Part 14 (2/2)
”What did you tell me?”
”Why, don't you remember? When he began to make his little horses, and his little queer-shaped jugs which scarcely held a pint apiece, I predicted that by the end of the year he would be wis.h.i.+ng to make beautiful fine pottery.”
”Well, it has happened as you said,” answered Iermola, ”and now it is impossible to make him listen to reason. I have said what I could to him, but that does not prevent my being anxious to please him; and I really do not know how to do it.”
”Why, go and examine the glazed ware closely.”
”Ah, mother, I would willingly do that; but it would not help me at all. It is not difficult to turn the dishes; but to glaze them is a very difficult matter, because several drugs must be mixed together for that purpose, and besides, one must know how long to bake them. My eyes are not very good now, and neither is my memory,” sighed the old man.
”But if you only knew, mother, how much I would like to please my child!”
”But how can you do it?”
”I do not know yet at all; but even if one cannot succeed, one can always try.”
”Yes, I am sure of that,” answered the widow, with a smile; ”how can you possibly refuse your child anything? I know all about that, you see. I was just so about my Horpyna; we scold and fret, but we end by doing what they wish. Consequently you will go, my poor old man, to learn to make the fine glazed pottery.”
”Yes, certainly I shall go,” sighed Iermola. ”Only I would not like the child to know about it. If I should not succeed, it would trouble him very much, but if I could only learn all by myself-- Good Lord, how glad I would be!”
”That's just the way I used to do,--just the way,” cried the widow.
”Ah, my G.o.d! I know all about it. But tell me, where would you go?”
”I would take a little money and go and look up one or two of the potters who sold the glazed ware at the fair; they might teach me if I paid them. If I did not succeed at once, I would take the child; he would understand at once. The only thing I fear is that they would drive me away. How could I propose such a thing to them,--to come to them to learn for the purpose of taking away their living?”
”Ah! you are right; you might not get along so easily perhaps as you did with Procope; but Nad syrotojn Boh z kalitojn,”[7] she added, ”and with the help of Providence, you may be able to succeed.”
”That is what I think,” said Iermola, rising to take leave of the widow. ”To-morrow I will pretend to have a little business, and will go to town; please, neighbour, while I am gone, have an eye upon Huluk and Radionek, and do not let them cut up any pranks. They would just as soon go out on the river in a leaky boat or do some other such silly thing.”
”Oh, no; they are very quiet, reasonable boys.”
”Yes, certainly they are, thank G.o.d; but they are so hot-blooded. If a notion strikes them, they are capable of getting lost in the forest, or jumping into the river. May G.o.d preserve us from any such misfortune!”
”But it will be hard to keep them near me.”
”Certainly; but you can see what they do, and warn them, neighbour.”
So saying, the two old people separated, and Iermola immediately announced to the boy that the Jews in the little town owed him some money for his pottery, and had told him to come for it after the fair was over; and that as he wished to collect all the little sums which were due him, he perhaps would be obliged to remain away some days.
He then enjoined upon both boys to be very good, and work well during his absence, and not to go near the river, or wander in the forest.
”Are you going to walk?” Radionek asked him.
”What do you mean? I surely shall not go in a carriage,” answered the old man, smilingly.
”But couldn't you hire a wagon?”
”How could I? There is not a single horse in the whole village, except Chwedko's mare, which he would not lend for anything in the world; and as for being dragged along by oxen, I would rather walk. Besides, my legs swell when I sit all the time, and it will not do me any harm to stand up a while.”
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