The Pobratim: A Slav Novel Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  The fierce equinoctial blasts which that year had lasted for more thana month, were followed by a fortnight of fitful, heavy rain,intermitted by sudden gales and stormy showers. Then after a periodof dull, drizzling, foggy weather, ending in a thick squall, theclouds cleared up beautifully, the sun showed itself again, andSpring apparently succeeded to Autumn.

  The wind fell entirely. Not the slightest breeze was blowing to bringdown the dry leaves, or to bicker the smooth surface of the waters.For days and days the sea remained as even as a mass of shiningmelted lead, with the only difference that it was as fathomablyliquid and as diaphanously pure as the air itself, of which it evenhad the vaporous cerulean clearness. Far away on the offing, thewaters blended with the watchet airiness of the surroundingatmosphere, so that the line of the horizon could nowhere be seen,the blueish-grey ocean melting into the greyish-blue of the sky.Nearer the shore, the smooth translucent sheet was streaked andspotted with those sheeny stripes and silvery patches, which Shelleyterms a "coil of crystalline streams."

  The earth itself had a fleecy look. The shadowy opal greys of theheadlands, the liquid amethystine tints of the hills, the lightirradiated coasts, all rising out of the luminous waves, lookedlovelier even than they had done in summer, at noontide, when swathedby a splendent haziness, for now the cold opaque clay tints themselveslooked transparent, wrapped up as they were in that vaporous pellucidveil of mists.

  Nature was wearing now her garishly gorgeous autumnal garment, andthe foliage of the trees had acquired the richest prismatic dyes, forthe reddish russets and the glowing orange yellows predominated overthe whitish blues and the faint greens. The vegetation, but for thefunereal cypresses, had the sere hectic hue of dying life.

  The seafaring people of Budua had anything but an admiration for thatcalm, soft, misty weather, or for that placid, unruffled sea; notthat they lacked the sense of beauty, but they chafed at being keptat home, when they ought already to have been in distant parts of theMediterranean, or even returning from the farthermost corners of theAdriatic.

  Thus the departure of the _pobratim_ had already been postponed forabout a fortnight, as every day they waited patiently for afavourable wind to swell their flagging sails; but the wind nevercame. The friends, however, did not fret at this delay, and now,having stayed so long, they hoped that the calm weather wouldcontinue a little longer, so that they might spend Christmas at homewith their families.

  Radonic had sailed off some time since. Milena, after that, had goneto spend some weeks with her parents in Montenegro. On her return,she kept a good deal at home, for after the fright she had had onthat eventful night when she had seen Milenko all covered with blood,she had made up her mind to give up flirting, either with Uros orwith any other young man, and, for a short time, she kept herresolution. Moreover, she felt that she cared for the young man farmore than she liked to confess to herself, and that she thoughtoftener of him than she ought to have done, and much more than wasgood for the peace of her mind. Another reason now prompted her to beseen abroad as little as possible.

  The man who, after the quarrel at the inn, had followed Radonic tohis house, and told him of his wife's levity in her conduct towardsUros, was a certain Vranic, one of Milena's rejected suitors. He wasmore than a plain-looking man; he was mean and puny. Besides this, hehad a cast in his eye, which rendered him hateful to all people, andjustly so, for does not the wisdom of our ancients say: "Beware of aman branded by the hand of God?" Still, as if this was not enough,Vranic possessed the gift of second sight, if it can be called agift. He was, therefore, a most unlucky fellow. The priest had, itappears, made some mistake in christening him, so that nothing everhad gone on well with him.

  Vranic had, therefore, always been not only shunned by all the girlsas an uncanny kind of man who always saw ghosts, but even all the menavoided him. He ought to have left Budua and gone to live abroad in aplace where he was not known, but it is a hard thing for a man toleave his own country for ever.

  Amongst many defects, Vranic had one quality, if really it can becalled a quality. This was the stern tenacity of purpose, the stolidopiniativeness of the peasant, the stubborn firmness of the mule, theant and the worm, that nothing baffles, nothing turns aside. Oncebent upon doing something, it would have been as easy to keep waterfrom running down a hill as make him desist from his obstinacy.He had, in fact, the inert, unreasoning will of the Slovene.

