The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

At that moment she forgot that it was almost dusk, that the days were still short, that the light was vanishing fast. She forgot that it would be very disagreeable meeting Vranic – always lurking thereabout – that her husband would soon be coming home. In fact, forgetting everything and everybody, she began running after the cat, which scampered off the moment it saw her. Still, the quicker the cat ran, the quicker Milena went after it.

Of course, she knew quite well, as you and I would have known, that the cat was no cat at all, for real pussies are quiet, home-loving pets, taking, at most, a stroll on the pantiles, but never go roaming about the fields as dogs are sometimes apt to do.

That cat, of course, was a witch – not a simple baornitza, but a real sorceress, able to do whatever she chose to put her hand to.

The nimble cat ran with the speed of a stone hurled from a sling, and Milena, panting, breathless, stumbling every now and then, ran after it with all her might. Several times the fleet-footed animal disappeared; still, she was not disheartened, but ran on and came in sight of it after some time. At last, she saw the cat run straight towards a distant cottage. Milena slackened her speed, then she stopped to look round.

The cottage was built on a low muddy beach. She remembered having been in that lonely spot once before with Uros; she had seen the strand all covered with bloated bluish medusas, melting away in the sun.

With a beating heart and quivering limbs Milena stopped on the threshold of the hut, and looked about her for the cat. The door was ajar; perhaps it had gone in. For a moment she hesitated whether she should turn on her heels and run off or enter.

A powerful witch like that could, all at once, assume the most horrible shape, and frighten her out of her wits!

As she stood there, undecided as to what she was to do, the door opened, as if by a sudden blast of wind, and there was no time to retreat. Milena then, to her surprise, saw an old woman standing in the middle of the hut. She was quietly breaking sticks and putting them on a smouldering fire. As for the cat, it was, of course, nowhere to be seen.

The old woman, almost bent double by age, turned, and seeing Milena, smiled. Her face did not express the slightest fear or ill-humour, nay, she seemed as if she had been expecting her.

"Good evening, domlada," said the old woman, with a most winning voice, "have you lost your way, or is there anything you want of me?"

Milena hesitated; had she been spoken to in a rough, disagreeable manner, she would, doubtless, have been daunted by the thought that she was putting her soul in jeopardy by having recourse to the witch; but the woman's voice was so soft and soothing, her words so encouraging, her ways so motherly, that, getting over her nervousness, she went in at once, and, almost without knowing it, she found herself induced to relate all her troubles to this utter stranger.

"First, if you want me to help you," said the old woman, "you must try and help yourself."

"And how so?"

"By thinking as little as possible of a handsome youth who is now at sea."

Milena blushed.

"Then you must bear your husband's ill-humour, even his blows, patiently, and, little by little, get him to understand what kind of a man Vranic is. Radonic is in love with you; therefore, 'the sack cannot remain without the twine.' You must not fear Vranic; 'the place of the uninvited guest is, you know, behind the door.' Moreover, to protect you against him, I'll give you a most powerful charm."

Saying this, she went to a large wooden chest and got out of it a little bag, which she handed to Milena.

"In it," whispered the old woman, mysteriously, "there is some hair of a wolf that has tasted human flesh, the claw of a rabid old cat, a tiny bit of a murdered man's skull, a few leaflets of rue gathered on St. John's Night under a gibbet, and some other things. It is a potent spell; still, efficient as it is, you must help it in its work."

Milena promised the old woman to be guided entirely by her advice.

"Remember never to give way to Vranic in the least, for, even with my charm, if you listen to him you might become his prey. You must not do like the dove did."

"And what did the dove do?"

"What! don't you know? Well, sit down there, and I'll tell you."

"But I'm afraid I'll be troubling you."

"Not at all; besides, I'll prepare my soup while I chat."

"Still, I'm afraid my husband might get home and not find me; then – "

"Then you'll keep him a little longer at the inn."

Saying these words, the witch threw some vegetables in the pot simmering on the hob, and on the fire something like a pinch of salt, for at once the wood began to splutter and crackle; after that, she went to the door and looked out.

"See how it pours!" said she. "Radonic will have to wait till the rain is over."

