A Winter's Night

== A WINTER'S NIGHT: A Polish Tale ==
=== by Eliza Orzeszko. ===
Adapted from a French Version by Katherine Berry di Zerega, published in Short Stories 1903 
Although
not far advanced, the night was very dark. Heavy clouds obscured the sky,
unrelieved by a single star; fiercely howled the wind, groaning and plunging
into a deep ravine, whose precipitous heights enclosed a frozen stream. Ravine
and river, with outlines shrouded in snow, were lost in the surrounding gloom.
A mountain on the right, covered with leafless trees, shut out the horizon; on
the left were dark spots, village homes; their lighted windows pierced the
darkness with luminous points. 
At the foot
of the ravine walked a man. His somber silhouette moved rapidly over the vague
whiteness of the land. The lofty banks of the ravine diminished his size,
reducing him to a being of infinitesimal proportions, borne away on an ocean of
clouds and solitude. The unchained winds seemed dragging him along at their
will. A wild and terrible nature confronted the wretched man, who appeared but
as a grain of sand, a blade of grass, an atom fallen from the precipice. He
advanced, however, with a firm step, but his iron staff now striking against a
stone, he paused, with eyes fixed on the lighted windows of the cabins, and a
smothered exclamation escaped him — he had recognized the place. Then he
crossed the frozen river, climbed the opposite bank, and approached the last
enclosure of the village. 
It was the
dwelling of Simon Mikoula, who was seen within, standing against the thick wall
of the structure By the light of a poor lantern his figure appeared colossal,
his head massive through the clouds of smoke that he exhaled". His large,
muscular hands evinced uncommon strength, while his entire frame indicated an
energetic and indomitable will. At first glance one could see that if this old
man were to arise and give orders, every one would hasten to obey. 
A number of
people were present. The oldest, a carpenter, was at work upon a wooden rake.
One could distinguish naught in his bearded face save two little eyes, as
shining as sparks. His wife, the dignified and beautiful Christine.was standing
beside the hearth, with the majestic mien of a revered matron, a wife content
with her destiny. Near her was a young girl seated at a spinning-wheel, its
motion at this moment suspended as she listened to the animated words of a
peasant. 
Seated upon
an over-turned tub, and employed in shelling beans, was a little old woman who,
in order to hear better, had thrust forth her wrinkled face into the bright
light of the fireplace. No less astonished and eager was the wife of Alexis,
pretty and fresh as the dawn, and slender as the stem of a lily. She was
rocking an infant in her arms, while watching a wicker cra&le attached to a
beam of the ceiling, wherein an older babe lay sleeping. Two little blond
girls, on the top of the oven, and a youth of fifteen, occupied in weaving a
net, were likewise listening eagerly to the story, of Alexis, the youngest son
of old Mikoula. Standing in the middle of the izba, still wrapped in his cloak
of black sheepskin, a whip in his hand, the young man was talking excitedly. 
"It is
true, I tell you. Everyone is talking about it, and they all agree that it is
the brigand Bonk, the man who killed three people ten years ago. Sentenced to
hard labor for life, he escaped, and, under an assumed name, and with a forged
passport, managed to get into a factory, where he worked for two or three
years. Discovered, he received one hundred strokes of the knout. " 
The young mother,
who was rocking her child, uttered a plaintive cry; the old woman shook her
head; the blue eyes of the blond boy were clouded with terror. 
"And
he lived through it? Great heavens!" exclaimed the gentle mistress of the
house. 
"Yes,
indeed ! The devil didn't fly away with him for that !" answered Alexis.
"After some time spent in the hospital, he was sent off to Siberia. Well !
now would you believe it! He escaped again!" 
"Did
he escape from Siberia?" asked Mikoula. 
" Yes,
indeed, father! After a year or two he left without leave. They have sought for
him throughout the empire, and — they have found him — here." 
"What!
here?" exclaimed Mikoula. "Who do you expect to believe such stuff?
