The Pobratim: A Slav Novel

CHAPTER XIX

THE "KARVA TAJSTVO"

The sun had already set as Mara and her friend left the convent gates and slowly wended their way homewards. The mother's heart was heavily laden with grief, for although the holy men had done their best to comfort and encourage her, still doubt oppressed her, and she kept asking herself whether she would still find her son alive on the morrow. Now the darkness which slowly spread itself over the open country, and rendered the surrounding rocks of a gloomier hue, the broad, blue sea of a dull, leaden tint, only made her sadness more intense.

Dusk softens the human heart; it opens it to those tender emotions unfelt during the struggle of the day, whilst the raging sun pouring from above enkindles the fierce passions lurking in the heart. That dimness which spreads itself over the world at nightfall, wrapping it up as in a vaporous shroud, has a mystic power over our nature. That clear obscure mistiness seems to open to the mind's eye the distant depths of borderland; we almost fancy we can see dim, shadowy figures float past before us. The most sceptic man becomes religious, superstitious and spiritual at gloaming.

The two women hardly spoke on their way; both of them prayed for the sufferer lying in the convent; but whilst they prayed their minds often wandered from Uros to Milena, who had been left at home ailing. When they arrived at the gates of the town night had already set in. Mara hastened home with her friend, but Milena was not there; they both went to Radonic's house to look for her. They were afraid lest, in her state of health, she might have heard of her husband's death.

A dreary night awaited the women there. After the child had left her, Milena, who had fallen into a swoon, had been delivered of a son; but the infant, uncared for, and finding the world bleak and desolate, had fled away, without even waiting for the holy water and the salt to speed it forth to more blessed regions.

Milena had only been roused to life by the throes of childbirth, and no sooner had her deliverance taken place than she again fainted away.

Mara's neighbour having, in the meanwhile, been informed by her little boy of Milena's illness, hastened at once to her help. Moreover, on her way thither, she called the babica (or midwife), but when she reached Radonic's house, she found the new-born infant a cold corpse and the mother apparently dead. The two women did their utmost to recall Milena to life, but all their skill was of no avail. At last, at their wits' end, a passer-by was hailed and begged to go for the doctor at once.

When Mara came, all hopes of rousing Milena to life had been despaired of, but what the skill of the scientific practitioner and of the wise old woman could not bring about, was effected simply by Mara's presence. After Uros' mother had stood some time by her side, stroking her hair, pressing her hand on the sufferer's clammy forehead, and whispering endearing words in her ear, Milena opened her eyes. Seeing Mara standing beside her, the sight of that woman whom she loved, and whose son she doated on, slowly roused her to life. Consciousness, little by little, crept back within her. When she heard from the mother's lips that Uros was not dead, nay, that there was hope of his recovery, she whispered:

"If I could only see him once more, then I should be but too happy to die."

After this slight exertion she once more fainted, but she was soon afterwards brought back again to life, and Mara then was able to make her take the cordial the doctor had prepared for her.

A few hours later, when the physician took his leave for the night, prescribing to the women what they were to do, he and the midwife warmly congratulated each other, not doubting that their skill had snatched the young woman out of the jaws of death.

After a night of pain and restlessness, Milena, early on the next morning, exhausted as she was, fell into a quiet, death-like sleep. Mara then left her to return to the Convent of St. George to see if Uros were still alive and how he was getting on. Milenko's mother went with her. They had not been away long when Milena, shuddering, uttered a loud cry of terror, sat up in her bed and looked straight in front of her.

"What is the matter?" said the midwife, running up to the bedside.

"Don't you see him standing there?" cried the awe-stricken woman.

"There is nobody, my dear; nobody at all."

"Yes! Radonic, my husband, all covered with wounds! He is dying – he is dead!" and Milena, appalled, stared wildly at the foot of the bed.

"It is your imagination; your husband is with your father at Cettinje."

"No, no; I tell you he's there; help him, or he'll bleed to death!" and the poor woman, exhausted, fell back on her bed unconscious.

