The Pobratim: A Slav Novel by P. Jones
CHAPTER V
DUCK SHOOTING AT NONA
The weather was clear and bright on the second day of the year. Thesea was not only calm, but of the most beautiful turquoise blue, notthe slightest cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the sun's rayswere as sparkling and as warm as if it had been a glowing day in thelatter part of April instead of early January. Nature lookedrefreshed and coquettishly radiant; her beauty was enhanced by thestorm of the day before.
The red-tiled roofs of the higher houses, such as convents and publicbuildings, the domes and spires of churches, peeped slily over thetown walls of Zara, and the brig, the _Spera in Dio_, which thatmorning lay at anchor by the wharf opposite the principal gate, thePorta San Grisogono, or Porta del Mare, as it is also called.
On the pier, along the wharf, on the strand, and within the narrowstreet, a motley crowd is to be seen; everyone is gaily decked out infestive apparel; this sight is one that would have rejoiced apainter, for few towns present such a variety of dresses as Zara.There were fair _Morlacchi_ in white woollen clothes, their trousersfitting them like tights, with their reddish hair plaited into alittle pig-tail; tall and swarthy, long-moustachioed _pandours_,handsome warlike men, that any stranger might mistake for Turks,their coats laced and waistcoats covered with silver buttons, buglesand large coins, glittering in the sunshine, that make them look, ata distance, as if dressed in armour; then there were peasants, whosecottages are built on the neighbouring reefs, clad in tight bluetrousers, trimmed in red, red waistcoats laced in yellow, and brownjackets embroidered in various colours; country girls in greendresses, red stockings and yellow shoes. These men and women all wearshirts and chemises prettily stitched and worked in all possiblecolours of silks and cottons. Some of these embroideries of flowersand arabesques are of the richest dyes, and the cherry-red is mingledwith ultramarine blue and leek-green; they are sometimes interwovenwith shells or tinsel; their stockings and leggings are bits ofgorgeous tapestry, whilst the women's aprons are like Easterncarpets. As for the jewellery, it varies from rows of arangoes tomassive gold beads studded with pearls and other precious stones,similar to those which the Murano manufactories have artisticallyimitated.
Amongst these peasants are to be seen tall, stately white friars,portly grey friars, and stout and snuffy-brown friars; priests inrusty black, priests in fine broadcloth, with violet stockings andshoes with silver buckles, priests of high and priests of low degree.Then Austrian officers in white jackets, Croat soldiers in tighttrousers, Hungarians in laced tunics. Lastly, a few civilians, whoare very much out of place in their ungainly, antiquated clothes.
On the morrow, it was found that the _Spera in Dio_ had been muchdamaged by the late storm, and that it was impossible for her to sailwithout being thoroughly repaired. The little ship-yard of Zara wastoo busy just then to undertake the work, so Giulianic persuaded thecaptain to proceed onwards as far as Nona, where he could getshipwrights to work for him. Therefore, two days after their arrivalat Zara, they set sail for Nona, together with their shipwreckedguests. The captain and his two mates had now become intimate friendswith Giulianic and his family, who did their utmost to try andentertain the young men.
Nona, however, offers but few amusements, nay, hardly any, exceptinghunting; still, Giulianic being a great sportsman, a shooting partywas arranged on the brackish lake of Nona, which at that time of theyear abounds in coots, wild ducks, and other migratory birds.
Milenko, though fond of this sport, vainly tried to stay on board,thinking that an hour in Ivanika Giulianic's company was better thana whole day's shooting on the lake; but all the paltry excuses hegave for staying behind were speedily overcome, so he had to yield toUros and the captain, and go with them.
The lake of Nona, which is just outside the old battlemented walls ofthe town, is about a mile in length: its waters are always rathersalty, on account of two canals which at high tide communicate withthe sea.
The little party, composed of the captain, his two mates, Giulianicand some other friends of his, started for the lake about an hourbefore sunrise; and towards dawn they all got into the canoes thatwere there waiting for them, as every hunter had a little boat and anoarsman at his disposal.
They left the shores on different sides, and noiselessly glidedtowards the place where the coots had gathered for the night,surrounding them on every side, so as to cut away from them everymeans of escape.
When they had reached the goal, the signal for beginning the attackwas given, a musket being fired from off the shore. That loud noise,midst the stillness of early dawn, startled the poor birds from theirpeaceful slumbers; they at once foolishly rise, fly and flutter aboutin all directions, but without soaring to any great height. Theslaughter now begins. Soon the birds get over their first fright, andthe hunters not to scare them away, leave them a few moments'respite; the coots then seem loath to abandon such a rich pasture andturn back to their sedges. Therefore they see the boats appear onevery side and hedge them within a narrow circle. They are once moreon the wing, ready to fly away. Greed again prevails over fear; thebirds gather together, but do not make their escape. Pressed closerby the hunters they at last rise all in a flock. It is too late;death reaches them on every side. All at once, amidst the smoke andthe noise, they make a bold attempt to cross the enemy's line, butonly do so in the greatest confusion, flying hither and thither,helter-skelter, the one butting against the other, and thus they allkept falling a prey to the keen-eyed, quick-handed sportsmen.
At first the shores of the lake are but dimly seen through the thickveil of mist arising from the smooth surface of the ripplelesswaters, as from a huge brewing-pan, and everything is of a coldgreyish hue, fleecy on the shore. But now the sun has appeared like aburnished disc of copper amidst a golden halo; soon all the mistvanishes beneath his warm rays. The mellow morning light falls uponthe numberless feathered carcasses that dye the waters of thestagnant mere.
