Selected Polish Tales Part 21

'Wait, Fritz,' interrupted the older man.

'Oh bother! are you going to gossip again, father?'

'Look here, gospodarz,' said the father, 'we have bought the squire's estate. Now we want this; hill, because we want to build a windmill....'

'Gracious!' exclaimed the son disagreeably, 'have you lost your senses, father? Listen! we want that land!'

'My land?' the peasant repeated in amazement, looking about him, 'my land?'

He hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'What right have you gentlemen to my land?'

'We have got money.'

'Money?...I!...Sell my land for money? We have been settled here from father to son; we were here at the time of the scourge of serfdom, and even then we used to call the land "ours". My father got it for his own by decree from the Emperor Alexander II; the Land Commission settled all that, and we have the proper doc.u.ments with signatures attached.

How can you say now that you want to buy my land?'

The younger man had turned away indifferently during Slimak's long speech and whistled, the older man shook his fist impatiently.

'But we want to buy it...pay for it...cash! Sixty roubles an acre.'

'And I wouldn't sell it for a hundred,' said Slimak.

'Perhaps we could come to terms, gospodarz.' The peasant burst out laughing.

'Old man, have you lived so long in this world, and don't understand that I would not sell my land on any terms whatever?'

'You could buy thirty acres the other side of the Bug with what we should pay you.'

'If land is so cheap the other side of the Bug, why don't you buy it yourself instead of coming here?' The son laughed.

'He is no fool, father; he is telling you what I have been telling you from morning till night.'

The old man took Slimak's hand.

'Gospodarz,' he said, pressing it, 'let us talk like Christians and not like heathens. We praise the same G.o.d, why should we not agree? You see, I have a son who is an expert miller, and I should like him to have a windmill on that hill. When he has a windmill he will grow steady and work and get married. Then I could be happy in my old age.

That hill is nothing to you.'

'But it's my land, no one has a right to it.'

'No one has a right to it, but I want to buy it.'

'Well, and I won't sell it!'

The old man made a wry face, as if he were ready to cry. He drew the peasant a few steps aside, and said in a voice trembling with emotion: 'Why are you so hard on me, gospodarz? You see, my sons don't hit it off with each other. The elder is a farmer, and I want to set up the younger as a miller and have him near me. I haven't long to live, I am eighty years old, don't quarrel with me.'

'Can't you buy land elsewhere?'

'Not very well. We are a whole community settling together; it would take a long time to make other arrangements. My son Wilhelm does not like farming, and unless I buy him a windmill he will starve or go away from me. I am an old man, sell me your land! Listen,' he whispered, 'I will give you seventy-five roubles an acre. G.o.d is my witness, I am offering you more than the land is worth. But you will let me have it, won't you? You are an honest man and a Christian.'

Slimak looked with astonishment and pity at the old man, from whose inflamed eyes the tears were pouring down.

'You can't have much sense, sir, to ask me such a thing,' he said.

'Would you ask a man to cut off his hand? What could a peasant do without his land?'

'You could buy twice as much. I will help you to find it.'

Slimak shook his head. 'You are talking as a man talks when he digs up a shrub in the woods. "Come," he says, "you shall be near my cottage!"

The shrub comes because it must, but it soon dies.'

The man with the beard approached and spoke to his father in German.

'So you won't sell me your land?' said the old man.

'I won't.'

'Not for seventy-five roubles?'

'No.'

'And I tell you, you will sell it,' cried the younger man, drawing his father away. They went towards the bridge, talking German loudly.

The peasant rested his chin on his hand and looked after them; then his eyes fell on the manor-house, and he returned to the cottage at full speed. 'Jagna,' he cried, 'do you know that the squire has sold his estate?' The gospodyni crossed herself with a spoon.

'In the name of the Father...Are you mad, Josef? Who told you so?'

'Two Germans spoke to me just now; they told me. And, Jagna, they want to buy our land, our own land!'

'You are off your head altogether!' cried the woman. 'Jendrek, go and see if there are any Germans about; your father is talking nonsense.'

Jendrek returned with the information that he had seen two men in blue overcoats the other side of the bridge.

Slimak sat on the bench, his head drooping, his hands resting limply on his knees. The morning light had turned grey, and made men and objects look dull. The gospodyni suddenly looked attentively at her husband.

'Why are you so pale?' she asked. 'What is the matter?'

'What is the matter? A nice question for a clever woman to ask! Don't you understand that the Germans will take the field away from us if the squire has sold it to them?'

'Why should they? We could pay the rent to them.'

The woman tried to talk confidently, but her voice was unsteady.

'You don't know what you're talking about! Germans keep cattle and are sharp after grazing land. Besides, they will want to get rid of me.'

'We shall see who gets rid of whom!' Slimakowa said sharply.

She came and stood in front of her husband, with her arms akimbo, gradually raising her voice.

'Lord, what a man! He has only just looked at the Swabian[1] vermin, and he has lost heart already. They will take away the field? Well, what of that? we will drive the cattle into it all the same.'