Iermola Part 4

"Why, milk, to be sure."

"Suppose it should not be able to drink, it is so young and so weak."

At this Iermola heaved a deep sigh. "It may not be able to drink at first," he said; "but it will learn after a while. But what shall we do for it now?"

Then the cossack's widow took the baby in her arms so as to examine it closely. Her daughter ran to get some new milk, and the neighbours, attracted by curiosity and by the few words which had fallen from Horpyna as she pa.s.sed, began to a.s.semble, first by twos and threes, and then in large numbers.

Since the village had been in existence, in the memory of the oldest inhabitant nothing like this had ever occurred, so there was no end to their observations, exclamations, and conjectures.

The oldest inhabitant gave his advice; the counsellors counselled; the young and the old gave their ideas on the subject,--women and men and even the servants. But no one could suggest any very acceptable plan; each repeated the same opinions, each differing a little from his neighbour in particulars, but in the end coming to the same conclusions, and all recommending the wife of Jurck to Iermola as nurse.

There were numberless conjectures, wild suppositions, jokes, and accusations with regard to the wicked parties. But no one had the slightest suspicion who the authors of the scandalous act could be.

No one had seen any strange person about nightfall either in the village or its vicinity; the roads and foot-paths had been deserted; at the ford, at the mill, at the inn, no stranger had appeared. After discussing the matter a long time, the villagers gradually dispersed, spreading the strange story as they went along; at last no one remained but old Chwedko, the ill.u.s.trious proprietor of a gray mare, who stood leaning on his stick, and after a few moments of thoughtful silence addressed his friend Iermola as follows:--

"There comes to my mind at this moment something which happened twenty years ago. A farmer of Malyczki, who was a friend of mine, had the misfortune to become a widower; his wife left him a poor little orphan who had scarcely drawn a breath.

"The poor man, who was blind in one eye, lame, and poor, had nothing to pay a nurse. He went in vain from cottage to cottage trying to find a woman compa.s.sionate enough to be willing to nurse his child; and he had no cow even to furnish him milk. Do you know what he did? He bought a goat with the last half-rouble which remained after the funeral expenses had been paid; and that goat nursed and reared for him the little daughter, who afterward became the loveliest girl in the village."

At these words Iermola trembled and rose.

"Somebody find me a goat!" he cried aloud. "Where is there a goat? I will buy one at once."

"The Jew innkeeper has one."

"Then I shall go and buy it."

He had already started for the door when Chwedko and the cossack's widow stopped him.

"Take care what you do, good man," said his old companion. "The Jew will fleece you if he knows that you really need the goat very much."

"Ah, well, let him ask what he will, provided I get the animal."

"He will take your last shirt from you, old fool," said the cossack's widow, in her turn. "You know Szmula; he is a regular thief, the most miserable rascal that ever lived, even among the Jews of his cla.s.s. Do not be in too great a hurry, for G.o.d's sake! Use a little deception at least, and say that you want the goat to raise a little flock, or else he will make you pay more than you would have to give for a cow."

"I will go with you," said Chwedko, "see if I don't; between us we shall be a match for the Jew."

"But what shall we do with the baby?"

"Never mind about it; I will keep it here. No harm shall happen to it."

"I pray you, good mother," said Iermola, trembling, "take special care of it."

"Ha, ha! he undertakes to give me lessons, do you see? Just as if it was the first baby I ever had in my arms. I shall rock it, and feed it with some milk, and perhaps I shall let it suck the end of my finger.

Do not be at all anxious."

"I shall be back again in a moment," continued Iermola; "do take care that nothing happens to the baby."

The old woman burst into peals of laughter as she listened to him, he looked so anxious. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he remembered that he had not smoked for some time; he drew from his bosom his old wooden pipe, which was his constant companion, went up to the tinder, lighted it, and then started off with Chwedko through the darkness in the direction of the new inn situated in the centre of the village.

V.

SET A CHEAT TO CATCH A CHEAT.

