ied, banging the table
as he shot a look of fierce accusation at his old father. He, he alone,
was to blame for everything going wrong. What other reason could there
be for Martin no longer feeling happy at Starydwor? There was no doubt
[Pg 249] about it; the old man, who was always drunk now, had grown
very objectionable. "Stop with us, do stop," he said, returning to the
charge, and cordially stretching his hand out to his friend. "I promise
we'll alter what you don't like."

Mrs. Tiralla gave a start; now his own son had even said it. "We'll
alter what you don't like." She gave Mikolai a significant look and
tried to catch his foot under the table; let him urge Martin as much as
possible.

So Mikolai, who suddenly thought with dread of having to work all alone
at Starydwor, had recourse to begging. Had they not sworn to be like
brothers, and not to leave each other if they could be of any use?
Could Martin not see that it would be hard work, much too hard work for
him quite alone here? "Father's health is failing," he said; "how long
will he last?" He cast a half contemptuous, half sad look at the man
sitting there so dead to everything; it was hard to see his father like
that. "Martin, brother! And I had hoped that we two should always
remain together, and that you would marry my Rosa!" he exclaimed in
quite a mournful voice.

At that moment Martin, who had listened to it all in silence with his
eyes persistently lowered, jumped up so vehemently that he upset his
chair. "No, no!" he cried, turning quite white.

Mrs. Tiralla, too, grew as pale as death. They glanced at each other
for a moment, almost timidly.

"Let me go," begged the young man. Then his voice grew more energetic.
"I must go. I----"

He stopped; Rosa, who had been sitting quietly at the table, so quietly
that they had scarcely noticed her, suddenly got up and fled out of the
room. Martin thought he could see that her face was suffused with a [Pg
250] deep blush and that she was fighting with her tears. He felt so
sorry for her, she was a good girl! But it was better she should think
he did not care for her. It would not do--no, it would never do.

He gathered himself together once more, and said in a firm voice, "I'm
going. When the first snow falls, we shall have finished the autumn
sowing, and until then I'll work like two for you. You shall have
nothing to complain of, Mikolai. But I must go. The first of January is
the time in this part o