The Pobratim Part 41

How often the letter we have been so anxiously expecting only comes to disappoint us, making us feel our sorrow more deeply.

As soon as the post-office was opened, the _pobratim_ hurried there to ask for letters. They both received several from their parents.

Uros read, with a sinking heart, what we already know, that Radonic had killed Vranic, and that Milena was dangerously ill. Milenko received a letter in a handwriting new to him. With a trembling hand he tore open the envelope, unfolded the sheet of pale blue Bath paper, containing an ounce of gold dust in it, and read the following lines:--

"Honoured Sir,--I take up my pen to keep the promise I so imprudently made of writing to you, but this, which is the first, must also be the last letter I ever pen.

"Perhaps you will be angry with me, and think me inconstant, but alas! this is not the case. Henceforth, I must never think of you, or at least, only as a friend. It is not fated that we be man and wife, and, as marriages are made in heaven, we must submit to what has been decreed.

"You must not think me heartless if I write to you in this way, but the fact is, my father had--even before my birth--promised me in marriage to the son of one of his friends, and this young man happens to be your own friend and brother Uros. My only hope now is, that he, as you hinted, being in love with someone else, will not insist upon marrying me, or else I shall be the most wretched woman that ever lived in this world.

"My father, who is delighted with the marriage, for he has always mistaken you for Uros, has already written to his old friend Bellacic to remind him of his plighted word. Perhaps your friend will get his father to write to mine, and explain the real state of things to him; if not, I shall dearly regret the day you saved me from certain death.

"But why do I write all this to you. Perhaps, as the saying is: 'Far from the eyes, far from the heart.' You have already forgotten the wretched girl who owes her life to you, and must therefore love, cherish, and ever be your most obedient servant, "IVANKA."

As poor Milenko read this letter, his cheeks grew pale, his heart seemed to stop, he almost gasped for breath. He looked around; the sky seemed to have grown dark, the world dreary, life a burden. Could it be possible that, when the cup of happiness had touched his lips, it would be s.n.a.t.c.hed away from him and dashed down?

The letter which he had read seemed to have muddled his brain. Was it possible that the girl he loved so dearly was to marry his friend, who did not care about her? and if she loved him, would she yield tamely to her father's wish? Alas! what proper girl ever rebelled against her father's decree?

Milenko felt as if a hand of steel had been thrust within his breast, gripped his heart and crushed it.

All at once he was seized by a dreadful doubt. Did Uros know nothing about all this, or was he conniving with his father to rob him of his bride? He looked up at his friend, who was reading the letters he had just received. The tidings they contained must have been far worse than his own, for Uros' face was the very picture of despair.

"What is the matter?" said Milenko; "bad news from home?"

For all answer Uros handed the letter he had just been reading to his friend; it was as follows:--

"My dear Son,--The present lines are to inform you that we are both well, your mother and myself, though, indeed, I have been suffering with rheumatic pains in my right shoulder and in my left leg, as well as occasional cramps in my stomach, for which the barber has cupped me several times. As for your mother, she always suffers with sore eyes, and though she tries to cure herself with vine-water and the dew which the flowers distil on St. John's Eve, which is a specific, as you know, still, it has not afforded her great relief. She is also often ailing with a pain in her side; but these are only trifles.

Therefore, I hope that this letter will find you, Milenko and the captain in as good health as that which we at present enjoy, and that you have had a good and prosperous voyage. Here, at Budua, things are always about the same. The weather has. .h.i.therto been very favourable to the crops, and, with G.o.d's help, we must hope for a good harvest, though the wind having blown down almost all the blossoms of the almond-trees, there will be but little fruit. As for the vines, little can be said as yet; whilst having had a good crop of olives last year, we cannot expect much this autumn.

"Our town is always very quiet. A fire only broke out here not long ago, and it burnt down a few houses. As it was believed to have been caused on account of a _karvarina_, bloodshed, as usual, ensued.

