The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

"No," said she, with a toss of her pretty head, and a smile in her mischievous, sparkling eyes; "I promise nothing."

He thereupon took her hand and kissed it, saying:

"I am making a poor bargain, for I am sure that your heart is empty."

"If you cannot manage to awaken love in an empty heart, it will be your fault; besides, you can always be in time to undo your work."

"How so?"

"You have me in your power, for Radonic, in your hands, is as pliable as putty, is he not?"

"Perhaps!" and the wrinkles of his cheeks deepened into a grim smile.

"Then let my husband come home a little less cross than he has been of late, will you?" she said, in a coaxing tone, and her voice had for him all the sweetness of the nightingale's trill.

"I'll try," and his blinking, grey-green eyes gloated upon her, whilst that horrible cast in them made her shiver and feel sick; but then she thought of Uros, and the idea that his life might be in danger by the power this man wielded over her husband made her conceal her real state of feelings and smile upon him pleasantly.

He put his arm round her waist, and whispered words of love into her ear, words that seemed to sink deep into her flesh and blister her; and she felt like a bird, covered over with slime by a snake, before being swallowed up.

He, at that moment – withal he was a seer – fancied Milena falling in his arms; his persevering love had conquered at last. Radonic would now be sent away to sea again, perhaps never to come back, and he would remain the undisputed master of Milena's heart.

"Well, love me a little and I'll change your life from a hell into a heaven. I'll read your slightest wish in your eyes to satisfy it."

"Thank you," she said, shuddering, disengaging herself from his grasp, but feeling herself growing pale.

"What is the matter, my love?" he asked.

"Nothing, only I told you I was not feeling well; my husband almost killed me yesterday."

"Well, I promise that it'll be the last time he touches you."

They had now reached the door of her house, and Vranic, after having renewed his protestations, went off, whilst Milena entered the house and locked herself in.

That evening Radonic came home rather earlier than usual. He was sober, but in a sullen mood, and looked at Milena sheepishly. She set the supper on the table and waited upon him; when he had finished, she took the dish and sat down on the hearth to have her meal.

"Well," quoth Radonic, puffing at his pipe, "have you seen Vranic to-day?"

"Yes, I met him when I was coming home from market."

"Henceforth," said he, "I forbid you going to market again."

"Very well," said she, meekly.

"And?"

"He accompanied me home."

"And what did he say?"

"That you were pulpy, therefore he could do with you whatever he liked."

"Ah! he said that, did he?" and in his rage Radonic broke his pipe.

"Then?"

"He would first undo his work, make you as gentle as a lamb, then he would send you off to sea, and – "Radonic muttered a fearful oath between his teeth.

"Can't you understand? Has he not spoken well of me?"

"He has, the villain, and it wanted all my patience not to clutch him by the neck and pluck his vile tongue out of his mouth – but I'll bide my time."

CHAPTER VIII

MURDER

A few days afterwards Milena heard a low whistle outside, just as if someone were calling her; the whistling was repeated again and again. She went to the open door, and she saw Vranic at a distance, apparently on the watch for her. As soon as he saw her, he beckoned to her to come out. She stepped on the threshold, and he came up to her.

"Good news, eh?" said he.

"What news?"

"Has Radonic not opened his mouth to you?"

"He has hardly said a single word all these days."

"Impossible!"

"May I be struck blind if he has!"

"Strange."

"Well, but what is it all about?"

"He told me it was a great secret; still, I did not believe him."

"But what is this great secret?"

"He is going off to Montenegro for a day or two, as he has to buy a cargo of castradina. Of course, he'll stay a week; and as soon as he comes back, he'll start at once on a long voyage."

"I don't believe it!"

"Yes, he is; and it's all my own doing. Now you can't say that I don't love you, Milena, can you?"

She did not give him any answer.

"You don't seem glad. Once you'd have been delighted to have a reprieve from his ill-treatment."

"Yes, but now he's only moody. He hasn't beaten me for some days."

"I told you he was as manageable as putty. Like all bullies, you can shave him without a razor, if you only know how to go about it."

"Yes; only beware. Such men never keep shape – at least, not for any length of time."

