Tales by Polish Authors Part 10

Magda had a kind heart; Bartek's grief touched her, so she said quickly:--

'Never mind, dear boy, never mind. Don't worry as long as you are not yet well. The rye is so fine, it's bending to the ground; the wheat the same. The ground doesn't belong to the Germans; it's as good as ever it was. The fields were in a bad state before your quarrel, but now they are growing so well, you'll see!'

Magda began to smile through her tears.

'The ground doesn't belong to the Germans,' she repeated once more.

'Magda!' Bartek said, looking at her with wide-open eyes, 'Magda!'

'What?'

'But,--because you are ... if....'

Bartek felt deep grat.i.tude towards her, but he could not express it.

CHAPTER IX

In truth Magda was worth more than ten other women put together. Her manner towards Bartek was rather curt, but she was really attached to him. In moments of excitement, as, for example, in the prison, she told him to his face that he was stupid; nevertheless, before other people she would generally exclaim:--'My Bartek pretends to be stupid, but that's his slyness.' She used frequently to say this. As a matter of fact, Bartek was about as cunning as his horse, and without Magda he would have been unable to manage either his holding or anything else. Now, when everything rested on her honest shoulders, she left no stone unturned, running hither and thither to beg for help. A week after her last visit to the prison infirmary she ran in again to see Bartek, breathless, beaming, and happy.

'My word, Bartek, how are you?' she exclaimed gleefully. 'Do you know the Count has arrived! He was married in Prussia; the young lady is a beauty! But he has done well for himself all round in getting her; fancy,--just fancy!'

The owner of Pognebin had really been married and come home with his wife, and had actually done very well by himself all round in finding her.

'Well, and what of that?' enquired Bartek.

'Be quiet, Blockhead,' Magda replied. 'Oh! how out of breath I am! Oh Jesu! I went to pay my respects to the lady. I looked at her: she came out to meet me like a queen, as young and charming as a flower, and as beautiful as the dawn!--Oh dear, how out of breath I am!--'

Magda took her handkerchief, and began to wipe the perspiration from her face. The next instant she started talking again in a gasping voice:--

'She had a blue dress like that blue-bottle. I fell at her feet, and she gave me her hand;--I kissed it,--and her hands are as sweet and tiny as a child's. She is just like a saint in a picture, and she is good, and feels for poor people. I began to beg her for help.--May G.o.d give her health!--And she said, "I will do," she said, "whatever lies in my power." And she has such a pretty little voice that when she speaks one does feel pleased. So then I began to tell her that there are unhappy people in Pognebin, and she said, "Not only in Pognebin,"

and then I burst into tears, and she too. And then the Count came in, and he saw that she was crying, so he would have liked to take her and give her a little kiss. Gentlefolk aren't like us! Then she said to him, "Do what you can for this woman." And he said, "Anything in the world, whatever you wish."--May the Mother of G.o.d bless her, that lovely creature, may She bless her with children and with health!--The Count said at once: "You must be heavily in debt, if you have fallen into the hands of the Germans, but," he said, "I will help you, and also against Just."'

Bartek began to scratch his neck.

'But the Germans have got hold of him too.'

'What of that? His wife is rich. They could buy all the Germans in Pognebin now, so it was easy for him to talk like that. "The election," he said, "is coming on before long, and people had better take care not to vote for Germans; but I will make short work of Just and Boege." And the lady put her arm round his neck,--and the Count asked after you, and said, "if he is ill, I will speak to the doctor about giving him a certificate to show that he is unfit to be imprisoned now. If they don't let him off altogether," he said, "he will be imprisoned in the winter, but he is needed now for working the crops." Do you hear? The Count was in the town yesterday, and invited the doctor to come on a visit to Pognebin to-day. He's not a German.

He'll write the certificate. In the winter you'll sit in prison like a king, you'll be warm, and they'll give you meat to eat; and now you are going home to work, and Just will be repaid, and possibly the Count won't want any interest, and if we can't give it all back in the Autumn, I'll beg it from the lady. May the Mother of G.o.d bless her....

Do you hear?'

'She is a good lady. There are not many such!' Bartek said at once.

'You must fall at her feet, I tell you,--but no, for then that lovely head would bend to you! If only G.o.d grants us a crop. And do you see where the help has come from? Was it from the Germans? Did they give a single penny for your stupid head? Well, they gave you as much as it was worth! Fall at the lady's feet, I say!'

'I can't do otherwise,' Bartek replied resolutely.

Fortune seemed to smile on the conqueror once more. He was informed some days later that for reasons of health he would be released from prison until the winter. He was ordered to appear before the Magistrate. The man who, bayonet in hand, had seized flags and guns, now began to fear a uniform more than death. A deep, unconscious feeling was growing in his mind that he was being persecuted, that they could do as they liked with him, and that there was some mighty, yet malevolent and evil power above him, which, if he resisted, would crush him. So there he stood before the Magistrate, as formerly before Steinmetz, upright, his body drawn in, his chest thrown forward, not daring to breathe. There were some officers present also: they represented war and the military prison to Bartek. The officers looked at him through their gold eye-gla.s.ses with the pride and disdain befitting Prussian officers towards a private soldier and Polish peasant. He stood holding his breath, and the Magistrate said something in a commanding tone. He did not ask or persuade, he commanded and threatened. A Member had died in Berlin, and the writs for a fresh election had been issued.

'You Polish dog, just you dare to vote for Count Jarzynski, just you dare!'

At this the officers knitted their brows into threatening leonine wrinkles. One, lighting his cigar, repeated after the Magistrate 'Just you dare!' and Bartek the Conqueror's heart died within him. When he heard the order given, 'Go!' he made a half turn to the left, went out and took breath. They told him to vote for Herr Schulberg of Great Krzywda; he paid no attention to the command, but took a deep breath.

