I crawled out of the mire and was immediately gripped with cramps of vomiting. They shook me so long that my strength vanished and I slid down completely exhausted into the stinging, burning bushes of thistle, fern, and ivy.

I heard the distant sound of the organ and human singing and I reasoned that after the Ma.s.s the people might come out of the church and drown me again in the pit if they saw me alive in the bushes. I had to escape and so I darted into the forest. The sun baked the brown crust on me and clouds of large flies and insects besieged me.

As soon as I found myself in the shade of the trees I started rolling over in the cool, moist moss, rubbing myself with cold leaves. With pieces of bark I sc.r.a.ped off the remaining muck. I rubbed sand in my hair and then rolled in the gra.s.s and vomited again.

Suddenly I realized that something had happened to my voice. I tried to cry out, but my tongue flapped helplessly in my open mouth. I had no voice. I was terrified and, covered with cold sweat, I refused to believe that this was possible and tried to convince myself that my voice would come back. I waited a few moments and tried again. Nothing happened. The silence of the forest was broken only by the buzzing of the flies around me.

I sat down. The last cry that I had uttered under the falling missal still echoed in my ears. Was it the last cry I would ever utter? Was my voice escaping with it like a solitary duck call straying over a huge pond? Where was it now? I could envision my voice flying alone under the high-arched, vaulting ribs of the church roof. I saw it knocking against the cold walls, the holy pictures, against the thick panes of colored gla.s.s in the windows, which the sun's rays could scarcely penetrate. I followed its aimless wanderings through the dark aisles, where it wafted from the altar to the pulpit, from the pulpit to the balcony, from the balcony to the altar again, driven by the multichorded sound of the organ and the groundswell of the singing crowd.

All the mutes I had ever seen paraded by under my lids. There were not very many of them and their absence of speech made them seem very much alike. The absurd twitching of their faces tried to subst.i.tute for the missing sound of their voices, while the frantic movement of their limbs took the place of their un-forthcoming words. Other people always looked at them with suspicion; they appeared like strange creatures, shaking, grimacing, dribbling heavily down their chins.

There must have been some cause for the loss of my speech. Some greater force, with which I had not yet managed to communicate, commanded my destiny. I began to doubt that it could be G.o.d or one of His saints. With my credit secured by vast numbers of prayers, my days of indulgence must have been innumerable; G.o.d had no reason to inflict such terrible punishment on me. I had probably incurred the wrath of some other forces, which spread their tentacles over those G.o.d had abandoned for some reason or other.

I walked farther and farther from the church, plunging into the thickening forest. From the black earth that the sun never reached stuck out the trunks of trees cut down long ago. These stumps were now cripples unable to clothe their stunted mutilated bodies. They stood single and alone. Hunched and squat, they lacked the force to reach up toward the light and air. No power could change their condition; their sap would never rise up into limbs or foliage. Large knotholes low on their boles were like dead eyes staring eternally with unseeing pupils at the waving crests of their living brethren. They would never be torn or tossed by the winds but would rot slowly, the broken victims of the dampness and decay of the forest floor.

12.

When the village boys who were lying in wait for me in the forest caught me at last, I expected something terrible to happen to me. Instead, I was taken to the head of the village. He made certain that I had no sores or ulcers on my body and that I could make the sign of the cross. Then, after several unsuccessful attempts to place me with other peasants, he handed me over to a farmer called Makar.

Makar lived with his son and daughter on a farmstead set apart from the rest of the settlement. Apparently his wife had died long ago. He himself was not well known in the village. He had arrived only a few years before and was treated as a stranger. But rumors circulated that he avoided other people because he sinned both with the boy he called his son and with the girl he called his daughter. Makar was short and stocky, and had a thick neck. He suspected I only pretended to be mute to avoid betraying my Gypsy speech. Sometimes at night he would rush into the tiny attic in which I slept and try to force a scream of fear from me. I would awake shaking and open my mouth like a baby chick wanting to be fed, but no sound came out. He watched me intently and seemed disappointed. After repeating the test from time to time, he eventually gave up.

His son Anton was twenty years old. He was a redhead with pale eyes and no eyelashes. He was shunned in the village as much as his father. When someone spoke to him he would glance indifferently at the speaker and then turn silently away. They called him the Quail, because he was like that bird in his habit of speaking only to himself and never answering other voices.