" 
"I
assure you, father, I am not lying. He was discovered two leagues from here, in
a factory, with a forged passport. But he escaped again, before they had time
to arrest him." 
"Did
they send around his photograph?" asked the carpenter. 
"
People like that don't get photographed — but the officer in charge received a
lot of papers, and said: 'Good people, search for him, for God's sake, if you
would avoid misfortune, and when you have taken him, bring him to prison. This
time he will receive not one, but two hundred strokes of the knout ; then
chains on his ankles and hard labor for the rest of his life.' That is
all." 
A profound
silence ensued. One would have said that the ghost of the miserable man, with
bleeding bad? had just crossed the izba. At length Mikoula arose, and, while
knocking the ashes from his pipe against the table, said in a firm tone: 
"It is
no more than just! All criminals should be treated thus. ' Thou shalt not
steal.' A murderer ought not to live ! God himself hath said so. The innocent
should be protected. Enough said!" 
Here his
stern glance fell upon the family group, and his brow, deeply ploughed with
wrinkles, his whole being, seemed to proclaim that if one of his flock should
ever follow the example of the other one, he would be the first to lay upon him
his massive hand of bronze. Everyone was silent whenever he uttered these
words: "Enough said!" disputes, disagreements, discussions, at once
ceased. 
Alexis laid
down his whip, went up to his wife, and began to softly caress the cheek of his
sleeping son ; the carpenter once more took up his plane, and the monotonous
whir of young Annette's wheel again filled the room. 
At this
moment the door creaked on its hinges, and the sound of a rough, panting voice
was heard exclaiming: 
"Praise
the Lord!" 
" Now
and forever! " replied those within. 
" Sir,
madame," continued the harsh voice, " I am a traveler who asks for
your hospitality. Permit me to rest here awhile. I will not impose upon you
long, but will leave in less than an hour." 
"
Enter and rest yourself," replied Mikoula. 
The flame of
the hearth revealed a man of remarkable height, with broad but sunken
shoulders, clad in a suit of fine cloth, and wearing heavy boots that covered
the knees. His face was of the sickly hue of parchment, and his high brow, red
hair, and bright blue eyes challenged instant attention. 
" Pray
sit down," said Christine,without quitting the hearth. Then, turning to
her son, the youth of fifteen, she added: 
"John,
fetch a stool." 
The
stranger seated himself, with the iron staff between his knees. 
"I am
so cold — hungry," said he, rubbing his hands together, and with a smile
half jocose, half insinuating. 
"The
wind is strong enough to knock one down," said Alexis. 
"
Would you like something to eat? " said the carpenter. 
“Yes,
indeed; I should have eaten, but neglected to bring any food with me," he
replied, smiling; his voice, however, betrayed an inward anguish, and his
glance darted eagerly to the oven. " I have been marching for two days.
What do I sayl Two days! Two weeks — I have walked and walked and walked; I
seek what I have not lost — and know not if I shall ever find it." 
He laughed
again, a forced laugh. No one spoke, for no one gave orders save Simon Mikoula.
The old man regarded the stranger abstractedly, then addressing his eldest
daughter-inlaw, said: " Have you anything to eat, Christine? " 
"There's
some gruel," she replied. 
Exhaling a
thiqk cloud of smoke, Mikoula then inquired: 
“Do you
come from a distance? " 
" From
Prussia," was the reply. 
“To work in
a factory? Germans seldom come here except for that purpose," observed
Mikoula. 
"Are
you a German?" eagerly questioned the urchin John. 
" No,
but I come from Germany. I heard that they were building some barracks in this
neighborhood, and thought perhaps they might employ me, for I can do good work.
I care not what it may be, provided I make a few pence." 
Christine
now placed a bowl of soup and a huge piece of black bread before the traveler,
who seized the bread with his long, bony fingers, reddened with cold, but his
eyes sought something else. 
"Pardon
me, master, but I am chilled through. Might I have a little glass of brandy ?
" 
"I've
no objection," replied Mikoula, absently; "Christine, get the
brandy." 
