The Pobratim: A Slav Novel, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  THE BOND OF FRIENDSHIP

  "Milenko," said Uros, "have you the least idea how people that are inlove feel?"

  Milenko arched his eyebrows and smiled.

  "No, not exactly, for I've never been spoony myself." Then, afterpondering for a moment, he added: "I should think it's like beingslightly sea-sick; don't you?"

  Uros looked amused. He thought over the simile for a while, thensaid:

  "Well, perhaps you are not quite wrong."

  "But why do you ask? You are surely not in love, are you?"

  Uros sighed. "Well, that's what I don't exactly know; only I feeljust a trifle squeamish. I'm upset; my head is muddled."

  "And you are afraid it's love?"

  Uros made a sign of assent.

  "It's not nice, is it?"

  "No."

  "And you'd like to get out of it?" asked Milenko.

  "Yes."

  "Well, then, take a deep plunge. Make love to her heart and soul, asif you were going to marry her to-morrow. Then, I daresay, you'llsoon get over it. You see, the worst thing with sea-sickness is tomope, to nurse yourself, and fancy every now and then that you aregoing to throw up. It's better to be sick like a dog for a day ortwo, as we were, and then it's all over. I think it must be the samething with love."

  "I daresay you are right, but----"

  "But what?"

  "I can't follow your advice."

  "Why not?"

  "Because--because----" and thereupon he began to scratch his head. "Ican't make love to her."

  "Can't make love to a girl?"

  "No; for, you see, she's not a girl."

  Milenko opened his eyes and stared.

  "Who is she?" he asked.

  Uros looked gloomy. He hesitated for an instant; then he whispered:

  "Milena!"

  Milenko started back.

  "Not Milena Radonic?"

  Uros nodded gravely.

  "You are right," said Milenko seriously; "you can't make love to amarried woman. It's a crime, first of all; then you might get herinto trouble, and find yourself some day or other in a mess."

  "You are right."

  The two friends were silent for a moment; then Milenko, thinking tohave caught the dilemma by its horns, said:

  "Wouldn't it be the same thing if you made love to some other prettydamsel?"

  Uros shook his head doubtfully.

  "Darinka, our neighbour Ivo's daughter, is a very nice girl."

  "Very."

  "Well, don't you think you might fall in love with her?" askedMilenko, coaxingly.

  "No, I don't think I could."

  "Then there is Liepa, for instance; she is as lovely as her name;moreover, I think she looks a little like Milena."

  "No; no woman has such beautiful eyes. Why, the first time I sawMilena, I felt her glances scorching me; they sank into my flesh,"and he heaved a deep sigh.

  There was another pause; both the friends were musing.

  "Well, then, I'll tell you what," said Milenko, after a while; "we'lljust go off to sea again. It's a pity, but it can't be helped."

  "And the harvest?"

  "They'll have to manage without us; that's all."

  After having discussed the subject over and over again, it was agreedthat they were to sail as soon as they could find a decent vesselthat could take them both. In the meanwhile, Uros promised to avoidMilena as much as possible, which was, indeed, no easy matter.

  The day of Milena Zwillievic's marriage had, indeed, been a BlackFriday to her. First, she knew that she was being sold to pay herfather's debts; secondly, Radonic was old enough to be her father.Added to all this, he was a heavy, rough, uncouth kind of a fellow,the terror of all seamen, and, as he treated his crew as if they hadbeen slaves, no man ever sailed with him if he could possibly getanother berth.

  Two or three days after the wedding, Radonic brought his girlishbride to live with his mother, the veriest old shrewish skinflintthat could be imagined. She disliked her daughter-in-law before sheknew her; she hated her the first moment she saw her. Milena washandsome and penniless, two heinous sins in her eyes, for she herselfhad been ugly and rich. She could not forgive her son for havingmade such a silly marriage at his age, and not a day passed withouther telling him that he was an old fool.

  During the first months poor Milena was to be pitied, and, what wasworse, everybody pitied her. She never ate a morsel of bread withouthearing her mother-in-law's taunts. If she cried, she was bullied bythe one, cuffed by the other.

  A month after the wedding, Radonic, however, went off with his ship,and shortly afterwards his vixen of a mother died, and Milena wasthen left sole mistress of the house. Her life, though lonesome, wasno more a burden to her, as it had hitherto been, only, havingnothing to do the whole day, time lay heavy on her hands.

  Handsome and young as she was, with a slight inborn tendency toflirtation; living, moreover, quite alone; many a young man had triedto make love to her; but, their intentions being too manifest, all,hitherto, had been repulsed. On seeing Uros, however, she felt forhim what she had, as yet, never felt for any man, for her husbandless than anybody else.