There was also the daughter Ewka, a year younger than the Quail. She was tall and blond and thin with b.r.e.a.s.t.s like unripe pears and hips that allowed her to squeeze easily between the staves of a fence. Ewka never visited the village either. When Makar went with Quail to sell rabbits and rabbit skins in the neighboring villages, she remained alone. She was visited occasionally by Anulka, the local purveyor of cures.

Ewka was not liked by the villagers. The peasants said she had a ram in her eyes. They laughed at the goiter which was beginning to disfigure her neck, and at her hoa.r.s.e voice. They said that the cows lost their milk in her presence, and that was why Makar kept only rabbits and goats.

I often heard peasants mutter that Makar's strange family should be turned out of the village and his house burned down. But Makar did not listen to such threats. He always carried a long knife in his sleeve, and he could throw it with such perfect aim that he once pinned a c.o.c.kroach to a wall at five paces. And Quail held a hand grenade in his pocket. He had found it on a dead partisan, and he always threatened the person and family of anyone who bothered him or his father or sister.

Makar kept a trained wolfhound, which he called Ditko, in the backyard. There were the rabbit cages arranged in rows in the outbuildings surrounding the yard. Only wire netting separated the cages from one another. The rabbits sniffed and communicated while Makar could watch them all at one glance.

Makar was a rabbit expert. In his cages he had many splendid specimens too costly for even the wealthiest farmers. At the farm he had four she-goats and a male goat. The Quail looked after them, milked them, took them out to pasture, and sometimes locked himself up with them in the stable. When Makar came home after a successful sale, both he and his son would get drunk and go to the goats' quarters. Ewka used to hint maliciously that they were enjoying themselves in there. At such times Ditko was tied close to the door to prevent anyone approaching.

Ewka did not like her brother and father. Sometimes she would not leave the house for days, fearing that Makar and Quail would force her to spend the whole afternoon with them in the goats' stable.

Ewka liked to have me around when she was cooking. I helped to peel the vegetables, brought firewood, and carried out the ashes.

Sometimes she asked me to sit close to her legs and kiss them. I used to cling to her slim calves and start kissing them very slowly from the ankles, first with a light touch of the lips and gentle strokes of the hand along the taut muscles, kissing the soft hollow under her knee, up on the smooth white thighs. I gradually lifted her skirt. I was urged on by light taps on my back, and I hastened upward, kissing and half biting the tender flesh. When I reached the warm mound, Ewka's body began to shake spasmodically. She ran her fingers wildly through my hair, caressed my neck and pinched my ears, panting faster and faster. Then she pressed my face hard against herself and after a moment of trance fell back on the bench, all spent.

I also liked what followed next. Ewka sat on the bench, holding me between her open legs, hugging and caressing me, kissing me on my neck and face. Her dry heatherlike hair fell over my face as I looked into her pale eyes and saw a scarlet blush spread from her face to her neck and shoulders. My hands and mouth revived again. Ewka began to tremble and breathe deeper, her mouth turned cold and her shaking hands pulled me to her body.

When we heard the men coming, Ewka would rush to the kitchen, fixing her hair and skirts, while I ran to the rabbit hutches for the evening feeding.

Later, after Makar and his son had gone to sleep, she brought me my meal. I ate it quickly while she lay down naked by my side, eagerly stroking my legs, kissing my hair, hastily removing my clothes. We would lie together and Ewka would press her body tightly to mine, asking me to kiss and suck her, now here, and now there. I followed all her wishes, doing all kinds of things even if they were painful or meaningless. Ewka's motions became spasms, she twitched under me, then scrambled on top, then made me sit on her, grasped me eagerly, dug her nails into my back and shoulders. We spent most of the nights like this, dozing off from time to time, and waking again to yield to her seething emotions. Her whole body seemed to be tormented by secret internal eruptions and tensions. It grew taut like a rabbit skin stretched on a board to dry, and then it relaxed again.

