The old farm, which had been in the hands of the Tirallas for over a hundred years, had rather an imposing look in the distance. Not much was to be seen of the farmhouse itself--it was very low, as though sunk in the ground--but the barns and stables, all roofed with new, red tiles, formed a wall round the square courtyard in front of it, and the whole together const.i.tuted a very fine property. But what good was it to her if she didn't love her husband?

The young man cast one more look at his clothes, and then, after flipping the snow off his trousers, walked through the open gateway, over which was a figure of the Holy Virgin sitting on a throne, which was protected by a grating. A couple of dogs rushed at his legs and barked; but he was not a coward, although he was no giant, and a kick soon frightened the curs away. A man stood in the stable door watching the schoolmaster as he walked up to the farmhouse.

What did the Starawies schoolmaster want? Ha, ha, was he also coming to kiss the mistress's hand? Somebody had already been there yesterday, and the day before yesterday as well. How they all ran after her. But they had no luck, thought Jendrek with a broad grin on his face. The Pani bestowed the kindest look on him, and she gave him bacon every day in the kitchen, and an extra gla.s.s of gin as well. G.o.d bless the good woman!

Bohnke stepped into the stone pa.s.sage, but n.o.body came. He gave a loud cough; he had never been there before, and did not know where to knock.

He sc.r.a.ped his feet, and as there was still no sign of anybody he called out in a polite voice, "May I come in? Hallo! is n.o.body at home?"

[Pg 71]

Then he heard Mr. Tiralla's voice coming from the room on the right, "Come in, come in, it's very comfortable here."

The schoolmaster knocked at the door.

"Confound you! Come in, I say."

Bohnke went in, but he at once drew back. Oh, he didn't wish to disturb. But still he stood as though rooted to the spot, and stared and stared. There was Mr. Tiralla lying all his length on the bench by the stove with his head resting on his wife's lap.

Mrs. Tiralla blushed crimson as their eyes met. Then she lowered hers, and jumped up so hastily that the heavy man on her lap was in danger of falling on the floor.

"_Psia krew!_" cried the man, and then he laughed. Surely she didn't feel shy, weren't they husband and wife?

She answered nothing, but she glanced at her husband with such an expression of disdain, and then looked so hopelessly out of the window, that Bohnke at once knew that she was unhappy, and that her husband did not understand her. And he felt his heart beat.

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Bohnke," she said in a friendly voice, and held out her hand. It felt like velvet as it lay in his, but it was as cold as ice. He ventured to press it slightly; but she did not return the pressure, she only gave him a sad look out of her splendid eyes and smiled a little. Oh, that poor woman! How he would have liked to give that abominable fellow a blow as he lay on the bench.

Mr. Tiralla was in a very good humour. He shouted to Marianna to fetch beer and gin, and then told his wife to bring out some food. Bohnke will be hungry--such a schoolmaster is always hungry--bring what [Pg 72] you can find: ham, eggs, cake, sausages, cheese, and what else you've got in the larder. "We've got plenty." Then, without rising from the bench, he seized hold of the schoolmaster with the words, "Take a seat, pray," and forced him down on the nearest chair in spite of his resistance. "We're pleased to give you it. _Psia krew_, only no excuses."

Bohnke had stammered something about not wishing to give trouble, about not being hungry, about going away immediately. But the farmer had given a boisterous laugh as usual, and had said that the schoolmaster had better tell that to the marines, for he didn't believe it. He had probably been brought up in the same way as his wife, eh? She had always worn shoes and stockings as a child, and had been as dainty-looking as a doll; but her little bread-basket had been as empty as a barn before harvest. She had been as thin as a church mouse in those days.

The schoolmaster saw Mrs. Tiralla give her husband a second look, but there was more than disdain in her look this time--something else gleamed in the depths of those dark eyes. Then she turned away and went out of the room without saying a word.

"Heigh, Sophia, be quick!" shouted the man after her.

And then he began singing her praises to the schoolmaster. Mr. Tiralla loved to have visitors; he was so delighted to have an opportunity of talking about his wife and his happiness to somebody. He bragged about everything, and dilated loquaciously upon matters that a husband does not generally mention to other men. His Sophia had a wonderful figure, a wonderful figure! As slender as a birch! And she was so dainty, slim in the waist and still rounded, broad across the hips, soft and warm like a partridge [Pg 73] or like one of those little pigs made of marzipan, which Wolkowitz, in Posen, used to put in his window at Christmas time. And her bosom! Would you believe that----Lowering his voice but very little he was about to confide some more intimate particulars to the young man. But the latter tore himself away from the hand that was pressing him down on the chair. He had been fidgeting about on his seat for some time, but now he felt he could stand it no longer. A burning blush suffused his face--was it from shame or desire?

