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"There's still a fortnight," repeated Martin, and then gave a deep sigh of relief as one who again breathes light, fresh air after it has been sultry and oppressive for a long time. Mikolai sighed too. Psia krew, how difficult it was to sound the fellow. Although he thought he had introduced the subject so cunningly, he saw he would have to be still more explicit.
Mikolai no longer believed his friend; why did he not look him in the face? Psia krew, something had come between Martin and him which he could not fathom, but it was there, nevertheless. He felt very dejected as he left the room, the walls of which had so often echoed with their laughter. Now no laughter resounded within the thick walls of the old house.
"You're dancing very badly, Mr. Schmielke," she said, and next moment flew past him in little Ziëntek's arms. "Psia krew!" Mr. That hop o' my thumb, that little milksop of a post office clerk, had better try to come near him, he would soon take him in hand. He called himself master of the ceremonies, and his duty was obviously to provide for the entertainment of the guests.
But then, when her husband had appeared, had placed himself near the bed in which she lay so feeble, so weak, so at his mercy, and had said with such a satisfied smirk, "Psia krew, we've done that well!" then she could not restrain herself any longer. The nurse had hastened to the bedside, quite terrified, and had made the sign of the cross "All good spirits!"
"Psia krew, why so late? Come, my dears, come along." Rosa let her mother's arm go. Swinging her basket in the air she ran up to her father, "Mushrooms, mushrooms." She was glowing with happiness. He stroked her flying hair away from her face and patted her cheeks. "My darling, my consolation." Why did her father look so serious? He was low-spirited.
"The gospodarz had better come to my kitchen some evening, when the light's out, and see it for himself, and then he'll say, 'Ugh! They fly at your head, and into your face, and against your nose, eyes, and ears. They crawl about everywhere ugh!" She threw her apron over her head and gave a loud shriek. "Psia krew, what a noise!
"Quiet, quiet there," she said, groping about for the lantern in order to light it, as it was still rather dark. "Yes, yes, here she is, here's Marianna. Psia krew, hold your tongues." At that moment the lantern cast a light around. "Good God!" Breaking off in the midst of her chatter, the servant let the milk pails fall to the ground with a shrill scream. Why, the master was lying there!
She wanted to run away, to take her own life? Oh, how dreadful for such a beautiful creature to be sick of life. That overbearing fellow, that scoundrel! Psia krew, why couldn't he die? Then she would be free. He had not meant anything when he had said before, "But he won't go on living for ever." It had merely been a phrase, used in order to console the poor woman.
A boot, thrown by an expert hand, flew through the half-open door right against Marianna's apron. She gave a loud scream and let the tray fall; the sweetened coffee ran over her feet and along the stone passage. "Psia krew!" A second boot came flying. Tiralla sitting on the edge of his bed angling with his bare feet for his slippers, which had disappeared under the bed.
Tiralla shouted with a loud voice, "Little Böhnke, heigh, little Böhnke. Psia krew! where are your ears?" The schoolmaster gave a start. He hesitated for a moment; there was the corner, should he not get out of the way quickly, as though he had not heard the call? However, he crossed the street. There sat Mr.
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