  She tried not to think of Uros, and the more she tried the more hisimage was before her eyes; so the whole of the live-long day she didnothing else but think of him. She decided to avoid him, and still--perhaps it was the devil that tempted her, but, somehow or other,she herself could not explain how it happened--she was always eitherat the door or at the window at the time he passed, and then whatcould she do but nod in a friendly way to him?

  If she went to pay his mother a visit, she would hurry away before hecame home, and then she was always unlucky enough to meet him on herway. Could she do less than stop and ask him how he was; besides,after all, he was but a boy, and she was a married woman.

  Soon she began to surmise that Uros was in love with her; then shethought herself foolish to believe such a thing, and she ratedherself for being vain. And then, again, she thought: "If he caresfor me more than he ought, it is but a foolish infatuation, of whichhe will soon get rid when he goes again to sea." Thereupon she heaveda deep sigh, and a heaviness came over her heart, at which she almostconfessed to herself that she did love that boy.

  Milena, after the conversation Uros had had with his friend, seeingherself shunned, felt nettled and sorry. At the same time she wasglad to see that he did not care for her, and then her heart yearnedall the more for him.

  But if he shunned her, was it a sign that he did not care for her?she asked herself.

  Puzzled, as she was, she wanted to find out the truth, merely out ofcuriosity, and nothing more.

  Thus it came to pass that, standing one day on her doorstep, shebeckoned to the young man, as soon as she saw him, to come up toher. It was a bold thing to do, nor did she do so without a certaintrepidation.

  "Uros," said she to him, "come here; I have something to ask you."

  "What is it?" said the young man, looking down rather shyly.

  "You that have travelled far and wide, can you tell me who speaks allthe languages of this world?"

  "Who speaks all the languages of this world?" echoed Uros, lifting uphis eyes, astonished, and then lowering them, feeling Milena'sglances parch up his blood.

  "Who can it be?" said he, puzzled.

  He tried to think, but his poor head was muddled, and his heart wasbeating just as if it would burst. He had never been good atguessing, but now it was worse than ever.

  "I've heard of people speaking three, four, and five languages, butI've never heard of anyone speaking more than five."

  "What! You've been in foreign countries," quoth she, smiling archly,and displaying her pearly teeth, "and still you cannot answer myquestion?"

  "I cannot, indeed. There was a man who said he spoke twenty-fivelanguages, but, of course, he was a humbug. First, there are nottwenty-five languages in the world, and then he couldn't even speakSlav."

  "Well, well; think over it till to-m
orrow."

  "And then?"

  "Perhaps you'll be able to guess."

  "But if I don't?"

  "Well, I shall not eat you up as the dragon, that Marko Kraglievickilled, used to do, if people couldn't answer the questions he putthem."

  "And you'll tell me?" Thereupon he lifted up his eyes yearninglytowards her.

  "Perhaps," she replied, blushing, "but then, you must promise not toask Milenko."

  "I promise."

  She stretched forth her hand. He pressed it lingeringly.

  "Nor anybody else?"

  "No."

  "Then I'll tell you to-morrow."

  He bade her good-bye, and went off with a heavy heart; she saw himdisappear with a sigh.

  That whole day Uros thought a little of the riddle, and a great dealof Milena's sparkling eyes; moreover, he felt the pressure of hersoft hand upon his palm. But the more he pondered over her question,the more confused his brain grew, so he gave up thinking of theriddle, and continued thinking of the young woman. On the morrow hisexcitement increased, as the time of hearing the answer drew near.

  Milena, as usual, was on the watch for him, leaning on the door-post,looking more beautiful than ever. As soon as he saw her, he hurriedup to her without being called.

  "Well," said she, with a nervous smile, "have you guessed?"

  "No."

  "Oh, you silly fellow! Who speaks all the languages of the world?"

  "It's useless to ask me; I don't know."

  "What will you give me if I tell you?" said she, in a low,fluttering voice, and with a visible effort.

  He would willingly have made her a present, but he did not know whatshe would like, and, as he looked up into her eyes to guess, he felthis blood rising all up to his head.

  "Do you want me to bring you something from abroad--a looking-glassfrom Venice, or a coral necklace from Naples?"

  No, she did not want anything from abroad.

  "Then a silk scarf?"

  "No, I was only joking. I'll tell you for nothing. Why, who but theecho speaks all the languages of this world?"

  "Dear me, how stupid not to have thought of it. Tell me, do you thinkme very stupid?"

  Milena smiled. She did think him rather dull, but not in the way hemeant.

