Selected Polish Tales | Page 8

the shout did not reach her, and the young man did not seem at all offended. He kissed his hand to Slimakowa and dug his heels into the horse, which threw up its head and started in the direction of the cottage at a sharp trot. But this time success did not attend the rider, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and clutching his charger by the mane, he shouted: 'Stop, you devil!'
Jendrek heard the cry, clambered on to the gate, and seeing the strange performance, burst out laughing. The rider's jockey cap fell off. 'Pick up the cap, my boy,' the horseman called out in passing.
'Pick it up yourself,' laughed Jendrek, clapping his hands to excite the horse still more.
The father listened to the boy's answer speechless with astonishment, but he soon recovered himself.
'Jendrek, you young dog, give the gentleman his cap when he tells you!' he cried.
Jendrek took the jockey cap between two fingers, holding it in front of him and offering it to the rider when he had succeeded in stopping his horse.
'Thank you, thank you very much,' he said, no less amused than Jendrek himself.
'Jendrek, take off your cap to the gentleman at once,' called Slimak.
'Why should I take off my cap to everybody?' asked the lad saucily.
'Excellent, that's right!...' The young man seemed pleased. 'Wait, you shall have twenty kopeks for that; a free citizen should never humble himself before anybody.'
Slimak, by no means sharing the gentleman's democratic theories, advanced towards Jendrek with his cap in one hand and the whip in the other.
'Citizen!' cried the cavalier, 'I beg you not to beat the boy...do not crush his independent soul...do not...' he would have liked to have continued, but the horse, getting bored, started off again in the direction of the bridge. When he saw Slimakowa coming towards the cottage, he took off his dusty cap and called out:
'Madam, do not let him beat the boy!'
Jendrek had disappeared.
Slimak stood rooted to the spot, pondering upon this queer fish, who first was impertinent to his wife, then called her 'Madam', and himself 'Citizen', and praised Jendrek for his cheek.
He returned angrily to his horses.
'Woa, lads! what's the world coming to? A peasant's son won't take off his cap to a gentleman, and the gentleman praises him for it! He is the squire's brother-in-law--all the same, he must be a little wrong in his head. Soon there will be no gentlemen left, and then the peasants will have to die. Maybe when Jendrek grows up he will look after himself; he won't be a peasant, that's clear. Woa, lads!'
He imagined Jendrek in button-boots and a jockey cap, and he spat.
'Bah! so long as I am about, you won't dress like that, young dog! All the same I shall have to warm his latter end for him, or else he won't take his cap off to the squire next, and then I can go begging. It's the wife's fault, she is always spoiling him. There's nothing for it, I must give him a hiding.'
Again dust was rising on the road, this time in the direction of the plain. Slimak saw two forms, one tall, the other oblong; the oblong was walking behind the tall one and nodding its head.
'Who's sending a cow to market?' he thought, '... well, the boy must be thrashed...if only I could have another cow and that bit of field.'
He drove the horses down the hill towards the Bialka, where he caught sight of Stasiek, but could see nothing more of his farm or of the road. He was beginning to feel very tired; his feet seemed a heavy weight, but the weight of uncertainty was still greater, and he never got enough sleep. When his work was finished, he often had to drive off to the town.
'If I had another cow and that field,' he thought, 'I could sleep more.'
He had been meditating on this while harrowing over a fresh bit for half an hour, when he heard his wife calling from the hill:
'Josef, Josef!'
'What's up?'
'Do you know what has happened?' 'How should I know?'
'Is it a new tax?' anxiously crossed his mind.
'Magda's uncle has come, you know, that Grochowski....'
'If he wants to take the girl back--let him.'
'He has brought a cow and wants to sell her to Gryb for thirty-five paper roubles and a silver rouble for the halter. She is a lovely cow.'
'Let him sell her; what's that to do with me?'
'This much: that you are going to buy her,' said the woman firmly.
Slimak dropped his hand with the whip, bent his head forward, and looked at his wife. The proposal seemed monstrous.
'What's wrong with you?' he asked.
'Wrong with me?' She raised her voice. 'Can't I afford the cow? Gryb has bought his wife a new cart, and you grudge