Absolution Part 24

"Oh, I didn't mean that"--she turned crimson--"oh, no." She held out her hand artlessly. "Please don't be angry with me. Mother has told me that you've some money and that you really need not work here. I know it very well."

"I like working here," he said quickly. "I like it very much"--he hesitated for a moment and cast a [Pg 205] quick glance at the delicate face that was half averted--"very much indeed."

"That's very nice of you," she said innocently, looking at him with a friendly smile.

He cast a complacent glance at her; how blooming she looked now, much more so than when he came. She would soon be old enough to get married.

Many a wooer would come forward; her curly hair that shone like gold was very conspicuous among all the smooth, dark-haired women of the country. She would also have a good dowry; Mr. Tiralla had hinted at that pretty broadly. And Mikolai was a good fellow and an affectionate brother; he would be pleased to let his sister have her portion. And she would be a patient, good wife. Martin felt as though he ought to make hay while the sun was s.h.i.+ning.

"I'll stop now," he said, suddenly making up his mind, and throwing the last seeds he had in his bag at random; he put on his coat, which he had hung over the plough. "Shall we go for a little walk, Miss Tiralla?"

Yes, Rosa would like that very much. Had he ever been in the Przykop?

Perhaps there would be some violets there now. But he must not say "Miss," she was not grown up, her mother had said that repeatedly, she was only a child.

"Well, then, Rosa--Roschen, let's go." He held out his hand and she put hers into it, and thus they strolled into the Przykop. There was not a shoot to be seen yet on the alders or willows, or on the few oaks that were scattered about, but the old pines were as green as ever and smelt fresh and alive. The woodp.e.c.k.e.r was hammering at their bark, and the wood-pigeons were cooing up in their big branches that shone so red.

[Pg 206]

Everything was very quiet in the hollow, and the air was so mild that you could have sat down. Martin felt a wish to do so, but the girl began to look about busily for the bushes in whose red sprigs the sap was already coursing, and to turn the big heaps of brown leaves over with her hands and feet. Would she not be able to find the first violet under one of them? Oh, now she had found one! She shouted with joy.

Who would have thought that this gentle girl could be so jubilant? The young fellow was delighted to hear her, and stood quite still and smiled down on her as she with nimble fingers stuck a violet and a leaf into the top b.u.t.ton-hole of his coat. He very nearly gave her a kiss--n.o.body was looking on, and her s.h.i.+ning parting was so near his mouth.

"The stars are twinkling, the night is cold, Open the window for thy lover bold."

he began to sing.

"I don't know that song," she said innocently.

He felt ashamed of continuing it. It was a song that the soldiers used to sing, and also the couples as they walked through the corn in the evenings, but it was not suitable for her ear.

Then they strolled about hand-in-hand. How beautiful everything was.

The man had never been accustomed to forest and shade, and the big trees in the Przykop inspired him with awe and reverence. He would never venture to take any liberties here; besides, it would be very wrong of him if he were to disturb this child's innocent mind.

He walked beside the girl as though he had been her brother. "Why are you so silent?" she asked. "Tell me something, but please no stories like those Marianna tells me, something nice. Do you always [Pg 207] go to Ma.s.s as frequently as you do here? Shall you go to confession when I go? Is there a nice church at Opalenitza? Have you also a Holy Virgin on the altar who performs as many miracles as ours does?"

Then he spoke to her of his mother. She had been a happy woman, for she had had a good husband. And she had had many children, and they were good and honest, and happy too. Two daughters were married, the eldest son had the farm at Opalenitza, the second was an engineer in the Rhine province, the third had re-enlisted with the cha.s.seurs in Liegnitz, and he, the miller, was the fourth and youngest. If everything went well, and he got a wife who had enough money, with the sum he had, to buy a good mill, then he, the youngest, would be the happiest of them all.