Oh, that woman, that poor woman, at the mercy of such a man! He was filled with an inexpressible repugnance for this stout, coa.r.s.e old man, who literally undressed his wife in the presence of others. Could anybody blame her if she disliked him as much as Mrs. Jokisch had said?

The farmer had not noticed that the schoolmaster was struggling with his feelings. It had not even struck him that he was silent. He had found him a modest young man who did not talk much, and that was a good thing, because then he was listening. Mr. Tiralla was very pleased with his visitor.

Marianna appeared with three bottles of beer under each arm and a small tray with gla.s.ses in her hand. She looked hale and hearty, and there was no trace left of that fearful indisposition which had attacked her at the commencement of the winter. She scanned the visitor with sparkling, roguish eyes. Would he in time become the Pani's lover? It wouldn't surprise her if she got hold of one now. But this man--she made a grimace of disapproval--this man wasn't half good-looking enough. And he didn't seem very enterprising either, for he had never even glanced at her, although she had more than once touched him with her sleeve and had reached right over him in [Pg 74] order to place the gla.s.ses and the six bottles on the table.

"That's enough for the present," said Mr. Tiralla. "But listen, girl,"

he added, pinching her in the thigh so that she screamed aloud, "go down to the cellar and fetch us another bottle of Tokay. And where's the gin? You must have a gla.s.s to begin with, little Bohnke, or you'll catch cold. Hallo, you little devil, why are you still there?" he roared at the maid, who stood smiling and showing all her teeth. "Can't you understand me? Do you think I'm speaking German? Isn't it Polish I'm speaking? She's very stupid," he said apologetically, as the girl left the room with a bold laugh, "but she's faithful--and she's pretty."

He said this with a smile which horrified the schoolmaster anew. Had it come to that? The man was not even faithful to her? Poor, poor thing!

He had never felt so sorry for anybody in his life, and he was not soft-hearted as a rule. He longed for her return. She probably felt ashamed of what had happened, otherwise she would have returned long ago.

Mr. Tiralla was also growing impatient. The gin didn't taste half so good if his Sophia hadn't taken the first sip of it, and he didn't care for the beer at all. He shouted again for the maid, and when she came with the bottle of Tokay and a large tray of eatables he said to her angrily, "Put it down. Where's your mistress? _Psia krew_, what's become of her?"

Marianna shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know why the Pani doesn't come. _Gospodarz_ must know best himself."

"Confound you! Call her. She is to come."

The maid disappeared. A few minutes later she stuck her head in at the door and said with a sad look, "Pani can't come, the Paninka is worse again; oh, [Pg 75] she's very ill." Then she withdrew as quickly as possible.

The gla.s.s which Mr. Tiralla hurled after her only hit the door, and then broke into a thousand pieces.

The schoolmaster could not stand it any longer. What was the good of staying there? Of course, she wouldn't show herself any more. Such bad luck! Why on earth should that stupid, red-haired child just get worse now? Or was it only an excuse? Oh, of course, it was an excuse. She would be sitting upstairs in a corner, bowed down with shame and weeping, weeping so much that her beautiful figure--broad across the hips, a waist as slender as a birch, slim and still rounded--shook with it. Although the young fellow tried his utmost not to think of it, he could not help it; he saw her the whole time just as the old man had described her to him. He changed colour; one moment he felt hot, the next cold. Mr. Tiralla went on filling his gla.s.s with beer, gin, and Tokay, the one after the other, and he drank more than he was accustomed to in his absent-mindedness. He was thinking of nothing but her. He could not believe that he was to leave the house without seeing her once more. So he sat and sat, until the sky grew darker and darker and the early afternoon turned into pitch-dark night. At last he rose from his chair with despair in his heart. He had attained nothing of all he had meant to attain; he hadn't offered her any books, he hadn't secured her for a dance at the Gradewitz ball, he hadn't even inquired about the child, which had been his nominal reason for coming to Starydwor. He felt furious with Mr. Tiralla; he was to blame for everything. Then he bade him good night.