The midwife shuddered, for, although she saw nobody, she was quite sure that the apparition seen by Milena was no fancy of an overheated brain, but Radonic's ghost, that had come to visit his wife, for the news of the heyduk's death had been carefully withheld from Milena.

The midwife went to the fount of holy water, took the blessed sprig of olive which was over it, dipped it into the fount and sprinkled the bed and the place where the ghost had stood, uttering all the while the appropriate prayer for the purpose. Then she sprinkled Milena, and made the sign of the Cross over her. After that she gave her some drops of cordial, and little by little brought her back to her senses, vowing all the while not to remain alone again in that haunted house.

When Milena recovered, "My husband is dead, is he not?" she asked.

"But – no," said the midwife, hesitatingly.

"You know he is. Did you not see him standing there? He had one wound on the head and several in the breast."

The elderly woman did not answer.

"When did he die?" quoth Milena.

"Some days ago; but – "

"He was killed by the Turks, was he not?"

"Yes."

"Why did no one tell me?"

"Because they were afraid to upset you."

"He is dead," said Milena to herself, staring at the spot where she had seen her husband, "dead!" Then she heaved a deep sigh of relief.

The midwife tried to comfort her, but she did not seem to heed her words.

"My babe is dead, all are dead!"

Presently the doctor came in to see how she was getting on.

"Is Uros dead?" was Milena's first question.

"No, he is still alive; a message came from the convent this morning."

"But is there any hope of recovery?"

"If he has lasted on till to-day he may yet pull through; he is young and healthy."

"Can I get up to-day?" asked Milena, wistfully.

"Get up?" asked the doctor, astonished.

"Yes."

"Did you hear her?" said the physician, turning towards the midwife. "She asks if she can get up. Yes, you can get up if you wish to kill yourself."

A look of determination settled in the young woman's eyes; but neither the doctor nor the midwife noticed it.

"Anyhow, it is a good sign when the patient asks if he can get up, except in consumption," added the physician, taking his leave. "If you keep very quiet, and lie perfectly still, without tossing about and fretting, you'll be able to get up in a few days."

Milena pressed her lips, but did not say anything in reply; only, after a little time:

"Do I look very ill?"

"No, not so very ill, either."

"Give me that looking-glass," she added.

The midwife hesitated.

"Is that the way you are going to lie still and get well; you must know that yesterday you were very ill."

"I know; but please hand me the looking-glass."

The midwife did as she was bid. Milena took up the glass and looked at herself scrutinisingly, just like an actor who has made up his face.

"I am very much altered, am I not?"

"Oh, but it'll be all over in one or two days! Wait till to-morrow, and – "

"But to-day I think people would hardly recognise me?"

"Oh, it is not quite as bad as that! besides – "

Milena opened her eyes questioningly, and looked at the midwife.

"I care very little whether I am good-looking or not; whom have I to live for now?"

"Come, you must not give up in that way. You are but a child, and have seen but little happiness up to now; you are rich, free, handsome; you'll soon find a husband, only don't talk, take a cup of this good broth, and try to go to sleep."

"Very well, but I know you are busy, so go home and send me your daughter; she can attend upon me; besides, gospa Markovic will soon be here."

The midwife hesitated.

"Go," said Milena; "I'll feel quieter if you go."

"But you must promise me to keep very quiet, and not to attempt, on any account, to get up."

"Certainly," said Milena; "the doctor said I was not to rise; why should I disobey him? Besides, where have I to go?"

The midwife, after having tucked her patient carefully in bed and made her as cosy as she could, went off, saying that her daughter would soon come to her.

Milena, with anxious eyes and a beating heart, watched the midwife, and, at last, saw her go away and close the door after her. She waited for some time to see that she did not return; then she gathered up all her strength, and tried to rise.

It was, however, a far more difficult task than she had expected, for she fancied that she had fallen from the top of a high mountain into a chasm beneath, and that every bone in her body had been broken to splinters. If she had been crushed under horses' hoofs, she could not have felt a greater soreness all over her body. Still, rise she would, and she managed to crawl slowly out of her bed.

Her legs, at first, could hardly hold her up; the nerves and muscles had lost all their strength, she fancied the bones had got limp; her back, especially, seemed to be gnawed by hungry dogs.

