"Perhaps it is time for us to go," advised Petrik. Ondrejko looked at Palko to see what he would say. He had succeeded in attracting the beautiful cat to him. She sat beside him on the bench, and with her front paws, like a squirrel, took the dipped bun from him. Now she was even sitting on his knees and was purring.
"We cannot leave these dishes thus, when they were dirtied by us. She has no help here," said Palko.
So he ran with a tin bucket for water, and Petrik ran to bring wood. In the meantime Ondrejko remained alone in the kitchen, when the doors of the bedroom opened. At first he heard the voice of Aunty—and then another. The blood rushed to his head, the voice was so clear and so beautiful. Oh, such mysterious recollections, as from times so distant, very distant, as if from the secrets of long past remembrances! What they said he did not understand. The cat wriggled out of his hands, lifted its long tail and jumped to the door. The door was not fully closed and she opened it with one paw and disappeared before the eyes of the surprised boy. He was not even aware of it. He was so fully taken up with the voice that he did not hear any more. The boys' coming disturbed and awakened him.
Palko washed the dishes, Petrik dried them; they put everything away, and disappeared as quietly as they could.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Seven days passed. How short! but sometimes how long seven days may be! How much one can live through, experience, and suffer! Time passes; you awaken, wipe your eyes, and wonder if it is true that it has passed already.
Even thus Ondrejko de Gemer, wandering through the woods, wondered if all was true that had passed in the last seven days, or if it was merely a dream. Oh, it was no dream, really. She came, the sick lady. Truly, she lived in Palko's cottage and though Ondrejko had carried the whey there already three times he had not seen her. Aunty always said that she was asleep, and must sleep very much. Ah, why did she always sleep just when he came? She had spoken already to Petrik, and gave him a box full of candy. Palko had already read to her from his Book, and had told her that she was almost as beautiful as his mother at home; Ondrejko, alone, had not seen her yet.
How much he had prayed already, especially that morning, that she might not be asleep again when he went there, that he also might welcome her to those woods and mountains. Formerly Ondrejko didn't think of it, but he did now, when the herdsmen, especially Stephen, again and again reminded him that these sheepfolds were his father's, and therefore his also, and that he had a rightful claim to everything. When they gave him cheese and butter for the lady, they gave him plenty, saying, "Just take it; it is yours." This thought seemed to appeal to him—all is ours. If Palko could say "our cottage," why could not Ondrejko say, "our sheepfolds, our land, and our woods? Oh, then she came to us though she lived in the cottage of Palko. When she gets stronger she will come to us to drink whey from our sheep."
Lost in his meditation, the boy did not realize that he had come to the parting of the paths, one of which turned above to the "Old Hag's Rock," and the other, below to the cottage in the valley. The weather was again so clear that from the green clearings in the woods you could hear the great bells of the rams and the little ones of the sheep.
"There is the ringing of the bells of our sheep," smiled the happy Ondrejko. He ran quickly to the bench, intending to sit upon it and rest, but he did not do so for it was occupied by someone like one of the fairies from the woods of which Stephen often told him, that on St. John's Night came out of the "Old Hag's Rock" and danced on the meadows. None of them could be more beautiful than the lady sitting on the bench, with its firm back covered with a flowery blanket; a similar cushion lay on the arm-rest, and on the cushion rested a white arm. On the small narrow palm a forehead was resting, and beautiful dark-gray eyes looked far away above the mountains.