Selected Polish Tales | Page 7

go and bow and scrape to the bailiff at the manor that he may
remember you. Well, let it be as it is! Better be master on a square yard
of your own than a beggar on another's large estate.' A cloud of dust
was rising on the high-road beyond the river. Some one was coming
towards the bridge from the manor-house, riding in a peculiar fashion.
The wind blew from behind, but the dust was so thick that sometimes it
travelled backwards. Occasionally horse and rider showed above it, but
the next moment it whirled round and round them again, as if the road
was raising a storm. Slimak shaded his eyes with his hand.
[Footnote 1: The designations Wojt and Soltys are derived from the
German Vogt and Sdiultheiss. Their functions in the townships or
villages are of a different kind; in small villages there may be only one
of these functionaries, the Soltys. He is the representative of the
Government, collects rates and taxes and requisitions horses for the
army. The Wojt is head of the village, and magistrate. All legal matters
would be referred to him.]
'What an odd way of riding? who can it be? not the squire, nor his
coachman. He can't be a Catholic, not even a Jew; for although a Jew
would bob up and down on the horse as he does, he would never make
a horse go in that reckless way. It must be some crazy stranger.'
The rider had now come near enough for Slimak to see what he was
like. He was slim and dressed in gentleman's clothes, consisting of a
light suit and velvet jockey cap. He had eyeglasses on his nose and a
cigar in his mouth, and he was carrying his riding whip under his arm,
holding the reins in both hands between the horse's neck and his own
beard, while he was shaking violently up and down; he hugged the
saddle so tightly with his bow legs that his trousers were rucked up,
showing his calves.
Anyone in the very least acquainted with equestrian matters could
guess that this was the first time the rider had sat upon a horse, or that
the horse had carried such a rider. At moments they seemed to be
ambling along harmoniously, until the bobbing cavalier would lose his
balance and tug at the reins; then the horse, which had a soft mouth,
would turn sideways or stand still; the rider would then smack his lips,

and if this had no effect he would fumble for the whip. The horse,
guessing what was required, would start again, shaking him up and
down until he looked like a rag doll badly sewn together.
All this did not upset his temper, for indeed, this was the first time the
rider had realized the dearest wish of a lifetime, and he was enjoying
himself to the full.
Sometimes the quiet but desperate horse would break into a gallop.
Then the rider, keeping his balance by a miracle, would drop his
bridle-fantasias and imagine himself a cavalry captain riding to the
attack at the head of his squadron, until, unaccustomed to his rank of
officer, he would perform some unexpected movement which made the
horse suddenly stand still again, and would cause the gallant captain to
hit his nose or his cigar against the neck of his steed.
He was, moreover, a democratic gentleman. When the horse took a
fancy to trot towards the village instead of towards the bridge, a crowd
of dogs and children ran after him with every sign of pleasure. Instead
of annoyance a benevolent enjoyment would then take possession of
him, for next to riding exercise he passionately loved the people,
because they could manage horses. After a while, however, his role of
cavalry captain would please him more, and after further performances
with the reins, he succeeded in turning back towards the bridge. He
evidently intended to ride through the length and breadth of the valley.
Slimak was still watching him.
'Eh, that must be the squire's brother-in-law, who was expected from
Warsaw,' he said to himself, much amused; 'our squire chose a gracious
little wife, and was not even very long about it; but he might have
searched the length of the world for a brother-in-law like that! A bear
would be a commoner sight in these parts than a man sitting a horse as
he does! He looks as stupid as a cowherd--still, he is the squire's
brother-in-law.'
While Slirnak was thus taking the measure of this friend of the people,
the latter had reached the bridge; the noise of Slimakowa's stick had

attracted his attention. He turned the horse towards the bridge-rail and
craned his neck over the water; indeed, his slim figure and peaked