The
carpenter's eyes fairly glittered. Christine produced a bottle and glass, which
Mikoula half filled, lifted to his lips, then, bowing to his visitor, said
gravely: 
"To
your health." 
On
receiving the glass from the old man, the hand of the stranger trembled ; he
replied : 
"To
your prosperity." 
The
carpenter regarded his father timidly and stretched out his hand for the
bottle, then, as Mikoula was silent, emboldened, he poured himself out a
brimming glass, and, after drinking it, turned to his brother Alexis and said :
"Come,
take a drink." 
"I
don't drink," replied the young peasant; "my wife has forbidden
me." Then, with a loud laugh, "She made me swear not to, on the
crucifix; didn't you, Olenka? It's now more than a year since I've tasted a
drop of brandy. 
The old
woman, who was shelling beans, drew near the bottle. 
"Drink,"
said Mikoula. 
She did not
wait to be urged, but, bowing to the company, quickly gulped down the contents
of the glass. The stranger fastened his gaze upon her, while greedily
swallowing, enormous mouthfuls of soup and devouring the bread crumbs in the
hollow of his hand. However, as his hunger began to be appeased, he examined
those around him more curiously. One would have said he was searching for
someone; then he abruptly demanded: 
" And
your wife, master, is she still living? " 
Before
Mikoula could speak the old woman replied: 
"She's
dead, poor woman. She died ten years ago; the same year that I was dismissed
from the castle; then Simon, God bless him ! took me in to help Christine.
" 
"
Dead! " repeated the stranger, his gaze riveted on the face of the
speaker. "And y*)u, mother," he continued, " isn't your name
Nastoula? Were you not once housekeeper at the castle?" 
"Why,
yes," she replied, in surprise. 
“How did
you know it ? " questioned Alexis. 
The
stranger did not appear to hear. 
“How long
ago did you build this house, good master? " 
Simon
calmly replied that he had only added a story to the old one. 
"I see
that the izba is not exactly what it was," observed the stranger. 
" Did
you ever see it before ? " asked the carpenter. 
There was
no reply. Suddenly the unknown resumed : 
" So
then the old mother is no longer here ! Nor John ! ' ' 
" Who
do you mean by 'John'?" asked Simon, taking his pipe out of his mouth. 
" Why
do you ask? " replied the stranger, with a loud laugh. 4 'Why, your eldest
son, of course." 
" As
you know so much, have you ever been here before?" asked Olenka. 
" You
must have been," asserted Mikoula. 
"
You're right; I was here a long time ago. I helped build the castle." 
" That
has been built for nearly twenty years," said the old woman. 
" More
than that," corrected the stranger. 
" Come
now," said Mikoula, after carefully regarding his visitor, " it seems
to me that I've seen you somewhere. " 
"
Please God!" chimed in the old woman, " it seems to me that I, too, have
seen you before. Did you ever happen to speak tome?" 
The
vagabond smiled and, regarding her wrinkled hands, replied: 
" Did
I ever speak to you? Many a time, to be sure! Why, you used to give me white
bread and honey, taken out of the castle storeroom." 
Hereupon he
burst out laughing, his eyes glittering like jewels. 
The
vacillating gaze of Nastoula, searching and inquisitive, and that of Mikoula,
calm and severe beneath his heavy eyebrows, strove to discern whom this
stranger might be. 
The unknown
rubbed his hand? together to conceal his agitation, then, going up to the young
girl at the spinning-wheel, inquired: 
"Art
thou the master's youngest daughter ?" 
“ Yes,"
she replied, blushing. 
“And not.
yet twenty ? ' ' 
"No."
During this
colloquy the room was filled with the clamor of tongues. John was accusing the
little old woman of having taken another glass of brandy, and Olenka was
laughing at their quarrel; the carpenter was talking to his wife, who had
seated herself at the spinning-wheel. Mikoula alone was silent, continuing to
examine the traveler through the puffs of smoke from his pipe, with his elbows
on the table, and his head thrown back, when Alexis, in a loud tone, suddenly
inquired : 
" Have
you seen or heard anything of Bonk? " 
A solemn
silence ensued, then the stranger calmly replied : 
"Of
course; one hears of no one else nowadays." 
