The Pobratim Part 13

When he was at a few paces from Uros he stopped, and with a scowl upon his face he muttered:

"Those medals were not blessed, so you can use your dagger now, if you like, and I shall use my tongue, we shall see which of us two will suffer most; anyhow, remember the proverb, 'Where the goat breathes, even the vine withers.'"

Then, stooping down, he gathered a handful of stones and flung them with all his might at Uros, after which he took to his heels and ran off with all his might.

The stones went hissing by Uros, but one of them caught him on his brow, grazing off the skin and covering his eyes with blood. Uros, blinded by the stone, remained standing for a while, and then, seeing that Vranic had run off, he went up to Milena's door and tapped lightly.

"Milena," said he, "have you heard the quarrel I have had with Vranic?"

"Yes, did he hurt you?"

"Only a mere scratch."

"Nothing more?"

"No."

"Surely?"

"No, indeed!"

Milena would willingly have opened the door to see if Uros was only scratched, but she was in too great a trepidation to do so.

"Well," added she, "if you are not hurt, please go away."

"But are you not afraid Vranic might come back?"

"Well, and if he does? He'll find the door shut as before. Moreover, I'm by no means afraid of him, he is the greatest coward, or at least the only coward, of the town; therefore do not stay here on my account, you can do me no good."

"Then you do not want me?" said Uros, in a lingering way, and with a sigh.

"No; go," quoth she. "If you love me, go."

Uros turned his back on the cottage and wended his steps homewards.

The moon was now rising above the hills in the distance. Milena went to the window and looked at the young man going off. Her heart yearned after him as he went, and she fain would have called him back.

Poor fellow, he had fought for her, he was wounded, and now she let him go off like that. It was not right. Was his wound but a scratch?

She ought to have seen after it. It was very ungrateful of her not to have looked after it.

All at once Uros stopped. Her heart began to beat. He turned round and came back on his steps. At first she was delighted, then she was disappointed. She wished he had not turned back.

He walked back slowly and stealthily, trying to m.u.f.fle his steps.

What was he going to do?

Milena ran to the door and put her ear close to the key-hole.

She heard Uros come up to the very sill and then it seemed to her that he had sat or crouched upon the step.

Was he hurt? Was he going to stay there and watch over the house like a faithful dog?

She waited a while; not the slightest sound was heard; she could hardly keep still. At last, unable to bear it any longer:

"Uros," said she, "is that you?"

"Yes."

"And what are you doing there?"

"I was going to watch over you."

Overcome by this proof of the young man's love, Milena slowly opened the door, and taking Uros by both his hands she made him come in.

The wind did not rise and the brigantine rode still at anchor in the bay. The days pa.s.sed, and at last merry Christmas was drawing near.

The _pobratim_--though anxious to be off--hoped that the calm weather would last for a week longer, that they might pa.s.s the _badnji-vecer_--or the evening of the log--and Christmas Day with their parents.

Their wishes were granted; one day pa.s.sed after the other and the weather was always most beautiful. Not the slightest cloud came either to dim or enhance the limpid blue sky, and though the mornings were now rather fresh, the days were, as yet, delightfully warm and radiant with suns.h.i.+ne. In the gardens the oleanders were all in full bloom, so were also the roses, the geraniums and the China asters; whilst in the field many a daisy was seen glinting at the modest speedwell, and the Dalmatian convolvulus entwined itself lovingly around the haughty acanthus, which spread out their fretted leaves to the sun, taking up as much s.p.a.ce as well they could, while in damp places the tall, feathery gra.s.ses grew amidst the sedges, the reeds, and the rushes and all kinds of rank weeds of glowing hues. Not a breath of wind came to ripple the surface of the s.h.i.+ning blue waters.