At times Ewka would come for me at the rabbit huts in the daytime, when Quail was alone with the goats and Makar had not yet returned home. We jumped over the fence together and disappeared in the high-growing wheat. Ewka led the way and chose a safe hiding place. We would lie down on the stubbly ground, where Ewka urged me to undress faster, and tugged impatiently at my clothes. I sank onto her and tried to satisfy all her different whims, while the heavy ears of wheat moved over us like the swells of the tranquil pond. Ewka would fall asleep for a few moments. I scanned this golden river of wheat, noticing the bluebottles timidly hovering in the sun's rays. Higher up the swallows promised good weather with their intricate gyrations. b.u.t.terflies circled in carefree pursuit and a lonely hawk hung high in the sky, like an eternal warning, waiting for some unsuspecting pigeon.

I felt secure and happy. Ewka moved in her nap, her hand sought me instinctively, and it bent the wheat stalks on its way to me. I crawled over to her and worked my way between her legs and kissed her.

Ewka tried to make me become a man. She would visit me at night and tickle my parts, painfully pushing in thin straws, squeezing, licking. I was surprised to perceive something I had not known before; things over which I had no control began to happen. It was still spasmodic and unpredictable, sometimes rapid, sometimes slow, but I knew I could not stop the feeling any more.

When Ewka fell asleep at my side, muttering through her dreams, I pondered all those things, listening to the sounds of the rabbits around us.

There was nothing I would not do for Ewka. I forgot my fate of a Gypsy mute destined for fire. I ceased to be a goblin jeered at by herders, casting spells on children and animals. In my dreams I turned into a tall, handsome man, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, with hair like pale autumn leaves. I became a German officer in a tight, black uniform. Or I turned into a birdcatcher, familiar with all the secret paths of the woods and marshes.

In these dreams my artful hands induced wild pa.s.sions in the village girls, turning them into wanton Ludmilas who chased me through flowery glades, lying with me on beds of wild thyme, among fields of goldenrod.

I clung to Ewka in my dreams, seizing her like a spider, entwining as many legs around her as a centipede has. I grew into her body like a small twig, grafted on a broad-limbed apple tree by a skillful gardener.

There was another recurring dream, bringing a different kind of vision. Ewka's attempt to make a grown man of me succeeded instantly. One part of my body grew rapidly into a monstrous shaft of incredible size, while the rest remained unchanged. I became a hideous freak; I was locked in a cage and people watched me through bars, laughing excitedly. Then Ewka came naked through the crowd and joined me in a grotesque embrace. I became a horrible growth on her smooth body. The witch Anulka lurked nearby with a big knife, ready to cut me away from the girl, to mutilate me foully and throw me to the ants.

The sounds of dawn ended my nightmares. The hens squawked, the roosters crowed, the rabbits stamped their feet in hunger, while Ditko, annoyed by it all, started growling and barking. Ewka furtively hurried home and I surrendered to the rabbits the gra.s.s our bodies had warmed.

Makar inspected the hutches several times daily. He knew all the rabbits by name and nothing escaped his attention. He had some favorite females whose grazing he watched over himself, and he would not leave their cages when they had their litters. One of the females was particularly loved by Makar. She was a white giant with pink eyes and had not had any young. Makar used to take her to the house and keep her there for several days, after which she seemed quite ill. After some of these visits the big white rabbit bled under her tail, refused to eat, and appeared sick.

One day Makar called me over, pointed to her and ordered me to kill her. I could not believe he meant it. The white female was very valuable, for pure white skins were rare. Besides, she was very large and would no doubt prove a fertile breeder. Makar repeated his order, without looking at me or at the rabbit. I hardly knew what to do. Makar always killed the rabbits himself, afraid that I was not strong enough to execute them quickly and painlessly. Skinning and dressing them was my job. Later Ewka made tasty dishes of them. Noticing my hesitation, Makar slapped my face and once again ordered me to kill the rabbit.

She was heavy and I had difficulty dragging her to the yard. She struggled and squealed so that I could not lift her high enough by the hind legs to deal her a lethal blow behind the ears. I had no choice but to kill her without lifting her up. I waited for the right moment and then hit the animal with all my strength. She fell down. To make doubly sure I hit her again. When I thought she was dead I hung her on a special post. I sharpened my knife on a stone and started the skinning.

First, I cut the skin on the legs, carefully separating the tissue from the muscle, anxiously avoiding any damage to the hide. After each cut I pulled the skin down, until I got to the neck. That was a difficult spot, for the blow behind the ears had caused so much bleeding that it made it hard to distinguish between the skin and the muscle. Since any damage to a valuable rabbit skin enraged Makar, I did not dare to think what would happen if I nicked this one.

