Selected Polish Tales Part 25

About noon two colonists came to the gospodarstwo and asked Slimak to sell them b.u.t.ter and potatoes and hay. He let them have the former without bargaining, but he refused the hay.

'Let us at least have a cartload of straw,' they asked with their foreign accent.

'I won't. I haven't got any.'

The men got angry.

'That scoundrel Hamer is giving us no end of trouble,' one cried, das.h.i.+ng his cap on the ground; 'he told us we should get fodder and everything at the farms. We can't get any at the manor either; the Jews from the inn are there and won't stir from the place.'

Just as they were leaving, a brichka drove up containing the two Hamers, whose faces were now quite familiar to Slimak. The colonists rushed to the vehicle with shouts and explanations, gesticulating wildly, pointing hither and thither, and talking in turns, for even in their excitement they seemed to preserve system and order.

The Hamers remained perfectly calm, listening patiently and attentively, until the others were tired of shouting. When they had finished, the younger man answered them at some length, and at last they shook hands and the colonists took up their sacks of potatoes and departed cheerfully.

'How are you, gospodarz?' called the elder man to Slimak. 'Shall we come to terms yet?'

'What's the use of talking, father?' said the other; 'he will come to us of his own accord!'

'Never!' cried Slimak, and added under his breath: 'They are dead set on me--the vermin! Queer folk!' he observed to his wife, looking after the departing brichka, 'when our people are quarrelling, they don't stop to listen, but these seem to understand each other all the same and to smooth things over.'

'What are you always cracking up the Swabians for, you old silly?'

returned his wife. 'You don't seem to remember that they want to take your land away from you.... I can't make you out!'

'What can they do to me? I won't let them have it, and they can't rob me.'

'Who knows? They are many, and you are only one.'

'That's G.o.d's will! I can see they have more sense than I have, but when it comes to holding on, there I can match them! Look at all the woodp.e.c.k.e.rs on that little tree; that tree is like us peasants. The squire sits and hammers, the parish sits and hammers, the Jews and the Germans sit and hammer, yet in the end they all fly away and the tree is still the tree.'

The evening brought a visit from old Sobieska, who stumbled in with her demand of a 'thimbleful of whisky'.

'I nearly gave up the ghost,' she cried, 'I've run so fast to tell you the news.'

She was rewarded with a thimble which a giant could well have worn on his finger.

'Oh, Lord!' she cried, when she had drained it, 'this is the judgment day for some people in the village! You see, Gryb and Orzchewski had always taken for granted that the colonists wouldn't come, and they had meant to drive a little bargain between them and keep some of the best land and settle Jasiek Gryb on it like a n.o.bleman, and he was to marry Orzchewski's Paulinka. You know, she had learnt embroidery from the squire's wife, and Jasiek had been doing work in the bailiff's office and now goes about in an overcoat on high-days and holidays and...give me another thimbleful, or I shall feel faint and can't talk....

Meanwhile, as I told you, the colonists had paid down half the money to the Jew, and here they are, that's certain! When Gryb hears of it, he comes and abuses Josel! "You cur of a Jew, you Caiaphas, you have crucified Christ and now you are cheating me! You told me the Germans wouldn't pay up, and here they are!" Whereupon Josel says: "We don't know yet whether they will stay!" At first Gryb wouldn't listen and shouted and banged his fists on the table, but at last Josel drew him off to his room with Orzchewski, and they made some arrangement among themselves.'

'He's a fool,' said Slimak; 'he wasn't cute enough to buy the land, he won't be able to cope with the Germans.'

'Not cute enough?' cried the old woman. 'Give me a thimbleful...Josel's clever enough, anyway...and his brother-in-law is even better...they'll deal with the Swabians...I know what I know...give me a thimbleful...give me a thim...' She became incoherent.

'What was that she was saying?' asked Slimakowa.

'The usual things she says when she's tipsy. She is in service with Josel, so she thinks him almighty.'

When night came, Slimak again went to look at the camp. The people had retired under their awnings, the cattle were lying down inside the square, only the horses were grazing in the fields and ravines. At times a flame from the camp fires flared up, or a horse neighed; from hour to hour the call of a sleepy watchman was heard.

Slimak returned and threw himself on his bed, but could find no rest.

The darkness deprived him of energy, and he thought with fear of the Germans who were so many and he but one. Might they not attack him or set his house on fire?

About midnight a shot rang out, followed by another. He ran into the back-yard and came upon the equally frightened Maciek. Shouts, curses, and the clatter of horses' hoofs came from beyond the river. Gradually the noise subsided.

Slimak learned in the morning from the colonists that horse-thieves had stolen in among the horses.

The peasant was taken aback. Never before had such a thing happened in the neighbourhood.

The news of the attack spread like wildfire and was improved upon in every village. It was said that there was a gang of horse-stealers about, who removed the horses to Prussia; that the Germans had fought with them all night, and that some had been killed.

At last these rumours reached the ears of the police-sergeant, who harnessed his fat mare, put a small cask and some empty bags into his cart, and drove off in pursuit of the thieves.

The Germans treated him to smoked ham and excellent brandy, and Fritz Hamer explained that they suspected two discharged manor-servants, Kuba Sukiennik and Jasiek Eogacz, of stealing the horses.

'They have been arrested before for stealing locks off the doors, but had to be released because there were no witnesses,' said the sergeant.

'Which of the gentlemen shot at them? Has he a licence to carry firearms?'

Hamer, seeing that the question was becoming ticklish, led him aside and explained things so satisfactorily to him that he soon drove off, recommending that watch should be kept, and that the colonists should not carry firearms.

'I suppose your farm will soon be standing, sir?' he asked.

'In a month's time,' replied Hamer.

'Capital!...we must make a day of it!'

He drove on to the manor-house, where Hirschgold's agent was so delighted to see him that he brought out a bottle of Crimean wine. On the topic of thieves, however, he had no explanation to offer.

'When I heard them shooting I at once s.n.a.t.c.hed up my revolvers, one in each hand, and I didn't close my eyes all night.'

'And have you a licence to carry firearms?'

'Why shouldn't I?'

'For two?'

'Oh well, the second is broken; I only keep it for show.'

'How many workmen do you employ?'

'About a hundred.'

'Are all their pa.s.sports in order?'

The agent gave him a most satisfactory account as to this in his own way and the sergeant took leave.

'Be careful, sir,' he recommended, 'once robbery begins in the village it will be difficult to stop it. And in case of accident you will do well to let me know first before you do anything.' He said this so impressively that the agent henceforward took the two Jews from the manor-house to sleep in the bailiff's cottage.

Slimak's gospodarstwo was the sergeant's next destination. Slimakowa was just pouring out the peeled-barley soup when the stout administrator of the law entered.

'The Lord be praised,' he said. 'What news?'