On the 24th a little cloud was seen far off, the colour of the waters grew by degrees of a dull leaden tint, and the wind began to moan. In the meanwhile the cloudlet that had been the size of a weasel grew to be as big as a camel, then it swelled out into the likeness of some huge megatherium, it rolled out its ma.s.sy coils and overspread the whole s.p.a.ce of the sky. Then the clouds began to lower, and seemed to cover the earth with a ponderous lid. The wind and the cold having increased, the summer all at once pa.s.sed away into dreary and bleak winter.

Christmas was to be kept at Milos Bellacic's house, for though the two families had always been on the most friendly terms, they, since the day upon which the two young men had become _pobratim_, got to be almost one family. Some other friends had been asked to come and make merry with them on that evening. Amongst other guests Zwillievic, Milena's father, who was a cousin of Bellacic's, having come with his wife to spend the Christmas holidays at Budua, had accepted his kinsman's hospitality. Milena had also been asked to come and pa.s.s those days merrily with her parents.

At nightfall, all the guests being already a.s.sembled, the yule-log, the huge bole of an olive tree, was, with great ado, brought to the house. Bellacic, standing on the threshold with his cap in his hand, said to it:

"Welcome log, and may G.o.d watch over you."

Then, taking the _bucara_ or wooden bottle, he began to sprinkle it with wine, forming a cross as he did so, then he threw some wheat upon it, calling a blessing upon his house, and upon all his guests, who stood grouped behind him, after which all the guests answered in chorus, "And so be it." Thereupon all the men standing outside the house fired off their guns and pistols to show their joy, shouting: "May Christmas be welcome to you."

After this Uros brought in his own log and the same ceremony had once more to be gone through.

The logs were then festively placed upon the hearth, where they had to burn the whole night, and even till the next morning.

In the meantime a copious supper was prepared and set upon the table.

In the very midst, taking the place of an _epergne_, there was a large loaf, all trimmed up with ivy and evergreens, and in the centre of this loaf there were thrust three wax candles carefully twisted into one, so as to form a taper, which was lit in honour of the Holy Trinity. Christmas Eve being a fast day, the meal consisted of fish cooked in different ways.

First, there was a pillau with scallops, then cod--which is always looked upon as the staple fare of evening--after which followed pickled tunny, eels, and so forth. The _starescina_, taking a mouthful of every dish that was brought upon the table, went to throw it upon the burning log, so that it might bring him a prosperous year; his son then followed his example.

After all had eaten and were filled, they gathered around the hearth and squatted down upon the straw with which the floor was strewn --for, in honour of Christ, the room had been made to look as much as possible like a manger, or a stable. They again greeted each other with the usual compliments, "for many years," and so forth, and black coffee was served in Turkish fas.h.i.+on, that is, in tiny cups, held by a kind of silver, or silvered metal, egg-cup instead of a saucer.

Most everyone loosened his girdle, some took off their shoes, and all made themselves comfortable for the night. Thereupon Milenko, who was somewhat of a bard and who had studied an epic song for the occasion, one of those heroic and wild _junaske_, took his _guzla_, and gave the company the story of "Marko Kraglievic and the Moor of Primorye," as follows:--

KRAGLIEVIC MARKO I CRNI ARAPIN.

An Arab lord had once in Primorye, A mighty castle by the spray-swept sh.o.r.e; Its many lofty halls were bright and gay, And Moorish lads stood watching at each door.

Albeit its wealth, mirth never echoed there; Its lord was p.r.o.ne to be of pensive mood, And oft his frown would freeze the very air; On secret sorrow he e'er seemed to brood.

At times to all his _svati_ would he say: "What do I care for all this wide domain, Or for my guards on steeds in bright array?

Much more than dazzling pomp my heart would fain Have some fond tie so that the time might seem Less tedious in its flight. I am alone.

A mother's heart, a sister's, or, I deem, A bride's would be far more than all I own."

Thus unto him his liegemen made reply: "O, mighty lord! they say that Russia's Czar Has for his heir, a daughter meek and shy, Of beauty rare, just like the sparkling star That gleams at dawn and s.h.i.+nes at eventide.