Part 16 (2/2)

The Jew, having seen from his window the gray head of Chwedko's mare, recognized at once the custom which was coming to him; and as there was at that moment no one in the inn, he came out upon the door-sill.

”Ha! ha! ha!” said he, stretching his limbs, ”here is Chwedko going to the city again. What business have you there, my good fellow, that you go there so often? And you also, old potter? This is not market-day.

You have some engagement down there, doubtless.”

”Yes, you are right; an engagement.”

”Meantime, give us a gla.s.s of good brandy.”

”Why do you say good?” returned Iuk, bridling up. ”Do I ever have any bad at my house? There is none at the house of Szmula, your great lord, like mine, you well know; and he pours it out half water, at that.”

”That is all true; Iuk's brandy is real good, pure gin,” said Chwedko, spitting as he spoke, for his mouth began to water.

”I tell you there is none in all the neighbourhood like it. Do me the favor to taste it; you will see that only the n.o.bility drink better.

Old, fragrant, clear, strong, it is more than twelve years old; I bought it at Bebnow. It cost me dear; but I love what is good, I do,--that is my way.”

As they spoke, they entered the room, to which one had to descend as into a cellar, for the wretched building had sunk considerably into the ground. The ceiling almost rested on the heads of the inhabitants; and the well-trodden dirt floor, which took the place of a plank one, had sunk so low that the windows of the inn were, on the outside, on a level with the ground.

The peculiar situation of this old building; the elevation of the small place in front, where the vehicles stopped; the entire absence of paving or any drainage,--all contributed to form before the door a deep black-looking pond which never dried up and which one had to cross by means of stones. The Jewish innkeeper's ducks and geese paddled here at will; and the travellers who frequented the place, as they stooped to pa.s.s under the low door, were obliged to cross very cautiously this offensive Black Sea lest they should get soaked above their calves. The Jew had never felt the necessity of remedying this inconvenience. In times of great drought it often happened that the pond thickened up and was transformed into a gluey and almost solid mud-hole; but the first rain that came would dilute it again, and it would extend half over the room. Iuk did not find this the least obstacle to the comfort of domestic life.

In the inner room there were the Jew's wife (a fat, dirty matron with her breast uncovered), his six children of different sizes, a servant, a few goats, some pet chickens and geese, and only one traveller,--a stranger, who wore a coa.r.s.e woollen cap, and was asleep, sitting on a bench with his head resting on the table. Chwedko, as he entered, slipped upon one of the stones in the mud-hole, splashed the black water all over himself, and swore a terrible oath which wakened the stranger.

The latter wore a costume closely resembling that of the towns-people,--a cloak with lappets turned back and faced, a green belt, a large hat; and he had an iron-shod stick which he laid down beside him, with his small bundle tied up in a handkerchief. He was still young, apparently scarcely thirty years old, and had a tall, robust figure, and a round red face. He seemed to know nothing of poverty, for gay life and good cheer had left their traces on his brow and eyes; and it was easy to see that he was tipsy, thanks to the good old brandy of Bebnow, for he had scarcely raised his head when he pulled up his mustache and began to sing a tavern song. At this moment Chwedko was plunging and splas.h.i.+ng in the mud-hole, which caused the stranger to burst into a loud laugh and shout,--

”Help! help! The gentlemen from Popielnia are drowning!”

Iuk and his people at this also laughed; and the merry fellow, putting his hands on his hips, began to stare impertinently at the two new-comers.

”And how do you know that we are from Popielnia?” asked Iermola.

”Bah! it is not hard to tell that. All the people of Popielnia wear a mark.”

”What do you mean? A mark? Do they mark us like sheep with a red cross on our backs?”

”Is it possible that you do not know,” answered the stranger, ”that the tailors in your village make hoods for you different from any which are made anywhere else in the world?”

From time immemorial, in fact, the hooded _sukmanes_ of the inhabitants of Popielnia had been cut and made in a peculiar fas.h.i.+on, which fact Chwedko and Iermola had for the moment forgotten. They also, desiring to preserve the old custom, would never have bought or worn any hood which was not of the exact shape worn by their ancestors.

”And you,--where do you come from?” asked Chwedko of the young man.

”From a country which is beyond the seventh sea of the seventh river, and the seventh mountain,” answered the merry joker.

”Ah, ah! Even in that distant country it seems, then, that they know about the people of Popielnia; that is very complimentary to us. But without joking, my brother, tell us from what land the Lord G.o.d has led you.”

”From Mrozowica, neighbour.”

Mrozowica was a large colony of freemen of the lower cla.s.s, who paid taxes to the Government instead of doing service; it was just there that the potters lived to whom Iermola wished to apply, and the old man felt his heart beat as he heard the name p.r.o.nounced.

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