  "You see how good I am. I tell you for nothing. Now, if you had putme a riddle, and I could not have answered, you surely would haveasked"--here there was a catch in her voice--"a kiss from me."

  Uros blushed as red as a damask-rose; he tried to speak, but did notknow what to say.

  "Oh! don't say no; you men are all alike."

  The young man looked up at her with an entreating look, then downagain; still he did not speak. Milena remained silent, as if waitingfor an answer; she fidgeted and twisted the fringe of her apron roundher fingers, then she heaved a deep sigh. After a few minutes' pause:

  "Do you know any riddles?" she asked.

  "Oh, yes! I know several."

  "Well, then, tell me one."

  Uros thought for a while; he would have liked to ask her a verydifficult one, but the thought of the kiss he might have for it, gavehim a strong nervous pain at the back of his head.

  "Well," said he, after a few moments' cogitation--"Who turns out ofhis house every day, and never leaves his house?"

  She looked at him for a while with parted lips and eyes all beamingwith smiles; nay, there was mischief lurking in her very dimples asshe said:

  "Why, the snail, you silly boy; everybody knows that hackneyedriddle." Then with the prettiest little _moue_: "It was not worthwhile leaving your country to come back with such a slight stock ofknowledge. I hope you were not expecting a kiss for the answer?"

  Uros was rather nettled by her teazing; he would fain have given hera smart answer, but he could find none on the spur of the moment.Besides, the sight of those two lips, as fresh and as juicy as thepulp of a blood-red cherry, made him lose the little wit he otherwisemight have had; so he replied:

  "And if I had?"

  "You would have been disappointed; I don't give kisses for nothing."

  "But you do give kisses?" he asked, faltering.

  "When they are worth giving," in an undertone.

  Uros looked up shyly, then he began to scratch his head, and tried tothink of something tremendously difficult.

  "Well, do you know that one and no other?" she asked, laughing.

  All at once Uros' face brightened up.

  "What is it that makes men bald?" and he looked up at herenquiringly.

  Had he had a little more guile, he might, perhaps, have seen thatthis riddle of his was likewise not quite unknown to her; but he sawnothing save her pomegranate lips.

  "Oh," said Milena, "their naughtiness, I daresay!"

  "No, that's not it."

  "Then, I suppose, it's their wit."

  "Why?"

  "They say that women have long hair and little wit, so I imagine thatmen have little hair and much wit."

  "If that's the case, then, I've too much hair. But you haven'tguessed."

  "Then come to-morrow, and, perhaps I'll be able to tell you."

  "But you'll not ask anybody?"

  She again stretched out her hand to him. As he kept squeezing andpatting her hand:

  "Shall I tell you?" he asked, with almost hungry eyes.

  "And exact the penalty?"

  Uros smiled faintly.

  "Now, that is not fair; I gave you a whole day to think over it."

  "Well, I'll wait till to-morrow; only----"

  "Only, what?"

  "Don't try to guess."

  He said this below his breath, as if frightened at his own boldness.

  On the morrow he again waited impatiently for the moment to come whenhe could go and see Milena. The hour arrived; Uros passed andrepassed by the house, but she was not to be seen. He durst not goand knock at her door--nay, he was almost glad that she did notexpect him; it was much better so.

  He little knew that he was being closely watched by her, through oneof the crannies in the window-shutters. When, at last, he was aboutto go off, Milena appeared on the threshold. With a beating heart theyouth turned round on his heels and went up to her. With muchtrepidation he looked up into her face.

  "Does she, or does she not, know?" he kept asking himself; "and ifshe does, am I to ask her for a kiss?" At that moment he almostwished she had guessed the riddle, for he remembered his friend'swords: "It was a crime to make love to a married woman."

  "Oh, Uros, I'm like you! I can't guess. I've tried and tried, butit's useless."

  There was a want of sincerity in the tone of her voice, that made itsound affected, and she was speaking as quickly as possible to bringout everything at a gush. After a slight interruption, she went on:

  "Do tell me quickly, I'm so curious to know. What is it that makesmen bald?"

  "It's strange that you can't guess, you that are so very clever," hesaid, in a faltering voice.

  "What, you don't believe me?" she asked, pouting her lips in a pretty,babyish fashion.

  Uros stood looking at her without answering; in his nervousness hewas quivering from head to foot, undecided whether he was to kiss heror not.

  "Oh, I see, you don't want to tell me; you are afraid I'll not keepmy promise!"

  "I can ask to be paid beforehand; give me a kiss first, and I'll tellyou afterwards."

  Having got it out he heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he was glad itwas over.

