shouting.' I asked again: 'Didn't he +send for me?' 'No,' they said, 'he didn't send +for you.' What had happened? I couldn't get +clear about it. Marya was glad—like a silly +woman. 'Ah!' she said, 'you've become such +a gadabout, you don't like being at home now!' +But when I said to her, 'Shut your mouth, +Marya, or I'll shut it for you!' she saw there was +no joking, and stopped talking. On the fourth +day I couldn't stand it; I dressed and went to +the master's house. In spite of having been +allowed to go to the master's room at any time +of day or night all that half-year, I went into +the kitchen, and let him know that I had come.</p> + +<p>"He called me in, and I went in and bowed, +but he was a bit strange. He seemed cross, and +was walking about, searching for something among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +his papers, and didn't look at me when he spoke +to me. So far he had always looked straight +at me when he said anything, and then I had +understood. This time he didn't.</p> + +<p>"'Well, well, Maciej,' he said, 'what have +you to tell me?'</p> + +<p>"I was very much surprised, for what should +I have to tell him? But since he asked, I said: +'I've come to see if there are any messages to be +taken, sir.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' he answered the same way as before. +'I was just thinking of sending for you. There's +a letter to be taken to Korzeniste.'</p> + +<p>"He sat down, wrote it, and gave it to me.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't pleased, for I knew there was nothing +going on at Korzeniste; but, on the other hand, +I thought it was stupid of me, for how should I +know everything? So, though this didn't seem +to me to be right, I felt cheered up. I took the +message quickly, and came back and asked when +he wanted me to come again.</p> + +<p>"'Oh,' he said, 'there's sure to be nothing +urgent now; and if there is, I'll send for you.'</p> + +<p>"Again he didn't look at me as he said this, +and seemed strange. That hurt me, for I knew +that he was sending people on errands whom he +never used to send. But I daren't speak; I went +and waited.</p> + +<p>"And I waited again for several days; no news +of the master. I didn't leave my farm during<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +that time, for truth's truth, and through my +always being away there was a lot to do at home. +I tidied up my clothes and went to see people.</p> + +<p>"On Saturday evening I went to the inn. +When I passed the Wojciecks' cottage where the +fence is, some people were standing at the corner +of the house. They didn't see me coming. I +came near, and heard them talking quite loud. +When I got nearer and they saw me, they looked +at each other, and not another word was spoken. +I said, 'Christ be blessed!' but only Jedrek +mumbled, 'In Eternity!'<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> I thought they were +perhaps talking about something among themselves, +so I passed on.</p> + +<p>"It was the same at the inn. There was a +noise going on there, because it was the day +before a festival, and, as is usual then, there were +a lot of peasants sitting drinking vodka or beer. +When I went in, they looked at me and there was +silence in a moment, just as if the word had been +given for it. I paid no attention, I came in, sat +down, and ordered my glass; but I saw that +people didn't talk to me as if I belonged to them. +'What's up? Good Lord! is it because I've +worked for the master, or what?'</p> + +<p>"But they've always known that; and they +also know that, though I've served under the +master, I was really working for another reason; +they've known that a long time, and it's never +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +been like this before. So it must be something +else.</p> + +<p>"I went home quite upset. When Marya +looked at me, she saw in a moment that there +was something wrong, and began at once, like a +woman does: 'What's the matter, my dear? +tell me what it is.' I saw she was thinking—Lord +knows what; so I told her: 'People won't +speak to me as they used to; why, I don't know.' +And I told her about it. Then Marya clasped +her hands, and said: 'I know whose fault it is: +no one's but that scoundrel Mateus.' Now, +Mateus was my elder brother, and though there's +a proverb, 'The apple falls near the tree,' this +time it wasn't true; for neither my parents nor +grandparents were that sort, and he was nothing +more nor less than a scoundrel. I asked: 'How +is it his fault?' 'It's his fault,' Marya said. +'People speak badly of him; not to my face or +to our family, but I and my father have heard +them say: "They are always off in different +directions." And others say: "Honour among +thieves"; what Maciej hears at the house<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> +Mateus sells to the German colonists or to the +Jewish bailiff; and so on.' I didn't listen to +any more; my hair stood on end.</p> + +<p>"I asked: 'Why didn't you tell me this before?' +and lifted up my hand to strike her. But Marya +pulled me up.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> +<p>"'Are you mad?' she said, 'shouting as if +you were possessed! I wanted to speak to you +before, but you always told me to shut my mouth. +Have you forgotten?'</p> + +<p>"I felt quite weak, and my feet trembled as if +they were coming off. I couldn't stand.</p> + +<p>"'But, good Lord!' I said, 'that can't be true! +Even if it were, is one brother to answer for +another, or a father for his son?' I couldn't sleep +all night; all sorts of thoughts kept coming into +my head. I made up my mind I would go to +church next day. I prayed, but I could understand +nothing. I didn't dare to go up to the +house, but hoped God would help me.</p> + +<p>"When I went to church I didn't stop or look +at people. I prayed all through the Mass, and +got calmer, and made up my mind to go to my +brother and ask him what he was really doing. +However, I noticed people looking at me when +church was over, as they'd watch a wolf. As I +went across the cemetery near a crowd of boys, +I heard such bad things being said that again +my feet trembled. 'Oh, my God, save me!' I +thought, and daren't look up. I came home. +My father was there. I told him all this: Mateus +was disgracing us; should I go and speak to him?</p> + +<p>"'You ought to have done it long ago,' my +father said. 'But be careful, for devil knows +what he'll do to you!'</p> + +<p>"'He can't do worse than he's done,' I said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +and went. I crossed myself with holy water. I +really had to shout at Marya, for she clung to me +like a tipsy man to a fence. 'Don't go, don't +go! may the dogs eat him!' she said. 'If people +don't know it already, they'll soon see that you've +no dealings with him.' I went, and after saying, +'Christ be blessed!' I said at once:</p> + +<p>"'I've business with you, Mateus; I want to +talk to you.'</p> + +<p>"'All right,' he said.</p> + +<p>"'It's business I want to have a good talk to +you about privately, and at once.'</p> + +<p>"He looked confused, and plainly guessed what +it was, for he said:</p> + +<p>"'Let's go into the backyard.'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly not into the backyard,' I said; +'there are people about there, looking. Let's go +into the field.'</p> + +<p>"When I said this to him he looked askance +at me, and I'm sure he thought something bad +was up, for he said:</p> + +<p>"'All right, but sit down and wait a moment. +I'm going into my neighbour's, and shall be back +before long.'</p> + +<p>"He really came back at once, and we went +behind the stackyard into the field. There was +a wood at the edge of the field. As we went +through the stackyard, we found Walek standing +behind the barn—he was a great friend of my +brother's—a disagreeable fellow. When my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +brother saw him, he smiled to himself in a nasty +way. A shudder went through me: 'It's plain +that what people say is true,' I thought, and went +along depressed, and didn't speak because Walek +was with us.</p> + +<p>"'Well, Maciej, say what you have to say,' +Mateus said, and looked at me as if he were making +fun of me and were quite sure of himself.</p> + +<p>"That made me feel worse, and I went along +with them sadder still. We came like that to +the wood, and there my brother began to talk +very fast. I remember every word.</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' he said, 'you wanted to talk to me; +but I see it's I who'll talk to you. Perhaps,' he +said, 'it's as well you've come to me; just listen +to good advice. It's plain you're not doing +yourself much good with all this running about, +for I hear you run round the master's house like +a dog. Now, I can fix you up in a business +which will bring you in more than two years' +wages. The German colonist——'</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear any more, and it's plain he didn't +look at me when he said this; for if he'd looked, +the idiot! he'd have run away. The blood rushed +to my head, left it, and rushed back again. I +roared like a wild beast, and sprang on them. +I couldn't speak, but I had terrific strength. I +twisted his hands together on to his back with +my left hand, as if they were string, took him by +the middle, and lifted him up. Walek's hand I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +squeezed so hard that the bones cracked, and he +stood there as lifeless as a stone.</p> + +<p>"I let him go, and took my knife, which I +always carried in the leg of my boot, and handed +it to Walek. 'Hit here!' I shouted, and held +Mateus' left side towards him. He had to strike. +The knife was sharp, and went in up to the handle. +The blood poured out in a stream.</p> + +<p>"They took me up the very next day.</p> + +<p>"'Was it you?' they asked.</p> + +<p>"'Yes.'</p> + +<p>"'Why did you do it?' they asked. I told +them. They didn't ask any more; I was condemned +for life."</p> + +<p>I looked at Maciej. He was as pale as a corpse, +whiter than the white wall against which he was +sitting. He did not move his hands, but his +fingers twitched convulsively.</p> + +<p>I felt sorry that I had induced him to live +through that terrible scene once more, and looked +into his eyes, reproaching myself. But as I +looked I turned pale myself; his eyes were pure +and bright as a spring of water, calm and innocent +as the eyes of a child.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The northerly gale raged outside, whirling the +snow round impetuously. I had a feeling of +horror as I returned through the solitary miserable +streets to my empty house on the bank of the +Lena, The wild gusts of wind echoed from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +taiga and the mountains surrounding it with +dreadful groans, and I ran through the snowdrifts +pursued by those groans.</p> + +<p>But also indoors it was a terrible night for me. +The gale howled round the walls with increasing +fury, the taiga groaned more and more sadly. +And when I sprang from my bed and wearily +pressed my burning forehead to the frozen window-pane, +listening to that wild voice unconsciously, +I heard those groans issue from the taiga as if +pursued by the fiercest gusts of the storm, and +mingle in one imploring groan: "Oh, Most High, +Most Holy, forgive!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> +<h2>TWO PRAYERS</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> ADAM SZYMAŃSKI<br /><br /> + + +I.</div> + +<p>Long ago, very long ago—or so it seems to me, +for I see those days now as through a mist—for +the first time in my life I heard a fine men's choir +singing in unison in one of the largest churches +of Podlasia. The church was filled to overflowing +with a compact mass of human beings, who joined +in the chants which streamed from the choir +like burning lava. Loud at first, their voices +passed into sobbing until they died into a low +and yet lower groan, imploring and scarcely +audible.</p> + +<p>My small body shivered as with fever. I +pressed my burning forehead to the cold floor +and folded my hands, stretching them out to God +and begging Him to quiet the sorrowful sounds +which were tearing my childish heart; I prayed +that those people in the choir might sing less +sadly, and that they might feel brighter and +happier. "Have mercy, have mercy, Lord," I +repeated with so much faith and confidence that +I held my breath and waited after each appeal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +for the sound of a voice like thunder, which +would smother the prayers and painful groans, +so that the joyful Christmas hymn or the triumphant +Easter "Allelujah" might flow from the +choir with healing balm upon the crowd of praying +people. The last sobs were hushed; the last +sighs of a thousand breasts fell with a deadened +echo from the high vaulting on to the bowed +heads praying below, and oppressed the suppliants +with a sense of universal pain. Bent to +the ground, they humiliated themselves almost to +extinction. I was not conscious of those many +bent heads, but only of their eyes, which, fixed +on the figure of Christ, were addressing a last +prayer to Him.</p> + +<p>The faintest echo of prayers and sighs was lost +in the deep vaulting; dead silence—an awful +silence—reigned throughout the church; it seemed +as if all the prayers of a thousand faithful worshippers +had been brought before a void, were +dissolving into nothingness, and perishing—unheard.</p> + +<p>The awe of such a moment is terrifying, and +the soothing strains of music alone make it +endurable. Those tightened lips were silent, and +the bruised hearts raised no sigh; but soft tones, +resembling human voices, were floating above +amid the vaulting, and descended faintly through +the heavy atmosphere.</p> + +<p>The lifeless organ had become animate under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +the touch of human fingers, and the crowd of +worshippers, hearing their own supplications as +if rising from a stronger heart than theirs, were +soothed by the musician's skill. Imploring and +praying with fresh confidence, they were strengthened +by renewed faith, until at length tears came, +and in those tears they found relief.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the choir had been waiting for +this moment, for scarcely were the tears seen on +the people's faces before it sent forth another +moving entreaty, and all hearts burnt with fresh +ardour.</p> + +<p>Once again the people groaned and prostrated +themselves, weighed down by the load of sighs +drawn from their aching hearts.</p> + +<p>I groaned with them. I prayed still more +fervently, stretching out my hands more beseechingly +to the stern God. I held my breath +still longer, always expecting a visible miracle. +But God was silent, and my childish hopes were +shattered.</p> + +<p>The choir led the people in a new and still +more ardent prayer.</p> + +<p>"O God, my God, when will this dreadful +praying end?"</p> + +<p>I felt my strength was failing me, and that to +pray thus any longer would be impossible. I +clung to my dear father, who was praying beside +me, hoping he would soothe me, as was his way. +But my father did not see me, although he bent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +down to me, for his eyes were full of tears, and +I only heard his heated whisper:</p> + +<p>"Pray, my child; pray, dear boy, and never +forget this wonderful prayer!"</p> + +<p>So I prayed once more, concentrating all my +thoughts and feelings in this one prayer. The +perspiration stood in large drops on my forehead; +I held my breath still longer, and waited—waited +in vain! God was silent. But the choir raised a +fresh entreaty.</p> + +<p>"O God, my God, why art Thou so long in +hearing us?"</p> + +<p>It was so hot and close; a terrible sensation +came over me now. My head seemed on fire; +the singing of the choir, the sound of the organ, +the human groans and sighs, all mingled in a +chaotic whirr in my ears. This whirr passed +gradually into a measured peal, commencing +slowly, becoming quicker later, at first near, then +farther off, resembling the flapping of a large +bird's wings. The grey smoke of the incense +reddened before my eyes. It flashed into my +weary mind that our prayers could not reach God. +I looked up and flung myself into my father's +arms. There, above—it seemed to me—like birds +assembling for their autumn flight, but confined +by the high vaulting of the church, the human +prayers were circling and clamouring. Streaks +of sunlight were penetrating the narrow church +windows, and all the bitter human groans and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +pain and tears were beating their wings against +them—pressing towards the sun.</p> + +<p>"Father! father! let us go outside to pray—there, +in the sunshine! God Almighty will hear +us there, and nothing will hinder our prayers."</p> + + +<div class="center">II.</div> + +<p>The winter of 18— began unusually early in X——, +as in all parts of the Yakutsk district. Already +by the end of August the night frosts had shrivelled +and blackened foliage of every kind, depriving +it of its natural beauty. The broad stretch of +valley in which the town lay now looked barer +than usual; only miserable yurta were to be seen, +no large buildings, nothing even distantly approaching +the populous villages in Poland, which +are so cheerful in autumn. During that early +although short autumn I was attacked for the +first time by home-sickness in all its dread +severity.</p> + +<p>Halfway through November the famous "sorokowiki"<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> +began, which frequently last without +interruption for two months. But the malady +to which I had fallen a victim had developed +rapidly and completely worn me out a long +while before the "sorokowiki" came. Being a +novice in such matters, I did a number of things +which in themselves are not unwise, and are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +practised by experienced men, but only to a very +limited extent. All who have suffered from +nostalgia carefully avoid everything which may +bring about a return of the malady; they talk unwillingly +of their past, are obstinately silent when +their native country is mentioned, and in public +show a strange, incomprehensible indifference to +all that should be dear to them. Of course, this +indifference is assumed. At first I did not understand +this strange fact. But later on, when I had +been there longer, I realized that people who were +seemingly hardened and indifferent were sheltering +their suffering hearts beneath a breast-plate +of despair, and that they were continuing their +existence in the world by a great effort. I understood +that this indifference is a form of heroism—an +unassuming form, it is true, as heroism shown +in misery always is, but heroism nevertheless.</p> + +<p>People of all ranks and positions cover themselves +here with this shield of indifference and +assumed forgetfulness, some with more consciousness +of what they are actually doing, and with +more perseverance, others with less. But, among +the seemingly indifferent, without question those +most remarkable for strength of will are the +peasants. It needs a long, long time before a +spark can be kindled from the deep grief of a +peasant; but when the fire has broken out it +burns so fiercely that a man either hides from the +glare or stares in dismay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<p>I had struggled with this severe illness for some +months already and by the time Christmas Eve +came I was straining after everything that recalled +home, with the unhappy perversity with which +a drunkard's thoughts run on spirits, or the +thoughts of a lunatic on his mania. A letter received +some days beforehand enclosing the symbol +of Christmas, the wafer broken into small pieces,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> +had poured oil on the fire. I had read that letter +through countless times, and as I now ran to and +fro in my room, like a squirrel shut up in its +round cage, I was no longer thinking of the letter +alone. I had drunk all the poison of memories +which the past sleepless nights had called forth +in feverish haste without a moment's respite, +and my harassed and exhausted imagination +could go no farther. The day which had awakened +so many remembrances and brought me so much +suffering had come. My only desire was to +spend the evening in such a way as to drain the +cup of treacherous sweetness to the dregs, and +surround myself with an atmosphere which would +revive the irrevocable past—if but for a moment +and but remotely—and would suggest new and +actual pictures to nourish my exhausted imagination; +although these might be of the coarsest, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +they would give it food for new visions, fresh +hallucinations.</p> + +<p>There were some hospitable Polish houses in +X—— at the time, and Christmas was being celebrated +in one or two of them. Yet I could not +bring myself to go to any of them. It can easily +be conjectured that on this day I wished to +break away from the oppressive bonds of conventionality, +and to spend Christmas Eve beyond +the border-line of "society."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Imagine yourself walking in the evening, when +there is a hard frost, through the empty streets +of X——, and coming to the end of Cossack +Street; you would then find yourself at a point +whence the smaller part of the town stretches +far away before you. The old mud-choked riverbed +separates it just at that spot from the principal +part. If the frost is very bitter, you will remain +there with all the greater pleasure to enjoy the +sight in front of you. A number of little lights, +bright or pale, strong or flickering, are continually +visible here, even through the mist of snow. In +an uninhabited and desolate country the sight +of any fair-sized colony is so attractive that I +never once walked this way without feasting my +eyes on so visible a proof of man's strength and +vitality. I knew every house there: near at hand +the brightly lighted houses of the richer tradesmen +and officials; farther off the Cossacks' houses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +like yurta; still farther the house of the shoemaker +and church clerk, and Jan Piętrzak's +forge; still farther, scarcely visible through the +frozen panes, the feeble little lights from the +Yakut yurta; and beyond them—the end of +life, a boundless snowy space.</p> + +<p>Oh, how cold it must be there! And how forsaken, +how powerless a man feels amid those +plains banked up with snow, glistening with ice, +darkened by gloomy taiga, and exhaling cold, +cold, and only cold!</p> + +<p>Well do I remember how I trembled and my +heart beat more quickly when I stopped on the +hill, as usual, some weeks before Christmas, +and noticed for the first time a very small fire +shining through the foggy light from the desolate +space which commenced beyond the Yakut yurta. +It disappeared, and showed again. Good God! +was it a phantom? I could not believe my own +eyes, and rubbed them once or twice. But there, +remote from human dwellings, this lonely fire +flickered in the distance more and more distinctly. +I stood for a long while before I guessed that this +solitary firelight was shining from the horrible, +execrated house, the house the inhabitants of +the place avoided in fear. People had died from +smallpox in it some years before, and to-day any +of the local townsmen would sooner die than enter +it. I could not guess in the least, therefore, who +had dared to light a fire there at night. A Yakut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +was just passing me, so I stopped him, and, +explaining what I wanted as well as I could, I +asked if he knew how there came to be a fire in +the old hospital. The Yakut listened attentively +as long as he did not understand what I was asking. +But as soon as he began to take it in he started +back several steps, and when at last he thoroughly +grasped it he tore off his cap, screamed out in an +inhuman voice, "Kabýs abasà!"<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> and fled terrified.</p> + +<p>The next day I learned that the plague-stricken +house was permanently inhabited by some Poles, +people without a roof to shelter them and with +nothing to look forward to. From time to +time people whose misfortunes deprived them of +other shelter also took refuge there for a short +time.</p> + +<p>In this way a small colony had formed in the +desert solitude beyond the town, whose members +were of two sorts, permanent and temporary. +During the last few weeks I had been a frequent +guest in this lonely little colony, and now, after +some deliberation, I decided to spend Christmas +Eve there.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>I set out about five o'clock, relying on the +kindness—or unkindness—of the frost, which, +if it had sent out its murderous "chijus," could +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +have completely upset my plans by driving me +to the nearest acquaintance's house. But, fortunately +for me, although the frost was fiendish, +it was as silent as the grave. The terrible "chijus" +had not yet left its Polar hiding-place, and the +air was absolutely still. Thanks to this circumstance, +I reached the place unharmed.</p> + +<p>The echo of my footsteps, with the creaking +snow under my boots, played sharply and shrilly +round the two unheated rooms through which I +was obliged to pass in order to reach the inhabited +part of the house. It seemed to be even colder +here than out of doors. The windows were +boarded up. But although in the impenetrable +darkness I hit against fragments of pots and other +useless lumber at every turn, and they tumbled +about or broke with a crash, though the door +grated on its rusty hinges, none of the people +living there even looked out or paid any attention +to it. At last I came into the inhabited part of +the house.</p> + +<p>It was not much lighter in the large room than +in those through which I had just passed. A +thin tallow candle on a shoemaker's low bench +barely lighted one corner of the room. Two +people were working at the bench.</p> + +<p>The one sitting nearer me, a tall thin man, +unmistakably a born shoemaker, was knocking +wooden pegs into a sole with an expert and sure +hand. He had not been long in the town, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +he already had plenty of work, and would be +certain not to remain long in this solitude.</p> + +<p>The second, sitting farther off, a handsome +man, was considerably shorter than Pan Józef. +He was planing and polishing a heel, but slowly, +without that deftness with which Pan Józef +worked. One glance at the short shoemaker's +face would have been enough to convince the +most ardent opponent of all theories on heredity +that this man had not always sat at a cobbler's +bench.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Pan Jan Horodelski had +once been a medical student; later ... but what +he was later could not be told in two evenings. +He had now been a shoemaker for five years, and, +to speak the candid truth, a drunken shoemaker. +His bad habit did not allow him even to think +of carrying on business for himself; he therefore +wandered round to all the local workshops, using +other people's tools, and finding life very hard. +Each master took a large percentage for the tools, +and it is probable that Pan Józef charged him +no less than other masters did.</p> + +<p>His spirit had once been proud and audacious, +but life had bruised it and trodden it into the +dust. Some souls emerge thence not only beautiful +and noble, but even strong. Horodelski had +not that strength which braves all storms, and +was now a permanent inhabitant of this solitude. +His days were numbered; the intellect and knowledge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +he once possessed made him now fully +conscious of his condition and filled up his cup +of bitterness, the depth of which was known only +to himself.</p> + +<p>It was either the seal of death on his forehead, +or possibly other and deeper reasons, which gave +his face its particular expression. I said before +that it was the face of a very handsome man, and +I ought to add that it also expressed that gentleness +and tenderness which belongs essentially to +feminine beauty, and that it was stamped with +indescribable sadness. He varied a good deal in +his behaviour; his way of expressing himself and +his manners frequently betrayed the influence of +the surroundings in which he had been living for +long past. Frequently—though not always—he +could control himself, however, and then there +appeared on his face a new sign of the manhood +not yet completely crushed—namely, a blush of +shame at his present position.</p> + +<p>The shoemakers, as became busy men, did not +even move on their stools when I entered. I +therefore took off my things and brushed away the +hoar-frost in silence, and it was only when I +went up nearer to them that they both raised +their bent heads, welcoming me with a friendly +smile. As he was holding his pegs in his teeth, +Pan Józef was able to offer me his hand, dropping +it again immediately with a mechanical movement, +and murmuring something indistinctly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +Horodelski, after giving his greeting, looked at +the heel, still unfinished, and, setting the boot +on the ground, exclaimed with a sigh: "Well, +that's finished!"</p> + +<p>This was his favourite expression.</p> + +<p>"What's finished?" I asked, however.</p> + +<p>"Everything," came the equally stereotyped +answer.</p> + +<p>"Except the heel," Pan Józef muttered, taking +the last peg from his teeth.</p> + +<p>"It's possible the heel may get done too—that +is, of course, if I don't leave this cursed +ruin and go back to the church clerk," Horodelski +answered quickly.</p> + +<p>"Are you uncomfortable here, or what's up?" +chaffed Pan Józef. "The Lord be praised, it's +a good workshop, there are enough tools—and +rooms, too; if you like, you can dance a quadrille."</p> + +<p>But Horodelski did not listen, and continued:</p> + +<p>"Yes, it may very possibly be that I shall give +up shoemaking, if only for as long as I stay with +the clerk. I shall leave it just because this shoemaker +has made it as clear as day to me that I +am no good at my trade, and can only be assistant +to a bungling clerk."</p> + +<p>Pan Józef tittered, highly pleased, and was +just preparing to answer suitably, when a grave +bass voice interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"You may go to the clerk or not, but you'll +never be a shoemaker."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + +<p>The bass voice came from a dark corner of +the same room. I therefore looked more attentively +in that direction.</p> + +<p>On a low plank bed, with his head bent forward, +and emptying his pipe, sat a stalwart peasant, +known as Bartek the Shepherd.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" I asked, greeting the speaker.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Bartek answered. "Because no +one can escape his destiny. A dog can't become +a bitch, nor a woman a man."</p> + +<p>"That is quite a different matter."</p> + +<p>"So you'd think; but it's really all the same. +Take me, for example. No one could say of me +that I'm work-shy, yet nothing I have to do with +ever comes off. And why?—Why? Because I'm +not at my own work. So though I work and +don't drink, I'm wasting like sheep in rough +weather. I'm already more like a dog at a fair +than a man,—only there's no fair. I saw that +from the moment I came here. For isn't it a +queer thing that a land like this, with rivers like +the sea, mountains as big as the Łysia Góra at +home, meadows with grass up to your middle, +should have no sheep! Our shepherds are wise +men; they can bewitch you and free you from +spells, and have remedies for this and that; yet +if you told them that in all this big country there +are no sheep, they wouldn't believe you."</p> + +<p>Bartek was a temporary inhabitant of this +desert solitude. He was a very respectable man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +but a kind of fatality hung over him; he was +industrious and honest, yet he had never been +able to find an occupation in which he could display +his qualities and draw attention to himself. +He had come here not long beforehand, attracted +by the promises of some emigration agents. +The promises had not been fulfilled, and Bartek, +taking advantage in the meantime of this shelter, +was only waiting for the frosts to abate a little +before setting out on his return journey. He +was a grave man—in fact, almost too serious. +He did not care for idle talk, and rarely started +a conversation; but when he did speak, it was +always laconically and with decision, brooking +no contradiction. As the representative of a +class which for long ages had been fairly privileged, +he was an ardent Conservative, and did not +admit the desirability of social reform. "A dog +is a dog, and a sheep is a sheep," was his maxim. +He raised the authority of his moral leaders +almost to a religious cult, and it was not always +safe to express an opinion before him, which even +remotely reflected on the authority he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" Bartek would ask threateningly +on such occasions. And when he was not +too much irritated, and able to control himself, +he would shake his thick fist in the speaker's +face, and solemnly announce:</p> + +<p>"Only fools talk like that!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the other equally large room two more +permanent inhabitants of this solitude were to +be found: the locksmith, Porankiewicz, and the +ex-landowner, once Pan Feliks Babiński.</p> + +<p>If Horodelski was a man standing on the edge +of a precipice, Porankiewicz had rolled to the +very bottom long ago. When I went into the +room, he was scraping together something near +the little table which he called his bench. He +was pale, thin, and very small, and appeared +still smaller owing to his stoop; few quite old +men would walk more bent.</p> + +<p>"Do hold yourself straight just for once," I +often used to say to him.</p> + +<p>"Hah, hah, hah!" Porankiewicz would laugh +good-naturedly; "only the ground, the ground, +my dear sir, will straighten me. I have sat +working from morning till night since I was ten +years old, and even steel gets bent at last."</p> + +<p>This man's life was a real Odyssey—only he, +poor wretch! was no Odysseus. Ill-fortune had +driven him through all parts of Siberia, and it was +his lot to breathe his last in the worst of them.</p> + +<p>Babiński was asleep when I went in, but our +conversation woke him, and he got up. Tall +and broad-shouldered, he had a strong physique, +and his dark face with large projecting eyebrows +and surrounded by a beard as black as coal, +always had a stern expression. I never saw +him moved to tears; when something touched<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +him very deeply, he would only blink hard and +stretch out his hand for the vodka. He was +indefatigable and competent and knew how to +work and had worked like an ox until two years +previously, when he had begun to drink desperately. +"He has either been 'overlooked' or he +has a screw loose," Bartek used to say of him. +So now he seemed to be lost irretrievably, although +under favourable circumstances he might perhaps +yet draw himself out of the abyss into which he +had rolled; for he was a man of exceptionally +strong character.</p> + +<p>There are black cart-horses in Russia, called +"bitiugs," which are bad-tempered, tall, and +uncommonly strong. These animals walk with +an even, measured step, and without the least +effort. When you inquire what weight they are +drawing, you will find that it is at least sixty +poods, and they frequently draw a hundred.</p> + +<p>Babiński was like a "bitiug"; he even walked +with a "bitiug's" step. When he slouched +along with his big strides, it was never possible +to keep pace with him. He always did the shopping +in the town—bread, meat, and vodka—for +no one walked as quickly as he, and no one could +stand frost, however severe, as he could.</p> + +<p>He was a very hard man, and however much +there might be weighing upon him, no one would +have guessed it;—he was a real "bitiug." He +also possessed a certain shrewdness, which often<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +saved him from sinking altogether. It was he +who had occupied this solitary house, and was +the host <i>de jure</i>; but what was still more remarkable +was that he had succeeded in finding +a Yakut woman, as hideous as hell, who had consented +to be cook in the colony, and was as +honest as only savage people can be. Eudoxia +was thus the sixth soul in this lonely place.</p> + +<p>Not all the inhabitants agreed to the festive +celebration of Christmas. Bartek, and, stranger +still, Horodelski, were most strongly opposed +to it. "No, never!" Horodelski persisted. "I +will drink as much vodka as you like, and eat what +you give me—but Christmas? No!" And he +only gave way after Bartek's refractoriness also +had been softened by unusual eloquence on +Porankiewicz's part.</p> + +<p>The usual order of these social gatherings was +that first of all Babiński rushed off without delay +for provisions, and quickly returned with flour, +butter, "pępki,"<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> and a large bottle of wine. +Having stilled our hunger a little, and refreshed +ourselves by a good glass of wine, we went out +into the front room in order not to hinder the preparations +which Eudoxia was making under Porankiewicz's +direction. He was immensely proud of +the honour shown him, and threw his head back, +as he always did when trying to hold himself +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +straighter, assuming an air of extreme gravity. +He was so deeply moved he was almost unable +to speak, and instead of words gave indistinct +grunts which, especially at first, nearly choked +him. Ultimately the grunts ceased, and the +sounds proceeding from the kitchen, of hissing +butter, logs being split, and dough kneaded, told +us that, having overcome his emotion, Porankiewicz +was directing culinary affairs in his own way.</p> + +<p>Things were now becoming noisier in the front +room. Bartek and Horodelski, relaxing their +restraint, were already growing boisterous. They +began to recall and count up how many years it +was since they had last kept Christmas Eve; +and when Bartek remarked that it would be +worth while "getting a little clean to sit down to +such a great festivity," a public washing and +changing began, as though everyone were preparing +for a ball.</p> + +<p>Pan Józef produced a very fetching collar, +reaching halfway up his cheek, and ornamented +his throat with a fascinating tie, made out of a +checked handkerchief. Bartek pulled a small +bag out of the cupboard, and, after rummaging +in it for a long time, took out a threadbare piece +of cheap ribbon, which he tried unsuccessfully +to tie round his neck. His clumsy, unaccustomed +hands quite refused to obey him, and the ribbon +slipped through his fingers. But attracted by +the sight of the shoemaker's tie, Bartek turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +to him with the request: "Help me with this, +will you?" The shoemaker set himself to the +task, yet he either undertook it carelessly or +murmured something about the shabbiness of +the ribbon; for only when Bartek had said in a low +voice, "But it comes from home," the shoemaker +answered "A-ah!" in a different tone, and, +leading Bartek to the light, arranged a tie for him +with which "one might dare to go courting." +Bartek walked about with this as if he had +swallowed a poker. Then, when Babiński also +pinned on a freshly starched collar, and Horodelski +sported an antiquated jacket, on which he had +been working for the last half-hour to get out +the stains, the external appearance of our whole +party harmonized with its inner sense of festivity.</p> + +<p>Of the whole party, I repeat; for, when the door +of the next room opened wide, Porankiewicz +appeared dressed equally smartly in a long, +threadbare coat, and although his collar was +smaller, his tie was by no means inferior to the +shoemaker's.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Porankiewicz cleared his throat once or twice—indeed, +he cleared it a third time. Holding the +door with one hand, and waving the other towards +us, he said with a solemn bow:</p> + +<p>"Dinner is ready!"</p> + +<p>The sight which met us on entering was so +unexpected that we stood thunderstruck.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the inner wall of the room stood a fair-sized +table, covered, as it should be, with a white cloth. +The hay spread on the table<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> underneath the +cloth was peeping through the holes. The table +was lighted with two candles in very battered +candlesticks. At one end stood a large dish +heaped with temptingly smoking and savoury +"oładis,"<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> at the other end a dish of pępki, +prepared with vinegar and pepper. Round the +dish lay bread, and a bottle of wine stood near it, +surrounded by small drinking vessels of various +kinds. But in the very centre of the table, on +the only plate—once white, now yellow and +chipped—lay the fragments of the wafer which +had been sent to me from home.</p> + +<p>No one had expected either the tablecloth, the +hay, or the wafer; the impression produced by so +many unexpected accessories was therefore very +great.</p> + +<p>Highly pleased with the effect, Porankiewicz +now went to the table and carefully took up the +plate with the wafer. Straightening himself until +his back almost cracked, he cleared his throat, +opened his mouth, and when everyone was on +tiptoe of expectation, awaiting a speech, he said +in a trembling voice:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p><p>"H'm-h'm! Gentlemen, the wafer comes +straight from Warsaw!"</p> + +<p>Chrysostom himself could not have spoken +more powerfully.</p> + +<p>We had been impatient to sit down to table +beforehand, for the inviting smell of the oładis +had begun to gain ascendancy over the solemnity +of the moment. But these few words threw +a dead silence round the room, and somehow +we all involuntarily drew ourselves up into a +row, and our five heads turned to the plate +alone.</p> + +<p>Porankiewicz straightened himself once more.</p> + +<p>"H'm-h'm! Gentlemen, this is such a +sacred——"</p> + +<p>"Has it been blessed by the priest?" Bartek +interrupted anxiously, full of joyful admiration.</p> + +<p>"I should hope so! They would not otherwise +have sent it," Porankiewicz answered, with deep +conviction. "But," he continued, "h'm—I +should like to say, as it is such a sacred thing, +shall we not break it?"</p> + +<p>"Let us break it! Of course we must break +it!" came from five mouths as though from +one.</p> + +<p>Porankiewicz made a fresh effort to hold himself +straighter.</p> + +<p>"But since—that is—I should like to say—without +offence to our dear Pan Babiński"—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +he bowed to him respectfully—"we are all hosts +of this palace, I therefore hope—that is, I think—it +will be best if this gentleman, who is our guest, +takes it round...."