"Deliver
us from^such talk! Do you think they will catch him?" 
"Perhaps
yes; perhaps no," replied the vagabond, coldly. 
"It is
to be hoped that they will; otherwise we shall have any number of robberies,
fires, and murders." 
"Nonsense!
If he has escaped twice, he'll be clever enough not to hang around here,"
cried the carpenter. "I can't for the life of me understand," he went
on, "how he ever got out of that prison, ten years ago — for I've seen it.
Tremendously thick walls! Soldiers! Bayonets! You'd think only a bird could
escape. Well! he managed to, all the same! He couldn't have bitten through the
walls, or jumped out of the window, for it's so high he'd have been smashed to
bits on the pavement." 
"He
didn't jump out; he flew out," replied the vagabond, with a smile of
satisfaction. 
"With
wings manufactured by the devil?" grumbled the carpenter. 
"On a
witch's broom?" said Alexis, jocularly. 
"No,
but with the aid of an umbrella, in faith!" 
Everyone
ceased speaking, overcome by surprise, while the stranger stood swaying
complacently in front of the fire. 
"Yes,
a fool would think it a miracle, but a wise man, and I am one, would know that
such an idea was mere childishness. Now this is what Bonk did: He took an
umbrella, a very large one, opened it, turned it upside down, and houp! jumped
inside of it and flew down out of the window. Otherwise he would have fallen
head foremost. The umbrella, sustained by the wind, descended slowly, and Bonk
only scraped his nose on the pavement, where he landed full length. They found
the umbrella all right, the next day, but it was three years before they found
the prisoner. Ha! ha!" 
His
laughter and his countenance expressed the pleasure of a rogue after
successfully performing a mischievous trick. 
"How
is it that you happen to know all these details?" interrogated Mikoula, in
a loud, severe tone. "Yes; how is it?" they all repeated. 
The unknown
seemed to detect hostility in this question, and, proudly raising his head,
replied: 
"How
do I know? Do people never talk? And haven't I ears to hear? They've talked and
I've listened. What the devil do you mean ? " 
He stamped
his foot to emphasize his displeasure, but seemed alarmed. 
Alexis
stared hard at him, then observed : "You appear to know a good deal about
this Bonk, my dear sir; perhaps you have met him." 
"How
can that be when I've just come from Prussia, and it's more than twenty years
since I've set foot in this country," replied the vagabond, shrugging his
shoulders. 
"What
a pity! Then you might have told us something that would have helped us catch
him. Ah! if I could only once get' hold of him, before the police, wouldn't I
flay him alive, though!" 
" For
shame ! So young and yet so cruel ! " "But he's a brigand!"
replied the infuriated Alexis. "May the rogue perish!" cried the
carpenter. " He must be secured at all risks, or he'll find accomplices
and begin again. 
"He
won't have time to," replied Alexis. "When once he's been taken, when
they've given him two hundred lashes of the knout, they'll send him off there
to the other end of the world to work in the mine6, underground, from dawn till
night." 
"Poor
soul!" murmured Olenka, hugging her son to «h$r breast. 
" Why
was he ever born ? " muttered Nastoula. 
Christine
drew up her tall figure, gazed thoughtfully into the fire, and in a low tone
let fall these words : 
"And
yet, he, too, has been borne in a mother's arms." 
The unknown
suddenly leaned over to her, and hurriedly murmured in her ear: 
11 Watch
over your son! Guard well your John, so that he may never be like that
miserable man." 
Startled,
she turned her head, but he was gazing in another direction at Mikoula, who,
still relentless, was proclaiming in stern tones: 
"It is
but just." 