  The day after Radonic's departure, Vranic had come again to make loveto Milena. Of course, she would not listen to him, but spurned himfrom her like a cur. He simply smiled, in the half-shrewd, half-apishway in which peasants grin, and threatened to report everything shedid to her husband on his return. He told her he would poisonRadonic's ear in such a way that her life would henceforth beanything but a pleasure. Milena answered that, as her conscience wasquite clear, she allowed him to act as he pleased.

  In the meanwhile Uros' love was getting the mastery over him.Milena's presence haunted him day and night; it overflowed his heartin a way that made him feel as if he were suffering from some slow,languishing fever. Looking upon Milena's face was like gazing at thefull moon on a calm summer night; only that this planet's amber lightshed a sense of peace on the surface of the rippleless waters, whilstthis woman's beauty made his heart beat faster and his nerves tinglewith excitement. Listening to her voice reminded him of thelove-songs he had heard the _guzlari_ chant on winter evenings--amatory poems which heated the blood like long draughts of strongwine. His love for her had changed his very nature; instead of caringonly for fishing and shooting, unfurling the broad sails and seeingthe breeze swell the white canvas, a yearning hitherto unknown nowfilled his breast. At times he even avoided his friend, and wentwandering alone, his steps--almost unwillingly--leading him to chooseplaces where he had met Milena, and which were still haunted by herpresence. Many a night he would roam or linger near her house, hopingto catch a glimpse of her; but, alas! she seldom came out, and shewas never seen either at her window or her door. Her lonely cottagelooked deserted, desolate.

  On the night when the brig was expected to weigh anchor, Uros slunkaway stealthily, when the crew were fast asleep, and went on shore.The inns were already shut, and not a light was to be seen in anywindow. He, therefore, plucked up all his courage, hastened to reachMilena's lonely house, and there, under her casement, he sang to herthe following _rastanak_, or farewell song:

  Though cold and deaf, farewell, love; We two must part. But can you live alone, love, If I depart?

  From o'er the boundless sea, love, And mountains high, From o'er the dark, deep wood, love, You'll hear me sigh.

  If you are deaf to me, love, Still on the plain You'll see the flowers fade, love, Seared by my pain.

  Still you are deaf to me, love, Without a tear; I go without a word, love, My soul to cheer.

  I send you back those blooms, love, Which once you gave; For they are now to me, love, Rank as the grave.

  Amongst those cold, grey buds, love, A snake doth lie, As you have not for me, love, A single sigh.

  He finished and listened, then he heard a slight noise overhead; thewindow was quietly opened, and Milena's face was seen peeping betweenthe cranny as she held the shutters ajar, for her beautiful, lustrouseyes sparkled in the darkness.

  "Uros!" she whispered, "how can you be so very foolish as to come andsing under my windows! What will the people say, if they shouldhappen to see you?"

  "Who can hear me in this lonely spot? Everybody is asleep, not amouse is stirring abroad."

  "Someone or other seems always to hang about, spying all I do. Foryour sake, and for mine, go away, I beg you. After the fright I hadupon that dreadful night, I have got to be such a coward."

  "No; the truth is, after that night, you never cared for me anymore."

  "I must not care for you;" then, with a sigh, and faintly: "nor mustyou for me."

  "Would it
make you very happy if I forgot you--if I loved someoneelse?"

  She did not give him any reply.

  "You don't answer," he said.

  "You'll forget me soon enough, Uros--far from the eyes, far from theheart."

  "And if I come back loving you more than ever?"

  "You'll be away for a long time; when you come back----"

  "Well?"

  "Perhaps I'll be dead."

  "Don't say such things, Milena, or you'll drive me mad."

  Then, with cat-like agility, he climbed the low wall, and, with handsclutching at the window-sill, and the tips of his _opanke_, orsandal-like shoes, resting on some stones jutting out, he stood atthe height of her head. His other arm soon found itself resting roundher unresisting neck. He lifted up his mouth towards hers, and theirpouting lips met in a long, lingering kiss.

  But all at once she shivered from head to foot, and, drawing herselfaway, she begged Uros to have pity on her and to go away.

  "Milena, it is perhaps the last time we meet; more than one shipnever came back to the port from which it sailed; more than onesailor never saw his birth-place again."

  "But, only think, if some one passing by should see us here."

  "Well, then, let me come in, so nobody'll see me."

  "Uros, are you mad? Allow you to come in at this hour of the night!"

  "What greater harm would there be than in the broad daylight?"