Milena shuddered and crossed herself; she was more than ever convinced that the old woman was a mighty sorceress who had command over the wind and the rain.

"Well," began the stari-mati, "once a beautiful white dove had built her nest in a large tree; she laid several eggs, hatched them, and had as many lovely dovelets. One day, a sly old fox, passing underneath, began leering at the dove from the corner of his eye, as old men ogle pretty girls at windows. The dove got uneasy. Thereupon, the fox ordered the bird to throw down one of her young ones. 'If you don't, I swear by my whiskers to climb up the tree and gobble you down, you – , and all your young ones.'

"The poor dove was in sore trouble, and, quaking with fear, seeing the fox lay its front paws on the trunk of the tree, she, flurried as she was, caught one of her little ones by its neck and threw it down. The fox made but a mouthful of it, grumbling withal that it was such a meagre morsel.

"'Mind and fatten those that are left, for I'll call again to-morrow, and if the others are only skin and bones, as the little scarecrow you've thrown me down is, you'll have, at least, to give me two.'

"The fox went off. The poor dove remained in her nest, mourning over her lost little one, and shuddering as she thought of the morrow. Just then another bird happened to perch above the branch where the dove had her nest.

"'I say, dove,' said the other bird, 'what's up, that you are cooing in such a dreary, disconsolate way?'

"The dove thereupon related all that had happened.

"'Oh, you simpleton! oh, you fool!' quoth the other bird, 'how could you have been so silly as to believe the sly old fox? You ought to have known that foxes cannot climb trees; therefore, when he comes to-morrow, ordering you to throw him down a couple of your little ones, just you tell him to come up himself and get them.'

"The day after, when the fox came for his meal, the dove simply answered:

"'Don't you wish you may get it!'

"And the dove laughed in her sleeve to see the fox look so sheepish.

"'Who told you that?' said Reynard; 'you never thought of it yourself, you are too stupid.'

"'No,' quoth the dove, 'I did not. The bird that has built her nest by the sedges near the river told it me.'

"'So,' said the fox; and he turned round and went off to the bird that had built her nest by the river sedges, without even saying ta-ta to the dove. He soon found her out.

"'I say, bird, what made you build your nest in such a breezy spot?' said the fox, with a twinkling eye.

"'Oh! I don't mind the wind,' said the bird. 'For instance, when it blows from the north-east, I put my head under my left wing, like this."

"Thereupon, the bird put its head under its left wing, and peeped at the fox with its right eye.

"'And when it blows from the south-west?' asked the fox.

"'Then I do the contrary.'

"And the bird put its head under its right wing, and peeped at the fox with its left eye.

"'And when it blows from every side of the compass at once?'

"'It never does,' said the bird, laughing.

"'Yes it does; in a hurricane.'

"'Then I cover my head with both my wings, like this.'

"No sooner had the poor bird buried her head under both her wings, than the sly old fox jumped at her, and ate her up.

"But," said the witch, finishing her story, "if you are like the dove, I'm not like the bird of the sedges; and Vranic would find me rather tough to eat me up. And now, hurry home, my dear; if ever you want me again, you know where to find me."

The rain had ceased, and Milena, thanking the old woman for her kindness, went off. She had been back but a few minutes when Radonic returned home, ever so much the worse for drink. Not finding any supper ready, he at first began to grumble; then, little by little, thinking himself very ill-used, he got into a tremendous rage. Having reached this paroxysm of wrath, he set to smash all the crockery that he could lay his hands on, whilst Milena, terrified, went and shut herself up in the next room, and peeped at him through the keyhole.

When he had broken a sufficient number of plates and dishes, he felt vexed at having vented his rage in such a foolish way, then to pity himself at having such a worthless wife, who left him without supper, and growing sentimental, he began to groan and hiccough and curse, till he at last rolled off the stool on which he had been rocking himself, and went to sleep on the floor.

On the morrow the husband was moody, the wife sad; neither of them spoke or looked at the other. The whole of that day, Milena – in her loneliness – revolved within her mind what she would do to get rid of Vranic's importunities, and, above all, how she could prevent him from harming Uros, as he had threatened to do.

The day passed away slowly; in the evening Radonic came home more drunk than he had ever been, therefore maliciously angry and spiteful.

