"I will not only look after it, I will take care of it myself; you will see, I will put a beautiful, strong enclosure round it, provided I can find enough small boughs near by."
"That will be nice, very nice," said Nascia, with a joyous smile; "now come, take supper with us. You can have a talk with my husband and bring back the window, and as I will give you a little dry wood to light a fire in the old fireplace and drive away the dampness, you can sleep to-night in your cabin."
As she spoke, Nascia began to gather up her bundles of hemp, then called a servant, and singing a village song in a loud clear voice, she walked slowly along toward her cabin, not taking the narrow path over the foot-bridge which led from one garden to the other, but the public road, because she was so loaded down with her hemp. Sydor Kolenick's cabin was situated just on the edge of the public road, at the entrance of the second lane, so that the farther ends of the two gardens touched; it was spacious, solid, and quite new.
At a glance one could see that the household was comfortable and flourishing. The principal room was large and handsome; great gilded images were hung in one corner; the table, large and clean, was covered with a perfectly white cloth, and there was on it a large golden loaf, well baked, and covered with a fine napkin. The pewter and earthen pitchers, pails, and tubs were whole, shining, and new as if they had just come from the market; everything, indeed, was clean, dainty, substantial, cheerful, and comfortable.
The master of the house alone was unlike his wife and his surroundings; small, thin, withered, stunted, wretched-looking, with a red eye, a cloth tied round his jaws, and a beard unshaven for three weeks, he looked forty years old, though he had not yet reached thirty.
"Here is old Iermola from Popielnia," said Nascia to her husband, who, seated near the fire, was smoking his pipe to cure his toothache; "he offers to rent Procope's hut, and in addition to work the garden, if you will kindly agree to take him as a tenant."
"Iermola, ah, yes! I remember him. How do you do, old father, and what are you doing here?" said Sydor, his mouth full of saliva and speaking with difficulty.
Nascia did not allow the old man time to reply, for to all her other good qualities she added the gift of extraordinarily earnest and fluent eloquence. She began at once to relate Iermola's history; and as Sydor had a compassionate heart and was easily influenced by his wife's impressions, he was immediately filled with pity for the old man's forlorn situation, and sitting down beside him on the bench, began to chat with him.
"And what ails you?" said Iermola, suddenly, remembering that he had formerly dispensed remedies in the village. "Perhaps I could cure you."
"I do not know whether it is my teeth or my jawbone which gives me so much pain. At first one of my decayed teeth began to hurt me; and now my whole head and face burns and seems ready to burst, I suffer so."