"He'll keep shape till he goes, for that's to-morrow; then – " and he winked at her as he said this.

"Come, Vranic, be kind for once in your life."

"Has anybody ever been kind to me?"

"'Do good, and don't repent having done it; do evil, and expect evil,' says the proverb."

"I never do anything for nothing; so to-morrow night I'll come for my reward."

"Leave me alone, Vranic; if not for my sake, do it for your own good. Fancy, if Radonic were to return. Surely you wouldn't shave him quite as easily as you think."

"I'll take the risk upon myself. I have lulled all his suspicions, so that he has now implicit trust in you. Besides, I'll first see him well out of the town with my own eyes; Vranic is not a seer for nothing," and he winked knowingly with his blinking eyes.

"You don't know Radonic: if you are a fox, he is no goose. He is capable of coming back just to see what I am doing."

"I think I know him a little better than you do, and a longer time.

We have been friends from childhood; in fact, all but pobratim."

"That's the reason why you are ready to deceive him, then?"

"What business had he to marry you? What would I not do for your love, Milena? Why, I'd give my soul to Satan, if he wanted it."

"I'm afraid it's no longer yours to give away. But come, Vranic, if you really are as fond of me as you pretend to be, have some pity on me, be kind; think how wretched my whole life has hitherto been, leave me alone, forget me."

"Ask me anything else but that. How can I forget you? How can I cease loving you, when I live only for you? I only see through your eyes."

"Then I'll ask Radonic to take me to Montenegro with him, and I'll remain with my family."

"And I'll follow you there. You don't understand all the strength of my love for you."

Thereupon, forgetting his usual prudence, he stepped up to her, and passing his arm round her waist, he strained her to his breast, and wanted to kiss her. She wriggled and struggled, and tried to push him away.

"Unhand me," she said, alarmed; "unhand me at once, or I'll scream."

"Lot of good it'll do you. Come," he replied, "remember your promise.

I've kept my part, try and keep yours with good grace or – "

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"Or by the holy Virgin, it'll be so much the worse for you! I know – " he stopped, and then he added: "In fact, I know what I know. Remember, therefore, it is much better to have Vranic for your friend than for your foe."

"Mind, you think me a dove."

"I only know that women have long hair and little brains. Try and not be like most of them."

"Mind, I might for once have more brains than you; therefore, I entreat you, nay, I command you, not to try and see me to-morrow."

"As for that, I'll use my own discretion."

Saying these words, he went off, and left Milena alone. As soon as he had disappeared, she went in, and sank down on the hearth; there, leaning her elbows on her knees, she hid her face between her palms; then she began nursing her grief.

"They say I am happy," she muttered to herself, "because I am rich – though I have not a penny that I can call my own – because I can eat white bread every day. Yet would it not be better by far to be an animal and graze in the fields, than eat bread moistened with my own tears? Oh! why was I not born a man? Then, at least, I might have gone where I liked – done what I pleased.

"They think I am happy, because no one knows what my life has been; though, it is true, what is a woman's life amongst us?

"She toils in the field the whole of the live-long day, whilst her husband smokes his pipe. She is laden like a beast of burden; she is yoked to the plough with an ox or an ass, and when they go to pasture she trudges home with the harness, to nurse the children or attend to household work. Meanwhile, her master leisurely chats with his friends at the inns, or listens to the guzlar.

"What is her food? The husks that dogs cannot eat, the bones which have already been picked. If Turkish women have no souls, they, at least, are not treated like beasts during their lifetime.

"Oh! holy Virgin, why was I not born a man?"

That evening Radonic came home more sullen and peevish than usual; still, he was sober. He sat down to supper, and Milena waited upon him. As soon as he had pushed his plate away:

"Have you seen Vranic to-day?" he asked, gruffly.

"I have," answered the wife, meekly.

"Ah, you have!" and he uttered a fearful oath.

Milena crossed herself.

"And where have you seen him?"

"He came here at the door."

"May he have a fit to-night," he grunted. Then, after a puff at his pipe: "And what did he say?"