I started detaching the skin with added care, pulling it slowly toward the head, when suddenly a tremor ran through the hanging body. Cold sweat covered me. I waited a moment, but the body remained still. I was rea.s.sured and, thinking it an illusion, resumed my task. Then the body twitched again. The rabbit must have been only stunned.

I ran for the club to kill her, but a horrible shriek stopped me. The partially skinned carca.s.s started to jump and squirm on the post where it was suspended. Bewildered and not knowing what I was doing, I released the struggling rabbit. She fell down and started running immediately, now forward, now backward. With her skin hanging down behind her she rolled on the ground uttering an unending squeal. Sawdust, leaves, dirt, dung, clung to the bare, b.l.o.o.d.y flesh. She wriggled more and more violently. She lost all sense of direction, blinded by flaps of skin falling over her eyes, catching twigs and weeds with it as with a half pulled-off stocking.

Her piercing shrieks caused pandemonium in the yard. The terrified rabbits went mad in their hutches, the excited females trampled their young, the males fought one another, squealing, hitting their rumps on the walls. Ditko was jumping and straining at his chain. The hens flapped their wings in a desperate attempt to fly away and then collapsed, resigned and humiliated, in the tomatoes and onions.

The rabbit, now completely red, was still running. She dashed through the gra.s.s, then returned to the hutches; she tried to struggle through the bean patch. Each time her loose hanging skin caught on some obstacle she halted with a horrid scream and spurted blood.

Makar rushed out of the house finally with an ax in his hand. He ran after the b.l.o.o.d.y creature and split it in two with one blow. Then he hit the heap of gore again and again. His face was pale yellow and he bellowed horrible curses.

When only a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp remained of the rabbit, Makar noticed me and came toward me quivering with rage. I did not have time to dodge and a powerful kick in the stomach sent me breathless over the fence. The world seemed to swirl. I was blinded as if my own skin were falling over my head in a black hood.

The kick immobilized me for several weeks. I lay in an old rabbit hutch. Once a day Quail or Ewka brought me some food. Sometimes Ewka came alone, but left without a word when she saw my condition.

One day Anulka, who heard about my injuries, brought me a live mole. She tore it apart before my eyes and applied it to my abdomen until the animal's body turned quite cold. When she finished she was confident that her treatment would make me well quite soon.

I missed Ewka's presence, her voice, her touch, her smile. I tried to get better rapidly, but will power alone was not sufficient. Whenever I tried to stand, a spasm of pain in my belly paralyzed me for minutes. Crawling out of the hutch to urinate was sheer agony, and I often gave up and did it where I slept.

Finally Makar himself looked in and told me that if I did not return to work within two days he would hand me over to the peasants. They were about to deliver some quotas to the railroad station and would gladly turn me over to the German military police.

I began to practice walking. My legs did not obey me and I tired easily.

One night I heard noises outside. I peered through a slot between the boards. Quail was leading the he-goat to his father's room, where an oil lamp burned dimly.

The he-goat was seldom taken out. He was a large, stinking animal, fierce and afraid of no one. Even Ditko preferred not to take him on. The he-goat attacked hens and turkeys and b.u.t.ted his head against fences and tree trunks. Once he chased me, but I hid in the rabbit hutches until Quail led him away.

Intrigued by this unexpected visit to Makar's room, I climbed onto the roof of the hutch, from where I could see into the hut. Soon Ewka came into the room, huddled in a sheet. Makar approached the buck and stroked its under-belly with birch twigs until the animal became sufficiently aroused. Then with a few light blows of the stick he forced the beast to stand up, resting his forelegs on a shelf. Ewka tossed off her sheet and, to my horror, naked she slipped under the goat, clinging to it as though it were a man. Now and then Makar pushed her aside and excited the animal still more. Then he let Ewka couple pa.s.sionately with the buck, gyrating, thrusting, and then embracing it.

Something collapsed inside me. My thoughts fell apart and shattered into broken fragments like a smashed jug. I felt as empty as a fish bladder punctured again and again and sinking into deep, muddy waters.

All these events became suddenly clear and obvious. They explained the expression I had often heard people use about people who were very successful in life: "He is in league with the Devil."

Peasants also accused one another of accepting help from various demons, such as Lucifer, Cadaver, Mammon, Exterminator, and many others. If the powers of Evil were so readily available to peasants, they probably lurked near every person, ready to pounce on any sign of encouragement, any weakness.