Having managed to get over her first fit of faintness, she, holding on to the bed and against the wall, succeeded in dragging herself towards the table and dropped into a chair.

She sat there for a while, making every effort to overcome her faintness, but she felt so sick, so giddy, and in such pain, that her head sank down on the table of its own weight, and she burst out crying from sheer exhaustion.

When she had somewhat recovered, she slowly undid her long tresses, and her luxuriant hair fell in waves down to the ground. She shook her head slightly, as if to disentangle the wavy mass, plunged her fingers through the locks to separate them, and felt them lovingly, uttering a deep sigh of regret as she did so; then after a moment's pause, she shrugged her shoulders, took up a pair of scissors, and, without more ado, she clipped the long tresses as close to her head as she possibly could, carefully placing each one on the table as she cut it off. Then she felt her head, which seemed so small, so cold, and so naked; she took up a mirror with a trembling hand and quivering lips pulled down at each corner. After she had seen her own reflection in the glass, she burst into tears. She had hardly put down the mirror, when Frana, the midwife's daughter, came in.

The young girl, seeing Milena, whom she had expected to find in bed, sitting on the chair with all her hair clipped off, remained rooted to the spot where she was standing.

"Milena, dear, is it you?"

"Yes," replied Milena, mournfully.

"But why did you get up? and why have you cut off your beautiful hair?" asked the midwife's daughter, scared.

"My hair burdened my head; I could not bear the weight any more; besides – "

The young girl looked at Milena, wondering whether she were in her right senses, or if the grief of having lost her husband and her child had not driven her to distraction.

"Besides what, Milena?"

"Well, I am not for long in this world, you know!"

"Do not say such foolish things; and let me help you back to bed."

Milena shook her head, and fixing her large and luminous deep blue eyes on the young girl, she said, wistfully:

"Listen, Frana. Uros is dying, perhaps he is dead! I must see him once more. I must go to him, even if I have to die on the way thither!"

"What! go to the Convent of St. George?"

Milena nodded assent.

"But what are you thinking about? How can you, in your state, think of going there?"

"I must, even if I should have to crawl on all-fours!"

"But if you got there, if I carried you there, they would never let you go in; you know women – "

"Yes, they will; that's why I've cut off my hair."

"I don't understand."

"I'll dress up as a boy; you'll come with me; you'll say I'm your brother, and Uros' friend. You'll do that for me, Frana?"

And Milena lifted up her pleading eyes, which now seemed larger than ever and lighted up with an inward ethereal fire.

The young girl seemed to be hypnotised by those entreating eyes.

"But where will you find the clothes you want?"

"If you can't get me your brother's, then borrow or buy a suit for me; but go at once. You must get me a cap, and all that is required, but go at once."

"Very well; only, in the meantime, go to bed, take some broth, and wait till I return."

"But you promise to come back as quickly as you can?"

"Yes, if you are determined to put your life in danger, and – "

"And what?"

"If you don't care what people say."

"Frana, if ever you love a man as I love Uros, you will see that you will care very little for your own life, and still less for what people might say about you."

Frana helped Milena to go to bed again. She made her take a cup of broth, with the yolk of an egg beaten into it; placed, on a chair by her bed, a bowl of mulled wine, which she was to take so as to get up her strength; put away the long locks of hair lying on the table, and at last she went off.

Presently, Milenko's mother came to see Milena, and stayed with her till Frana returned, and then she was persuaded to go back home. When she had gone, Frana undid the bundle she had brought, took out a jacket, a pair of wide breeches and leggings, the opanke; lastly, the small black cap with its gold-embroidered crimson crown.

Frana helped Milena to dress, and, in her weak state, the operation almost exhausted her. The broad sash, tightly wound round her waist, served to keep her up, and, leaning on Frana's arm, she left the house.

"I have managed to find a cart for you, so we need not cross the town, but go round the walls, in order that you may not be seen; besides, the cart will take us to the foot of the mountain, not far from the convent."

"How shall I ever be able to thank you enough for what you have done for me, Frana?"

