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Updated: May 7, 2025
The man cast an anxious look at the streak of light which found its way through the shutters; it seemed twice as broad as usual. What was the old man up to? Seized with an unaccountable uneasiness, Mikolai groped in the dark passage for the door-handle. "Psia krew!" Of course, it was locked on the inside. He knocked; then he called, "Father!" He rattled the handle. "The deuce, why can't you open?"
Yes, he could well believe it, it does one good to be happy. She had slowly retreated; now she was again standing in the light. He saw that she was escaping from him, and still he could not hold her. At that moment Mikolai approached. "Where are you, mother?" The others now also appeared; the schoolmaster saw her surrounded by figures in light garments as through a mist.
So he said, "The snow has come, now you'll soon be going," and cast a covert glance at his friend to see what he would say to it. Martin answered quite simply, "I shall soon be going." "There's still a fortnight," said Mikolai.
"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.
At first he had opened his eyes in surprise, but then he had pressed his hands to his head and groaned, "I would never have thought it; oh, dear, if I had only known it!" What a good fellow Mikolai was. He would in time be just what his father used to be. And Marianna was more attentive than ever to him. Meanwhile Mikolai went about looking very troubled.
It was as though a light had risen for her in the dark stables, and as though she must thank the dead man for it as well as the saints. Mikolai was not so calm, the calamity had affected him deeply. His father, his old father. And he had died in all his sins without the consecrated candle, without a priest, and without absolution. He could not compose himself, he sobbed so.
But instead of that he had to be hoisted up into the cart and driven at a walking pace along the pitch-dark road, so that he, Mikolai, was frozen and wet to the skin and felt thoroughly annoyed. What could she see in the schoolmaster to make her so patient and calm that she put up with his visits, which were certainly not doing his father any good?
Mikolai still harped on this, and it was this disappointment that grieved him most of all. Why did Martin not care for Rosa? As they were returning home together in the early twilight, Mikolai once more took courage. He was certainly not going to offer Rosa again to Becker he felt too sorry for her to do that but he wanted to hear why his beautiful plan could not be realized.
She stood erect before him with sparkling eyes and head thrown back. "Ask Marianna, ask Mikolai; he, Mr. Tiralla, took the poison himself in the stables; we found it still in his hand. I I" she struck her breast and again raised her fingers to swear "I'm innocent of it. The saints have willed it." He looked her full in the face scrutinizingly, as though he would pierce her with his eyes.
After praying and weeping for a long time, weeping so bitterly and so copiously that her face and hands and even her bosom were quite wet with tears, she rose. She had made up her mind. Mikolai was coming to-morrow, therefore quick, at the eleventh hour. She would throw some of them to the poultry that very evening when they were hungry. And if they died what a pity it would be about them then Mr.
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