They took him to the farm and gave him something to eat; but it was not bodily nourishment which the old man needed, it was the pleasure of seeing and having his child once more, of feasting and living in his presence, which alone could satisfy him and restore peace and comfort to his home.
Iermola did not complain; he knew very well that his child, his dear child, was not to blame for this neglect and desertion; that Radionek's parents and tutors endeavoured by every means in their power to make him forget the existence of his adoptive father; and that the child, whenever he could see him, would whisper to him with tears that he would like to run away and go back to Popielnia.
XVII.
[IN BONDAGE]
Iermola's pupil was soon scarcely to be recognized; the hearty village child when dressed in the costume of the nobility, fed on choice and delicate food, and shut up between four walls quickly began to grow pale and dwindle away.
And although he had grown rapidly tall and slender, he was like a tall frail plant which the least breath of wind could overturn.
His mother mourned over him; even his father became anxious. They redoubled their care and attention to him and endeavoured to amuse him; but the more they surrounded him with care and assiduous precautions, the sadder and weaker the boy became. Often during his lesson hours, or when receiving the tenderest caresses, he would seem dreamy and absent; tears would fill his eyes, and when asked what he wanted, he would only smile to hide his tears.
The memory of his former life, of the early years of his childhood spent in the sweet freedom of the fields, in independent work and careless pleasure, now weighed upon the child's heart like a mountain of stone; the change in his existence, so violent and grievous, crushed this frail child as a plant which is roughly transplanted. At night, in his dreams, he saw again the hut, the happy mornings he spent turning his pottery, the walks on the river shore and in the woods, those bold excursions, those paths and avenues so constantly frequented in the vicinity and in other villages, in that small world where he felt strong, independent, active, and living his own life. At his father's house he was bound by ties sweet, it is true, but strict and tenacious; he had been, as it were, carried back to his infancy, surrounded by minute recommendations and useless cares. Fears and anxiety were entertained for him; he was not allowed to develop his powers or exercise his will.
Deprived as he was of Nature, of the open air and the sunshine to which he had been accustomed, he longed for all of these things as he longed for his old Iermola. He was doubtless comfortable with his father and mother, but he sighed for his old life, his sweet orphan life; and at last these longings and continual struggles affected him seriously, and he fell ill.
His parents, not understanding the child's real state of mind, irritated the wound, instead of healing it; attributing his sad, languid condition to the old man's influence, they endeavoured to keep him away from Radionek, thus making a great mistake and doing a great injustice. But the more they sought to detach the child from old Iermola, the more he clung to him with all the strength of his affection; indignation at the injustice which was done him, the ingratitude which was shown him, was added to his feelings of pity and affection, and oppressed his heart.