</p> + +<p>As crimson and perspiring as after the hardest +piece of work, he handed me the plate with a +bow.</p> + +<p>And now, when it was my own turn to speak, +I understood the difficulty my predecessor had +had in making his short speech. My hands +trembled, and I could not utter a word. Babiński +became as white as a sheet, and when I went +up to him his stern face was as still as if it had +been cut out of marble. Had it not been that +his eyelids quivered, I might have thought that +it was a corpse and not a living man before +me. He was a long time in gathering the crumbs; +they fell from his hands, and I doubt if he ate +even one.</p> + +<p>It was the same with all the rest.</p> + +<p>Porankiewicz, being the softest-hearted, was +the first to begin sobbing like a child; and +although Bartek, who was standing beside him, +kept nudging and touchingly entreating him to +"be quiet, or he himself would bleat like a sheep," +it was of no avail. By the time I came to Bartek, +his strength was failing; he bent his grey head +low, and, stretching out his hand for the wafer, +he slowly began aloud: "In the Name of the +Father ... and of the Son ... and of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +Holy Ghost.... And of the Holy Ghost," he +repeated lower, and burst out crying in a loud +voice.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Tears brought relief to us all—to all but Babiński, +who, instead of weeping with us, stood as +though petrified, merely blinking his eyes. We +could see that he was touched to the quick. For, +standing near the table, he stretched out both +hands among the cups and glasses standing +round the wine-bottle, and clinked a glass loudly. +His eyelids quivered and his hands trembled as +in fever, refusing to obey him; and when Porankiewicz, +who was calm again, ran up to him, he +only whispered in a weak voice:</p> + +<p>"Pour it out, brother."</p> + +<p>Porankiewicz began to pour, and every hand +was stretched out towards the table.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, impossible for all to pour at +once. But as we all found we needed something +to drink, we reproached one another for not having +thought of filling the glasses earlier. This, however, +Bartek cut short by sagely observing that +"nobody here was the Holy Ghost, and could +know that so much sorrow would fall upon all +of us." When at last all the cups and glasses +had been filled, we emptied them in silence, +fearing a fresh outburst of emotion, and proceeded +in turn to the peppered and salted pępki course. +This is food of the kind which cannot be eaten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +without being suitably moistened. So when +Porankiewicz repeatedly took up the bottle, all +hands were again stretched towards him. And +then we noticed that Babiński's hand was not +among the rest.</p> + +<p>Babiński stood in the same attitude as before, +with his empty glass, silent, immovable, and +pale. Bartek, who had experience of sick +people, was the first to perceive his danger, +and, going up to him at once, examined him +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"It's clear it has got hold of him all at once," +was his final verdict. "If it has no outlet, it +may strangle him, just as a savage wolf kills a +lamb. There's only one way to prevent it: if +sorrow doesn't come out with tears through the +eyes, you must let it flow down gently inside, +and as it slowly runs off, the pressure leaves the +heart. He ought to have drunk out three glasses +at once. But it's not so bad yet; he's a strong +man; he'll come to himself after a bit."</p> + +<p>And, choosing the grandest cup, Bartek ordered: +"Fill it, Porankiewicz!"</p> + +<p>Porankiewicz filled it, and Babiński drained it +mechanically; again he filled it, and again Babiński +drained it. But the pain having evidently not +abated, Bartek began to examine him afresh.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got some spirits somewhere, by +chance?"</p> + +<p>Babiński nodded in assent; and when the vodka<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +had been brought, Bartek chose an ordinary glass +from among the other drinking vessels, filled it +well to the half, and offered it to Babiński.</p> + +<p>The remedy worked wonders. Babiński sipped +it, but when he had drained the glass the pallor +left his face, and he sat down to the table and +asked for something to eat. He was offered some +pępki, and when we had all had visible proof +that it was disappearing with due rapidity, a +heavy weight fell from our minds. Bartek was +now no less proud of his remedy than Porankiewicz +of his Christmas Eve dinner, and each began to +call the other to testify to his excellence. So +when Babiński had consumed two pounds of pępki, +and stopped eating, the first critical episode of +the evening was safely over.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>There was now a buzzing in the solitude, as +of a swarm of bees; everyone talked, and, although +it appeared to each that he spoke in his natural +voice, there was enough noise for twelve.</p> + +<p>We were all filled with the happiness for which +we had yearned, and our hearts were so softened +that recent troubles, long-forgotten pain, and +wounds which each had concealed from the world +more closely than even a miser conceals his chest +filled with ducats were opened to receive the balm +of comfort. Phantoms of manifold suffering +passed before us in a long unending chain, showing +us all forms of human misery, as though through +a kaleidoscope.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Having now experienced the relief we longed +for, and seeing the faces round us wet with tears +of sympathy, we each spontaneously acknowledged +our failings and sins, making our confession +in public, as it were, and expressing sincere +penitence for our misdeeds.</p> + +<p>Bartek beat his breast, accusing himself of very +great weakness; Porankiewicz sobbed, piteously +begging to be pardoned for his bad habit on +account of the difficulties he had gone through, +which had been beyond his strength; the others +also accused themselves.</p> + +<p>Only after each had shown penitence and +regret, and full pardon for the failings by which +every one had been overcome on his thorny road +had restored our lost dignity, the yellow, wrinkled +faces brightened with sincere and childlike joy, +and we dared to look up. Now we were all on +an equality. The second episode, no less critical +than the first, had passed safely.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It gave way to the third episode.</p> + +<p>The harmony reigning amongst us, the happy +feeling of mutual love, brotherhood, and sympathy, +began to thrill us with delight, and foretold +the longed-for moment.</p> + +<p>Like birds flying to the fire on a dark night, +the people inexperienced in the life here fling +themselves upon that deadly hashish. But the +experienced flee from the cup of sweetness which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +had so often ensnared and deluded us by its +bewitching draught. They fly from it as from the +phantom of death. That cup now stood unveiled +before us. One after the other the coverings +hiding the tempting poison had fallen away; there +was nothing left but to approach and drink—to +drink till strength was utterly exhausted.</p> + +<p>The first to recall the delightful recollections of +home was old Bartek, who unrolled on a golden +background pictures of his native Sandomierz +fields, pictures full of strength, simplicity, and +charm. With dishevelled hair, with face aflame, +and the inspired look of an old Biblical prophet, +he showed us the most beautiful plains, meadows, +and forests, of his native soil. He led us to +hamlets with rustic thatched roofs; he grieved over +the misery sheltering beneath them; he led us to +the churches where the Name of God is hallowed.</p> + +<p>And the longed-for miracle took place; the goal +of hidden desires, dreamt of when watching +through sleepless nights, was realized. Our distant +country, our native air, the golden sun, +were with us here in this dark room in the solitude. +We saw that country, felt and touched it; we +were here, yet living there; far away from it, we +decked it with verdure, we adorned it with flowers, +we decorated it with the most beautiful of decorations, +with our hearts beating alone for our +country—our bride to whom we would be faithful +while strength lasted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Is this no exertion? Indeed, may God preserve +everyone from such an exertion! Strong men +have tried to lift that stone of Sisyphus, and +to-day their bones whiten the cemeteries. A few +drunkards, tramping from tavern to tavern, a +throng of madmen, breathing their last in hospitals, +are testimonies to the fact that this stone +shall not be lifted; for the higher a man is fool +enough to lift it, with the greater force will it +crush his frenzied head.</p> + +<p>A frenzy had seized us all, and with bloodshot +eyes, distended nostrils, and hearts ready to +burst from our anguished breasts, we undertook +this superhuman task.</p> + +<p>Then woe to the bold man who would have +dared to handle our illusions rudely! Woe to +the unhappy one whose strength gave out too +soon! Ere he could recollect himself, a knife, +brandished by an otherwise friendly hand, would +have flashed before his eyes. The unhappy man +would have perished as the weaker wild animals +perish without mercy among an enraged herd.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A choir composed of six voices resounded with +a deep echo round the large rooms of the solitary +house. Sad and joyful songs alternated naturally +in the same unchangeable order in which everything +is carried out in this world. A native of +the Cracow district, Bartek with his Cracowiaks<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +was a host in himself. "We're not such bad +fellows"<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> alone would have satisfied the most +ardent vocal enthusiast, we sang it so many times. +For it was not five or ten, but rather twenty years +or even more, since many of us had heard that +little song. So, although Bartek was already +hoarse, to everyone's delight he sang it again for +the fifth time, repeating the second verse, which +is the more beautiful, six or seven times. Each +word of that song, so charmingly and poetically +naïve, called forth indescribable enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, what a song! That is a song!" the +brief applause burst out; and although Bartek +sang on without interruption, glancing round +triumphantly, he found time to answer each +exclamation briefly but distinctly:</p> + +<p>"That's a Cracowian song!"</p> + +<p>Babiński followed the melody of each ballad +or song, and rattled it out like a barrel organ, +merely repeating two very discordant syllables +innumerable times: "Dyna, dyna, dyna, dyna." +He sang with the greatest enthusiasm, however; +strong as he always was and burning with inward +fire, he was terrible now with his wordless +songs, into which he put all the sufferings and +sorrows he had never expressed in words.</p> + +<p>At last we had exhausted all the songs we knew, +and sung them to the end; no one could recall +any more. But since the frenzy which had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +seized us had now reached its height, it was +necessary to find some new song giving ample +outlet by its words and motifs to the emotions +already aroused, and answering to our present +state of feeling.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Among the songs of our nation which give an +outlet to its longings, the greatest are the religious +songs; for whether sad or joyous, mournful +or festive, they are always noble in their deep +and calm feeling. The people who can hear and +find nothing in these songs are poor indeed. The +Lenten, Easter, and Christmas songs are the +greatest artistic inheritance handed down to us +from the past. It is the one sphere of artistic +creativeness not produced by separate epochs +and classes, but to which the whole nation has +contributed throughout the centuries of its existence, +giving to it all its earthly joys and griefs—all +its soul.</p> + +<p>And therefore we possess a treasury of melodies +which are as deep as the soul of the nation—indifferent +to superficial or cheap sentiment—and +as great as existence itself, obscured by the +veil of ages.</p> + +<p>Cast into this depth any amount of the blackest +sorrow or the most exuberant joy, its surface +will never even be ruffled. It replies to the +greatest cataclysms with a ripple, and its smooth +current scarcely even suggests any troubling of +its waters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>From this treasury, as yet insufficiently prized, +the great artists of the future will draw inspiration, +as those in real suffering do to-day.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Who does not know the favourite carol, "Star +of the Sea"? Yet it is probably sung in few +churches as we sang it there. Both words and +melody corresponded to our feelings. The simple +words of the song might have been written for +us; its solemn, grand melody soothed our hearts, +which were suffering so terribly from self-inflicted +wounds. Bartek was the first to fall on his knees. +The rest of us followed his example, and earnest, +ardent prayers flowed from our lips. But when +we came to the words, "Turn from us hunger +and grievous plague, protect us from bloodshed +and war," we prayed with so much fervour that +hearing we did not hear, and seeing we did not +see Bartek rise weeping. "Oh, the merciful +Father won't hear such a great prayer from this +den of infection! We must pray to the God of the +heavens in the open!" he cried, and went out of +the room dressed as he was.</p> + +<p>But our strength was now nearly exhausted. +Even Babiński stopped singing now and then, +showing only by his open mouth and hand beating +time that he was still singing on in his heart. +Suddenly, electrifying us afresh, a strong voice +sounded outside the door: "God is born, power +trembles"; and Bartek, led in by Eudoxia from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the "open," in which he would infallibly have +been frozen, started the carol in his bass voice.</p> + +<p>Another spring, not struck as yet, gushed out +before us. Was it possible we could have forgotten +this? So, although our lips could scarcely +move, we drank eagerly from this fresh source, +and our choir sang a fresh song in unison with +strength refreshed. The joyful song of the Birth +of our Lord bore us far away again from the +Yakut country, and kindled our hearts with new +fire, the fire of truth, confidence, and hope.</p> + +<p>We prayed long and fervently. Even Eudoxia, +attracted by our praying, came in carrying a +holy eikon, and bowing before it, repeated +imploringly:</p> + +<p>"Tangara! Aj, Tangara! Aj, Tangara, urùj!"<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE TRIAL</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> WŁADYSŁAW REYMONT</div> + + +<p>The door opened suddenly with a bang, letting +the wind into the room, and a silent, sinister +crowd of peasants began to pour in from the dark +hall. They did not even say, "The Lord be +praised!"<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> + +<p>The miller dropped his spoon on the table, +and looked round in astonishment from one to +the other. Then he turned down the lamp which +was flaring from the draught.</p> + +<p>"There are rather a lot of you," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"There are more waiting outside," Jędrzej, +one of the peasants, said, coming forward quickly.</p> + +<p>"Have you any business to settle with me?"</p> + +<p>"We didn't come here just for a talk," someone +said, shutting the door.</p> + +<p>"Then sit down; I shall have finished supper +in a minute."</p> + +<p>"To your good health! We will wait a +while...."</p> + +<p>The miller began to sip up his porridge hastily. +The peasants meanwhile settled themselves on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +the benches round the stove, warming their +backs and carefully watching Jędrzej, who had +sat down by the table and was leaning his elbows +on it in deep reflection.</p> + +<p>"Beastly weather this!" the miller accosted +them.</p> + +<p>"Real March weather."</p> + +<p>"It's always like this before the spring."</p> + +<p>Here the conversation broke off again, and the +only thing to be heard in the silence of the room +was the miller's spoon scraping along the earthenware +bowl. But outside someone was stamping +the mud off his boots, while at times the howling +gusts of wind struck the walls till they creaked, +and the rain beat against the steamed window-panes.</p> + +<p>"Jadwiś!" called the miller, wiping his short +moustache with his hand.</p> + +<p>A strong and very good-looking girl, not wearing +a peasant's dress, appeared from a side room. +She threw a keen glance at the peasants, and, +taking the bowl in her arm, went out again with +a rolling gait.</p> + +<p>"What is this business?" began the miller, +taking snuff.</p> + +<p>Not a hand was stretched out towards the +snuff; the peasants' faces had suddenly clouded. +Someone cleared his throat, others scratched +their heads in indecision, and they all looked at +Jędrzej, who, straightening himself and fixing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +his light, searching eyes on the miller, said +slowly:</p> + +<p>"We have come to make you tell us who the +thieves were."</p> + +<p>The miller started back, stared, spread out his +arms, and stuttered: "In the Name of the Father +and the Son! How should I know that?..."</p> + +<p>"We think you are the man to know," Jędrzej +said in a lower voice, standing up. The other +peasants also got up, and planted themselves +round the miller in a circle, like a thick wall, +fixing him with eyes as keen as a hawk's, so that +the blood mounted to his face. "We have come +to you for the truth," Jędrzej whispered impressively.</p> + +<p>"And you must tell us—you've got to!" the +rest echoed in low, stern voices.</p> + +<p>"What truth? Are you mad? How am I to +know? Am I a party to thieves? Or what?..." +He spoke quickly, turning the light up and down +with trembling hands.</p> + +<p>"We know very well that you're honest; but +you know who the thieves are. So come, how +was it? They stole your horses in the autumn, +but you did nothing; and not long ago they stole +money from you—you even caught them in your +bedroom—and again you did nothing and didn't +have them taken up, and never even told the +policeman about them."</p> + +<p>"Why should I? Do you want me to lose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +more money? What good would the Court or +the police do? They'd catch the wind in the +field and bring it bound to me! May God repay +those scoundrels at the Judgment Day for the +wrong they have done me!"</p> + +<p>"It's plain, from all you say, that you're afraid +to let out who they are."</p> + +<p>"If I knew, do you think I'd be the worse +off through them, and not tell? Was it for +nothing...."</p> + +<p>"You keep going round in a circle," Jędrzej +interrupted him roughly. "We didn't come here +to quarrel with you, but to get at the truth; +and we're in a hurry, for the whole village is +waiting, some outside your house and some in +the cottages. So we ask you as a friend to tell +us who stole your money."</p> + +<p>"If I had known it myself, the Court and all +the village would have known by now," the miller +excused himself anxiously, looking in alarm at +the set, suspicious faces round him. But Jędrzej +threw himself forward impatiently, and his eyes +shone with anger. Without thinking what he +was doing, he took the miller by the shoulder, +and said abruptly in a firm voice:</p> + +<p>"What you are saying isn't true! But if you +will swear to it in church, we will trust you and +leave you in peace."</p> + +<p>The miller sat down and began to talk with +feigned amusement:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! You're in a larky mood, I see, as +if it were Carnival. Of course, if you all go in +a crowd to a fellow and threaten him with sticks, +he'll be ready to swear to anything you like. I +tell you the truth: I know nothing about this, +and I know nothing about the thieves. You +can believe me if you like; if not, then don't. +But you won't force me to swear to it, for you +have no right to try me...."</p> + +<p>He stood up, rolling his eyes defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, that's what we came for—and to +carry out the sentence justly," Jędrzej said so +firmly that the miller started back in terror, and +was unable to get out a word.</p> + +<p>The peasants surrounded him in gloomy silence, +fixing their burning eyes on him, and shuffling +their feet impatiently. So menacing and full of +stern resolution did they look that he was at a +loss to know what to do, and merely stood +wiping the perspiration from his bald head and +casting frightened glances round the circle of +stubborn, set faces. He realized that this was +not only idle talk, but the beginning of something +terrible. He sat down again on a bench, and +took pinch after pinch of snuff to help himself +to arrive at some decision. Then Jędrzej went +up to him, and said solemnly:</p> + +<p>"You neither want to tell the truth nor to +swear to it. So it's plain you are a party to +those thieves!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<p>The miller sprang up as hastily as if something +close beside him had been struck by lightning, +upsetting the bench as he did so.</p> + +<p>"Jesus! Mary! have I to do with thieves? +You say this to me?"</p> + +<p>"I say it and repeat it!"</p> + +<p>"And we repeat it too!" they all shouted +together, shaking their fists at him. Their heads +were bent forward; their glances were like vultures' +beaks, ready to tear.</p> + +<p>Attracted by the noise, Jadwiś burst into the +room and stood petrified.</p> + +<p>"What's up here?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>The peasants dropped their clenched hands, +and began to clear their throats.</p> + +<p>"We don't want women here, listening and +blabbing it all out afterwards," someone said +angrily.</p> + +<p>"She'd better go back where she came from."</p> + +<p>"Look after the geese, and don't come poking +your nose into men's business!" they shouted +still louder. Jadwiś ran out of the room in a +furious temper, slamming the door after her.</p> + +<p>Again Jędrzej stretched his hand forward, and +said:</p> + +<p>"I tell you, miller, the time for trial and +punishment has come!"</p> + +<p>"And for bringing order into the world!..."</p> + +<p>"And for weeding out wrong and planting +justice!..." The words rang out menacingly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +and again the peasants shook their clenched fists +in the miller's frightened face.</p> + +<p>"Good God! what do you fellows want? +What am I guilty of?" he gasped, terrified, +looking round from side to side. But, without +heeding him, Jędrzej began to speak quickly and +in a low, hard voice which penetrated the miller +like frost.</p> + +<p>"As he won't confess, he is guilty. Take him, +and we will try him at the church.... Everyone +who wrongs the people will be brought to a +just trial, and be heavily sentenced. Take him, +you fellows!"</p> + +<p>"Jesus! Mary! Men!..." the miller stammered +in deadly fear, looking round distractedly, +for the peasants all advanced towards him together. +"Men!... How can I tell you?... +I have sworn to it. They'll burn the house down +or kill me if I say who they are.... Merciful +Jesu! Let me be! I'll tell you everything! +I'll tell you!" His voice quavered, for several +hands had already seized him and were dragging +him towards the door.</p> + +<p>It was some time before he was able to speak. +He fell panting on the table. They stood round +him, and someone gave him a little water to +drink, while others said in a friendly way:</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid; no one who is on the side +of the people will have a hair on his head touched."</p> + +<p>"Only confess the whole truth."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We know you're an honest man, and will tell +us the scoundrels' names."</p> + +<p>The miller writhed inwardly, like an eel when +it is trodden upon; he went hot and cold, and +became alternately pale and red. Suddenly he +drew himself up, ready for anything. But before +he began to speak he glanced into the next room.</p> + +<p>There was a glimpse of Jadwiś, as though she +were just jumping away from behind the door. +He looked out of the window, and then, standing +up before the group of peasants, he crossed himself +and said:</p> + +<p>"I am telling you the truth as though I were +at Confession; it was the two Gajdas and the +Starszy."<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> + +<p>There was silence. The men stood petrified and +stared at one another, panting and drawing long, +hoarse breaths. Jędrzej was the first to speak:</p> + +<p>"That's what we were thinking, but we couldn't +be sure. Now we know what we want to know. +We know them, the filthy scoundrels!" He +banged his fist on the table. "They are weeds +that must be torn up by the roots so that they +mayn't spread. Both the Gajdas—father and +son? And the Starszy is the third? Then, in +God's Name, we'll go to them, and you'll go with +us, miller, so that you may tell them the truth +to their face."</p> + +<p>"I'll go and tell them—that I will! It's as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +if a weight had fallen from my shoulders. I'll +stand up and tell them they're robbers and thieves. +Good God! I knew what they were up to, but I +daren't breathe a word about it. May they be +broken upon the wheel for my sin in being such +a coward! I was ashamed to look people in the +face when everyone was calling out about those +robberies.... The rascals! they took away +my horses; I sent them the ransom through the +Starszy, but they didn't give them back.... +And afterwards I caught them in my bedroom: +they fleeced me of every penny, and they threatened +me with their knives.... As if that +weren't enough, I had to swear I'd not let out +who'd done it!"</p> + +<p>"The whole neighbourhood has suffered through +them."</p> + +<p>"They have stolen a great many horses and +cows from people, and a lot of money."</p> + +<p>"It was easy for them to do all that, for the +Starszy gave them the go-by, and went shares +with them...."</p> + +<p>"They had a gay time at our expense; let them +pay for it now...."</p> + +<p>"If everyone talks, I'll have my say, too," +someone exclaimed. "I know that the Gajdas +betrayed the priest for having married the young +couple from Podlasia."<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> +<p>"What!... They even betrayed the priest?"</p> + +<p>"And the postmaster's daughters who taught +the children<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a>—it must have been they who +betrayed them?"</p> + +<p>"So it was! So it was! We know that!" +the miller asserted rancorously.</p> + +<p>"Then it's they who robbed and killed the +Jews in the forest!"</p> + +<p>"Sure enough, it's the Gajdas! It's they!... +The carrion!... The mean wretches! The +scoundrels!" The peasants began to curse, +thumping their sticks on the ground and stamping. +Their eyes shot fire, and they raised their +clenched fists.</p> + +<p>"Let's have done with them! Punish those +swine! Try them! Try them!"</p> + +<p>"Then let's go quickly before they escape us!" +Jędrzej cried.</p> + +<p>"Skin them!... Batter them to death like +mad dogs!" they shouted, pressing through the +doorway. The miller blew out the light and +went with them.</p> + +<p>They were no sooner outside the house than +Jadwiś ran out. She glided stealthily along the +wall, looking anxiously after them and wondering +wherever they could be going on a night like +that, and what their reason for going could be.</p> + +<p>For it was a real March night, cold, wet, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +windy. The whole world was wrapped in thick +darkness. The sleet lashed the men's faces and +took away their breath, and the damp cold +penetrated them to the marrow; the wind swept +through the orchards from all sides; the snowy +ridges of the fields alone showed white in the +blackness. But, without noticing the wretched +weather, the peasants walked along briskly, +spurting the mud from under their feet. They +went stealthily one after the other past the low +cottages which sat along the highroad like tired +old market women taking a rest, or nestled in +their orchards so that only the snowy roofs, +resembling white hoods, could be seen through +the swaying trees.</p> + +<p>Jędrzej walked in front. Every now and then +he gave orders in a low voice, and someone left +the line, ran up to a window, and, hammering at +it with his fist, cried:</p> + +<p>"Come out! It's time!"</p> + +<p>The light in the cottage would be extinguished +at once, and the door would creak. Black +shadows, feeling their way with sticks, would +creep out and join the crowd in silence.</p> + +<p>They now walked still closer together and with +even greater caution, looking carefully in all +directions.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Jędrzej looked back nervously; he +had distinctly heard the mud splash as if someone +were running after them, and there was a shadow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +creeping along stealthily under the hedge. But +directly the peasants stopped all was quiet and +there was nothing to be seen; the only sounds +were the roar of the wind, and now and again the +dogs barking furiously in their kennels.</p> + +<p>They moved on more slowly, but several now +began to cross themselves in terror; some sighed, +while others felt a cold shudder go through them. +Yet no one said a word or hesitated; they went +forward with a steady movement like an oncoming, +threatening cloud drawing together slowly +and silently before it suddenly flashes with +lightning and scatters hail on the ground.</p> + +<p>They passed the public-house, which was brilliantly +lighted; some of them sniffed in the familiar +smell, and would have liked to have gone inside +to have a drink. This, however, Jędrzej would not +allow. He made them draw up into the middle +of the road, for they had now nearly reached +the policeman's house; its white walls shone in +the distance. The lively strains of a concertina +came through the brightly lighted windows.</p> + +<p>The peasants stopped opposite the house, and +scarcely dared to breathe.</p> + +<p>"Now keep a good look-out," Jędrzej said, +"and the minute the bell rings, go into the room +all together and get him by the head, and a rope +round him. But be careful he doesn't give you +the slip, or else he'll do a lot of harm.... Don't +make a noise and scare him away."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>Several peasants silently left the crowd and +crept up to the house in the darkness. In the +meantime the others marched on quickly towards +the large square at the end of the village, where +only a few little lights were shining. The space +between these last houses and the snowy fields +was filled by the church and a thicket of trees +which looked like a black mountain rocking +slightly in the breeze.</p> + +<p>The Gajdas' house stood near the church, a +little way from the road, and was partly hidden by +a large orchard, so that the lights from the windows +showed through the close branches like wolves' +eyes. The men turned towards it at once, but +in places the mud was knee-deep, for the puddles +had become like pools, and frozen snow-drifts +blocked the road. They went carefully step by +step to avoid the obstructions, and made a circle +as though intentionally prolonging the way. +Near the fence they halted for an instant; Jędrzej +bade them keep silence, stole to the side of the +window, and peeped in.</p> + +<p>The room was large; the whitewashed walls +were hung with pictures, and lighted by a lamp +suspended from the ceiling. Several people were +sitting at the table under the lamp, having supper, +and talking together in low voices. The bright +fire crackling on the hearth threw red gleams +over one side of the room. A girl was walking +up and down, nursing a screaming baby.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're at home—they're in there!" Jędrzej +whispered, turning to the crowd. He was trembling +all over, and almost unable to breathe or +to speak and tell half the men to go and watch the +house from the backyard and fields.</p> + +<p>But, quickly composing himself, he led the +rest boldly through the gate up to the house. +They had already reached it, when the dogs +began to howl so dismally somewhere in the +backyard that they hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"That's our lot has come upon the dogs. +Come on! If they put up a fight in there, knock +them down with your sticks, the swine!—No +pity!" Jędrzej whispered. Dragging the miller +after him and crossing himself, he walked sharply +into the hall, the other peasants close behind him, +shoulder to shoulder. They entered the room +in a body, looking black and determined.</p> + +<p>There was some commotion. The Gajdas +jumped up from the table, their mouths open +with amazement. But the elder one recovered +his presence of mind in a trice, and, dropping +on to a stool, he pulled his son by the sleeve to +make him sit down too.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you!" he cried with ironical +friendliness. "Ha, ha! What grand guests! +Even the miller and Jędrzej! Quite a party!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, neighbours!" the young Gajda put +in, throwing frightened glances round the peasants, +and mechanically dipping his spoon into the dish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>But no one sat down, and not a hand was +stretched out in greeting. They all stood as +still as posts, and Jędrzej alone came forward, +saying sternly:</p> + +<p>"Stop eating; we have more important business +in hand."</p> + +<p>"Business? Supper is more important to us!" +the old man snapped insolently.</p> + +<p>"I tell you: stop! So stop!" Jędrzej thundered.</p> + +<p>"Hah! You are very domineering in a strange +cottage!"</p> + +<p>"I command, and you must obey, you dirty +dogs!"</p> + +<p>The Gajdas jumped to their feet, pale and +shaking with fear. But they clenched their teeth +and looked as fierce as wolves, ready for anything.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" the younger man +asked, choking with fury.</p> + +<p>"To try you and punish you—you robbers!" +Jędrzej cried in a terrible voice. It was as if the +ceiling were falling on them, for they cowered +under these words.</p> + +<p>Death seemed to sweep through the silence +which followed, for even breathing ceased for a +moment; only the baby began to cry louder +than before. Suddenly the Gajdas sprang towards +the door, the younger brandishing his +knife, the older man snatching up his axe; but +before they could strike, the peasants had thrown +themselves upon them, and in the scuffle which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +followed blows from sticks rained down upon +them, a score of hands grasped them by the +head, neck, and legs, and they were lifted bodily +from the ground, like fragile plants.</p> + +<p>The storm went round the room; there were +cries and confusion; tables, benches, and chairs +flew in all directions; the women sobbed; with +curses and shouts, a convulsed mass of men rolled +on to the floor, hit against the wall several times, +and finally fell asunder.</p> + +<p>At length the Gajdas lay on the ground, bound +with ropes, like sheep, and shouting at the top +of their voices. They cursed horribly as they +struggled to free themselves.</p> + +<p>"Take them to the church door; they shall +be tried there!" Jędrzej ordered.</p> + +<p>They dragged them out of the house and almost +along the ground across the square, driving them +on with sticks, for they resisted, yelling with +all their might. The women ran by their side, +sobbing and whining for pity; the men kicked +them away as if they were so many bitches. +"Peal the church bell! Let all the village come +together!" the miller cried.</p> + +<p>The landscape was lighted by the snow which +had begun to fall heavily.</p> + +<p>The bell rang out with a deep sound, like a fire-alarm, +and then went on pealing without ceasing, +mournfully and ominously, so that the crows +flew up cawing from the belfry and circled over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +the church. From the village came a crowd +of women and children, running and shouting.</p> + +<p>"Men! Have pity! Help! For Heaven's sake!" +the Gajdas shouted, trying desperately to free +themselves. But no one answered; the whole +crowd went on in deep silence. Thus they +entered the churchyard, took their prisoners up +to the church door, and threw them down there.</p> + +<p>"What are we guilty of? What do you mean? +Help!" the Gajdas shouted once more, making +an effort to get up. But someone gave them a +kick, and they fell down again like logs, cursing +and vowing dreadful vengeance on the whole +village.</p> + +<p>Standing with his back against the church door, +Jędrzej took off his cap and cried in a loud, +solemn voice:</p> + +<p>"Brothers! Poles!"</p> + +<p>The women's screaming was hushed, and the +crowd drew into a close circle, straining to listen, +for the wet snow, which was falling thickly, +made hearing difficult.</p> + +<p>"I tell you this, brothers: just as the peasant +goes out with his harrow in the spring to rake +his field which he ploughed in the autumn, that it +may be free from weeds before he puts in good seed, +so now the time has come to weed out the wrong +in the world.... They have already done +this in other districts and parishes; they have +turned out the District Clerk at Olsza, they have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +killed the thieves at Wola, and driven away +others from Grabica. And the people have taken +this upon themselves—upon themselves; for things +in this world are so badly managed that we peasants +have to work and sweat, pay rates, and send up +recruits. But if any of us has a grievance, there +is only God and useless grumbling left him."</p> + +<p>"Ay, that's it—that's it!"</p> + +<p>"This I tell you: the time has come for us +peasant people not to look for help to anyone +else, but to rely on ourselves. We must manage +for ourselves; we must defend ourselves from +being ill-treated, and take the law into our own +hands! We have waited for long years, and +had to put up with all kinds of wrongs done to us, +and no one has come to the rescue or helped us in +any way. For the Courts are not for those who +want justice; the laws are not for peasants; and +there's no protection for those who have been +wronged. Everyone with any sense knows that. +So there seems to be no other way but do as other +villages are doing."</p> + +<p>"Kill the carrion! Finish them off! Tear them +with wild horses!" they began to shout frantically +at once, attacking the Gajdas with their sticks.</p> + +<p>"Silence! Stop there, you fools!" Jędrzej +roared, putting himself in front of the Gajdas +to protect them. "Wait! We all know they +are robbers, thieves, and traitors who deserve +punishment; but first let everyone who has anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +to charge them with come forward and +say it to their face. For we have come here to +sentence and not to murder them. We don't +want to play off our revenge on them, but to +punish them justly."</p> + +<p>The people crowded together more closely, for +everyone felt awkward at being the first to come +forward. There was a loud hubbub of voices as +they recalled their grievances and pressed with +threats towards the prisoners. At last the miller +stepped forward, and, raising his hand, said +solemnly:</p> + +<p>"I swear before God and men that they stole +my horses and four hundred roubles. I caught +them in the act.... At the point of the knife +they forced me to swear that I would not give +them away. They threatened me with revenge if +I did. They are robbers of the worst sort."</p> + +<p>"And I swear that the Gajdas stole my cow," +said another man.</p> + +<p>"And they took my sow."</p> + +<p>"And my mare and foal," others deposed.</p> + +<p>The assembled people listened in grim silence.</p> + +<p>The snow suddenly ceased to fall and the wind +increased, beating round the church and tearing +at the swaying, moaning trees; large grey clouds +flew across the sky; but the steady voices continued +their accusations uninterruptedly. At intervals +there was an ominous murmur and the +thumping of sticks, or else the Gajdas cried:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's not true! They're giving wrong +evidence! The thieves from Wola did all that! +Don't believe it!"</p> + +<p>But fresh people came forward, accusing them +of still heavier crimes.</p> + +<p>And finally they reproached them with the +murder of the Jews and with betraying the +postmaster's daughters and the priest, with committing +arson, joining in drinking bouts with the +police, and not going to church: any known +misdemeanour was hastily raked up and thrown +furiously at their miserable heads. There was a +great clamour, for each man tried to shout down +the other, everyone cursed and swore to avenge +himself, and was so eager to beat the Gajdas that +Jędrzej, unable to restrain them all, shouted +angrily:</p> + +<p>"Hold your noise, and let me have a say!"</p> + +<p>The hubbub subsided slightly, and only the +women continued their quarrelsome chattering.</p> + +<p>"Do you plead guilty?" he asked, bending +over them.</p> + +<p>"No! We're wrongly charged! They are lying—that's +all their spite! We swear to it!" +they cried in despair.</p> + +<p>"If you plead guilty, you will get a lighter +sentence," he urged them, relenting a little.</p> + +<p>The miller, Jędrzej, and those few who were +less excited, still tried to protect them from the +enraged crowd, which moved on towards them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +like a storm, shouting and flourishing sticks. +But the women managed to jump at them and +scratch them spitefully.</p> + +<p>The scene at the church door became more +terrible every instant.</p> + +<p>"We must have the priest here before we +finish with them!... The priest!" the miller +cried suddenly.</p> + +<p>The people stopped. Someone ran to fetch +the Vicar.</p> + +<p>"Or shall we put off carrying out the sentence +till to-morrow?" the miller proposed.</p> + +<p>Thumping their sticks together, the crowd +shouted:</p> + +<p>"Let's have done with them!... No need +for such scoundrels to have a priest!... Let +them die like dogs! No delay, or else they'll +run and fetch the Cossacks! Kill them off!"</p> + +<p>But the Gajdas, feeling that this brought a +possibility of rescue, began to implore despairingly:</p> + +<p>"Men, have pity! Send the priest; we want to +make our confession! The priest!..."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for them, the priest was not +at home. He had gone away somewhere the previous +evening.