The man shuffled his feet restlessly. If it did not suit the woman that he had come with Mikolai, then he could pack up his belongings and be off again, rather to-day than to-morrow. He felt uncomfortable. If only she would talk; but she never opened her mouth except to say, "Finish what you've got in your cup." So he finished his coffee and let her pour out some more, and when he had finished that he let her fill the cup again. He was trying to make up his mind to get up, make her a bow, and go after Mikolai, whom that nice girl was showing about.
The daylight began to wane. The big, low room was only lighted by two small windows, and in the twilight that filled the room he saw--now that he had made up his mind to rise--that the white face opposite him was smiling. He felt quite embarrassed; was that meant for him? Yes, certainly, she was smiling at him in a friendly way--at least, her mouth was smiling, but her eyes still retained their strange, fixed look. Was the woman sad? It seemed so. True, Mr. Tiralla was no longer a young husband, and he was not a handsome one, but had not the woman a daughter who was so tall and so nearly grown-up that she could soon be a grandmother?
Rosa had pleased the young man. When the girl had returned Mikolai's kiss at the station, shyly and reservedly, but still warmly and heartily, he had almost envied his friend. It must be nice to have a sister like that, and--and to teach such a young girl how to kiss. Where would the two be now? In the cowshed? Or in the enclosure, where the mare was grazing with the foal that Rosa had spoken about? How prettily the little one had spoken about the mare and her child; it had sounded very sweet. Becker sighed involuntarily; oh, what a bore it was to have to sit here in this room, whilst those two were enjoying themselves outside.
"Why are you sighing?" inquired the woman at that moment. Her voice sounded soft and veiled in the twilight. The tone frightened him. "What are you thinking of? Don't you like being here?"
He grew still more frightened. Did she know what he had been thinking of? The woman was a witch who could look at you inside and out. He grew red and then vexed; what was it to her what he was thinking of? Well, as she already knew it, yes, he wanted to go away. But he said nothing of that to her, he stammered something, hesitated, and grew quite confused. By gad! how beautiful the woman was!
Mrs. Tiralla bent a little forward over the table, so that her face was nearer to him. In spite of the increasing obscurity the young man saw her eyes gleam. Her voice sounded very ingratiating as she said:
"I'm so pleased that you've both come, you and Mikolai. Mr. Tiralla is old. Now there are some young people in the house." She gave a slight sigh. "And he has got into the way of drinking, I'm sorry to say. It's so lonely for Rosa and me. Such a young girl wants a change too."
Oh, certainly. The young man understood that perfectly, he agreed with her mother that it could not be very amusing for a young girl there. Conquering his shyness, he asked if Miss Rosa had no friends whatever in the neighbourhood, and if she did not take part in any of the amusements in Gradewitz, or whatever the nearest town was called.
"What are you thinking of?" Mrs. Tiralla gave a soft little laugh. "Rosa isn't fifteen yet, she's still a child. Don't say 'Miss,' Mr. Becker. Besides"--she sighed again and became very serious--"my daughter will never care for what you, what people call amusements. Rosa has chosen another path for herself; she's going to the Grey Sisters, or to the Ladies of the Sacred Heart, who have that large hospital on the Wilda in Posen."
"To the Ladies of the Sacred Heart in Posen?" The young fellow looked quite horrified. Was it possible that that little thing with her curly hair and bright face wanted to be a nun? To be pious was all well and good--Martin liked to go to Mass every Sunday, and regularly went to confession as an orthodox Christian is expected to do--but in a convent! ugh! He shuddered. "Psia krew!" he burst out, "such a young girl doesn't know what she's doing. You shouldn't let her, Mrs. Tiralla," he said, almost upbraidingly. Why did the beautiful woman blink at him so with her black eyes? And she was going to put her young daughter into a convent? He would tell Mikolai, he ought certainly not to allow it. He struck the table a slight blow with his clenched fist that was so full of nervous strength. "That would almost be like murder," he said vehemently, and then added, quite shaken, "Foolish little girl, foolish little girl."