"That you intended starting to-morrow morning for Montenegro, to buycastradina, and – "

Radonic gave such a mighty thump on the table that the bukara was upset. It rolled and fell to the ground before it could be caught. Milena hastened to pick it up, but the wine was spilt. The husband thereupon, not knowing how to vent his spite, gave a kick to the poor woman just as she stooped to pick it up. She slipped and fell sprawling to the ground, uttering a stifled groan. Then she got up, deathly pale, and went to sit down in a corner of the room, and began to cry unperceived.

"And what did you answer when he told you that I was starting?"

"I begged him to leave me in peace, and above all not to come to-morrow evening, if his life was dear to him."

"Ah! you begged him, did you? Well, if ever man was blessed with a foolish wife, I am."

A moment's silence followed, after which he added:

"What a fool a man is who gets married – above all, a sailor who takes as his wife a feather-brained creature, as you are. May God hurl a thunderbolt at me if I'd marry again were I but free."

Poor Milena did not reply, for she was inured to such taunts, Radonic being one of those men who pride themselves on speaking out their own minds. She kept crying quietly – not for the pain she felt, but because she dreaded the fatal consequences of the kick she had just received.

"Will you stop whimpering, or I'll come and give you something to cry for. It's really beyond all powers of endurance to hear a woman whine and a pig squeak; if there is a thing that drives me mad, it's that."

Thereupon Radonic began to puff at his pipe savagely, snarling and snorting as he smoked.

"And may I ask why you begged that double-faced, white-livered friend of yours not to come to-morrow evening?" he asked, after some minutes.

"Vranic was never a friend of mine," said Milena, proudly.

"Admitting he wasn't, still you haven't answered my question; but I suppose it doesn't suit you to answer, does it?"

"Why not? I begged him not to come because I was afraid some mischief might ensue, withal you promised me not to be rash."

"I promised you, did I? Anyhow, I find that you take a great interest in this friend of mine, far more than it becomes an honest woman." Then, with a scowl and a sneer: "If you are honest."

Milena winced, and grew deathly pale. She did not give her husband any answer, so he, after grunting and grumbling and smoking for some time, got up and went to bed. She, however, remained where she was seated – or rather crouched – for she knew that she could not sleep.

How could she sleep?

First, she was not feeling well. The kick she had received in her side had produced a slight, dull, gnawing soreness; moreover, she felt – or at least she fancied she could feel – a gnawing pain; it was not much of a pain, only it seemed as if a watch were ticking there within her. She shuddered and felt sick, a cold sweat gathered on her brow, and she trembled from head to foot.

Some women in her state – she had heard – never got over the consequences of a blow; perhaps the kick might produce mortification, and then in a few days she would die. Yes, she felt as if she had received an inward incurable bruise. Well, after all, it was but right; she had deceived her husband; he had revenged himself. Now they were quits.

Still tears started to her eyes, and sobs rose to her throat.

Well, after all, she thought, what did it matter if she died? This wretched life would be over.

Only – Only what?

Yes, she avowed it to herself; she longed to see Uros' fond face once more before dying. With her hand locked in his, her eyes gazing upon him, death would have almost been bliss.

With a repressed and painful yearning, her lover's name at last escaped her lips.

Radonic, who had been snoring as if he was about to suffocate, uttered a kind of snorting sound, then he started and woke with a fearful curse on his lips.

Milena, shuddering, uttered a half-stifled cry.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing, I was only dreaming. I thought that a young sailor, whom I once crippled with a kick, had gripped me by my neck, and was choking me."

"It must have been the morina" (the nightmare) "sitting on you," and Milena crossed herself.

"How is it you are not in bed?" he asked, scowling.

She did not speak for an instant.

He started up to look at her.

"Perhaps that villain is sneaking about the house, and you wish to warn him?"

"Your jealousy really drives you mad."

"Well, then, will you speak? Why are you not yet in bed?"

"I – I don't feel exactly well."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"The kick you gave me," she retorted, falteringly.

"Why, I hardly touched you! well, you are getting mighty delicate; you ought to have had the kick I gave that sailor lad, then you would have known the strength of my foot!"

"Yes, but – " She checked herself, and then added: "Women are delicate."