In a small town where, by reason of its trade in wood and its rafting, the number and the means of the transient inhabitants is considerable; where the boatmen, the merchants, and their employees constantly come and go,--it would not be possible for a Jew, without money and without credit, to keep the princ.i.p.al hotel. Consequently the ill.u.s.trious Szmula, who owned the inn of Popielnia, whence he reigned over the village and its vicinity, was not a mere innkeeper going from time to time a distance of three miles to purchase a little barrel of brandy.

He was a Jew who had grown rich upon the profit of his trade in wood, timber, tar, and ashes,--in fact, all the products of the Polesian forests, including dried mushrooms and conserved berries.

His inn also, particularly in the springtime, brought him gain which was not to be despised; and Mr. Szmula, justly valuing the rotundity of his girth and the dignity of his position, began to set himself up for a great lord. The new inn, from which he lorded it, was different in appearance from the old-fashioned inns whose architecture had been perpetuated according to Slavic custom because they were intended to be used for public a.s.semblies and councils. It was without the traditional vestibule, projecting and supported by pillars, for the practical Israelite cared but little to entertain the poor and infrequent travellers who usually pa.s.sed through that secluded region; but there was a stable and coach-house sheltering the great carriage which was used in going to the fairs, and the house had externally very much the appearance of a gentleman's _dwor_. On one side was a large apartment, which was in fact the dining-hall of the inn, where heavy benches were placed all about the wall, with an enormous table in front of them. In one corner there was a sort of staging which was shut up during the night by means of several window shutters, and where during the day brandy was retailed from the counter. In the other part of the house, which was furnished with some elegance, lived Szmula Popielauski and his family; and there was a pretty unoccupied room kept for the merchants of his religion who might stop in the neighbourhood.

The front room in this portion of the house made some pretence to the name of drawing-room, for it contained a wooden sofa polished and varnished, and covered with a sort of damask studded with gold stars, two chairs with arrows of black wood on their backs, a mirror suspended on the wall, the framed portraits of two ill.u.s.trious Israelites,--the rabbis of Hamburg and Wilna,--a cupboard filled with china cups, cut gla.s.s, and bottles of rum, and a somewhat rickety table supported by a lyre and covered with a bright cloth.

The floor of this room had once been painted white, but the colour having been rubbed off in many places, it was now variegated; the stove was closed by a small iron door with a bra.s.s k.n.o.b; and Szmula, having done all this _proprio sumptu et cura_, to satisfy his taste for elegance, congratulated himself upon the effect. In the second room the Jewish dirt began to a.s.sert itself, but did not exclude attempts and pretensions to elegance. Above the bed was placed a fringed canopy with curtains covered with enormous flowers. Near this might be seen a cupboard of black wood, full of books and papers, and a small rickety bureau; also a pile of potatoes, one or two buckets of kindling-wood, some cakes of dough drying on a plate, a large earthen pan full of dish-water, and a white turkey, walking composedly about surrounded by her brood.

Szmula was no longer in his early youth. He was about fifty years old, and was married a second time, his late spouse having left him only one son, who kept a shop of his own in the next town. Not being satisfied with this only scion, Szmula had taken to wife a young Jewess, very poor but extremely beautiful, who had borne him three children during the three years of their marriage. His gray hairs were honoured by this blessing from the Lord. At first sight, this grave descendant of Israel was very pleasing, with his long beard and hair, his regular features, his serious and winning expression. One had a desire to study him closely, and to believe in his honesty. Nevertheless, his beauty and the sweet expression of his eyes were, as is so often the case, deceptive.

In fact, there could be no more insatiable vampire, no more greedy blood-sucker, than the worthy Szmula of the village of Popielnia. The constantly increasing profits earned by his deceit and tact did not render him above turning to account the smallest opportunities. Besides his bills of a thousand roubles and his coupons of government bonds, he deposited without shame in his chests the big copper money bathed with the sweat of the wretched peasants; and puffed up by his position and his wealth, he treated the poor villagers as though they were mere beasts of burden, and fleeced them without mercy.