</p> + +<p>"Then let them make their confession before +all the people," someone said.</p> + +<p>"Very good! Yes, let them confess—and tell +the truth!" the rest assented.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>Someone cut the ropes binding their hands, and +set them on their knees before the church door.</p> + +<p>"Open the church! They are going to make +their confession! Open it!" shouted many voices.</p> + +<p>But Jędrzej exclaimed: "No need of that! +It's a sin to bring such scoundrels into the house +of God; it's enough that we allow them to come +on to consecrated ground. Quiet there!" he +called to the dissatisfied women who kept on +talking; and, bending over the Gajdas, he said:</p> + +<p>"Now confess; but only say the plain truth. +The people have power to forgive you your +trespasses." He knelt down beside them, and +all the rest followed his example, sighing and +crossing themselves.</p> + +<p>The Gajdas mumbled something, looking round +meanwhile in all directions.</p> + +<p>"Speak up! Louder! They even want to +cheat God!" the crowd shouted indignantly.</p> + +<p>The elder Gajda, who seemed to have lost heart +completely, began to shiver, and burst out crying, +confessing his sins through heavy sobs.</p> + +<p>A dead silence spread through the crowd; no +one dared to breathe, or even cough; that pitiful +voice, spreading through the darkness like a +pool of blood, was the only sound besides the bell +pealing overhead and the soughing trees.</p> + +<p>The people were awestruck, and their flesh +began to creep. They beat their breasts in terror; +here and there a moan broke from them; an icy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +fear penetrated them, for Gajda, while all the time +throwing the blame on his son and the policeman, +not only pleaded guilty to what he was accused +of, but to many other even worse crimes....</p> + +<p>When he had finished he prostrated himself +with outstretched arms, striking his head on the +threshold of the church door. His entreaties +for mercy were so piteous that many people in +the crowd began to cry also.</p> + +<p>"Now let Kacper confess!" the men howled. +"Kacper! Get on, you blackguard! Be quick!" +They began to beat and kick him, till he raised +himself, exclaiming furiously:</p> + +<p>"You're blackguards yourselves! You want +to murder innocent people! You're thieves and +traitors yourselves!"</p> + +<p>He cursed and threatened them dreadfully, +till the old man begged him to stop.</p> + +<p>"You'd better knuckle under, son. Confess; +then perhaps they'll pardon you. Knuckle +under!..."</p> + +<p>"I won't! I won't beg for mercy from blackguards! +Dogs! Damned scoundrels! Carrion! +I've no need to confess myself. Let them kill +me—the swine! Only let them dare to do it! +The Cossacks will give it them back for me to-morrow. +Only let them touch me!"</p> + +<p>He roared this like a wild beast, and, suddenly +springing to his feet and belabouring the nearest +bystanders with his fists, he began to beat his way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +madly through the crowd. The old man slipped +after him like a wolf. There was a fearful outcry, +but the Gajdas were instantly overpowered +and thrown down, like a bundle of rags, where +they had lain before.</p> + +<p>"They are trying to run away!" Jędrzej +shouted angrily. "They are threatening vengeance! +Punish them, you fellows! Beat them +to death like mad dogs! Let everyone have a +go at them—everyone—whoever believes in God!"</p> + +<p>The crowd swayed like a forest, and flung itself +upon the men; a hundred sticks rose and fell +with a hollow crash, and the air was rent with +a terrific roar as though the whole world were +breaking to pieces. It was like a whirlwind +raging and then suddenly subsiding. Only curses +and women's shrieks and the thud of sticks were +heard in the darkness now, while at moments +wild, piercing cries rang out from the men who +were being murdered.</p> + +<p>And a few minutes later there was nothing at +the church door but a black shapeless mass +pounded into the slush; it gave out a sickly +smell of blood.</p> + +<p>The bell ceased. But the men had not yet +had time to get their breath before the news +spread from the village that the policeman had +escaped. The peasants came running one after +the other, talking and shouting:</p> + +<p>"The policeman has made off! We went into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +his room when the bell began to ring, and he had +gone."</p> + +<p>"He escaped through the larder. The miller's +daughter had warned him."</p> + +<p>"Of course; we saw her go in! She gave him +the tip. It was she!"</p> + +<p>"That's a lie!" the miller bawled, springing +towards them and threatening them with his +fists.</p> + +<p>"We all know that she got herself into trouble +with the policeman—all of us!" the women +cried; and everyone suddenly knew something +about the matter, and put in his word.</p> + +<p>Then Jędrzej began to speak again: "You +people, listen! Brothers! We have punished +only these; but the biggest thief has run away. +We must catch him.... For that is how we +will punish everyone who does wrong to the people, +steals, and is a traitor. Jump on your horses +and hunt him down! Quick! Get on your +horses, you fellows! He has made off to the +town; catch him! Alive or dead, we must get +him! Hurry up there, or else he may play us +a dirty trick! Look sharp!"</p> + +<p>They poured out of the churchyard and ran +hurriedly towards the village. In no time a +number of peasants were tearing towards the town +at full speed, their horses scattering the mud +from under their feet.</p> + +<p>The village became almost deserted, except<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +for a few women in the churchyard, who were +crying bitterly.</p> + +<p>Keeping to the middle of the road, and heedless +of the sleet beating into his face, the miller dragged +himself homewards. He breathed with difficulty, +and often paused, sighing heavily. At times he +staggered, at times he stopped short, as though +petrified; and now and then a low, pained whisper +broke from the depth of his tortured heart.</p> + +<p>"You—my daughter! So that's what you +are!—With the policeman!" he repeated involuntarily.</p> + +<p>And he clenched his fist in his bitterness; but +he was trembling as in a fever, and heavy tears +rolled fast down his face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE STRONGER SEX</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> STEFAN ŻEROMSKI</div> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Dr. Paweł Obarecki</span> returned home in rather +a bad temper from a whist-party, where he had +been paying his respects to the priest, in company +with the chemist, the postmaster and the magistrate, +for sixteen successive hours, beginning the +previous evening. He carefully locked the door +of his study so that no one, not even his housekeeper, +aged twenty-four, should disturb him. +He sat down at the table, glared angrily at the +window without knowing why, and drummed on +the table with his fingers. He realized that he +was in for another fit of his "metaphysics."</p> + +<p>It is a well-established fact that a man of +culture who has been cast out by the irresistible +force of poverty from the centres of intellectual +life into a small provincial town succumbs in +time to the deadening effects of wet autumn, +lack of means of communication, and the absolute +impossibility of sensible conversation for days +together. He develops into a carnivorous and +vegetable-eating animal, drinks an excessive quantity +of bottled beer, and becomes subject to fits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +of weariness resembling the weakness that precedes +physical sickness. He swallows the boredom +of a small town unconsciously, as a dog swallows +dirt with his food. The actual process of decay +begins at the moment when the thought "Nothing +matters" takes hold of the organism. This was +the case with Dr. Obarecki of Obrzydłówek. At +the period of his life when this story begins, he +had already come to the end of the resources of +Obrzydłówek as regards his brain, his heart, and +his energy.</p> + +<p>He had an unconquerable horror of intellectual +effort, could walk up and down his study for hours +together, or lie on the couch with an unlighted +cigar in his mouth, straining his ear to catch a +sound which would foretell an interruption of +the oppressive silence, anxiously longing for something +to happen: if only someone would come +and say something, or even turn somersaults! +The autumn usually oppressed him specially; +there was something painful in the silence brooding +over Obrzydłówek from end to end on a late +autumn afternoon—something despairing that +roused one to an inward cry for help. As though +a fine cobweb were being spun across it, his brain +elaborated ideas which were sometimes coarse +and occasionally positively absurd.</p> + +<p>His only diversion was whistling and his conversations +with his housekeeper. They turned +on the remarkable superiority of roast pork<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +stuffed with buckwheat to pork with any other +kind of stuffing; but at times they became very +improper.</p> + +<p>The sky was frequently half covered by a +cloud resembling enormous bays and promontories; +unable to disperse, it would lie motionless, +threatening to burst suddenly over Obrzydłówek +and the distant lonely fields. The fine snow +from this cloud would fasten in crystals on the +window-panes, while the wind made weird penetrating +sounds like an exhausted baby crying out +its last sobs close by at a corner of the house. +Stripped of their leaves and lashed by the driving +snow, wild pear trees swayed their branches over +the distant field paths.... There was something +of a catarrhal melancholy in this landscape, +which unconsciously induced sadness and restless +fear. The same chronic melancholy lasted in +a diminishing degree through the spring and +summer. Without any tangible cause, a malignant +sadness had settled in the doctor's heart. +He had fallen into a fatal state of idleness, so that +it had even become too much effort to read +Alexis' novels.</p> + +<p>Dr. Paweł's "metaphysics," with which he was +seized from time to time, consisted in a few hours' +severe self-examination. This was followed by +a violent inflowing of memories, a hasty amassing +of shreds of knowledge, and a furious struggle of +all his nobler instincts against the stifling inactivity;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +he indulged in reflections, outbursts of +bitterness, firm resolutions, and projects. Naturally +all this led to nothing, and passed in time +like any other more or less acute illness. A good +sleep would cure him of "metaphysics" as of a +headache, and enable him to wake up fresh the +next morning, with more energy to meet the +tedium of daily life, and with a greater mental +capacity for the invention of the most savoury +dishes. This endemia of "metaphysics" made +the doctor realize, however, when his mind was +filled with the philosophy of strong common +sense, that beneath his existence as a well-fed +animal there was a hidden wound, incurable and +unspeakably painful, like that of a diseased bone.</p> + +<p>Dr. Obarecki had come to Obrzydłówek six +years before, directly after completing his medical +training, with a few exceptionally useful ideas in +his mind and a few roubles in his pocket. There +had been a great deal of talk at that time of the +necessity of finding enlightened people who would +settle in God-forsaken backwood places like +Obrzydłówek. He had listened to the apostles +of these schemes. Young, high-minded and +reckless, he had within a month of settling in the +town declared war against the local chemist and +barbers, who encroached upon the medical profession. +It was twenty-five miles to the nearest +larger town, so the local chemist had exploited +the situation. Those who wished to profit by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +his medicaments had to pay a high price for them. +He and the barbers, who got a percentage on +the business, played into each others' hands. +Consequently they were able to build themselves +fine houses and wear "kacalyas" trimmed with +bearskin. They went about with an air of +dignity like "supporters"<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> at the Corpus Christi +procession. When gentle hints and heated arguments +had broken against the chemist's resistance, +who declared the doctor's point of view to be a +youthful Utopia, he scraped together a small +sum and bought a travelling medicine-chest, +which he carried with him on his rounds. He +made up the medicines on the spot, sold them at +a nominal price or gave them away, taught +hygiene, made experiments, and worked perseveringly +and with the utmost enthusiasm, +giving himself no time for proper rest and sleep. +It was a foregone conclusion that when the news +of his portable chemist's shop, his giving his +services to the people free of charge, and other +things illustrating his point of view, became +known, his windows were smashed. As Baruch +Pokoik, the only glazier in Obrzydłówek, was busy +at the time celebrating the Feast of Tabernacles, +the doctor was obliged to paste up the window-panes +with paper, and keep watch at night, +revolver in hand. The windows were, in fact, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +broken periodically, until wooden shutters were +procured for them. Rumours were spread among +the common people that the doctor had intercourse +with evil spirits, while the better educated +were told that he was ignorant of his profession. +Patients who wished to consult him were kept +away by threats and noisy demonstrations outside +the house.</p> + +<p>The young doctor paid no attention to all this, +and relied on the ultimate triumph of truth. +But truth did not triumph—it is difficult to say +why not. By the end of the year his energy was +slowly ebbing away. Close contact with the +ignorant masses had disillusioned him more than +words can say. His lectures on hygiene, entreaties +and arguments had fallen like the seed +on rocky ground. He had done all that was in +his power—and it had been in vain.</p> + +<p>To speak candidly, people can hardly be expected +to restore their neglected health by simple +laws of hygiene when they have to go without +boots in winter, dig up rotten potatoes from +other people's fields in March to get themselves a +meal, and grind alderbark to powder so as to +mix it with a very slender supply of pilfered rye +flour.</p> + +<p>Imperceptibly things began not to matter to +the doctor. "If they will eat rotten potatoes, +let them eat them! I can't help it, even if they +eat them raw...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Jewish inhabitants of the little town were +the only ones who continued to consult the idealist; +they were not frightened by evil spirits, and the +cheapness of the medicines greatly attracted +them.</p> + +<p>One fine morning the doctor awoke to the fact +that the flame of inspiration burning brightly +in him when he came to the little town, and to +which he had trusted to illuminate his path, was +extinguished. It had burnt out of its own accord. +From that moment the travelling dispensary was +locked up, and the doctor was the only one to +profit by its contents. It was bitterly galling to +him to own himself beaten by the chemist and +barbers, and to end the war by locking his medicine-chest +away in his cupboard. They had the right +to boast that they had conquered, and to divide +the spoil. Yet he knew it was not they; he had +been conquered by his own weaker nature. He +had allowed his high aims and noble actions to be +suppressed, maybe because he had begun to attach +too much importance to good dinners. Anyway +they had been suppressed. He still carried on +his practice, but no one seemed to reap any real +benefit from his work.</p> + +<p>By a strange coincidence all the neighbouring +country-houses were in the possession of noble +families of feudal character, who treated the +doctor in an antiquated manner instead of conforming +to the views of the present day. Dr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +Paweł had once paid a call at one of these houses, +which turned out rather a failure. The nobleman +received him in the study, remained in his shirt-sleeves +during the interview, and went on quietly +eating ham, which he cut with a penknife. The +doctor felt his democratic spirit rising within +him, made a few unpleasant remarks to the +Count, and paid no more visits in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>He had therefore no other choice than the +priest and the magistrate. It is dull, however, +to get too much of the priest's company, and +the stories told by the magistrate were not worth +following. So the doctor was left very much to +his own company. To counteract the evil consequences +of living alone, he made up his mind to +get nearer to Nature, to recover his calm and +inner harmony, and regain strength and courage +by the discovery of the links which unite man with +her. He did not, however, discover these links, +though he wandered to the edge of the forest, +and on one occasion sank into a bog in the fields.</p> + +<p>The flat landscape was surrounded on all sides +by a blue-grey belt of forest. A few firs grew here +and there on grey sandhills, and waste strips of +ground, belonging to God knows whom, were +scattered in all directions. The only relief was +given by the meadows covered with goat's-beard +and yellowish grass, but even this withered prematurely—it +was as if the light did not possess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +enough intensity to develop colour. The sun +seemed to shine on that desolate spot only in +order to show how arid and depressing it was.</p> + +<p>Daily the doctor trudged, umbrella in hand, +along the edge of the sandy road, which was full +of holes and marked by a tumbled-down fence. +This road did not seem to lead anywhere, for +it divided into several paths in the middle of +the meadows, and disappeared among molehills. +Later on it reappeared on the top of a sandhill in +the shape of a furrow, and ran into a wood of +dwarf pines.</p> + +<p>Impatient anger seized the doctor when he +looked at that landscape, and a vague feeling of +fear made him restless....</p> + +<p>The years passed.</p> + +<p>The priest's mediation had brought about a +reconciliation between the doctor and the chemist, +now that it was clear that the doctor's zeal +for innovations had cooled. Henceforward the +rivals hobnobbed at whist, although the doctor +always felt a sense of aversion towards the chemist. +By degrees even this slightly lessened. He began +to visit the chemist, and to make himself agreeable +to his wife. On one occasion he was startled +by the result of analyzing his heart, which showed +that he was even capable of falling platonically +in love with Pani Aniela, whose intellect was +as blunt as a sugar-chopper. She was under the +entirely mistaken impression that she was slim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +and irresistible, and talked unceasingly and with +unexceptionable zeal of her servant's wickedness. +Dr. Paweł listened to Pani Aniela's eloquence +for hours together with the stereotyped smile +that appears on the lips of a youth who is making +himself agreeable to beautiful women while suffering +tortures from toothache.</p> + +<p>He was no longer capable of starting democratic +ideas in Obrzydłówek, though for no better purpose +than that of passing the time. He had intended +at first to exchange visits with the butcher, but +now he would not have done it at any price. +If he talked, he preferred that it should be to +people with at least a pretence to education. +Not only had his energy given out, but also all +respect for broader ideas. The wide horizon +which once the idealist's eyes could hardly perceive +had dwindled down to a small circle, measurable +with the toe of a boot. When he had read +socialistic articles during the first stages of his +moral decay, it had been with bitterness and envy, +alternating with the caution of a man who has +a certain amount of experience in these matters. +Gradually he came to reading them with distrust, +then with contempt, and at last he could not +conceive why he had ever troubled himself about +these ideas which had become absolutely indifferent +to him. The longing to make himself +into a centre for intellectual life was far from +him. He doctored according to routine methods,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +and succeeded in working up a fairly good practice +with the maxim: "Pay me and take yourself +off!" His loneliness and the boredom of Obrzydłówek +had become familiar to him.</p> + +<p>And yet, in spite of everything, at this moment +when he sat drumming with his fingers on the +table, "metaphysics" had taken hold of him again. +Already towards the end of the sixteen hours +during which he had been celebrating the priest's +name-day by playing whist, he had begun to +feel uncomfortable. This was due to the chemist's +beginning to talk atheism. Dr. Obarecki knew +the hidden reason for this sudden assault on the +priest's feelings quite well.</p> + +<p>He foresaw that it was meant to be a prelude +to a friendship between him and the chemist +for the purpose of joining hands in a common +utilitarian aim. One would write prescriptions +a yard long, and the other exploit the situation. +Possibly the chemist would soon pay him a visit +and make an open proposal for such a partnership, +and the doctor foresaw that he would not +have the strength of mind to kick him out. He +did not know what reasons to give for the refusal. +The course that the interview would take would +be this: The chemist would touch on the matter +gradually, skilfully, referring to the doctor's need +of capital as the cause of his being in difficulties, +then bring the conversation round to Obrzydłówek +affairs, and point out how much they would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +benefit the community by joining hands; and the +end would be their paddling in the mire together.</p> + +<p>Supposing the partnership existed? What +then...?</p> + +<p>His heart overflowed with bitterness. What +had happened? How could he have gone so far? +Why did he not tear himself out of the mire? +He was an idler, a dreamer, corrupting his own +mind—a horrible caricature of himself.</p> + +<p>As he looked out of the window, he began to +scrutinize his own weaknesses of character in an +extraordinarily minute and merciless examination. +The snow had begun to fall in large flakes, veiling +the melancholy landscape in mist and dimness.</p> + +<p>This capricious and unprofitable train of +thought was suddenly interrupted by loud expostulations +from the housekeeper, who was +trying to persuade someone to go away because +the doctor was not at home. But wishing to +break the tormenting chain of ideas, the doctor +went out into the kitchen. A huge peasant was +standing there, wearing an untanned sheepskin +over his shoulders. He bowed very low to the +doctor, so that his lamb's-wool cap brushed the +floor; then he pushed the hair back from his +forehead, straightened himself, and was preparing +for his speech, when the doctor cut him short.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, the Sołtys<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> has sent me."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> +<p>"Who is ill?"</p> + +<p>"It's the schoolmistress in our village. She's +been taken bad with something. The Sołtys +came to me, and he said: 'Go to Obrzydłówek +for the doctor, Ignaz,' he said.... 'Perhaps,' +he said...."</p> + +<p>"I'll come. Have you got good horses?"</p> + +<p>"Fine fast beasts."</p> + +<p>The doctor welcomed the thought of this drive, +with its physical fatigue and even possible danger. +With sudden animation he put on his stout boots +and sheepskin, slipped into a fur coat large enough +to cover a windmill, strapped on his belt, and +went out. The peasant's "beasts" were sturdy +and well-fed, though not large. The sledge had +high runners and a light wicker body; it was well +supplied with straw and covered with homespun +rugs. The peasant took the front seat, untied +his hempen reins, and gave the horses a cut with +the whip.</p> + +<p>"Is it far?" the doctor asked as they started.</p> + +<p>"A matter of about twenty miles."</p> + +<p>"You won't lose your way?"</p> + +<p>"Who?... I?" He looked round with an +ironical smile.</p> + +<p>The wind across the fields was piercing. The +runners, crooked and badly carved, ploughed +deep furrows in the freshly fallen snow, and piled +it up in ridges on either side. Nothing could be +seen of the road.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> + +<p>The peasant pushed his cap on one side with +a businesslike air, and urged on his horses. They +passed a little wood, and came out on an empty +space bounded by the forest which stood out +against the horizon. The twilight fell, overlaying +this severe desert picture with a blue light, which +deepened over the forest. Balls of snow thrown +up by the horses' hoofs flew past the doctor's +head. He could not tell why he longed to stand +up in the sledge and shout like a peasant with +all his might—shout into that deaf, voiceless, +boundless space which fascinated by its immensity +as a precipice does. A wild and gloomy +night was coming on fast, night such as falls +upon deserted fields.</p> + +<p>The wind increased and roared monotonously, +changing from time to time into a solemn largo. +The snow was driving from the side.</p> + +<p>"Be careful of the road, my friend, else we +shall come to grief," the doctor shouted, immediately +hiding his nose again in his fur collar.</p> + +<p>"Aho, my little ones!" bawled the peasant to +the horses, by way of an answer. His voice was +scarcely audible through the storm. The horses +broke into a gallop.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the snowdrifts began to whirl round +madly: the wind blew in gusts; it buffeted the +side of the sledge; it howled underneath; it took +the men's breath away. The doctor could hear +the horses snorting, but could distinguish neither<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +them nor the driver. Clouds of snow torn from +the ground sped by like a team of horses, and +the thud of their hoofs seemed to fill the air. +A very pandemonium had burst loose, throwing +the power of its sound upward to the clouds, +whence it descended again with a crash. The +smooth surface was dispersed into down which +enveloped the travellers. It was as if monsters +were reeling in a mad giant dance, overtaking +the sledge from behind, running now in front, +now at the sides, and pelting it with handfuls +of snow. Somewhere far away a large bell seemed +to be droning in a hollow monotone.</p> + +<p>The doctor realized that they were no longer +driving on the road; the runners moved forward +with difficulty and struck against the edge of ruts.</p> + +<p>"Where are we, my good fellow?" he exclaimed +in alarm.</p> + +<p>"I am going to the forest by the fields," the +man answered; "we shall get shelter from the +wind under the trees. You can go all the way +to the village through the forest."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the wind soon dropped; +only its distant roar could be heard and the +snapping of branches. The trees, powdered with +snow, stood out against the dark background of +night. It was impossible to proceed quickly +now, for they had to make their way between +snowdrifts and the stems and projecting branches.</p> + +<p>After an hour during which the doctor had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +felt truly uncomfortable and alarmed, he at last +heard the sound of dogs barking.</p> + +<p>"That's our village, sir."</p> + +<p>Dim lights flickered in the distance like moving +spots. There was a smell of smoke.</p> + +<p>"Look sharp, little ones!" the driver cheerily +called out to the horses, and slapped himself +after the manner of drivers.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later they passed at full gallop +a row of cottages, buried in snow up to their +roofs. Heads were outlined in shadow against +the window-panes from which circles of light +fell on to the road.</p> + +<p>"People are having their supper," the peasant +remarked unnecessarily, reminding the doctor +that it was time for the supper which he had no +hope of eating that day.</p> + +<p>The sledge drew up in front of a cottage. +When the driver had accompanied the doctor +through the passage, he disappeared. The doctor +groped for the latch, and entered the miserable +little room, which was lighted by a flickering +paraffin lamp.</p> + +<p>A decrepit old hunchback woman, bent like +the crook of an umbrella handle, started from her +bed on seeing him, and straightened the handkerchief +round her head. She blinked her red +eyes in alarm.</p> + +<p>"Where is the patient?" the doctor asked. +"Have you a samovar?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old woman was so perturbed that she did +not grasp the meaning of his words.</p> + +<p>"Have you a samovar? Can you make me +some tea?"</p> + +<p>"There is the samovar; but as to sugar——"</p> + +<p>"No sugar? What a nuisance!"</p> + +<p>"None, unless Walkowa has some, because +the young lady——"</p> + +<p>"Where is the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"Poor thing! she's lying in the next room."</p> + +<p>"Has she been ill long?"</p> + +<p>"She's been ailing as long as a fortnight. +She was taken bad with something."</p> + +<p>The woman half opened the door of the next +room.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment; I must warm myself," the +doctor said angrily, taking off his fur coat.</p> + +<p>It was not difficult to get warm in that stuffy +little den; the stove threw out a terrific heat, so +that the doctor went into the "young lady's" +room as quickly as possible.</p> + +<p>The lamp that was standing on a table beside +the invalid's pillow had been turned low. It +was not possible to distinguish the schoolmistress's +features, as a large book had been placed as a +screen, and the shadow from it fell on her face. +The doctor carefully turned up the lamp, removed +the book, and looked at her face. She was a +young girl.</p> + +<p>She had sunk into a feverish sleep; her face,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +neck and hands, were flushed scarlet and covered +with a rash. Her ashen-blonde hair, which was +exceptionally thick, was tossed round her face, +and lay in rich tresses on the pillow. Her hands +were plucking deliriously at the coverlet.</p> + +<p>Dr. Paweł bent right down to the sick girl's +face, and suddenly, with a voice stifled by emotion, +repeated:</p> + +<p>"Panna Stanisława, Panna Stanisława, Panna +St——"</p> + +<p>Slowly and with difficulty the sick girl raised +her eyelids, but closed them again immediately. +She stretched herself, drew her head from one +end of the pillow to the other, and gave a painful +low moan. She opened her mouth with an effort +and gasped for breath.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked round the bare, whitewashed +room. He noticed the windows which did not +sufficiently keep out the draught, the girl's shoes, +shrivelled with having been wet through constantly, +the piles of books lying on the table, +the sofa and everywhere.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mad girl, you foolish girl!" he +whispered, wringing his hands. In distress and +alarm he examined her, and took her temperature +with trembling hands.</p> + +<p>"Typhus!" he murmured, turning pale. He +pressed his hand to his throat to stifle the tears +which were choking him like little balls of cotton.</p> + +<p>He knew that he could do nothing for her—that,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +in fact, nothing could be done for her. +Suddenly he gave a bitter laugh when he remembered +that he would be obliged to send the twenty +miles to Obrzydłówek for the quinine and antipyrin +he wanted.</p> + +<p>From time to time Stanisława opened her +glassy, delirious eyes, and looked without seeing +from beneath her long, curling eyelashes. He +called her by the most endearing names, he raised +her head, which the neck seemed hardly able to +support, but all in vain.</p> + +<p>He sat down idly on a stool and stared into +the flame of the lamp. Truly misfortune, like +a deadly enemy, had dealt him a blow unawares +from a blunt weapon. He felt as if he were +being dragged helplessly into a dark, bottomless +pit.</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" he whispered tremblingly.</p> + +<p>The cold blast penetrated through a crack in +the window like a phantom of evil omen. The +doctor felt as if someone had touched him, as if +there were a third person in the room besides +himself and the patient.</p> + +<p>He went into the kitchen and told the servant +to fetch the Sołtys immediately.</p> + +<p>The old woman instantly drew on a pair of +large boots, threw a handkerchief over her head, +and disappeared with a comical hobble.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards the Sołtys appeared.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Listen! Can you find me a man to ride to +Obrzydłówek?"</p> + +<p>"Now, doctor?... Impossible!... There's +a blizzard; he'd be riding to his death. One +wouldn't turn a dog out to-night."</p> + +<p>"I will pay—I will reward him well."</p> + +<p>The Sołtys went out. Dr. Paweł pressed his +temples, which were throbbing as though they +would burst. He sat down on a barrel and +reflected on something which happened long ago.</p> + +<p>Footsteps approached. The Sołtys brought in +a farmer's boy in a tattered sheepskin which did +not reach to his knees, sack trousers, torn boots, +and with a red scarf round his neck.</p> + +<p>"This boy?" the doctor asked.</p> + +<p>"He says he will go—rash youngster! I can +give him a horse. But wherever at this time +of——"</p> + +<p>"Listen! If you come back in six hours, you +will get twenty-five ... thirty roubles from +me ... you will get what you like.... Do +you hear?"</p> + +<p>The boy looked at the doctor as if he meant +to say something, but he refrained. He wiped +his nose with his fingers, shuffled awkwardly, and +waited.</p> + +<p>The doctor went back to the school-teacher's +bedroom. His hands were shaking, and went up +to his temples automatically. He thought of a +prescription, wrote it, scratched through what he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +had written, tore it up, and wrote a letter to the +chemist instead, begging him to despatch a horseman +to the town at once, to ask the doctor to +send him some quinine. He bent over the sick +girl and examined her afresh; then he went +into the kitchen and handed the letter to the +boy.</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," he said in a strange, unnatural +voice, laying his hand on the lad's shoulder and +slightly shaking him, "ride as fast as the horse +will go—never mind him getting winded.... +Do you hear, my boy?"</p> + +<p>The lad bowed to the ground and went out with +the Sołtys.</p> + +<p>"Is it long since the teacher settled here with +you in the village?" Dr. Paweł asked the old +woman who was cowering by the stove.</p> + +<p>"It's about three winters."</p> + +<p>"Three winters! Did no one live here with +her?"</p> + +<p>"Who should there be but me? She took me +into her service, poor wretch that I am. 'You'll +not find a place anywhere else, granny,' she said, +'but there isn't much to do for me, only just a +bit here and there.' And now here we are; I'd +promised myself that she would bury me.... +God be merciful to us sinners!..."</p> + +<p>She began unexpectedly to whisper a prayer, +detaching one word from the other, and moving +her lips from side to side like a camel. Her head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +shook and the tears flowed down the wrinkles +into her toothless mouth.</p> + +<p>"She was good——"</p> + +<p>Granny began snivelling, and gesticulated +wildly, as if she meant to drive the doctor away +from her. He returned to the sick-room and +began to walk up and down on tiptoe. Round +after round he walked after his usual habit. +Now and then he stopped beside the bed and +muttered between his teeth with a rage that made +his lips pale:</p> + +<p>"What a fool you have been! It is not only +impossible to live like that, but it is not even +worth while. You can't make the whole of your +life one single performance of duty. Those idiots +will take it all without understanding; they will +drag you to it by the rope round your neck, and +if you let your foolish illusions run away with +you, death will make you its victim; for you are +too beautiful, too much beloved——"</p> + +<p>As fire licks up dry wood, so a past and long-forgotten +feeling took possession of him. It +revived in him with the strength and the +treacherous sweetness of former years. He persuaded +himself that he had never forgotten her, +that he had worshipped and remembered her up +to that very moment. He gazed into the well-known +face with an insatiable curiosity, and a +dumb, piercing pain began to devour his heart +as he thought that for three years she had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +living here, near him, and he only heard of it +when death was on the point of taking her away +from him.</p> + +<p>All that was befalling him this day seemed to +be the consequence of his animal existence, +which had led him nowhere except to burrow +in the ground. Yet he felt as if suddenly a +mysterious horizon opened out before him, an +ocean spreading far away into the mist.</p> + +<p>With all the effort of impatient despair he +grasped at memories, seeking refuge in them +from an intolerable reality; he plunged into them +as into the rosy halo of a summer dawn. He +felt he must be alone, if only for a moment, to +think and think. He slipped into a third room +which was filled with forms and tables. Here he +sat down in the dark to collect his thoughts and +contrive some way of saving his patient.</p> + +<p>But he began to recall memories:</p> + +<p>He was then a poor student in his last year. +When he went to the hospital on winter mornings, +he stepped carefully so that not everyone should +notice how cleverly the holes in his boots had +been mended with cardboard. His overcoat was +as tight as a strait-jacket, and so threadbare that +the old-clothes man would not even give a florin +for it when he tried to sell it in the summer. +Poverty made him pessimistic, and produced +that state of sadness which is more than mere +unpleasant depression, but less than actual suffering.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +To be roused from it, one need only eat +a chop or drink a glass of tea; but he frequently +had no tea to drink, to say nothing of a dinner +to eat. He used to run along the muddy Dłvga +Street so as to enter the gate of the Saski Gardens +by a quarter to nine.</p> + +<p>Here he would meet a young girl and walk +past her, looking at her long, heavy, ashen-blonde +pigtails. She would not look up, but knitted her +brows, which reminded one of the narrow, straight +wings of a bird. He used to meet her there daily +in the same place. She always walked quickly +to the suburb beyond, where she entered a tram +going to Praga.</p> + +<p>She was not more than seventeen, but looked +like a little old maid in her handkerchief thrown +carelessly over her fur cap, in her clumsy, old-fashioned +cloak, and shoes a size too large for her +small feet. She always carried books, maps, and +writing materials under her arm. On one occasion, +finding himself in possession of a few pence, +which were to have paid for his dinner, he was +resolved to discover what her daily destination +was. He therefore set out in pursuit, and entered +the same car, but after he had sat down all his +courage had failed him. The unknown measured +him with such a look of absolute disdain that he +jumped out of the tram immediately, having +lost his bowl of broth and achieved nothing.</p> + +<p>Yet he felt no grudge towards her; on the contrary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> +this had only raised her in his estimation. +He thought about her unconsciously and uninterruptedly; +he strove through the course of +whole hours to call to mind her hair, her eyes, +her mouth, the colour of her lips. And yet he +strained his memory in vain. For scarcely had +she vanished from his sight than her features +vanished from his memory. Instead there was +left a vision like a white cloud without any distinct +features; it seemed to hover over him. His +thoughts pursued that cloud in longing and +humble timidity, with a touch of unconscious +regret, sadness, and sympathy, which dominated +him altogether.</p> + +<p>He used to go every morning to compare the +living girl with his vision, and the reality seemed +to him the more beautiful of the two; her eyes, +thoughtful, and clear like a spring, filled him with +a certain sense of awe.</p> + +<p>At that time one of his fellow-students, nicknamed +"Movement in Space," unexpectedly got +married. He was a great "social reformer," +continually writing endless prefaces to works he +never finished for lack of the necessary books of +reference. His wife was a feminist and as poor as +a church mouse. Her dowry consisted in an +old carpet, two stewing-pans, a plaster cast of +Mickiewicz, and a pile of school prizes. The +young couple lived on the fourth floor and +promptly began to starve. They both gave private<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +lessons so zealously that after separating in the +morning they did not meet again till the evening. +Nevertheless their house began to be the centre +towards which each "social reformer" wended his +way in his dirty boots, in order to sit for a while +on the "Movement's" soft sofa, smoke his cigars, +argue till he was hoarse, and in the end contribute +a few pence towards the entertainment. The +amiable hostess bought rolls and sausages, which +she arranged artistically on a plate and handed +round to her guests. You were always sure to +meet someone interesting here, to become acquainted +with great people as yet unknown to +their age, and possibly you might even have a +chance of borrowing sixpence.</p> + +<p>Obarecki had turned pale with joy when one +evening, on entering the room, he had found his +beloved among the circle of friends. He had +talked to her and lost his head completely. While +walking home with the others that evening, he +had had a longing to be alone—neither to dream +nor to think of her, but just to steep his soul in +her presence, see her and hear the sound of her +voice, think as she did, and let the pictures which +rose in his imagination take possession of him. +He now distinctly remembered her wonderful +eyes, with their bewildering depth, severe yet +sympathetic, gentle and mysterious. He had +experienced a feeling of joy and repose; as if, +after a hot, wearisome journey, he had lighted upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +a cool spring, hidden in the shade of pines on a +high hill.</p> + +<p>They had surrounded her with respect, and +seemed to attach special importance to her +words. In introducing Obarecki, the "Movement" +had said, with an air of importance, +"Obarecki, a thinker, a dreamer, a great idler, +yet the coming man—Panna Stanisława, our +Darwinist."