"In Procope's old hut. Oh, do not betray me! Be careful, my son; we shall see each other every evening." Radionek trembled and flushed with pleasure; but at that moment some one approached, a voice sounded in the garden. The old man disappeared; and Jules pretended to his parents that he had wandered there to look for birds' nests. They reproved him gently for having, by jumping, exposed himself to falling, and then took him back to the house, fearing for him the freshness of the evening air and the dew. No one, however, remarked the change which had come over the child; Radionek, extremely agitated, did not sleep the whole night.
The next day he would not play anywhere but in the walks of the garden. Iermola did not fail to come in the evening. They found a place where the hedge was not so thick, and they could talk more conveniently. But they could not talk long; and the old man went away discontented and troubled. His heart, full of a great joy, was having a struggle with his conscience; Radionek was begging and pleading with him to take him away with him, to fly with him far away from Malyczki, for the life he was leading had become insupportable to him. His parents' affection was becoming more and more weaned from him every day, and was bestowed instead upon his brother. He had ceased to be their pet, their darling; he was becoming almost a burden and a nuisance to them. They scolded him for his wild ways, his sadness, his weakness, and his ill health; they called him teasingly the peasant of the family.
He possessed everything, it is true, except sympathy, affection, and tenderness; but accustomed as he was to the deep love of his old father, it was this heart-penury which caused him so much suffering.
"But how can I take you away?" replied the old man. "They are your parents, after all; they will say I have stolen you away. You have been accustomed with them to have all sorts of dainties; how can I give them to you? Where shall we hide ourselves? They will follow us, and at last they will find us; then we shall both be more wretched than ever."
But the child had his answer for all these questions; and Iermola began to give way. His parents did not love him as his adoptive father had loved him; how could he live with them? He did not need dainties or choice and delicate food, for he would steal the servants' coarse, black bread, which reminded him of the simple meals of his early years; and several times he had been mocked at and punished because he preferred that coarse, common food. It would be easy to hide themselves, he added, by going far, far away into some unknown country. Who would recognize him if he wore the dress of a peasant,--a coarse drugget stable coat, for instance?
At the thought of this bold plan, this sudden deliverance, Iermola's soul was filled with hope and happiness; but he soon grew sad again as he thought of the impossibility of putting it into execution, and felt honest, conscientious scruples arise within him. Suppose he should happen to die on the way, to whose care should he leave the child? Was it wise or just to snatch him from his family and from a sure and peaceful future? The old man began to reproach himself for having come, for having disturbed poor Radionek; he thought of running away from the village, so as not to expose the child to further trial.
He meant to go away at once. He felt that Radionek exercised over him an influence more and more powerful; but that evening when they were talking together near the garden hedge, he must have betrayed himself entirely by some imprudent word or the trembling and tearful tone of his voice, for the boy took leave of him sadly and silently, and the old man did not suspect then that Radionek had taken a firm and definite resolve. The old vagabond had scarcely returned to his cabin when he began by the light of his pine torch to collect his clothes and bundle them into his sack. He was still occupied with this task when the door suddenly opened, and a young peasant of slight figure rushed into the room. The old man did not at first recognize him who had concealed himself under this humble garb; but his heart beat violently, and then he uttered a cry. It was Radionek, dressed in the clothes he had taken from one of the valets at the dwor. The poor old frightened father clasped his hands in terror and trembled all over as he saw his child.
"Do not be frightened, father, it is I; I have come back to you," cried Radionek, throwing himself on his neck. "Be quick, be quick! let us go before they find I have run away. Put some bread in your sack; we will plunge into the forest, and by to-morrow morning they will not be able to overtake us. Somewhere we will find a cottage, some kind people, a river shore, a bank of clay; and we will work and sing and turn pots once more, good father."
The old man's speech and breath failed him.
"Oh, my child, my child! what have you done?" he answered.