master had been to Gnesen to fetch the rat poison. I had drunk nothing that morning but a sip of coffee, a sip of the coffee I was taking to the master. I can swear to that."

The maid cast an inquisitive, scrutinizing glance at her mistress.

Would she turn red, or pale? Now it was out; what had been the matter with that coffee? Would she be brazen-faced enough to scold her because she had drunk some of the master's coffee? Well, then, she would just give her a piece of her mind, she would let her know that there had been poison in it.

Mrs. Tiralla, however, took no notice of what had been said.

Marianna kept her eyes fixed on her mistress. Who could say what the Pani was thinking of now? But no deeper colour came into Mrs. Tiralla's face. The maid felt quite bewildered. What! the Pani remained so calm, she neither looked terrified nor changed colour? Why, she was even smiling like an angel from heaven. She would have to get to the bottom of this. So she quickly said in a bold, resolute voice:

"I had only drunk some of the coffee which the Pani herself had made; I can't imagine how that could have made me so ill." She shrugged her shoulders and put on her most stupid and innocent look, whilst her sly eyes roved about. "The Pani would surely not cook anything bad for the master."

"No, certainly not," answered Mrs. Tiralla, quite calmly, although her heart almost stood still with terror. No fear must be shown now, not an eyelid must quiver. Ah, she had learnt to dissemble more easily now.

The woman was filled with an almost fierce, triumphant joy, which gave a natural cheerfulness to her voice as she added, "He's such a judge [Pg 141] of good living, he'll have nothing but what's good." And then she said in a friendly tone, as though she had quite forgotten Marianna's pointed words and the coffee she had taken, "Jendrek must have told a lie, then. Here." She put her hand into the little bag that hung on her belt near her keys, and brought out a new shilling. "Here, Marianna. I'm sorry that I've wronged you so long in my thoughts."

The servant forgot to thank her mistress, but stared at her completely bewildered as she left the kitchen. Oh, she--she was really--she, she--had she really put nothing into the coffee? Marianna felt she was too stupid, her head ached with all the thinking; it would be better to leave it alone. The Pani had given her a new shilling bit, the Pani was good. She was happy now.

Mrs. Tiralla stood outside the door and called for her daughter, and when Rosa obediently came she gave her a basket and put on her broad-brimmed straw hat with her own hands, "There, my darling," and told her to go and look for mushrooms for her father's supper.

Many different kinds of mushrooms were to be found in the Przykop--yellow, red, brown, orange-coloured, and greenish. When Rosa had gone out the first time to find some she had felt very anxious.

There was a dark brown one growing under a pine tree, big and firm, with a strong smell and very appetizing in appearance. But she had eyed it very uncertainly. Was that the devil's toadstool, which the schoolmaster had marked on the board at school as poisonous, or was it one of the dainty _boleti edules_, which her father liked so much? Oh, dear, she had not listened very attentively; Mr. Bohnke had given them all the characteristics, but she had been dreaming as usual. [Pg 142]

Her thoughts had flown away into infinite s.p.a.ce, away over the board which Mr. Bohnke was holding before them. He used to be very annoyed with the other children if they were not attending, but he was never annoyed with her, for she was Rosa Tiralla. Oh, if only he had been.

She did not know what to do. She hesitated doubtfully; should she take the mushroom or not? There were many of the same kind growing in the moss; they seemed to smile at her.

A wood-pigeon was cooing over the lonely girl's head. It had fluttered down from the high pine treetop and was now sitting on one of the thick bottom branches watching her. It cooed and cooed. Then Rosa at last felt certain that the bird wanted to warn her. It was a messenger from the Holy Virgin; these mushrooms were all poisonous. And the girl lifted up her dress, so that not even the hem of it should touch them, and stepped over them with anxious haste.

So Rosa came home the first time without any mushrooms. "Mother, I didn't know which were poisonous and which were not. I was afraid, so I left them all." Then Mrs. Tiralla had been more angry with her daughter than she had ever been before, and had pulled her plaits and called her a stupid goose. All the mushrooms growing in the Przykop were fit to eat; there was not a single poisonous one among them.

"But Mr. Bohnke says, and Marianna says--oh, mammie, I'm so afraid of poisonous mushrooms. How awful it would be if anybody ate one."

"You're very stupid," said her mother, but in a gentler tone. "Next time I'll go with you and show you those you are to gather. Don't cry."

And she stroked the hair which she had pulled a short time before.

[Pg 143]

Then Rosa felt pleased that her mother was no longer angry with her, and would teach her to find the right mushrooms.

The golden sun was smiling down on the moss, and everything was bright and cheerful even in the Przykop when Mrs. Tiralla went with Rosa to gather mushrooms.

"Look here, Roschen, this one. And here, this one." She pointed to different places in the moss with her foot and told the child to gather.

"But aren't those poisonous, mammie? Marianna says----"

"Fiddle-de-dee. What does Marianna know about it? She's more stupid than I took her to be; she a country girl and doesn't even know mushrooms? Pick them, pick them. They're good. They're your father's favourite dish when they're fried in b.u.t.ter and then stewed in cream."

So Rosa knelt down quickly and was soon busy gathering the red mushrooms that had an orange tinge and little white k.n.o.bs on their caps as though they had been embroidered; such bright looking mushrooms they were, the prettiest of them all. And then she gathered some of the brown ones as well, which she had avoided so carefully the first time, and her basket was soon full.

"Now we've got enough," said Mrs. Tiralla. "Now you can't make a mistake, and you'll know where to find them. Next time you can go alone."

"Oh, yes, of course I know now. But it's nice to go to the wood with you," said the child ingratiatingly, hanging on her mother's arm.