"Still,"
resumed the stranger, "it would be interesting to hear his side of the
story; for it is not likely that this Bonk became a brigand without some
reason. Whence did he come ? Where is the mother who bore him in her arms? He
was not an assassin! So he must have taken the downward path step by step,
before reaching a point from which no power can pluck him back. I know not what
he may have done before committing murder, but I do know that he abhorred his
crime afterward and that he tried to work honestly in a factory. Do you fancy
that they left him in peace ': No, indeed ! They arrested him and pushed him
down into the mud again. Who cared to know that he repented? The devil,
perhaps! but — " 
Here Alexis
interrupted him excitedly : 
" Ah !
how well you take the part of brigands ! " 
"Oh,
yes! you who are so comfortable in your fine sheepskin coat, do you think that
a poor devil with a scarred back has no claim to pity ? " 
"None!"
cried Mikoula, roughly, with a frown. The word shot forth like a blow in the
face of the unknown, who, recognizing the affront, strode across the room and
sat down beside the old man. 
The
attention of the company was now diverted by the arrival of two newcomers;
confidents conversation ensued, and Mikoula and the vagabond were left to
themselves. 
"Master,
what has become of your son John?" questioned the stranger, in a low tone.
"Have you, then, forgotten him?" 
"Heaven
forbid!" yelped the old Nastoula, who had just drunk half a glass of
brandy, and had crept up to the two men. "May I be palsied, may I die, if
I ever forget my own little darling, my Jacky. Many and many a time have I
carried him in my arms." 
But the
unknown, heeding not her words, went on: "So then, my master, it seems
that you have forgotten John! Nevertheless he was your first-born, a fine lad,
fearless and intelligent — " 
" Too
fearless," muttered the old man, shaking the ashes from his pipe. 
“ But what
happened to him? " 
Mikoula was
silent for a moment. 
" It
was all the result of a childish action. I was commissioned to go to the city
to consult a lawyer regarding a suit some neighbors had instituted against us.
I took John with me, as I was fond of him. God forgive me! ' He was a very
bright boy, but too fond of having his own way. At work he was like a spirited
horse; at play, ungovernable. Sometimes he would throw his arms around your
neck, and nearly Strang e you ; at other times he would resist, no matter whom.
I used to scold him well, but more often was indulgent; up to that time he had
done no harm." 
His face
clouded and, shaking his head, he continued: " 1 was wrong in taking him
to the lawyer's house. He listened to every word and on our return home, said:
*I will kill any one who tries to take away our property ;' but I only laughed
at him. The land in question really belonged to us; still, we lost the suit.
When the Doubrowas wished to take possession of it, all the village opposed
them. But the civil authorities took the matter up, and two employees were sent
to measure the field and give to each one his portion. All at once twenty
youths fell upon them, armed, some with scythes, some with pitchforks, my Jack
at the head of them, like a commander. They were all arrested and tried, but he
alone was condemned, and to three years in prison. 'He is the chief/ said they,
'the instigator.' I did not very much mind his being imprisoned for a while, as
I thought it might teach him to be reasonable." 
The unknown
burst out laughing, and exclaimed: "Well! and did he learn anything there?
" 
"
Alas, yes! On his return he gave us no peace. 4 What pleasure,' he used to say,
'can you take in staying in these hovels, and in working so hard, while the
world revels in riches, and one £an get them with so little trouble.' Then I
used to beat him; but he would cry out, 'You'd better stop it father, or I'll
run away, and you'll never see me again.' After that he would rush off to the
tavern. Then he took to drink; he who had never before even tasted brandy. He
was but a boy, hardly seventeen years old, when he was sent to prison, and it
was there that he formed the habit. I used to lecture him, and say: 'Art thou
not ashamed, John? Dost thou not fear the good God ? ' And then he would laugh
and reply, ' I've seen and heard many strange things in prison. Those who
remain in their villages are fools. As to me, I know more about it than you ! '
Ah ! yes, he did indeed know more than I after three years in prison." 
Here the
vagabond gave a smothered, significant laugh, exclaiming: "Ah! my good
master, if you had known what kind of teachers your son had there, the shock
might have killed you." 
The
peculiar intonation of his voice seemed to remind Simon of the past. He
examined the traveler curiously. 
