The Pobratim Part 34

See how these fearful flames deflower these b.r.e.a.s.t.s-- The fountain that hath fed thine infant's life-- See, they are oozing o'er with drops of milk."

But Gjuro's eyes were blind, his ears were deaf; A viper now was coiled around his heart, That urged him to heap up the pile with wood.

The rising flames began to blind her eyes; Still, ere the fearful smoke had choked her breath, She cast on Gjuro one long loving glance, And craved, in anguish, mercy on her youth: "Have pity on my burning eyes, and let Me look once more upon my little child."

To all her cries his cruel soul was shut; He only fanned and fed the fatal flame, Until the faithless wife was burnt to death.

A moment of deep silence followed; the men twisted their moustaches silently, the women stealthily wiped away their tears with the back of their hands.

"Gjuro was a brute!" at last broke out a youth, impetuously.

n.o.body answered at once; then an elderly man said, slowly:

"Perhaps he was, but you are not a husband yet, Tripko; you are only in love. Adultery, amongst us, is no trifle, as it is in Venice, for instance; we Slavs never forgive."

"I don't say he ought to have forgiven; in his place I might have strangled her, but as for burning a woman alive, as a torch, I find it heinous!"

Milena, who had fancied herself in Jeljena's place, could not refrain her sobs any longer; moreover, it seemed to her as if her guilt had been found out, and she wished the earth would open and swallow her alive.

"Oh, my poor Milena!" said Mara, soothingly, "you are too tender-hearted; it is only a _pisma_, after all." Then, turning to her neighbour, she added: "She has not been well for some days, and then----" she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I am sorry," said the bard, "that I upset you in this way but----"

"Oh! it is nothing, only I fancied I could see the poor woman burning; it was so dreadful!"

"Here," said Bellacic, "have a gla.s.s of _slivovitz_; it'll set you all right. Moreover, listen; I'll tell you a much finer story, only pay great attention, for I'm not very clever at story-telling. Are you all ears?"

"Yes," said Milena, smiling.

"Well, once upon a time, there was a man who had three dogs: the first was called Catch-it-quick; the second, Bring-it-back; and the third, I-know-better. Now, one morning this man got up very early to go out hunting, so he called Catch-it-quick, Bring-it-back, and --and--how stupid I am! now I've forgotten the name of the other dog.

Well, I said I wasn't good in telling stories; what was it?"

"I-know-better," interrupted Milena.

"No doubt you do, my dear, so perhaps you'll continue the story yourself, as you know better."

Everybody laughed, and the gloom that had come over the company after the bard's story was now dispelled.

"Radonic is late; I'm afraid, Milena, if you went back home, you'd have to prepare a stake for him," said Markovic. Then, turning to the bard: "Come, Stoyan, give us another _pisma_."

"Yes, but something merry," interrupted Tripko; "tell us some verses about the great _Kraglievic_."

The bard, contrary to his wont, was sipping his gla.s.s of _slivovitz_ very slowly; he now finished it and said:

"I'll try, though, to tell you the truth, I'm rather out of sorts this evening; I really don't know why. There is an echo, as if of a crime, in the slightest noise, a smell of blood in every gust of wind. Do you not hear anything? Well, perhaps, I am mistaken."

Everyone looked at one another wistfully, for they all knew that old Stoyan was something of a prophet.

"There! listen," said he, staring vacantly; "did you not hear?"

"No," said Bellacic; "what was it?"

"Only the heavy thud of a man falling like a corpse on the ground,"

and as he said these words he crossed himself devoutly and muttered to himself: "May the Lord forgive him, whoever he is." Thereupon everybody present crossed himself, saying: "_Bog nas ovari._"

Milena shuddered and grew deathly pale; though she was not gifted with second sight, she saw in her mind's eye something so dreadful that it almost made her faint with terror. Mara, seeing her ghastly pale, said:

"Come, give us this song, but let it be something brisk and merry, for the howling of the wind outside is like a funeral wail, and it is that lament which makes us all so moody to-night."

"You are right, _gospodina_; besides, one man more or less--provided he is no relation of ours--is really no great matter. How many thousands fell treacherously at Kossoro." Then, taking up his bow, he began to sc.r.a.pe the chord of his _guzla_, in a swift, jerking, sprightly way.

"What is it?" asked Bellacic.

And Stoyan replied, as he began to sing:

MARKO KRAGLIEVIC'S FALCON.

A falcon flies o'er Budua town; It bears a gleaming golden crest, Its wings are gilt, so is its breast; Of clear bright yellow is each claw, And with its sheen it lights the wold.

Then all the maids of Budua town Ask this fair sparkling bird of prey Why it is yellow and not grey?

Who gilded it without a flaw?

Who gave it that bright crest of gold?

And to the maids of Budua town That falcon shy did thus reply: Listen, ye maids, and know that I Belong to Mark the warrior brave, Who is as fair as he is bold.

His sisters dwell in Budua town The first, the fairest of the two, Painted my claws a yellow hue, And gilt my wings; great Marko gave To me this sparkling crest of gold.

He finished, and then, as it was getting late, everyone began to wish Bellacic and Mara good-night and to go off. Several of the guests offered to see Milena home, but the _domacica_ insisted that her kinswoman should remain and spend the night with her, and Milena consented full willingly, for she dreaded going back home.

When all the guests had gone, Mara took Milena in bed with her; but she, poor thing, could not find rest, for the words of the bard kept ever ringing in her ears. Then she saw again the great-coat lying on the floor, looking like a corpse; and, in the howling wind, she thought she heard a voice calling for help. Who was it? Radonic or Vranic?

It was only the wind howling outside through the trees, creeping slily along the whitewashed walls of the houses, stealthily trying to find some small cranny wherein to creep, then shrieking with a shrill cry of exultation when it had come to an open window, or when, discovering some huge keyhole, it could whistle undisturbed.

At last, just as Milena began to get drowsy, and her heavy eyelids were almost closed, she again saw the _kabanica_, which had--some hours ago--been lying on the floor, rise and twist itself into the most grotesque and fantastic att.i.tudes, then--almost hidden under the hood--Vranic's face making mouths at her. She opened her eyes widely, and although consciousness had now returned, and she knew that the great-coat had been left in the other room, still she saw it plainly dancing and capering like a monkey. She s.h.i.+vered and shuddered; she closed her eyes not to see it; still, it became ever more distinct.

Then she buried her face in the pillow, and covered up her head in the sheet; then by degrees a feeling of drowsiness came over her, and just as she was going off to sleep the _kabanica_, which was standing erect, fell all at once to the ground with a mighty thud that almost shook the whole house, and even seemed to precipitate her down some bottomless hole. In her terror she clutched at Mara, who was fast asleep, and woke her.

"What's the matter?" asked the elderly woman.

"I heard a loud voice; didn't you hear it?"

"No, I had just dropped off to sleep."

Thereupon both the women listened, but the house was perfectly quiet.

"What kind of a noise was it?"

"Like a man falling heavily on the ground."

"You must have been dreaming; Stoyan's words frightened you, that's all, unless the cat or the dog knocked something down. You know, at night every noise sounds strange, uncouth, whilst in the day-time we'd never notice them. Now, the best thing you can do is to try and go off to sleep."