  "Here, in the street?" she asked, with a forced smile.

  He advanced up to her and she retreated into the house. He wasobliged to follow her now, almost in spite of himself; moreover, hecould hardly drag himself after her, for he had, all at once, got tobe as heavy as lead.

  As soon as they were both within the house, she closed the door, andleant her back against it. Then there was an awkward pause of someminutes, for neither of them knew what to do, or what to say. Shetook courage, however, and looking at him lovingly:

  "Now tell me, wil
l you?" said she.

  As she uttered these words they clasped each other's hands, whilsttheir eyes uttered what their lips durst not express; then, as Urosstood there in front of Milena, he felt as if she was drawing him on,and the walls of the room began to spin round and round.

  "Why, it is the loss of hair that makes people bald," he muttered ina hot, feverish whisper, the panting tone of which evidently meant--

  "Milena, I love you; have pity on me."

  She said something about being very stupid, but he could not quiteunderstand what it was; he only felt the swaying motion and thepowerful attraction she had over him.

  "I suppose you must have your reward now," she said, with a faintvoice.

  The youth felt his face all aglow; the blood was rushing from hisheart to his head with a whirring sound. His dizziness increased.

  Did she put out her lips towards his as she said this? He couldhardly remember. All that remained clear to him afterwards was, thathe had clasped her in his arms, and strained her to his chest withall the might of his muscles. Had he stood there with his lipspressed upon hers for a very long time? He really did not know; itmight have been moments, it might have been hours, for he had lostall idea as to the duration of time.

  From that day, Uros was always hovering in the neighbourhood ofRadonic's house; he was to be found lurking thereabout morning, noonand night. Milenko took him to task about it, but he soon found outthat if "hunger has no eyes," lovers, likewise, have no ears, andalso that "he who holds his tongue often teaches best." As for Uros,his friend's reproaches were not half so keen as those he made tohimself; but love had a thousand sophistries to still the voice ofconscience.

  Not long after the eventful day of the riddle, Marko Radonic returnedunexpectedly to Budua, his ship having to undergo some slightrepairs.

  For a few days, Milenko managed to keep Uros and Milena apart, but,young as they were, love soon prevailed over prudence. They thereforebegan to meet in by-lanes and out-of-the-way places, especiallyduring those hours when the husband was busy at the building yard. Atfirst they were very careful, but the reiteration of the same actrendered them more heedless.

  Uros was seen again and again at Milena's door when the husband wasnot at home. People began to suspect, to talk; the subject waswhispered mysteriously from ear to ear; it soon spread about the townlike wild-fire.

  A month after Radonic had returned, he was one evening at the inn,drinking and chatting with some old cronies about ships, cargoes andfreights. In the midst of the conversation, an old _guzlar_ passingthereby, stepped in to have a draught of wine. Upon seeing the bard,every man rose and, by way of greeting, offered him his glass to havea sip.

  "Give us a song, Vuk; it is years since I heard the sound of yourvoice," said Radonic.

  The bard complied willingly; he went up to a _guzla_ hanging on thewall, and took it down. He then sat on a stool, placed his instrumentbetween his legs, and began to scrape its single gut-string with themonochord bow; this prelude served to give an intonation to hisvoice, and scan the verses he was about to sing. He thought a while,and then--his face brightening up--he commenced the ballad of "MarkoKraglievic and Janko of Sebinje."

  We Slavs are so fond of music and poetry, that we will remain forhours listening to one of our bards, forgetting even hunger in ourdelight. No sooner was the shrill sound of Vuk's voice heard thanevery noise was hushed, hardly a man lifted his glass up to hismouth. Even the passers-by walked softly or lingered about the doorto catch some snatches of the poet's song.

  The ballad, however, was a short one, and as soon as the bard hadfinished, the strong Dalmatian wine went round again, and at everycup the company waxed merrier, more tender-hearted, more gushing; afew even grew sentimental and lachrymose.

  Wine, however, brought out all the harshness of Radonic's character,and the more he drank the more brutal he grew; at such moments itseemed as if all the world was his crew, and that he had a right tobully even his betters, and say disagreeable things to everybody; hisexcuse was that he couldn't help it--it was stronger than himself.

  "_Bogme!_" he exclaimed, turning to one of his friends; "I shouldhave liked to see your wife, Tripko, with Marko Kraglievic. Ah, poorTripko!"

  "Why my wife more than yours?"

  "Oh, my wife knows of what wood my stick is made; you only tickleyours!"

  Tripko shrugged his shoulders, and added:

  "Every woman is not as sharp as Janko of Sebinje's wife, but most ofthem are as honest."