"What
do you mean by that?" said he, slowly. " Have I ever known you before
? Who are you? " 
The
traveler turned anxiously in the direction of the fireplace. Three young girls,
neighbors, had just entered, and Christine and Alexis bade them welcome. A
party at Mikoula's had begun. But the host sat gazing steadfastly at his guest
and appeared sunk in profound meditation. With eyes fixed on the ground, he
could be seen, through the smoke of his pipe, shaking his head like one
surprised and in doubt. 
The old
Nastoula, now half-drunk, seizing the traveler by the sleeve, here resumed the
conversation : 
"So
you used to know our John?" cried she. "Did you really know him? Ah!
the poor boy, how he suffered! — and through his own father! How he used to
beat him! He was as stern with him as he had once been indulgent. Often did his
wife and I hold back his arms, crying: 'Simon, don't torment thy child! Don't
destroy his soul. If thou goest too far, he'll run away and be lost forever. '
Then he would throw us off and bellow like an ox. ' He'll have to suffer, if he
won't mend his ways! I'd rather kill him than have him do evil!' As to John, he
grew thin and melancholy. One day he seemed submissive, begged his father's
pardon, then disappeared. He has never been seen or heard of since; the poor dear!
His mother wept, Sister Marie wept , but his father never shed a tear.” 
With his
elbows on his knees, his head in his bony hand, the traveler, with half -closed
eyes, was listening to this recital as if in a reverie haunted by evil dreams.
Suddenly seizing the brandy bottle by the neck, he swallowed all that was left
in a single gulp, then exclaimed: 
"Oh!
foolish old woman! If he never regretted his first born, why then did he call
his grandson John? " 
Simon,
aroused from his meditation, leaned over to the unknown and, raising his right
hand, murmured : 
" In
the name of the Father and of the Son — " 
But the
traveler arose and, noisily pushing back his stool, went and seated himself in
the shadow. 
At this
moment the door was rudely burst open and a tall, stout girl, quite out of
breath, rushed in, crying: 
“For pity's
sake ! shut the door ! Here come the boys to the party. They're going to do all
they can to tease us, burn the flax on our distaffs, and a hundred other silly
things! " 
The girls
rushed at once to defend the door. One of them pushed a bench up against it;
another armed herself with a firebrand, and a third seized a pail of water. The
two little blond girls likewise took part in the mfitee, screaming with all
their might, and starting a deafening din. Four stalwart peasants now arrived
upon the scene of action, and, notwithstanding a vigorous defense, broke down
the ramparts and entered the fortress in triumph. 
The
newcomers went up and saluted Simon Mikoula, but he made no response, although
always pleased to see people in his house; on this evening, however, his gloomy
silence and deeply-furrowed brow betokened clouds heavy with tempests. Opposite
the old man, between the wall and a hogshead, the traveler was seated in the
shadow. He was listening to the charades and songs whereby the guests
entertained themselves, and the remembrances they evoked in his soul caused him
to heave a mournful sigh, resembling a groan. 
The gentle
Olenka, who was seated near by, then turned quickly to him, and, with beaming
face, exclaimed: 
"Nastoula
is going to tell us some stories; she knows such splendid ones ! Listen ! ' ' 
The old
woman, in her cap of red cotton, in trembling tones, now began her tale: 
' ' Once
upon a time there were three brothers. Two of them were clever, but the third
was simple-minded. When they were grown up, and of an age to marry, the father
said to them: 'Which one of you shall I arrange to be married the first?' The
oldest replied, 'On account of my age, I think you should choose me.' Then the
second one said, 'Nor should I object.' Then said the simple-minded one, in his
turn, ' I, too, would like to be married. ' Then said the father: 'Go to the
forest, and he who brings back the most berries, shall be married the first. '
They obeyed. The two older ones picked away for some time, but their baskets
would not fill quickly. Then they turned to the simple-minded one, who was
working hard, without saying a word, and asked: ' How many have you?' 'See,' he
replied, 'my basket is full, and I am ready to go home.' Overcome by jealousy
the brothers seized a knife and plunged it into his heart; then they dug a hole
and threw his body therein, covering it with earth. Instead of a cross, they
planted a little cherry tree on the grave, then returned to their home. 
