Iermola

by Józef Ignacy Kraszewski

This square bit of ground, surrounded by a paling of laths and situated close to the old house, was almost as large as an ordinary peasant's garden; besides this, there was, a few rods from the inn, about an acre of good land on which oaks and pines grew. There Iermola sowed some tobacco in the spots he thought most fertile; farther on he planted potatoes, cabbages at the end of his garden, beets, peas, and other vegetables in the rest of the enclosure. Sometimes his little crop turned out well, and then, besides getting from his garden all that he needed for his own subsistence, he sold enough to bring him the twenty florins necessary to pay his rent. At other times the vegetables were a failure; and the poor man was obliged to resort to other means of procuring the sum.

Under such circumstances, the woods and the river were a great resource for the peasants; and as the inhabitants of Popielnia were not forbidden access to them, they all found there some means of existence. So long as Iermola had lived alone, he had engaged in fishing; for this purpose he stretched nets and set weirs. In fishing at night with a lance he was at times not unsuccessful, and he sold the fruit of his labour at the neighbouring dwor or in the town. In addition to this, he gathered and dried mushrooms, which were a still more profitable commodity, as the price of them had for some time been going up. But after he had little Radionek almost constantly in his arms, these two employments became impossible. He could not leave the child alone, and spend the night fishing or pass the day in the woods.

And meantime the expenses increased; the small supply of money had been used at first to buy the goat and several trifles the baby was obliged to have. It was necessary for the poor man to do something new. Formerly he had worked gratis in the fields of his friends and the poor; now his time became dear and precious to him. He resolved to work for hire. Soon he might be seen, like those women who at times when work is pressing join the reapers in the fields, starting out every day with the goat, the baby, three stakes, a basket, and a tent. He put the baby in the basket between two furrows under the shade of the piece of coarse linen, stretched on top of the stakes; the old goat watched the little one, and he meantime cut down, gathered, and bound the wheat. In this way he earned his food and about twenty coppers a day in addition; for it is rare that a labourer is paid more than that in Polesia. He had to work three days, and work hard too, in order to earn two florins, which elsewhere is given for sixty sheaves. He had to cut sixty sheaves of thin, scattering wheat, and stoop over them, sweating and breathless, then carry them; and they make them heavy in Polesia, although in order to form them, one has to gather the straws one by one.

Often, returning to his deserted home from the distant harvest field, carrying the basket and the baby, the old man felt overcome with the weight of his years and the heat of the day, worn out and sleepy and almost sad; but one single glance at little Radionek, who was always smiling, sufficed to restore his strength, and the night's sleep refreshed him and prepared him for the next day's work. In fact, Iermola never had worked so hard or been so fatigued before; the villagers regarded with respect his perseverance, his earnestness, and his faithful devotion. Not daring to touch the gold found in the baby's clothes, because he considered it the orphan's property, he undertook to supply everything himself; and this became more and more difficult, for he scarcely had time to work his garden. He bravely devoted all his mornings and evenings to this work; the rest of the day he occupied himself in working in the fields.

But the heart can conceive and work out miracles as soon as it is warmed and animated by a ray of affection. It is a unique and sovereign talisman. Without it everything is full of thorns, everything is difficult; with it all obstacles melt away, and dangers disappear.

At the end of a few months of brave and constant effort, field labour began to be unsatisfactory to Iermola. The baby grew, and the earnings were very small; besides, the chorister had charged a rouble for his lessons, and God knows how much time the study-hours occupied each day. The poor man became at times very sad; then his one resource was to seek his old friend, the widow, to whose house he was in the habit of going for consolation and advice. He was always welcomed cordially and joyously there. The widow was perhaps a little sour and cross occasionally; but she was always really good and affectionate. When at his old friend's house, Iermola was never troublesome, never inconvenienced any one; on the contrary, he often made himself very useful,--for however weary or anxious he might be, if the widow asked him to her table, or even to warm himself by her fire, he felt obliged to cut up her wood, or go to the well for water, in fact, to take the place of old Chwedor, who usually took himself off to the inn for the evening, and could scarcely be moved from there, even if one drove him with a stick.

The widow had a great deal of trouble with the drunken Chwedor, but it was a difficult matter to find servants in the village who were willing to live on a farm, the strong, hearty men greatly preferring to take their axes and go to work in the woods; she was compelled, therefore, to put up with this good-for-nothing creature, who, if he had not had the assistance of the young orphan servant, would scarcely have accomplished the feeding and caring for the cows. Chwedor was truly a singular being; he seemed to be two men in one. In the morning, before he had taken anything to drink, he was industrious, obedient, diligent, and silent,--he even sometimes did things of his own accord which his mistress had not commanded; but when he returned from the fields, although he had solemnly sworn never to drink again, he would scarcely have driven the cattle into the courtyard before he would suddenly disappear, and installing himself at the big table in the hall of the inn, would drink, swear, scream, and give himself up to the most noisy and ridiculous behaviour. With his cap pulled down over his ears, and his hands on his hips, he would grow excited, scream, swear, abuse the innkeeper, sing, dance, stick up his mustache, and strut about as though he were neither more nor less than a waiwode.

On his return to the cottage he went regularly to bid his mistress good-night, and after that went to bed, still singing and swearing, then fell asleep and snored; and when he awoke in the morning, he was as pleasant and obedient as the previous evening he had been brutal and blustering. After having shirked the widow's service, using most abusive language to her, the evening before, he would be eager next morning to reinstate himself in her good graces by all sorts of kind attentions and ingenious devices. She herself had several times discharged him; but as it was almost impossible to procure another servant, and as Chwedor was thoroughly well acquainted with the duties of a farm, the noises and rows of the evening were invariably followed by reconciliation and peace in the morning.

But in consequence of Chwedor, Iermola was particularly welcome at the widow's cottage whenever he came in the evening, first, because he helped a little, and then because she found in him a willing listener to whom she could relate all her gossip and make all her complaints. Horpyna also loved the old serving-man, especially for the sake of the baby, who always smiled for her so sweetly.

One day as Iermola was returning late from the fields, having spent the whole day without being able to gather his task of sheaves from the scattering and ill-grown barley, his heart sad and anxious, and very weary from stooping so long, he turned in the direction of the widow's cottage. As soon as Horpyna saw him, she took the little boy in her arms and began to jump about the room with him; and the old man sat down by the fire and gazed at the flames dreamily. The sun had given him the headache; fatigue had stiffened and bent his back; the weight of the reaping-hook had bruised his wrinkled hands, although he had carefully wrapped the handle with a piece of coarse cloth.