  "That means to say that you think your wife is honest," said Radonic,chuckling. "Poor Tripko!"

  "Come, come," quoth a friend, trying to mend matters, "do not spit inthe air, Radonic Marko, lest the spittle fall back on your face."

  "What do you mean by that?" asked Radonic, who, like all jokers,could never take a jest himself.

  "I? nothing; only I advise you to be more careful how you trifle withanother man's wife--that's a ticklish subject."

  "Oh, Tripko's wife!" said he, disparagingly.

  "Radonic Marko, sweep before your own door, _bogati_!" repliedTripko, scornfully.

  "Sweep before my door--sweep before my door, did you say?" and hesnatched up the earthen mug to hurl it at his friend's head, but theby-standers pinioned his arm.

  "I did, and I repeat it, _bogati_!"

  "And you mean that there's dirt before my house?" asked Radonic,scowling.

  "More than before mine, surely."

  "Come, Tripko, are you going to quarrel about a joke?" said one ofhis friends.

  "My wife is no joking matter."

  "No, no," continued Radonic, "but he who has the itch scratcheshimself."

  "Then scratch yourself, Marko, for surely you must itch when you'renot at home."

  "Hum!" said the host, "when asses joke it surely rains."

  Then he went up to the _guzlar_, and begged him to give them a song."Let it be something lively and merry," said he, "something they canall join in."

  The bard thereupon scraped his _guzla_, silence was re-established,and he began to sing the following _zdravica_:

  "Wine that bubbles says to man: Drink, oh! drink me when you can; For I never pass away, You albeit last but a day; I am therefore made for you, And I love men brave and true; Then remember, I am thine; Drink, oh! drink the flowing wine!"

  As not one of them cared to see the quarrel continue, and end,perhaps, in bloodshed, they all began to sing the drinking-song; thewine flowed, the glasses jingled together in a friendly way, and, forthe nonce, peace prevailed.

  Just then, Milenko--unperceived by everybody except the landlord--happened to come in, and the host, taking him aside, said to him:

  "Markovic Milenko, tell your friend, Uros, not to be seen foolingabout with Milena, for people have long tongues, and will talk; and,above all, do not let him be found lurking near Radonic's houseto-night, for it might cost him his life."

  "What! has anybody been slandering him?"

  "Slandering is not the word; enough, tell him that Radonic Marko isnot a man to be trifled with."

  Milenko thanked the innkeeper, and, fearing lest his friend might begetting into mischief, went at once in search of him.

  As Radonic was about to begin the discussion again, the host stoppedhim.

  "You had better wait for an explanation till to-morrow, for when ourheads are fuddled we, like old Marija, do not see the things exactlyas they are.

  "What old Marija?" asked one of the men.

  "Don't you know the story of old Marija? Why, I thought everyone knewit."

  "No; let's hear it."

  Well, Marija was an old tippler, who was never known to be in hersenses.

  One morning she rose early, and, as usual, went into the wood togather a bundle of sticks. Presently she was seen running back as ifOld Nick was at her heels. Panting, and scared out of her wits, shedropped on a bench outside the inn. As soon as she could speak, shebegged for a little glass of brandy.

  The people crowded around her and asked
her what had happened.

  "No sooner had I left the roadside and got into the wood," she said,"I bent down to gather some sticks, when, lo and behold! fifty wildcats, as big as bears, with bristling hair, glaring eyes and sharpclaws, suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes. Holy Virgin! whata fright I got, and see how scratched and torn I was by thosebrutes."

  "Come, come, Marija," said the innkeeper; "you must have seendouble--you know you often do. How many cats were there?"

  "Well, I don't say there were exactly fifty, for I didn't count them;but as true as God is in heaven there were twenty-five."

  "Don't exaggerate, Marija--don't exaggerate; there are nottwenty-five cats in the whole village."

  "Well, if there were not twenty-five, may the devil take me; surelythere were fifteen?"

  "Pooh! Marija, have another little drop, just to get over yourfright, and then you'll confess that there were not fifteen."

  Marija drained down another glass, and said:

  "May a thunderbolt strike me dead this very moment but five wild catspounced upon me all at once."

  "Come, Marija, now that you are in your senses, don't exaggerate.Tell us how many wild cats there were."

  "Well, I'll take my oath that, as I bent down, a ray of sunlight waspouring through the branches, and I saw something tremendously bigmoving through the bushes; perhaps it was a cat."

  "Or a hare, running away," said the innkeeper.

  "Perhaps it was, for in my fright I instantly ran away too."

