The Pobratim Part 31

"That's the reason why you are ready to deceive him, then?"

"What business had he to marry you? What would I not do for your love, Milena? Why, I'd give my soul to Satan, if he wanted it."

"I'm afraid it's no longer yours to give away. But come, Vranic, if you really are as fond of me as you pretend to be, have some pity on me, be kind; think how wretched my whole life has. .h.i.therto been, leave me alone, forget me."

"Ask me anything else but that. How can I forget you? How can I cease loving you, when I live only for you? I only see through your eyes."

"Then I'll ask Radonic to take me to Montenegro with him, and I'll remain with my family."

"And I'll follow you there. You don't understand all the strength of my love for you."

Thereupon, forgetting his usual prudence, he stepped up to her, and pa.s.sing his arm round her waist, he strained her to his breast, and wanted to kiss her. She wriggled and struggled, and tried to push him away.

"Unhand me," she said, alarmed; "unhand me at once, or I'll scream."

"Lot of good it'll do you. Come," he replied, "remember your promise.

I've kept my part, try and keep yours with good grace or----"

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"Or by the holy Virgin, it'll be so much the worse for you! I know----"

he stopped, and then he added: "In fact, I know what I know.

Remember, therefore, it is much better to have Vranic for your friend than for your foe."

"Mind, you think me a dove."

"I only know that women have long hair and little brains. Try and not be like most of them."

"Mind, I might for once have more brains than you; therefore, I entreat you, nay, I command you, not to try and see me to-morrow."

"As for that, I'll use my own discretion."

Saying these words, he went off, and left Milena alone. As soon as he had disappeared, she went in, and sank down on the hearth; there, leaning her elbows on her knees, she hid her face between her palms; then she began nursing her grief.

"They say I am happy," she muttered to herself, "because I am rich --though I have not a penny that I can call my own--because I can eat white bread every day. Yet would it not be better by far to be an animal and graze in the fields, than eat bread moistened with my own tears? Oh! why was I not born a man? Then, at least, I might have gone where I liked--done what I pleased.

"They think I am happy, because no one knows what my life has been; though, it is true, what is a woman's life amongst us?

"She toils in the field the whole of the live-long day, whilst her husband smokes his pipe. She is laden like a beast of burden; she is yoked to the plough with an ox or an a.s.s, and when they go to pasture she trudges home with the harness, to nurse the children or attend to household work. Meanwhile, her master leisurely chats with his friends at the inns, or listens to the _guzlar_.

"What is her food? The husks that dogs cannot eat, the bones which have already been picked. If Turkish women have no souls, they, at least, are not treated like beasts during their lifetime.

"Oh! holy Virgin, why was I not born a man?"

That evening Radonic came home more sullen and peevish than usual; still, he was sober. He sat down to supper, and Milena waited upon him. As soon as he had pushed his plate away:

"Have you seen Vranic to-day?" he asked, gruffly.

"I have," answered the wife, meekly.

"Ah, you have!" and he uttered a fearful oath.

Milena crossed herself.

"And where have you seen him?"

"He came here at the door."

"May he have a fit to-night," he grunted. Then, after a puff at his pipe: "And what did he say?"

"That you intended starting to-morrow morning for Montenegro, to buy _castradina_, and----"

Radonic gave such a mighty thump on the table that the _bukara_ was upset. It rolled and fell to the ground before it could be caught.

Milena hastened to pick it up, but the wine was spilt. The husband thereupon, not knowing how to vent his spite, gave a kick to the poor woman just as she stooped to pick it up. She slipped and fell sprawling to the ground, uttering a stifled groan. Then she got up, deathly pale, and went to sit down in a corner of the room, and began to cry unperceived.

"And what did you answer when he told you that I was starting?"

"I begged him to leave me in peace, and above all not to come to-morrow evening, if his life was dear to him."

"Ah! you begged him, did you? Well, if ever man was blessed with a foolish wife, I am."

A moment's silence followed, after which he added:

"What a fool a man is who gets married--above all, a sailor who takes as his wife a feather-brained creature, as you are. May G.o.d hurl a thunderbolt at me if I'd marry again were I but free."

Poor Milena did not reply, for she was inured to such taunts, Radonic being one of those men who pride themselves on speaking out their own minds. She kept crying quietly--not for the pain she felt, but because she dreaded the fatal consequences of the kick she had just received.

"Will you stop whimpering, or I'll come and give you something to cry for. It's really beyond all powers of endurance to hear a woman whine and a pig squeak; if there is a thing that drives me mad, it's that."

Thereupon Radonic began to puff at his pipe savagely, snarling and snorting as he smoked.

"And may I ask why you begged that double-faced, white-livered friend of yours not to come to-morrow evening?" he asked, after some minutes.

"Vranic was never a friend of mine," said Milena, proudly.

"Admitting he wasn't, still you haven't answered my question; but I suppose it doesn't suit you to answer, does it?"

"Why not? I begged him not to come because I was afraid some mischief might ensue, withal you promised me not to be rash."

"I promised you, did I? Anyhow, I find that you take a great interest in this friend of mine, far more than it becomes an honest woman."

Then, with a scowl and a sneer: "If you _are_ honest."

Milena winced, and grew deathly pale. She did not give her husband any answer, so he, after grunting and grumbling and smoking for some time, got up and went to bed. She, however, remained where she was seated--or rather crouched--for she knew that she could not sleep.

How could she sleep?

First, she was not feeling well. The kick she had received in her side had produced a slight, dull, gnawing soreness; moreover, she felt--or at least she fancied she could feel--a gnawing pain; it was not much of a pain, only it seemed as if a watch were ticking there within her. She shuddered and felt sick, a cold sweat gathered on her brow, and she trembled from head to foot.