I tried to visualize the manner in which the evil spirits operated. The minds and souls of people were as open to these forces as a plowed field, and it was on this field that the Evil Ones incessantly scattered their malignant seed. If their seed sprouted to life, if they felt welcomed, they offered all the help which might be needed, on the condition that it would be used for selfish purposes and only to the detriment of others. From the moment of signing a pact with the Devil, the more harm, misery, injury, and bitterness a man could inflict on those around him, the more help he could expect. If he shrank from inflicting harm on others, if he succ.u.mbed to emotions of love, friendship, and compa.s.sion, he would immediately become weaker and his own life would have to absorb the suffering and defeats that he spared others.

These creatures that inhabited the human soul observed keenly not only man's every action, but also his motives and emotions. What mattered was that a man should consciously promote evil, find pleasure in harming others, nurturing and using the diabolical powers granted him by the Evil Ones in a manner calculated to cause as much misery and suffering around him as possible.

Only those with a sufficiently powerful pa.s.sion for hatred, greed, revenge, or torture to obtain some objective seemed to make a good bargain with the powers of Evil. Others, confused, uncertain of their aim, lost between curses and prayers, the tavern and the church, struggled through life alone, without help from either G.o.d or the Devil.

So far I had been one of those. I felt annoyed with myself for not having understood sooner the real rules of this world. The Evil Ones surely picked only those who had already displayed a sufficient supply of inner hatred and maliciousness.

A man who had sold out to the Evil Ones would remain in their power all his life. From time to time he would have to demonstrate an increasing number of misdeeds. But they were not rated equally by his superiors. An action harming one person was obviously worth less than one affecting many. The consequences of the evil deed were also important. Ruining the life of a young man was certainly more valuable than doing the same to an old man who hadn't long to live anyway. Furthermore, if the wrong done to someone managed to change his character in such a way as to turn him toward evil as a way of life, then a special bonus was due. Thus, simply beating up an innocent man was worth less than inciting him to hate others. But hatreds of large groups of people must have been the most valuable of all. I could barely imagine the prize earned by the person who managed to inculcate in all blond, blue-eyed people a long-lasting hatred of dark ones.

I also began to understand the extraordinary success of the Germans. Didn't the priest explain once to some peasants that even in remote times the Germans delighted in waging wars? Peace had never appealed to them. They did not want to till the soil, they had no patience to wait all year for the harvest. They preferred attacking other tribes and taking crops from them. The Germans probably were noticed then by the Evil Ones. Eager to do harm, they agreed to sell out wholesale to them. That is why they were endowed with all their splendid abilities and talents. That is why they could impose all their refined methods of wrongdoing on others. Success was a vicious circle: the more harm they inflicted, the more secret powers they secured for evil. The more diabolical powers they had, the more evil they could achieve.

No one could stop them. They were invincible; they performed their function with masterful skill. They contaminated others with hatred, they condemned whole nations to extermination. Every German must have sold his soul to the Devil at birth. This was the source of their power and strength.

Cold sweat drained over me in the dark hutch. I myself hated many people. How many times had I dreamed of the time when I would be strong enough to return, set their settlements on fire, poison their children and cattle, lure them into deadly swamps. In a sense I had already been recruited by the powers of Evil and had made a pact with them. What I needed now was their a.s.sistance for spreading evil. After all, I was still very young; the Evil Ones had reason to believe that I had a future to give to them, that eventually my hatred and appet.i.te for evil would grow like a noxious weed, spreading its seed over many fields.

I felt stronger and more confident. The time of pa.s.sivity was over; the belief in good, the power of prayer, altars, priests, and G.o.d had deprived me of my speech. My love for Ewka, my desire to do anything I could for her, also met with its proper reward.

Now I would join those who were helped by the Evil Ones. I had not yet made any real contribution to their work, but in time I could become as prominent as any of the leading Germans. I could expect distinctions and prizes, as well as additional powers enabling me to destroy others in the subtlest ways. People who had contact with me would likewise become infected with evil. They would carry on the task of destruction, and every one of their successes would earn new powers for me.

There was no time to be lost. I had to build up a potential for hatred that would force me to action and attract the attention of the Evil Ones. If they really existed, they could hardly afford to miss an opportunity to make use of me.

