Iermola Part 17

"From Mrozowica?" he repeated eagerly. "And where are you going, if I may ask?"

"I am going over the world as far as my legs will carry me."

"All over the world? Oh, that is very far!"

"Well, yes; but I am tired of staying forever in the same place, sitting on the ground with my legs crossed. I have started out to look for poverty along the road."

"Why seek for it?" said Chwedko. "It comes soon enough of its own accord."

"Let it come. I do not fear it; we will quarrel together," answered the merry stranger.

"Do you happen to be a tailor?" asked Iermola, timidly. "You noticed the shape of our hoods so quickly."

"Why not? Why shouldn't I be a tailor?" answered the fellow, putting his hands on his hips. "Rather ask me what I have not been. I have been a farmer; I have been a blacksmith; I have been a carpenter; I have been a tailor; I have been a dyer, a musician, and a shoemaker. Ta, ta!

All those are miserable trades, starving occupations. Now I am no longer so silly; I am going to be a lord."

"That is your idea, is it? Upon my word, you have not made a bad choice," said Chwedko, bursting into a laugh. "Not a bad thought, my brother. I salute you, my lord." And taking off his hat, he bowed down to the ground.

"But it seems to me," said Iermola, "that since you have so soon grown weary of all your different occupations, perhaps you will quickly tire of being a lord."

"Oh, well, then I will turn beggar; it is a fine trade, and I had as soon be one thing as another," answered the fellow as he sang,--

"'My stick, it is my friend; My wallet is my wife.'"

"Upon my word, this is a merry, pleasant fellow; and we have met him just at the right moment," muttered Iermola. "While the gray is eating her hay, and Chwedko is finishing his onion and his gla.s.s of brandy, I can easily learn something about the potters in Mrozowica.--See here, brother," said he, drawing nearer the stranger, "won't you take a gla.s.s of brandy?"

"If you will pay for it, why shouldn't I? A Bohemian will hang himself for the sake of company."

"Iuk, give us a good drink of your best Bebnow brandy."

"Give it to us, Iuk, you pagan dog, do you hear?" said the young fellow from Mrozowica.

"You see," said Iermola, drawing nearer, "I am just going to Mrozowica to--"

"Well, take care to take two sticks with you, and sew up your pockets; for they are all thieves and rascals there."

"Ah, you must be joking."

"It is true; ask any one who has ever been there. There is not one honest man there."

"But how about the potters?"

"Bah! they are the worst of all."

"Dear me! I am greatly disappointed."

"Why?"

"Ah! there are a great many reasons which you would not care to hear."

"I really would not advise you to go there," continued the young man.

"If you want a cracked pot, you will be sure to find it there."

"But you see that is not what I want."

"What is it you do want, then?"

"I want-I want--" said Iermola, scratching his head.

At this moment Chwedko, who had fortified himself with a good drink of brandy, and who had resolved to serve as interpreter, interrupted the conversation without ceremony.

A sober man always finds it extremely difficult to talk with a man who has been drinking; but nothing is easier than for a tipsy man to come to an understanding with another who is also half intoxicated.

"He wants--you see," murmured Chwedko, in the young fellow's ear--"this Iermola here--is a sort of potter. But he knows nothing--not at all--about glazed pottery; and he would like to learn how to glaze, you see."

"Ta, ta! And why does he go to Mrozowica to learn that?"

"Bless me! where should he go?"

"Why, I can teach him myself. How much will he pay me to do it?"

Iermola and Chwedko, filled with astonishment, stared at each other in silence.

"You are joking, aren't you? Are you a potter yourself?"

"I am the son of a potter, and I worked six years in glazed pottery.

But it is a foolish trade; I am tired of it," answered the man from Mrozowica. "Daub yourself with the glazing, black yourself up with the mixtures, roast yourself in the fire,--that is all the pleasure to be found in it. I spit upon it and left; but that does not prevent my having worked a long time with Father Martin, or hinder me from knowing all about glazing, no matter what colour you wish to use. And my pottery was always bright and polished like gla.s.s."

"Really?"

"Bless my heart! if you wish it, I will prove it to you."

"How much will you charge me?" said Iermola, with a bright smile.

"How much will you give me?"

Iuk, comprehending that some sort of bargaining was going on in his presence without his being able to know just what it was about, hastened to join the group, planting his snout between the two faces, and fearing lest an opportunity to sell something should slip from under his nose.

"What are you bargaining over there?" he muttered.

"A cat in a sack," answered the fellow from Mrozowica.

"Come, come! why do you joke so?" replied the innkeeper. "What is there for sale? I will buy it."

"They are haggling over the price of glazing pitchers," answered Chwedko.