King Stakh's Wild Hunt

“Miss Janoŭskaja's great-grandfather had 10,000 dziesiacinas[4] of good arable land, without including the forest. Miss Janoŭskaja, as you probably know, most respected Mr. Stachoŭski, has 50 dziesiacinas of arable land, considerably impoverished. She has also the park which doesn't give any returns, and the virgin forest, which is also effectively an entailed estate, as it is a Forest Reservation. Frankly speaking, this rule could be waived. However, firstly, access for the wood-cutter to the virgin forest is impossible because of the quagmire. And secondly, would it be wise? Nadzieja may have children. What could they do with 50 dziesiacinas of poor land? Then the family will come to a complete downfall. Of course, the young lady is now grown-up, she can decide for herself…”

“I quite agree with you, Uncle,” Janoŭskaja said, blushing and almost in tears. “Let the virgin forest stand. I'm glad that one can get to it only by small paths, and at that only in dry weather. A pity to destroy such a dense forest. Virgin forests are God's gardens.”

“That's right,” continued her guardian, “besides, almost the entire Janoŭski region is but a quagmire, a peat-bog and waste land on which nothing besides heather can grow. No one has ever lived on this land, as long as man can remember. And that means that we take only the 50 dziesiacinas which are rented out for half the crop. The land isn't fertilized, only rye is planted on it, and it gives 330, at the most 40 puds[5] per dziesiacina, which means that a dziesiacina gives an income of 10 roubles a year, and thus, from all the land, 500 roubles annually. And that is all. This money is not withheld, you can believe me, Mr. Stachoŭski.”

I shook my head. The landlady of a large estate had a monthly income of a little over 200 roubles. While an average official received 125 roubles. Janoŭskaja had a place to live in and food to eat, nevertheless it was undisguised need, a need without a ray of hope. I, a learned man and a journalist, the author of four books, received 400 roubles monthly. And I didn't have to put it all into this hole — the castle, to make presents to the servants, to keep the park in relative order. I was Croesus in comparison with her.

I felt sorry for her, this child, on whose shoulders had fallen such an overwhelming load.

“You are rather poor,” Dubatoŭk said sadly. “As a matter of fact, after all the necessary expenses, you have only kopecks left on hand.”

And he glanced in my direction very expressively and meaningfully, but my face, I dare say, expressed nothing. Indeed, how could it concern me in any way?

The papers were handed over to the new owner. Dubatoŭk promised to give his personal orders to Bierman, then he kissed Janoŭskaja on her forehead, and left the room. The rest of us also returned to the dancing-hall where the people had had time enough to tire of dancing. Dubatoŭk again called forth an outburst of merriment.

There was some kind of a local dance that I did not know, and therefore Varona immediately carried off Nadzieja. Then she disappeared somewhere. I was watching the dancing, when suddenly I felt someone looking at me. Not far from rne stood a thin, but evidently strong young man, with a frank face, modestly dressed, although the accentuated stress laid on its.tidiness was quite apparent.

I had not seen him appear, but I liked him at first sight. I even liked the soft ascetism of his large mouth and clever brown hazel eyes. I smiled at him and he, as if that was what he had been waiting for, stepping lightly, walked over in my direction with outstretched hand.

“I beg your pardon for this informality, Andrej Śvieciłovič. It's been an old wish of mine to make your acquaintance. I'm a former student of the Kiev University. I was expelled for my participation in student disturbances.”

I, too, introduced myself. He smiled a broad Belarusian smile, such a kind and frank smile that his face immediately became beautiful.

“You know, I've read your collections. Don't consider it a compliment. I'm in general not fond of that, but after reading them I felt inexplicably drawn to you. You are doing something useful and necessary, and you understand your tasks. I judge that from your prefaces.”

A conversation between us got under way and we walked over to a window in a far corner of the room. I asked him how he happened to be in Marsh Firs. He began to laugh:

“I'm a distant relative of Nadzieja Janoŭskaja. A very distant one. As a matter of fact, we two, she and I, are the only ones left now, and I am from a female line of the family. It seems that some drop of blood of the former Deinowsky princes still flows in the veins of Haraburda, but his kinship, as well as that of the Hryckievičes, not a single expert in heraldry could prove. It is simply a family tradition. In any case Nadzieja is the only real Janoŭskaja.”

His face softened, became thoughtful.