  "No; if you really love me, don't ask me such a thing."

  Uros obeyed, and, after a few minutes, with the tears gushing to hiseyes, he bade her good-bye. As he was sliding down, he thought heheard a noise of footsteps on the shingle of the pathway near thehouse. Uros shuddered and listened. Was it some man lurking there, heasked himself. If so, who could it be? Radonic had, perhaps, comeback to Budua to keep watch over his wife--catch her on the hop, andthen revenge himself upon her. The sudden fright now curdled hisblood. Still, he was not afraid for himself; he was young and strong,and he was on his guard. Even if it was the incensed husband, thenight was too dark for anyone to take a good aim and fire from adistance. If he was afraid, it was for Milena's sake. Radonic had,perhaps, returned; he had seen him climb down from his own house atthat late hour. Rash as he was, he would surely go and kill his wife,who, even if she was a flirt, was by no means as bad as what he orthe world would think her to be.

  "Anyhow," said Uros to himself, "if it is Radonic, he will eitherrush at me, or fire at me from where he is hiding; or else he will gotowards his own house." His suspense would only last a few seconds.

  It lasted much longer. Many minutes passed, if he could reckon timeby the beating of his heart. In the meanwhile he tried to fathom thedarkness from whence the slight sound had come. Not being able to seeor hear anything, he went off, walking on tip-toe; but he listenedintently as he went. All at once there was again a slight rustlingsound. Uros walked on for a while, then, stepping on the grass andcrouching between the bushes, slowly and stealthily he came back nearthe house and waited. Not many minutes had elapsed when he heard thenoise of footsteps once more, but he saw nobody.

  Oh! how his heart did beat just then! The sound of steps wasdistinctly heard upon the shingle, and yet no human being, no livingcreature, was to be seen. What could this be?

  "_Bogme ovari!_--God protect me"--he said to himself, "it is,perhaps, a ghost, a vampire!"

  Darkness in itself is repellent to our nature; therefore, to beassaulted at night, by any unseen foe, must daunt the bravest amongstthe brave.

  It is, then, not to be wondered that Uros was appalled at the idea ofhaving to become the prey of an invisible, intangible ghost, againstwhich it was impossible to struggle. He waited for a while,motionless, breathless. There was not the slightest noise, nothingwas stirring any more; but in the dusky twilight everything seemed toassume strange and weird shapes--the gnarled branches of the olivetrees looked like stunted and distorted limbs, whilst the bushesseemed to stretch forth long waving tentacles, with which to graspthe passer-by. As he looked about, he saw a light appear at adistance, flit about for a while, extinguish itself, reappear againafter some time, then go out as before. Then he heard the barking ofa dog; the sound came nearer, then it lost itself in the stillness ofthe night.

  Uros, horror-stricken, was about to take to his heels, when again heheard the footsteps on the shingle. He, therefore, stood stock-stilland waited, with a heart ready to burst. He could not leave Milena tothe danger that threatened her, so he chose to remain and fall intothe clutches of a vampire. He listened; the steps, though muffled,were those of a rather heavy man. The sound continued, slowly,stealthily, distinctly. Uros looked towards the place from whence thenoise came, and thereupon he saw a man creep out from within thedarkness of the bushes and go up towards Radonic's house.

  Uros, seeing a human figure, felt all his superstitious fears vanish;he looked well at it to convince himself that it was not somedeceptive vision, some skin all bloated with blood, as vampires are.No, it was a man. Still, who could it be, he was too short and punyto be Radonic?

  Who could this man be, going to Milena's in the middle of the night?

  A bitter feeling of jealousy came over him, a steel hand seemed tograsp his heart. Milena had just been flirting with him, could shenot do the same with another man. She had listened to his vows oflove, he had been a fool to go off when she begged him to rememberthat she was another man's wife. At that moment he hated her, and hewas vexed with himself.

  There are moments in life when we repent having been too good, forgoodness sometimes is but a sign of weakness and inexperience; itonly shows our unfitness for the great struggle of life, where theweak go to the wall.

  During the time that Radonic had been at home he had never felt thebitter pangs of jealousy as much as he did now. It humbled him tothink that he had left his place to another more fortunate rival,apparently an older man.

  Then he asked himself how he could have been so foolish as to love amarried woman.

  "After all," said he to himself, "it is but right that I shouldsuffer, why have I lifted up my eyes upon a woman who has sworn tolove another man?"

