Marianna could scarcely restrain her chuckling. She was pleased to think that Böhnke was to have this vexation, for was he treating the master as he should? No, he did not wish him well, she felt that. The woman was the Pani, she could do what she liked; but strangers were not to hurt her master, she would not stand that. The maid grinned like a gnome; it served the schoolmaster right. If the Pani had chosen this man, then she, Marianna, would take Mr. Mikolai; he was not at all bad. He was certainly not so well-built as this one, he was a little more thick-set, but he too had a nice face with a little moustache; and when she came to think of it, he was even kinder. He had clapped her on her neck when he had come into the cow-shed with Rosa, where she was just milking a cow. And he had said "Good evening" to her, and had asked her with a merry laugh, "Who's your sweetheart, my girl?" Then she had had to laugh too, laugh so that the cow had grown restive and had knocked the pail, which she was holding between her knees, with its hind legs, so that the milk had been upset, the stool had fallen, and she with it.
CHAPTER IX
Mrs. Tiralla was kneeling in the confessional.
When the turn came for the sins against the sixth and ninth commandments, she trembled in all her limbs. How quickly and easily she had hitherto been able to answer in the negative when the question, "Have you had any unclean thoughts or desires?" had been put to her. But what was she to say now? How Father Szypulski, who knew her so well and whom she would probably meet again to-morrow or the day after, would stare at her when she confessed to him what had tortured her day and night for weeks and months, ever since Martin Becker had been at Starydwór. Especially at night when she tossed about so restlessly. If she were to whisper in a trembling voice that she longed for this man as she longed for her eternal salvation? And if the priest then questioned her further, if he went into particulars? If she had to describe every thought, every wish that filled her soul and her body, reveal them in such a way that her penitent confession might be followed by absolution in the Sacrament of Penance?
She felt overwhelmed with shame; she bent her head so low and whispered so softly that the confessor was not able to hear anything.
And Father Szypulski did not ask any questions; it was not necessary to go any further into the matter with this woman. Every country girl under sixteen had more to confess than she.
After resigning her seat in the confessional to a young peasant woman who looked contrite and anxious, Mrs. Tiralla repeated the prescribed prayers before the high altar, and then hastened home.
She hurried along as much as possible; she had even hurried over her prayers. What had they been doing at home during her absence? Was he sitting with Rosa again? It was not at all proper, the child was too old for that. Yes, the time was approaching when she would have to be taken to Posen, for it was better for her that she should not become acquainted with what could never be her lot--must never be her lot--never, never.
The woman's eyes blazed as she hurried along. She pressed her Prayer-book to her beating heart, and threw her head back with a proud movement. She had been to confession, and she, the beautiful Mrs. Tiralla, was now returning home with her sins forgiven.
As she approached the farm she met the schoolmaster coming away from it. She gave him a nod and wanted to hurry past him. Her uneasiness drove her on--what were they doing at home; what were they up to? But he barred her way, so that she was obliged to stop.