</p> + +<p>The "great idler" had not been able to ascertain +much about the "Darwinist"; merely that +she had left the High School, was giving lessons, +and intended to go to Paris or Zurich to study +medicine, but had not a penny to bless herself with.</p> + +<p>From that time onwards they frequently +met in their friends' rooms. Panna Stanisława +would sometimes bring a pound of sugar under +her cloak, or a cold cutlet wrapped in paper, or a +few rolls; Obarecki never brought anything, for +he had nothing to bring; but instead he devoured +the rolls and the "Darwinist" with his eyes.</p> + +<p>One night, when escorting her home, he got +as far as proposing to her. She only broke into +a hearty laugh and took leave of him with a friendly +grasp of the hand. Shortly afterwards she had +disappeared; he heard that she had gone as +governess into some aristocratic family in Podolia.</p> + +<p>And now he had found her again in this forsaken +corner, in this forest village inhabited only +by peasants, with not a single intelligent person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +near her. She had been living here all alone in +this wilderness. And now she was dying.... +All his former enthusiasm, and the unfulfilled +dreams and desires of past days, suddenly sprang +up within him and struck him like gusts of wind. +A deadly pain seized his heart, and the poison of +passion took hold of his blood. He returned on +tiptoe to the sick-room, rested his elbows on the +bed, and feasted on the sight of the marvellous +contours of her bare shoulders and the lines of +her bosom and neck. The girl was asleep; the +veins on her temples were swollen, the corners of +her mouth were moist, she exhaled fever heat, +and drew in the air with a loud whistling sound. +Dr. Paweł sat down beside her on the edge of +the bed, gently fondled the ends of her soft, +bright hair, and stroked it along his face, sobbing +while he kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Stasia, Stachna! Dearest!" he whispered +low. "You are not going to run away from me +again, are you?... Never! ... you will be +mine for ever ... do you hear?—for ever...."</p> + +<p>The exuberance of youth awoke in him from +its lethargy. Henceforth everything would be +different; he felt a great strength in him for doing +his work with his heart in it. Pain and hope were +mingled as in a flame which consumed him and +gave him no respite.</p> + +<p>The night wore on. Though the hours went +by slowly, more than six had passed since the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +messenger left. It was four o'clock in the morning. +The doctor listened, starting up at every +sound. He fancied each moment that someone +was coming—opening the door—tapping at the +window. He strained and strained with his +whole organism to listen. The wind howled, +the door of the stove rattled; then again there was +silence. The minutes passed like ages; his nerves, +overstrained by impatience, threw him into a state +of trembling all over.</p> + +<p>When he took her temperature for the sixth +time, the sick girl slowly opened her eyes; they +looked almost black under their shade of dark +lashes. Straining to look at him, she said in a +hoarse voice:</p> + +<p>"Who's that?"</p> + +<p>But she fell back at once into her former state +of unconsciousness. He cherished this moment +as if it were a treasure. Oh, if only he had some +quinine to lessen the pain in her head and restore +her to consciousness! But the messenger had not +arrived, and did not arrive.</p> + +<p>Before dawn Dr. Obarecki walked the length +of the village through the deep snowdrifts, deluding +himself with a last hope of seeing the boy. +An evil foreboding penetrated his heart like the +point of a needle. The wind still howled in the +bare branches of the wayside poplars with a +hollow sound, although the storm had abated. +Women were coming out of the cottages to fetch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +water, their skirts tucked up above their knees. +The farm lads were busy with the cattle; smoke +was rising from the chimneys. Here and there +a cloud of steam issued from a door which was +opened for an instant.</p> + +<p>The doctor found the Sołtys' house, and ordered +horses to be put in at once. Two pairs were +harnessed, and a lad drove them up to the school. +The doctor took leave of the patient with eyes +dilated with fatigue and despair, got into the +sledge, and drove to Obrzydłówek.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He returned at two o'clock in the afternoon, +bringing drugs, wine, and a store of provisions. +He had stood up in the sledge almost all the way, +longing to jump out and run faster than the horses, +which were going at a gallop. He drove straight +up to the school, but what he saw made him +powerless to move from his seat.... A short, +stifled cry burst from his lips, twisted with pain, +when he saw that the windows were thrown wide +open. A throng of children were crowded together +in the passage. White as a sheet he walked to +the window and looked in, standing there with +his elbows resting on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>On a bench in the schoolroom lay the naked +body of the young teacher; two old women were +washing it. Tiny snowflakes flew in through the +window and rested on the shoulders, damp hair, +and half-open eyes of the dead girl.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bent double, as though bearing a mountain-load +on his shoulders, the doctor entered the little +bedroom. He sat down and repeated dully: "It +is so—it is so!" He felt as if huge rusty wheels +were turning with a terrific rattle in his head.</p> + +<p>Stasia's bed was all in disorder; the window-frames +rattled monotonously; the leaves of her +plants were being caught by the frost, and drooped.</p> + +<p>Through the half-open door the doctor saw +some peasants kneeling round the body, which was +now clothed; the children too had come in and +were reading prayers from books; the carpenter +was taking measurements for the coffin. He +went in and gave orders in a husky voice for the +coffin to be made of unplaned boards, and a heap +of shavings to be placed under the head.</p> + +<p>"Nothing else ... do you hear?" he said +to the carpenter with suppressed rage. "Four +boards ... nothing else...."</p> + +<p>He remembered that someone ought to be informed—her +family.... Where was her +family? With an aimless activity he began to +arrange her books, school-registers, notebooks and +manuscripts into a pile. Among the papers he +came upon the beginning of a letter.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Helenka</span>" (it ran)—"I have felt so ill +for some days past that I am probably going into +the presence of Minos and Rhadamanthus, Aeacus, +Triptolemus, and many others of the kind. In +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>case of my removing to another place, please ask +the Mayor of my village to send you all my +property, consisting of books. I have at last +finished my little primer, <i>Physics for the People</i>, +over which we have so often racked our brains. +Unfortunately I have not made a fair copy. If +you have time—in case of my removal—arrange +for the publication at once. Let Anton copy +it out; he will do this for me.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother!... I just remember I owe our +bookseller eleven roubles sixty-five kopeks; pay +him with my winter coat, for I have no money.... +Take for yourself in remembrance...."</p></div> + +<p>The last words were illegible. There was no +address; it was not possible to send off the letter. +The doctor discovered the manuscript of the +<i>Physics</i> in the table drawer. It consisted of +notes on slips of paper, mixed up with rubbish +of all kinds. There was a little underlinen, a +cloak lined with catskin, and an old black skirt, +in the wardrobe.</p> + +<p>While the doctor busied himself in this way, +he suddenly noticed the boy who had been sent +for the remedies in the schoolroom. He was +huddled against a corner of the stove, treading +from one foot to the other. Savage hatred +sprang up in the doctor's heart.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not come back in time?" he +cried, running up to the boy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I lost my way in the fields ... the horse +gave out.... I arrived on foot in the morning ... +the young lady was already——"</p> + +<p>"You lie!"</p> + +<p>The boy did not answer. The doctor looked +into his eyes, and was overcome by a strange +feeling. Those eyes were weary and terrible; a +peasant's stupid, mute, wild despair lurked in +them as in an underground cavern.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir, I have brought back the books the +teacher lent me," he said, drawing some worn, +soiled books from under his coat.</p> + +<p>"Leave me alone! Be off!" the doctor cried, +turning away and hurrying into the next room.</p> + +<p>Here he stood among the rubbish, the books +and papers thrown on the floor, and asked himself +with a harsh laugh: "What am I doing here? +I am no good; I have no right to be here!"</p> + +<p>A feeling of profound reverence made him +think the dead girl's thoughts in deep humility. +Had he remained an hour longer, he would have +risen to the heights where madness dwells. Without +wishing to confess it to himself, he knew that +it was fear on his own account which was taking +possession of him. Throughout all that was +overwhelming him at this moment, he felt that, +a great lack of balance was threatening to deprive +him of the essence of human feeling—of egoism. +To stifle egoism would mean his allowing himself +to be enveloped by the same rosy mist which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +transported this girl from the earth. He must +escape at once. Having decided on this, he +began to despair in beautiful phrases which +immediately brought him considerable relief. He +ordered the sledge to be brought round.... +Bending over Stasia's body, he whispered all the +beautiful, empty things which people say in +praise of greatness. He lingered once more in +the doorway and looked back; for a second he +wondered whether it would not be better to die +at once. Then he pushed past the peasants +crowding round the door, sprang into the sledge, +tripped himself up, tumbled on his face, and was +carried off, stifled by spasmodic sobs.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Stanisława's death exercised so much influence +over Dr. Paweł's disposition that for some time +afterwards, in his leisure moments, he read Dante's +<i>Divine Comedy</i>; he gave up playing whist, and +dismissed his housekeeper, aged twenty-four. But +gradually he grew calm. He is now doing exceedingly +well; he has grown stout, and has made +a nice little sum. He has even revived some of +his optimistic tendencies. For thanks to his +energetic agitation, all the world in Obrzydłówek, +with the exception of a few conservatives, +is now smoking cigarettes rolled by themselves, +instead of buying ready-made ones which are +known to be injurious.</p> + +<p>At last!...</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CHUKCHEE</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> WACŁAW SIEROSZEWSKI</div> + + +<p>The country was shrouded in the bitter Arctic +night. Cold mists swept along the ground below; +a dark sky, spangled with stars, stretched above.</p> + +<p>A man was standing on the steps of a little +house with small windows and a flat roof; his head +was bare, his hands were thrust deep into his +pockets. He was gazing fixedly towards the +south, where the first dawn was to break upon +the long darkness. At times he fancied that he +could already see it there, for something seemed +to quiver in the infinite darkness; but then the +changing mist merely swayed to and fro, and the +stars trembled on the horizon. His weary eyes +therefore turned towards the little town; his +house stood on the outskirts of it. Lights were +twinkling in the windows there, and the dogs in +the various backyards were yelping and howling +loudly in chorus. "Oh, how deadly this is!" +he thought—"enough to drive anyone mad. +And in a frost like this it's certain no one will +come."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was just turning to go indoors, when he +caught the sound of snow creaking under +quick footsteps. He began to listen; the footsteps +turned into the path leading up to his +house.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Józef?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; how are you?" a voice, hoarse with +the frost, cried from a distance; and presently a +man of middle height, dressed in fur from head to +foot, emerged from the darkness. "What are +you doing, you silly fellow, standing out here in +a blouse in cold like this? You are certain to +catch pneumonia."</p> + +<p>"And why not?... A year sooner or +later——"</p> + +<p>"All very fine! But I confess to you, Stefan, +I shouldn't like to die here. One can't even +decay like a human being; one would have to +lie here for centuries like an ice statue, while the +dogs would howl and howl——"</p> + +<p>"Well, they are howling unbearably now; it's +as if they scented something. They are worse +than ever to-day."</p> + +<p>"They are certain to smell something; in the +town they say that the Chukchee are encamping +here, and I have just come to tell you of it. But +let us go indoors; it's terribly cold, worse than it +has yet been this year."</p> + +<p>They went in. Stefan lighted the fire and +busied himself with getting tea ready; Józef<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +threw off his furs and paced up and down the +room with long strides.</p> + +<p>"I say! This news is not quite without importance +for us."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"That they have come."</p> + +<p>"The Chukchee?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes!"</p> + +<p>Stefan burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"It's imperative for us to make friends with +them; they are said to trade with America."</p> + +<p>"Then with whom are we to make friends? +With the Yankees?"</p> + +<p>"No, with the Chukchee. Do be serious. +You must do it, and it will be easy enough for +you with your workshop,—all kinds of people +constantly come to you. I will persuade Buza, +the Cossack, to bring them; you will have a first-rate +interpreter."</p> + +<p>"By all means persuade Buza——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop that! You always pretend to be +indifferent to everything. If I had your health +and strength, and were as clever——"</p> + +<p>"Then you would be as homesick as I am, and +pretend to care as little——"</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I am not homesick?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't think you are—not in the least. +You have a happy disposition, and can distract +yourself with books and plans and dreaming, even +if it is only for a short time. I must live, work,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +be active; I need impressions from outside. +Otherwise I go utterly to pieces; I feel that I am +slowly dying."</p> + +<p>They sat down to tea and chatted until midnight. +In that continuous darkness the late +hours of night differed from the rest in the position +of the stars, a harder frost with louder +reports of the cracking ground, the fact that +the fires in the cottages were extinguished, and +the quieter but more dismal howling of the +dogs.</p> + +<p>"Then remember that I will bring them. Do +something to take their fancy; you know how to +do it."</p> + +<p>"Very good. It just happens that I have the +District Administrator's musical box here to +repair; I will play it to them."</p> + +<p>"That will delight them. 'A talking box'—I +can imagine what they will say! And don't +forget to buy vodka for them, and to entertain +Buza also. We shall have need of him. I don't +yet know what we shall decide upon—I don't +even try to think about it; but I feel that something +will come of this...."</p> + +<p>"What?... Nothing will come of it. There +will not even be any vodka left as a result, for +they will drink it all up."</p> + +<p>"You horrible pessimist! You always poison +everything for me!" Józef cried from the hall, +and he banged the door after him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>Stefan stood in the middle of the room for a +long while, listening to Józef's brisk footsteps. +He was smiling, for he liked to be accused of +being a pessimist.</p> + +<p>A few days later, sitting at the table with his +back towards the door, and busy with his work, +he heard a curious noise outside—someone stamping +and pulling at the strap which served as +a latch, as if unused to it.</p> + +<p>Stefan turned his head inquiringly, and at the +same moment a flat, brown face appeared in the +doorway.</p> + +<p>"Go in! Go in! You will let the cold into +the cottage," someone cried from the hall.</p> + +<p>Stefan recognized Buza's voice.</p> + +<p>"Come in, by all means!"</p> + +<p>"They have no manners. They are real +Chukchee. This one is called Wopatka; he has +been baptized. He is rather a drunkard, and +rather a thief, but a good fellow. And this one—it's +better not to touch him—is Kituwia.... +Don't touch him!"</p> + +<p>The natives stood quietly in the middle of the +room, and looked round inquisitively, but without +the slightest bewilderment. Their furs, which +they wore with the skin turned to the inside, +hung about them heavily and clumsily. They +appeared to Stefan to be very much alike. But +Kituwia had a darker complexion, and there was +evidence in his unmoving face, erect head, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +compressed lips of a hard pride, amounting to +contempt for all and everything.</p> + +<p>Wopatka fell into a broad grin as he glanced +eagerly with his slanting eyes round the room, +which was so large and well furnished in comparison +with his own tent.</p> + +<p>"Take off your cap," Buza said to him, nudging +him with his elbow.</p> + +<p>Wopatka hastily pulled off his cap and showed +the usual conical-shaped Chukchee head.</p> + +<p>Kituwia had no cap. His long, thick, tousled +hair was held back by a narrow strap tied just +above his forehead. A similar strap from his +low-cut skin jerkin crossed his bare chest and +neck. He gave Stefan a sharp look, and uttered +a few disconnected guttural sounds to his companion.</p> + +<p>"There! Do you hear?" Buza said with a +laugh. "They speak exactly like reindeer. They +believe in reindeer, too; they think they will +always have them in the next world. But Pan +Józef told me to bring them, so I have brought +them."</p> + +<p>"Very good. I will get tea for you at once—or +perhaps vodka would be better?"</p> + +<p>"That would be better, for they don't think +much of tea."</p> + +<p>Stefan showed them a magnet, and made the +cuckoo-clock strike to amuse them. He had a +certain amount of success with the clock; Wopatka<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +was delighted, but Kituwia's restrained manner +threw a chill over everything. The fire crackled +merrily in the chimney; the guests threw off +their furs and lolled on the benches; Buza burst +out laughing from time to time, and Wopatka +chuckled quietly, but Kituwia ran his keen glance +from one object to another. However, at last +even his face lighted up, and, uttering a smothered +cry, he pointed to some large stones tied as a +weight to the drying reindeer sinews. The guests +formed a circle round these and tried to lift them +with outstretched arms, but only Kituwia could +do this.</p> + +<p>When Stefan did the same, the native's face +brightened with a look of friendliness. He called +Stefan "brother," and passed his hand caressingly +over his back and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"He is praising you and asking why he never +sees you among the people round the tavern."</p> + +<p>"Tell him that I haven't time; I am +busy."</p> + +<p>While Buza was explaining this, Kituwia's face +assumed an expression of stony contempt.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't believe that you are a smith—and +that you are respected by the District Administrator +all the same. He is just an ignorant +native. With them a strong man only drinks +and fights, and looks upon the rest as low."</p> + +<p>The guests conscientiously ate and drank what +was offered them. At parting Wopatka said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +"Brother! Brother!" a countless number of +times. The disagreeable smell of badly tanned +reindeer skin and rancid reindeer grease remained +behind them when they were gone.</p> + +<p>"Your fame will spread among the Chukchee; +you will have no peace now," Buza said to Stefan +in the hall. "We thank you for your invitation. +When will you send for us again?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Pan Józef!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well, did they come?" Józef asked on the +following day.</p> + +<p>"I should rather think so! I was obliged to +air the room for several hours afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Did they not invite you to visit them?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"We must have patience. They will invite +us. Buza told me they are enchanted."</p> + +<p>"Buza himself seemed to be the most enchanted. +He ate and drank enough for three."</p> + +<p>"And Wopatka?"</p> + +<p>"What is there to say about him? He certainly +seems a good hand at vodka. He is not +up to much."</p> + +<p>"No need to despise people like that; they will +prepare the way excellently, and others will +follow. One must wait patiently; I beg you be +patient. I will arrange it. Last night I went to +see Father Pantelay, the missionary. He is +learning Chukchee. By-and-by we may be able<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +to do something. We must learn to understand +their customs and be friendly with them, so that +they may get to like us. Don't grumble about +them."</p> + +<p>"I am not grumbling, but—they sat here too +long."</p> + +<p>"Well, we also have been sitting here too long."</p> + +<p>Several days passed. The Chukchee did not +show themselves. Despite his assumed indifference +and incredulity, Stefan was a little anxious, +and looked round hastily every time the door +opened.</p> + +<p>It was late. Having just finished his work, +and blown out the candle for the sake of economy, +Stefan was musing in the firelight, when his +attention was attracted by unusual sounds from +outside—a curious noise and shuffling. Then the +house door opened violently and banged to; +someone rushed panting into the room and held +the door against someone else who tried to open it. +Stefan jumped up in astonishment and hastily +lighted the candle. A Chukchee was standing +at the door, covered with snow. He had wound +the latch strap round his hand, and, steadying +himself with his foot against the door, was pulling +at it with all his might. It shook in the struggle. +The native looked at Stefan, made an imploring +gesture, and showed that he was defenceless. +From the hall came the sound of an impatient, +hoarse voice cursing, accompanied by heavy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +kicks on the door. Stefan fancied that he recognized +the voice.</p> + +<p>"Who's there? Stop that kicking at once! +To the devil with you!" he exclaimed angrily.</p> + +<p>The tugging ceased. There was a sound of +muttering for some time longer, but when footsteps +were heard approaching the unknown person +left the hall. The Chukchee dropped the strap +and turned to Stefan.</p> + +<p>"Brother! Gem Kamakatan"—and he +pointed to himself—"Gem no knife ... Gem +... brother!" He made a pretence of falling to +indicate that he would have been killed. His +eyes were friendly; his fat, ugly face, with its +wide, extended nostrils, expressed emotion and +gratitude. "Brother! Anoai! Anoai!"</p> + +<p>He went to the fire and began to shake the +snow out of his skin jerkin. His furs, hair, and +ears were full of it. He indicated by violent +shuddering that he was wet, and that the water +was running down his body under his clothes. +He began to fain shivering and dying.</p> + +<p>Stefan knew perfectly well that in weather as +cold as this even a Chukchee would freeze to +death in damp clothes. He guessed what the +native wanted, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"Gem Kamakatan" laughed and began to +undress quickly. The next moment he emerged +from his furs naked like a Greek statue, and +Stefan watched with interest what would happen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +further. The Chukchee calmly hung his clothes +in front of the fire, looked round, and, seeing +Stefan's bed ready for the night, jumped in with +great glee and disappeared under the quilt.</p> + +<p>All this was done so adroitly and unexpectedly +that Stefan could not help bursting out laughing. +The Chukchee drew his head from under the quilt +again, and repeated in a friendly way: "Brother! +Brother!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Well, has he been here?" asked Józef, coming +in at his usual hour.</p> + +<p>"He is here even now."</p> + +<p>Stefan told his friend of the whole strange +adventure.</p> + +<p>"Excellent! Excellent! Things are moving," +the latter repeated, walking on tiptoe.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing excellent about it. I wish +he were sleeping in your bed. He looks as if he +had never washed or combed himself in his life. +If he had at least cut his hair; but he wears it +long, as if he wished to make himself objectionable +like Kituwia."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing; these things are comparative +trifles. Let me see him. The longer his hair is, +the better; for in that case he is a warrior and a +celebrity. Did he tell you his name?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's something queer like Gem Kamaka."</p> + +<p>They took the candle and went cautiously up +to the bed where the native, with his copper face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +in an aureole of long matted hair, lay asleep on +a white European pillow. Suddenly his eyelids +quivered and his eyes opened wide. For a +moment he looked in astonishment at the men +standing beside him; then he jumped up and +stretched out his bare arm with a despairing +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Brother! Brother!" he whispered—"Anoai!"</p> + +<p>"Brother!" Stefan quickly repeated, touching +him kindly.</p> + +<p>The native's face brightened with a childish +laugh. He jumped lightly out of bed and ran +for his clothes.</p> + +<p>"A fine model!" Józef exclaimed, slapping +his back in a friendly way.</p> + +<p>The native turned round with a start. In order +to reassure him, therefore, Józef went through +the whole of his Chukchee vocabulary; and +though "Gem-Kamaka" certainly did not understand +much of this disconnected conversation, he +grinned and repeated every word. His clothes +being still wet, he sat down as he was at the table +where the friends were drinking tea, and consented +to eat something too, talking uninterruptedly +in his reindeer dialect, and showing his large +white teeth as he laughed heartily. Before he +left he again laid his hand gratefully on Stefan's +shoulder and said "Brother!" He also promised +to bring his wife and parents to see him.</p> + +<p>"And bring Buza, Wopatka, and Kituwia."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Chukchee's face clouded a moment. "Very +well—and Buza and Wopatka. We will drink +vodka," he said in the local Russian-Chukchee +jargon.</p> + +<p>"We will drink vodka."</p> + +<p>After he was gone Józef embraced Stefan +excitedly.</p> + +<p>"This is splendid—first-rate! I already see +myself on the ship."</p> + +<p>A considerable time passed; the continuous +darkness began to be pierced by rosy gleams. +But nothing was heard of the Chukchee. On the +contrary, it appeared to Stefan as if those who +came into the town avoided him. When Kituwia +met him, he did not come near or even nod to him: +sometimes he stared at Stefan with a threatening +look in his eyes. Wopatka turned aside when he +saw him in the street. "Gem Kamatakan" gave no +news of himself, and Buza, on being questioned, +declared that he really knew nothing about him.</p> + +<p>"Gem-Kama, did you say? That's not even +a name, let alone its having any meaning. I +know every Chukchee word, but I never heard +that. Perhaps he is one of those natives who +live without faith or law in outlandish parts of +the country—in a word, a brigand. But never +fear; I have only to find out where 'Gem-Kama' +is, and I will get him here. But what brought him +to you two gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"What brought him? He came of his own +accord."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>Buza looked at Józef suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"The Chukchee say that Pan Stefan and a +Chukchee together beat Kituwia; only the Chukchee +was not called Gem-Kam, but Otowaka. +The Chukchee in this district respect Kituwia +very much, and are afraid of him. They say +that he is a true Chukchee—a warrior. They +are a wild people, but they have their customs; +they are not like the Yakut."</p> + +<p>"But it's not true! Nothing of the kind happened. +Ask Kituwia."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you; he would only knock me +down! A man must not only be careful not to ask +him about it, but must not even show that he +knows. Wopatka told me of it."</p> + +<p>"Where are we to look for you if we need you?"</p> + +<p>"People will tell you where;—the tavern is +the best, for a good deal of business of different +kinds is being done with the Chukchee just now, +and I am interpreter. You can't get them to do +anything without vodka."</p> + +<p>A few more days had passed, when suddenly +such a remarkable thing happened that all the +inhabitants of the little town came out to watch +it. A number of festively dressed Chukchee on +two sledges, each drawn by two pairs of fine +reindeer, drove up at full gallop to Stefan's house. +Stefan went out on to the steps to meet them. +The first to alight was an old Chukchee, dressed +in a costly "docha" made of black rat, skilfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +embroidered, and edged with beaver. He supported +himself as he walked by resting his hand +lightly on the shoulders of his sons, who held his +feet by the ankles and respectfully placed them +on the steps. They were followed by a boy of +nine, his head bare and his hair closely cropped, +and then came two small, alert, queer-looking +individuals. One wore a docha of black rat, +similar to the old man's but not so good; the +second had no outer wrap at all, but, dressed in +tight-fitting fur, looked like a gnome escaped +from the forest. By their plaits, which were +bound up with tinkling silver ornaments, and by +the raspberry-coloured silk handkerchiefs across +their foreheads, Stefan knew that these were +ladies. They were both tattooed. The elder +one had blue waving lines worked in silk on her +forehead and cheeks; the younger had deep scars +along her nose and chin. Her figure was not +without charm; she was slim, and moved gracefully. +She had the Chukchee woman's eyes, and +her face, which was rather large, expressed a +certain amount of determination. The general +impression was spoilt, however, by a nervous habit +of looking behind her.</p> + +<p>"Well, here they are!" Józef cried, hurrying +in after the guests. "Receive them somehow, +and I will fetch Buza at once."</p> + +<p>"Anoai! Anoai!" the Chukchee greeted their +host.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were too many guests for the available +seats, so Stefan pulled out some rugs from a corner +and spread them in the middle of the floor. Sitting +down on them in a circle, the natives began to +chatter. One of the old man's sons was the +Chukchee who had dried his clothes at Stefan's +fire. He was evidently relating the adventure—certainly +not for the first time. Yet they all +listened attentively, assenting with friendly +grunts and looking with interest at the bed; the +younger woman even jumped up and peeped under +the quilt, whereupon they all burst out laughing. +When the clock struck, the cuckoo and its movements +and sound made an immense impression, +and the little boy shouted with delight. They +all jumped up and stood in front of the clock, +imitating it, and when the door shut with a snap +behind the little bird they sprang away in fright +at first, but ended by laughing loudly. However, +the old man could put a stop to their merriment +in a moment if he chose.</p> + +<p>Buza, Wopatka, and Józef now came in.</p> + +<p>"Well, I told you so! It's Otowaka, not Gemka. +There's certainly no such person as Gemka, and +'gem-kamatakan' means in Chukchee, 'I am ill.' +It's a great honour that old Otowaka has come +to you himself. He's very proud, and the richest +man in the country—quite the richest. You have +been most successful."</p> + +<p>He sat down in the circle of Chukchee with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +Wopatka, who kept a little behind him. Józef +helped Stefan to prepare the feast and boil the +samovar. They sent out for water.</p> + +<p>"He is a much-respected man. He has innumerable +reindeer, three wives in three different +places, and six sons," Buza said, growing proportionately +communicative as the vodka and +food disappeared. "You have been very successful. +He is rewarding you and doing you +honour. You have only to go to him, and he will +give you valuable furs; he will even give a daughter +to each of you. He has beautiful daughters; I +saw them in the town as they passed through in +the caravan. For these Otowakas come from a +long distance, so they travel in caravans. He +evidently wants to ask you to do some work for +him, for he wished to know whether you were a +good locksmith and could put together a foreign +rifle which has been taken to pieces. The Americans +always sell them arms without cock or trigger. +So I told him you had clever fingers, and that +even the District Inspector thinks highly of you. +The old man listened to this carefully. He is sure +to offer you a present, and you must take it, +or he will be very much offended."</p> + +<p>The magnet and other wonders Stefan was able +to show them caused the greatest delight to the +natives, but their merriment reached its height +when Józef started to play the barrel organ. +They hung over the box, laid their ears to it, poked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +their noses into it, grunted and stamped in rhythm, +and finally began to move in a slow dance. Their +eyes laughed, and their faces shone with grease +and perspiration.</p> + +<p>"Hey! Come along! Jump up, Wopatka! Now, +that's most graceful!" Buza exclaimed, pulling +the Chukchee, who was half tipsy, by the arm.</p> + +<p>At that moment the door opened wide and +Kituwia appeared on the threshold. Józef, very +much pleased, went towards him, but the Chukchee +neither stirred nor gave the usual greeting, +"Anoai!" He closed the door behind him, and, +leaning against it, held out one hand in an attitude +of defence, and laid the other on his neck. His +hair stood out wildly from under the leather band, +and his eyes glowed with a wolfish fierceness. At +the sight of him the circle of merry people in the +middle of the room became petrified. The old +man looked darkly at the bold intruder, the young +men bent forward as if ready to spring at him, +the women stared with wide-open mouths.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" cried Stefan, advancing. +"Be off!"</p> + +<p>"Go out! Take yourself off when you aren't +invited!" Buza said, coming forward to support +his host. "Be careful not to go near him," he +added to Stefan, "or he will run you through. +You see how he lays his hand on his neck: he has +a knife there; I can see he has—I can see it by the +strap on his neck. What do you mean by bringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +a knife with you into the town, you damned +scoundrel? Don't you know that's forbidden? +I'll tell the Inspector, and to the end of your life +you'll never be allowed to come into the town +again. You'll be sent away to the tundra at +once. Give me the knife."</p> + +<p>"I will give it you directly, but I want it first +for that dog whom I have chased like a hare all +over the country," Kituwia calmly answered in +Chukchee.</p> + +<p>One of the young Chukchee sprang towards him, +but Józef seized him by the shoulder. Neither +he nor Stefan understood what the natives were +talking about, but they guessed that there was a +quarrel.</p> + +<p>"You would do better to drink this and join +us," Józef said in a conciliatory way, taking +Kituwia a glass. The latter pushed it aside.</p> + +<p>"That's bad!... He won't drink vodka," +Buza cried in Russian. "They will go for one +another presently!... Hey! be off! You won't +take vodka from the gentleman himself? Who +do you think you are? I will call the Cossacks +directly! Do you behave like this in a gentleman's +house? And it's not long since you were +entertained here! You tundra dog! I will have +you taken up at once. Ha, ha! don't try it on +me! You know who I am. Let me go by at once; +I will go and call the guard. But you keep him +talking here," he whispered to Stefan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>He turned towards the entrance, but retreated +immediately, for Kituwia started forward, and +the dangerous quiver of his lips showed his large +white teeth. In a moment the room was in an +uproar. Stefan, Buza, and Kituwia, surrounded +by struggling Chukchee, burst through the door, +which opened with a crash, and into the hall. +Stefan lay with his chest on Kituwia's chest; +the native struggled beneath him and tried unsuccessfully +to free his hand. Stefan was thus +able to seize him by the throat. Kituwia choked +and shook his head until he became exhausted. +Someone broke the strap on his neck with a jerk, +and a large broad-bladed knife flew jingling into +a corner. Buza, in the street, called for the +Cossacks, and a large crowd of people came on to +the scene. Stefan and Józef were now, in their +turn, obliged to defend the enfeebled Kituwia from +the Chukchee's rage. At last twenty-five Cossacks +appeared; the assailant was arrested and led off +to prison, the crowd following him with insults.</p> + +<p>"You'll have a nice time!... A nice look-out +for you!... You'll get thirty such good +lashes you won't want to sit down for a year to +come!... You'll remember what it is to come +here with a knife!... Perhaps you still want +to butcher us all?... Ah, you are short-handed +now! Times have changed!"</p> + +<p>The warrior looked at them fiercely and shrugged +his bound shoulders.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" Stefan and Józef +asked Buza.</p> + +<p>"Who knows anything about them?" he +answered with indifference. "Anyhow, they are +drunk."</p> + +<p>"No, no; that's not it," a fisherman remarked. +"It's an old quarrel that has come down to them +from their forefathers, and now they say it's +about Otowaka's daughter-in-law, Kituwia's own +sister. Young Aimurgin stole her. That's long +ago, and they now have children, but ... what +memories these fellows have! I expect the old +man paid a good sum, for he was willing to make +it up, but Kituwia never would. They say that +he had been living with his sister ... they +aren't baptized—though those who are often do +the same. So Kituwia wanted to take the +woman away; but Otowaka certainly could not +allow that, or he would have had no peace on +the tundra."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Buza became the hero of the hour, and received +frequent invitations to supper. After vodka, +but not before, he related in detail what had +happened:</p> + +<p>"They were all drinking together and enjoying +themselves. They were playing the District Administrator's +barrel organ and dancing—even +Otowaka himself was stamping his foot.... It +would certainly have ended badly if I hadn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +seized him, for I saw him put his hand on his +neck."</p> + +<p>"You'll catch it from him! He'll pay you out +for this! You know him."</p> + +<p>"How can he pay me out? I walk along the +street quite openly; he had better be careful +himself. He has been sent away from the town. +When I see him I'll collar him at once and put +him in prison. He had better look out. For +if he comes my way ... by God!... I'll +knock him down—I'll just knock him down! +Don't let him forget! Why should I be particular +about a brigand like that, when Otowaka himself +offers me his friendship?"</p> + +<p>Otowaka remained near the town for some time +longer, but was rarely seen. Józef and Stefan +visited him in his encampment, where he received +them in an exceptionally friendly manner. He +did not offer them his daughters, but wished to +give them a place of honour above even the +missionary, whom, together with Buza, he often +entertained in recollection of his son's adventure. +The friends would not agree to this, and thus won +Father Pantelay's favour for all time, drawing +from him golden words on the humility which +wins a man heaven.</p> + +<p>"I am urging him to seek the Divine grace +and be baptized," he said, looking towards the +old Chukchee....</p> + +<p>They were offered dessert—frozen reindeer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +marrow, chopped fine and arranged in small heaps—which, +being hard, was moistened with a plentiful +supply of vodka, as may be imagined. "It +would be safer for him to be baptized. He could +encamp on the western tundra."</p> + +<p>"Well, is he willing?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't refuse, but says that he will see."</p> + +<p>Before they left, the rich man presented each +guest with a foxskin, and begged him to be so +kind as to visit him on the tundra.</p> + +<p>"There I am in my right place; that's my own +country."</p> + +<p>Józef's eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>"What do you think—can we go, Father?" +he asked the missionary when they reached +home.</p> + +<p>Father Pantelay was in a very good temper.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we shall go.... If only he would +be baptized! So many souls would be saved, +for he rules the whole family."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is sure to be baptized. If we go there, +he will be baptized out of sheer hospitality to us. +Besides, we can take him presents. Here it's +different, and nothing will come of it."</p> + +<p>"That is true. In his native country a man +is more inclined to listen to the voice of God, +and a hard disposition is softened there more +easily. For virtue is immanent in everyone's +soul, but the way into the soul is often dark and +crooked and difficult to find. People often need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +a pretext to bring them on to the highroad to +good and salvation."</p> + +<p>Father Pantelay talked at great length on the +difficulties of such a task, and, as Józef was an +attentive listener and did not argue with him, +they soon became great friends. Meanwhile Stefan +gradually made preparations for the journey by +buying up the best dogs.</p> + +<p>At length they started on their long missionary +journey.