"If only my mother had lived to see it," he said softly, looking at the girl. And then he went on to speak of his parents, who had always been so united, who had almost died together--his father six years ago and his mother only a few months later--and there was so much love in his voice that Rosa began to cry. He did not understand her tears. Why was she crying? He put his arm tenderly round her shoulders and drew her towards him in the quiet Przykop. "Why are you crying, Roschen, my little girl?"

She said nothing, but continued to cry bitterly. Oh, how happy they had been. Husband and wife always united; many children; and almost dying together. She s.h.i.+vered; that must be even more glorious than in Paradise. She clung to him more closely in her longing and sadness.

It was late when they came out of the hollow. A grey, rising mist covered the ploughed field as they [Pg 208] crossed it hand-in-hand.

They did not let go of each other until they pa.s.sed through the gateway leading into Starydwor.

Now they were back at the farm again. Marianna was singing as she rattled the pots and pans, Mikolai stood laughing by the kitchen fire, but Rosa's face continued to wear a dreamy, radiant expression.

Although she was always such an obedient, conscientious child, it did not affect her in the slightest when her brother shouted to her from the kitchen, "Your mother has been looking for you for such a long time; she's very cross. Where have you been?" She did not notice her mother's eyes resting on her with a piercing expression; she did not feel the oppressive silence that reigned at supper that evening.

Mrs. Tiralla kept an obstinate silence; she seemed so low-spirited that the men involuntarily became low-spirited, too--that is, Mr. Tiralla and Mikolai. Becker's eyes were fixed on his plate; he was quiet and happy, and ate with a good appet.i.te. What did he care if the woman was in a bad humour? Let the old man and Mikolai dance to her piping, he would not. And then the thought came to him that a girl like Rosa would never want to order about, and that a man would fare well with a wife like her: always united, and many children, and, and--he did not get any further. He felt a glance resting on him that weighed him down, so that he could no longer think of all those pleasant things.

Mrs. Tiralla kept her eyes fixed on the young man; her brows were contracted, her lips pouting. She felt so scornful, so angry. So he preferred that chit to her! But then her scorn melted and a world of love, grief, longing, and even humility lay in her glance. If only he would look at her, only for one [Pg 209] short moment. Ah, now he was looking up--her glance had drawn him--he had to look at her, was obliged to.

At that moment, when she was glowing with happiness, she became a most dangerous temptress. A seductive smile parted her lips, her eyes shone in radiant splendour. She had never been so beautiful, never so amiable.

Even Mr. Tiralla profited by her radiant smiles; he simply basked in them. She was looking at him so kindly; ah, there was not another woman who could be compared with his Sophia. Her smile intoxicated him. What did it matter that she had often been very horrid to him? Pooh! that was all forgotten now, it was some nonsense that he must have dreamt.

She had certainly been very strange at times--h'm, very strange, but to-day she was an angel. He even forgot to drink when he looked at her.

He kissed the tips of his fingers, threw her the kiss, and stared at her with watery eyes.

Martin Becker gazed at her too, as though there were something quite new about her. He had never known that she was so beautiful; by Jove, there was n.o.body like her. The girl certainly resembled her very little. No wonder that everybody ran after her, as Mr. Tiralla had told him the first day they met; he could easily believe it. He stroked his dark moustache and looked her full in the face with his fine eyes. Then she smiled still more seductively, and he smiled at her again. He liked her very much.

As they said good night to each other her hand nestled in his; he felt its warm softness, and pressed it more firmly than he had ever done before. How thin Rosa's little hands were compared with hers.

[Pg 210]

Mrs. Tiralla was standing in her room upstairs in front of the looking-gla.s.s, undressing. She was doing it very slowly; she felt the whole time as though she must go downstairs once more and walk down the long pa.s.sage past the young men's door. Was he already asleep?

Mikolai and Becker had gone early to bed, as they had to rise with the lark next morning and go to their work. Rosa had likewise gone to her room after supper. But Mrs. Tiralla had talked some time to Marianna in the kitchen, whilst her husband remained sitting at the table with his head resting in his hands, dozing. He had made no attempt to keep his wife when she left the room.