"Some
time after, a horseman passing by, saw the cherry tree and cut it down to make
a flute of it. As he was placing it to his lips, the flute began to sing: 'Play
not, play not on me. Torment not thou my heart, my brothers murdered me.”
"The
horseman, greatly astonished, goes on his way and arrives at the village where
the fratricides lived with their father. Surprised by nightfall, he asks their
hospitality. ' If you did but know- what strange thing has happened to me,'
said he to his host. ' While going through the forest, I espied a pretty little
cherry tree, slim and straight, and cut it down to make a flute of it. In all
my life 1 have never heard aught like it. Would you like to try it?' The host
takes up the flute, which at once begins its plaint: 'Play not on me, my
father!' Deeply concerned, the old man passes the instrument to his sons, when
again is heard the mournful refrain, 'Play not on me, my brothers. Torment not
my poor heart, for you have murdered me.' Then the truth was discovered, and
they fell upon the guilty ones and put them in prison." 
When the
old woman ceased speaking, for several moments silence reigned in the izba. 
"How
frightened these women all are!" murmured the gay Alexis in the ear of one
of his companions. "Just wait a minute, and you'll see how I'll scare
them, too!" 
He went
out, and in two minutes came running back, crying: " Help ! help ! Bonk is
coming! The brigand Bonk is after me." 
The
spinners screamed. The grave Christine herself trembled and glanced anxiously
at her two little girls. But the young people, divining the trick, burst out
laughing. Then each one had something to say. None had observed that at the
time of the joke the unknown had suddenly arisen. Then the laughter of the peasants
had appeared to reassure him. His restless glance wandered over the walls and
the assemblage, then slowly he sank to the ground, clutching his iron staff,
till his form disappeared behind the hogshead. The head alone, emerging from
the shadows, and illumined by the flame of the hearth, had a ghostly effect,
suspended thus in mid-air. Mikoula encountered its gaze and trembled. 
" In
the name of the Father and of the Son," murmured he, in affright. His pipe
fell from his nerveless hand, but he perceived it not. 
“Good God!
" faltered he, bowing before this head, so tragic of aspect, so forlorn,
emaciated, with withered skin, prominent cheek-bones and shaken by convulsive,
silent sobs. The moving lips, though mute, appeared to say: " Father, do
you not know your child? Do you not remember what once I was? See what I am
to-day!" 
"Merciful
Jesus! Have pity upon us!" murmured the terrified old man. 
At the
other end of the room the women were singing in chorus a popular melody,
"Arise, oh, moon! Arise! Ah! fair one, it is time. Approach, my sole
delight. " 
And the
lips went on. "Dost thou remember our sunny days together? Those days when
thou wert wont to turn homeward with nets all full of fish with rosy fins and
silver scales; when, barefoot, I did blithely follow thee, while joyously my
shouts resounded to the graveyard green, borne by the echoing pines; Father,
dost thou remember?" 
The swift
whir of the spinning-wheels fell upon the ear, accompanying the gay refrain
that now arose in swelling tones. "How can I ask thee, love? They laugh at
me and say that I ought not to wed." 
And still
the mournful, quivering lips went on: "Father, no longer may I live with
thee, in this, thy kind and hospitable home, where friends and merry games
beguile the winter nights. Though chance hath led me here, now must I flee away
;flee from the terror that pursues, chilling the blood within my veins. But I
have deeply sinned, and as thou saidst but now, 'Justice must be observed!'
then here I cannot stay." 
Spellbound,
Mikoula repeated, tremblingly, " No, here thou canst not stay;' 1 then,
suddenly passing his hand over his eyes, he exclaimed: " Specter, get thee
hence! What devil hath summoned thee?" He then turned to the wall, leaning
thereon his threatening brow, refusing to look or listen more. 
