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Was the woman sad? It seemed so. True, Mr. Tiralla was no longer a young husband, and he was not a handsome one, but had not the woman a daughter who was so tall and so nearly grown-up that she could soon be a grandmother? Rosa had pleased the young man. When the girl had returned Mikolai's kiss at the station, shyly and reservedly, but still warmly and heartily, he had almost envied his friend.
So they walked along in silence through the soft mud and deep ruts, each on his side of the road. Mikolai's eyes suddenly felt wet. The deuce, what was that? He rubbed them angrily, but they were wet the next moment again. Here, here they had driven last summer only a few months ago with hay and flowers on the wagon, and had been so gay. And now? His lips trembled, he felt unstrung.
Why did Mikolai's stepmother look at him so penetratingly? Was she not pleased that he had come? He dared not look up, he felt her eyes resting on him the whole time. He felt hot and cold in turns. What black eyes the woman had. How stupid that the old man should get drunk now. He simply longed for Mr.
The woman tore it out of his hand, swung it like lightning, the sharp edge cut the noose and Mr. Tiralla fell on the floor with a dull thud. It was a terrible night at Starydwór. Everybody had come running, awakened by the noise of the falling door and Mikolai's cries. Marianna howled as though she were out of her mind; both she and Mikolai had lost their self-command.
The whole summer had passed by; the swallows had departed long ago, but the son was flying back to the paternal nest and was bringing somebody else with him; four more eyes to pry on her. She was tormented with a great fear when she thought of Mikolai's return. He had keen eyes, he was not stupid.
And when he had finished his prayer and made the sign of the cross, he pressed her hand and then Mikolai's. The three put their heads together like the terrified lambs of a flock over which a storm is raging. "Eternal rest give to him, Lord," whispered Rosa, and the two men murmured in response, "and let perpetual light shine upon him." Then Martin got up from his knees and went to the door.
Still no answer, and no bolt was withdrawn. He shook the door with all his strength. "I shall break the door open if you don't unlock it at once." The door creaked and groaned, and Mikolai's loud voice echoed through the house, so that one would have thought it would have awakened the dead bat there was no sound in the room. Then a fear gripped him; what should he do now?
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