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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Heigh, stop!" He set out in pursuit of the man who had just gone out of the gate. Böhnke heard neither the calls nor the panting man who rushed after him. He was staggering across the fields as though intoxicated with joy, repeating the words, "My darling, my sweet one!" "It's I, Mikolai," he panted. "I'll teach you!"
So Mikolai, who suddenly thought with dread of having to work all alone at Starydwór, had recourse to begging. Had they not sworn to be like brothers, and not to leave each other if they could be of any use? Could Martin not see that it would be hard work, much too hard work for him quite alone here? "Father's health is failing," he said; "how long will he last?"
They did not let go of each other until they passed through the gateway leading into Starydwór. Now they were back at the farm again. Marianna was singing as she rattled the pots and pans, Mikolai stood laughing by the kitchen fire, but Rosa's face continued to wear a dreamy, radiant expression.
She did not notice her mother's eyes resting on her with a piercing expression; she did not feel the oppressive silence that reigned at supper that evening. Mrs. Tiralla kept an obstinate silence; she seemed so low-spirited that the men involuntarily became low-spirited, too that is, Mr. Tiralla and Mikolai.
Tiralla cooled her cheeks with water and smoothed her hair once more when the carriage drove into the yard with cracking of whips, rattling of wheels, and much hallooing. Mikolai was standing erect in front or was it not Mikolai who was driving so smartly, and who now drew up before the front door, whilst the horses were going at full trot, and jumped off?
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.
Yes, he should have something to eat and drink but from her hand. "Hi, where are you all? Sophia, Rosa, there's a postcard," shouted Mr. Tiralla. Doors banged. Then a jubilant cry was heard from Rosa. "He's coming, he's coming. Mikolai is coming to-morrow afternoon." To-morrow? Already? The listening woman shuddered with terror; it must be done then.
Mikolai noticed it, and made up his mind to send for a doctor to see his father, but his stepmother said what was the good of asking his advice? He would not be able to do anything after all.
It is God's will that the sun shall remain in the sky, for otherwise it would be dark night, and then I should die" then he would not go. He would remain, and then well, then? He uttered an incoherent prayer. He was sorry for Mikolai; he felt a stab in his heart when he heard him whistling. But he was glad he had not seen Rosa that day. If only he did not see her again. Martin shunned Rosa.
It would be a long time before they came back; he would be able to question her without being disturbed, talk to her and hear why her husband had not had any mushrooms. He ran as fast as he could. His coat-tails flapped in the wind like raven's wings. A sudden jealousy gripped him; Mr. Tiralla had spoken of a nice young fellow. And Mikolai was also a young fellow.
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