Part 8 (1/2)
While Ivan went to fetch Jacob, the Countess related, with many embellishments and exaggerations, and with frequent appeals to her maid Tekla for corroboration, how she had found the boy on the road, how she had saved his life, and, finally, how she had decided to bring him home as a little playmate for her darling Loris. Before she had finished her story Jacob himself appeared upon the scene, the personification of abject misery. His features were still besmeared with the dirt of the highway, his clothes were in a wretched condition, and his bandaged arm and lacerated face did not improve his general appearance. Louise laughed heartily when this apparition entered the door.
”Is he not a beauty?” she exclaimed.
The Count was too much surprised to speak. After a pause, during which poor Jacob looked pleadingly from one to the other, Dimitri asked:
”In all seriousness, Louise, why did you introduce that being into our house?”
”He is not as bad as he looks,” answered the Countess. ”Wait till he is washed and dressed, and you will agree that he is a handsome fellow.”
The Count crossed the room and looked at the boy.
”What is your name?” he asked, gruffly.
”Jacob Winenki,” answered the child, timidly.
”A Jew!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Count. ”By our Holy Madonna, that is just what I needed to make me completely happy--the companions.h.i.+p of an accursed Jew!”
Jacob instinctively divined that he was not welcome, and began to cry.
”Please, I want my mamma!”
”Stop your whimpering, you cur!” shouted the enraged Count.
But Jacob's tears would not be checked so abruptly.
”Please don't send me back to the soldiers,” he pleaded, in his miserable jargon. ”I don't want to go with the soldiers.”
At this juncture Loris joined in the cry. ”I don't want him. I want a pony to play with.”
”Here, Ivan,” commanded the excited Count, ”take this brat out into the barn, and keep him secure until I ask for him. We will investigate his case after supper. Minka, take Loris to bed at once.” Then turning to his wife, who actually trembled before his infuriated glance, he said:
”Louise, you have done some very silly things since I married you, but this is the most absurd. You know my aversion to Jews, and here you bring a dirty Jew out of the streets to become a playmate of our Loris!”
”I could not leave the poor child to die in the road,” pouted Louise, who, in addition to being extremely frivolous, was very tender-hearted.
”If I had found a sick dog, I should have aided him.”
”I would rather it had been a dog than a Jew.”
”How could I know it was a Jew?”
”By his looks; by his language,” answered the exasperated man.
”He was insensible, and could not speak,” retorted Louise; ”and his appearance no worse than that of other dirty children. Tell me, Dimitri,” she added, throwing her arms about her husband's waist, in a childish endeavor to appease his wrath; ”tell me why you have such an animosity towards the Jews?”
The count impressively rolled up his sleeve and displayed a scar about two inches in length upon his forearm.
”See, Louise,” he said, gloomily; ”that is some of their accursed work.
Have I not cause to detest them? They are spiteful, vengeful, implacable.”
Louise lovingly kissed the scarred arm.
”Poor Dimitri,” she murmured; ”how it must have pained. Tell me how it happened.”
”There is no need to go into details,” answered the Count, abruptly.