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Updated: June 23, 2025
All the man could do was to bend over her hand and whisper in a hoarse voice: "Certainly, if you wish it, Mrs. Tiralla." They had adorned all the saints in the house, as well as the image of the Holy Virgin in the niche over the gateway, with the clover and cornflowers.
Tell me, my Sophia, what's happened to you?" "What on earth has happened to you? Tell me." The woman's black eyes stared at him out of her pale face. "Holy Mother, the rats again!" she stammered, and stretched out her hands as though she wanted to seize hold of something. Then Mr. Tiralla burst out laughing. "Rats?
Rosa had only given one short scream, and then, with upraised hands, had fallen down in a deep faint. Mrs. Tiralla was the only one who remained calm. Was Mr. Tiralla dead? "He's not dead yet." It was Martin who spoke, and she heard what he said without answering a word. She closed her eyes; how compassionate his voice the beloved's voice sounded. Did he feel sorry for her or himself?
Then he added, "No, I'm not angry with you, in spite of your not having been to see me for so long. Take a seat, brother, there, sit down." He dragged a chair nearer with his heavy foot, and smiled at the schoolmaster, who was sitting near him with such a pale face and such hollow eyes. "Drink, friend, drink," said Mr. Tiralla, as he seized his glass and finished it in one gulp. "Pooh!"
She drew a deep breath, tore the door open, took a run and rushed downstairs. Where was he lying? Where should she find him? "Good morning," said Mr. Tiralla. He was in a good humour and was just coming out of his room. His eyes were still full of sleep and he was rubbing them. But his eyes were quite clear, they still saw the light of day. The woman started back as though she had seen a ghost.
Was the woman sad? It seemed so. True, Mr. Tiralla was no longer a young husband, and he was not a handsome one, but had not the woman a daughter who was so tall and so nearly grown-up that she could soon be a grandmother? Rosa had pleased the young man. When the girl had returned Mikolai's kiss at the station, shyly and reservedly, but still warmly and heartily, he had almost envied his friend.
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.
Tiralla which had made her blush and lower her dark eyes without knowing the reason why. Sophia Kluge was modest; no young fellow in the neighbourhood could boast of being in her good graces. She did not even know why the lads and lasses used to steal out into the fields in the evenings, and why their tender songs should rise so plaintively to the starry skies.
She felt she must convince this man, just this man, that it was terrible, and then She closed her eyes for a moment as though she felt dizzy. An intense joy took possession of her. She was still "the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla." Whatever he might think at the present moment, he would learn to think differently.
Tiralla also raised his glass and bawled at the top of his voice, so that everybody could hear it, "Your health, little Böhnke. Have you nothing to drink? Come here, sonny, you can get something from me. Dalej, dalej, why aren't you coming?" All eyes were fixed on the schoolmaster, who said "Thanks" in a curt voice and without looking at the farmer, but did not move.
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