"Magda, here I am!" Bartek cried, throwing her a kiss, and hurrying towards her. He opened the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all but fell, recovered himself,--and they were clasped in one anothers"
arms.
The woman began to speak quickly:
"And I had thought that you would not come back. I thought "they will kill him!"--How are you?--Let me see. How good to look at you! You are terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor fellow!--Oh, my dearest!... He has come back, come back!"
For one moment she tore herself from his neck and looked at him, then threw herself on to it again.
"Come back! The Lord be praised! Bartek, my darling! How are you? Go indoors! Franek is at school being teased by that horrid German! The boy is well. He"s as dull in the upper storey as you are. Oh, but it was time for you to come back! I didn"t know any more which way to turn. I was miserable, I tell you, miserable! This whole poor house is going into ruins. The roof is off the barn. How are you? Oh, Bartek!
Bartek! That I should actually see you, after all! What trouble I have had with the hay!--The neighbours helped me, but they did it to help themselves! How are you?--Well? Oh, but I am glad to have you,--glad!
The Lord watched over you. Go indoors. By G.o.d, it"s like Bartek, and not like Bartek! What"s the matter with you? Oh dear! Oh dear!"
At that instant Magda had become aware of a long scar running along Bartek"s face across his left temple and cheek and down to his beard.
"It"s nothing.--A Cuira.s.sier did it for me, but I did the same for him. I have been in hospital."
"Oh Jesu!"
"Why, it"s a mere flea-bite."
"But you are starved to death."
"Ruhig!" answered Bartek.
He was in truth emaciated, begrimed and in rags:--a true conqueror! He swayed too as he stood.
"What"s wrong with you? Are you drunk?"
"I--am still weak."
That he was weak, was certain, but he was tipsy also. For one gla.s.s of vodka would have been sufficient in his state of exhaustion, and Bartek had drunk something like four at the station. The result was that he had the bearing of the true conqueror. He had not been like this formerly.
"Ruhig!" he repeated. "We have finished the Krieg. I am a gentleman now, do you understand? Look here!" he pointed to his crosses and medals. "Do you know who I am? Eh? Links! Rechts! Heu! Stroh! Halt!"
At the word, "halt," he gave such a shrill shout that the woman recoiled several steps.
"Are you mad?"
"How are you, Magda? When I say to you "how are you" then how are you?
Do you know French, stupid? "Musiu, Musiu!" What is "Musiu?" I am a "Musiu," do you understand?"
"Man, what"s up with you?"
"What"s that to you! Was? "Don diner," do you understand?"
A storm began to gather on Magda"s brow.
"What rubbish are you jabbering? What"s this,--you don"t know Polish?
That"s all through those wretches. I said how it would be! What have they done to you?"
"Give me something to eat!"
"Be quick indoors."
Every command made an irresistible impression on Bartek; hearing this "Be quick" he drew himself up, held his hand stiffly to his side, and, having made a half-turn, marched in the direction indicated. He stood still at the threshold, however, and began to look wonderingly at Magda.
"Well, what do you want, Magda? What do...?"
"Quick! March!"
He entered the cottage, but fell over the threshold. The vodka was now beginning to go to his head. He started singing, and looked round the cottage for Franek, even saying "Morgen, Kerl," although Franek was not there. After that he laughed loudly, staggered, shouted "Hurrah!"
and fell full length on the bed. In the evening he awoke sober and rested, and welcomed Franek, then, having got some pence out of Magda, he took his triumphant way to the inn. The glory of his deeds had already preceded him to Pognebin, since more than one of the soldiers from other divisions of the same regiment, having returned earlier, had related how he had distinguished himself at Gravelotte and Sedan.
So now when the rumour spread that the conqueror was at the inn, all his old comrades hastened there to welcome him.
No one would have recognized our friend Bartek, as he now sat at the table. He, formerly so meek, was to be seen striking his fist on the table, puffing himself out and gobbling like a turkey-c.o.c.k.
"Do you remember, you fellows, that time I did for the French, what Steinmetz said?"
"How could we forget?"
"People used to talk about the French, and be frightened of them, but they are a poor lot--_was_? They run like hares into the lettuce, and run away like hares too. They don"t drink beer either, nothing but strong wine."
"That"s it!"
"When we burnt a town they would wring their hands immediately and cry "Piti, piti,"[7] as if they meant they would give us a drink if we would only leave them alone. But we paid no attention to them."
"Then can one understand their gibberish?" enquired a young farmer"s lad.
"You wouldn"t understand, because you are stupid, but I understand.
"Don di pe!"[8] Do you understand?"
"But what did you do?"
"Do you know about Paris? We had one battle after another there, but we won them all. They have no good commanders. People say so too. "The ground enclosed by the hedge is good," they say, "but it has been badly managed." Their officers are bad managers, and their generals are bad managers, but on our side they are good."
Maciej Kierz, the wise old innkeeper of Pognebin, began to shake his head.
"Well, the Germans have been victorious in a terrible war; they have been victorious--but I always thought they would be. But the Lord alone knows what will come out of it for us."
Bartek stared at him.
"What do you say?"
"The Germans have never cared to consider us much, anyhow, but, now they will be as stuck up as if there were no G.o.d above them. And they will illtreat us still more than they do already."
"But that"s not true!" Bartek said.
Old Kierz was a person of such authority in Pognebin that all the village always thought as he did, and it was sheer audacity to contradict him. But Bartek was a conqueror now, and an authority himself. All the same they gazed at him in astonishment, and even in some indignation.