</p> + +<p>It seemed like a waking dream to the two friends +when, surrounded by a crowd of inhabitants, +they shouted to the dogs and were borne away +at full speed along the track. Excitedly they +looked back at the little town for the last time. +The caravan consisted of three sledges, each with +fifteen dogs. Buza drove in front with the +provisions. Father Pantelay followed with his +luggage and presents—tea, tobacco, and other +valuables; Stefan and Józef came behind. Józef +had no idea how to manage the dogs, and was of +no use whatever on the journey. Father Pantelay +kept looking round at them and smiling in a +friendly way. He was glad that he had taken +them with him, for he was setting out for an +unknown country, and although God is everywhere, +and always has us under His protection, +yet it is pleasant to be surrounded by courageous +and friendly people with whom a refreshing and +instructive conversation is possible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have never been farther in this direction +than the edge of the tundra; the Spirit of God +alone hovers over the waste beyond. Buza has +been there; he has travelled to the world's end. +Hey, Buza! what is it like farther on? Shall +we be able to drink tea soon?"</p> + +<p>"Where we stop we shall drink tea," the +Cossack answered gravely.</p> + +<p>He was immensely impressed by his own +dignity as head of the expedition. He sat on +the cask of vodka as if it were a throne, watching +over it with a jealous eye.</p> + +<p>"When we have passed the edge of the forest +there will be no more houses or people to be seen. +After that vodka will be all-powerful, and will +have to answer every purpose; even our lives +depend on it. Those cursed Chukchee drink it +like fishes, and are wild to get it. When they've +had a little, they are ready to give up everything +for it; you've only to ask, and you can get anything +from them. Yet we shall have nothing +with us when we come back, for we shall have +eaten our provisions and given away the presents. +The sledges will be empty, and there won't be +any means of reloading them; and as the dogs +will have grown fat through resting and eating +reindeer paunch at Otowaka's, there'll be no +holding them, and we shall tear back. Ha, ha! +Hey!" He alternately reflected, shouted, or +sang a local song in a thin voice:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">"O Sidorek, O Sidorek,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">The light breath of warm breezes</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Blows over land and sea!</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Now go and fetch your sleigh;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Harness the dogs without delay.</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Out to the rocks let them swiftly take you,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Out to the rocks by the shore of the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">O Sidorek, O Sidorek!"</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>"Buza, Buza, curb your frivolity!" Father +Pantelay admonished him from a distance, as, in +the silence of that frozen waste, his voice reached +the other travellers through the clear, cold air.</p> + +<p>The March sun made the snowdrifts appear so +bright and smooth that by contrast the smallest +bush seemed like a wood, and the slightest unevenness +a hill. Soon, however, the summits of +distant mountains showed on the horizon, with +their white line sharply defined against the blue +sky. The travellers turned towards these, and +spent the night in a lonely fishing hut, the last +human habitation, on the very outskirts of the +dwindling forest. Henceforward they had only +snow, rocks, and sky round them; the only trees +to be seen were those washed down by the sea +or by river floods, and the only people those in +Otowaka's encampment.</p> + +<p>The strong, well-fed dogs went at a brisk pace. +After a day's journey the travellers unexpectedly +found themselves at the brink of a steep chasm. +Below it a snowy expanse showed as far as the +eye could reach.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The sea!" Buza cried.</p> + +<p>They had guessed in time, and stopped the +dogs.</p> + +<p>"Do you see those specks shining in the +distance, as if they were bits of sun? Those are +ice-packs. But farther away—under that cloud +on the horizon—is the open sea which never +freezes. They say there is land beyond it; but +no one has ever been there, for whoever goes +doesn't come back."</p> + +<p>For a while they stood entranced by the extent +of the view and by the sun, which threw delicate +blue shadows on the long, still, frozen waves. +At last Buza reminded them that they must +descend the cliffs and drive along the shore. +They passed dark chasms all day long, for the +sea had formed a bay here, and the whole shore +was equally steep and defended by rocks.</p> + +<p>"The waves beat up to the very top here; +they are all 'bulls,'" Buza said, using a Russian +expression for the cliffs.</p> + +<p>There is indeed something defiant and bull-like +in these last natural land defences, lifting their +rocky crests to the sky.</p> + +<p>The men spent the night under some tree trunks +which had been washed down there by a stream.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Józef said to Stefan, as they +lay down to sleep, "I have a superstitious fear +that something will stop us, and it grows with +every verst we pass."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<p>Stefan was far too tired to analyze subtle +emotions.</p> + +<p>The weather continued favourable. It was +only on the third day that a light, dry land breeze +from the south began to blow the powdery snow +from the clefts in the rocks on to their heads. +The cold did not trouble them much, however, +for the wall of cliffs protected them from the full +blast of the wind. All the same, the Cossack +shook his head and hurried on the dogs.</p> + +<p>"It's not far now, but we must make haste. +There are two promontories not far off, jutting +out like stone bulls; they are called Pawal and +Peweka. We shall have to cut through to the +sea between them. Wet or fine, it's always +windy there."</p> + +<p>They arrived at the foot of Pawal towards the +afternoon. The giant rock rose to a great height +and ran out a long way into the sea. On both +sides the land fell back from it abruptly, as if +in fear. On the farther side of the narrow strait +appeared a similar dark mass, though its size +was lessened by the distance.</p> + +<p>"You can see the encampment from here; it +is on Peweka, in a hollow between two crags. +Yet it's strange that I don't see any smoke. +Perhaps the wind has blown it away. How it +does blow! We shall have a bad time."</p> + +<p>"Shall we spend the night here?"</p> + +<p>"Spend the night—where there isn't a tree?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +Besides, who would spend the night here when +he can see tents? The natives would lose all +their respect for us. Let's go on! It may blow +worse to-morrow. We will just feed the dogs, +and then be off."</p> + +<p>They unpacked the provisions and began to +feed the dogs, taking some refreshment themselves. +The wind made wild music among the rocks. +When at times a more violent blast reached this +sheltered place, their hands instantly became +numb.</p> + +<p>"We shall be frozen in another moment!"</p> + +<p>"Please God, we shan't freeze, only we mustn't +stop on the way or let go of the sledges for a +moment; and we must tie everything to them, +for whatever falls off will be lost. Keep close +one behind the other, so as not to have to shout, +for it's no use; and be very careful not to scatter +snow over one another's sledge. Don't allow +the dogs to turn with the wind, but keep them +against it sideways; and remember, Father—and +you too, sir—to have them well in hand. God +preserve you from going near Peweka, for it's +open sea there, and the gale will carry you away +to your death. Don't stop by the way, for you +will get no rest by stopping. In the Name of +the Father and the Son!"</p> + +<p>They rushed out impetuously from their +sheltered nook. The gale caught them at once, +blowing about the dogs' hair and tilting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +sledges upwards. The men bent down to meet +it, and turned their faces away, but they felt it +cutting through them more and more. It beat +against them with increasing force, piercing them +through until there was no warmth left in their +bodies, nothing but a smarting sensation from +the snow which completely covered them. Their +mouths and their clothes were soon full of these +parching flakes; they felt them penetrating their +furs to their very skin and melting there, making +them shudder all over. Streams of this powdery +snow ran above the smooth, shining surface of the +ground, coiling with a hiss like an adder round +their feet and bodies, catching the dogs' drooping +heads, striking the runners of the sledges, and +rolling back in grey balls which increased as they +wound in and out of the caravan.</p> + +<p>The men crouched in contorted attitudes, +seeking to screen themselves from the biting cold. +Their chins almost rested on their knees, and +they only glanced ahead now and then to where +the rock, which was to be their refuge, was +darkening in the distance. The dogs also understood +where their safety lay; they used their +light shaggy paws to the best of their power, +and plunged resolutely into the raging wind +driving towards the sea. They constantly fell +down, for they slipped on the hard surface; their +eyes were bloodshot and starting from the sockets, +the breast collar choked them, the sledge had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +suddenly become a great weight on them. The +poor animals ran stooping low, and not even +daring to open their mouths to take breath, for +the cold wind hurt their throat and lungs. The +rattle of the sledges, the dogs' whining, the men's +curses, were like atoms in the furious, hollow +roar of the storm, and fell into space, as though +no one were calling, suffering, or struggling. +Stefan never took his eyes off the distance, +mentally measuring it all the while; he realized +despairingly that his dogs were growing tired +and would cease to follow the leader, and that +he must stand up to drive them on and turn +them back into the track. Józef clung helplessly +to the sledge, shivering as in fever. At last, +when they were nearly under the huge crag of +Peweka, the wind abated and merely blew in +gusts. Stefan looked up with a feeling of almost +religious awe at this rock which weathered gales +and sea. Buza was waiting for them there.</p> + +<p>"Well, we have done more than we could +expect! We may congratulate ourselves. Now +it will be just as if we were at home. I am only +surprised not to see anyone about. It's true +the weather's bad. But they ought to have seen +us. Perhaps they have been killing reindeer or +catching seals, and have eaten too much and are +asleep. We must go up the mountain. Hi, +Shaggy-hair! Noch! Noch!"</p> + +<p>The dogs, being hungry and in a bad temper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +began to bite one another. By the time they +had been quieted and the harness set to rights, +the sun had hidden behind the high hills and +the red glow of evening was spreading over rocks +and snow.</p> + +<p>They reached the pass by a narrow and difficult +way.</p> + +<p>Then Buza, who was going on ahead, suddenly +pulled up at a turn of the path, thunderstruck; +his dogs immediately lay down. The men rushed +up to him, but he neither answered their questions +nor took his eyes off something lying hidden +under a rock. Empty tents, with the flaps unfastened +in a hospitable manner, stood before +them in a strange silence. But the Cossack's +eyes were fixed on something else.</p> + +<p>A Chukchee, dressed in fur and with a spear +in his hand, lay face downwards across the pathway. +A little farther on a head showed from +under a snowdrift, the whites of the eyes shining +and the hair dishevelled by the gale; a hand like +a claw, clotted with blood, protruded from lower +down the drift. Streaks of blood mingled with +the red evening glow.</p> + +<p>"What does it mean? What is this?"</p> + +<p>"Hush! For the love of God, be quiet! +Let us escape!" the Cossack exclaimed, looking +in consternation at the dogs, which suddenly sat +up and began to howl. "Let us escape!" he +repeated, turning away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<p>But Stefan and the priest objected.</p> + +<p>"We must see if there is anyone left alive. +Perhaps we can help them."</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't go; I'm afraid. You can go +yourselves. I'll lead the dogs down to the +valley. God!... God! Thy will be done!"</p> + +<p>Stefan took a revolver from the holster and +went into the dark interior of a tent. He saw +a cold hearth, sprinkled with snow, and, hanging +above it, a cauldron with meat which had frozen. +Having lighted a match, he perceived a Chukchee +lying naked to the waist, with a terrible wound +in his chest. "Is there anyone here?" he asked +in a trembling voice, not daring to enter the inner +tent by the low hanging.</p> + +<p>Instead of an answer, he only heard the tent +skins rubbing together as the wind tore at them, +and the missionary's prayers. He therefore bent +down and crawled under the hanging; but he +instantly drew back. The whole inner tent seemed +to be full of contorted human bodies. He mastered +himself, however, took the tallow candle from the +priest, and crept in. Here he found the naked +bodies of murdered women and children. It must +all have happened quite recently, for the blood +was still red, the bodies had the look of marble, +and the cuts were still wide open; but they were +all stark and cold as stone. The frost had finished +what the knife had left undone.</p> + +<p>One of the young women had evidently tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +to escape. She had torn the outer tent covering +and endeavoured to jump out, but had been +caught at the entrance; the child, over whom she +was bending with an imploring gesture, must have +hampered her movements, and she had been run +through the back and nailed to the ground with her +baby. Stefan looked at her face and recognized +his recent guest, Impynena, the wife of Aimurgin.</p> + +<p>"This is frightful! Let us escape!" they all exclaimed +with one accord, filled with fear and horror.</p> + +<p>"Women and children too! There is not a +living soul left!"</p> + +<p>"Who is it? What can——?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't ask!" Buza said, shaking his head. +"I will tell you afterwards; let's go now!"</p> + +<p>"At once—in a wind like this and at night?"</p> + +<p>"What's to be done? At least it gives us a +chance."</p> + +<p>They hastily descended. Buza kept his eyes +fixed straight in front of him, and dropped them +when obliged to turn his head in the direction +from which he came. They halted under the +rock for a moment, in order to feed the dogs.</p> + +<p>"Be sure to keep the wind on your left—always +on your left—then wherever you go you will find +land. There—round the coast by Pawal—is the +easiest. We shall meet there, if only we can +hold out till morning. But don't leave the +sledge, or the storm will carry you and it away. +And don't look behind you—Heaven defend it!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +For 'They' don't like it, and will come after you," +he added significantly.</p> + +<p>Once more they plunged into the blizzard. +Once more the snow encircled their feet like +hissing adders, the smarting sensation began +again, and they drew their breath with difficulty. +To complete the misfortune, twilight set in with +the gale. The evening glow rested lower and +lower on the rocks, while dark clouds rose steadily +from the "open sea," where the country lies +whence "no one has ever come back." The tired +dogs went unwillingly. Stefan was continually +obliged to jump up and urge them on with his +heavy ice-spear. When the evening glow had +disappeared and the stars shone out, the gale, +which seemed to have been only waiting for the +signal, rose with such violence that, heedless of +everything, the poor animals turned and ran +before it. For a long way Stefan ploughed the +snow with the sharp ice-spear, leaning his full +weight against it, and hanging to the sledge, +which rushed along, rocking and bumping. At +last, when they lighted on softer ground, he +succeeded in stopping it. The dogs lay down at +once. Without letting the reins go out of his +hand, he stood up and looked round. Before him +rose a white, jagged ice-wall, and the light of the +stars showed the clouds from the "open sea" hanging +over it. The coast had disappeared somewhere, +and on all sides the country was white and flat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We have come a long way!... Józef, are +you cold? How you are shivering! Get up; can +you eat something?"</p> + +<p>"I am cold. Is it still far?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; the wind carried us away. +Can you get up?"</p> + +<p>Józef was silent and did not stir.</p> + +<p>Stefan shook the snow off him, turned the sledge +and put the dogs in readiness, rousing them by +his voice and by blows of the ice-spear. He +skilfully did all this crawling on his knees, for +when he stood up the wind blew him over. At +last the dogs got up and limped on. He remembered +that he ought to keep the wind on his +left, but the shore along which he had been driving +was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing +but the white plain, the fury of the gale, and the +stars in the sky. This wind seemed at times like +some powerful winnowing-fan, violently driving +them into the sea. When it struck the bed of +the sledge, it lifted it up like a sheet of paper, and +whatever it tore from it instantly disappeared. +First they lost their bag of biscuits, then the +cushions; finally Józef fell out and the storm +carried him off like a bag of down. Stefan was +horror-struck as he watched him helplessly waving +his arms and trying in vain to stand upright. +Shouting despairingly, he turned the dogs in +pursuit of his companion. They rushed madly +after the object rolling before them, and, fearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +that they would tear him to pieces if they caught +him up, Stefan cried:</p> + +<p>"Face the wind! Flat against the ground!"</p> + +<p>The wind carried his words, and Józef evidently +heard them, for he began to twist round until he +gained a foothold in the snow. Stefan instantly +struck the ice-spear into the ice with his full +strength, so that the sledge shook.</p> + +<p>"Crawl! I can't leave the dogs!" he called to +Józef.</p> + +<p>The latter answered something and tried to get +up, but the wind blew him over. In the end he +managed to turn and face it.</p> + +<p>"Crawl—crawl!" His companion's voice was +borne to him in a whisper in the blasts of the +snowstorm.</p> + +<p>"Leave me—never mind me—I can't——" he +answered, but almost before they had left his lips +the gale blew his words in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>Finally, by a great effort, he began to crawl. +All this took some time, and meanwhile a rumbling +sound deeper than the storm was added to the +roar of the wind. This came from the pack ice +in the direction of the clouds hanging over the +"open sea." Stefan heard it, but did not realize +what it was until the ice was struck with a crash +like thunder.</p> + +<p>"The sea!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Józef was now near the sledge.</p> + +<p>"Make haste!" he exclaimed, helping him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +into the sledge and strapping him to it. "Do +you hear? That's the sea! The storm is breaking +up the ice behind us."</p> + +<p>They plodded on once more. Stefan walked +nearly all the time, pushing the sledge, but tied +to it by the waist for safety. He forgot that he +was cold or that his limbs might become frostbitten. +The dogs exerted all their strength, +scenting the danger. Every minute the roar +came nearer; it sounded like a cannonade above +the noise of the wind. Driven by despair, they +fled ever faster. Yet at last the ice rocked under +them, and in imagination they saw the water +bubbling under their feet. It was close behind +them; but the ice on which they were driving +was still dry.</p> + +<p>"Throw out everything—clothes as well as +food! Throw them all out of the sledge!" Stefan +shouted, scarcely able to keep pace with the +terrified dogs. Bags, implements of all kinds, +and furs flew away into the darkness. The +lightened sledge sped forward rapidly, and Stefan +was only just in time to throw himself on to it +beside Józef; the dogs needed no rein or guiding.</p> + +<p>"You will die through my fault, Stefan; forgive +me," Józef said. "When I think of that, +I want to jump out of the sledge and go back into +the storm; but I expect you would not let me, +would you?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of talking nonsense! We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +shall die together as we have lived together. +A year sooner or later...! But we shall be +buried in graves—never fear, we shall get back all +right! Besides, the wind is going down. Can that +be the coast?" he exclaimed, as he looked up.</p> + +<p>Close above them rose a dark belt of rocks. +Quickly they climbed up on to this firm ground, +and while sheltering there, half dead with exhaustion, +they watched the white ice-floes below +packing with a loud roar. Stefan went to look +for wood, and found a tree trunk not far away, +from which he broke off a few splinters and +lighted a small fire. The wind soon changed this +into a bonfire, and for the rest of the night they +slept beside it.</p> + +<p>Buza found them there at daybreak.</p> + +<p>"Are you alive? Thank God! It's a good thing +that I didn't allow you to take anything away +with you from there, or we should never have +come off safe and sound. For this is just their +'bad weather.' It's the crime that made it bad. +We didn't even make a fire, for I am afraid of the +Chukchee. Didn't you light one? We saw a +fire in this direction."</p> + +<p>"We lighted one, for we haven't any of our +things left, and nothing to eat. We should have +been frozen."</p> + +<p>They related how they had lost everything, and +how the sea had chased them.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that was not the sea—it wasn't the sea!" +Buza sighed. "If only we get home safely...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sadly they returned along the cliffs. They were +obliged to make a wide circle, for the wind had +blown them far beyond Pawal. They were unable +to light fires, and drove on without resting as +long as the dogs' strength held out. Buza continually +cast anxious looks about him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the dogs growled fiercely, and ran so +fast towards the rocks that Buza was scarcely +able to hold them.</p> + +<p>"It only needed this!" he cried with pale lips. +"A rock-spirit!"</p> + +<p>A dark brown, unmoving face looked through a +crevice in the rock.</p> + +<p>"Make the sign of the Cross over him, Father!"</p> + +<p>With trembling hands the missionary made the +sign of the Cross; but the head did not disappear. +Stefan held in his dogs, which were straining +at their harness. He looked fixedly at the head.</p> + +<p>"Otowaka! is that you?" he cried at last, +when an old Chukchee, thin and pale, came out, +leading a little boy by the hand.</p> + +<p>"It is I ... Otowaka ... Kituwia...." he +said; but his lips were too parched to continue, +and he merely waved his hand towards the distant +Peweka. "The Great Spirit would not allow +my family to perish without an avenger. I will +go with you and be baptized, and bring him up."</p> + +<p>He laid his hand on the head of the boy, whose +face suddenly took a disdainful expression, reminding +Stefan strikingly of Kituwia's stony face.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE RETURNING WAVE</h2> + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">By</span> BOLESŁAW PRUS (ALEXSANDER GŁOWACKI)<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> I</div> + +<p>If Pastor Boehme's worthiness could have been +weighed on a pair of scales, the reverend gentleman +would have been obliged to travel on a goods +truck. But as worthiness cannot be classified +under any of the three mathematical dimensions, +but comes under the fourth, which does not belong +to the world of realities, he travelled in a little +one-horse britzka instead.</p> + +<p>To the fat, well-groomed pony, the flies, the +heavy collar, the sultry day, and the dusty road +were of much greater interest than the virtues +of his master, or even his whip. His master +took the whip with him only for fear of being +laughed at, for he never used it. In fact, he +would have been unable to use it; for when he +exhibited his worthy personality, with its short +whiskers, panama hat, and white and pink percoline +coat, on the roads, he had to hold the reins +firmly in one hand to prevent the old pony from +stumbling, and with the other he poured out +continual and benevolent, but ineffectual blessings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +on all passers-by. For they all took off their +caps to him; regardless of religious differences +they liked the "worthy German."</p> + +<p>On this particular July afternoon the reverend +gentleman was on his way to perform one of his +minor spiritual duties, namely that of first +grieving his neighbour and then comforting him. +In short, he was going to see his friend Gottlieb +Adler, to inform him that his son, Ferdinand, +had run into debt abroad, and subsequently to +exhort the father to forgive his prodigal son.</p> + +<p>Gottlieb Adler was the owner of a cotton-mill. +The road along which the pastor was driving +connected the mill with the railway-station; it +was a well-kept road, though it had not been +planted with trees. A little country town lay +on the left, and the factory on the right, at some +distance. The black and red roofs of the workmen's +cottages peeped from the sheltering plane-trees, +limes and poplars; behind them lay a +large four-storied building in the shape of a +horseshoe. This was the factory. A thicker +clump of trees close by indicated Adler's garden; +it surrounded an elegant villa with some farm +buildings attached. The sun was flooding everything +with golden light. The tall red-brick +chimney sent out thick, curling smoke, and had +the wind been in his direction the pastor would +have heard the busy roar of the engines and the +noise of the power-looms. But as it was, nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +disturbed the peaceful silence except the whistle of +a distant train and the rattling of his own cart. A +quail diving into the corn was singing its little song.</p> + +<p>The constant attention needed to prevent the +fat pony from stumbling at last wore out the +pastor; so trusting to the mercy of Him who +delivered Daniel from the lions' den and Jonah +from the whale's belly, he tied the reins to the +back of the seat, and folded his hands as in prayer. +Boehme loved to dream, and a gentle doze helped +to open memory's enchanted gates. He now +recalled (probably for the hundredth time that +year and at the same spot) another factory, +somewhere in the plains of Brandenburg, where +he and his friend Gottlieb Adler had spent their +childhood. They were sons of fairly well-to-do +master-weavers, were born in the same year, and +went to the same elementary school. A quarter +of a century passed after they left it before they +met again. Boehme had finished his theological +studies at the University of Tübingen, and Adler +had amassed some twenty thousand thalers.</p> + +<p>On Polish soil, far away from their Fatherland, +they met again. Boehme had been appointed +pastor of a Protestant parish, and Adler had set +up a little cotton-mill. Another quarter of a +century had now passed, during which they had +never been separated; they visited each other +several times every week. Adler's little mill +had grown into a huge factory which at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +moment employed some six hundred workmen, +and brought him in a clear profit of several +thousand roubles a year. Boehme had remained +poor except for the profit of several thousand +blessings yearly.</p> + +<p>The two friends also differed in other respects. +The pastor had a son who was now finishing his +studies at the technical college at Riga, and who +looked forward to supporting himself, his parents +and his sister for the rest of their lives. Adler's +only son had never even completed his school +course; he was now travelling abroad, and his +only concern was to get as much as he could for +himself out of his father's money. While the +pastor was fairly satisfied with his several thousand +blessings a year, and only wondered sometimes +whether his daughter, aged eighteen, would marry +well, Adler was ever impatient for his banking +account to reach the desired sum of a million +roubles as quickly as possible, and he often worried +himself with thoughts as to what would ultimately +become of his son.</p> + +<p>At the present moment Boehme was quite +content to look at the cornfields around him and +the sky above—scattered with white and grey +clouds—and to recall the memories of childhood; +a similar factory in the shape of a horseshoe, +the same kind of trees, and the same villa with +a pond in the garden.... What a pity there +was no village school here, no almshouses, no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +hospital! Adler had forgotten to build these, +although he had copied the shape of the Brandenburg +factory. "Had there not been a school +there," the pastor reflected, "Adler would never +have been a millionaire, nor I a pastor."</p> + +<p>The britzka was now approaching the factory, +and the noise became audible and roused the +musing pastor. A group of dirty children in +ragged dresses or only in shirts were playing in +the road. Vans with cotton goods became visible +behind the wall which surrounded the yard, and +Adler's villa appeared to the left in all its elegance. +The pastor could now distinctly see the summer-house +in the garden, near the pond, where he +and his friend usually sat drinking their hock +and talking of old times and current news.</p> + +<p>Here and there the washing was hanging out +of the windows of the workmen's cottages. The +inhabitants were nearly all at work at the mill; +only a few pale, hollow-cheeked women greeted +the pastor with the words:</p> + +<p>"May the Lord be praised!"</p> + +<p>"For ever and ever!" he answered, raising his +battered old panama hat.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the britzka had turned to the left, +for the pony, needing no further guiding, trotted +into the courtyard of the villa residence. A +groom came out at once, wiped his nose on his +sleeve, and helped the pastor out.</p> + +<p>"Is your master at home?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is at the factory; I'll run and tell him +you are here, sir."</p> + +<p>The pastor entered the portico. Having divested +himself of his coat, the reverend gentleman +now revealed himself in a long frock-coat which +made his short legs look still shorter, while the +long nose adorning his faded face seemed to +grow in proportion. The pastor folded his hands +and waited, reminding himself of the object of +his visit, and rehearsing a well-thought-out +address, which was to be divided into three +parts according to the laws of rhetoric. The +introductory part dealt with the unfathomable +ways of Providence which lead human beings +along thorny paths to eternal joy; the second +part dwelt on the story of young Ferdinand +Adler, who was unable to return to the paternal +home until his creditors had been satisfied.... +This was likely to produce an outburst of wrath +on the part of the father, and a long list of Ferdinand's +misdoings. But when the angry cotton-spinner +would be on the point of disinheriting +his son, there would follow the third part of the +pastor's address, which would include a reconciliation. +Boehme intended to allude to the +story of the Prodigal Son, to touch lightly on the +fact that his friend was himself responsible for +Ferdinand's bad upbringing, and that in expiation +of this sin he should offer the sum demanded +by the creditors as a sacrifice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<p>While the pastor was rehearsing his plan of +action, Adler appeared. He was huge and of +clumsy build, already slightly bent; with large +feet, a big round nose, and thick lips like those +of a negro. He had thin fair whiskers and no +moustache, and was dressed in a long grey frock-coat +of an unfashionable cut, and trousers to +match. When he took off his hat in order to +mop the perspiration off his forehead, he showed +tow-coloured, closely cropped hair, and projecting +light blue eyes without eyebrows.</p> + +<p>The millionaire walked with a heavy tread like +a trooper; his big arms stood out from his body +like the ribs of some antediluvian animal. His +broad chest heaved and fell like a pair of smith's +bellows as he greeted the pastor from a distance +with phlegmatic nods and loud guffaws; but he +did not smile. Indeed, it would have been difficult +to imagine what a smile would look like on +this fleshy, apathetic face which Nature had +fashioned so roughly. Yet it was not repulsive, +merely rather strange; it did not inspire fear, +only the feeling that opposition to those clumsy +hands would be useless. Obviously it was impossible +to get at the heart of this battering-ram +in human form, but, if injured, the whole fabric +would collapse like a building the foundations of +which had crumbled away.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Martin?" Adler called from +the lowest step of the staircase. Shaking the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +pastor's hand firmly, he went on: "Ah, of course, +you were in Warsaw yesterday.... Have you +heard anything of my boy? The rascal writes +so rarely.... Probably the only person who +knows his whereabouts is the banker."</p> + +<p>As they stood together in the portico, the +little pastor looked, beside his friend, like "a +locust beside a camel."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell me," Adler continued, sitting down +on a little cast-iron seat; its metallic sound as +it creaked under his weight harmonized strangely +with the thundering roar of the factory. "Has +Ferdinand not written to the bank?"</p> + +<p>Boehme found himself plunged unwillingly into +the middle of his business. Sitting down on the +seat facing Adler, he remembered with marvellous +presence of mind the opening part of his speech—namely +the unfathomable ways of Providence.</p> + +<p>The pastor had one drawback; this was that +he could not speak fluently without his glasses, +which he was in the habit of mislaying. He +felt that he ought now to begin the introduction; +but how was he to begin without his glasses? +He cleared his throat and fidgeted, turned out +his pockets and found nothing. Where could +he have left his spectacles? He quite forgot his +opening sentences.</p> + +<p>Adler, who knew his friend by heart, began to +feel uneasy.</p> + +<p>"Why are you fidgeting like that?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I am sorry—it is very annoying—I have left +my spectacles behind."</p> + +<p>"What do you want your spectacles for? +You are not going to preach a sermon, are you?"</p> + +<p>"No, but you see——"</p> + +<p>"I am asking about Ferdinand—any news of +him?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you presently," Boehme said, +grimacing. Again he put his hand into his +breast pocket, and took out a letter and a large +purse, but no spectacles.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if I left them in the britzka," he +said, turning towards the steps.</p> + +<p>Adler, who knew that the pastor carried only +important documents in his breast pocket, +snatched the letter from his hand.</p> + +<p>"My dear Gottlieb," Boehme said, confused; +"give me back the letter; I will read it to you +myself, but I must first find my glasses."</p> + +<p>He ran out into the courtyard, but returned in +dismay a few minutes later, not having found them.</p> + +<p>Adler was reading the letter with great interest; +the veins stood out on his forehead, and his eyes +seemed to project more than ever.</p> + +<p>When he had finished he spat on the floor.</p> + +<p>"What a scoundrel, this Ferdinand!..." he +burst out. "In two years' time he is fifty-eight +thousand and thirty-one roubles in debt, though +I gave him a yearly allowance of ten thousand +roubles."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, I know!" suddenly exclaimed the pastor, +and ran off. "I couldn't have left them anywhere +but in the pocket of my overcoat."</p> + +<p>He returned triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"You are always mislaying your spectacles and +finding them again," grumbled Adler, leaning his +head on his hand. He looked thoughtful and sad.</p> + +<p>"Fifty-eight and twenty—that's seventy-eight +thousand and thirty-one roubles in two years. +How shall I be able to make that up? By +Heaven, I don't know."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the pastor had put on his spectacles +and regained his usual presence of mind. Though +the introduction and the second part of his speech +had been lost, there was still the third part left. +Boehme was always resourceful in a difficulty, so +he cleared his throat, and began:</p> + +<p>"Although, dear Gottlieb, your feelings as a +father may be deeply wounded, and you may +sometimes justly complain——"</p> + +<p>Adler roused himself from his reverie, and +replied calmly:</p> + +<p>"It's more than mere complaining; I have to +pay. Johann!" he suddenly shouted, with a +voice that shook the roof of the portico.</p> + +<p>The footman appeared.</p> + +<p>"A glass of water!"</p> + +<p>He emptied two glasses, and then said without +a shade of excitement: "I must telegraph to +Rothschilds' to-night. I will send that rascal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +a wire too; he must come back; he has had +enough travelling."</p> + +<p>Boehme realized that not only the chance of +the third part of his speech was gone, but that +Adler was treating his son far too indulgently. +To incur debts of nearly sixty thousand roubles +was not only a financial loss, but an abuse of +parental confidence, and therefore no light offence. +Who knows? If it had not been for this money, +Adler might have been persuaded to found a +school for the children, without which they were +growing up idle and wild. Instead of standing up +for the frivolous son, the pastor would now +become his censor, which was all the easier for +him as he had known him from his childhood. +Moreover, he had now recovered his spectacles +and his balance of mind.</p> + +<p>Adler was leaning back with his hands clasped +behind his head, looking at the ceiling. Boehme +put his hand on his knee and began:</p> + +<p>"My dear Gottlieb, your Christian submission +in misfortune sets an excellent example; but as +we are very imperfect in the sight of God, it is +our duty not only to be resigned, but to be active. +Our Lord not only sacrificed Himself, but taught +and improved men. Ferdinand is your son in +the flesh, and mine in the spirit. In spite of his +gifts and good qualities, he does not carry out +the injunctions to work which were laid upon +man when he was driven from Paradise."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Johann!" shouted Adler.</p> + +<p>The footman instantly appeared.</p> + +<p>"The engine is going too fast; tell them to +slacken down! It's always like that when I am +out of the way."</p> + +<p>The footman disappeared, and the pastor continued, +undismayed:</p> + +<p>"Your son does not work, but wastes the powers +of body and mind given him by the Creator. I +have told you my principles on this point many +times, and in educating my son Józef I have +endeavoured to be faithful to them."</p> + +<p>Adler shook his head gloomily.</p> + +<p>"What is Józef going to do when he leaves +the technical college?" he asked unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>"Go into an engineering business or factory, +and perhaps in time become a director."</p> + +<p>"And when he is a director?"</p> + +<p>"He will go on working."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>Boehme was taken aback.</p> + +<p>"In order to be useful to himself and others," +he replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, if Ferdinand comes back he can be a +director here with me; and he is already useful to +others by spending seventy-eight thousand and +thirty-one roubles—and certainly to himself!"</p> + +<p>"But he does not work."</p> + +<p>"That is true, but I work for him and for +myself. I have done the work of five all my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +life; why shouldn't he enjoy himself? He won't +do it later on; I know that by my own experience. +Work is a curse; I have borne it all these years, +and I have borne it well, as my fortune proves. +If Ferdinand was meant to work hard, as I have +done, why should God have given him the money? +What will the boy get out of it if he spends his +life in adding ten millions to the one I have made, +and his son in adding another ten? God has +created rich and poor; the rich enjoy life. I +myself shall probably never enjoy it; I am too +old, and I don't know how to. But why shouldn't +my boy enjoy it?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Gottlieb," said the pastor, "a good +Christian——"</p> + +<p>"Johann," interrupted the cotton-spinner, addressing +the returning footman and observing +that the engine went more slowly, "take a bottle +of hock and some cakes into the summer-house. +Martin——" He tapped Boehme's shoulder with +his heavy hand and guffawed.</p> + +<p>On their way into the garden a wretched-looking +woman stopped them and threw herself +at their feet.</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, give me three roubles for the +funeral," she sobbed.</p> + +<p>Adler calmly drew away.</p> + +<p>"Go to the publican," he said; "that's where +your fool of a husband wastes his money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Business matters are attended to in the office, +not here," interrupted Adler. "Go there."</p> + +<p>"I have been there, sir, but they turned me +out."</p> + +<p>Again she stretched out her arms to embrace +his feet.</p> + +<p>"Go away!" shouted the manufacturer. "You +won't come to work, but you know where to beg +for your christenings and funerals."</p> + +<p>"How could I come to work, sir, just after my +confinement?"</p> + +<p>"Well then, don't have children if you have +no money for their funerals."</p> + +<p>With this he pushed the pastor, who was +indignant at this scene, through the garden gate. +When he had closed it, Boehme stood still.</p> + +<p>"I would rather not drink, Gottlieb," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Adler, wondering.</p> + +<p>"The tears of the poor spoil the taste of the +wine."