  The men, whom wine rendered merry, laughed heartily, and theinnkeeper added:

  "You see, we are all of us, at times, like old Marija."

  As they were about to part, Radonic asked the man who had told himnot to spit in the wind what he and all the others had meant by theirinnuendoes.

  "Oh, nothing at all! were you not joking yourself?"

  Still, by dint of much pressing, he got this man to tell him thatUros Bellacic, Milos' son, had been seen flirting with Milena. "Ofcourse, this Uros is only a boy; still," added he, "Milena herself isyoung, very young, and you--now, it is no use mincing the matter--well, you are old, and therefore I, as a friend, advise you to bemore careful how you talk about other men's wives, for, some day orother, you might find the laughers are against you."

  Thereupon the two men parted.

  Radonic now, for the first time in his life, understood what jealousywas. He felt, in fact, that he had touched hell, and that he had gotburnt. Alas! his countrymen were right in thinking that Gehenna couldnot be worse.

  As he walked on, the darkness of the night and his lonelinessincreased the bitterness of his thoughts. He that hitherto had felt apleasure in disparaging every woman, was getting to be thelaughing-stock of the town, the butt of every man's jokes.

  Meanwhile, Milenko had gone in quest of his friend, his mind full ofgloomy forebodings. Passing by Radonic's cottage, he stopped andlooked round. The night was dark, and everything had a weird andghastly look. The leaves shivered and lisped ominously. Was it a batthat flitted by him?

  Straining his eyes, he thought he saw something darker than the nightitself move near one of the windows of the house, then crouch downand disappear. Had his senses got so keen that he had seen thatshadow, or was it only a vision of his over-heated imagination?

  He walked a few steps onward; then he stopped, and began to whistlein a low, peculiar way. Their fathers had been wont to call eachother like that; and the two young men had sworn to each other thatwhatever happened to them in their lifetime they would always obeythe call of that whistle. All dangers were to be overcome, all feudsto be forgotten at that sound. They had sworn it on the image of St.George.

  Milenko knew that if his friend was thereabouts he would not tarry asingle moment to come to him. In fact, a moment afterwards Uros wasat his side.

  Milenko explained his errand in as few words as possible.

  "Thank you," said Uros. "I'll go and tell Milena what has happened,so that she may be on her guard."

  "But Radonic might be here at any moment."

  "I'll be back in a twinkling."

  "Anyhow, if you hear my whistle sneak off at once, and run for yourlife."

  "All right."

  Uros disappeared; Milenko remained leaning against the bole of atree. He could hardly be seen at the distance of some steps. Snatchesof songs were now heard from afar; it was the drinking-song Vuk hadbeen singing. The drunkards were returning home. Soon after this heheard the noise of steps coming on the road. Keeping a sharplook-out, his keen eyes recognised Radonic's stalwart though clumsyframe. He at once whistled to his friend, first in a low tone, thenlouder and louder, as he came out from his hiding-place and walked onto meet the enraged husband, and stop him on his way. Uros in themeanwhile took to his heels.

  "_Dobro vetchir_, Radonic Marko," said Milenko to him. "How are you?"

  "And who are you, so glib with your tongue?" answered Radonic, in asurly tone.

  "What, do you not know the children of the place?"

  "Children, nowadays, spring up like poisonous mushrooms after a wetnight. How is one to know them?"

  "Well, I am Milenko Markovic, Janko's son."

  "Ah, I thought so," replied Radonic fiercely, clasping the haft ofhis knife. "Then what business have you to come prowling about myhouse, making me the laughing-stock of the whole place. But you'llnot do so long."

  Suiting the action to the words, he lifted up his knife and made arush at the young man.

  Though Milenko was on his guard, and though the hand of thehalf-drunken man was not quite steady, still it was firm and swiftenough in its movements for mischief's sake; and so he not onlywounded the young man slightly on his arm, but, the knife beingvery sharp, it cut through all his clothes and scratched him, enoughto make him bleed, somewhere about the left breast. Had the blade butgone an inch or two deeper, death most likely would have beeninstantaneous.

  Milenko, quick as lightning, darted unexpectedly upon Radonic,grasped the knife from his hand, knocked him down, and, after alittle scuffle, held him fast. Although Marko was a powerfully-builtman, still he was heavy and clumsy, slow and awkward in hismovements; and now, half-drunk as he was, it seemed as if his hugebody was no match for this lithe and nimble youth.

  When at last Radonic was fully overpowered, "Look here," saidMilenko, "you fully deserve to have this blade thrust into yourheart, for it almost went into mine. Now, tell me, what have I donethat you should come against me in this murderous way? You say that Ihave been prowling about your house; but are you quite sure? And evenif I had, is it a reason to take away my life? Are you a beast or aman?"

