Tales by Polish Authors Part 9

'I'll show them who it is they have offended!' he cried from the carriage.

And, covered with his medals, he drove along to the trial like a conqueror.

As a matter of fact, the trial went in his favour. The judge decided to be lenient under the circ.u.mstances: Bartek was only condemned to three months' imprisonment.

In addition to this he had to pay a fine of 150 marks to the Boege family and 'other injured colonists.'

'Nevertheless the prisoner,' wrote the _Posener Zeitung_ in the Criminal Report, 'showed not the slightest sign of contrition when the sentence was pa.s.sed on him, but poured forth such a stream of invective, and began to enumerate his so-called services to the State in such an impudent manner, that it is surprising these insults to the Court and the German nation,' etc., etc.

Meanwhile Bartek in prison quietly recalled his deeds at Gravelotte, Sedan, and Paris.

We should, however, be doing an injustice in a.s.serting that Herr Boege's action called forth no public censure. Very much the reverse.

On a certain rainy morning a Polish Member of Parliament pointed out with great eloquence that the att.i.tude of the Government towards the Poles had altered in Posen; that, considering the courage and sacrifice displayed by the Polish regiments during the war, it would be fitting to have more regard for justice in the Polish provinces; finally, that Herr Boege at Pognebin had abused his position as schoolmaster by beating a Polish child, calling it a Polish pig, and holding out hopes that after this war the inhabitants would trample the native population under foot. The rain fell as the Member was speaking, and as such weather makes people sleepy, the Conservatives yawned, the National-Liberals yawned, the Centre yawned,--for they were still being faced by the 'Kultur-Kampf.'

Following immediately on this 'Polish question' the Chamber proceeded to the order of the day.

Meanwhile Bartek sat in prison, or rather, he lay in the prison infirmary, for the blow from the stone had re-opened the wound which he had received in the war.

When not feverish, he thought and thought, like the turkeyc.o.c.k that died of thinking. But Bartek did not die, he merely did not arrive at any conclusion.

Now and then, however, during moments, which Science names 'lucida intervalla,' it occurred to him that he had perhaps exerted himself unnecessarily in 'doing for' the French.

Difficult times followed for Magda. The fine had to be paid, and there was nothing with which to pay it. The priest at Pognebin offered to help, but it turned out that there were not quite forty marks in his money box. The parish of Pognebin was poor; besides, the good old man never knew how his money went. Count Jarzynski was not at home. It was said that he had gone love-making to some rich lady in Prussia.

Magda did not know where to turn.

An extension of the loan was not to be thought of. What else, then?

Should she sell the horse or the cows? Meanwhile Winter pa.s.sed into Spring, the hardest time of all. It would soon be harvest, when she would need money for extra labour, and even now it was all exhausted.

The woman wrung her hands in despair. She sent a pet.i.tion to the Magistrate, recalling Bartek's services; she never even received an answer. The time for repayment of the loan was drawing near, and the sequestration with it.

She prayed and prayed, remembering bitterly the time when they were well off, and when Bartek used to earn money at the factory in winter.

She tried to borrow money from her neighbours; they had none. The war had made itself felt all round. She did not dare to go to Just, because she was in his debt already, and had not even paid the interest. However, Just unexpectedly came to see her himself.

One afternoon she was sitting in the cottage doorway doing nothing, for despair had drained her strength. She was gazing before her at two golden b.u.t.terflies chasing one another in the air, and thinking 'how happy those creatures are, they live for themselves and needn't pay'--and so on. After a while she sighed heavily, and a low cry broke from her pale lips: 'Oh G.o.d! G.o.d!' Suddenly at the gate appeared Just's long nose, and his long pipe beneath it. The woman turned pale.

Just addressed her:--

'Morgen!'

'How are you, Herr Just?'

'What about my money?'

'Oh, my dear Herr Just, have pity! I am very poor, and what am I to do? They have taken my man away,--I have to pay the fine for him,--and I don't know where to turn. It would be better to die than to be worried like this from day to day. Do wait a while longer, dear Herr Just!'

She burst out crying, and seizing Herr Just's fat, red hand, she kissed it humbly. 'The Count will be back soon, then I will borrow from him, and give it back to you.'

'Well, and how will you repay the fine?'

'How can I tell?--I might sell the cow.'

'Then I will lend you some more.'

'May G.o.d Almighty repay you, my dear Sir! Although you are a Lutheran, you are a good man. I speak the truth! If only other Germans were like you, Sir, one might bless them.'

'But I don't lend money without interest.'

'I know, I know.'

'Then write me one receipt for it all.'

'You are a kind gentleman, may G.o.d repay you too in the same way.'

'We will draw up the bill when I go into the town.'

He went into the town and drew up the bill, but Magda had gone to the priest for advice beforehand. Yet what could he advise? The priest said he was very sorry for her; the time given for repayment was short, the interest was high, Count Jarzynski was not at home; had he been, he might have helped. Magda, however, could not wait until the team was sold, and she was obliged to accept Just's terms. She contracted a debt of three hundred marks, that is, twice the amount of the fine, for it was certainly necessary to have a few pence in the house to carry on the housekeeping. On account of the importance of the doc.u.ment, Bartek was obliged to sign it, and for this reason Magda went to see him in prison. The conqueror was very depressed, dejected, and ill. He had wished to forward a pet.i.tion, setting forth his grievances, but pet.i.tions were not accepted;--opinion in Administrative circles had turned against him since the Articles in the _Posener Zeitung_. For were not these very Authorities bound to afford protection to the peaceful German population, who, during the recent war, had given so many proofs of devotion and sacrifice to the Fatherland? They were therefore obliged in fairness to reject Bartek's pet.i.tion. But it is not surprising that this should have depressed him at last.

'We are done for all round,' he said to his wife.

'All round,' she repeated.

Bartek began to ruminate deeply on the circ.u.mstances.

'It's a cruel injustice to me,' he said.

'That man Boege persecutes one,' Magda replied. 'I went to implore him, and he called me names too. Ah! the Germans have the upper hand now at Pognebin. They aren't afraid of anyone.'

'Of course, for they are the strongest,' Bartek said sadly.

'As I am a plain woman, I tell you G.o.d is the strongest.'

'In Him is our refuge,' added Bartek.

They were both silent a moment, then he asked again:--

'Well, and what of Just?'

'If the Lord Almighty gives us a crop, then perhaps we shall be able to repay him. Possibly too the Count will help us, although he himself has debts with the German. They said even before the war that he would have to sell Pognebin. Let us hope that he will bring home a rich wife.'

'But will he be back soon?'

'Who knows? They say at the house that he will soon be coming with his wife. And directly he is back the Germans will be upon him. It's always those Germans! They are as plentiful as worms! Wherever one looks, whichever way one turns, whether in the village or the town--Germans for our sins! But where are we to get help from?'

'Perhaps you can decide on something, for you are a clever woman.'

'What can I advise? Should I have borrowed money from Just if I could have helped it? I did it for a good reason, but now the cottage in which we are settled, and the land also are already his. Just is better than other Germans, but he too has an eye to his own profit, not other people's. He won't be lenient to us any more than he has been lenient to others. I am not so stupid as not to know why he sticks his money in here! But what is one to do, what is one to do?'

she cried, wringing her hands. 'Give some advice yourself, if you are clever. You can beat the French, but what will you do without a roof over your head, or a crust to eat?'

The victor of Gravelotte bent his head. 'Oh Jesu! Jesu!'