  He had sinned, and he was now punished for his crime.

  When flushed with success the voice of conscience had ever been mute,but now, when disappointment was sinking his heart, that voice criedout loudly to him. Conscience is but a coward at best, a sneak inprosperity, a bully in our misfortune.

  There in the darkness of the night, lifting his eyes up towardsheaven, he called upon the blessed Virgin to come to his help.

  "Oh! immaculate mother of Christ our Saviour, grant me the favour ofseeing that this man is no fortunate rival, that he is not Milena'slover, and henceforth I shall never lift up my eyes towards her, evenif I should have to crush my heart, I shall never harbour in it anyother feeling for her except that of a brother or a friend."

  During this time the man had gone up to the cottage door. Almostunthinkingly and with the words of the prayer upon his lips, Urosstood up, went a step onwards, and then he stopped. The man nowtapped at the door. A pause followed. The man knocked again a littlelouder. Thereupon Milena's voice was heard from within. Though Uroswas much too far to hear what she had said, he evidently understoodthat she was asking who was outside; the young man, treading on thegrass as much as he could, stole on tip-toe a little nearer thehouse.

  He could not catch the answer the man had given, for it was in a lowmuffled undertone.

  "Who are you?" repeated Milena from inside, "and what do you want?"

  "It is I, Uros," said the man in a muffled tone; "open your door, mylove."

  "Liar," shouted Uros from behind, and with a bound he had jumped uponthe man and, gripping him by the nape of the neck and by the collarof his _jacerma_, he tugged at him and dragged him away from thedoor.

  As the man struggled to free himself, Uros recognised him to beVranic--Vranic the ghost-seer, Vranic the spy.

  "How dare you come here in my name, you scoundrel," said the youngman, and
giving him a mighty shake, that tore the strong cloth of thejacket, he cast him away.

  "And pray what are you doing here at this time of the night?" askedVranic, his hand on the haft of his knife.

  "And what is that to you--are you her husband or her kinsman? But asyou wish to know, I'll tell you; I came to protect her from adastardly coward like yourself."

  "I doubt whether Radonic will be glad to hear that you go sneakinginto his house at the dead of night, just to keep his wife from anyharm; that is really good of you." And Vranic, standing aloof, burstout laughing. Then he added, "Anyhow, he'll be most grateful to youwhen he knows it."

  "And who'll tell him?"

  "I shall."

  "If I let you, you spy."

  Thereupon Uros rushed upon Vranic so unexpectedly, that the latterlost his balance, slipped and fell. The younger man held him downwith one hand, and with the other he lifted up his dagger. Seeinghimself thus overpowered:

  "What, are you going to murder me like that?" he gasped out, "do younot see that I was joking? If you'll but let me go I'll swear not tosay a word about the matter to anyone."

  "On what will you swear?"

  "On anything you like, on the holy medals round my neck."

  With a jerk that almost choked the man, Uros broke the string andsnatched the amulets from Vranic's neck, and presented them to him,saying:

  "Now, man, swear."

  Vranic took his oath.

  "Now," said Uros, "swear not to harm Milena while I am away, swearnot to worry her by your threats, or in any other way soever."

  Vranic having sworn again, was left free to get up and go off.

  When he was at a few paces from Uros he stopped, and with a scowlupon his face he muttered:

  "Those medals were not blessed, so you can use your dagger now, ifyou like, and I shall use my tongue, we shall see which of us twowill suffer most; anyhow, remember the proverb, 'Where the goatbreathes, even the vine withers.'"

  Then, stooping down, he gathered a handful of stones and flung themwith all his might at Uros, after which he took to his heels and ranoff with all his might.

  The stones went hissing by Uros, but one of them caught him on hisbrow, grazing off the skin and covering his eyes with blood. Uros,blinded by the stone, remained standing for a while, and then, seeingthat Vranic had run off, he went up to Milena's door and tappedlightly.

  "Milena," said he, "have you heard the quarrel I have had withVranic?"

  "Yes, did he hurt you?"

  "Only a mere scratch."

  "Nothing more?"

  "No."

  "Surely?"

  "No, indeed!"

  Milena would willingly have opened the door to see if Uros was onlyscratched, but she was in too great a trepidation to do so.

  "Well," added she, "if you are not hurt, please go away."