I did not feel pain any more. I crawled to the house and peered through the window. In the room the game with the goat was over; the beast was standing calmly in a corner. Ewka was playing with Quail. They were both naked and they took turns lying on each other, jumping like frogs, rolling on the floor, and hugging in the way Ewka had taught me. Makar, also naked, stood by and watched them from above. When the girl started kicking and jerking, while Quail seemed rigid like a fence post, Makar knelt down over them close to his daughter's face and his huge body shielded them from my sight.

I continued watching them for a few moments. The sight dribbled off my numb mind like a drop of freezing water descending an icicle.

I suddenly desired to act and hobbled outside. Ditko, familiar with my movements, only growled and went to sleep. I moved toward Anulka's hut at the far end of the village. I sneaked up to it, looking everywhere for the comet. The hens were startled by my presence and began to cackle. I peered into the small doorway.

The old woman woke up at that moment. I crouched behind a large cask and when Anulka stepped out I uttered an unearthly howl and jabbed her in the ribs with a stick. The old witch ran screaming and calling for help from the Lord and all the saints, stumbling over the poles supporting the tomato plants in the garden.

I slipped into the stuffy room and soon found an old comet by the stove. I shoveled some burning cinders into the comet and sprinted for the forest. Behind me I heard the shrill voice of Anulka and the alarmed voices of dogs and people slowly responding to her cries.

13.

At that time of year it was not very difficult to escape from a village. I often watched the boys attach homemade skates to their shoes and spread pieces of canvas over their heads, and then let the wind push them over the smooth surface of the ice covering the marshes and pastures.

The marshes spread over many miles between the villages. In the autumn the waters rose, submerging the reeds and bushes. Small fish and other creatures multiplied rapidly in the bogs. One could sometimes see a snake, its head raised stiffly, swimming with determination. The marshes did not freeze as quickly as the local ponds and lakes. It was as though the winds and reeds were defending themselves by agitating the water.

In the end, however, ice gripped everything. Only the tips of tall reeds and an odd twig or two protruded here and there, covered by a frosty coating on which snowflakes perched precariously.

The winds came wild and unharnessed. They bypa.s.sed human settlements and gained speed over the flat marshlands, swirling with them clouds of powdery snow, pushing along old branches and dried potato stalks, bending the proud heads of taller trees jutting through the ice. I knew there were many different winds and that they fought battles, b.u.t.ting each other, wrestling, trying to win more ground.

I had already made a pair of skates, hoping that someday I would have to leave the village. I attached some thick wire to two long pieces of wood, curved at one end. Then I threaded straps through the skates and attached them firmly to the boots, which I myself also made. These boots consisted of wooden rectangular soles and sc.r.a.ps of rabbit skin, reinforced on the outside with canvas.

I fixed the skates to my boots at the edge of the marshland. I hung the burning comet over my shoulder and spread the sail over my head. The invisible hand of the wind began to push me. I gathered speed with every gust that blew me away from the village. My skates glided over the ice, and I felt the warmth of my comet. I was now in the middle of a vast icy surface. The howling wind drove me along, and dark gray clouds with light edges raced along with me on my journey.

Flying along that endless white plain I felt free and alone like a starling soaring in the air, tossed by every flurry, following a stream, unconscious of its speed, drawn into an abandoned dance. Trusting myself to the frenzied power of the wind, I spread my sail even wider. It was hard to believe that the local people regarded the wind as an enemy and closed their windows to it, afraid that it might bring them plague, paralysis, and death. They always said that the Devil was master of the winds, which carried out his evil orders.

The swelling air was now pushing me with a steady thrust. I flew over the ice, dodging the occasional frozen stalks. The sun was dim, and when I finally stopped my shoulders and ankles were stiff and cold. I decided to rest and warm myself, but when I reached for my comet I found that it had blown out. Not a spark remained. I sagged with fear, not knowing what to do. I could not return to the village; I did not have the strength for the long struggle against the wind. I had no idea whether there were any farms in the vicinity, whether I could find them before nightfall, and whether they would give me shelter even if I found them.

I heard something that sounded like a chuckle in the whistling wind. I shivered at the thought that the Devil himself was testing me by leading me around in circles, waiting for the moment when I would accept his offer.

