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Updated: May 7, 2025
There he was, dangling, quite blue in the face and with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. How awful, how terrible! She did not give herself time to consider whether he was alive or not, or whether he would recover; all she did was to look round for help. At that moment Mikolai returned. He stood motionless, staring with open mouth, the hatchet in his hand.
But with whom? The man was tall, taller than Mikolai. A deadly fear overpowered her; she would not stand that, she had better run downstairs. But it was not Becker, he had not that clumsy, rolling gait, he was much more erect. But even if it were not he, how she envied the girl down there. She pressed both hands to her face; she would not look at them, she would not listen to their whispers.
She heard Martin's voice downstairs, and then Mikolai and then her mother's happy laugh. But Rosa continued to pray fervently; it was as though she were holding fast to the words of her prayer. The stars had long ago come out above the farm, the new moon was just over the gable, but she still lay on her knees praying.
As they sat at supper that evening, Martin Becker began to speak of going away. You could see that it was very difficult for him to give notice, he could hardly get it out; his face was burning and he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Mikolai had just returned from the fair in high spirits, but his good humour now quickly disappeared. What, Martin wanted to leave what was the meaning of it?
They had both gone, and probably together. Nothing else was of any consequence to her at the present moment. Let Mikolai think what he liked, it was perfectly immaterial to her. "Where can Becker be?" she asked impatiently. It grieved him very much to think that his old father, of whom he was so fond, should drink like that. It was fortunate that his mother had not lived to see it.
He was certainly not like Rosa, who had only one foot on earth, and who used to dream with open eyes, and believed implicitly what was told her. If anything were to happen, it must happen before Mikolai returned to his father. Mrs. Tiralla made up her mind to get out of bed; nobody would see or hear her now. She had sent Rosa to another room, she could not bear to have anybody with her.
If you had a sharp ear you could hear somebody speaking in a subdued voice, almost a whisper, and a gurgling sound as though they were drinking quickly and then putting their glasses down. Mikolai flew into a rage; he felt just in the humour to pitch the fellow out. He was ruining his father entirely. Mikolai lifted the latch angrily, but the door did not yield, it was locked.
But they could not run away together, and so he, too, must stay to please her. It was not easy; it was no honour to serve such a fellow, as he had done now for well-nigh three-quarters of a year. But he was doing it to please Mikolai and her yes, her. He had to stop. The woman now cast a look at him as though she had guessed his thoughts.
She stretched out her arms as she gave the beloved name into the care of the winds. Then she saw him coming. He was alone, for Mikolai, who had gone to confession with him, had stopped at the booths behind the church. He came quickly along the edge of the field, as though he were in a hurry. The woman smiled ah, he was longing to see her, as she him.
Look, look!" She seized her brother's hand, and he shuddered at the peculiar expression in her eyes, that had become even more fixed than before. "I see mother in a white dress oh, how beautiful she looks I see her flying up to heaven but look, look! There are spots on the hem of her dress. All those dark spots do you see them, Mikolai? are dragging her down.
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