She was almost as tall as her mother now, their shoulders were on the same level; they could have been taken for sisters. The black-haired woman with [Pg 144] her velvety, sparkling eyes was certainly more beautiful, but there was such a gentle, happy expression on the girl's face that made one forgetful of her freckles and her pale blue eyes.

"How father will feast," said Rosa, and pressed her mother's arm.

"Shall you prepare them for him this evening?"

"I shall prepare them for him this evening," repeated the woman absent-mindedly. Her thoughts were already far ahead. Would he suffer when he had eaten them, as Marianna had said? She trembled. But there must be no compa.s.sion. Had she not suffered, suffered agonies from the very first hour he had come to her mother's sewing-room and had stretched out his coa.r.s.e fingers to take her? She did not like him, no, she had never liked him. And she disliked him more than ever since he had begun to drink, since he had returned one evening from the inn dead drunk; and now he often came home so intoxicated that Marianna and Jendrek had to take him under the arms and drag him into the house. If he ate some of the mushrooms, and the Holy Virgin would stand by him, he would close his eyes immediately afterwards. That would be the best thing for him. Had he not said the last time he was drunk and was crying so bitterly, "I don't suit this place. When my Sophia is a widow, will she love me more than she does now?" Yes, she would. He was quite right, and he had felt it dully in his intoxication. A monument should be erected to his memory, as beautiful a cross as could be ordered in Gradewitz, or even in Gnesen. If only he would depart, it only he would depart and leave her in peace.

The woman's feelings towards her husband became almost tender. She would make the mushrooms very [Pg 145] nice, and neither spare the b.u.t.ter nor the cream.

They should taste very, very good.

As mother and daughter left the Przykop they saw Mr. Tiralla standing at the garden gate looking out for them. He was longing for his supper, for which he felt an aching void. But there was another kind of void which tortured him still more. Now Sophia had even taken the child away with her. It was fortunate that Mikolai was coming home in the autumn, then he would have more company. Mr. Tiralla had never liked being alone, and now he liked it less than ever. There was an indefinite something that frightened him; he could not have said what it was, but it seemed to be lying in wait for him at every corner.

He called out to the two in a joyful voice. He was holding up his hand to his eyes in order to protect them from the sun that was setting blood-red behind the pines, and the two figures in their light-coloured dresses looked like angels of light. "_Psia krew_, why so late? Come, my dears, come along."

Rosa let her mother's arm go. Swinging her basket in the air she ran up to her father, "Mushrooms, mushrooms." She was glowing with happiness.

He stroked her flying hair away from her face and patted her cheeks.

"My darling, my consolation."

Why did her father look so serious? He was low-spirited. Rosa gazed at him with womanly, anxious eyes that love had sharpened. Her daddy was growing old. What a lot of lines he had in his face, lots of crooked lines like those the crows made in the snow with their feet. And still he was so stout, and had such a good appet.i.te. "Do you love me?" she asked affectionately, raising her face for him to kiss. "I love you."

[Pg 146]

He did not kiss her; he was looking at his wife, who was coming on more slowly.

It seemed to Mrs. Tiralla as though her foot faltered, as though a leaden weight were almost paralyzing her. There he stood waiting impatiently. Well, he should have them. She ran past him with a muttered "G.o.d be with me!"

n.o.body was in the kitchen. What had become of that slow hussy Marianna?

But never mind, she could not have done with her to-day. She put wood and peat on the fire with her own hands, so that the embers were soon ablaze, placed a pan on the fire, and fetched b.u.t.ter and cream from the larder. She was very busy.

At that moment Rosa came running in. "Mother, daddy asks if the mushrooms are really good?"

"Why, of course," said Mrs. Tiralla, and pushed her daughter impatiently out of the kitchen. She could not have her looking on. Then she cut the mushrooms to pieces and threw them into the pan and poured boiling water on them; they were to boil for some time, bad and good all together, so that they might lose their shape and colour and all resemble each other so much that they could not be distinguished.

n.o.body should say of her that she had set poisonous mushrooms before her husband; besides, he would not have eaten them.

The water bubbled and hissed on the stove; it was boiling fiercely, as she had made a huge fire. The food must be cooked quickly, Mr. Tiralla was longing for his supper.

Just then he stuck his head into the kitchen. "Will there soon be something to eat, Sophia?"

"There'll soon be something to eat." She put some more wood on the fire; the mushrooms were already [Pg 147] getting tender. The pan was filled with a slimy sauce that had a very powerful smell. She bent over it and sniffed. Good gracious, the smell was so pungent that it would betray her! Away with it! She quickly poured the sauce and sc.u.m off to the very last drop, took another pan, melted some more b.u.t.ter in it, and then put the mushrooms into it. The horrid odour had disappeared, now they smelt delicious.

While the mushrooms were frying in the b.u.t.ter, Mrs. Tiralla stood by with folded hands. "Holy Mother, I call on thee, do not forsake me, pray for me." (Oh, if--it only these mushrooms were cooked, he would eat them, and then?) "Jesus Christ, hear us, now and in the hour of our death." (If--if he ate some, then--then?) "Son of G.o.d, we commend this soul to thee, have mercy on it." (Oh, when he had eaten?) No, she could not pray any longer, all she could do was to whisper just above her breath, "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, a.s.sist this soul in its death-agony."

Marianna came into the kitchen. Dear, dear, was the mistress already cooking? Bustling about in her haste to get on, the girl knocked the plates together. Oh, how the Pani would scold. She ducked her head involuntarily.

But the Pani was looking straight into the glowing fire. Then suddenly awaking as from a dream she seized the pan containing the cream, poured its contents over the dish of mushrooms, shook it, and told the maid to carry it into the room.