"Is it true that thy mother is a witch?" asked Oxana laughing; and the blacksmith felt as if everything within him laughed too, as if that laugh had found an echo in his heart and in all his veins; and at the same time he felt provoked at having no right to cover with kisses that pretty laughing face.
"What do I care about my mother! Thou art my mother, my father—all that I hold precious in the world! Should the Czar send for me to his presence and say to me, 'Blacksmith Vakoola,' ask of me whatever I have best in my realm—I'll give it all to thee; I'll order to have made for thee a golden smithy, where thou shalt forge with silver hammers.' 'I'll none of it,' would I answer the Czar. 'I'll have no precious stones, no golden smithy, no, not even the whole of thy realm—give me only my Oxana!'"
"Now, only see what a man thou art! But my father has got another idea in his head; thou'lt see if he does not marry thy mother!"[17] said Oxana with an arch smile. "But what can it mean? the maidens are not yet come—it is high time for carolling. I am getting dull."
"Never mind about them, my beauty!"
"But, of course, I do mind; they will doubtless bring some lads with them, and then, how merry we shall be! I fancy all the droll stories that will be told!"
"So thou feelest merry with them?"
"Of course merrier than with thee. Ah! there is somebody knocking at the door; it must be the maidens and the lads!"
"Why need I stay any longer?" thought the blacksmith. "She laughs at me; she cares no more about me than about a rust-eaten horseshoe. But, be it so. I will at least give no one an opportunity to laugh at me. Let me only mark who it is she prefers to me. I'll teach him how to"—
His meditation was cut short by a loud knocking at the door, and a harsh "Open the door," rendered still harsher by the frost.
"Be quiet, I'll go and open it myself," said the blacksmith, stepping into the passage with the firm intention of giving vent to his wrath by breaking the bones of the first man who should come in his way.