The front room of the house, like that of almost all other cottages, was a large but dark and dismal-looking chamber, pierced with several small windows, all thickly grated; the ceiling was raftered, and pieces of smoked mutton, wreaths of onions, bundles of herbs, and other provisions dangled down from hooks, or nails, driven in nearly every beam. As in all country-houses, the hearth was built in the very midst of this room, and the smoke, curling upwards, found an outlet from a hole in the roof. That evening, as it was pouring and blowing, the gusts of wind and rain prevented the smoke from finding its way out.

Milena was seated on a three-legged stool at a corner of the hearth, by a quaint, somewhat prehistoric, kind of earthenware one-wick oil-lamp, which gave rather less light than our night-lamps usually do, though it flickered and sputtered and smoked far more. She was sewing a very tiny bit of a rag, but she took much pride in it, for every now and then she looked at it with the fond eyes of a girl sewing her doll's first bodice. Hearing her husband's step on the shingle just outside, she started to her feet, thrust the rag away, looking as if she had almost been caught doing something very guilty. After that she began mixing the soup boiling in the pot with great alacrity.

Radonic was not a handsome man at the best of times, but now, besotted by drink, shuffling and reeling, he was positively loathsome. He stopped for a moment on the sill to look at his wife, grinning at her in a half-savage, half-idiotic way.

Milena shuddered when she saw him, and turned her eyes away. He evidently noticed the look of horror she cast on him, for holding himself to the door-post with one hand, he shook the other at her, in his increasing anger.

"What have you been doing all the day? – gadding about, or sitting on the door-step to beckon to the youths who pass by?" he said, in a thick, throaty voice, interrupted every now and then with a drunken hiccough. Then he let go the door-post and shuffled in.

"A fine creature, a very fine creature, a slut, a good-for-nothing slut, not worth the salt she eats! You hear, madam? you hear, darling? it's to you I'm speaking."

Milena stood pale, awe-stricken, twisting the fringe of her apron round her fingers, looking at him with amazement. It was certainly not the first time in her life that she had seen a drunken man; still, she had never known anyone so fiendish when tipsy.

"A nice kind of woman for a fellow to marry," he went on, "a thing that stands twisting her fingers from morning to night, but who cannot find time to prepare a little supper for a hungry man, in the evening." Then, with a grunt: "What have you been doing the whole of the live-long day?"

Milena did not answer.

"I say, will you speak? by the Virgin, will you speak? or I'll slap that stupid sallow face of yours till I make it red with your blood."

Milena did try to answer, but the words stuck in her throat and would not come out. Radonic thought she was defying him.

"Ah, you'll not answer! You were fooling about the town, or sitting at the window eating pumpkin seeds, waiting for the dogs that pass to admire those meaningless eyes of yours. They are dark, it's true, but I'll make them ten times darker."

Thereupon he made a rush at her, but, swift-footed as she was, she ran on the opposite side of the room. She glanced at the door, but he had shut and bolted it, therefore – being afraid that he might be upon her before she managed to open it – she only kept running round the hearth, waiting till chance afforded her some better way of escape.

He ran after her for some time, but, drunk and asthmatic as he was, he stopped at last, irritated by his non-success. Vexed at seeing a faint smile on her lips, he took up a plate, that had been spared from the day before, and shied it at her. She was too quick for him, for she deftly moved aside, and the plate was smashed against an oaken press.

He gnashed his teeth with rage and showed her his fists; then he bent down, picked up a log, and flourished it wildly about. She at once made for the door. He flung the piece of wood at her with all his might. She once more stooped to avoid it, but, in her eagerness to get out, she was this time rather flurried; moreover, the missile hurled at her was, this time, much bigger than the former one, so that the log just caught her at the back of her head. She uttered a shrill cry, and fell on the ground in a death-like swoon.

Radonic, seeing Milena fall, thought he had killed her. He felt at that moment such a terrible fright that it seemed to him as if a thunderbolt had come down upon him.

He grew deathly pale, his jaw fell, he began to tremble from head to foot, just as when he had a fit of the ague. His teeth chattered, his knees were broken, his joints relaxed. He had never in his whole life felt such a fright. In a moment his drunkenness seemed to vanish, and he was again in his senses.