Mr. Tiralla did not accompany him to the door--little Bohnke would be able to find it alone--so he [Pg 76] groped his way through the dark pa.s.sage to the front door, reeling a little as he walked. Suddenly a warm hand grasped his, some one chuckled near him in the dark, and the servant's deep voice said half compa.s.sionately, half mockingly, "Did you find it slow with Pan Tiralla? I'm sorry. Pani is upstairs with little Rosa. If Pan Bohnke wants to say good night to her----" she pushed him in the direction of the stairs and disappeared in the dark, chuckling.

Like a gnome, he thought--oh, no, like an angel. He was seized with a superst.i.tious terror. Everything seemed so strange; the old house, the chuckling maid, the loud-voiced man, the beautiful woman. He began cursing all the drink he had had and cursing Mr. Tiralla. Oh, if only he had been as sober and as clear-headed as he generally was.

The old staircase creaked under his feet. What would she say? Wouldn't she consider him intruding if he came up to her? But weren't those groans that he heard above the creaking of the stairs? That poor, beautiful woman! He must go to her. Where was she?

Now he was at the top. Hark, wasn't that the child's voice?

"Mother," he heard Rosa say, "sweet mother, I really did see her, you can believe me. She was as beautiful, as beautiful as you. She had hair like yours, when you undo your plaits. And she gave me the Child Jesus to hold. I love it, I love it!" She repeated that several times with great fervour.

What nonsense was the child talking? Of whom was she speaking? The schoolmaster drew nearer to the door. Ah--he gave a start--ah, now she, Mrs. Tiralla, was speaking. But he couldn't very well understand what she was saying, she spoke so softly. [Pg 77] And now and then she seemed to be sobbing. He knocked at the door and walked in. Rosa was lying in bed and her mother was sitting on the bed near her. They both stared at him in astonishment, but when he said with a voice that hesitated at first, but then grew firmer, that he felt he couldn't leave without hearing how she was, the child looked pleased.

"I'm very well," she answered, with a shy smile. "Very well, thank you, Panje Bohnke."

"She's feverish," said her mother. "She fainted the day before yesterday; Marianna came rushing down to tell us. We shall have to send for the doctor if she doesn't get better."

"No, no," cried the child, sitting up in bed and looking as though she were going to cry. "I'm not ill, mother darling, I'm not ill." She threw her arms round her mother and pressed her head against her breast.

The schoolmaster stepped up to the bed and laid his hand on the child's head. No, _she_ wasn't feverish, but he began to feel so as soon as he came near that beautiful woman. He busied himself with Rosa; what was the matter with her, wouldn't she soon come back to him?

Rosa nodded, and then raising her head from her mother's breast, she pushed her tangled hair away from her face, which looked dazzlingly white in spite of the freckles. Even Bohnke, in his agitation, noticed how bright her dull eyes had become.

"She dreams so much," said her mother sadly. "She frightens us by screaming aloud in her sleep. And she talks in her sleep as well; Marianna is really terrified. Oh, those awful dreams!" She sighed.

But the schoolmaster did not inquire any further into the matter.

Little Rosa's dreams did not interest [Pg 78] him in the slightest, all he wanted to do was to give Mrs. Tiralla a proof of his devotion.

"Would the Pani like to borrow some of my books?" he inquired. "I shall be very pleased to bring some." And then wishing to give her a hint of how he understood and pitied her, he took heart and added, "If people live such a lonely life as the Pani does, and are so un----" he wanted to say "unhappy," or "so little understood," but he faltered, and his veiled eyes looked longingly at her. He did not know how it was, but he always lost his self-possession when he was near her.

She must have understood him in spite of his faltering, for she sighed and said, "Ah, yes, Mr. Tiralla doesn't care much for reading. He eats, drinks, sleeps, and----" she also faltered and blushed. And then she gave him a long look out of her black eyes, so that his heart stood still. "I shall be very grateful to you if you'll lend me some books,"

she continued in a soft voice. "Mr. Tiralla doesn't like to spend money on them. Oh, I'm so fond of reading beautiful tales, sentimental ones."

The man was in the seventh heaven. So she wanted books? That meant that he would often have a chance of coming to see her. For he would take good care not to give Rosa the books; he would bring them himself, and never more than one at a time. "I'll bring you some," he said, overjoyed.

"Oh, not so loud, not so loud," begged Rosa, and her face was burning.

She had fallen back on the pillow, her eyes were wide open, but she spoke as though in her sleep. "I hear her, sh, mother, sh!"

What did she hear? The two looked at each other, whilst the howling wind outside seemed to creep along the walls of the house like clinging fingers. [Pg 79] Bohnke shook his head; the child was really very peculiar.