Part 6 (1/2)
”Your name is Vetturi, isn't it?” asked Anton. ”Come here. Is there anything you want?”
”I won't take alms like a beggar, I'd rather strike my mouth against a stone,” replied Vetturi in a hoa.r.s.e voice; and turning to his mother as though she had contradicted him, said: ”Mother, you shan't take anything.”
Then in an entirely different tone he said to Thoma: ”May I wish you joy?”
”No, you may not. n.o.body who speaks so disrespectfully of my father shall wish me joy. Own up to stealing the oats. If you do, I will go to father and get him to forgive you.”
”I won't do it.”
”Then abuse me, not my father. My father might, perhaps, have given up to you, but I won't let him as long as you keep on lying.”
”But I can wish you joy, Anton,” cried Cus.h.i.+on Kate; ”I hope your wife will be like your mother. She was a good woman; there isn't her like in the whole country. I was in your house when you came into the world.
You are just eight days older than my oldest daughter would be now.
Now, get your father-in-law to take my Vetturi again, and straighten everything out. We are poor people. We don't want to quarrel with such a powerful farmer as he is, but he must not squeeze us until the blood runs out from under our nails.”
”Come along,” cried Thoma, taking hold of Anton's arm, ”don't let her talk to you so.”
She walked away. Anton did not follow her, but said to Vetturi that he would employ him as a wood-cutter up in the forest.
”My Vetturi cannot do that,” interrupted the mother. ”He cannot work up there from Monday morning to Sat.u.r.day night, and have no decent food, and no decent bed.”
”Come! come!” urged Thoma from a distance. Anton obeyed, and Vetturi called after them all kinds of imprecations against Landolin.
With a frown Thoma said to Anton, in a reproachful tone:
”That Vetturi is no comrade of yours, and why do you stop and talk with him? I do not like it in you. You are not proud enough. Such people should not speak to us unless they are spoken to.”
Anton looked at her with astonishment. There was a sharpness in her words and voice which surprised him. She noticed it, perhaps, for she gave him a bewitching smile, and continued:
”See, I am proud of you, and you must be proud of yourself. Such a man as you are! People ought to take off their hats when they speak to you.
I wouldn't say good-day to a rascal, and you ought not to either.
Perhaps you think I'm angry. Don't think that for an instant. It's only that I have no patience with a liar. Whatever a man does, if he confesses it, you feel like helping him; but a liar, a hypocrite----”
”But, Thoma dear,” interrupted Anton, ”lying belongs to badness; a man who is bad enough to steal, must be bad enough to lie.”
”I understand everything at once. You need not always explain a thing to me twice. I could see a liar or a hypocrite peris.h.i.+ng before my eyes and not help him until he----”
”Oho! You're getting excited.”
”Yes, I always do when I'm on this subject. But enough of this. What are the cottagers to us! See there, it was there by the pear-tree that you said good-by to me, when you went to the war. See, it is the finest tree of all. It looks like a great nosegay.”
”And before the flowers become fruit you will be mine.”
CHAPTER XIV.