</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid; the glasses are clean +and the bottles well corked," Adler guffawed.</p> + +<p>The pastor flushed, turned away, and hurried +into the courtyard without a word.</p> + +<p>"Come back, you silly woman!" Adler shouted +to the miserable creature, who was crying near the +gate. "Here is a rouble, and be off with you!"</p> + +<p>He threw her a paper rouble.</p> + +<p>"Martin! Boehme!... Come back, the wine +is in the summer-house."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the pastor had got into his cart without +his overcoat, and was driving out of the gateway.</p> + +<p>"He is a madman," Adler observed to himself. +He was not angry with the pastor, who frequently +treated him to such scenes.</p> + +<p>"These learned people always have a screw +loose in their heads," he reflected, looking after +the dust raised by the pastor's britzka. "If I +were a learned man and had Boehme's income, +Ferdinand would now be toiling in a technical +college. It is a good thing he is not learned, +either."</p> + +<p>He turned round, glanced at the stable, where +a groom was making a pretence of sweeping, +sniffed in the smoke from the factory, looked at +the loaded vans, and went into the office.</p> + +<p>He ordered a clerk to credit Ferdinand's account +with sixty thousand roubles, and wired him +instructions to pay his debts and to come home +at once.</p> + +<p>When Adler left the office, the old German +book-keeper, who wore a shade over his eyes and +had sat on the same leather stool for many years, +looked round suspiciously and whispered to the +clerk:</p> + +<p>"So we are going to 'economize' again. The +young man has spent sixty thousand roubles, +and we are going to pay for it."</p> + +<p>In a quarter of an hour's time the rumour had +reached the engine-house, and in an hour had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +spread all over the factory, that Adler was going +to cut down the wages because his son had +squandered a hundred thousand roubles. By the +evening Adler knew all that was being said. +Some threatened to break his bones, others that +they would kill him or set fire to the factory. +Some said they would leave, but these were +shouted down; for where was one to go? The +women wept and the men cursed Adler, invoking +God's punishment on him. The cotton-spinner +was satisfied. As long as the workpeople cursed +they would do nothing worse. He could safely +reduce their wages. Those who threatened were +chiefly his most faithful men.</p> + +<p>During the night a plan of "economy" was +prepared. The more a man earned, the larger +was the percentage knocked off his wages. There +was a general outburst of indignation when these +plans became known next day. For some years +a bone-setter had been appointed to the factory +for urgent cases, and during an outbreak of +cholera a doctor had been added. The latter +had now nothing to do according to Adler's +ideas, and was given notice, and the bone-setter's +salary was reduced by half. Both left the factory +at once. Some score of workmen followed their +example; others did less work than usual, but +talked the more. At midday and again in the +evening a deputation of workmen waited upon +Adler to entreat him not to wrong them in this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +way. They wept, cursed and threatened, but +Adler remained unmoved.</p> + +<p>As he had lost sixty thousand roubles through +his son, economy would have to bring him in at +least fifteen to twenty thousand a year. Nothing +could alter this resolution. Besides, why should +he alter it? He was not risking anything.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, the workmen calmed +down. Some went to work of their own accord, +others were sent away and their places taken by +new hands, to whom the wages seemed good. +There was a great deal of poverty in the district, +and people were asking for employment. The +place of the bone-setter was taken "for the +present" by an old workman who, in Adler's +opinion, was sufficiently acquainted with surgery +to attend to slight injuries. As to graver cases—and +these were rare—it was agreed to send for +the doctor from the town, and the sick workmen +and their wives and children were to go there at +their own expense. So after this great upheaval +matters were all right again at the factory.</p> + +<p>Information carefully collected showed Adler +that, in spite of all the wrongs he had done his +workmen, nothing was going to happen to him—that +there was in fact no power on earth which +could do him harm.</p> + +<p>The pastor, however, to whom Adler went +without waiting to make up their difference, +shook his head, and shifting his spectacles, said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wrong begets wrong, my dear Gottlieb. +You have neglected Ferdinand's education, and +you did wrong. He has squandered your money, +and you have reduced the workmen's wages in +consequence, and done a greater wrong. What +will be the end of it all?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Adler.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be nothing," said Boehme, solemnly +raising his hands. "The Almighty has so ordered +things that every beginning has an end. Good +beginning, good end; bad beginning, bad end."</p> + +<p>"Not for me," said the cotton-spinner. "My +capital is safely invested, the hands won't burn +the mill, and if they do it is insured. If they +leave, I shall find others. Besides, where could +they go? Or do you think they will kill me? +Martin ... do you really think they will?" the +giant guffawed, clapping his huge hands together.</p> + +<p>"Do not tempt God," the pastor said angrily, +and changed the conversation.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> II</div> + +<p>The history of Adler was as strange as he himself. +After leaving the elementary school he had learnt +weaving, and by the time he was twenty he was +earning quite good wages. He was a strong +fellow with a high complexion, to all appearances +clumsy, but in reality shrewd and able to work +like a horse. His seniors were satisfied with him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +though they often found fault with him for being +too dissipated. Adler spent every Sunday enjoying +himself with friends and with women; +they would go on merry-go-rounds and see-saws, +gorge themselves and drink together; he was +always the leader of the party. He enjoyed +himself so frantically that his companions were +sometimes quite taken aback. But on week-days +he worked quite as frantically. His powerful +organism seemed to possess no soul; only nerves +and muscles were at play. He did not like +reading or art of any kind; he could not even +sing.</p> + +<p>No other thought possessed him than that +of using his accumulated animal strength to the +full without bounds or limits, except envy for +the rich. He heard that there were large cities +in the world, with beautiful women ready to be +loved, with whom one drank champagne in +gorgeously decorated rooms; that rich people +rode fast horses to death, climbed mountains on +which one might break one's neck or drop from +exhaustion, and sailed their own yachts—and he +longed to do all these things. He dreamt of +scouring the world from pole to pole, of rushing +on to battlefields thirsting for the enemy's blood; +besides these things he meant to drink the choicest +wines, eat the richest food, and travel with +a whole harem. But how was all this going to +happen if he spent all his earnings, and even ran<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +into debt? Then suddenly an unusual thing +happened.</p> + +<p>A fire broke out on the second floor of one of +the factory buildings. All the workpeople had +got away safely except two women and a boy on +the fourth floor. These were only noticed after +a time, when the flames were bursting forth from +all parts of the building. Nobody thought of +going to the rescue; this induced the mill-owner +to shout to the crowd: "Three hundred thalers +to anyone who rescues them!"</p> + +<p>The noise and excitement increased. The +people encouraged one another to the venture, +but did nothing, while the victims held out their +arms in despair, entreating for help.</p> + +<p>Then Adler stepped forward. He asked for a +rope and a ladder with hooks, tied the rope round +his waist, and approached the burning building. +The crowd drew back in astonishment; they +wondered how he meant to reach the fourth floor. +He hooked the ladder to the broad cornices of +each floor above him and ran up it like a cat. +The flames singed his hair and clothes, thick +smoke enveloped him like a blanket. But he +climbed higher and higher, hanging like a spider +over the flames and the chasm below. When he +reached the fourth floor the crowd shouted and +applauded. Adler fixed the ladder to the parapet +on the roof, and, with surprising skill for a youth +so clumsy and heavy, carried the people, who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +were half dead with fright, one after the other on +to the roof. As one wall of the building had no +windows, Adler let the rescued people down on +that side with the help of the rope, and finally +slid down himself. When he reached the ground, +burnt and with bleeding hands, the crowd lifted +him upon their shoulders.</p> + +<p>As a reward for this almost unparalleled bravery, +Adler received the gold medal from the Government, +and a rise in wages as well as the three +hundred thalers from the mill-owner.</p> + +<p>This became a turning-point in his life. Finding +himself in possession of such a large sum, a desire +for money grew in him. He did not value it +because he had risked his life for it, or because it +reminded him that he had saved the life of others. +To him it simply represented a sum of three +hundred thalers. What a time he might have if +he spent three hundred thalers on enjoying himself! +But if he first increased it to a thousand +he might have a still better time. Adler gave +up his old dissipated habits and became niggardly +and a usurer. He started lending his friends +money for short terms, but at high interest; and +as he worked hard besides, and was getting on +fast, after a few years he possessed, not three +hundred, but three thousand thalers. All this +was done with the idea that when he had amassed +a considerable sum he would enjoy himself like +a rich man. But—as the sum increased, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +decided on ever new limits, towards which he +advanced with the same determination as before.</p> + +<p>While striving towards this "ideal" of the +greatest possible self-indulgence, he lost his sensual +instincts, as a matter of fact. He spent his +gigantic strength in hard work, suppressed his +dreams, and fixed his thoughts on one thing only, +and that was money. In the beginning the money +had represented the means to another end, but +by degrees even this disappeared, and his whole +soul was filled with the desire for work and money.</p> + +<p>When he was forty years old he possessed fifty +thousand thalers gained by real hard work, +determination, uncommon shrewdness, meanness +and usury. He then went to Poland, where, he +had heard, industry could be turned to the greatest +profit, and started a small cotton-mill. He +married a rich heiress, who died after a year in +giving birth to a son, Ferdinand; and having her +money to work with, Adler set out to become a +millionaire. His new home proved a veritable +land of promise, for he was well trained in his +exhausting business and in the race for money, +and found himself among people who let themselves +be exploited: some because they had no +money; others because they had come by it too +easily and had too much, or they were not shrewd +enough, or again because they tried to be cleverer +than they were. Adler despised these people who +possessed neither the most elementary economic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +qualities nor the strength to carry through their +aims. Having surveyed his ground thoroughly, +he knew how to make capital out of it. So his +fortune grew, and people thought that the successful +manufacturer was backed up by money +from Germany.</p> + +<p>With the birth of Ferdinand a new feeling awoke +in Adler's stony heart—a feeling of unbounded +and eternal love. He carried the motherless baby +about in his arms, and even used to take him to +the mill with him, where the frightened child got +blue in the face with screaming. When he grew +bigger, the father satisfied all his wishes, stuffed +him with sweets, surrounded him with servants, +and gave him sovereigns to play with.</p> + +<p>The more the child developed, the more he +loved him. Ferdinand's games reminded him of +his own childhood, of his own instincts and +dreams. He pictured to himself that it would +be his son who would enjoy life and reap the real +benefit of the money. Ferdinand would reach +the goal of his own desires, not yet extinct, for +distant travels, dangerous expeditions and expensive +tastes.</p> + +<p>"Only let him be grown up," the father thought, +"then I will sell the mill and we will go out into +the world together; he will enjoy himself, and I +shall look on and see that he comes to no harm."</p> + +<p>As a human being cannot give to others more +than he himself possesses, Adler gave to his son<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +an iron constitution, selfish propensities, money, +and an unbounded desire for enjoyment. He +developed no higher instincts in him. Neither +father nor son had any understanding for the +true values of life; they cared nothing for beauty +in Nature or in Art, and they both despised their +fellow-men.</p> + +<p>In the social life of the community, where +every unit is consciously or unconsciously tied +by a thousand bonds of sympathy and fellow-feeling, +these two stood alone. The father loved +money above all things, and his son above money; +the son liked his father, but loved only himself +and the things which satisfied his instincts.</p> + +<p>The boy had his tutors, and went to school for +a few years. He learnt several languages, was +a fair talker and a good dancer, and dressed in +good taste. As he got on easily with people +when they put no obstacles in his way, was witty +and spent money lavishly, he was popular; +though Boehme, who looked at things from a +different point of view, maintained that the boy +knew very little and was on the wrong track. +Ferdinand was a Don Juan even in his seventeenth +year; in his eighteenth he was expelled from +school. A year later he had incurred debts at +cards, and at twenty he went abroad. In spite +of large sums allowed him by his father, he ran +into debt to the tune of sixty thousand roubles. +He had thus indirectly brought about the need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +for "economy" at the factory, and caused himself +and his father to be cursed by the workpeople.</p> + +<p>During his few years' absence from home, +Ferdinand had climbed Alpine glaciers and +Vesuvius, had been up in a balloon, and allowed +himself to be bored for a few weeks in London, +where houses are built of red brick and there are +no amusements on Sundays. But the longest +and gayest time he had spent in Paris.</p> + +<p>He did not often write to his father; only when +a stronger impression than usual touched his iron +nerves he reported it to him in detail. These +letters therefore were great events in Adler's +life. The old mill-owner read them again and +again, and enjoyed every word of them; they +revived in him the ardent dreams of long ago. +To go up in a balloon or look down into the crater +of a volcano; to join in a cancan or give a woman +champagne baths; to lose or win hundreds of +roubles at one throw—had these not been the +ideals of his life? Did not Ferdinand even surpass +them? Under the influence of these letters, +sketched in the excitement of first impressions, +the habit of dreaming came back to this sternly +realistic mind. At times he distinctly visualized +what he read, investing it with an almost poetic +fancy, but the vision fled before the rhythmic +throb of the engines and power-looms. Adler +had only one longing, one hope and faith—to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +amass a million, sell his mill, and go away with his +son to see the world.</p> + +<p>"He will enjoy himself, and I shall look on all +day long."</p> + +<p>Pastor Boehme was not at all in favour of this +programme, worthy of the corrupt Elders of +Sodom and Gomorrah, or the Roman Empire.</p> + +<p>"When you have come to the end of the money +and the pleasure, what will you do then?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but money like ours does not come to an +end," the mill-owner would reply.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> III</div> + +<p>The day for Ferdinand's return had arrived. +Adler got up at five o'clock in the morning +according to his custom, drank his coffee at eight +from his large china mug, inscribed with the +motto: "Mit Gott für König und Vaterland," +and visited the factory. At eleven he sent the +carriage and a luggage cart to the station, and +then sat down in the portico and waited, his face +as apathetic and dull as usual. From time to +time he looked at his watch. The sun was hot; +the scent of mignonette and acacia from the +courtyard mingled with the pungent smell of +smoke from the factory. The sky was clear and +the air quite still. Adler wiped the perspiration +from his face, and kept changing his position on +the iron seat. The old mill-owner did not eat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +his lunch at twelve, and did not drink his beer +out of the big pot with the pewter lid, as he had +done every day for forty years.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock the carriage with Ferdinand +arrived, followed by the empty cart. Ferdinand +was a tall, rather thin, but strongly built young +man with fair hair and blue eyes. He wore a +Scotch cap with ribbons and a light circular cape. +As soon as he saw him, the mill-owner drew up +his huge figure to its full height, and holding out +his arms and giving one of his big laughs, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Well, Ferdinand, how are you?"</p> + +<p>The son jumped out of the carriage, embraced +his father and kissed him on both cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Has it been raining here, that you have your +trousers turned up?" he said.</p> + +<p>The father glanced at his trousers.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! How the rascal notices everything!" +he roared. "Johann! Lunch!"</p> + +<p>He took his son's cape and travelling bag, and +gave him his arm as if he were a lady. Looking +back into the courtyard, he asked: "Why, the +cart is empty! Why haven't you brought your +luggage from the station?"</p> + +<p>"My luggage? Why, father, do you think I +am married and drag about boxes and portmanteaux +with me? My things are in the dressing-bag; +besides the fittings, there are a couple +of shirts and a few pairs of gloves—that's all."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> + +<p>He talked vivaciously and in a loud voice, and +laughed much. Pressing his father's hand several +times, he continued: "Well, and how are you, +father? What's the news? I am told you are +doing very well with your piqués and dimities.... +Let us sit down."</p> + +<p>They clinked their glasses and finished their +lunch quickly. When they had retired to the +study, Ferdinand said, lighting a cigar:</p> + +<p>"I must introduce the French way of living +here, and especially the French way of cooking."</p> + +<p>The father made a grimace.</p> + +<p>"Why? Isn't the German cuisine good +enough?"</p> + +<p>"The Germans are pigs!"</p> + +<p>"What?" said the old man.</p> + +<p>"I say the Germans are pigs," laughed the +son. "They neither know how to eat nor how +to enjoy themselves."</p> + +<p>"Well," interrupted the father, "and what +are you?"</p> + +<p>"I? I am a human being—in other words, a +citizen of the world."</p> + +<p>That his son should call himself cosmopolitan +mattered little to Adler, but he was much hurt +by the wholesale relegation of Germans to the +class of unclean animals.</p> + +<p>"I thought, my dear Ferdinand, that you +might have learnt some sense for the sixty thousand +roubles you have spent."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>The son flung away his cigar and fell on his +father's neck.</p> + +<p>"What an excellent father you are!" he exclaimed, +kissing him. "What a fine example of +a real, stereotyped, conservative Baron! Well, +don't frown—cheer up! Come, don't look so +glum!"</p> + +<p>He seized him by his hands and drew him into +the middle of the room. Tapping his chest, he +said:</p> + +<p>"What a chest! ... what calves! If I had +a young wife, I should know who to be jealous of. +And you really mean to say all the same that +you agree with these dead and stale theories? +'The devil take the Germans and their cookery!' +That is a motto worthy of the age and of strong +men."</p> + +<p>"You must be crazy," interrupted the father, +somewhat pacified. "But what are you if you +have ceased to be a German?"</p> + +<p>"I?" replied Ferdinand with mock seriousness. +"Among Germans I am a Polish nobleman, +Adler von Adlersdorf; among Frenchmen I am a +republican and a democrat."</p> + +<p>Such was Ferdinand's first meeting with his +father, and such were the spiritual gains of his +stay abroad, paid for with sixty thousand roubles.</p> + +<p>On the same day father and son drove over to +see Pastor Boehme. The mill-owner introduced +Ferdinand to him as a converted sinner who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +spent much money and gained much experience +for it. The pastor tenderly embraced his godson +and held up to him as an example his son, Józef, +who was working hard, and would continue to +work to the end of his life. Ferdinand replied +that work was really the only thing that gave +human beings the right to exist. He added that +he himself had been a little inconsiderate in spending +his life among the people of a nation which +boasted of its levity and idleness. Finally he +asserted that one Englishman worked as much +as two Frenchmen or three Germans, and that +he had for this reason lately acquired a great +respect for the English. Adler was astonished at +his son's earnestness and the sincerity of his +conviction, and Boehme remarked that young +wine must ferment and that his experienced eye +could detect a change for the better in Ferdinand, +which was worth more than the expenditure of +sixty thousand roubles. After these solemn words +the old people, with the addition of the Frau +Pastor, sat down to a bottle of hock, and talked +of their children.</p> + +<p>"You know, dear Gottlieb," said the pastor, +"I am beginning to admire Ferdinand. From +being a young windbag of a fellow he has now +become a <i>verus vir</i>. He has experience and +judgment, and knows himself too."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," confirmed the Frau Pastor, "he +reminds me altogether of our Józio. Do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +remember, father, when Józio was here last +vacation he said the same thing about the English? +Dear boy!"</p> + +<p>And the kind, thin lady sighed and pulled at the +bodice of her black dress, which seemed to have +been made in expectation of greater corpulence.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand meanwhile was walking in the +garden with Annette, the pretty daughter of the +pastor. They had known each other from childhood, +and the young girl had greeted the companion, +whom she had not seen for so long, +warmly and even enthusiastically. They walked +about together for nearly an hour; but as the +day was very hot, Annette had suddenly complained +of a headache and gone up to her room, +and Ferdinand returned to the old people. He +was sulky and did not talk much. This did not +astonish the pastor and his wife. A young man +would naturally prefer the society of a young +girl. Soon after Adler and his son returned home, +and Ferdinand informed his father that he would +have to go to Warsaw the next day.</p> + +<p>"What for?" asked his father. "Have you +got tired of home in eight hours?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least; only, you see, I need shirts +and some suits, and also a carriage in which I +can pay visits in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>These reasons did not seem conclusive to the +elder man. He said that the housekeeper could +go to Warsaw to order the clothes; and if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +bought a carriage, he would like to buy it himself +from a carriage-builder of his acquaintance. It +was difficult to agree about the clothes, but it +was finally settled that a suit should be sent to +the tailor as a pattern. Ferdinand did not look +at all pleased at this.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you keep a riding horse?"</p> + +<p>"No; what good would it be to me?" replied +the mill-owner.</p> + +<p>"Well, but I must have one, and I hope you +will at least not refuse me this?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not."</p> + +<p>"I should like to go into the town to-morrow +to see if one of the nobility has a good horse for +sale. You won't object to that?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least."</p> + +<p>By ten o'clock in the morning Ferdinand had +left home to go into the town, and a few minutes +later Boehme's cart and horse drew up in the +courtyard. The pastor seemed unusually excited. +When he hurried into the room, there were two +flushed spots between his whiskers and his long +nose. As soon as he saw Adler, he called out:</p> + +<p>"Is Ferdinand at home?"</p> + +<p>Adler was astonished, and noticed that his +friend's voice was trembling.</p> + +<p>"Why? What do you want Ferdinand for?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"The scoundrel! He's a bad lot! Do you +know what he said to Annette yesterday?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>Adler's face showed that he neither knew nor +suspected anything.</p> + +<p>"He actually," continued the pastor, getting +still more excited, "he asked her...." He +broke off, and exclaimed indignantly: "The +insolence! The shame of it!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" asked Adler, +growing anxious. "What did he say to her?"</p> + +<p>"He asked her to leave the window of her +room open for him at night."</p> + +<p>The poor pastor, from the excess of his feelings, +flung his panama hat on the floor.</p> + +<p>In matters which had nothing to do with the +manufacture and sale of cotton goods Adler took +a long time to think. The chord that would +have been touched by the wrong done to the girl +was missing in his heart; but he had a feeling of +friendship for the pastor, and starting from this +basis and reasoning phlegmatically and logically, +he came to the conclusion that, if the young girl +had listened to the proposal, Ferdinand would +have to marry her. In any case he would have +to marry her; the old man saw no other way out +of it.</p> + +<p>This then was the end of it! A few hours +after his arrival, and a few minutes after his +excellent speech about his improvement, Ferdinand +had put himself into such a position that +he, the son of a millionaire, would have to marry +a dowerless girl—the pastor's daughter! Instead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +of enjoying life at his side, and seeing him take +the best of what money, youth and unrestrained +freedom could give, he would now have to marry +the boy to this girl.</p> + +<p>It was only after the nervous old Boehme had +begun to cry in his anger that Adler's wrath +burst out in words.</p> + +<p>"He is a scoundrel, that fellow!" he shouted. +"A week ago I paid sixty thousand roubles for +him, and now he extorts more money from me +and behaves like this on the top of it all!"</p> + +<p>He lifted his hands and shook them like Moses +when he threw down the stone tablets on the +heads of the worshippers of the golden calf.</p> + +<p>"I will thrash him!" roared the mill-owner.</p> + +<p>Seeing his excitement, and guessing that a +stick in Adler's hand might have deplorable +results, the pastor pacified him.</p> + +<p>"My dear Gottlieb, that is quite unnecessary. +Leave it to me, and I will tell Ferdinand either +not to come to our house, or to behave in a decent +and Christian way."</p> + +<p>"Johann!" shouted the manufacturer, and +when the footman appeared he continued without +softening his voice: "Send to the town at +once for Ferdinand. I will flog the scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>The footman looked amazed and frightened, +but the pastor gave him a knowing look, and the +sagacious Johann went out.</p> + +<p>"Dear Gottlieb," said Boehme, "Ferdinand is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +too old to be flogged with a stick, or even to be +reprimanded too violently. Excessive severity +will not only fail to improve him, but may cause +him to lay hands on his own life; he is an ambitious +boy."</p> + +<p>This remark had a sudden effect on Adler. He +opened his eyes wide and fell back into a +chair.</p> + +<p>"What is that you are saying, Martin?" he +gasped. "Johann! Water!"</p> + +<p>Johann brought the water, and the old man +calmed down by degrees. He gave no more +orders to fetch Ferdinand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the madcap might do such a thing," he +whispered in depression, and dropped his head on +his chest.</p> + +<p>This strong and energetic old man understood +that his son had taken the wrong turning and +ought to be led back, but he did not know how +to do it.</p> + +<p>Late at night Ferdinand returned home in an +excellent temper. He looked for his father in +all the rooms, left the doors open, and beat a +tattoo on tables and chairs with his walking-stick, +singing in a loud and false baritone:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">"Allons, enfants de la patrie...."</span> +</div> + +<p>He reached the study and stood before his +father, with his Scotch cap perched on the back +of his head, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and smelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +of wine; sparks of mirth, untempered by reason, +were burning in his eyes. When he came to the +line</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i2">"Aux armes, citoyens!"</span> +</div> + +<p>his enthusiasm was such that he flourished his +cane over his father's head.</p> + +<p>The old man was not accustomed to people +who waved sticks over him. He sprang up from +his chair, and looking fiercely at his son, cried: +"You are drunk, you scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand stepped back and said coolly: +"Please don't call me a scoundrel, father; if I +get accustomed to being called such names at +home, it might not make the slightest difference +to me if anyone else called me or my father these +names. One can get accustomed to anything."</p> + +<p>The moderate tone and clear exposition did +not fail to impress the cotton-spinner.</p> + +<p>"You are without honour," he said after a +while; "you wanted to seduce old Boehme's +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Did you think it likely I should try to seduce +the mother?" asked Ferdinand in a tone of +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Stop these bad jokes," the father said angrily; +"the pastor has been here to-day, and requests +that you do not set foot in his house again. He +refuses to have anything to do with you."</p> + +<p>"What a pity!" Ferdinand laughed, throwing +his cap down on a pile of papers, and himself at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +full length upon the sofa. "He is really doing +me the greatest favour by releasing me from +those dull visits. They are a queer lot. The old +man believes that he is living among cannibals, +and is always converting somebody or rejoicing +at somebody's conversion. The old woman has +nothing but water on the brain, in which that +learned snail, Józio, swims about. The daughter +is sacred like an altar at which only pastors are +allowed to officiate. When she has had two +children, she will be a skeleton like her mother, +and then I congratulate her husband. How +dreadfully dull and pedantic all these people are!"</p> + +<p>"Very well, they may be pedantic," said his +father; "but if you had been with them you +would not have squandered sixty thousand +roubles."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand had just started a yawn, but did +not finish it. He sat up on the sofa and looked +sorrowfully at his father.</p> + +<p>"I see, father, you will never forget those few +thousand roubles."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I shan't forget them," shouted the +old man. "How can a man in his right mind +spend so much money for devil knows what? I +was going to tell you that yesterday."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand took his feet off the sofa, smacked +his knee with his hand, and feeling that his +father's anger did not go very deep, began:</p> + +<p>"My dear father, let us for once in our lives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +have a reasonable talk. I suppose you do not +look upon me any more as a child?"</p> + +<p>"You are a monkey," the old man said abruptly. +His heart was touched by his son's seriousness.</p> + +<p>"Well then, father, as a man who looks below +the surface of things, you probably understand, +though you won't confess to it, that I am such +as Nature and our family made me. Our family +does not consist of such units as the pastor and +his son. Our family was once upon a time given +the name of 'Adler,'<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> not 'frog' or 'crab.' If +you look at it even from the physical point of +view, you can see that it consists of people with +huge frames. It possesses a man who has gained +millions and an excellent position in a strange +country only through the work of his ten fingers. +That shows that our family has imagination and +strength."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand said all this with true or feigned +emotion, and his father was much impressed.</p> + +<p>"Is it my fault," he went on, gradually raising +his voice, "that I have inherited this imagination +and this strength from my ancestors? I must +live more fully and do more than a 'stone' or +a 'flower,' or even an ordinary 'bird'—for I am +an 'eagle.' I am not satisfied with a narrow +corner; I must have the world. My strength +requires that I should either have great obstacles +to overcome and difficult circumstances to master, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +or else I must have plenty of dissipation. Otherwise +I should burst. Men of temperament either +wreck empires or become criminals. Bismarck +smashed beer-mugs on the heads of the Philistines +before he smashed up the Austrian and French +Empires. He was then exactly what I am to-day. +To rise to the surface and to be a true 'eagle,' +I must have suitable circumstances; I am not +living in my proper sphere now. I have nothing +to fix my attention on, and nothing to wear out +my strength; that is why I am so fast. If I +weren't, I should die like an eagle in a cage. You +have your aims in life; you order about hundreds +of workmen, and set engines in motion; you have +had a big fight to assert yourself against others +and to get your money. I have not even got that +pleasure. What is there for me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Who prevents you from taking an interest +in the factory, or ordering the people about and +increasing our capital? That would be a better +thing than to go and waste it."</p> + +<p>"All right!" exclaimed Ferdinand, jumping +up; "give me some of your authority, and I will +set to work to-morrow. It will be with really +hard work that my wings will grow. Well now, +will you give over the management of the factory +to me to-morrow? I will take it over, if it's only +for something to do; I am tired of this empty life."</p> + +<p>Had old Adler had tears to shed, he would have +cried for joy, but he had to be satisfied with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +pressing his son's hand repeatedly. He had +surpassed all his expectations. What a piece of +luck that Ferdinand should wish to take over the +management of the factory! In a few years +their fortune would be doubled, and then they +would go out into the world and look for a wider +horizon for the young eagle.</p> + +<p>The mill-owner slept badly that night. The +next morning Ferdinand really went to the mill, +and made the round of all the departments. The +workmen looked at him with curiosity, and vied +with one another in giving him information and +carrying out his orders. The jolly, friendly +young man, who was quite the opposite to his +stern father, made a favourable impression on +them. But all the same, at ten o'clock one of +the foremen came to the office to complain that +the young gentleman was flirting with his wife +and behaving improperly with the workwomen.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Adler.</p> + +<p>In an hour's time the foreman of the spinning +department came running in with a frightened +face.</p> + +<p>"Pan Adler," he shouted, "Pan Ferdinand has +heard that the hands have had their wages reduced, +and he is urging them to leave. He is repeating +this in all the workrooms, and is telling the hands +all sorts of strange things."</p> + +<p>"Has the fellow gone out of his mind?" burst +out the mill-owner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>He sent for his son immediately, and ran to +meet him. They met in front of the warehouse, +Ferdinand with a lighted cigar in his mouth.</p> + +<p>"What! you are smoking in the factory? +Throw that down at once!" and the old man +took it away from him and stamped on it angrily.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Am I not allowed to +smoke a cigar? I—I?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody is allowed to smoke inside the +factory," bawled Adler. "You will set the place +on fire. You are stirring up my workpeople. +Get out of this!"</p> + +<p>The encounter had many witnesses, and Ferdinand +was offended.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you are going to treat me like this, I +have done with you. Upon my honour, I won't +set foot in your factory again. I have had enough +of these pleasant home scenes."</p> + +<p>He stamped on his cigar and went into the +house without even looking at his father, who +was panting hard with mingled feelings of anger +and shame.</p> + +<p>When they met again at lunch, old Adler said:</p> + +<p>"Well, you need not trouble me with your +help. I will give you a monthly allowance of +three hundred roubles, a carriage, horses and +servants, and you can do what you like, provided +you promise me to keep away from the mill."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand leaned his elbows on the table, and +said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear father, let us talk like reasonable +people. I cannot waste my life in this house. +I have mentioned to you before that I am threatened +with an illness called 'spleen,' and that +the doctors have forbidden me to be bored. As +our life here is very monotonous, I feel already +that I am beginning to fail. I do not want to +grieve you, but if I am condemned to death——"</p> + +<p>His father was frightened.</p> + +<p>"But I am going to give you three hundred +roubles a month," he shouted.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand made a contemptuous gesture.</p> + +<p>"Well, say four hundred, then."</p> + +<p>The son shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"Six hundred—but the devil take you!" +screamed Adler, banging the table with his fist. +"I cannot give more; the mill economies cannot +be strained any further. You will make me +bankrupt."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I will try and live on six hundred +a month," replied his son. "Oh, I wish my +illness would——"</p> + +<p>The wretch knew that it was not worth while +going to Warsaw with such an income, but that +here in the country he could be the king of the +local <i>jeunesse dorée</i>, and for the present he was +satisfied with his part. He was really a very +reasonable young man for his age....</p> + +<p>From that day onwards Ferdinand began to +live very fast again, though on a smaller scale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +than before. He paid visits to all the landowners +in the neighbourhood. The more respectable +among them did not receive him at all, or +received him and did not return his call; for old +Adler did not enjoy a good reputation, and his +son was known as a ne'er-do-well. Nevertheless +he succeeded in scraping up an acquaintance with +several younger and elderly gentlemen of his own +type, whom he met frequently in the little country +town, or entertained ostentatiously at his father's +house, where the cuisine and cellars greatly +attracted them.</p> + +<p>The old manufacturer would slip away during +these festivities. Though the titles and perfect +manners of some of Ferdinand's friends flattered +his pride, yet on the whole he did not like these +men, and would often say to his old book-keeper:</p> + +<p>"If these gentlemen would pool their debts, +we could build three factories the size of ours with +the amount."</p> + +<p>"A respectable set," whispered the obsequious +book-keeper.</p> + +<p>"Fools!" said Adler.</p> + +<p>"That's what I mean," smiled the book-keeper +submissively from under his shade.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand spent whole nights playing cards +and drinking. He had many love adventures, +and acquired a bad reputation. Meanwhile the +factory hands were ground down by more and +more "economies." Fines were imposed for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +coming late, for talking, for damages which were +often purely imaginary. Those who were unable +to do arithmetic had their wages simply reduced. +They all cursed their employer and his son, for +they saw the debauchery that was going on, and +knew that they themselves were paying for it.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> IV</div> + +<p>Many years ago a certain nobleman had lived in +the part of Poland to which we have introduced +the reader, who was called a "crank" by his +neighbours. He did not lead a dissipated life, +and had married only when well advanced in +years; but there was a stain upon his character—namely +this: he indulged in teaching the peasants. +He opened an elementary school where all the +children were taught reading, writing and arithmetic, +had religious instruction, and learnt a +little tailoring and cobbling. Every boy had to +learn to make simple suits, shirts and caps. All +this formed the basis of the education. Afterwards +he engaged a gardener, a blacksmith, a +locksmith, a carpenter and a wheelwright, and +the pupils now passed on to instruction in these +trades, as well as to advanced arithmetic, geometry +and drawing. The nobleman himself +taught geography and history, read instructive +books to the pupils, and told them countless +anecdotes, all of which had the same moral—namely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +that being honest, patient, industrious +and thrifty, among other good qualities, gave a +man the true value of a human being.