"By getting over your illness as quickly as possible, for if any harm should come of it my mother 'll never forgive me, and I don't blame her."

The sun was in the meridian when the cart arrived at the foot of the mountain and the two friends alighted. As they climbed the rough and uneven path leading up to the convent, Milena, though leaning on Frana's strong arm, had more than once to stop and rest, for at every step she made the pain in every joint, in every muscle, was most acute. It seemed as if all the ligaments that bind the bones of the skeleton together had snapped asunder, and that her body was about to fall to pieces. Then she felt a smarting, a fire that was burning within her bowels, and which increased at every effort she made; in fact, had it not been for the young girl, she would either have sunk by the roadside or crawled up – as she had said herself – on all-fours.

Her head also was aching dreadfully, her temples were throbbing, and she was parched with fever. Her limbs sank every now and then beneath her weight; still, her love and her courage kept her up, and she trudged along without uttering a word of complaint. At last they reached the convent. Then her strength gave way. Anxiety, pain and shame overpowered her, and she fell fainting on the threshold. Frana summoned help; but, before the monks came, Milena had recovered, and was sitting down on a bench to rest.

In the meanwhile Uros was lingering on – a kind of death in life; the vital flame was flickering, but not entirely extinguished; the ties that fastened the soul to life were still strong. Towards midnight he had sat up in his bed, and – as the monks thought – the Virgin and Christ had appeared to him, then he had, for some time, not given any further signs of consciousness. Nay, the monks were so sure the sufferer was passing away, that they, in fact, began reciting the prayers for the dying. They did so with much fervour, regarding Uros almost as a saint, for never had mortal man been so highly favoured by the Deity. Little by little, however, life, instead of ebbing away, seemed to return; but the sufferer's mind was quite lost.

In the morning, first his father had come, together with his friend Janko, and a little while afterwards Mara came.

The monks related to the wondering parents how the Virgin had appeared, bringing with her the infant Christ for him to kiss. Milenko, however, kept his peace, feeling sure that if he expressed an opinion as to the weird apparition, his words would be regarded as blasphemy.

Coming to himself, Uros recognised his parents, and as Mara bent upon him to kiss his brows:

"Milena," whispered Uros, almost inaudibly.

"Milenko," said the mother, "he wants you."

"No," said Milenko, softly to Mara, "it is not me he wants; he has been calling for Milena since he has been coming back to life. I am sure that her presence would quiet him, and, who knows? perhaps add to his recovery."

The poor mother said nothing; she only patted her boy's brown hand, which seemed to have got whiter and thinner in this short space of time.

"I think it is so hard to refuse him a thing upon which he has set his heart," said Milenko, pleadingly.

Mara still gave no answer.

"Perhaps I am wrong in mentioning it – but you do not know how dearly he loved this cousin of his."

Mara's eyes filled with tears.

"Could these priests not be persuaded to let her come in just for a moment?"

"Milena is too ill to come here; in fact – "

"Is she dead?" asked the young man.

"No, not dead, but as ill as Uros himself is."

"What is the matter with her?" asked Milenko.

Mara whispered something in the young man's ear.

Danilo Kvekvic had left the sufferer to attend to his own duties. All the monks of the convent had, one by one, come to recite an orison by the bedside, as at some miraculous shrine; then Uros was left to the care of his parents; even the old monk, after administering to the young man's wants, had gone to take some rest.

For some time the room was perfectly quiet; Mara and Milenko were whispering together in subdued tones; the pobratim's fathers stood outside.

After a little while Uros began to be delirious, and to speak about Radonic and Vranic, who were going to kill Milena.

"There, you see, she is dying; let me go to her. Why do you hold me here? Unhand me; you see she is alone – no one to attend upon her." (The remainder of his words were unintelligible.)

The tears rolled down Mara's cheeks, for she thought that her son's words were but too true; at that moment Milena was probably dying.

"She came to me for help, and I – "

"Milenko," added the delirious man, "get the ship ready; let us take her away."

"Yes," said Milenko; "we have only to heave the anchor and be off."

Uros thereupon made an effort to get up, but the pain caused by his wound was so great that he fell fainting on his bed with a deep moan.

