She could only bend her head lower, and press the glowing sunflower convulsively to her breast, as though to still the tumultuous beatings of her fluttering heart.
And Filip, meanwhile, was also gazing at a picture. He was staring at the rickety and worm-eaten gate of the chancel, and replacing it in imagination by the new one which was to bring him in seventy silver florins; and as he gazed, he wondered to himself whether he would indeed be able to hit off St. Peter and his key.
"Did you see it?" said one of the church-goers to Danelo on the homeward way. "How soft, how rich, how brilliant!"
"How soft, how rich, how brilliant!" echoed Danelo.
"Even the gracious pani herself cannot have a finer one, though she is going to be a princess. Do you know how much it cost?"
"How much did what cost?" asked Danelo.
"Why, the carpet, of course."
"Oh, are you talking of the carpet?" said the young soldier, with a start.
"Naturally of the carpet; and of what else were you thinking?"
Danelo must have overheard the question, for he gave no answer.
CHAPTER VIII.
THUNDER IN THE AIR.
"In the most uneventful life there is always a Waterloo and a St. Helena." — Kraszewski.
Magda was conscious of a strange feeling of oppression all that day; it might only be the effect of the approaching thunderstorm perhaps, for the clouds had gathered together that afternoon, and now hung on the horizon, rolled into heavy, threatening masses, ready to burst, as it seemed, at the slightest breath of air. There was no breath of air, however, stirring as yet; and the poor parched earth still panted and craved for the rain which was so long in coming; the soil was rent everywhere with unseemly cracks and fissures; the flowers drooped languidly on their stalks; the corn-ears already rustled dry as straw to the touch.
Magda had put the pot to boil on the fire without water, and had mixed up the flour and the salt together by mistake; she wandered about the garden and the little courtyard aimlessly, like a person in a dream, or who has lost her direction; she would even have forgotten to milk the cow, had not that sagacious animal, losing patience at the unwonted delay, at last compelled her services by reiterated and pitiful bellowings.
As it was a feast-day, Filip was not busy in his workshed. But if his arms were condemned to inactivity, his busy brain refused to rest; and as he sat on the roomy bench in the little garden, he was plunged in a whole scale of calculations and measurements, which he occasionally rapped out with his finger on the seat, or sometimes took note of by cutting notches on a hazel-twig.
Magda had passed and repassed in front of him several times without his appearing to notice her presence; and only when at last she stood still before him did he look up. He did not notice how her eyes were shining with a strange fire, which an unshed tear tried in vain to quench, — how her cheeks were burning with an unwonted flush, — how her lips were parched as though in fever, — how her bosom rose and fell tumultuously; he saw none of these things, for he only said, —
"Well, zona (wife), is the supper ready?"
"No, the supper is not ready," she answered vaguely — "nothing is ready."
"Then be quick about it," he returned somewhat more sharply. "Do you not know that I must be off early to the town to-morrow? I shall be away all day, as I am coming back on foot."
"Filip," she cried impulsively, sitting down by his side on the bench — "Filip, do not go to the town to-morrow!"
"Not go to the town!" he said, in surprise. "Why, you know that I must go to have another look at those gates, and at that fellow's St. Peter. I find I cannot manage it unless I see it again, and take down the measurements exactly."
"Never mind St. Peter!" she cried again, more excitedly.
"Never mind St. Peter! Why, Magda, you must be mad to say so! Why, without St. Peter and the key, the gate will only be worth fifty florins; it will make twenty florins' difference in its value."
"What are twenty florins?" said Magda, but this time very low, almost below her breath. "There are more precious things than money in the world."
"And so I must start at five o'clock," continued Filip, pursuing his train of thought. "Neighbor Pawel has offered to take me in his cart; but I shall have to walk back, as he remains overnight. Why is the supper not ready?"
"Because I am miserable! Because I cannot live without a little love, a little kindness; because you care for nothing