</p> + +<p>The neighbouring landowners complained that +he was spoiling the peasants, and experts laughed +because he taught the boys all the trades. But +he shrugged his shoulders, and said that if there +were more Robinson Crusoes on earth, forced to +know something of all trades while they were +young, there would be fewer ignoramuses, loafers, +scoundrels, or slaves tied to one place.</p> + +<p>"Besides," said the quaint old man, "this is +a whim of mine, if you like that better. You +breed particular kinds of dogs, cattle and horses; +why shouldn't I breed a particular class of human +beings?"</p> + +<p>He died suddenly, and his relations inherited +his property, ran through it in a few years, and +the school was forgotten. But it had produced +a certain number of men of great economic, +intellectual and moral value, though none of +these ever occupied prominent positions.</p> + +<p>The nobleman's spirit would have rejoiced at +his pupils' progress, for he had not brought them +up to be geniuses, but to be useful, average +citizens such as are always needed in the community. +One of these pupils was Kazimierz +Gosławski. He, too, had learnt various trades, +but he took a special liking to two of them—those +of blacksmith and locksmith. He could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +also draw a plan of an engine or a building, make +mathematical calculations, prepare a wooden +model of a foundry, and at a pinch make his own +clothes and boots. The longer Gosławski lived, +the more he appreciated his master's methods, and +realized the practical importance of the anecdotes. +He held his benefactor's memory sacred, and he +and his wife and little daughter prayed for his +soul every day. Gosławski had been working in +the mechanical part of Adler's factory for seven +years, and was the soul of the workshop. His +earnings amounted to two and sometimes even +to three roubles a day. There was a certain +head-mechanic knocking about who drew a salary +of fifteen hundred roubles a year, but he occupied +himself more with factory scandals than with his +own work.</p> + +<p>In order to uphold his authority, this mechanic +gave orders and explanations, but he did it in +such a way that no one either understood them +or attempted to carry them out; and this was a +blessing for the factory, for had his mechanical +ideas been realized in iron, steel and wood, the +greater part of the engines would have had to go +into the melting-pot.</p> + +<p>It was only after Gosławski had found out the +damage done to an engine, and put his hand to +repairing it, that things went right again. More +than once this simple locksmith had replaced +parts of engines; unconsciously he had sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +made inventions without anyone knowing about +it. If it had been known, the invention would +have been put down to the genius of the head-mechanic, +who always boasted of his achievements, +and regretted that in this unintelligent Poland +one had no chances of becoming director of +several factories, no matter of what kind.</p> + +<p>Adler had too keen an eye not to see Gosławski's +value and the incompetence of his head-mechanic. +But Gosławski was made of too dangerous a +material to be given a place as independent +manager, and the head-mechanic was a good +scandal-monger; so he was kept in the foreground, +and the other did the work. In this way everybody +was satisfied, and the world at large never +suspected that the well-known factory was really +run by the brains of a "stupid Polish workman."</p> + +<p>Gosławski was a man of medium height, with +the coarse hands and bow-legs of a workman. +When he was bending over his vice he was indistinguishable +from the others; but when he looked +up from under his mop of dark hair, his thin, +pale face showed that he was an intellectually +developed human being with a nervous disposition. +Yet his calmness and the look in his thoughtful +grey eyes proved that reason prevailed over his +temperament.</p> + +<p>He talked neither too much nor too little, and +never too loudly. Sometimes he got animated, +but never let himself be carried away by excitement;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +and he knew how to listen, looking attentively +and intelligently all the while into the +speaker's eyes. Only to factory scandals he +listened with half an ear and without interrupting +his work. "What is the good of these things?" +he used to say. But he would interrupt his most +important work to listen to explanations coming +within the range of his profession. He kept +himself a little aloof from his fellow-workmen, +though he was always friendly and ready to give +advice, or even help, in small jobs. Yet he +would never ask anybody's help for himself, for +he had the same respect for a man's knowledge +or time that he had for his money. The aim of +his life was to establish a smith's workshop of his +own. For this reason he hoarded up his earnings; +he did not trust his money to the bank, and did +not like to lend it to his fellow-workmen: rather +would he give away a rouble or two now and then. +For he was not mean: both he and his wife had +plenty of clothes, plain but good, and on Sundays +he would not begrudge himself a glass of beer +or even a glass of wine. By means of this reasonable +economy he had saved about eighteen hundred +roubles, and was now looking about for the loan +of a small building on some landowner's estate, +in which he could set up his workshop. In +exchange he would give preference to the landowner's +orders. These arrangements are often +made between a landowner and his smith, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +Gosławski had a place of this kind in view for +Michaelmas.</p> + +<p>His earnings in the mill were rather uncertain. +When a new line was tried in the manufacture +of cotton goods (and in this Gosławski was unequalled), +he was very well paid by the piece; +but when the experiment had turned out a success, +and he had taught others how to do the work, +his pay was reduced by half, or even three-quarters; +sometimes he was only paid the tenth +part. To keep the level of his wages higher, +he would often work overtime, come early and +stay late.</p> + +<p>When the workmen complained that the boss +was cheating them, Gosławski replied that they +could not wonder, for they were cheating him in +return. But sometimes he would lose patience, +and mutter between his teeth:</p> + +<p>"Vile German thief!"</p> + +<p>Gosławski's wife wished to help her husband +by working in the mill too, but he gave her a +good scolding.</p> + +<p>"You had better look after the child and the +dinner! For every rouble you earn at the mill, +two are lost at home."</p> + +<p>He knew quite well, however, that she would +earn more and the home would lose less; but he +was ambitious, and did not want the wife of a +future master to mix with common factory +women. He was a good husband; sometimes he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +grumbled that the dinner was unpunctual or +badly cooked, that the child was dirty, or that his +shirt had been made too blue. But he never +made a scene or raised his voice. On Sundays +he took his wife to church, a few versts off, and +when it was fine he carried his little girl there +too. Whenever he went into the town, he bought +a toy for the child and some little piece of finery +for his wife. He loved his little girl, though he +was sorry not to have a son.</p> + +<p>"What is the good of a girl?" he said. "You +bring her up for another, and have to provide her +with a dowry into the bargain to get her settled. +With a son it is different: he is a support to you in +your old age, and might take over the workshop."</p> + +<p>"Just you get the workshop started, and then +the son will come too," his wife replied.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, you have been saying that for three +years; there is not much hope of you, as far as +I can see," said the locksmith.</p> + +<p>His wife was, however, not boasting without +reason this time; for in the sixth year of their +marriage, about the time when young Adler +returned from abroad, she had given birth to a +son. Gosławski was beside himself with joy. He +spent about thirty roubles on the christening, +and bought his wife a new dress, not counting the +expenses of the confinement. His savings were +thereby diminished by several hundred roubles, but +he resolved to make them up before Michaelmas.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, to his misfortune, "economy" was +introduced into the mill. This time Gosławski +cursed with the others, but he went on working +with redoubled zeal. He went to the mill at +five o'clock in the morning, and did not come +back till eleven o'clock at night, too tired to greet +his wife or kiss the children. He fell on to the +bed in his clothes, and slept like a log.</p> + +<p>Such extreme effort annoyed his fellow-workmen; +and his friend Źaliński, the engineer, a fat +and quick-tempered man, said to him: "Kazik, +why the devil are you toadying up to the boss +and spoiling other people's chances? When they +went to him yesterday to complain about the +wages, he said to them: 'Do as Gosławski does; +then you will have enough.'"</p> + +<p>Gosławski excused himself.</p> + +<p>"You see, my dear fellow, my wife has been +ill, and I have had very heavy expenses. I +would like to make up as much as I can, because, +you know, I want to start on my own. What +else am I to do since that dog has reduced the +wages? I must go on slaving like this, though +I have a pain in my side and my head swims."</p> + +<p>"Bah!" said Źaliński; "I suppose you will take +it out of the journeymen in your own workshop."</p> + +<p>Gosławski shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to profit by doing wrong. I +don't give what is mine for nothing, but I won't +take what belongs to others, either."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>And he went off to his work, which, though he +was used to it, had worn him out lately to such +an extent that he was not able to collect his +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"If only I can start on my own," he thought, +"I shall forget all this."</p> + +<p>But the task was too great. To feed a family, +to save all he could, to make up the expenses +caused by his wife's confinement, and to pay for +young Adler's travels into the bargain, went +beyond the strength of any human being.</p> + +<p>He looked sad and got still thinner and paler; +sometimes the perspiration would break out all +over him, and he would drop his hands on his +vice and wonder why his brain, usually so quick, +felt quite empty and dark. Possibly he would +have slackened off if he had not seen in the darkness +a fiery signboard:</p> + +<p> + GOSŁAWSKI'S MECHANICAL WORKSHOP....<br /> +</p> + +<p>Get on! Only three months more!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile fortune again smiled on Adler. +The demand for his goods, which were excellent, +was greater than ever, and in July double the +amount of orders came in. He accepted them +all after consulting his confidential clerks, and +bought up cotton with all his available capital. +The hands were told that they would have to +work until nine o'clock in the evening, and they +were to be paid double for overtime. More<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +workshops were added, and the question of how +to make use of the Sundays arose. With regard +to this Adler had his plan ready. Sunday work +was to be paid at a double rate in the beginning, +but in a measure, as the hands got used to it, the +pay would be reduced.</p> + +<p>If everything went all right, Adler calculated +that the profits of the current year would make +it possible for him to sell the factory, for which +he would easily find a purchaser, and to take his +millions and his son abroad.</p> + +<p>Thus both the workman and the principal were +simultaneously approaching the realization of their +hopes.</p> + +<p>The increased activity in the mill affected the +engineering workshop in the first place. New +hands were taken on, the compulsory hours were +extended until nine, and overtime work until +midnight. The first two hours of overtime were +paid double, the next three times as much. A +stricter control was introduced, and if anyone +left off work before time, so much was deducted +from his wages that his profits were practically +reduced to nothing. The hands were weary in +consequence, especially Gosławski, who, as the +most expert, was obliged to work until midnight.</p> + +<p>Even he himself felt that he could not go on +at this rate, and asked for relief. The millionaire +agreed, and proposed a new arrangement. Gosławski +was in future to receive a fixed salary, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +work with his hands only at those parts of the +machinery which required the greatest exactitude. +His chief business would be to supervise the +general run of the work and direct others. He +would in reality be the head of the workshop, and +while doing the work of a simple workman receive +the pay of a head-mechanic.</p> + +<p>No German would have agreed to such a +proposal, but when it was first made it flattered +Gosławski. He soon realized, however, that he +was being exploited again, for he had to work +physically as hard as before, and had in addition +a greater strain on his mind. All day long he +had to rush from the vice to the anvil, and from +the anvil to the lathe, and was importuned besides +by his fellow-workmen, who thought that Gosławski +was there not only to give them information, +but to do their work for them as well.</p> + +<p>By the end of June he looked like an automaton. +He never smiled, and hardly ever talked +about anything that was not connected with his +work. He, who had been so particular about +tidiness, began to neglect his appearance. He +ceased to go to church on Sundays, and slept till +midday instead. In his relations with others he +became irritable. His one pleasure was to sleep; +he slept like a man in convalescence. He became +a little more animated perhaps, when he kissed +his little son "Good-morning" or "Good-night."</p> + +<p>Gosławski himself quite understood the state<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +he was in. He knew that the hard work was +wearing him out, but he saw no way of freeing +himself from it. The contract with the landowner +could not be signed before August, and he could +not take possession of the workshop till October. +If he left the mill he would have to live on his +ready money, and spend in a few months some +hundreds of roubles which were indispensable for +the new start. The only thing to be done was +to stick to his post and strain his strength to the +utmost. Perhaps a week's rest after he had +moved into his own household would restore the +disturbed balance of his organism.</p> + +<p>But he was sick of the mill. He carried a +little calendar about with him on which he crossed +out the days as they passed: only two months +and a half now; sixty-five days; two months +only!...<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> V</div> + +<p>On a certain Saturday night in August the engineering +workshop was in a ferment of rush and +work.</p> + +<p>It was a large building covered with glass like +a hothouse; along one wall was the power-engine, +along the other two forges. There was also a +small hammer worked by a hand-wheel, several +vices, a lathe, drilling machinery and a number +of hand tools. Midnight was approaching, the +lights had long been put out in all the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +parts of the mill; the tired weavers were asleep +in their homes.</p> + +<p>But here the great rush goes on. The hurried +breath of the engine, the throb of the pumps, +the din of the hammer, the rattle of the lathe, +the grating of the files increase more and more. +The air is soaked with steam, coal-dust and fine +iron filings; the flames of the gas-lamps flicker +through the heavy atmosphere like will-o'-the-wisps. +Outside there is the stillness of night as +a background to the mill; the moon peeps in +through the glass which quivers incessantly from +the noise.</p> + +<p>There is hardly any talking in the room; the +work is urgent, the hour late, so the men hurry +on in silence. Here a group of grimy blacksmiths +are dragging a huge white-hot iron bar to +be hammered; there a row of them bend and raise +themselves as under a command over their vices. +Opposite them the turners bend to watch the +revolving work in the machines. Sparks fly from +under the hammer. From time to time an order +or a curse is heard. Sometimes the hammering and +filing slackens down, and then the mournful groan +of the bellows blowing on to the furnaces begins.</p> + +<p>Gosławski is at the lathe, turning a large steel +cylinder; the work must be done exactly to the +thousandth of an inch! But somehow Gosławski +is off his work. There had been so much to do +that day that he had not been able to leave the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +workshop during the evening recess; he is even +more than usually tired therefore. A light fever +torments him, streams of perspiration flow down +his body, at moments he has hallucinations, and +then he imagines that he is somewhere else, far +away. But he quickly rouses himself, rubs his eyes +with his grimy hands to shake off the lassitude, +and looks anxiously to see whether the cutting +tool has not taken away too much of the cylinder.</p> + +<p>"I am dead-beat," said his neighbour to him.</p> + +<p>"So am I," replied Gosławski, sitting down on +a stool.</p> + +<p>"It's the heat," said the other. "The engine is +red-hot, the blacksmiths are working with both +forges; besides, it is getting late. Take a pinch +of snuff."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," replied Gosławski, "I should +like a pipe, but not snuff. I would rather have +a drink of water."</p> + +<p>He stepped away and dipped a rusty mug into +a barrel of water. But the water was warm, and +instead of being refreshed, Gosławski felt the +perspiration breaking out still more. He was +losing his strength.</p> + +<p>"What's the time?" he asked his neighbour.</p> + +<p>"A quarter to twelve. Will you finish work +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so. I must still take a hair's-breadth +off the cylinder; but, damn it! I see +everything double."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's the heat—the heat!" repeated the neighbour, +taking another pinch of snuff and moving +away.</p> + +<p>Gosławski measured the diameter of the cylinder, +moved the cutting tool, clamped it with the +screws, and once more set the machine in motion. +After the momentary strain of attention there +followed a reaction in him, and he began to doze +standing, his eyes fixed on the shining surface of +the cylinder, on which drops of water were falling.</p> + +<p>"Did you speak?" he suddenly asked his +neighbour.</p> + +<p>But the man, bending over his work, did not +hear the question.</p> + +<p>At that moment Gosławski fancied that he was +at home: his wife and children are asleep; the +lamp, turned low, is burning on the chest of +drawers; his bed is ready for him.... Yes, +here is the table, there is the chair! Worn out +with fatigue, he wants to sit down on the chair; he +leans his heavy arm on the edge of the table....</p> + +<p>The lathe made a strange noise. Something +cracked in it and began to go to pieces, and a +dreadful human shriek resounded through the +workroom....</p> + +<p>Gosławski's right hand had been caught between +the cogwheels; in the twinkling of an eye he was +hung up as though welded to the machinery, +which had got hold first of the fingers, then of +the hand, then of the bone up to the elbow: the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +blood gushed out. The wretched man saw what +had happened and tore himself away; the crushed +and broken bones and torn muscles were not able +to bear the load, they broke, and Gosławski fell +heavily to the floor.</p> + +<p>All this happened within a few seconds.</p> + +<p>"Stop the engine!" shouted Gosławski's neighbour.</p> + +<p>The engine was stopped, and all the men left +their work and came running up to the wounded +man. Someone poured a can of water over him; +one young man had a fit when he saw the blood; +others ran out of the workshop without knowing +why.</p> + +<p>"Fetch the doctor!" Gosławski cried in a +changed voice.</p> + +<p>"A horse ... hurry up! ... run to the +town!" shouted the workmen, as if they were +out of their senses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the blood, the blood!" groaned the +wounded man.</p> + +<p>The bystanders did not know what he meant.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, stop the blood! Tie up my +arm!"</p> + +<p>Nobody moved; they did not know how to stop +the blood, and were paralyzed with fright.</p> + +<p>"What a place this is!" cried the man who +had been working next to Gosławski—"no doctor, +no bone-setter!... Where is Schmidt? Run +for Schmidt!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some ran for Schmidt. Meanwhile one of the +old blacksmiths showed more presence of mind +than the others, knelt down, and compressed the +arm above the elbow with his hands. The blood +began to flow more slowly. It was a terrible +injury; part of the arm and two fingers were left, +the rest had been torn away. At last, after a +quarter of an hour, Schmidt, who took the doctor's +place in the factory, appeared. He was just as +terrified as the rest, and bandaged the wounded +arm with rags, which instantly became soaked +with blood. He ordered the men to carry Gosławski +home. They laid him on some boards; +two men carried him, two supported his head, the +rest crowded round, and they all moved away in +a body.</p> + +<p>There was no one in the offices, and no light +showed in Adler's house. The dogs, scenting +blood, began to howl; the night watchman took +off his cap and looked with pale face after the +procession moving along the highroad, which was +flooded by the moonlight.</p> + +<p>A factory hand appeared at an open window +in his shirt-sleeves, and called out:</p> + +<p>"Hallo! What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Gosławski has had his hand torn off!"</p> + +<p>The wounded man uttered low groans. Suddenly +the clatter of hoofs was heard, and a carriage +with a pair of greys and a coachman in livery +appeared on the highroad. Ferdinand, who was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +returning from a drinking bout, was lolling +inside.</p> + +<p>"Out of the way!" shouted the coachman.</p> + +<p>"Out of the way yourself! We are carrying +a wounded man!"</p> + +<p>The procession drew near to the carriage. Ferdinand +Adler roused himself, looked out of the +carriage, and asked:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter there?"</p> + +<p>"Gosławski has had his hand torn off."</p> + +<p>"Gosławski? Is that the fellow who has the +pretty wife?" said Ferdinand.</p> + +<p>There was a momentary silence. Then somebody +murmured:</p> + +<p>"How sharp he is!"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand regained his senses, and asked, +changing his voice:</p> + +<p>"Has the doctor dressed his wounds?"</p> + +<p>"There is no doctor in the factory."</p> + +<p>"Ah, true.... Has the bone-setter seen to it?"</p> + +<p>"There is no bone-setter either, now."</p> + +<p>"Very well then: horses must be sent to fetch +the doctor from the town."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir, you would order your coachman +to turn round?" one of the men suggested.</p> + +<p>"My horses are tired," said Ferdinand; "I will +send others." And the carriage moved on.</p> + +<p>"What a fellow!" said the workmen; "we can +wear ourselves out, and he does not think of giving +us rest; but his horses must be rested!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, well ... you have got to pay for horses, +and workpeople can be had for nothing," another +replied.</p> + +<p>The crowd was approaching Gosławski's cottage. +A lamp was burning in the window. One of the +workmen gently knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>"Who is there?"</p> + +<p>"Open the door, Pani Gosławska!"</p> + +<p>In a moment a woman appeared half dressed +in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked, looking terrified at +the crowd.</p> + +<p>"Your husband has had a slight accident, so +we brought him home."</p> + +<p>"Jesus!" she cried, and ran up to the stretcher. +"Oh, Kazio, what has happened to you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't wake the children," whispered her +husband.</p> + +<p>"What a lot of blood—Mother of Mercy!"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet!" murmured the wounded man. +"My hand has been torn off, but that is nothing; +send for the doctor."</p> + +<p>The woman trembled and began to sob. Two +workmen took her by the arms and led her into +the room; others carried the wounded man inside. +His face was distorted with pain, and he bit his +lips to suppress the groans that might have waked +the children.</p> + +<p>In the morning Adler was informed of the +accident. He listened in silence, and asked:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Has the doctor been?"</p> + +<p>"We sent for the doctor and for the bone-setter, +but they were both out, attending to other +patients."</p> + +<p>"Fetch another doctor. Telegraph to Warsaw +for a locksmith in Gosławski's place."</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock Adler went to the workshop +to have a look at the damaged lathe. Near the +machine he stepped by accident into a pool of +blood and shuddered, but soon recovered himself. +He carefully examined the cogwheel, to which bits +of flesh and of the torn shirt still adhered. There +were a few notches in the wheel.</p> + +<p>"Have we got another wheel like that?" he +asked the head-mechanic.</p> + +<p>"Yes," whispered the pale German, who was +sick at the sight of the blood.</p> + +<p>"Has the doctor come?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>Adler whistled through his teeth with impatience. +The absence of the doctor made a +very unpleasant impression on him. At last, +about noon, he was informed that the doctor had +arrived. The old man quickly left the house. +In passing the room where Ferdinand was still +sleeping off the effects of his drinking bout, he +beat a tattoo on the door with his stick, but got +no answer. There was a large crowd outside +Gosławski's cottage, for hardly anyone had gone +to church. They all wanted to know the details<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> +of Gosławski's accident. A neighbour had taken +his wife and children to her house.</p> + +<p>All conversation was stopped when the crowd +caught sight of Adler. Only the most timid +took off their caps, the others turned their heads +away, and the boldest looked at him without +raising their hands to their caps.</p> + +<p>The mill-owner was struck. "What do they +want of me?" he thought.</p> + +<p>He spoke to one of the workmen, a German, +and asked how the sick man was.</p> + +<p>"They can't tell," the man answered sullenly. +"They say his whole arm had to be taken off."</p> + +<p>Adler sent someone to ask the doctor to come +out to him.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is he?" inquired the mill-owner.</p> + +<p>"Dying," answered the doctor.</p> + +<p>Adler was staggered, and exclaimed, raising his +voice:</p> + +<p>"What nonsense! People sometimes lose both +hands or both legs and don't die of it."</p> + +<p>"The dressing was bad; there had been enormous +loss of blood. Besides, the man had been +overworked."</p> + +<p>This answer soon made the round of the +crowd, and a murmur arose.</p> + +<p>"I will pay you well if you will look carefully +after him. It cannot be true that people die +from such an injury as that."</p> + +<p>At this moment the sick man cried out; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +doctor ran back into the house, and the mill-owner +turned to go home.</p> + +<p>"If there had been a doctor at the factory +this would not have happened!" someone in the +crowd called out.</p> + +<p>"We shall all come to this if they go on keeping +us at work till midnight," cried another.</p> + +<p>Curses and threats were uttered here and there. +But the old giant held his head erect, put his +hands in his pockets, and passed through the +thickest crowd. Only he half closed his eyes +and was pale down to his neck. He did not seem +to hear what those on the edge of the crowd were +saying, and those near him gave way, guessing +instinctively that this man was afraid neither of +curses nor even of an open attack.</p> + +<p>Towards evening Gosławski, whom the doctor +had not left for a moment, called for his wife. +She came in on tiptoe, staggering and keeping +back the tears that dimmed her eyes. The +wounded man looked strangely haggard, and +his eyes were fixed. In the dusk his face seemed +to have the colour of earth.</p> + +<p>"Where are you, Magdzia?" he asked indistinctly, +and then said, with long pauses: "Nothing +will come of our workshop now ... I have no +arm ... I am going to follow after it ... why +should I eat my bread for nothing?"</p> + +<p>His wife began to sob.</p> + +<p>"Are you there, Magdzia?... Remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +the children. The money for my funeral is in +the drawer—you know.... What a lot of flies +there are ... such a buzzing...."</p> + +<p>He began to toss about restlessly, and breathed +heavily, like a man going off into a deep sleep. +The doctor made a sign, and somebody took the +wife away almost by force and led her into the +friendly neighbour's cottage. In a few minutes +the doctor followed her there; the poor woman +looked into his eyes and knelt down on the floor +weeping bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir, why have you left him? Is he so +ill? Perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"The Lord will comfort you," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>The women crowded round to try and quiet her.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Pani Gosławska. The Lord gave +and the Lord has taken away. Get up and don't +cry—the children will hear you!"</p> + +<p>The widow was almost choked with sobs.</p> + +<p>"Let me be on the floor; I feel better here," +she whispered. "May the Lord give you all the +good, since He has given me all the bad. I have +lost my Kazio! Oh, my beloved! why did you +work so hard and suffer so much? Only yesterday +he said that we should be on our own in +October, and now he has gone to his grave instead +of to his workshop!"</p> + +<p>When the workmen entered into the dead +man's home and began to move the furniture +about, and she realized that no noise would wake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +her husband again, she gave a terrible shriek and +fainted.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Gosławski's death subsequently became the +cause of much disturbance at the factory and of +much trouble to Adler. A deputation waited +upon him on the Tuesday to ask permission for +all the hands to go to the funeral. Adler was +furious, and would only allow a few delegates +from each room to go, announcing at the same +time that every workman who should leave the +factory of his own accord would be fined. In +spite of this most of the hands left the mill, and +Adler posted up a notice that every workman +who had absented himself would have his daily +pay halved and would be fined a rouble in addition. +Whereupon the more spirited among the +hands urged their mates to strike, and one of the +stokers suggested the blowing up of the boiler. +Adler would have taken no notice of such talk +at another time, but now he was beside himself. +He called their grumbling mutiny, demanded +police from the town, drove the leaders out of +the mill and brought an action against the stoker.</p> + +<p>When the workpeople saw these drastic +measures, they were cowed into submission. +They ceased to threaten a strike, but asked for +the reinstatement of all the hands, and that at +least a bone-setter should be engaged with the +money extorted by the fines.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> + +<p>To this Adler replied that he would do what +he liked, when he liked, and refused to listen at +all to the demand for reinstatement of those he +had dismissed.</p> + +<p>By the following Monday things had calmed +down at the factory. Pastor Boehme came to +see Adler, with the intention of inducing him to +give way to some of the reasonable demands of +the workpeople. But he encountered an unexpected +resistance; the mill-owner declared that, +if he had ever had intentions of giving way to his +workpeople's demands, he no longer had any, +that he would rather close the factory than +give in.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Martin," he said, "that they +have got us talked about in the newspapers? The +comic papers have ridiculed Ferdinand, and it +has been said that Gosławski died from overwork +and because there was no doctor."</p> + +<p>"There is some truth in that," answered +Boehme.</p> + +<p>"There is no truth whatsoever in it," shouted +the mill-owner. "I have worked much harder +than Gosławski, every German workman works +harder; and as for the doctor, he might just as +well have been absent from the factory to visit +a patient, as he was from town at that particular +moment."</p> + +<p>"The bone-setter might have been there at +any rate," observed the pastor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Adler gave no answer. He walked up and +down the room with long strides, breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"Let us go into the garden," he proposed. +"Johann, take a bottle of hock into the summer-house."</p> + +<p>The pleasant coolness in the summer-house near +the pond, the freshness of the wind rustling in +the trees, and perhaps the glass of good wine, +gradually soothed Adler. Pastor Boehme looked +at him over the rim of his gold spectacles, and +seeing him in a better mood, resolved to return to +the attack.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, clinking his glass against +Adler's, "a man who keeps such excellent wine +as this cannot have a bad heart. Let them off +their fines, Gottlieb, take them all on again, and +install a doctor.... Your health!"</p> + +<p>"I will drink your health, Martin, but I promise +nothing of the sort," repeated the mill-owner, +although his anger had somewhat cooled.</p> + +<p>The pastor shook his head, and muttered:</p> + +<p>"H'm! it's a pity you are so obstinate!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot sacrifice my interest to sentiments. +If I give them a thousand roubles to-day, they +will want a million to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You exaggerate," said Boehme, annoyed; +"my advice is that, if you can settle this business +for ten thousand roubles, give fifteen thousand +rather, and make an end of it."</p> + +<p>"It is at an end already," said Adler. "The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +worst of them are gone, and the rest know that +there is discipline here. If I were as soft-hearted +as you, they would trample me under foot."</p> + +<p>The pastor said nothing, but began to throw +things on to the surface of the pond—first a cork, +then bits of wood broken off from a stick.</p> + +<p>"My dear Martin, what are you throwing +rubbish on the water for?" asked Adler.</p> + +<p>The pastor pointed towards the pond, where +the things he had thrown upon the water were +making circles that grew larger and larger.</p> + +<p>"Do you see how the waves are getting +farther and farther away from the middle?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"They are always doing that. What is there +peculiar in it?"</p> + +<p>"You are quite right," said the pastor; "it is +always like that—everywhere, on the pond and +in our lives. When something good happens in +the world, waves are produced by it; they grow +larger and larger and extend farther and farther."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you," said Adler indifferently, +sipping his wine.</p> + +<p>"I will explain it to you, if you will not be +angry with me."</p> + +<p>"I am never angry with you."</p> + +<p>"Very well. You see, it is like this: you have +brought your son up badly and have turned him +loose upon the world, as I threw that stick into +the water. He has incurred debts—that was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +first wave. Then you reduced the workmen's +pay—that was the second. Gosławski's death +was the third; the troubles in the factory and the +newspaper scandals were the fourth; and so on +with the dismissal of the hands and the lawsuit. +What will the tenth wave be?"</p> + +<p>"That does not concern me," said Adler. "Let +your waves go out into the world and frighten +fools; I am not interested in them."</p> + +<p>The pastor pointed to a cork he had just thrown +on to the surface.</p> + +<p>"Look, Gottlieb, sometimes it is the tenth +wave which rebounds on the shore and returns to +where it came from."</p> + +<p>The old mill-owner reflected for a while on this +demonstration, which was quite clear, and for a +brief moment it seemed as if he were hesitating, +as if an indefinable fear had sprung up in him. +But it was only for a moment. Adler had too +little imagination and reasoned too obstinately to +foresee remote possibilities. He convinced himself +that the pastor was talking drivel and preaching +one of his sermons, so he laughed and replied +in his thick voice:</p> + +<p>"No, no, Martin; I have taken proper precautions +to prevent your waves from returning +to me."</p> + +<p>"How can you tell?"</p> + +<p>"The doctor will not come back, nor the leaders +of the strike, nor the fines, nor even Gosławski!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But misfortune may return."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no, it will not return! ... or if it +does it will break against my fists, against the +factory, the insurance, the police ... and above +all against my money...."</p> + +<p>It was late when the friends parted.</p> + +<p>"What a fool Martin is!" thought Adler; "he +means to frighten me."</p> + +<p>The pastor, driving home in his little cart and +looking upwards to the starlit sky, asked anxiously: +"Which of the waves will return?" The comparison +had come into his head unexpectedly, and +he looked upon it as a sort of revelation. He +believed firmly that the wave of wrong would +turn; but when? ... which of them would it +be?...<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> VI</div> + +<p>Generally, good or bad actions only assume their +proper significance in people's opinion when they +are reported in print. It had been known for a +long time that old Adler was an egoist and a +sweater, and his son an egoist and a debauchee. +But public opinion had not been raised against +them before the articles on Gosławski's death had +been published. After that the whole neighbourhood +became interested in what was going on at +the mill. Everybody knew the extent of Ferdinand's +debts, the sums which old Adler sweated +out of his workmen by reducing their pay, etc.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +Gosławski was considered to have been a victim +of the father's greed and the son's debauchery.</p> + +<p>Public opinion made itself felt in people's +relations to Ferdinand. A few young men had +cut him dead at the request of their parents; +others preserved only the outward forms of +politeness. Even from the friends that stuck to +him, and these were not of the best sort, he often +heard remarks which sounded like a provocation.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all. In hotels and restaurants, +wineshops and cafés, though they had made +much money out of Ferdinand, newspapers containing +correspondence about Gosławski's death +were purposely put on his table; and when, surrounded +by his friends, he once called for wine +and wished to know if a good kind of red wine +were to be had, he got the answer:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, red as blood."</p> + +<p>Another man might have been impressed by +these manifestations of general ill-will, and might +have gone away for a time, or even changed his +mode of living and exercised some influence over +his father. Not so Ferdinand. He had no desire +to work and no intention of giving up his amusements. +Public opinion not only did not distress +him—he liked to provoke it. He judged people's +standard by that of the companions of his revels, +and felt sure that sooner or later everybody +would crawl to him. The silent struggle between +him and the public excited him pleasurably, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +he saw possibilities of future triumphs in it; for +he was determined to quarrel with the first person +who should get in his way. He felt in desperate +need of a quarrel to revive his jaded nerves and +to establish his reputation as a dangerous adversary. +In his own way he delighted in breaking +down obstacles, for he was his father's true son.</p> + +<p>He had a great dislike to a certain Pan Zapora, +a landowner and a judge. This man was of severe +and unprepossessing appearance, of medium +height, thick-set, and with overhanging brows. +He talked little, but in a decided way, made +no ceremonies with anybody, and called a spade +a spade. But behind his rough exterior he possessed +great intelligence and a wide knowledge, +a noble heart and a loyal character. It was +impossible to ingratiate oneself with him either +by politeness, position, or the propounding of +theories. With him only actions counted. He +would listen indifferently to talk, looking sullenly +at the speaker and taking his measure all the +while. But if he found a man to be honest he +would become his friend for good or ill. For +people with bad character or no character at all +he had a profound contempt.</p> + +<p>Young Adler had met this formidable judge +several times, but had never talked to him, as +there had been no opportunity. Zapora neither +sought nor avoided him; his friends knew, however, +that when he spoke of "that fool," he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +meant Ferdinand, and the more experienced felt +sure that the two men would meet sooner or later +in the narrow sphere of provincial life, and that +Adler would then hear a few bitter home-truths. +Ferdinand instinctively felt Zapora's dislike for +him; more than that, he suspected him of being +the author of the newspaper articles. He was in +no hurry to make his acquaintance, but he had +made up his mind to pay him out at the first +opportunity that offered.</p> + +<p>In the beginning of September the usual fair +took place in the little town, and the noblemen +from the surrounding districts were in the habit +of meeting on this occasion. Zapora, who had +an office in the town, settled some pressing affairs, +purchased what he needed, and went to have +dinner at the hotel at two o'clock in the afternoon.</p> + +<p>He found a crowd of acquaintances in the +dining-room; the tables were set in one long row +and lavishly provided with bottles of wine, mostly +champagne, and the preparations seemed to +promise a drinking bout.