CHAPTER II


It was April. After their dinner Slimak's household dispersed to their
different occupations. The gospodyni, tying a red handkerchief round
her head and a white linen one round her neck, ran down to the river.
Stasiek followed her, looking at the clouds and observing to himself
that they were different every day. Magda busied herself washing up the
dinner things, singing 'Oh, da, da', louder and louder in proportion as
the mistress went farther away. Jendrek began pushing Magda about,
pulling the dog's tail and whistling penetratingly; finally he ran out
with a spade into the orchard. Slimak sat by the stove. He was a man of
medium height with a broad chest and powerful shoulders. He had a calm
face, short moustache, and thick straight hair falling abundantly over
his forehead and on to his neck. A red-glass stud set in brass shone in
his sacking shirt. He rested the elbow of his left arm on his right
fist and smoked a pipe, but when his eyes closed and his head fell too
far forward, he righted himself and rested his right elbow on his left
fist. He puffed out the grey smoke and dozed alternately, spitting now
and then into the middle of the room or shifting his hands. When the
pipestem began to twitter like a young sparrow, he knocked the bowl a
few times against the bench, emptied the ashes, and poked his finger
down. Yawning, he got up and laid the pipe on the shelf.

He glanced under his brows at Magda and shrugged his shoulders. The
liveliness of the girl who skipped about while she was washing her
dishes, roused a contemptuous compassion in him. He knew well what it
felt like to have no desire for skipping about, and how great the
weight of a man's head, hands, and feet can be when he has been hard at
work.