t about
it, the master was enchanted; the big, stout man had been bewitched by
that little woman, that lean goat. She was a "mora," who could change
herself into a cat, or into one of those creatures that fly down the
chimney on a broomstick. [Pg 11] The priest ought to know it; he would
soon put a spoke into her wheel. But there was a better plan than that.
She, Marianna, would take the matter into her own hands, then she alone
would earn the gratitude of Pan Tiralla. She would take the tip of her
shift and rub the bewitched man's forehead with it three times, and
then the spell would leave him. And who knows what then might happen?
Perhaps he might turn the woman out of the house then, as she was so
horrid to him, and always slept in another room, and banged the door in
his face. Wasn't he as strong as an ox? Wasn't he rather a fine-looking
man? Even if his hair were bristly and already grey, and his eyes
rather watery, he was still a man for all that. And he had money--oh,
such a lot. The servant's heart beat more rapidly when she thought of
it. All the shops in Gradewitz could be bought up with it, and those in
Gnesen as well, and--who knows?--perhaps even those in Posen. What a
pity it was that this woman, this witch, would some day get all that
money. The maid cast a sidelong look at her mistress, which made her
pretty but coarse face positively ugly.

Mrs. Sophia Tiralla stood weeping. Her shoulders drooped so dejectedly,
and her head was bent so low, that you would have thought all the cares
of the world were weighing her down. Her husband had given up his
useless attempts to approach her, he stood as if rooted to the spot,
and his pale blue, sleepy eyes wandered from the woman to the maid, and
then from the maid to the woman in perplexed surprise.

"If only I knew what was the matter, darling," he said at last in a
dispirited voice. "Good heavens! what flea has bitten you?"

The servant burst into a loud guffaw. How very comical it sounded. She
couldn't compose herself [Pg 12] again, it really was too funny. A
flea.--ha-ha, a flea! She thrust her fist into her mouth and bit it, so
as to suppress her laughter.

Her mistress cast her an angry look. "How dare you? Go to your work.
_Dalej_, _dalej._"

The maid grew frightened. Ugh, how furious her mistress looked! Her
glance was as cold as steel. "Let that wicked look fall on the dog!"
she murmured, protecting her face with her arm. And then the thought
came