Did he know by now that he was repugnant to her? Mrs. Tiralla almost thought he did; he often looked askance at her now, whilst his purple lip would droop sullenly. She was glad to think it; good, let him know it; it had taken her long enough to make him understand that she hated and despised him too. Thanks be to G.o.d and all His saints, praise be to them a thousand times, Mr. Tiralla had left her in peace for months, from the day his son had returned home, the day she had failed in her attempt with the poisonous corn. The saints had not permitted it at the time, and it was a good thing, for since he had taken such a liking to the bottle, she had got rid of him in that way. She had had nothing to confess to Father Szypulski.

"Thanks be to the holy saints." The woman devoutly made the sign of the cross as she stood before the gla.s.s. Then she thrust her hands through her hair and pulled her long, thick tresses down, so that they hung around her like a smooth, silky mantle. She shook them and drew a deep breath. How heavy, oppressive, and disquieting the room felt.

[Pg 211]

She went to the window, opened it with an impatient movement, and leant out as far as she could. It was like spring outside. The night was dark and mild, there was a smell of the earth in the air and the stars were twinkling. Just over the farm there was such a golden light, that she could see a couple walking up and down near the pond with their arms thrown round each other.

It was Marianna. But with whom? The man was tall, taller than Mikolai.

A deadly fear overpowered her; she would not stand that, she had better run downstairs. But it was not Becker, he had not that clumsy, rolling gait, he was much more erect. But even if it were not he, how she envied the girl down there.

She pressed both hands to her face; she would not look at them, she would not listen to their whispers. But a s.h.i.+ver ran through her similar to what she had only felt once before in her life, and of which she now no longer knew if it had been sweet or terrible. She felt as she had done that time in the quiet room in early, long-gone-by days, when she had lain on her knees before her best friend and had implored, demanded his help. In those days that s.h.i.+ver full of presage and bliss had almost bereft her of her senses; she could have shouted with joy and still have died of weeping. Now, so long afterwards, she once more felt the same kind of s.h.i.+ver.

She turned away. She staggered from the window to the gla.s.s as though she were about to faint, and stared into it with half-closed, swimming eyes. The balmy air blew in through the open window and fanned her bare shoulders, neck, and arms. It felt like a soft hand, and she held her breath as it caressed her. She kept her eyes fixed on the gla.s.s; was she [Pg 212] not too old, was she really young enough? Oh, yes. She had to laugh. A voice within her seemed to say, "You still look like a girl and you are still like a girl." And when she came to think of it, was she Mr. Tiralla's wife in the eyes of G.o.d? No. He had forced her, but she was not his wife in spite of that. G.o.d alone makes husband and wife.

If only he would come now, if only he were here. "Holy Mary, all ye angels and archangels, ye fourteen helpers in need, lend me your aid."

The woman stretched out her arms as though she were intoxicated.

Suddenly she thought she heard somebody coming cautiously upstairs. The floor outside her room creaked.

She rushed to the door and unbolted it with a jubilant cry like one who has been saved. There stood Mr. Tiralla.

The night grew dark, the stars hid themselves behind clouds, as though they were afraid of looking down on Starydwor. The balmy wind, which seemed to carry spring on its wings, had brought rain. All at once there came a heavy shower, which turned into a slow drizzle as soon as the warm air had grown cool, and which continued until the misty, grey dawn broke.

The young men b.u.t.toned up their coats before starting for the fields.

What a change in the weather! They felt chilled to the bone. Somebody might at least have made them a cup of hot coffee. But n.o.body appeared, and there came no answer to their soft call of "Heigh, Marianna, heigh!" The whole house was as silent as death; it was as though all life were extinct. There was nothing for it; Mikolai had to make the fire and boil the coffee himself, or they would [Pg 213] have to leave the house on that wet, sullen-looking morning without something warm to drink.