  "Well, when you have done preaching, either let me go or kill me; butstop talking," said Radonic, sullenly.

  "I'll leave you as soon as I have done. First you must know that Ihave hardly ever spoken to your wife. May God strike me blind if Ihave! As for prowling about your house--well, half-an-hour ago I wasat the inn."

  "You were at the inn?" asked Radonic, incredulously.

  "Yes; you were all singing a _zdravica_."

  "I was singing?"

  "No; at least, I think not. You were, if I remember rightly, talkingwith Livic. I only looked in. Uros Bellacic, another poisonousmushroom, was with me."

  Just then it came to Radonic's head that this Uros, the son of Milos,was the young man who had been flirting with his wife.

  "So your friend Uros was with you?"

  "Of course he was, and from there I accompanied him to his house,where I left him. Now, I was going home, and the nearest way was byyour house. Had I, instead, been making love to your wife, I shouldnot have come up to you in a friendly way, as I did. I should havehidden behind some tree, or skulked away out of sight. Anyhow, yourwife is young and pretty; it is but right you should be jealous."

  Milenko thereupon stretched out his hand to help the prostrate man torise.

  The bully, thoroughly ashamed of himself, got up moodily enough,ruminating over all the young man had said, understanding, ho
wever,that he had been too rash, and had thus bungled the whole affair. Hemade up his mind, however, to keep a sharp look-out.

  "And now," continued Milenko, chuckling inwardly over his long-windedspeeches, made only to give his friend full time to be off, "as yourwife is perhaps in bed, let me come in and bandage up my arm, which isbleeding; it is useless for me to go home and waken up my father andmother, or frighten them for such a trifle. I might, it is true, goto Uros, but it is not worth while making an ado for a scratch likethis, and have the whole town gossiping about your wife, for who willbelieve that the whole affair is as absurd as it really is?"

  Radonic now felt sure that he had made a mistake, for, if this youthhad been trying to make love to Milena, he would not have asked to bebrought unexpectedly before the woman whose house he had just left.

  "Very well," replied he, gruffly, "come along."

  Having reached the cottage, he opened the door noiselessly, steppedin as lightly as he could, and beckoned to Milenko to follow him.

  Utter darkness reigned within the house. Radonic took out his flintand struck a light. He was glad to see that his wife was not only inbed, but fast asleep.

  He helped the young man to take off his clothes, all stained withblood; then he carefully washed his wounds, dressed them with somearomatic plants whose healing virtues were well known. After this hepoured out a bumper of wine and pledged Milenko's health, as a signof perfect reconciliation, saying:

  "I have shed your innocent blood; mine henceforth is at yourdisposal."

  With these words he took leave of him.

  Though it was late, Milenko, far from returning home, hastened to hisfriend to tell him what had happened, and put him on his guard fromattempting to see Milena again.

  His advice, though good, was, however, superfluous, for Milena, farfrom being asleep, had heard all that had taken place, and, as herhusband kept a strict watch over her, she remained indoors for severaldays.

  When the incident came to the ears of either parent--though theynever knew exactly the rights of the whole affair, and they onlythought that it was one of Radonic's mad freaks of jealousy--bothBellacic and Markovic thought it better to send their sons to sea assoon as possible.

  "Having sown their wild oats," said Milos, "they can come back homeand settle into the humdrum ways of married life."

  "Besides," quoth Janko, "in big waters are big fish caught. Theshipping trade is very prosperous just now; freights are high; soafter some years of a seafaring life they may put aside a good roundsum."

  "Well," replied Milos, "the best thing would be to set them up inlife; let us buy for them a share of some brig, and they, with theirearnings, may in a few years buy up the whole ship and trade forthemselves."

  The vintage--very plentiful that year--was now over; the olive-trees,which had been well whipped on St. Paul's Day, had yielded anunexpected crop, so that the land, to use the Biblical pithyexpression, was overflowing, if not with milk and honey, at leastwith wine and oil. The earth, having given forth its last fruits, wasnow resting from its labours, but the young men, though they hadnothing more to do on shore, still lingered at Budua, no share of anydecent vessel having been found for them.

  At last the captain of a brigantine, a certain Giuliani, wishing toretire from business in some years, agreed to take them on a trialtrip with him, and then, if he liked them and saw that they couldmanage the vessel by themselves, to sell them half of his shipafterwards.

  All the terms of the contract having been settled, it was agreed thatthe two young men should sail in about a fortnight's time, when thecargo had all been taken on board.

