The Witch | Page 7

was

sexton here in the old days, and when the time came for him to die, he
went to the Consistory and asked them to send some unmarried man to
marry me that I might keep the place. So I married him."
"Aha, so you killed two birds with one stone!" said the postman,
looking at Savely's back. "Got wife and job together."
Savely wriggled his leg impatiently and moved closer to the wall. The
postman moved away from the table, stretched, and sat down on the
mail-bag. After a moment's thought he squeezed the bags with his
hands, shifted his sword to the other side, and lay down with one foot
touching the floor.
"It's a dog's life," he muttered, putting his hands behind his head and
closing his eyes. "I wouldn't wish a wild Tatar such a life."
Soon everything was still. Nothing was audible except the sniffing of
Savely and the slow, even breathing of the sleeping po stman, who
uttered a deep prolonged "h-h-h" at every breath. From time to time
there was a sound like a creaking wheel in his throat, and his twitching
foot rustled against the bag.
Savely fidgeted under the quilt and looked round slowly. His wife was
sitting on the stool, and with her hands pressed against her cheeks was
gazing at the postman's face. Her face was immovable, like the face of
some one frightened and astonished.
"Well, what are you gaping at?" Savely whispered angrily.
"What is it to you? Lie down!" answered his wife without taking her
eyes off the flaxen head.
Savely angrily puffed all the air out of his chest and turned abruptly to
the wall. Three minutes later he turned over restlessly again, knelt up
on the bed, and with his hands on the pillow looked askance at his wife.
She was still sitting motionless, staring at the visitor. Her cheeks were
pale and her eyes were glowing with a strange fire. The sexton cleared
his throat, crawled on his stomach off the bed, and going up to the
postman, put a handkerchief over his face.
"What's that for?" asked his wife.
"To keep the light out of his eyes."
"Then put out the light!"
Savely looked distrustfully at his wife, put out his lips towards the lamp,
but at once thought better of it and clasped his hands.
"Isn't that devilish cunning?" he exclaimed. "Ah! Is there any creature

slyer than womenkind?"
"Ah, you long-skirted devil!" hissed his wife, frowning with vexation.
"You wait a bit!"
And settling herself more comfortably, she stared at the postman again.
It did not matter to her that his face was covered. She was not so much
interested in his face as in his whole appearance, in the novelty of this
man. His chest was broad and powerful, his hands were slender and
well formed, and his graceful, muscular legs were much comelier than
Savely's stumps. There could be no comparison, in fact.
"Though I am a long-skirted devil," Savely said after a brief interval,
"they've no business to sleep here. . . . It's government work; we shall
have to answer for keeping them. If you carry the letters, carry them,
you can't go to sleep. . . . Hey! you!" Savely shouted into the outer
room. "You, driver. What's your name? Shall I show you the way? Get
up; postmen mustn't sleep!"
And Savely, thoroughly roused, ran up to the postman and tugged him
by the sleeve.
"Hey, your honour, if you must go, go; and if you don't, it's not the
thing. . . . Sleeping won't do."
The postman jumped up, sat down, looked with blank eyes round the
hut, and lay down again.
"But when are you going?" Savely pattered away. "That's what the post
is for -- to get there in good time, do you hear? I'll take you."
The postman opened his eyes. Warmed and relaxed by his first sweet
sleep, and not yet quite awake, he saw as through a mist the white neck
and the immovable, alluring eyes of the sexton's wife. He closed his
eyes and smiled as though he had been dreaming it all.
"Come, how can you go in such weather!" he heard a soft feminine
voice; "you ought to have a sound sleep and it would do you good!"
"And what about the post?" said Savely anxiously. "Who's going to
take the post? Are you going to take it, pray, you?
The postman opened his eyes again, looked at the play of the dimples
on Raissa's face, remembered where he was, and understood Savely.
The thought that he had to go out into the cold darkness sent a chill
shudder all down him, and he winced.
"I might sleep another five minutes," he said, yawning. "I shall