The peasants, [vol. 3] : $b SpringReymont, Władysław Stanisław
General
The peasants, [vol. 3] : $b Spring
Reymont, Władysław Stanisław
Peasants -- Poland -- Fiction; Polish fiction -- Translations into English
“No fool you! You would snap up the best lot of all!”
“Come, come; there’s enough for us all,” Gregory said to pacify them,
for they were near quarrelling over it!
“If the Squire agrees and gives up Podlesie to you,” observed Roch, “you
will all have a great deal of work to do.”
“We shall manage to get through with it, though!” they cried in great
glee.
“Work on one’s own land is never hard toil!”
“On such terms, who would not willingly take all the lands of the
Squire?”
“Let him but give it you—you would see!”
“Why, we should take root in the soil, like trees; let him pluck us
thence who can!”
And so they talked on, as they neared home; faster now, for they saw the
women running out to meet them.
CHAPTER XI
It was early dawn, and all the country was covered over with a deep
azure bloom of haze like a ripe plum, when Hanka drove up to the cabin,
whose inmates were all asleep as yet. But with the sharp clatter of the
wheels, Lapa fell to barking for joy, and leaping up in front of the
horses.
“Why, where is Antek?” Yuzka exclaimed on the door-step, putting on her
skirt over her head.
“He is to be released in three days only,” was the tranquil reply, as
Hanka kissed the little ones, and distributed pastry among them.
Vitek now came running out of the stable, and after him trotted the
colt, whinnying and going straight to the mare, still in harness, while
Pete was taking the parcels out of the cart.
“Have they begun to mow yet?” she asked, sitting down at once on the
threshold to give suck to her baby.
“Yes, they began at noon yesterday: five of them. Philip, Raphael and
Kobus to work out their debts to us; Adam Klemba and Matthew for hire.”
“What?—Matthew Golab?”
“I too thought it strange; but he would have it so. Said his carpentry
work made him stoop too much, and he wanted to get straight again,
scythe in hand.”
Yagna then opened her window and looked out.
“Is Father sleeping still?” she was asked.
“Aye, in the orchard. We left him out at night, so hot it is within
doors.”
“And your mother, what of her?”
“As usual; perhaps somewhat better. Ambrose, who tends her, came
yesterday with the shepherd of Vola, who fumigated her, rubbed her with
ointment, and said that, provided she stays at home till the ninth
Sunday from now, she will by then be healed.”
“’Tis the best remedy for a scald!” she said, and, passing her baby to
the other breast, listened attentively to what had occurred in her
absence. But not for long: it was now broad daylight, the sky flushing
red with bright streaks athwart the air. Dewdrops fell from the trees;
birds were garrulous in their nests; bleating and lowing resounded all
through the village, and hammers, hammering scythe-blades, whose thin
keen tinkling made a piercing din.
No sooner had Hanka undressed after her journey than she ran to Boryna,
who was lying asleep under a bed of down, in a great basket beneath the
trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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