  "But are you not afraid Vranic might come back?"

  "Well, and if he does? He'll find the door shut as before. Moreover,I'm by no means afraid of him, he is the greatest coward, or at leastthe only coward, of the town; therefore do not stay here on myaccount, you can do me no good."

  "Then you do not want me?" said Uros, in a lingering way, and with asigh.

  "No; go," quoth she. "If you love me, go."

  Uros turned his back on the cottage and wended his steps homewards.The moon was now rising above the hills in the distance. Milena wentto the window and looked at the young man going off. Her heartyearned after him as he went, and she fain would have called himback.

  Poor fellow, he had fought for her, he was wounded, and now she lethim go off like that. It was not right. Was his wound but a scratch?She ought to have seen after it. It was very ungrateful of her not tohave looked after it.

  All at once Uros stopped. Her heart began to beat. He turned roundand came back on his steps. At first she was delighted, then she wasdisappointed. She wished he had not turned back.

  He walked back slowly and stealthily, trying to muffle his steps.

  What was he going to do?

  Milena ran to the door and put her ear close to the key-hole.

  She heard Uros come up to the very sill and then it seemed to herthat he had sat or crouched upon the step.

  Was he hurt? Was he going to stay there and watch over the house likea faithful dog?

  She waited a while; not the slightest sound was heard; she couldhardly keep still. At last, unable to bear it any longer:

  "Uros," said she, "is that you?"

  "Yes."

  "And what are you doing there?"

  "I was going to watch over you."

  Overcome by this proof of the young man's love, Milena slowly openedthe door, and taking Uros by both his hands she made him come in.

  The wind did not rise and the brigantine rode still at anchor in thebay. The days passed, and at last merry Christmas was drawing near.The _pobratim_--though anxious to be off--hoped that the calm weatherwould last for a week longer, that they might pass the_badnji-vecer_--or the evening of the log--and Christmas Day withtheir parents.

  Their wishes were granted; one day passed after the other and theweather was always most beautiful. Not the slightest cloud cameeither to dim or enhance the limpid blue sky, and though the morningswere now rather fresh, the days were, as yet, delightfully warm andradiant with sunshine. In the gardens the oleanders were all in fullbloom, so were also the roses, the geraniums and the China asters;whilst in the field many a daisy was seen glinting at the modestspeedwell, and the Dalmatian convolvulus entwined itself lovinglyaround the haughty acanthus, which spread out their fretted leaves tothe sun, taking up as much space as well they could, while in dampplaces the tall, feathery grasses grew amidst the sedges, the reeds,and the rushes and all kinds of rank weeds of glowing hues. Not abreath of wind came to ripple the surface of the shining blue waters.

  On the 24th a little cloud was seen far off, the colour of the watersgrew by degrees of a dull leaden tint, and the wind began to moan. Inthe meanwhile the cloudlet that had been the size of a weasel grew tobe as big as a camel, then it swelled out into the likeness of somehuge megatherium, it rolled out its massy coils and overspread thewhole space of the sky. Then the clouds began to lower, and seemed tocover the earth with a ponderous lid. The wind and the cold havingincreased, the summer all at once passed away into dreary and bleakwinter.

  Christmas was to be kept at Milos Bellacic's house, for though thetwo families had always been on the most friendly terms, they, sincethe day upon which the two young men had become _pobratim_, got to bealmost one family. Some other friends had been asked to come and makemerry with them on that evening. Amongst other guests Zwillievic,Milena's father, who was a cousin of Bellacic's, having come with hiswife to spend the Christmas holidays at Budua, had accepted hiskinsman's hospitality. Milena had also been asked to come and passthose days merrily with her parents.

  At nightfall, all the guests being already assembled, the yule-log,the huge bole of an olive tree, was, with great ado, brought to thehouse. Bellacic, standing on the threshold with his cap in his hand,said to it:

  "Welcome log, and may God watch over you."

  Then, taking the _bucara_ or wooden bottle, he began to sprinkle itwith wine, forming a cross as he did so, then he threw some wheatupon it, calling a blessing upon his house, and upon all his guests,who stood grouped behind him, after which all the guests answered inchorus, "And so be it." Thereupon all the men standing outside thehouse fired off their guns and pistols to show their joy, shouting:"May Christmas be welcome to you."

  After this Uros brought in his own log and the same ceremony had oncemore to be gone through.

