To Slimak they said: 'After such a reception we will promise to build the station quite near to you.'

'I don't know what you mean?'

'We are going to build a railway.'

Slimak scratched his head.

'What makes you so doubtful?' asked the men.

'I'm thinking that this will turn out badly for us,' Slimak replied; 'I shan't earn anything by driving.'

The men laughed. 'Don't be afraid, my friend, it will be a very good thing for everybody, especially for you, as you will be near the station. And first of all you will sell us your produce and drive us.

Let us begin at once, what do you want for your fowls?'

'I leave it to you, sir.'

'Twenty-five kopeks, then.'

Slimakowa looked at her husband. This was double the amount they had usually taken. 'You can have them, sir,' she cried.

'That scoundrel of a Jew charged us fifty,' murmured the younger man.

They agreed to buy b.u.t.ter, cheese, crayfish, cuc.u.mber, and bread; the younger man expressing surprise at the cheapness of everything, and the elder boasting that he always knew how to drive a good bargain. When they left, they paid Slimakowa sixteen paper roubles and half a silver rouble, asking her if she was sure that she was not cheating herself.

'G.o.d forbid,' she replied. 'I wish I could sell every day at that price.'

'You will, when we have built the railway.'

'May G.o.d bless you!' She made the sign of the cross over them, the farm labourer knelt down, and Slimak took off his cap. They all accompanied their guests as far as the ravines.

When they returned, Slimak set everyone to work in feverish haste.

'Jagna, get the b.u.t.ter ready; Maciek and Jendrek, go to the river for the crayfish; Magda, take three score of the finest cuc.u.mbers, and throw in an extra ten. Jesus Mary! Have we ever done business like this! You will have to buy yourself a new silk kerchief, and a new shirt for Jendrek.'

'Our luck has come,' said Slimakowa, 'and I must certainly buy a silk kerchief, or else no one in the village will believe that we have made so much money.'

'I don't quite like it that the new carriages will go without horses,'

said Slimak; 'but that can't be helped.'

When they took their produce to the engineers' encampment, they received fresh orders, for there were more than a dozen men, who made him their general purveyor. Slimak went round to the neighbouring cottages and bought what he needed, making a penny profit on every penny he spent, while his customers praised the cheapness of the produce. After a week the party moved further off, and Slimak found himself in possession of twenty-five roubles that seemed to have fallen from the sky, not counting what he had earned for the hire of his horses and cart, and payment for the days of labour he had lost. But somehow the money made him feel ashamed.

'Do you know, Jagna,' he said, 'perhaps we ought to go after the gentlemen and give them back their money.'

'Oh nonsense!' cried the woman, 'trading is always like that. What did the Jew charge for the chickens? just double your price.'

'But it is the Jew's trade, and besides, he isn't a Christian.'

'Therefore he makes the greater profits. Come, Josef, the gentlemen did not pay for the things only, but for the trouble you took.'

This, and the thought that everybody who came from Warsaw obviously had much money to spend, rea.s.sured the peasant.

As he and the rest of the family were so much occupied with their new duties, all the harvesting fell to Maciek's share. He had to go to the hill from early dawn till late at night, and cut, bind, and shock the sheaves single-handed. But in spite of his industry the work took longer than usual, and Slimak hired old Sobieska to help him. She came at six o'clock, armed with a bottle of 'remedy' for a wound in the leg, did the work of two while she sang songs which made even Maciek blush, until the afternoon, and then took her 'remedy'. The cure then pulled her down so much that the scythe fell from her hand.

'Hey, gospodarz!' she would shout. 'You are raking in the money and buying your wife silk handkerchiefs, but the poor farm labourers have to creep on all fours. It's "Cut the corn, Sobieska and Maciek, and I will brag about like a gentleman!" You will see, he will soon call himself "Pan Slimaczinski."[1] He is the devil's own son, for ever and ever. Amen.'

[Footnote 1: The ending _ski_ denotes n.o.bility.]

She would fall into a furrow and sleep until sundown, though she was paid for a full day's work. As she had a sharp tongue, Slimak had no wish to offend her. When he haggled about the money, she would kiss his hand and say: 'Why should you fall out with me, sir? Sell one chicken more and you'll be all right.'

'Cheek always pays!' thought Maciek.

On the following Sunday, when everyone was ready to go to church, Maciek sat down and sighed heavily.

'Why, Maciek, aren't you going to church?' asked Slimak, seeing that something was amiss.

'How can I go to church? You would be ashamed of me.'

'What's the matter with you?'

'Nothing is the matter with me, but my feet keep coming through my boots.'

'That's your own fault, why didn't you speak before? Your wages are due, and I will give you six roubles.'

Maciek embraced his feet....

'But mind you buy the boots, and don't drink away the money.'

They all started; Slimak walked with his wife, Magda with the boys, and Maciek by himself at a little distance. He dreamt that Slimak would become a gentleman when the railway was finished, and that he, Maciek, would then wait at table, and perhaps get married. Then he crossed himself for having such reckless ideas. How could a poor fellow like him think of marrying? Who would have him? Probably not even Zoska, although she was wrong in the head and had a child.

This was a memorable Sunday for Slimak and his wife. She had bought a silk kerchief at a stall, given twenty kopeks to the beggars, and sat down in the front pew, where Grybina and Lukasiakowa had at once made room for her. As for Slimak, everyone had something to say to him. The publican reproached him for spoiling the prices for the Jews, the organist reminded him that it would be well to pay for an extra Ma.s.s for the souls of the departed, even the policeman saluted him, and the priest urged him to keep bees: 'You might come round to the Vicarage, now that you have money and spare time, and perhaps buy a few hives. It does no harm to remember G.o.d in one's prosperity and keep bees and give wax to the Church.'

Gryb came up with an unpleasant smile. 'Surely, Slimak, you will treat everybody all round to-day, since you've been so successful?'

'You don't treat the village when you have made a good bargain, neither shall I,' Slimak snubbed him.

'That's not surprising, since I don't make as much profit on a cow as you make on a chicken.'

'All the same, you're richer than other people.'

'There you're right,' Wisniewski supported Slimak, asking him for the loan of a couple of roubles at the same time. But when Slimak refused, he complained of his arrogance.

Maciek did not get much comfort out of the money given him for boots.

He stood humbly at the back of the church, so that the Lord should not see his torn sukmana. Then the beggars reminded him that he never gave them anything. He went to the public-house to get change.

'How about my money, Pan Maciek?' said the publican.

'What money?'