The Pobratim Part 24

Radonic would return in a few months; then he would kill her. That, at least, would put a stop to her misery. But the thought of having to live for months in mortal dread was worse than death itself. The maddest thoughts came to her mind. She would leave Budua, dress up as a boy, go off to Cattaro, embark for some distant town. And then?

Far away the people spoke a gibberish she could not understand, and they were heathens, who even ate meat on fast-days. These thoughts, in her loneliness, were almost driving her to distraction, when, unexpectedly, her husband came back home. His s.h.i.+p, in a tempest, had been dashed against a reef, off the sh.o.r.es of Ustica, the westernmost of the aeolian Islands. Not only the vessel, but also the cargo, and even two sailors, were lost.

On seeing her husband appear before her, Milena felt all her blood freeze within her veins. She had disliked Radonic from the very first moment she had cast her eyes upon him; since her marriage her antipathy had increased with his ill-treatment, so that now she positively loathed him.

Still, when the first moment of almost insurmountable dread was over, she heaved a deep sigh of relief. His return was a G.o.dsend to her.

Had he not just come in time to save her from ignominy? She even mastered herself so far as to make Radonic believe that she was glad to see him, that she was longing for his return, and for a while he believed it. Still, when his mouth was pressed on hers, as he clasped her fondly in his arms, the kiss he gave her now was even worse than the first one she had received from him on her wedding-day. It seemed as if he had seared her lips with burning, cauterising steel. After a day or two, she could not keep up this degrading comedy any longer; her whole being revolted against it in such a way that Radonic himself could not help noticing how obnoxious his presence was to her.

She was, however, glad about one thing. Her husband, having lost his large vessel and all his costly cargo, for he had of late been trading on his own account, would not be able to settle down in Budua, as he had intended doing; then, being now quite poor, people would not be envying her any more. What good had her husband's riches done to her? None at all.

Even in that she was doomed to disappointment. The widow of one of the sailors who had got drowned at Ustica came to beg for a pittance.

She had several little children at home clamouring for bread. Milena gave her some flour and some oil, and promised to speak to her husband.

"But," said she, "we, too, are very poor now."

"Poor!" replied the woman. "Why, you are richer now than you ever were."

"How, if we've lost our s.h.i.+p with all its cargo?"

"Yes, but it was insured."

"Insured? What's that?"

"You mustn't ask me, for I'm only a poor ignorant woman. Only they say that when a s.h.i.+p is insured, you get far more money for it than it was ever really worth."

"And who is to give you money for a few planks rotting at the bottom of the sea, or some stray spars washed ash.o.r.e?" asked Milena, incredulously.

"Who? Ah! that's more than I can tell. Anyhow, I know it's true, for all that."

Milena, astonished, stared at the poor woman. She asked herself whether grief had not muddled the widow's brain. No, she did not look insane.

"Who told you such foolish things, my poor Stosija?" said she, enquiringly, after a while; "for you know very well that you are speaking nonsense."

"It is no nonsense, for the _pop_ himself told me."

Milena's bewilderment increased.

"Moreover, the priest added that insurances are one of the many sacrilegious inventions which lead men to perdition." Then, lowering her voice to a whisper: "They have a pact with Satan."

Milena drew back appalled.

"When a s.h.i.+p is insured the owners care very little what becomes of the precious lives they have on board. The captains themselves get hardened. They do not light any more tapers to St. Nicholas to send them prosperous gales; the priests offer no more prayers for their safety; and, as for silver _ex-votos_, why, no one thinks of them any more. The _pop_ is so angry that he says, if he had his own way, he'd excommunicate every captain, even every sailor, embarking on an insured s.h.i.+p."

"Mercy on us!" quoth Milena, crossing herself repeatedly.

"In fact, since all these new-fangled, heathenish inventions, you hear of nothing but fires on land and s.h.i.+pwrecks at sea. People once went to bed as soon as it was dark; at eight o'clock every fire and every light was put out. Now, people will soon be turning night into day, as they do in Francezka and Vnetci (Venice), flying thus in the very face of G.o.d Himself. Now all the rotten s.h.i.+ps are sent to sea, where they founder at the very first storm. It isn't true, perhaps?"

"Aye, it must be true," sighed Milena, "if the _pop_ says so."

"Once fires and s.h.i.+pwrecks were sent as punishments to the wicked, or as trials to the good; now, with the insurances, G.o.d Himself has been deprived of His scourge. The wicked prosper, the rich grow richer, and as for the poor--even the Virgin Mary and all the saints turn a deaf ear to them."

Milena shook her head despondingly.

"For instance," continued Stosija, "would the miser's heart ever have been touched, had his barns been insured."

"What miser?" asked Milena.

"Is it possible that you don't know the story of 'Old Nor and the Miser'?"

"Oh! it's a story," added Milena, disappointed.

"Yes, it's a story, but it's true for all that, for it happened at Grohovo, and my grandfather, who was alive at that time, knew both the miser and the idiot. Well, the miser--who had as much money as his trees had leaves, and that is more than he could count--was one day brewing _rakee_, when an old man, who lived on the public charity, or in doing odd jobs that could be entrusted to him, stopped at his door.

"'I smell _rakee_,' said Old Nor" (ninny), "who, by-the-bye, was not quite such an idiot as he was believed to be.

"'Oh, you do!' quoth the miser, sneeringly.

"'Yes,' said Nor, his eyes twinkling and his mouth watering.

"'And I suppose you'd like to taste some?'

"'That I should; will you give me a sip?'

"'Why not?'

"Thereupon the miser dipped a small ladle in a kettle of boiling water and offered it to Old Nor.

"The idiot drank down the hot water without wincing.

"'It's good, isn't it?' asked the rich man.

"'Delicious!' and the old man smacked his lips.

"'It warms the pit of your stomach nicely?'

"'It even burns it.'

"'It's rare stuff, I can tell you; will you have some more?'

"'It's of your own brewing, one can see; I'll have some more.'

"The miser once more dipped the ladle in the hot water and offered it again to the beggar, who quaffed the contents unflinchingly.

"'You see, bad tongues say I'm a miser, but it's all slander; for when I like a fellow, I'd give him the s.h.i.+rt off my back, and I like you, Old Nor. Will you have another ladleful?'

"'Willingly,' and the ninny's eyes flashed.

"Thereupon he again swallowed up the scalding water, but not a muscle of his face twitched.