The Pobratim Part 6

"No; no woman has such beautiful eyes. Why, the first time I saw Milena, I felt her glances scorching me; they sank into my flesh,"

and he heaved a deep sigh.

There was another pause; both the friends were musing.

"Well, then, I'll tell you what," said Milenko, after a while; "we'll just go off to sea again. It's a pity, but it can't be helped."

"And the harvest?"

"They'll have to manage without us; that's all."

After having discussed the subject over and over again, it was agreed that they were to sail as soon as they could find a decent vessel that could take them both. In the meanwhile, Uros promised to avoid Milena as much as possible, which was, indeed, no easy matter.

The day of Milena Zwillievic's marriage had, indeed, been a Black Friday to her. First, she knew that she was being sold to pay her father's debts; secondly, Radonic was old enough to be her father.

Added to all this, he was a heavy, rough, uncouth kind of a fellow, the terror of all seamen, and, as he treated his crew as if they had been slaves, no man ever sailed with him if he could possibly get another berth.

Two or three days after the wedding, Radonic brought his girlish bride to live with his mother, the veriest old shrewish skinflint that could be imagined. She disliked her daughter-in-law before she knew her; she hated her the first moment she saw her. Milena was handsome and penniless, two heinous sins in her eyes, for she herself had been ugly and rich. She could not forgive her son for having made such a silly marriage at his age, and not a day pa.s.sed without her telling him that he was an old fool.

During the first months poor Milena was to be pitied, and, what was worse, everybody pitied her. She never ate a morsel of bread without hearing her mother-in-law's taunts. If she cried, she was bullied by the one, cuffed by the other.

A month after the wedding, Radonic, however, went off with his s.h.i.+p, and shortly afterwards his vixen of a mother died, and Milena was then left sole mistress of the house. Her life, though lonesome, was no more a burden to her, as it had hitherto been, only, having nothing to do the whole day, time lay heavy on her hands.

Handsome and young as she was, with a slight inborn tendency to flirtation; living, moreover, quite alone; many a young man had tried to make love to her; but, their intentions being too manifest, all, hitherto, had been repulsed. On seeing Uros, however, she felt for him what she had, as yet, never felt for any man, for her husband less than anybody else.

She tried not to think of Uros, and the more she tried the more his image was before her eyes; so the whole of the live-long day she did nothing else but think of him. She decided to avoid him, and still --perhaps it was the devil that tempted her, but, somehow or other, she herself could not explain how it happened--she was always either at the door or at the window at the time he pa.s.sed, and then what could she do but nod in a friendly way to him?

If she went to pay his mother a visit, she would hurry away before he came home, and then she was always unlucky enough to meet him on her way. Could she do less than stop and ask him how he was; besides, after all, he was but a boy, and she was a married woman.

Soon she began to surmise that Uros was in love with her; then she thought herself foolish to believe such a thing, and she rated herself for being vain. And then, again, she thought: "If he cares for me more than he ought, it is but a foolish infatuation, of which he will soon get rid when he goes again to sea." Thereupon she heaved a deep sigh, and a heaviness came over her heart, at which she almost confessed to herself that she did love that boy.

Milena, after the conversation Uros had had with his friend, seeing herself shunned, felt nettled and sorry. At the same time she was glad to see that he did not care for her, and then her heart yearned all the more for him.

But if he shunned her, was it a sign that he did not care for her?

she asked herself.

Puzzled, as she was, she wanted to find out the truth, merely out of curiosity, and nothing more.

Thus it came to pa.s.s that, standing one day on her doorstep, she beckoned to the young man, as soon as she saw him, to come up to her. It was a bold thing to do, nor did she do so without a certain trepidation.

"Uros," said she to him, "come here; I have something to ask you."

"What is it?" said the young man, looking down rather shyly.

"You that have travelled far and wide, can you tell me who speaks all the languages of this world?"

"Who speaks all the languages of this world?" echoed Uros, lifting up his eyes, astonished, and then lowering them, feeling Milena's glances parch up his blood.

"Who can it be?" said he, puzzled.

He tried to think, but his poor head was muddled, and his heart was beating just as if it would burst. He had never been good at guessing, but now it was worse than ever.

"I've heard of people speaking three, four, and five languages, but I've never heard of anyone speaking more than five."

"What! You've been in foreign countries," quoth she, smiling archly, and displaying her pearly teeth, "and still you cannot answer my question?"

"I cannot, indeed. There was a man who said he spoke twenty-five languages, but, of course, he was a humbug. First, there are not twenty-five languages in the world, and then he couldn't even speak Slav."

"Well, well; think over it till to-morrow."

"And then?"

"Perhaps you'll be able to guess."

"But if I don't?"

"Well, I shall not eat you up as the dragon, that Marko Kraglievic killed, used to do, if people couldn't answer the questions he put them."

"And you'll tell me?" Thereupon he lifted up his eyes yearningly towards her.

"Perhaps," she replied, blus.h.i.+ng, "but then, you must promise not to ask Milenko."

"I promise."

She stretched forth her hand. He pressed it lingeringly.

"Nor anybody else?"

"No."

"Then I'll tell you to-morrow."

He bade her good-bye, and went off with a heavy heart; she saw him disappear with a sigh.

That whole day Uros thought a little of the riddle, and a great deal of Milena's sparkling eyes; moreover, he felt the pressure of her soft hand upon his palm. But the more he pondered over her question, the more confused his brain grew, so he gave up thinking of the riddle, and continued thinking of the young woman. On the morrow his excitement increased, as the time of hearing the answer drew near.

Milena, as usual, was on the watch for him, leaning on the door-post, looking more beautiful than ever. As soon as he saw her, he hurried up to her without being called.

"Well," said she, with a nervous smile, "have you guessed?"

"No."

"Oh, you silly fellow! Who speaks all the languages of the world?"

"It's useless to ask me; I don't know."

"What will you give me if I tell you?" said she, in a low, fluttering voice, and with a visible effort.

He would willingly have made her a present, but he did not know what she would like, and, as he looked up into her eyes to guess, he felt his blood rising all up to his head.