And still
the women sang a joyful, glad refrain. 
Suddenly,
as a ribbon severed in twain, the chorus ceased, and from the midst of the
group of peasants the insolent voice of Alexis demanded : 
"Where
is your passport, Mr. Traveler? Show it, so that we may know who you are."
At these
words Mikoula turned quickly around. Wrinkled and stern, with hands upon his
knees, he remained mute, while regarding the six peasants grouped around the
hogshead. 
"Does
anyone know who you are? We may be guilty in not having taken thee to the guard
-house before." 
"Perhaps
thou art the brigand, Bonk, the man who has shed innocent blood," cried
the clever Damien, who had been the first to suspect the identity of the
unknown. 
As a wild
beast pursued by hunters, the stranger threateningly arose. Lifting his iron
staff, with a terrible oath, he rushed to the door; but they seized him by the
shoulders, while everyone shrieked in chorus: 
"Ha!
ha! So then your heels are your passport?" 
"It is
Bonk! It must be!" 
The women,
in affright, crowded together, and the little girls hid their heads in the
skirts of their mother, who alone retained a calm and grave demeanor. The old
Nastoula had fallen asleep, from time to time her lips murmuring vaguely the
dreamy words of some familiar refrain. 
Having
reached the door, the unknown fought furiously. Muscu'ar, strong, and doubtless
used to this kind of attack, he repulsed his opponents, whose number, however,
augmented by Alexis and the carpenter, in the end was bound to prevail. 
" Some
rope ! I say, girls, give us some rope ! " 
But not a
soul stirred, and only the voice of the old woman was heard, humming: " '
Play not on me, my brothers! Torment not my poor heart.' " 
Then a
pleading voice, in humble, trembling tones, arose in the midst of the
struggling group. 
" Let
me go, good people. For the love of heaven! As you yourselves would be saved! I
shall do you no harm; I am leaving here at once and forever. Ah ! let me go !
" 
This appeal
was met by sneers and laughter. 
Suddenly
old Mikoula arose in all the majesty of his towering height; then, striving to
speak, but failing to utter a syllable, he fell back into his seat. Leaning
against the chimneypiece, Nastoula kept on repeating in her dreams,
'"Torment not my poor heart, my brothers murdered me.' " As the women
did not obey his order, Alexis went out in search of rope, and the vagabond
again essayed to escape. With head thrown forward, he exhausted himself in.
vain efforts. Ah! how shrunken his tall figure now appeared. In this crouching
attitude he seemed to already see the knout descending on his defenseless form.
His contracted features expressed a whole world of suffering, while his haggard
eyes roved o'er the assembled group, wildly imploring pity. At this moment he
in truth personified the sum of human misery. 
"Chance
alone led me here,"" he continued; "I meant no harm. I only
wished to rest awhile. I'm going far away; release me, I entreat you, for the
love of Christ. Ah! good people, have mercy on me!" 
Christine,
as in a dream, was softly murmuring: " And this man, too, was once
caressed and carried in a mother's arms." 
Alexis now
reappeared with the rope. 
"Enough
of this!" exclaimed a voice accustomed to command, and Mikoula, who had
arisen for the second time, now advanced, majestic in his blouse of snowy
linen, girt with a scarf of wool. " Release him! Let him go, I say!" 
" But,
father, it is Bonk," protested the irrepressible Alexis. 
"Hold
thy peace!" replied his father, sternly; then, with a lightning glance at
the unknown, he cried: 
"Go,
and sin no more." 
The culprit
crept forward, fell upon his knees, and pressed his lips to the old man's feet.
Great tears rolled down Mikoula's wrinkled cheeks; with a sudden gesture he
leaned over the unhappy man, prostrated in the dust, then, drawing himself up,
repeated : 
"Sin
no more." 
And then,
with all his strength, in terror even, he exclaimed: 
"Go!
go!" 
And,
folding his arms, added in softertones : " Go in peace " 
Category:Orzeszko
Category:ShortStories