  The logs were then festively placed upon the hearth, where they hadto burn the whole night, and even till the next morning.

  In the meantime a copious supper was prepared and set upon the table.In the very midst, taking the place of an _epergne_, there was alarge loaf, all trimmed up with ivy and evergreens, and in the centreof this loaf there were thrust three wax candles careful
ly twistedinto one, so as to form a taper, which was lit in honour of the HolyTrinity. Christmas Eve being a fast day, the meal consisted of fishcooked in different ways.

  First, there was a pillau with scallops, then cod--which is alwayslooked upon as the staple fare of evening--after which followedpickled tunny, eels, and so forth. The _starescina_, taking amouthful of every dish that was brought upon the table, went to throwit upon the burning log, so that it might bring him a prosperousyear; his son then followed his example.

  After all had eaten and were filled, they gathered around the hearthand squatted down upon the straw with which the floor was strewn--for, in honour of Christ, the room had been made to look as much aspossible like a manger, or a stable. They again greeted each otherwith the usual compliments, "for many years," and so forth, and blackcoffee was served in Turkish fashion, that is, in tiny cups, held bya kind of silver, or silvered metal, egg-cup instead of a saucer.Most everyone loosened his girdle, some took off their shoes, and allmade themselves comfortable for the night. Thereupon Milenko, who wassomewhat of a bard and who had studied an epic song for theoccasion, one of those heroic and wild _junaske_, took his _guzla_,and gave the company the story of "Marko Kraglievic and the Moor ofPrimorye," as follows:--

  KRAGLIEVIC MARKO I CRNI ARAPIN.