"Milena," said he, in a faint, quivering, moaning tone. "Milena, my love!"

She did not answer, she did not move; to all appearance she was dead.

The muscles of his throat were twitching in such a way that he almost fancied someone had stabbed him through the neck.

Was she now worth her salt to him? he asked himself bitterly; aye, he would give all his money to bring her back to life if he only could.

He wanted to go up to her, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot where he stood; with widely opened eyes he stared at the figure lying motionless on the floor. Was the blood trickling from her head? A moment afterwards he was kneeling down by her side, lifting her up tenderly; for, brute as he was, he loved her.

She was not dead, for her heart was beating still. Her head was bleeding; but the cut was very slight, hardly skin deep. He began to bathe her face with water, and tried to recall her to her senses. Still her fainting-fit, owing, perhaps, to the state of her health, lasted for some time; and those moments of torture seemed for him everlasting.

At last Milena opened her eyes; and seeing her husband's face bent close upon hers, she shuddered, and tried to free herself from his arms.

"Ljuba," said Radonic, "forgive me. I was a brute; but I didn't mean to harm you."

"It's a pity you didn't kill me; then there would have been an end to this wretched life of mine."

"Do you hate me so very much?"

"Have I any reason to love you?"

"Forgive me, my love. I've been drinking to-night; and when the wine gets to my head, then I know I'm nasty."

"No, you hate me, and I know why."

"Why?"

"Vranic sets you against me; and when your anger is roused, and your brain muddled, you come and want to kill me."

Radonic did not reply.

"But rather than torture me as you do, kill me at once, to please your friend."

Milena stopped for an instant; then she began again, in a lower tone:

"And that man is doubtless there, behind that door, listening to all that has happened."

Radonic ground his teeth, clenched his fists, snorted like a high-mettled horse, started up, and would have rushed to the door had Milena not prevented him.

"No," said she, "do not be so rash. Abide your time; catch him on the hip."

"Why does he hate you?"

"Can't you guess? Did he not want to marry me?"

Radonic groaned.

"Oh! it would not be a difficult matter to turn Vranic into a friend; but I prefer being beaten by you than touched by that fiend."

Radonic started like a mad bull; and, not knowing what to do, he gave the table such a mighty thump that he nearly shivered it.

"Listen! Yesterday, when you had rolled on the floor, and were sleeping away your drunken rage – "

"Then?"

"I went to sit on the doorstep – "

"Well, go on."

"A moment afterwards Vranic was standing in front of me."

The husband's eyes flashed with rage.

"Knowing that you would not wake, he begged me to let him come in. He saw me wretched and forlorn; he would comfort me."

"You lie!" He hissed these words out through his set teeth, and caught hold of her neck to throttle her. Then, all at once, he turned his mad rage against himself, and thumped his head with all his strength, exclaiming:

"Fool, fool, fool that I am!" Then, after a short silence, and with a sullen look: "And you, what did you do?"

"I got up, came in, and slammed the door in his face."

Radonic caught his wife in his arms, and kissed her.

"Tell me one thing more. Where were you yesterday evening?"

She smiled.

"Where do you think I was? Well, I'll tell you, because you'll never guess. I was at the witch's, who lives down there by the sea shore."

"What for?"

"Because I'm tired of this life. I went to ask her for a charm against your bosom friend."

"And what can a foolish old woman do for you?" said the husband, trying to put on a sceptical look.

"I have not been all over the world as you have; still, I know that our blood also is red."

"And what did the baornitza tell you?"

"That a flowing beard is but a vain ornament when the head is light."

Radonic shrugged his shoulders and tried not to wince.

"Besides, she gave me this charm;" and showing him her amulet, she begged him to wear it for a few days. "It will not do you any harm; wear it for my sake, even if you don't believe in it," she pleaded softly.

Radonic yielded, and allowed Milena to fasten the little bag round his neck, looking deep into her beautiful eyes uplifted towards his. She blushed, feeling the fire of his glances.

"And now," added she, with a sigh of relief, "he'll break his viper's fangs against that bone, if our proverbs are true."

