The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1875-07-09
4 PEASANTS REVENGE.
Scene In the Carpathian 0Iountains

hlOu0u To procure me uISu6 SudIuAdb,
sent me the prince of protectors, man
who, it appeared, was afflicted with as
little need of sleep as possible. You
virtue. He spread upon the ground,
neaf the fire, his sheepskfn cloak, filled
his pipe, and lay down. This was thefeal
Cafpathian peasant, with tufouois bile
eyes. and long auburn locks, wearing
still the national costume, kind of
sleeveless tunic reaching to the knee. and
coat ordinarily OF T lain blue with
arabesdues upon the seams, living upon
btckwheat bread and cheese, drinking
water, bathing limited to his
cottage and enclosure, to his right to
fish in the mountain streams, respecting
his lord, his priest. and his 3ermih.
His hard toll, Ike that Of beast of
burden, ceased only upon Sunday, when
he shaved, went to macs, and got dead
drunk. l talked of liberty to Stepan
this was the name of my guardian.
He listened with profound indifference.
But the impassiveness of Stepan to my
discourse upon liberty was changed to
lively emotion as the evening advanced.
"BdttO" Cittle father, he then said,
cit is damp tonight you ought to go
in )" or "Batko, tho stars are sleeping
do likewise"
At last every evening it was the same,
with the Finale, Allez-dormir. Evil
IDENTIFY l distu1bed him. What did he
do if he did not sleep? One night l
made pretense of retiring, and posted
myself behind the curtain which closed
my tent, and watched him through the
opening. l saw him at first going and
coming, picking up dry branches. I'm
perceptibly he approached, the wood
and disappeared in the shadow. /
waited a, few moments there was no
sound. l took few steps in the direc-
ton which he had taken, and stopped.
The sound of words reached me.
Stepan was talking with some one. A
herdsman, doubtless, who was asking
for the hospitality of our camp fire. I
re-entered, went to sleep, and thought
no more abott the matter. Two or
three nights later I was in bed, unable
to sleep. The night was mild, very
mild, with a moon whose fantastic
beams defined, lighted. and concealed
everything in a misty halo. It's siIvery
softness was more beautiful than light
in its harmony. l turned, and turned
again upon my couch; it was impossible
to sleep. drank some water; I counted
thousand no sleep came even the
desire to go to sleep departed, and I
opened my eyes wide. What had in
famed my blood 1 instantly noticed
that the moon was opposite me, and
that she was regarding me strangely
with her round, sulphurus face, as if
distilling q luminous bo1sun. Oh,
!
which hung above me while / slept
as child in, the cradle. 1 shut my
eyes, but I felt her enveloping
me in haze [ could have annihilated
her. Why should she, the sorceress,
come to revive the inexplicable home
sickness, the implacable craving for
excitement, which followed me every
where My heart beat heavily; arose
and went out in order to breathe.
L stopped suddenly. A few steps
from the fire, by the side of Stepan, a
woman was sitting. She was a peasant
in the dress of a peasant-yet her
features had nothing of the type. The
two handkerchiefs, placed in contrary
directions, forming the head dress of
the women of this valley, were united.
In the peculiar light, her head was out
lined with the distinctness of an an
tique cameo. There was an indescriba-
BILE something in her expression, half
resolute, haif-thoughtfuI, which is
rarely seen among her class. Her
face was pale, large eyes of vel
lowish cast, like the eyes of
cats, her graceful figure in scarlet
bodice. Stepan was looking at her, and
she was looking at Stepan, and in the
magnificent and enervatiDg glory of the
summer night 1t was no more than
rustic idyl but the eternal, the brilliant,
the magical poem of love.
The moon when down, and about the
dying fire long shadows lowered. The
woman had disappeared. I called
Stepan, and after having ordered him
to rekrndle the fire, I began to walk
about. Day dawned, laughed, and [
equally reioiced and complimented
Stepan upon his beautiful fiancee. He
sighed and turned away his head with
out replying. These dull mountaineers
speak only when they will. I respected
the silence and the sigh.
"BatkO, it was Lonba, the wife of
my Deighbor do not speak of her in
the valley"
[ was surprised. Morals are very
pure here, where the barriers of custom
separate the sexes. They never mingle.
In the field, i'll the public house, and at
the church, the men group themselves
on one side and the women upon the
other; the children, even youths and
maidens, submit to this custom. Chance,
or perhaps the inconsistent desire to
Investigate to the bottom of things, in
duce me to take the road to the cottage
of Stepan. 1t was at the declivity on
the north side of the mountain, and
separated from the market town by the
torrent. There was another one beside
it which, until now [ had not observed,
with a court, vegetable garden, and
an orchard. In the court were heap
of manure, pools in which ducks were
sporting, a shed with q handless har-
row and other old, wOrn-out articles
In the garden a child was amusing him
self in making the dew fall from the
hemlOck branches. The orchard on the
slope reached to the wood on the noun
tain. The child entered the cottage,
leaving the door open. Lonba, the
wife of the neighbor, came to shut it.
How had she strayed int this wretched
peasant abode, she with her delicate,
taper hands, her slender form, and es-
pecially that understandable look, half.
resolute, half-thoughtful. And [ COM
pretended that if Stepan loved her it
was for this PARTICULAR feature. the ele-
gance of her extremities, her undu at
ing carriage, that are not seen among
her class. / questioned the school
master. He told me that Lonba was
the natural daughter of rich lord of
the vicinity and of a pOpadja1aka
daughter of a priest) whom he had
seduced and who died in given her
birth. Lonba was brought up in the
seignioral house until thirteen years of
age, at which period her father died
without leaving a will. The heirs
turned her out. For two years she
went from farm to farm, seeking en-
ployment but she was the daughter of
a szlachcianka, daughter of noble in
person, language and habits she knew
not how to work, They beat her and
despised her. At fifteen years of age
peasant from Skole, observing her
beauty, asked her to marry him. She
was dying of hunger, and accepted him.
1t was reported in the village that she
did not love her husband.
Now that the ice was broken, Stepan,
who had become very confidential, con-