[WHEN ONE LOVES]
In the life of a good and loving man,--one who, like Iermola, had led an isolated existence and had preserved in full force all the strength of his affections,--an event such as that which had just happened produces a sudden and entire change. The old man became young again. He felt the ties which bound him to the world renewed and strengthened; he had henceforth an aim in life, a hope, a bond, an affection, a new desire for work, the delights and anticipations of an unknown feeling. The poor orphan, cast off by his parents, became the crowning treasure of his old age.
A sort of excitement, such as he had not felt for years, took hold of his entire being, and made him at once stronger and more tender. He was disturbed; he wondered; he feared; he hoped; and he was anxious concerning the morrow. Tears sprang to his eyes. He felt that he had changed; he had become another man. He had forgotten the past, and he was dreaming of the future. He felt himself blest, very happy, never suspecting the weary moments, the cares and toil he was preparing for the remainder of his existence. Like the bird in whose nest the cuckoo lays her eggs, he was astonished, frightened, content. For the first time he found, to his surprise, that he dreaded death; that he felt the need and the desire to live. Chwedko no longer recognized him, he was so utterly changed; the old man, usually so silent and indifferent, now spoke with warmth and vivacity, so entirely did he resume the attraction, the gestures, and thoughts of a young man.
He found it impossible to remain patiently any longer beside Chwedko, for their stubborn companion never ceased for a moment to make every effort in its power to get away from them and return to the alehouse. He therefore confided the goat to the care of Chwedko, and hastened on in advance.
He rushed into his old friend's hut and ran at once to the wooden bench where the new-born baby was lying asleep, quieted and satisfied by the good milk it had drunk. Beside it stood Horpyna, the little shepherd, and the servant, who were watching in silence this unexpected guest. Iermola made his way through the little group, and seated himself on the floor so as to see the baby better.
"I think he is asleep," he whispered in the old widow's ear.
"Ah! to be sure, the poor innocent one," replied the old woman, nodding her head.
"And did he drink the milk?"
"Oh, certainly he did, and stopped crying immediately. But about the goat?"
"We have bought it; Chwedko is leading it hither."