"Oh! so you are going to be a grand lady, and be delicate, are you? Who ever heard of a Montenegrin being delicate?" Then he added: "If you don't feel well, go to bed and try to sleep."

Thereupon he turned on the other side, and began to snore very soon afterwards.

Milena began to think of what had been and might have been.

She had sinned, foolishly, thoughtlessly; but since that fatal night she had never known a single moment's happiness. As time passed, the heinousness of her sin rose up before her, more dreadful, more appalling.

Still, was it the sin itself, or its dire consequences, that rendered her so moody, so timorous?

She never asked herself such a question; she only knew that she now started, like a guilty thing, at the slightest noise, and she shivered if anybody spoke to her abruptly. At times she fancied everybody could read her guilt in her face.

She had been more than once tempted, of late, to tell her husband that, in some months, she would be a mother. Still, the words had ever stuck in her throat; she could never nerve herself enough to speak.

Though he might probably never have got to know the real truth, could she tell him that he was the father of her child, or, at least, allow him to think so? No, she could never do that, for it was impossible to act that lie the whole of her life. Could she see her husband, returning from a long voyage, take in his arms and fondle the child that was not his, the child that he would strangle if he knew whose it was?

Although an infant is the real, nay, the only bond of married life, still, the child of sin is a spectre ever rising 'twixt husband and wife, estranging them from one another for ever.

Then she had better confess her guilt at once. And bring about three deaths? Aye, surely; Radonic was not a man to forgive. He had crippled a sailor lad for some trifle.

She must keep her secret a little longer – and then?

Thereupon she fell on her knees before the silver-clad image of the Virgin.

"Oh, holy Virgin, help me! for to whom can I turn for help but to thee? Help me, and I promise thee never to sin again, either by word or action, all my life." And she kissed the icon devoutly. "Oh, holy Virgin, help me! for thou canst do any miracle thou likest. Show mercy upon me, and draw me from this sorrowful plight. I shall work hard, and get thee, with my earnings, as huge a taper as money can buy.

"And thou, great St. George, who didst kill a dragon to save a maid, save me from Vranic; and every year, upon thy holy day, I shall burn incense and light a candle before thy picture, if thou wilt listen to my prayer."

After that, feeling somewhat comforted, she went to bed, and at last managed to fall asleep, notwithstanding the pain she felt in her side.

On the morrow Radonic went away as usual, and Milena was left alone. The day passed away slowly, gloomily. The weather was dull, sultry, oppressive. The sirocco that blew every now and then in fitful, silent gusts, was damp, stifling, heavy. A storm was brewing in the air overhead, and all around there was a lull, as if anxious Nature were waiting in sullen expectation for its outburst. The earth was fretful; the sky as peevish as a human being crossed in his designs. The hollow, rumbling noise in the clouds seemed the low grumbling of contained anger.

Everybody was more or less unsettled by the weather – Milena more than anyone else. As the day passed her nervousness increased, and solitude grew to be oppressive.

Her husband, before leaving the house, had told her to go and spend the evening at her kinswoman's, as a bee was to be held there; the women spun, and the men prepared stakes for the vines. Bellacic was fond of company, and he liked to have people with merry faces around him, helping him to while away the long evening hours; nor did he grudge a helping hand to others, whenever his neighbours had any kind of work for him to do.

"I'll come there and fetch you as soon as I've settled my business with Vranic," said Radonic, going off.

Milena, understanding that her husband wanted her out of the way, decided upon remaining at home, and, possibly, preventing further mischief.

The day had been dark and gloomy from morning; the clouds heaped overhead grew always blacker, and kept coming down lower and ever lower. Early in the afternoon the light began to wane. Her uneasiness increased at approaching night. With the gloaming her thoughts grew dreary and dismal. She was afraid to remain at home; she was loth to go away. Unable to work any longer, she went outside to sit on the doorstep and spin. Now, at last, the rain began, and lurid flashes were seen through the several heaps and masses of clouds.

