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Updated: June 24, 2025
Martin was nowhere to be seen, and this was not his bedroom door; this was Mr. Tiralla's, on which Mikolai was thumping, and before which he now stooped down and tried to look through the chinks. "I don't know, I don't know," cried Mikolai, shaking the handle once more. "There's a light burning in the room; but everything is so quiet, and father isn't snoring." "Oh, leave him!"
"I want to be alone, I must be alone, I'm safest when I'm quite alone." Then he sighed again, and his swollen eyes glimmered as he cast a restless look around. The schoolmaster sighed too; dear, dear, the man was quite out of his mind. It must be true what they were saying in Starawieś, that Becker had become Mrs. Tiralla's lover. Confound it! "May I offer you my arm, Mr.
Tiralla's were not at liberty by that time. She hastily stuck her feet out of bed. She would slip over to the lumber-room now and fetch it out of the chest. She would not let Marianna take it to him any more, she would give it to him herself tomorrow, either in his coffee or wine. She put her feet on the floor with a jerk. But all at once she felt she could not walk; her limbs refused to move.
He had drunk a considerable amount during the course of the evening, and he went on drinking during supper: a glass of Tokay with the salad, beer with the roast pork and duck, and now he ordered a bottle of Moselle with the vanilla ice. Others followed his example. Count Jagodziúski would not be satisfied with anything less than champagne, for Mr. Tiralla's silver was burning a hole in his pocket.
The balmy air blew in through the open window and fanned her bare shoulders, neck, and arms. It felt like a soft hand, and she held her breath as it caressed her. Oh, yes. She had to laugh. A voice within her seemed to say, "You still look like a girl and you are still like a girl." And when she came to think of it, was she Mr. Tiralla's wife in the eyes of God? No.
It was as though gaiety personified had entered Starydwór. The schoolmaster clenched his fist and shook it at the wagon, and still he would have given his life to have been in the procession and have taken part in Mrs. Tiralla's joy. "How happy she is," he murmured, turning away. He walked past Mr. Tiralla with a gesture of loathing, and without saying good-bye.
Tiralla's voice at the hotel door at the same moment as the carriage rattled out of the yard and round the corner. She got in without help; the schoolmaster had disappeared, swallowed up by the darkness. He was a heavy weight and the man's shoulders and arms ached, but he was pleased to help the gentleman. That good Mr. Tiralla Heaven bless him had given him a new two-shilling bit as a tip.
But he took no more notice of her, his eyes were fixed on the door. The man he had chosen for his little daughter must come that way. He stared and grinned, and then turned up the whites of his eyes. At that moment something cracked either in the wall or stove that sounded like a knock. Aha! he was knocking already. "Come in." All at once Mr. Tiralla's tongue again obeyed him.
They were standing like a pair of lovers, almost melted into one; her head was lying on his breast as though welded to it by the pressure of his arms. Thus her eyes and ears were closed, and he he only felt her. At that moment the door of Mr. Tiralla's room was gently opened and the old man stuck his head out timidly. Had his little Böhnke, his friend, succeeded in escaping?
At last he had really seen that things must take their course. When they reached the farm the house lay in darkness. There was only a light in Mr. Tiralla's room to the right of the passage; they could see it shining through the closed shutters. What, was that confounded Böhnke there again?
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