The Peasants

“Praised be Jesus Christ!”

“World without end!⁠—What, my good Agatha? And whither be you wandering now?”

“Out into the world, please your Reverence, into the wide world!” she answered, with a wave of her staff from east to west.

The priest mechanically turned his eyes in that direction, but closed them to the blinding sun in the western sky. Then he said, in a lower and somewhat hesitating tone:

“Have the Klembas turned you out? Or is it only a little bickering between you?”

She drew herself up a little and, before answering, cast her eyes around her upon the bare autumnal fields and the village roofs surrounded by fruit-gardens.

“No, they have not turned me out: how could they? They are good folk and my close kin. And as for bickering, there was none. I myself saw that I had better leave; that’s all. ‘Better to leap into the deep than cumber another man’s wagon.’⁠ ⁠… So I had to go; there was no work for me. Winter is coming, but what of that? Are they to give me food and a corner to sleep in while I do nothing to earn it? Besides, they have just weaned their calf, and the goslings must be sheltered under their roof at night, for it is getting cold. I have to make room. Why, beasts are God’s creatures, too.⁠ ⁠… But they are kind folk; they keep me in summertime at least, and do not begrudge me a corner of their house and a morsel of their food.⁠ ⁠… And in winter I go out into the wide world, asking alms.⁠ ⁠… I need but little, and that little good people give me. With the help of the Lord Jesus, I shall pull through till spring, and put something by into the bargain.

A good many people had gathered by this time in Boryna’s yard, which, surrounded on three sides by farm buildings, was separated from the road by an orchard on the fourth. Several women were offering advice and eyeing with amazement the very large red-and-white cow that lay wallowing on a heap of manure just before the byre.

An old dog, somewhat lame and with hairless patches along its sides, was now sniffing at her and barking, now running to the fence and driving back into the road such boys and girls as had climbed up and were gazing curiously into the yard, and now approaching a sow that lay near the hut, suckling four white little pigs and gently grunting.

Hanka ran straight to the cow on arriving, and at once began to stroke her face and head.

“Poor, poor dear Red-and-White!” she cried, with copious tears and many lamentations.

From time to time the women would recommend her a new remedy for the sick animal. Now they would pour brine down its throat, now milk into which wax from a consecrated taper had been dropped. One advised soap dissolved in whey, and another suggested bleeding. But the cow did not benefit from any of these nostrums. At times she would lift up her head, and, as though imploring for help, low till her beautiful large eyes, with pink-tinged whites, grew dim and misty.

Such thoughts were filling his mind, as he went forth into the marketplace: but just as he passed the capmakers’ stalls, he met with Yagna.

There she stood, with one dark-blue cap on her head, cheapening another.

“See here, Matthias! this ‘yellow one’ would have me believe this is a good cap: but no doubt he is lying.”

“A very nice cap. Is’t for Andrew?”

“It is: Simon’s is already bought.”

“Will it not be too small for him?”

“His head is just the size of mine.”

“What a well-favoured stable-boy you would make!”

“Ah! shouldn’t I?” she exclaimed, with a jaunty air, and cocking her cap on one side.

“I’d take you to my service directly!”

“Only my terms might prove much too high.” She laughed.

“For some, perhaps; not for me.”

“But I’d do no work in the fields.”

“Oh, I would do the work for you, Yagna!” he whispered, and the look he darted at her was so passionate that she shrank back in confusion, and paid for the cap without bargaining.

It was a hard ascent, the ground being both steep and slippery.

“The cart is too full for one horse!” exclaimed a voice on the embankment.

“Is that you, Antek?”

“Surely.”

“Then be quick; Hanka is expecting you.⁠—But give us a helping hand now.”

“Wait awhile: I must get down first.⁠—It is so dark that you can’t see anything.”

They were up the embankment in no time, for the helping hand had pushed so powerfully that the horse scrambled up at once, and only came to a halt at the top.

“Thanks most heartily,” she said; “but, good God! you are strong!”

And she stretched out her hand to shake his.

They were mute. The cart went on before them, while they walked on, side by side, unable to find words, and both of them strangely agitated.

“Are you going back?” she asked in a low whisper.

“I shall only go with you as far as the mill, Yagna; the water has made a nasty hole there.”

“Very dark, isn’t it?” she said.

“Are you afraid, Yagna?” he murmured, drawing closer.

“Why should I be?”

They were mute again, walking on shoulder to shoulder, side touching side.

“How bright your eyes shine!⁠ ⁠… Like a wolf’s.”

“Will you come to the Klembas’ on Sunday for the music?”

“Will Mother allow me?”

“Do come, Yagna, do come!” he entreated her, in a strangled husky voice.

“Is it your wish?” she asked him softly, looking into his eyes.

Antek came yet a little nearer, leaned his shoulder against her hip (and a hot flush surged over her, and she was nigh to swooning); and as she knelt again, he flung these words⁠—words that might have been brands of fire⁠—into her ear:

“Yagna! Yagna!”

She shook, and almost fell fainting; his voice pierced her through and through with keen rapture⁠—with a sharp-edged delight.

“Come out some evening⁠ ⁠… come out⁠ ⁠… behind the haystack.⁠ ⁠… I shall be waiting there every night.⁠ ⁠… Fear not.⁠ ⁠… I must speak to you.⁠ ⁠… ’Tis urgent.⁠—Come.” This he said in an impassioned whisper, very close to her⁠—so close that his breath was like a flame upon her face.

She replied nothing: the words stuck in her throat. Her heart was palpitating so violently that she thought everyone near her must have heard it. But she made a gesture as if she would go that very instant where he wished, where her love was urging her⁠ ⁠… behind the haystack.

The church was resounding with the joyful thunder of the carols, when she came a little to her senses, and looked round at the people and the sanctuary.

Antek was there no more. He had withdrawn unnoticed, and was slowly walking out into the churchyard.

There he stood in the frost a long time, beneath the belfry, that he might cool down a little and breathe some fresh air.