Part 31 (1/2)
”We know very well that you're honest; but you know who the thieves are. So come, how was it? They stole your horses in the autumn, but you did nothing; and not long ago they stole money from you--you even caught them in your bedroom--and again you did nothing and didn't have them taken up, and never even told the policeman about them.”
”Why should I? Do you want me to lose more money? What good would the Court or the police do? They'd catch the wind in the field and bring it bound to me! May G.o.d repay those scoundrels at the Judgment Day for the wrong they have done me!”
”It's plain, from all you say, that you're afraid to let out who they are.”
”If I knew, do you think I'd be the worse off through them, and not tell? Was it for nothing....”
”You keep going round in a circle,” Jedrzej interrupted him roughly.
”We didn't come here to quarrel with you, but to get at the truth; and we're in a hurry, for the whole village is waiting, some outside your house and some in the cottages. So we ask you as a friend to tell us who stole your money.”
”If I had known it myself, the Court and all the village would have known by now,” the miller excused himself anxiously, looking in alarm at the set, suspicious faces round him. But Jedrzej threw himself forward impatiently, and his eyes shone with anger. Without thinking what he was doing, he took the miller by the shoulder, and said abruptly in a firm voice:
”What you are saying isn't true! But if you will swear to it in church, we will trust you and leave you in peace.”
The miller sat down and began to talk with feigned amus.e.m.e.nt:
”Ha, ha! You're in a larky mood, I see, as if it were Carnival. Of course, if you all go in a crowd to a fellow and threaten him with sticks, he'll be ready to swear to anything you like. I tell you the truth: I know nothing about this, and I know nothing about the thieves. You can believe me if you like; if not, then don't. But you won't force me to swear to it, for you have no right to try me....”
He stood up, rolling his eyes defiantly.
”Indeed, that's what we came for--and to carry out the sentence justly,” Jedrzej said so firmly that the miller started back in terror, and was unable to get out a word.
The peasants surrounded him in gloomy silence, fixing their burning eyes on him, and shuffling their feet impatiently. So menacing and full of stern resolution did they look that he was at a loss to know what to do, and merely stood wiping the perspiration from his bald head and casting frightened glances round the circle of stubborn, set faces. He realized that this was not only idle talk, but the beginning of something terrible. He sat down again on a bench, and took pinch after pinch of snuff to help himself to arrive at some decision. Then Jedrzej went up to him, and said solemnly:
”You neither want to tell the truth nor to swear to it. So it's plain you are a party to those thieves!”
The miller sprang up as hastily as if something close beside him had been struck by lightning, upsetting the bench as he did so.
”Jesus! Mary! have I to do with thieves? You say this to me?”
”I say it and repeat it!”
”And we repeat it too!” they all shouted together, shaking their fists at him. Their heads were bent forward; their glances were like vultures' beaks, ready to tear.
Attracted by the noise, Jadwis burst into the room and stood petrified.
”What's up here?” she asked anxiously.
The peasants dropped their clenched hands, and began to clear their throats.
”We don't want women here, listening and blabbing it all out afterwards,” someone said angrily.
”She'd better go back where she came from.”
”Look after the geese, and don't come poking your nose into men's business!” they shouted still louder. Jadwis ran out of the room in a furious temper, slamming the door after her.
Again Jedrzej stretched his hand forward, and said:
”I tell you, miller, the time for trial and punishment has come!”