</p> + +<p>"What is this?" asked Zapora. "Is someone +giving a dinner?"</p> + +<p>Among the acquaintances who greeted him was +a friend of young Adler's.</p> + +<p>"Just fancy," he said. "Adler is paying for +all the dinners to-day, and anyone who comes is +invited. I hope you will not refuse us the pleasure +of your company?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p> + +<p>Zapora looked at him from the corner of his eye.</p> + +<p>"I do refuse," he replied.</p> + +<p>The young man, who was not remarkable for +excessive tact, asked:</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because only old Adler would have the right +to ask me to a dinner paid for with his money, +and even if he did ask me I should refuse."</p> + +<p>Another of Ferdinand's friends joined in the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"What do you have to throw in the Adlers' +teeth?"</p> + +<p>"Not much; only that the father is a sweater +and the son a loafer, and that between the two +they do more harm than good."</p> + +<p>Public opinion seemed to be summed up in +these words from a man of personal courage. +Adler's friends were silent, the other guests +embarrassed, and the more sensitive took their +hats to leave the room. At that moment the +door was flung wide open and Ferdinand hurried +in, accompanied by one of his friends. He noticed +the judge at once, and not knowing what had +happened, asked his companion to introduce him.</p> + +<p>"Right you are!" said the friend, advancing +towards the judge.</p> + +<p>"What a lucky chance!" he exclaimed. "Adler +is just going to give a dinner here, and as you +have fallen into the trap, we will not let you go. +But you don't know one another?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a general silence in the room during +the introduction.</p> + +<p>"Pan Adler—Pan Zapora."</p> + +<p>Ferdinand held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I have long wished to make your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Delighted," said Zapora, without moving.</p> + +<p>Some of the guests smiled maliciously. Ferdinand +grew pale; for a moment he was confused. +But he pulled himself together at once and +changed his tactics.</p> + +<p>"I have wished to make your acquaintance," +he continued, "in order to thank you for the +correspondence about my father in the newspapers."</p> + +<p>Zapora fixed him with a severe look.</p> + +<p>"About your father?" he asked. "I have +written only one letter about your father, and +that was to the village mayor about the summons."</p> + +<p>Adler was boiling with rage.</p> + +<p>"It was myself, then, you wrote about in the +comic papers?"</p> + +<p>Zapora did not lose his calmness for an instant. +He only gripped his stick tighter, and said:</p> + +<p>"You are quite mistaken. I leave correspondence +in the comic papers to young men of no +occupation who wish to become notorious by any +means at their disposal."</p> + +<p>Adler lost his self-control.</p> + +<p>"You are insulting me!" he shouted.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I will not even retract my +last statement in order not to offend you."</p> + +<p>The excited young man was on the point of +throwing himself upon Zapora.</p> + +<p>"You shall give me satisfaction!" he panted.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure."</p> + +<p>"At once!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I must have my dinner first; I am +hungry," said Zapora coolly. "It does not take +me more than an hour; after that I shall be at +your disposal in my house."</p> + +<p>And nodding to his acquaintances, he slowly +left the room.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand's banquet was not a success. Many +of the guests left before dinner; others shammed +gaiety. But Ferdinand himself was in excellent +spirits. His first glass of wine soothed him; the +second gave his excitement a pleasant flavour. +He was delighted at the prospect of a duel, +especially of a duel with Zapora, and he had not +the slightest doubt of his success.</p> + +<p>"I shall give him a lesson in shooting," he +whispered to one of his seconds, "and that will +be the end of it."</p> + +<p>And he thought: "That will do more to put +my position right than any amount of dinners."</p> + +<p>The more experienced adventurers, of whom +there was no lack in the room, had to admit, +when they looked at him, that he had grit and +pluck of a certain kind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven!" said one of them, "our +newspapers will at last have something sensational +to talk about."</p> + +<p>"I am only sorry...." said another.</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"Those bottles that we may see no more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope we shall give them decent burial."</p> + +<p>"I hope we shan't have to do the same with +one of the principals."</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. What are the conditions?"</p> + +<p>"Pistols, and to fight till blood flows."</p> + +<p>"Damn it! Whose idea was that?"</p> + +<p>"Adler's."</p> + +<p>"Is he so sure of himself?"</p> + +<p>"He is an excellent shot."</p> + +<p>Towards the end of the dinner it became known +that Zapora had accepted the conditions, and that +the duel was to take place the next morning.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," said Adler, "I invite you all. +We will drink all night."</p> + +<p>"Is that wise?"</p> + +<p>"I always do it before a contre-dance. This is +my fourth," said Ferdinand.</p> + +<p>In another and more respectable restaurant, +Zapora's friends were also discussing what had +happened.</p> + +<p>"It is a shame," said one of them, "that a +respectable man like Zapora should have to fight +with such a senseless fool."</p> + +<p>"Zapora had no business to fall into the trap."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He fell into it by accident, but after that +there was no way out of it."</p> + +<p>"It is a strange thing," said an old nobleman, +"that such a good-for-nothing young fellow as +Adler should not only be admitted into society, +but also be at liberty to force a quarrel of this +kind upon a man like Zapora. Formerly that +sort of thing would have been impossible. It is +because public opinion is getting slack that +respectable men have to stake their lives. Nevertheless +I am sorry for Zapora."</p> + +<p>"Isn't he a good shot?"</p> + +<p>"Quite fair, but the other is more—he is a +real virtuoso."</p> + +<p>At about six o'clock Ferdinand retired to his +room in the hotel. He wanted a little rest +between his dinner-party and his night orgy; +but he could not sleep, and began pacing up and +down. Then he noticed that the windows opposite +were those of Zapora's office.</p> + +<p>The street was narrow; the office was on the +ground floor, and his own room on the first floor; +Ferdinand could therefore closely observe what +was going on. The judge was talking to his +clerk and to a barrister, and showing them some +papers. After some time the barrister took his +leave and the clerk went out of the room. The +judge was left alone.</p> + +<p>He placed the lamp on the writing-table, lighted +a cigar, and began to write on a large sheet of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +paper: first a long heading, then he continued +quickly and evenly. Adler felt sure that the +judge was writing his will.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand had already fought several duels, +considering them a kind of dangerous amusement. +But now he became conscious that a duel could +also be a very serious affair, for which one ought +to be properly prepared. But how?</p> + +<p>There was this man writing a will!</p> + +<p>He lay down on his sofa. While he was distinctly +conscious of all the noises going on in the +corridor, the remembrance of an incident in his +early boyhood, when the mill had not long been +started, came back vividly to him. He had +noticed a small door fastened with a nail in the +engine-room. This door used to interest and +alarm him. One day he took courage, pressed +the bent nail aside, and opened the door. He +looked into a small recess; there were a few copper +pipes, a coil of rope and a broom.</p> + +<p>The memory of this little adventure came +back to him whenever he was going to fight a +duel, usually at the moment when the seconds +had measured the distance and he saw the barrel +of his adversary's pistol pointed at him and felt +the trigger under his own finger. The mysterious +door of Destiny, which is sometimes opened by +a bullet, had so far not revealed anything remarkable +to him—merely a wounded adversary +or else a score of champagne bottles emptied with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +jolly companions. But what had these duels +amounted to? One shot on either side, for the +sake of a prima-donna, or a bet at the races, or +a jostle in the streets.</p> + +<p>To-morrow's affair was of a different kind. +Here was he, the son of an unpopular father, +coming forward to fight a man respected by +everybody, and as it were the representative of +an offended community. On the side of his +adversary were all those who had the courage to +stand up against Adler, all the workpeople and +most of the officials at the factory. And who was +on his side?</p> + +<p>Not his father, for he would not have allowed +him to fight; not the companions of his dissipations, +for they felt uncomfortable, and were only +waiting for an opportunity to desert him. Should +he wound Zapora, he would give his enemies fresh +cause for indignation; should he be wounded himself, +people would say it was a just punishment +on him and his father.</p> + +<p>What was the meaning of it all? He only +wanted to enjoy life along with everybody else. +He had been used to being treated with exquisite +manners by his companions; people had been +indulgent, timid with him. This man, who flung +impertinences in his face—where did he spring +from so suddenly? Why had there been no one +to warn him? Why should the follies of his youth +come to such a tragic end?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> + +<p>The mysterious door assumed a sinister aspect. +He had a presentiment that this time it would +not conceal pipes, ropes and a broom, but a +notice on a coffin, which he had once seen in an +undertaker's shop in Warsaw: "Lodgings for a +single person."</p> + +<p>"The undertaker must have been a wag," +Ferdinand thought.</p> + +<p>The hotel sofa was not remarkable for its +softness; when Ferdinand leant his head against +its arm, he was reminded of his midnight drives +home in his carriage. For a man in a sitting +posture that was extremely comfortable, but +when you lay down it was as uncomfortable as +this sofa. He had the sensation of driving home +in it—of the gentle jostling, the clatter of the +horses' hoofs: it is midnight; the moon, standing +high in the sky, lights up the road. The carriage +quivers and then stops.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" asks Ferdinand in his +dream.</p> + +<p>"Gosławski's arm has been torn off," answers +a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Is that the man with the pretty wife?"</p> + +<p>"How sharp he is!" says the same low voice.</p> + +<p>"Sharp? Who is sharp?" says Ferdinand to +himself, turning round on the sofa, away from +the scene. But the phantoms do not vanish; +he again sees the crowd of men round the stretcher, +and the wounded man, his arm in blood-soaked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +wrappings laid on his chest. He can even see +the foreshortening of the shadows on the road.</p> + +<p>"How the man suffers!" whispers Ferdinand. +"And he must die—must die!" He has the +sensation of being the man on the stretcher, +tortured with pain, his arm shattered, and of +seeing his own face in the cold, cruel moonlight.</p> + +<p>Whatever had happened? Champagne had +never had this effect on him before. Something +entirely new was overpowering, oppressing him—tearing +his heart—boring into his brain; he felt +as if he must shout, run away, hide somewhere.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand jumped up. Dusk was filling the +room.</p> + +<p>"What the devil! I seem to be afraid ... +afraid!... I?..."</p> + +<p>With difficulty he found the matches, scattered +them on the floor, picked one up, struck it—it +went out—struck another, and lighted the candle.</p> + +<p>He looked at himself in the glass; his face was +ashen, and there were dark circles round his eyes; +his pupils were much enlarged.</p> + +<p>"Am I afraid?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>The candle was trembling in his hand.</p> + +<p>"If the pistol is going to jump like that to-morrow, +I shall be in a nice mess!" he thought.</p> + +<p>He looked out of the window. There was +Zapora, still sitting at his desk on the ground +floor across the street, writing quietly and +evenly. The sight made Ferdinand shake off his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +nervousness. His vivacious temperament got the +better of the phantoms.</p> + +<p>"Go on writing, my dear, and I will put the +full-stop to it!"</p> + +<p>Steps approached in the corridor, and there +was a knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"Get up, Ferdinand, we are ready for the +bout!" called a familiar voice.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand was himself again. If he had had to +jump into a precipice bristling with bayonets, he +would not have flinched. When he opened the +door to his friend he greeted him with a hearty +laugh. He laughed at his momentary nervousness, +at the phantoms, at the question: "Am I afraid?"</p> + +<p>No, he was not afraid. He felt again the +strength of a lion and the reckless courage of +youth, which fears no danger and has no limits.</p> + +<p>The carouse went on till break of day. The +windows of the hotel shook with the laughter +and noise, and the cellars ran empty, so that +wine had to be fetched from elsewhere....</p> + +<p>At six o'clock four carriages left the town.<br /><br /></p> + + +<div class="center"><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> VII</div> + +<p>For several days heavy bales of cotton had been +pouring into the factory. Adler, expecting a rise +in the prices of raw material, had invested all his +available money in the buying up of large quantities. +Only part of it had so far been delivered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<p>His calculations had not deceived him; a few +days after the contract was signed the prices +rose, and they were still rising. Adler declined +the most advantageous offers for re-sale. He +rubbed his hands with pleasure. This was the +best stroke of business he had done for a long +time, and he foresaw that, long before all his raw +material had been made up, his capital would +have been trebled.</p> + +<p>"I shall have finished with the mill soon," he +said to himself.</p> + +<p>It was a strange thing—from the moment that +he saw the goal of his wishes definitely before him, +a hitherto unknown lassitude took possession of +him. He was tired of the mill, and vaguely longed +for other things. Sometimes he begged his son +not to go out so much, to stay at home and talk +to him of his travels. More and more often he +would slip over to Pastor Boehme for a talk.</p> + +<p>"I am tired out," he said to him. "Gosławski's +death and the riots in the factory stick in my +throat like bones. Do you know that sometimes +I even find myself envying your way of living. +But that's all nonsense; it shows I am getting old."</p> + +<p>And as Gosławski, on whose grave the earth +was still fresh, had counted the days, so the old +mill-owner now counted the months of his stay +at the mill.</p> + +<p>"By next July I ought to have made up all +the cotton. In June I must announce the sale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +of the mill; in August at the latest they must pay +up, for I don't give credit. In September I shall +be free. I won't say anything to Ferdinand +until the last moment. How pleased he will be! +Then I shall invest the money and live on the +interest; for the rascal would run through it in +a few years' time, and then I should have to go +and be foreman somewhere."</p> + +<p>His love for Ferdinand grew stronger and +stronger, and he excused his obvious neglect of +his father.</p> + +<p>"Why should I force the boy to work at the +mill, when I am sick of it myself? And why +should he care if I am longing for his company? +He must have young people to amuse himself +with; and my amusement is—work!"</p> + +<p>On the day following the fair the old mill-owner +was, as usual, making the round of all the +workshops and offices. Many of his employés had +been in the town, and there was much gossip +about the joke Ferdinand had played upon the +neighbourhood. It was said that he had bought +up all the dinners at the hotel, and that every +nobleman had to bow to him before he could +obtain anything to eat or to drink. At first +Adler laughed, but when he had reckoned up what +this joke was likely to cost him his face became +sullen.</p> + +<p>The vanloads of raw cotton were standing in +the courtyard, and were being unloaded by extra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +hands. Adler looked on for a while, and then +proceeded on his round of inspection, giving strict +orders that no one was to smoke anywhere. +When he turned into his office, he saw two women +talking excitedly to the porter; seeing Adler, they +ran away. But he paid no attention to them.</p> + +<p>A clerk, looking strangely unnerved, came +running out of the office; the book-keeper, the +cashier and his assistant, were talking together +in one corner of the room with obvious signs of +excitement. At the sight of their chief they +quickly returned to their desks, bending low over +their books. Even this roused no suspicion in +Adler. They had probably been at the fair and +were discussing scandal of some sort.</p> + +<p>In his private office Adler found himself face to +face with a stranger. The man was impatient +and restless. He was pacing quickly up and down +the room. When the mill-owner entered, he stood +still and asked, in an embarrassed tone:</p> + +<p>"Pan Adler?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; do you wish to see me?"</p> + +<p>For a while the man was silent. His mouth +twitched. The mill-owner looked at him searchingly, +trying to guess who he was and what he +wanted. He did not look like a candidate for a +post at the mill, but rather like a rich young +gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I have an important affair to discuss with +you," he said at last.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps you would rather speak to me at my +own house?" said Adler, realizing that with such +an excited person it might be better to talk out +of earshot of the clerks. He might have some +claim on him.</p> + +<p>The stranger hesitated for a moment, and then +spoke quickly:</p> + +<p>"All right; let us go to the house. I have been +there already."</p> + +<p>"Were you looking for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; because—you see, Pan Adler, we have +taken Ferdinand there."</p> + +<p>The thought of a calamity of any kind was so +far from Adler that he asked quite cheerfully:</p> + +<p>"Was Ferdinand so drunk that you had to +bring him home?"</p> + +<p>"He is wounded," replied the stranger.</p> + +<p>They were now in front of the house. Adler +stopped.</p> + +<p>"Who is wounded?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Ferdinand."</p> + +<p>The old man did not comprehend.</p> + +<p>"Has he broken his leg or his neck, or what +do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It is a bullet wound."</p> + +<p>"A bullet? How?"</p> + +<p>"He has had a duel."</p> + +<p>The mill-owner's red face now flushed the +colour of brick. He threw down his hat in the +portico and hurried through the open door. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +did not ask who had wounded his son. What +did that matter?</p> + +<p>He found the servants and another stranger in +the room. Pushing them aside, he stepped up +to where Ferdinand was lying on the couch. +The wounded man was without coat or waistcoat, +and his face was so dreadfully changed that at +first the father scarcely recognized his own son. +The doctor was sitting at the head of the couch. +Adler stared, and then fell upon a chair, leant +forward with his hands on his knees, and asked +in a stifled voice:</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing, you scamp?"</p> + +<p>Ferdinand gave him a look of indescribable +sadness; then he took his father's hand and kissed +it. He had not done this for a long time.</p> + +<p>Adler shuddered and was silent. Ferdinand +began to speak in a low voice and with pauses:</p> + +<p>"I had to ... father ... I had to. Everyone +spoke against us, the nobility, the newspapers, +even the waiters. They were saying that I was +squandering the money while you sweated the +workpeople. Before long they would have spat +in our faces."</p> + +<p>"Do not exert yourself," whispered the doctor.</p> + +<p>The old man listened with the greatest astonishment +and sorrow. His thick lips were parted.</p> + +<p>"Save me ... father...!" cried Ferdinand +with raised voice. "I have promised ten thousand +roubles to the doctor."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> + +<p>A cloud of displeasure flashed across Adler's +face. "Why so much?" he asked mechanically.</p> + +<p>"Because I am dying ... I feel I am dying."</p> + +<p>The old man started up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"You are mad!" he exclaimed. "You have +done a foolish thing, but you are not going to die!"</p> + +<p>"I am dying," the wounded man groaned.</p> + +<p>Adler, in utter bewilderment, pulled his fingers +till the joints cracked.</p> + +<p>"He is mad! Good Lord! he is out of his +mind! Tell him he is silly, doctor—he speaks of +dying.... As if we should allow him to die! +You have been promised ten thousand roubles: +that is not enough," feverishly continued the old +man. "I will give a hundred thousand for my +son, if there is the slightest danger. But mind +you, I am not going to pay if he is merely silly. +What is his condition?"</p> + +<p>"It is not exactly dangerous," replied the +doctor; "yet we must be careful."</p> + +<p>"Of course! Do you hear him, Ferdinand? +Now, don't bother yourself and me.... Johann! +Send a wire to Warsaw for all the best doctors. +Send to Vienna and Berlin—to Paris, if necessary. +Let the doctor give you the addresses of the most +famous men. I will pay ... I have enough +money...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I feel so terribly ill," Ferdinand groaned, +tossing about on the couch. His father hurried +to his side.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Compose yourself," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Father!" cried the dying man; "my father, +I cannot see you any more!"</p> + +<p>Blood appeared on his lips. His eyes were +dilated with despair.</p> + +<p>"Air!" he cried.</p> + +<p>He jumped up, and with hands outstretched like +a blind man he turned towards the window. +Suddenly his arms dropped; he staggered and fell +upon the couch, striking his head against the wall. +Once more he turned towards his father, and +opened his eyes with difficulty. Large tears stood +in them. Adler, utterly overcome and trembling +all over, sat down near him, and wiped the tears +from his eyes and the froth from his lips with his +large hands.</p> + +<p>"Ferdinand ... Ferdinand," he whispered, +"be quiet.... You shall live.... You shall +have all I possess."</p> + +<p>Suddenly he felt his son getting heavy on his +arms and dropping.</p> + +<p>"Doctor! Bring him round! He is fainting!"</p> + +<p>"Pan Adler, you had better go out of the +room," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Why should I go out of the room when my +son is in need of my help?"</p> + +<p>"He is no longer in need of it!"</p> + +<p>Adler looked at his son, gripped him tightly, +shook him. A large patch of blood had appeared +on the bandage which covered his chest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ferdinand was dead.</p> + +<p>Frenzy seized the old man. He jumped up +from the couch, kicked over the chair, knocked +against the doctor, and ran out into the courtyard +and from there into the road. On the road he +met one of the van-drivers bringing in the cotton. +He seized him by the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Do you know my son is dead?" he shouted.</p> + +<p>He flung the man on the ground and ran on to +the porter's lodge.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, there! Call up all the men! Let +them all come in front of my house!"</p> + +<p>He ran back to his dead son's room as fast as +he had run out of it, sat down, and looked and +looked at him in silence for half an hour. Then +he suddenly started up.</p> + +<p>"What does this silence mean?" he asked. +"Has the machinery broken down?"</p> + +<p>"You ordered all the hands to be called up, +sir," answered Johann, "so they stopped the +machinery, and are now waiting in the yard."</p> + +<p>"What for? There is no reason for them to +wait! Let them go back to work, and weave +and spin and make a noise...."</p> + +<p>He clasped his head with both hands.</p> + +<p>"My son!... My son!... My son!..."</p> + +<p>Someone had sent for the pastor, and he now +came hurrying into the room, weeping.</p> + +<p>"Gottlieb!" he cried, "God has greatly afflicted +you; but let us trust His mercy."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> + +<p>Adler gave him a lingering glance, then pointed +to his son's dead body and said:</p> + +<p>"Look, Martin! that is myself; it is not his +corpse, it is my own. There lies my factory, my +fortune, my hope. But no! ... he is alive!... +Tell me that, and I shall be calm. How my heart +aches!..."</p> + +<p>The pastor led him away into the garden, +the doctor and the seconds left, the servants +dispersed.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what is the worst of it?" continued +Adler. "In a year's time, or perhaps +sooner, the doctors will discover a way of curing +such wounds; but what will be the good of that +to me? I would have given everything now for +such a discovery."</p> + +<p>The pastor took his hand.</p> + +<p>"Gottlieb, how long is it since you have +prayed?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know ... thirty—forty years."</p> + +<p>"Do you remember your prayers?"</p> + +<p>"I remember that I had a son."</p> + +<p>"Your son is with the Lord."</p> + +<p>Adler's head dropped.</p> + +<p>"How greedy he is, this Lord!"</p> + +<p>"Do not blaspheme. The time will come when +you will meet Him."</p> + +<p>"When?"</p> + +<p>"When your hour strikes."</p> + +<p>The old man looked thoughtful. Then he took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +his watch from his pocket, wound it up, listened +to the ticking and said:</p> + +<p>"My hour has struck already.... Now you +go home, Martin; your wife and daughter and +your church are waiting for you. Go and enjoy +yourself, look after your services, drink your hock, +and leave me alone. I am waiting for the collapse +of the whole world, and I shall perish with it. I +have no need of friends, and still less of a pastor. +Your frightened face bores me."</p> + +<p>"Gottlieb, be calm! Pray!"</p> + +<p>"Go to the devil!"</p> + +<p>Adler jumped up, slipped through the garden +gate and ran into the fields. The pastor did not +know what to do. He returned to the villa, +feeling that Adler ought to be watched; but the +servants were afraid of their master. He sent for +the old book-keeper, and told him he feared the +mill-owner had gone out of his mind and run +away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that doesn't mean anything," said the +book-keeper; "he will tire himself out and come +back in a better frame of mind. He often does +that when he is upset."</p> + +<p>The hours passed and evening came, but the +old cotton-spinner did not appear. Never had +there been anything like the present excitement +in the factory. Gosławski's death had shaken +them, brought home to them the wrongs they +were suffering, and set them against their merciless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +employer. But now their feelings were of a +different kind.</p> + +<p>The first impression that Ferdinand's sudden +death made upon the mill hands was dismay and +fright. They felt as if a thunderbolt had struck +the factory and it were trembling in its foundations, +as if the sun had stood still in the sky. +Ferdinand dead? He—so young and strong, a +man who had never had to work, never attended +to a machine—the son of their almighty employer? +Quicker than a miserable workman like +Gosławski, he had perished, shot like a hare! To +these poor, simple, dependent people Adler was +a severe deity, and more powerful than the State. +They were seized with fear. It seemed to them +that this small landowner and country judge, +Zapora, had committed a sacrilege in shooting +Ferdinand. How dared he shoot him, before +whom even the boldest of them had to give way?</p> + +<p>And a strange thing happened. These same +people who had daily cursed the mill-owner and +his son now cursed his destroyer. Some of them +shouted that this fiend ought to be shot like a +dog. But had the "fiend" suddenly appeared in +their midst, they would certainly have run away.</p> + +<p>As the discussions went on, some of the foremen +explained that Zapora had not murdered Ferdinand, +but that there had been a fight, and Ferdinand +had been the first to shoot. It even transpired +that the cause had been a quarrel about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +the workpeople—that Ferdinand had been killed +because he spent the money which had been got +by wronging the people. God had punished +Adler; their curses had been heard.</p> + +<p>Thus within a few hours a legend was formed +round the incident. The voice of human blood +had gone up to the throne of the Almighty, and +a miracle had been worked. They were filled +with awe.</p> + +<p>What would happen now? Would their employer +cease to wrong them? Someone suggested +that the machinery should be stopped under these +unusual circumstances, but the old book-keeper fell +upon him. Stop the machinery and irritate the +boss even more, when he is not quite in his right +mind? He himself had felt quite odd when the +machinery had been stopped before, and they had +all gone up to the house. When there is the +clatter it makes one feel easier, and one thinks +nothing has happened.</p> + +<p>The others agreed.</p> + +<p>In the evening Adler returned, and entered the +office like a ghost. Nobody knew when he had +come. He was covered with mud, as if he had +been rolling on the ground. His eyes were bloodshot, +and his short flaxen hair stood on end: he +was gasping for breath. Hurriedly he ran through +the offices, snapping his fingers. The frightened +clerks pretended to go on with their work. A +young man was reading a wire. Adler went up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +to him, and asked in a quiet though changed +voice:</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"Cotton is still going up," the clerk replied. +"To-day we have made six thousand——"</p> + +<p>He did not finish. Adler had torn the message +from his hands and thrown it in his face.</p> + +<p>"You low vermin!" he shouted. "How dare +you tell me such a thing! The very dogs run +away from my grief with their tails between their +legs, and you talk to me of six thousand roubles!... +Can you bring back a day—even half a +day—to me?"</p> + +<p>Boehme came running into the office.</p> + +<p>"Gottlieb," he cried, "the carriage is waiting; +come to my house with me."</p> + +<p>The mill-owner drew himself up to his full +height and put both his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are there, St. Martin!" he said +ironically. "No, I will not go with you to your +house! I will say even more. Not a single +farthing shall I leave to you or your Józio! Do +you hear? I dare say you are a servant of the +Lord, and His wisdom speaks through your +tongue, but not a farthing will you get from me. +My fortune belongs to my son."</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, Gottlieb?" the +pastor said, shocked.</p> + +<p>"I am talking plainly. This is a plot to put +your son in here to order the factory people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +about.... You have killed my son, and you +would like to kill me; but I am not one of those +fools who want to spend their money on the +salvation of their souls...."</p> + +<p>"Gottlieb, you suspect me—<i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>Adler seized his hands and looked into his eyes +with hatred.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, Boehme, that you threatened +me with God's punishment? Formerly the +Jesuits used to do the same to trick people's +fortune out of them. But I was too clever!... +I would not be tricked; therefore God has punished +me. It is not long ago since you threw corks +and sticks on the water, and said the wave would +return. But my poor son will not return."</p> + +<p>Adler had never been so eloquent as at the +moment when his reason was leaving him. He +seized the pastor by the shoulders and pushed +him out of the door. Restlessly he began to walk +up and down again, and at last left the office. +The gloom of dusk swallowed him up, and the +noise of the machinery drowned his footfalls.</p> + +<p>The clerks were panic-stricken. No one thought +of watching him—they had all lost their heads. +They knew how to attend mechanically to their +duties, but no one would have dared to take any +responsibility.</p> + +<p>Pastor Boehme dared not give orders either. +To whom should he have given them? Who +would have listened to him?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> + +<p>Events meanwhile took their course. One of +the workmen noticed that the small door leading +to the cotton warehouse was open. Before he +could give notice to the foreman, it had been shut +again. The workpeople whispered to one another +about thieves and Ferdinand's repentant ghost. +But the clerks rushed to the office to see what had +become of the master-key, and found it gone.</p> + +<p>No doubt Adler himself had taken it. But +where was he? The porter had seen him pass +through the gateway, but had not noticed him +go out again, though he said he had been watching +closely for him. Who would undertake to find +him in the huge building?</p> + +<p>This time the old book-keeper guessed the +danger which threatened the factory. He called +up the foremen, ordered that watchmen should +be set outside the main doors, that the engines +should be stopped and the hands withdrawn +from the workshop. But before these orders +could be carried out the sound of the alarm bell +was heard from the warehouses. Smoke and +flames were issuing from the openings. The hands, +already demoralized, were seized with panic and +left the workrooms in a crowd. So precipitate +was their flight that they forgot to turn out the +lights, left all the doors open, and did not stop +the engines. But they had only just saved themselves +when the fire began to break out in the +warehouses containing the manufactured goods.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What is this? Someone is setting fire to the +mill!" they cried.</p> + +<p>"It is the boss himself! He is setting fire +to it!"</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows."</p> + +<p>The fire was breaking out in the spinning and +weaving departments.</p> + +<p>"Surely it is Adler himself who is setting the +mill alight!"</p> + +<p>"Why should we save it, when he is destroying +it?"</p> + +<p>"Who tells you to save it?"</p> + +<p>"But what are we going to eat to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>The shouts of men and the weeping of women +and children rose from the dense crowd of hundreds +of human beings, powerless in the face of this +calamity. Rescue was, indeed, impossible. The +people looked on stupefied while the fire spread +rapidly.</p> + +<p>The gloomy background of a dark autumn +night threw into relief the burning buildings, +lit by fierce, red flames, which burst from all +the openings like torches and played over the +crowd gathered in the courtyard below. Of the +main building in the shape of a horseshoe, the +left wing was on fire in the fourth story, and the +right on the ground floor. The workrooms in the +middle part of the building were brightly lighted +by gas-lamps, so that the power-looms could be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +seen moving quickly to and fro. The walls of the +warehouses had almost disappeared behind a thick +veil of smoke and flames. Now the roof of the +left wing was ablaze; on the right the fire had +reached the first floor, and the flames were bursting +from the windows. A continuous murmur, +scarcely human, rose from the crowd below.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it stopped. All eyes were turned +towards the middle building, which was still +untouched. On the second floor the shadow of +a man was moving backwards and forwards +among the looms. Wherever it stopped the room +became lighter. The yarn, the wooden frames of +the looms, the floors soaked with grease, caught +fire with incredible rapidity. Within a few +minutes the second floor was alight, and the +shadow moved to the third floor, disappeared, +and was seen again on the fourth.</p> + +<p>"Look! It is he!" A shout burst from the +terrified crowd.</p> + +<p>Window-panes were blown out, and the glass +fell clinking on to the pavement; floors collapsed +under the heavy machinery. In the midst of the +hellish noise, the rain of sparks and the clouds of +smoke, the shadow of the man on the fourth floor +was moving about like an inspector watching +workmen. Sometimes it stopped at one of the +many windows, and seemed to look out towards the +house and the people.</p> + +<p>The roof of the left wing broke down with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> +terrific crash. Sheaves of sparks rose to the sky. +Two stories of the cotton warehouse fell in. The +air became unbearably hot. Some of the machines +began to move with a grinding noise, and finally +rolled over. The big wheel of the power-engine, +encountering no more resistance, turned with a +crazy rapidity, uttering a weird kind of howl. +Walls collapsed; the chimney fell, and bits of +masonry rolled towards the receding crowd.</p> + +<p>From the direction of the gasometer came the +dull sound of an explosion. The gas went out; the +middle part of the building was fully ablaze; the +fire reigned supreme.</p> + +<p>Prosperous and full of life an hour ago, the mill +was now a raging furnace, in which its owner +sought and found his grave....</p> + +<p>The wave had returned....<br /><br /></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, ENGLAND<br /><br /><br /><br /></h4> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Primeval forest.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Vodka could only be procured at the stores belonging +to the mine-owners, and was dealt out in limited quantities. +On this account there was a flourishing contraband trade. +A gallon of even inferior quality was sold for a hundred +roubles. A strong, sober miner, able to forgo his vodka +and sell it, could make a good sum in this way.—<i>Author's +note.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Brodiaga—a criminal deported to Siberia, who has +escaped from prison, or who, not having been sentenced to +imprisonment, cannot find work, and has become a vagrant +or bandit.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The Poles deported to Siberia from Poland in the +eighteenth century.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> "Juntas"—boots without heels, with soft soles and +wide legs.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> The Polish Revolution of 1863.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The greeting commonly used by the peasants.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> <i>I.e.</i>, about the Revolutionists' plans. Maciej is accused +of being a spy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> "Sorokowiki"—58 degrees below zero.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Alluding to the universal custom in Poland at the Christmas +Eve dinner. The host hands round a wafer—which has +been blessed by the priest—and breaks it with the guests, +and they with another, good wishes being exchanged meanwhile. +It is also sent with good wishes to friends at a distance.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> "Get thee behind me, Satan!" In Yakut the accent +falls on the last syllable.—<i>Author's note.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> "Pępki"—from Russian "pupki," the salted roes of +a large fish caught in the Lena.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The Polish custom is to spread hay under the tablecloth +at the Christmas Eve dinner—an allusion to the hay in the +manger.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> "Oładi"—a favourite Yakut dish. It is a kind of pancake, +made with reindeer fat, and eaten with reindeer milk +which is frozen into lumps.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Country dances interspersed with songs.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> A well-known Cracowiak.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> "God, great God, have mercy!"</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> The greeting usual among peasants.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> The colloquial name for policeman.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> The Uniats are forbidden by the Russian Government +to be baptized, married, etc., by their own or Roman Catholic +priests.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Children are only allowed to attend specially licensed +schools—one of the measures taken by the Russian Government +to prevent Polish subjects from being taught.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> It is considered a special privilege to walk on either side +of the priest and support his arms in the procession.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Answers more or less to the old-fashioned term "beadle."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> "Eagle."</p></div> + +</div> +<hr style="width: 90%;" /> + +<div class="tnote"><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Fixed all missing/incorrect punctuation.<br /> +Unusual spellings and hyphenations in original preserved.<br /> +Obvious typos corrected.<br /> + P. viii dittos changed to "English" or "French"<br /> + P. 69, "thoroughtly" to "thoroughly" (at last he thoroughly)<br /> + P. 83, "wihch" to "which" (but to which the whole nation)</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of More Tales by Polish Authors, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE TALES BY POLISH AUTHORS *** + +***** This file should be named 35457-h.htm or 35457-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/4/5/35457/ + +Produced by David Clarke, JoAnn Greenwood and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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