For he was going to Pognebin, he could be at home during harvest time, the Count had promised to pay Just. He walked out of the town; the ripening cornfields surrounded him on every side, the heavy blades hurtling one another in the wind, and murmuring with a sound dear to the peasant's ear. Bartek was still weak, but the sun warmed him. 'Ah!

how beautiful the world is!' this worn-out soldier thought.

It was not much further to Pognebin.

CHAPTER X

'The Election! The Election!'

Countess Marya Jarzynski's head was full of it, and she thought, talked and dreamt of nothing else.

'You are a great politician,' an aristocratic neighbour said to her, kissing her small hands in a snake-like way. But the 'great politician' blushed like a cherry, and answered with a beautiful smile:--

'Oh, we only do what we can!'

'Count Jzef will be elected,' the n.o.bleman said with conviction, and the 'great politician' answered:--

'I should wish it very much, though not alone for Jzef's sake, but'

(here the 'great politician' dropped her imprudent hands again), 'for the common cause...'

'By G.o.d! Bismarck is in the right!' cried the n.o.bleman, kissing the tiny hands once more. After which they proceeded to discuss the canva.s.sing. The n.o.bleman himself undertook Krzywda Dolna and Mizerw, (Great Krzywda was lost, for Herr Schulberg owned all the property there), and Countess Marya was to occupy herself specially with Pognebin. She was all aglow with the _rle_ she was to fill, and she certainly lost no time. She was daily to be seen at the cottages on the main road, holding her skirt with one hand, her parasol with the other, while from under her skirt peeped her tiny feet, tripping enthusiastically in the great political cause. She went into the cottages, she said to the people working on the road, 'The Lord help you!' She visited the sick, made herself agreeable to the people, and helped where she could. She would have done the same without politics, for she had a kind heart, but she did it all the more on this account.

Why should not she also contribute her share to the political cause?

But she did not dare confess to her husband that she had an irresistible desire to attend the village meeting. In imagination she had even planned the speech she would make at the meeting. And what a speech it would be! What a speech! True, she would certainly never dare to make it, but if she dared--why then! Consequently when the news reached Pognebin that the Authorities had prohibited the meeting, the 'great politician' burst into a fit of anger, tore one handkerchief up completely, and had red eyes all day. In vain her husband begged her not to 'demean' herself to such a degree; next day the canva.s.sing was carried on with still greater fervour. Nothing stopped Countess Marya now. She visited thirteen cottages in one day, and talked so loudly against the Germans that her husband was obliged to check her. But there was no danger. The people welcomed her gladly, they kissed her hands and smiled at her, for she was so pretty and her cheeks were so rosy that wherever she went she brought brightness with her. Thus she came to Bartek's cottage also. Although Lysek did not bark at her, Magda in her excitement hit him on the head with a stick.

'Oh lady, my beautiful lady, my dear lady!' cried Magda, seizing her hands.

In accordance with his resolve, Bartek threw himself at her feet, while little Franek first kissed her hand, then stuck his thumb into his mouth and lost himself in whole-hearted admiration.

'I hope'--the young lady said after the first greetings were over,--'I hope, my friend Bartek, that you will vote for my husband, and not for Herr Schulberg.'

'Oh my dear lady!' Magda exclaimed, 'who would vote for Schulberg?--Give him the ten plagues! The lady must excuse me, but when one gets talking about the Germans, one can't help what one says.'

'My husband has just told me that he has repaid Just.'

'May G.o.d bless him!' Here Magda turned to Bartek. 'Why do you stand there like a post? I must beg the lady's pardon, but he's wonderfully dumb.'

'You will vote for my husband, won't you?' the lady asked. 'You are Poles, and we are Poles, so we will hold to one another.'

'I should throttle him if he didn't vote for him,' Magda said. 'Why do you stand there like a post? He's wonderfully dumb. Bestir yourself a bit!'

Bartek again kissed the lady's hand, but he remained silent, and looked as black as night. The Magistrate was in his mind.

The day of the Election drew near, and arrived. Count Jarzynski was certain of victory. All the neighbourhood a.s.sembled at Pognebin. After voting the gentlemen returned there from the town to wait for the priest, who was to bring the news. Afterwards there was to be a dinner, but in the evening the n.o.ble couple were going to Posen, and subsequently to Berlin also. Several villages in the Electoral Division had already polled the day beforehand. The result would be made known on this day. The company was in a cheerful frame of mind.

The young lady was slightly nervous, yet full of hope and smiles, and made such a charming hostess that everyone agreed Count Jzef had found a real treasure in Prussia. This treasure was quite unable at present to keep quiet in one place, and ran from guest to guest, asking each for the hundredth time to a.s.sure her that 'Jzio would be elected.' She was not actually ambitious, and it was not out of vanity that she wished to be the wife of a Member, but she was dreaming in her young mind that she and her husband together had a real mission to accomplish. So her heart beat as quickly as at the moment of her wedding, and her pretty little face was lighted up with joy. Skilfully manuvering amidst her guests, she approached her husband, drew him by the hand, and whispered in his ear, like a child, nicknaming someone, 'The Hon. Member!' He smiled, and both were happy at the most trifling word. They both felt a great wish to give one another a warm embrace, but owing to the presence of their guests, this could not be.

Everyone, however, was looking out of the window every moment, for the question was a really important one. The former Member, who had died, was a Pole, and this was the first time in this Division that the Germans had put up a candidate of their own. Their military success had evidently given them courage, but just for that reason it the more concerned those a.s.sembled at the manor house at Pognebin to secure the election of their candidate. Before dinner there was no lack of patriotic speeches, which especially moved the young hostess who was unaccustomed to them. Now and then she suffered an access of fear.