The lightning showed to her excited imagination not only numberless witches, morine and goblins, chasing and racing after each other like withered leaves in a storm, but in that horrid landscape she perceived murderous battles, hurtling onslaughts, fearful frays and bloodshed, followed by spaces that looked like fields of fire and gory hills of trodden snow. It was too dreadful to look at, so she turned round to go in. She would light the lamp and kindle the fire. At a few steps from the threshold she heard, or, at least, she fancied she heard, someone whistle outside. She stopped to listen. Perhaps it was only the shrill sound of the wind through the leafless bushes; for the wind has at times the knack of whistling like a human being.

She again advanced a step or two towards the hearth; and as she did so, she stumbled on something. She uttered a low, muffled cry as she almost fell. On what had her foot caught? She bent down, and felt with her hand. It seemed like the corpse of a man stretched out at full length – a human creature wallowing in his own blood. A sickening sense of fear, a feeling of faintness, came over her. She hardly dared to move. Her teeth were chattering; all her limbs were trembling. Still, she managed to recover her self-possession, so as to grope and put her hand on the steel and flint. Still, such was her terror, that everything she touched assumed an uncouth, ungainly, weird shape. Having found the steel, she managed to strike a light. That faint glimmer dispelled her terror, and she asked herself how she could have been so foolish as to take a coat lying on the floor for a murdered man.

The thing that puzzled her was how that coat came to be lying there on the floor. It was her husband's old kabanica, and it must have been left on some stool.

As all these thoughts flitted through her mind, a loud crack was heard – a jarring sound amidst the hushed stillness of the house. Milena shuddered; a hand seemed to grip her throat. Her heart stopped for a moment; then it began to throb and beat as if it were going to burst. She gasped for breath.

What was that ominous noise? The hoop of a tub had broken!

To the uninitiated this might seem a trifle, but to those versed in occult lore it was a fearful omen. Someone was to die in that house, and this death was to happen soon, very soon; perhaps before daybreak.

She was so scared that she could not remain a moment longer in that house; so, wrapping herself up in her husband's old coat, she hastened out of the house. Just then Uros' last words sounded in her ears:

"If you are alone and in trouble, go to my mother; she will not only be a friend to you, but love you as a daughter for my sake."

Her husband that morning had sent her to Mara's; she could not remain alone any longer; it was Kismet that she should go. Besides, Vranic might be coming now at any moment, and even if she swore to him that her husband had not started, he would not believe her; then she would only excite her husband to greater wrath if he came and found him alone with her. No, on the whole, it was better by far to obey her husband's behest; therefore, she started off. She ran quickly through the pouring rain, and never stopped till she was at Bellacic's door.

"Oh! Milena, is it you?" said Mara, her motherly eyes twinkling with a bright smile of welcome; "though, to tell you the real truth, I almost expected you."

"Why?"

"Because a big fly has been buzzing round me, telling me that some person who is fond of me would come and see me. Oracles are always true; besides," added she, with a smile and a sly look, "just guess of what I've been dreaming?"

"Of black grapes, that bring good luck, I suppose."

"No, of doves; so I'll surely get a letter from Uros to-morrow or the day after."

Milena looked down demurely; she blushed; then, to turn away the conversation, she added:

"To-day, for a wonder, Radonic has sent me to pass the evening with you; he'll come to fetch me later on – at least, he said he would."

"It is a wonder, indeed – why, what's come over him? He must have put on his coat inside out when he got up."

Milena thereupon told her friend why her husband did not want her at home.

"Anyhow, I'm very glad you've come, for I'm embroidering two waistcoats – one for Uros, the other for Milenko – and my poor eyes are getting rather weak, so you can help me a little with the fine stitching."

"Radonic told me that some of your neighbours are coming to make stakes."

"Are they? My husband did not say anything about it."

After some time, Markovic and his wife, and several other neighbours, made their appearance.

As every man came in, he greeted Milena, and, seeing her alone, asked her where Radonic was. She, like a true Montenegrin, warded off the question by answering with a shrug of her shoulders and in an off-hand way:

"May the devil take him, if I know where he is. I daresay he'll pop up by-and-bye."

Etiquette not only requires a wife to avoid speaking of her husband, but also to eschew him completely when present, just as more northern people ignore entirely the name of certain indispensable articles of clothing.