The result was that when the villagers had any business to transact, they preferred to do so secretly with the poorer Jews who lived in the little town; and this aroused the deepest resentment in Szmula. He could not forgive them for being unwilling to allow him to cheat them.

He considered their conduct a daring revolt; and as an old tradition, founded upon some unknown basis, gave him the right to claim one pint of flour when a peasant took his corn to the mill, he thought therefore he had the right to fly into a rage and make a terrible fuss when a peasant took his cow to the market or sold a bag of corn without his royal permission. Gifted with indefatigable energy, Szmula neglected nothing, for all gain was acceptable to him, and he always had time for everything. His presence of mind and dexterity never forsook him.

Such was the all-powerful autocrat to whom the simple-hearted Iermola was about to apply in the hope of buying his white goat. Fortunately, he had with him old Chwedko, who was infinitely better acquainted than he with all the subtleties of human rascality; who, experienced, cunning, and prudent, spared neither time nor words nor pains when the question was to economize or to earn a little money. As they went along, therefore, Chwedko gave all sorts of advice to Iermola, but the latter heard little of it, so absorbed was he with his own plans for obtaining the goat.

Unfortunately this old animal was the pet of Sara, Szmula's second wife, and also of her eldest son, who often amused himself by pulling the goat's beard, although she had more than once mercilessly trampled upon him. The goat in question was not worth more than twelve florins; but Iermola was quite willing to give twenty rather than not get it, and even Chwedko thought this a not unreasonable price considering the circ.u.mstances. But how were they to approach the subject and make this proposition to Szmula? If the Jew for a moment suspected how exceedingly necessary the animal was to poor Iermola, he would take advantage of the situation and fleece him unmercifully.

The question therefore was, if possible, to deceive the Jew, so that he should not have the opportunity to rob the unfortunate Iermola.

When the two men were within a short distance of the inn, Chwedko, who had reflected for some time, made a sign to Iermola to stop.

"Stay here a moment, near this cottage," said he, pointing to the spot.

"Wait here a moment for me; I will go and feel the Jew's pulse. Do not fear; I will find some good way to arrange the matter. If we go and ask him for his goat outright, he will make us pay as much for it as the price of a cow. We must manage to have him offer it to us; leave it all to me."

"But what are you going to do?"

"You shall see; you shall see," answered good old Chwedko, deeply interested in Iermola's project. "Only be careful to do just what I tell you."

Then Iermola, making a great effort to be quiet, seated himself on the ground beside the wall of the hut, for he was in great need of rest for mind and body. He leaned his head on his hand and fell into deep thought. For the first time in his life he was obliged to think of the future.

As for Chwedko, he went straight to the great dining hall of the inn, but Szmula was not there,--no one was there, only the goat. Partly opening the door of the chamber, carefully wiping his feet, and humbly asking permission to enter, he stepped inside with a low bow and holding his cap under his arm. He took special care not to step off the door-mat, for the Jew flew into a rage if any one soiled the floor of his chamber. Having established himself firmly in his position, Chwedko dropped his hand down to his knees and made another low bow to the dreaded Szmula.

In order to be favourably received by the innkeeper, it was really necessary to go through with all these formalities, as the far-seeing Chwedko well knew,--first to wipe one's feet, then stop at the threshold, and above all, not to call the worthy man Mr. Innkeeper, but instead, Mr. Merchant, for our Szmula maintained that if he kept an inn it was for his own entertainment, and that it was for his pleasure alone that he lived in the country.

"Well, what do you want, Chwedko?" asked the Jew, without rising from his easy-chair, where he was bending his head, with his long nose over a book, yet ready without hesitation to interrupt his devotions whenever his interests required it, for he knew very well that G.o.d is more patient than man.

"Mr. Merchant--I want to tell you--there is an occasion."