7. Knich’s House

The soldier whom he liked so much, was exhausted with fatigue and hungry as a wolf, therefore he followed the old farmer without waiting to be urged, and, once in the room, dropped into a seat, gaping, stretching out his arms, extending his legs, in a word, improving the happy chance which allowed him to rest a little his poor body, all bruised by the hardships of war.

It was plain that he took old Knich for a worthy man, very simple and ignorant; and one, to tell the truth, who only thought of his pies; as to the matter of the hay, that would come in its turn.

Maroussia at first occupied herself with getting the large wagon into the court. Little Tarass, very important, jumping about, helped her. When this was done, she went to rejoin the two men.

“Mr. Knich,” said Maroussia, “what fine grain you have in your fields! I admired it passing by. It is still a little green, but I think one could use it, if necessary, even before it is entirely ripe.”

“God be praised, my little child! God be praised! Yes, we shall have a good harvest!” answered old Knich.

His calm voice betrayed not the least emotion. He trotted about in the room, calling his servants, giving his orders in a cheerful voice. He was a worthy man, proud of his pies and his hams, smiling in advance at the thought of the welcome which the stranger would give to the repast that he was preparing for him.

“Has he understood me?” Maroussia asked herself. “No, he has not! Nevertheless—” and her heart stood still,—“if he did not understand!”

She did not know what to think, what to do. “I must be like him,” she said at last to herself. “I must be brave, know how to be silent and to wait.”

She understood that the Envoy had given proof of all these qualities, in not jumping from the wagon on the way, when he had seen his escort reduced to one soldier, this Ivan, of whom he would have made only a mouthful, and in still remaining in it after its entrance into the court. Therefore, having taken this resolution to be like him, she asked no questions of the old man, but trotted about after him.

His cottage was large. The furniture was composed of seats of solid oak. Upon the walls, whitened as white as snow, strings of dried herbs filled the air with the fragrance of the wild flora of the steppe.

In a corner, the pictures of God and the Saints were ornamented with fresh flowers. In the middle of the room, a large, massive table, also of oak, was covered with a white table-cloth with colored fringe.

Old Knich invited his guest to be seated.

“I mustn’t forget the refreshments,” he said. “They will soon be ready, they will soon be ready.” And, running from one place to another, he brings large glasses, goes down into the cellar, climbs up into the attic, opens the pantry door, drops the spoons, empties one bottle into another, gets down the smoked sausages and runs to the garden, etc.