The two men standing at the door came to the sufferer's bedside. Mara herself bent over him to assist him. Just then Milenko was called out – someone was asking for him.

The fever-fit had subsided. The sufferer, falling back on his pillow, exhausted, seemed to be slowly breathing his last.

The tears were falling fast from Mara's eyes. The two men by the bed were twisting their bristling moustaches, looking helplessly forlorn. Just then Milenko appeared on the threshold, followed by a wan and corpse-like boy. Bellacic frowned at the intruder. Mara, at the sight, started back, opening her eyes widely.

"You?" said she.

Milena's head drooped down. Milenko put his arm round her waist to keep her up.

"You here, my child?" added Mara, opening her arms and clasping the young woman within them.

Milena began to sob in a low voice.

"The blessed Virgin must have given you supernatural strength, my poor child; still, you have been killing yourself."

Milena did not utter a word. She pressed Mara's hand convulsively; her face twitched nervously as she looked upon her lover lying lifelessly on his bed; then (Mara having made way for her) the exhausted woman sank down upon her chair.

"I told you," said the old monk, coming in, "that in your weak, exhausted state it was not right for you to see your friend, but nowadays," added he, in a grumbling tone, "young people are so headstrong that they will never do what is required of them for their own good. Now that you have seen him, I hope that you are satisfied and will come out."

"Just let me stay a little longer, till he comes to himself again, only a very few minutes," said Milena, imploringly, and clasping her hands in supplication.

"Please let him stay; Uros 'll be so glad to see him when he opens his eyes. He'll keep very quiet till then."

"Be it so," said the monk; "only the room is getting too crowded. The best cure for a sick man is sympathy and fresh air."

"You are right," said Milenko, "but I give up my place to him; besides, I have some business in town."

As Bellacic accompanied the pobratim out —

"Where are you going?" said he.

"To find out Vranic, and settle accounts with him."

"No, no! Wait!" said the father.

"Wait! for what?"

"Let us not think of vengeance as long as Uros lives."

Milenko did not seem persuaded; Bellacic insisted:

"Don't let us provoke the wrath of the Almighty by more bloodshed."

As they were thus discussing the matter, the doctor from Budua arrived, having been sent by Danilo Kvekvic at the request of the monks.

The old practitioner, the same one who had attended Milena, looked at Uros, shook his head gravely, as if he would say: "There is no hope whatever;" then he touched the sufferer's pulse and examined his wound. He approved of the treatment he had received, and then, after a few moments' brown study, and after taking a huge pinch of snuff, as if to clear his head, he said, slowly, that all human effort was vain; the young man could not last more than a few hours – till eventide, or, at the longest, during the night.

"Umph!" grunted the old man, shrugging his shoulders; "he is in the hands of God."

"Of course, of course. We are all in the hands of God."

"I thought," added the caloyer, "he would not pass yesterday night, especially after the Most Blessed appeared to him, holding her Infant in her arms."

"What!" said the doctor; "you mean to say that the Virgin appeared to him?"

"Of course, and I was not the only one who saw her, for, besides, Blagoslav, Danko Kvekvic, and this young man" – pointing to Milenko – "were also in the room."

"Then God may perform another miracle in his favour," said the doctor, incredulously, "for he is beyond all earthly skill."

Uros, in fact, was sinking fast, and, although the old man clung to hope, still the doctor's words seemed but too true. After some time the sufferer seemed to give signs of consciousness, and when Milena placed her thin white hand on his forehead, he felt the slight pressure of her fingers, and, with his eyes closed, said:

"Milena, are you here?" and a faint smile played over his lips.

"Yes, my love," whispered Milena, "I am here."

Uros opened his eyes, looked at her, and seemed bewildered at the change which had come over her; still, he said nothing for a while, but was evidently lost in thought, after which he added:

"Milena, have you been here all night?"

"No, I only came here just now."

"You look ill – very ill; I thought you were dying."

Milena kissed his hand, bathing it with tears. Uros once more sank down on his bed exhausted; still, after a few moments' rest, he again opened his eyes and looked round for his father. Bellacic understood the mute appeal, and bent down over him.