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Tiralla also raised his glass and bawled at the top of his voice, so that everybody could hear it, "Your health, little Böhnke. Have you nothing to drink? Come here, sonny, you can get something from me. Dalej, dalej, why aren't you coming?" All eyes were fixed on the schoolmaster, who said "Thanks" in a curt voice and without looking at the farmer, but did not move.
How very comical it sounded. A flea. ha-ha, a flea! She thrust her fist into her mouth and bit it, so as to suppress her laughter. Her mistress cast her an angry look. "How dare you? Go to your work. Dalej, dalej." The maid grew frightened. Ugh, how furious her mistress looked! Her glance was as cold as steel. "Let that wicked look fall on the dog!" she murmured, protecting her face with her arm.
"Dalej, dalej!" the peasant had shouted at him, as if he were his stableboy or his farm horse. Was he to put up with that? Was he really obliged to put up with it? No, no, no! The slim-looking schoolmaster was on the point of jumping up from his seat, but he got no further. He had again caught a glance from Mrs. Tiralla, and he had understood what those black eyes were saying to him.
The wind in the yard knocked him down. He fell full length, but picked himself up again. "Dalej, dalej!" Quiet, very quiet no lamenting even if he had hurt himself on the stones so that his father should not come and seize him by the collar, "Tell me, my son, where are you creeping off?" "Dalej, dalej!" He was longing to get there.
"Go in, Marianna, dalej, don't lounge there any longer. When Mr. Tiralla comes home we are to have supper, dalej." Disturbed in her amusement, the maid, who was still quite hot from laughing, murmured sullenly, "The master hasn't been out at all; he's in the house. I had to bring some bottles up from the cellar, and they've been drinking beer and gin. Now the master has gone to bed and is asleep."
It was late. If they wanted to be there in time they would have to start at once, as it would take quite two hours to drive to Gradewitz to-night with the roads in such a condition. "Dalej, my dear," he said, holding his wife's fur cloak for her, in a sudden fit of politeness. Marianna drew her master's thickest woollen socks over her mistress's dainty shoes.
She stamped her foot defiantly; why did they all stare at her with such stupid, glassy eyes? And Mr. Tiralla, was he already asleep? "Dalej!" she said curtly, and her voice sounded like the cut of a whip, "dalej!" He obeyed her. What else was there for him to do if his dear little wife was so anxious to get home?
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