United States or Peru ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Nobody interfered, for every one was horribly afraid Big Jan would turn upon him. Besides, was not he the Boss, and could he not say Go, and then must not a man go, short of pay, and with his wife and children crying? Of a verity! The Butterfly Man slipped off his knapsack and laid his net aside. Then he pushed his way through the scared onlookers. "Meester Fleent!
In passing one morning it was a holiday through the Poles' quarters, an unpleasant enough stretch which other folks religiously avoided, the Butterfly Man heard shrieks coming from Michael Karski's back yard. It was Michael's wife and children who screamed. "It is the Boss who beats Michael, Meester Fleent," a man volunteered. "The Boss, he is much drunk.
It's the Butterfly Man, marmar!" squealed a child. "A-a-h! Talk weeth us, Meester Fleent!" For the first time a "hand" felt that he might speak out openly in Appleboro. John Flint stood there staring owlishly at all these people who ought to know very well that he hadn't anything to say: what should he have to say? He was embarrassed; he was also most horribly frightened.
People I had never been able to get at humanly, people who resisted even Madame, not only chose to open their doors but their mouths, to Meester Fleent. Uncouth fumbling men, slip-shod women, dirty-faced children, were never dumb and suspicious or wholly untruthful and evasive, where the Butterfly Man was concerned.
For God's love, save my man, Meester Flint!" Michael's wife Katya screamed at him. By way of answer Meester Fleent very deliberately handed her his eye-glasses. Then one saw that his eyes, slitted in his head, were cold and bright as a snake's; his chin thrust forward, and in his red beard his lips made a straight line like a clean knife-cut. Two bright red spots had jumped into his tanned cheeks.
Meester Fleent was a great and a good man; but he was a crippled man. Death was very close to him. Big Jan was not too drunk to fight savagely, but he was in a most horrible rage, and this weakened him. He meant to kill this impudent fellow who had taken Michael away from him before he had half-finished with him.
Although pale, and still somewhat shaky as to legs, Jan had willingly enough shaken hands with his conqueror. It seemed quite right and natural that he and Jan should presently enter into a sort of Dual Alliance. Meester Fleent was to be Arbitrator Extraordinary. When he stipulated that thereafter Big Jan was only to tackle a man his own size, everybody cheered madly, and Mrs.
And we went, and wondered, afterwards, what particularly tender guardian angels kept close company with our Butterfly Man. Then occurred the great event which put Meester Fleent in a place apart in the estimation of all Appleboro, forever settled his status among the mill-hands and the "hickeys," and incidentally settled a tormenting doubt of himself in his own mind.
Word Of The Day