  An Arab lord had once in Primorye, A mighty castle by the spray-swept shore; Its many lofty halls were bright and gay, And Moorish lads stood watching at each door. Albeit its wealth, mirth never echoed there; Its lord was prone to be of pensive mood, And oft his frown would freeze the very air; On secret sorrow he e'er seemed to brood. At times to all his _svati_ would he say: "What do I care for all this wide domain, Or for my guards on steeds in bright array? Much more than dazzling pomp my heart would fain Have some fond tie so that the time might seem Less tedious in its flight. I am alone. A mother's heart, a sister's, or, I deem, A bride's would be far more than all I own." Thus unto him his liegemen made reply: "O, mighty lord! they say that Russia's Czar Has for his heir, a daughter meek and shy, Of beauty rare, just like the sparkling star That gleams at dawn and shines at eventide. Now, master, we do wait for thy behest. Does thy heart crave to have this maid for bride? Say, shall we sally forth unto her quest?" The master mused a while, then answered: "Aye, By Allah! fetch this Russian for my mate! Tell her she'll be the dame of Primorye, The mistress of my heart and my estate. But stop.--If Russia should not grant his child, Then tell him I shall kill his puny knights, And waste his lands. Say that my love is wild, Hot as the Lybian sun, deep as the night!" Now, after riding twenty days and more, The _svati_ reached at last their journey's end, Then straightway to the Russian King they bore Such letters as their lord himself had penned. The great Czar having read the Moor's demand, And made it known to all his lords at Court, Could, for a while, but hardly understand This strange request; he deemed it was in sport. A blackamoor to wed his daughter fair! "I had as lief," said he, "the meanest lad Of my domains as son-in-law and heir, Than this grim Moor, who must in sooth be mad." But soon his wrath was all changed into grief, On learning to his dread and his dismay, That not a knight would stir to his relief, No one would fight the Moor of Primorye! Howe'er the Queen upon that very night Did dream a dream. Within Prilipu town, Beyond the Balkan mounts, she saw a knight, Whose mighty deeds had won him great renown. (Kraglievic Marko was the hero's name); His flashing sword was always seen with awe By faithless Turks, who dreaded his great fame; And in her dream that night the Queen then saw This mighty Serb come forth to save her child. Then did the Czarin to her lord relate The vision which her senses had beguiled, And both upon it long did meditate. Upon the morrow, then, the Czar did write To Marko, asking him to come and slay This haughty Moor, as not a Russian knight Would deign to fight the lord of Primorye. As meed he promised him three asses stout, Each laden with a sack of coins of gold. As soon as Marko read this note throughout, These words alone the messenger he told: "What if this Arab killed me in the strife, And from my shoulders he do smite my head. Will golden ducats bring me back to life? What do I care for gold when I am dead?" The herald to the King this answer bore. Thereon the Queen wrote for her daughter's sake: "Great Marko, I will give thee three bags more, Six bags in all, if you but undertake To free my daughter from such heinous fate, As that of having to become the bride Of such a man as that vile renegade." To Prilipu the messenger did ride, But Marko gave again the same reply. The Czar then summoned forth his child to him: "Now 'tis thy turn," said he; "just write and try To get the Serb to kill this man whose whim Is to have thee for wife." The maid thus wrote: "O Marko, brother mine, do come at once. I beg you for the love that you devote To God and to St. John, come for the nonce To free me from the Moor of Primorye. Seven sacks of gold I'll give you for this deed, And, if I can this debt of mine repay, A shirt all wrought in gold will be your meed. Moreover, you shall have my father's sword; And as a pledge thereon the King's great seal, Which doth convey to all that Russia's lord Doth order and decree that none shall deal Its bearer harm; no man shall ever slay You in his wide domains. Come, then, with speed To free me from the lord of Primorye." To Prilipu the herald did proceed With all due haste; he rode by day and night, Through streams and meads, through many a bushy dell; At last at Marko's door he did alight. When Marko read the note, he answered: "Well--" Then mused a while, then bade the young page go. But said the youth: "What answer shall I give?" "Just say I answered neither yes nor no." The Princess saw that she would ne'er outlive Her dreadful doom, and walking on the strand, There, 'midst her sobs, she said: "O thou deep sea, Receive me in thy womb, lest the curst brand Of being this man's wife be stamped on me." Just when about to plunge she lifts her eyes, And lo! far off, a knight upon a steed, Armed cap-a-pie, advancing on, she spies. "Why weepest thou, O maid? tell me thy need, And if my sword can be of any use . . ." "Thanks, gentle sir. Alas! one knight alone Can wield his brand for me; but he eschews To fight." "A coward, then, is he." "'Tis known That he is brave." "His name?" "He did enrich The soil with Turkish blood at Cossovo. You sure have heard of Marko Kraglievic." Thereon he kissed her hand and answered low: "Well, I am he; and I come for your sake. Go, tell the Czar to give thee as a bride Unto the Moor; then merry shall we make In some _mehan_, and there I shall abide The coming of the lord of Primorye." The Princess straightway told the Czar, and he At once gave orders that they should obey All that the Serb might bid, whate'er it be. That night with all his men the Arab came-- Five hundred liegemen, all on prancing steeds; The Czar did welcome them as it became Men high in rank, and of exalted deeds. Then, after that, they all went to the inn. "Ah!" said the Moor, as they were on their way, "How all are scared, and shut themselves within Their homes; all fear the men of Primorye." But, as they reached the door of the _mehan_, The Arab, on his horse, would cross the gate, When, on the very sill, he saw a man Upon a steed. This sight seemed to amate The Arab lord. But still he said: "Stand off! And let me pass." "For you, this is no place, Miscreant heathen dog!" At such a scoff Each angry liegeman lifted up his mace. Thereon 'twixt them and him ensued a fight, Where Marko dealt such blows that all around The din was heard, like thunder in the night. He hacked and hewed them down, until a mound Of corpses lay amid a pool of blood, For trickling from each fearful gash it streamed, And wet the grass, and turned the earth in mud Of gore; whilst all this time each falchion gleamed, For Marko's sword was ruthless in the fray, And when it fell, there all was cleaved in twain; No coat of mail such strokes as his could stay, Nor either did he stop to ascertain If all the blood that trickled down each limb Was but that of the foe and not his
own. And thus he fought, until the day grew dim, And thus he fought, and thus he stood alone Against them all; till one by one they fell, As doth the corn before the reaper's scythe, Whilst their own curses were their only knell! The Serb, howe'er, was still both strong and lithe, When all the swarthy Arabs round him lay. "Now 'tis thy time to die, miscreant knight!" He called unto the Moor of Primorye. With golden daggers they began to fight; They thrust and parried both with might and main; But soon the Arab sank to writhe in pain. Then Marko forthwith over him did bend To stab him through the heart. Then off he took His head, on which he threw a light cymar (For 'twas, indeed, a sight that few could brook): Thus covered up, he took it to the Czar. Then Marko got the Princess for his wife-- Besides the gold that was to be his meed, And from that day most happy was his life, Known far and wide for many a knightly deed.

