Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 23, 2025
How dared he accuse her? Was it she, she, who had given Mr. Tiralla poison? And even if she had attempted to do so before, the poison had no longer been poison in her hands, for the mushrooms had not harmed him, and the corn had not harmed the poultry. "No, I'm innocent, quite innocent of it." The saints had willed it, they had put into his mind to take some of the powder and swallow it.
So it would be difficult for her to blacken him in the priest's eyes, as he very well knew what a healthy man required. Mr. Tiralla stretched his mighty limbs and opened his arms wide. Then he said, "Just come here, darling." "What do you want?" The man's spirit of enterprise vanished as he heard her icy tone. "Why don't you speak more kindly to me?" he said despondently.
She had always worn shoes and stockings as a child, and had been as dainty-looking as a doll; but her little bread-basket had been as empty as a barn before harvest. She had been as thin as a church mouse in those days. The schoolmaster saw Mrs. Tiralla give her husband a second look, but there was more than disdain in her look this time something else gleamed in the depths of those dark eyes.
Tiralla sat staring in front of him without saying a word, or taking any interest in what was going on. It was as though he were no longer one of them. Yes, the man was in a bad state of health, they all saw that. What had the doctor said? They had not had one so far, said Mrs. Tiralla, casting down her eyes.
Tiralla noticed that he was listening intently to what Marianna was saying she grew as red as she before had been pale. Then, with a short, forced laugh, she said, "Nonsense. Poison? Where should you have got it from? You're raving, my girl. Come," she added, helping the girl to rise, "lean on my arm. You're already better, aren't you? I'll put you to bed. I'll make you a strong cup of tea.
There, now put the stone into its place again. Nobody would guess what was lying behind it. Now the spiders could again weave a close web in front of it like a veil, and nobody would spoil it for them. H'm, that was very well done, said Mr. Tiralla to himself, with a satisfied growl. Let Sophia look and look until she was blind, she would never find them ha, ha! He laughed hoarsely to himself.
Tiralla was asleep, she would say to him, "I thank you." How she longed to say to him, "I thank you for coming to Starydwór, I thank you for coming as a deliverer. Look, I've become cleansed through you. But would he understand her? No, how could he, for what did he know?
Tiralla would sit by her child's bed. She would hold her hand a small, narrow, delicate-looking hand with blue veins and they would whisper together about the joys of Paradise. Whilst all around was joyless the dark night, the lonely farm buried in deep snow, the solitude in which a soul so often gets lost those two would whisper together about the joys of Paradise about nothing else.
Tiralla was whistling in the yard. Rosa and he were feeding the poultry, and the birds were pecking and scraping and cackling and quarrelling, as they greedily looked for the yellow corn that had been scattered to them. The woman stared at the two from her window with burning eyes. There they stood, Mr. Tiralla so broad and beaming.
But very soon Mrs. Tiralla took entire possession of his thoughts. He looked around and listened for her step, and strained his eyes so in the dark that they watered. Was he to leave the house without a single kiss? Psia krew, he would not do that. He swore in an undertone, for he had suddenly grown brutal. He would be paid, paid for every visit.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking