tiful than any of the girls [Pg 238]
he had ever seen in his life. How white her neck looked just where her
dress was cut out a little. He could not control himself any longer, he
had to kiss it. But she crossed her hands over her white throat and
blushed as she whispered, "Not like that, not like that." But when she
again and again felt the pressure of his hot lips she could not
restrain herself any longer, and clasping him to her bosom with both
arms, she cried in a loud, jubilant voice, that echoed through the dark
fields, "All the saints be praised. I love you, I love you!"

[Pg 239]

CHAPTER XI

The Paninka at Starydwor had visions again. Marianna spoke of it in the
village, and when she met Jendrek, who was at Mr. Jokisch's, she
complained to him of having to sleep in the same room as the girl. It
was very unpleasant, and she would rather sleep on the straw in the
stables, or anywhere, than be with somebody who talked all night long
as if it were daytime, and who carried on a conversation with the Lord
as though He were a bridegroom whom she was wooing. Mr. Tiralla had
better look round for an earthly bridegroom for his daughter, or give
her at once to the heavenly one, so that the dear soul might get peace
and not toss about and frighten others with her strange goings-on.

Marianna had also complained of it to Mrs. Tiralla, but she had
shrugged her shoulders. Everybody knew that the girl was often very
excited. It was on account of her age, and it would be all right in
time.

Mrs. Tiralla had not time to think of her daughter at present, for all
her thoughts were centred in Martin Becker. The summer was far gone and
autumn was approaching, and she sometimes had a feeling as though the
man she loved would depart with the swallows. And if that were his
intention, then, then----An icy dread made her shiver.

Mr. Tiralla did nothing now but vegetate, sleep and drink, drink and
sleep. He grew more and more dull-witted [Pg 240] every day, shunned
everybody, sat brooding for hours together with his glass in front of
him, now and then had fits in which he would suddenly bellow like an ox
that the butcher has just given a blow between the eyes with his axe,
then fall down like the ox, clench his fists in rage or agony, foaming
at the mouth, and with a rattling noise in his throat, roll his eyes,
hit about him like a madman, and at last fall into a deep sleep,
dead-tired. He ha