  The merry evening came to an end; in the meanwhile the weather hadundergone another transformation. The cold having set in, the thinsleet had all at once changed into snow. The tiny patches of ice andthe little droplets of rain had swelled out into large fleecy flakes,which kept fluttering about hither and thither, helter-skelter,before they came down to the ground; they seemed, indeed, to bechasing one another all the time, with the grace of springbutterflies. Even when the flakes did fall it was not always forlong, for the wind, creeping slily along the earth, often lifted themup and drove them far away, whirling them into eddies, till at lastthey were allowed to settle down in heaps, blocking up doors andwindows; or else, flying away, they ensconced themselves in everynook and corner, in every chink and cranny.

  That evening, when the good Christians went to church to hear theoft-repeated tidings of great joy, uttered by the _vladika_, orpriest, in the sacramental words: _Mir Bogig, Christos se rode_, or"The peace of God be with you, Christ is born"; and when, aftermidnight, they returned home, while huge logs were blazing on everyhearth, they hardly knew again either the town or its neighbourhood,all wrapped up in a mantle of dazzling whiteness; the sight was arather unusual one, for the inhabitants of Budua had seen snow butvery seldom.

  The whole Christmas Day was spent very pleasantly in going about fromhouse to house, wishing everyone joy and happiness, or receivingfriends at home and drinking bumpers to their health. It was, indeed,a merry, forgiving time, when the hearts of men were full ofkindness and good-will, and peace reigned upon earth.

  There were, indeed, some exceptions to the general rule ofbenevolence, for, now and then, some man, even upon that hallowedday, bore within his breast but a clay-cold heart, in which grudge,envy and malice still rankled, and the Christmas greetings, wheezedthrough thin lips, had but a chilling and hollow sound.

  The very first person who came to Bellacic's house early on Christmasmorning was Vranic, the spy. It was not out of love that he came. Hehad been sneaking about the house, casting long, prying glances frombeneath the hood of his _kabanica_, or great-coat, trying to find outwhether Milena were there, for he knew that she had not passed thenight in her own house.

  All at once, whilst he was sneaking about, he was met by severalyoung men, bent on their Christmas rounds of visits; they took himalong with them, and, though quite against himself, he was the firstto put his foot in Bellacic's house upon that day.

  According to the Slav custom, he was asked, after the usualgreetings, to tap the yule log with his stick. He at once complied,with as much good grace as he could muster, uttering the well-knownphrase:

  "May you have as many horses, cows, and sheep as the _badnjak_ hasgiven you sparks."

  Knowing that while he was saying these words every member of thefamily, and every guest gathered together around him, would hang uponhis looks, trying to read in his face whether the forthcoming yearwould be a prosperous one, for the expression of the features, aswell as the way in which these words are uttered, are reckoned to besure omens, Vranic, therefore, tried to put on a pleasant look and agood-natured appearance, but this was so alien to his nature that hewas by no means sure of success.

  Uros and Milena had, however, stood aloof; they had understood thatthe prediction must be unfavourable, and, though they did not lookup, they heard that the voice, which was meant to be soft and oily,was bitter, hard and grating.

  A gloom had come over the house just then; it seemed as if that manof ill-omen had stepped in to damp everyone's joy.

  Uros remained stock-still, and though his fingers instinctivelygrasped the handle of his knife, still he was too much of a Slav toharm a guest in his own house. As for Milenko, not having any reasonsfor being so forbearing, he was about to thrust the fiend out of hisadopted parents' house, when Vranic, drawing back from the hearth,caught his foot on the fag end of a log, and, not to fall, steppedover it. This was the remainder of that log which Uros had himselfput upon the fire, and, according to the traditional custom, it hadbeen taken away from the hearth before it had been quite consumed,for it was to be kept, as the fire on New Year's Eve was to bekindled with it. Vranic hardly noticed what he had done, but everyonepresent looked stealthily at one another, and quietly crossedthemselves. Vranic, they knew, had come with evil thoughts in hishead, but now he had only brought harm upon himself, for it is wellknown that whoever steps over a _badnjak_ is doomed to die within theyear.

  The seer went off soon after this, and then, when the otherwell-wishers came, the gloom that he had left behind him wasdispelled, and the remainder of the Christmas Day was spent in mirthand jollity.