The Pobratim Part 52

"Oh, to-morrow you'll be master on board again; but now, you know, you must do what I like, just as if you were my wife!"

"What! Your wife----"

But Uros did not let Mrs. Giulianic finish her question, for he insisted upon doing all the talking himself.

"My wife," said he, sententiously, "my wife'll have to dance to the tune I play; for I intend to wear the breeches and the skirts, too, in my house; so I hope you've brought up your daughter to jump through paper hoops, like a well-trained horse--no, I mean a girl!"

"My daughter----"

"Oh, I daresay that your daughter's like you, turning up her nose; but I say, D----n it! I'll not have a wife whose nose turns up."

Giulianic looked put out; his wife's face lengthened by several inches, whilst Ivanka did her best to look scared.

"Come, captain," continued Uros, "spout us one of your stories. Now listen, for he'll make you split with laughter. Come, give us one of your spicy ones; tell us your tale about the lack of wit, but without omitting the----"

"I'm afraid that the ladies----"

"Oh, rot the ladies! Now, all this comes from this new-fangled notion of having women at table; if they are to be squeamish and spoil all the fun, let them stop up their ears. Come, I told you I'd not brook contradiction to-day."

"Well, by-and-by; let me have my dinner now."

"What's the matter with him?" asked Mrs. Giulianic of the captain; "is he drunk?"

"Oh, worse! he's moon-struck; he's like that for a few days at every new moon."

Mrs. Giulianic made the sign of the Cross, and whispered something to her husband.

"Then, if you'll not tell us a story, our guest must sing us a song.

Come, father-in-law, sing us a song, a merry, rollicking one, for when I'm on sh.o.r.e I like to laugh."

"No, not here; we are not in our own house, you know."

"Do you pay for the dinner, or don't you?"

"I do, but there are gentlemen dining in the next room."

"If they don't like your song, don't let them listen."

Thereupon the waiter came in.

"I say, you, fellow, isn't it true that we can sing in this stinking hole of an old tub?"

"Oh! if you like; only this isn't a tavern, and there are two judges dining in the next room."

"And you think I'm not going to sing for two paltry judges! I'll howl, then."

"No; let's have some riddles," said Giulianic, soothingly; "I'm very fond of riddles, aren't you? Now, tell me, captain, who was it that killed the fourth part of mankind?"

"Why, that's as old as your wife," quoth Uros, at once; "why, Cain, of course. But as you like riddles, I'll tell you one that suits you, though, as the proverb says, a bald pate needs no comb."

Giulianic winced, for his bald head was his sore point, but then he added, with a forced smile:

"Come, let's have your riddle."

"Well, you ought to know what makes a man bald, if anyone does."

"Sorrow," answered the bald man.

"Rot, I say!"

"What is it, then?"

"The loss of hair, of course," and he poked Giulianic in the ribs.

"That was good, wasn't it, father-in-law?"

"Well, I don't see much of a joke in it," answered the host, snappishly.

"No; I didn't expect you would; that's the joke, you see." Then, turning to Ivanka, with a slight wink: "Now, here's one for you."

"Let's hear it."

"Why are there in this world more women than men?"

"Because they are more necessary."

"That's your conceit; but you're wrong."

"What is it, then?" asked the young girl.

"Because the evil in this world is always greater than the good."

"So," said she, with a pretty smile, "then, women ought to be called men's worse halves."

"Of course, they ought--though there are exceptions to all rules."

Then, after drinking very slowly half a gla.s.s of wine: "Now, one for you, _babica_. This is the very best of the lot; I didn't invent it myself, though I, too, can say a smart thing now and then, _babica_.

Tell me, when is a wife seen at her best?"

Ivanka's mother, who prided herself upon her youthful looks, winced visibly on hearing herself twice called a granny; still, she added, simpering:

"I suppose, when she's a bride."

"Oh! you suppose that, do you? Well, your supposition is all wrong."

"Well, when is it?"

"Ask your husband; surely, he's not bald for nothing."

"I'm sure, I don't know; I think----"