Radonic tried to keep up his character of an esprit-fort, and said:

"Humbug!" but there was a catch in his voice as he uttered this word.

"Now, I feel sure that as long as you have this talisman you'll not open your mouth or reveal a single word of what I've told you."

"Whom do you take me for?"

"Yes, but at times our very eyes deceive us; moreover, Vranic is a man to whom everybody is like glass. He reads your innermost thoughts."

"He is sharp; nothing more, I tell you."

"Anyhow, that is a powerful charm, and if you'll only dissimulate – "

"Oh! I can be a match for him if I like."

"You must promise me one thing more."

"What is it?"

"No knives; no bloodshed."

Radonic did not answer for a moment, but cast on Milena an angry look, his hand seeking the handle of his knife.

"Will you promise?"

"Are you so fond of him that you are frightened I'll kill him?"

"I hate him."

"Then – "

"Still, it is no reason to murder him."

Radonic seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"Moreover, he is weak and puny, whilst you are made of iron." She laid her hand on his shoulder. "No knives, then; it's understood?"

"I promise to use no knife."

The morrow was a beautiful day; winter seemed already to be waking from its short sleep. The sun was shining brightly, and as the breeze was fresh and bracing, his cheerful warmth was pleasant, especially for people who have to depend upon his rays for their only heat. Spring seemed already to be at hand, and, in fact, the first violets and primroses might have been seen glinting in sunny spots.

Milena was returning from market, and her eyes were wandering far on the wide expanse of glittering blue waters, but her thoughts, like fleet halcyons, dived far away into the hazy distance, unfathomable to the sight itself, and she hummed to herself the following song:

"A crystal rill I fain would be,    And down the deep dell then I'd go;    Close to his cottage I would flow.  Thus every morn my love I'd see,  Oft to his lips I might be pressed,  And nestle close unto his breast."

Then she sighed and tried not to think, for hers, indeed, was forlorn hope.

All at once she heard someone walking behind her, coming nearer and nearer. She hastened her steps; still, the person who followed her walked on quicker.

"What a hurry you are in, Milena," said Vranic, coming up to her.

"Oh! is it you?" she replied, with feigned surprise; then she shuddered, thinking that she had not her amulet, and was at the mercy of this artful man. "You frightened me."

"Dear me, I'm afraid I'm always frightening you! Still, believe me, I'd give my soul to the devil for one of your smiles, for a good word from you, Milena."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Children are deceived with cakes, women with sweet words, they say."

He cast a sidelong glance at her.

"You don't look well, to-day; you are pale."

"Am I?"

"Yes; what's the matter?"

"How can I look well, with that brute of a husband of mine?"

"Ah, yes! he got home rather the worse for drink yesterday evening, didn't he?"

"You ought to know; you were with him."

"Well, yes, I was; at least, part of the evening."

"And when he was as mad as a wild bull, you sent him home to me, didn't you?"

"I?"

"Vranic, when will you finish persecuting me? What have I done to you?"

"Milena, it is true I am bad; but is it my fault? has not the world made me what I am? Why have I not a right to my share of happiness as other men?"

"I am sorry for you, Vranic, but what can I do for you?"

"You can do whatever you like with me, make me as good as a lamb."

"How?"

"Have pity on me; I love you!"

"How can you say you love me, when you have tried to harm me in every possible way?"

"I was jealous; besides, I saw that you hated me, therefore you know it was my only chance of success. In love and in war all means are good."

She shuddered; still, she managed to master herself and hide the loathing she felt for him.

"So you thought that, after having driven me to distraction – "

"I should be your friend in need."

"Fine friend." Then after a pause: "Anyhow, my present life is such that, rather than bear it any longer, I'll go and drown myself some day or other."

"You'd never do that, Milena."

"Why not? Therefore, if you care for me ever so little, use your influence over Radonic, undo your work, get him to be a little less of a brute than he has been of late."

"And then you'll laugh at me?"

"Who does good can expect better," and she tried to look at him less harshly than she was wont to do, and did not turn her eyes away from him.

"No, Milena, first – "

"What! first the pay, then the work? It would be against the proverb."

"Then promise me at least that you will try to love me a little?"