  Before starting, however, these youths, who loved each othertenderly, made up their minds to become kith-and-kin to each other--that is to say, brothers by adoption, or _pobratim_.

  As St. Nicholas--the patron saint of the opposite town of Bari, onthe Italian shores of the Adriatic--is one of the most revered saintsof the Slavs and the protector of sailors, his feast, which wascelebrated just a week before their departure, was chosen for the dayof this august ceremony.

  On the morning of that memorable day, the two young men, dressed, notin their simple sailor-like attire, but in the gorgeous andpicturesque Buduan costume--one of the most manly and elegant dressesas yet devised by human fancy--with damaskened silver-gilt pistolsand daggers to match, the hafts of which were all studded with roundbits of coral, dark chalcedonies and blood-red carnelians. These hadbeen the weapons of their great-grandfathers, and they showed bytheir costliness that they were no mean upstarts, dating only fromyesterday, but of a good old stock of warriors.

  Thus decked out, and not in borrowed plumes, they wended their way tothe cathedral, where a special Mass was to be said for them. Each ofthem was accompanied by a kind of sponsor or best man, and followedby all their relations, as well as by a number of friends.

  Having entered the crowded church--for such a ceremony is not oftenseen--Uros and Milenko went straight to the High Altar, and, bendingdown on one knee, they crossed themselves with much devotion. Then,taking off all their weapons, they laid them down on their right-handside, and lighted their huge tapers. The best men, who stoodimmediately behind, and the relations, lit their wax candles, just asif it had been the ritualistic pomp of marriage; thereupon they allknelt down till the priest had finished chanting the liturgy, and,after offering up the Holy Sacrament, Mass came to an end. This partof the service being over, the priest came up to them, saying:

  "Why and wherefore come ye here?"

  "We wish to become brothers."

  "And why do you wish to become brothers?"

  "Out of love," quoth Uros, who was the elder of the two by a fewmonths.

  "But do you know, my children, what you really ask; have youconsidered that this bond is a life-long one, and that, formed herewithin the House of God, it can never be broken. Are you prepared toswear that, in whatever circumstance of life you may be placed, thefriendship that binds you to-day will never be rent asunder?"

  "We are."

  "Can you take your oath to love and help each other as brothersshould, the whole of your lifetime?"

  "We can."

  "Well, then, swear before God and man to love each other with realbrotherly affection; swear never to be at variance, never to forsakeeach other."

  The oath was solemnly taken. After this the priest administered themthe Communion--though no more mixed up with a drop of their ownblood; he gave them the pax to kiss, whilst the thurible-bearers wereswinging their huge silver censers, which sent forth a cloudlet offragrant smoke. The two friends were almost hid from the view of thegazing crowd, for, the _pobratim_ being rich, neither frankincensenor myrrh had been spared. Then the priest, in his richest stole,placed both his hands above their heads, and uttered a lengthy prayerto God to bless them.

  The ceremony having come to an end, the _pobratim_ rose and kissedeach other repeatedly. They were then embraced by their sponsors andrelations, and congratulated by their friends. As they reached thechurch door, they were greeted by the shouts of "_Zivio!_" from alltheir friends, who, in sign of joy, fired off their pistols. Theyreplied to their courtesy in the same fashion, and so the din thatensued was deafening.

  Holding hands, they crossed the crowd, that parted to let them pass.Thus they both bent their steps towards Markovic's house, for, as helived nearer the church than Bellacic did, he was the giver of thefirst feast in honour of the _pobratim_.

  Upon entering the house, the young men kissed each other again; thenforthwith Uros kissed Janko Markovic, calling him father, whilstMilenko greeted Uros' parents in the same way.

  Afterwards presents were exchanged by the _pobratim_, then eachmember of either family had some gift in store for theirnewly-acquired kinsman, so that before the day was over they hadquite a little store of pipes and gold-embroidered tobacco pouches.

  Dinner being now ready, they all sat down to a copious, if not a verydainty meal; and the priest, who just before had asked a blessingupon the friends, wa
s the most honoured of all the guests.

  They ate heartily, and many toasts were drunk in honour of the twoyoung men, and those that could made speeches in rhyme to them.

  The feast was interrupted by the _Kolo_--a young man performingsundry evolutions with a decanter of wine upon his head, looking allthe while as clumsy as Heine's famous bear, Atta Troll.

  Then they began again to eat and drink, and filled themselves up insuch a way that they could hardly move from the table any more, sothat by the time St. Nicholas' Day came to an end, the hosts andalmost all the guests were snoring in happy oblivion.