Another fact, which somewhat upset our town, was the death of Vranic, who was found murdered in Radonic's house whilst Milena was spending the evening with us. You may well understand how astonished every one was, for Radonic and Vranic had been friends from their youth.

Although no one was ever very fond of Radonic, still n.o.body regretted Vranic, who, as you know, was gifted with the evil eye; and although I myself, not being superst.i.tious, do not believe that persons can harm you simply by looking at you, still it is useless to go against facts. Poor Milena, who was the first to enter the house after the murder--although your mother had accompanied her thither--was seized by such a terrible fright that she remained soulless for many hours, and has been ill ever since, though with care and good food we hope to bring her round.

"I was marvelled to hear how you fell in with the Giulianics, and that your s.h.i.+p saved them from death. It is certainly a dispensation of Providence, and--not being an infidel Turk--I do not see _Kismet_ in everything that happens; still, the hand of the Almighty G.o.d is clearly visible in all this.

"Giulianic and I were friends when he, Markovic and myself were poor folk, struggling hard to live and to put by a penny for a rainy day.

All three of us have, thank Heaven, succeeded beyond our expectations, for I am glad to hear, by your account as well as his own, that he is in such good circ.u.mstances.

"One day--long before you were born--talking together and joking, we made each other a kind of promise, more for the fun of the thing than for anything else, that if we should have, the one a son, and the other a daughter, we should marry them to each other. Not to forget our promises, we exchanged tobacco-pouches. To tell you the truth, not having heard of the Giulianics for so many years, I had all but forgotten my promise, and I daresay he looked at his own pledge as a kind of joke. On receiving your letter, however, I at once wrote to this old friend, sending him back his gold-embroidered pouch and redeeming mine. He at once wrote back a most affectionate letter, saying that he was but too happy to give his daughter to the young man who had saved Ivanka's life, but, apparently, had stolen away her heart. Therefore, my dear son, you may henceforth consider yourself engaged to the girl of your choice; and may the blessing of G.o.d and of the holy Virgin rest on you both for ever.

"Your mother wishes me to tell you not to forget your prayers morning and evening, to try and keep all the fasts, and to light a candle to St. Nicholas whenever you go on sh.o.r.e, so that he may keep you from storms and s.h.i.+pwrecks. Besides, she bids me tell you, that if you want more underclothing, to write to her in time, so that she may prepare everything you need.

"Your loving father,

"Milos Bellacic."

Whilst Milenko was reading this letter, doubt returned several times within his heart, and began to gnaw at it. As soon as he had finished, he handed it back to Uros, and seeing his honest eyes fixed upon him, as if asking for consolation, all doubts were at once dispelled.

"Well," said Uros, "it isn't enough to think that Milena is ill, but all this complication must arise."

"As for Milena," replied Milenko, "she is much better; here is a letter from my mother, written after yours, in which she says that she is quite out of danger."

Comforted with the idea that the woman he loved was better, Uros could not help smiling, then almost laughing.

Milenko looked at him, astonished.

"After all, this is your fault," said Uros.

"Mine?"

"Of course; you would insist in allowing old Giulianic to believe you were myself; now there is only one thing left for you."

"What?"

"To act your part out."

"I don't quite understand."

"Go to Nona, and marry Ivanka at once; when married, Giulianic will have to give you his blessing."

"Oh! but----"

"But what?"

"I don't think Ivanka will consent."

"If she loves you she will. I wish it was as easy for me to marry Milena as it is for you to wed Ivanka."

"But wouldn't it be better to get the father's consent?"

"Old people are stubborn; once they get a thing into their heads, it's difficult to get it out again."

"Yes, but if----"

"With 'buts' and 'ifs' you'll never marry."

"What are you discussing?" said the captain, coming up.

"Oh! I was simply saying that only a daring man deserves to wed the girl he loves," said Uros.

"Of course; don't you know the story of Prince Mathias?"

"No," replied the young man.

"Well, then, as we have nothing to do just now, listen, and I'll tell it to you."