As the wind whipped me I could hear other whispers, mutterings, and moans. The Evil Ones were interested in me at last. To train me in hatred they had first separated me from my parents, then taken away Marta and Olga, delivered me into the hands of the carpenter, robbed me of my speech, then given Ewka to the he-goat. Now they dragged me through a frozen wilderness, threw snow in my face, churned my thoughts into confusion. I was in their power, alone on a gla.s.sy sheet of ice which the Evil Ones themselves had spread between remote villages. They turned somersaults over my head and could send me anywhere at their whim.

I started walking on my aching feet, oblivious of time. Every step was painful and I had to rest at frequent intervals. I sat on the ice trying to move my freezing legs, rubbing my cheeks, nose, and ears with snow sc.r.a.ped off my hair and clothes, ma.s.saging my rigid fingers, trying to find some feeling in my numb toes.

The sun was down to the horizon and its slanting rays were as cold as the moon's. When I sat down the world around me looked like a vast skillet carefully polished by an industrious housewife.

I stretched the canvas over my head, trying to catch every turbulence as I moved straight ahead toward the setting sun. When I had almost given up hope, I noticed the outlines of thatched roofs. A few moments later, when the village was clearly visible, I saw a gang of boys approaching on skates. Without my comet I was afraid of them and tried to cut away at an angle, aiming at the outskirts of the settlement. But it was too late; they had already noticed me.

The group headed in my direction. I started running against the wind, but I was out of breath and could hardly stand on my legs. I sat on the ice grasping the handle of the comet.

The boys came closer. There were ten or more. Swinging their arms, supporting one another, they progressed steadily against the wind. The air threw their voices back; I could hear nothing.

When they were quite close they split into two groups and surrounded me cautiously. I huddled on the ice and covered my face with the canvas sail, hoping they might leave me alone.

They encircled me with suspicion. I pretended not to notice them. Three of the strongest came closer. "A Gypsy," one said, "a Gypsy b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

The others stood by calmly, but when I tried to get up they jumped on me and twisted my arms behind my back. The group became excited. They beat me on the face and stomach. Blood froze on my lip and closed one eye. The tallest one said something. The others seemed to agree enthusiastically. Some held me by the legs, others started pulling off my pants. I knew what they wanted to do. I had seen a band of cowherds raping a boy from another village who happened to wander into their territory. I knew that only something unforeseen could save me.

I allowed them to take off my pants, pretending I was exhausted and could not fight any more. I guessed that they would not take off my boots and skates because they were too firmly attached to my feet. Noticing that I was limp and did not resist, they relaxed their grip. Two of the biggest crouched by my bare abdomen and struck me with frozen gloves.

I tensed my muscles, withdrew one leg slightly, and kicked one of the boys bending over me. Something cracked in his head. At first I thought it was the skate, but it was whole when I jerked it out of the boy's eye. Another one tried to grab me by the legs; I kicked him across the throat with the skate. The two boys fell on the ice, bleeding profusely. The rest of the boys panicked; most of them started dragging the wounded boys toward the village, leaving a b.l.o.o.d.y trail on the ice. Four stayed behind.

These pinned me down with a long pole used for fishing in ice holes. When I ceased struggling they dragged me toward a nearby hole. I resisted desperately at the edge of the water, but they were ready. Two of them widened the hole and then they all heaved together, pushing me under the ice with the pointed end of the pole. They tried to make sure that I could not emerge.

The icy water shut over me. I closed my mouth and held my breath, feeling the painful thrust of the spike pushing me under. I slid underneath the ice, and it rubbed my head, my shoulders, and my bare hands. And then the pointed pole was bobbing at my fingertips, no longer being jabbed into me, for the boys had let go of it.

The cold encased me. My mind was freezing. I was sliding down, choking. The water here was shallow, and my only thought was that I could use the pole to push against the bottom and lift myself to the ice-cut. I grabbed the pole and it supported me as I moved along underneath the ice. When my lungs were nearly bursting and I was ready to open my mouth and swallow anything, I found myself near the ice-cut. With one more push my head popped out and I gulped air that felt like a stream of boiling soup. I caught the sharp rim of the ice, holding on to it in such a way as to be able to breathe without emerging too often. I did not know how far the boys had gone, and I preferred to wait a while.

Only my face was still alive; I could not feel the rest of my body: it seemed to belong to the ice. I made efforts to move my legs and feet.