The pulse of every sportsman flutters with excitement; despair hasgiven courage to the birds, which rise much higher than before, andare making heroic efforts to break through the lines. Soon the flurrythat had prevailed amongst the birds, falls to the lot of thesportsmen; they give orders and counter orders to the oarsmen, andthe circle of boats has become an entangled maze.
The lake now resounds, not so much with firing as with shouts ofmerriment and peals of laughter, sometimes because one of the boatshas butted against the other, and one of the hunters has lost hisbalance and got a ducking. The morning being now far advanced, thesportsmen gather together for breakfast, leaving time to the birds toget over their bewildered state and settle quietly again in a flockround about their resting-place.
In an hour's time the shooting begins again, but the head is not solight, the sight so keen, nor the hand so quick as before breakfast;nay, it happened at times that the captain saw two coots instead ofone, and fired just between the two; besides, the birds were also ina more disbanded state, so that the quantity of game killed was notwhat it had been in the early part of the morning. Mirth, however,did not flag; the mist, moreover, having quite vanished, the beautyof the green shores was seen in all its splendour.
Many of the youthful inhabitants of Nona had come to see the sport,picking up some wounded bird bleeding to death in the fields; whilstmany a countryman passing thereby, wearily trudging towards his home,his long-barrelled gun slung across his shoulder, shot down more thanone stray coot that had taken refuge in a neighbouring field, hopingthereby to have escaped from the general slaughter.
At last, late in the afternoon, our sportsmen, heavily laden,followed Giulianic to his house, to finish there the day which theyhad so well begun.
Moreover, the men having risen so very early and being tired out,fell to dozing. Uros had gone to the ship to see how the repairs weregetting on, and Milenko was thus left alone with Ivanika, orIvanitza, as she was usually called. This was the opportunity he hadeagerly wished for, to confess his love to her; nay, for two days hehad rehearsed this scene over and
Although he was said to be gifted with a vivid imagination, now thathe was alone with her he could hardly find a word to say. It was,indeed, so much easier to woo in fancy than in reality.
How happy he would have been, walking in the garden with thisbeautiful girl, if he could only have got rid of his overpoweringshyness. How many things he could have told her if he had only knownhow to begin; but every monosyllable he had uttered was said withtrepidation, and in a hoarse and husky tone. Still, with everypassing moment, he felt he was losing a precious opportunity he mightnever have again.
He did not know, however, that, if his lips were dumb, his eyes,beaming with love, spoke a passionate speech that words themselveswere powerless to express. Nor was he aware that--though withmaidenly coyness she turned her head away--she still read in hisburning glances the love she longed to hear from his lips.
After a few commonplace phrases they walked on in silence, and thenthe same thoughts filled their hearts with almost unutterableanguish. In a few days the brig would be repaired, the sailsunfurled, the anchor weighed; then the broad sea would separate themfor ever.
The sun was just sinking beyond the waves, and the shivering waterslooked like translucent gold; a mass of soft, misty clouds wasglowing with saffron, orange and crimson hues, whilst the sky abovewas of a warm, roseate flush. Little by little all the tints faded,became duller, more delicate; the saffron changed into a pale-greyishlemon green, the crimson softened into pink. The sun's last rayshaving disappeared, the opaline clouds looked like wreaths of smokeor pearly-grey mists.
Milenko's heart felt all the changes that Nature underwent; hisglowing love, though not less intent, was more subdued, and though,in his yearning, he longed to clasp this maiden in his arms, and totell her that his life would be sadder than dusk itself without herlove, still he felt too much and had not the courage to speak.Sometimes in the fulness of the heart the mouth remains mute.
Now the bell of a distant church began to ring slowly--the eveningsong, the dirge of the dying day. Ivanitza crossed herself devoutly;Milenko took off his cap, and likewise made the sign of the Cross.Both of them stopped; both breathed a short prayer, and then resumedtheir walk in silence.
After a few steps he tried to master his emotion and utter that shortsentence: "Ivanitza, I love you."
Then something seemed to grip his throat and choke him; it was notpossible for him to bring those words out. Besides, he thought theywould sound so unmeaning and vapid, so far from expressing the hungerof his heart; so he said nothing.
Meanwhile the bell kept doling out its chimes slowly, one by one, andas he asked himself whether it were possible to live without thisgirl, whom he now loved so dearly, the harmony of the bell chimed inwith his thoughts, and said to him: "Ay, nay; ay, nay."
All at once, feeling that this girl must think him a fool if he keptsilent, that he must say something, no matter what it was, andhappening to see a lonely gull flying away towards the sea, he said,in a faltering tone:
"Ivanika, do you like coots?"
It was the only thing that came into his mind. She looked up at himwith a roguish twinkle in her eyes.
"Do you mean cooked coots or live coots?"
Milenko looked for a while rather puzzled, as if bewildered by thequestion. Then, taking the tips of the girl's fingers: "I was notthinking of them, either alive or cooked."
Ivanika quietly drew her hand away.
"What were you thinking of, then?" she said.
"May I tell you?"
"Well, if you want any answer to your question," added she, laughing.
"Please don't make fun of me. If you only knew----"
"What?"
He grasped her hand, and held it tight in his.
"Well, how deeply I love you."
He said this in a tragic tone, and heaved a sigh of relief when itwas out at last.
The young girl tried to wrench away her hand, but he held it fast.She turned her head aside, so that he could not see theuncontrollable ray of happiness that gleamed within the depths of hereyes. Her heart fluttered, a thrill of joy passed through her wholeframe; but she did her best to subdue her emotion, which might seembold and unmaidenly, so that she schooled herself to say demurely,nay almost coldly:
"How can you possibly love me, when you know so little of me?"
"But must you know a person for ages before you love him, Ivanitza?"
"No, I don't mean that; still----"
"Though I have never been fond of any girl till now, and thereforedid not know what love was, still, the moment I saw you I felt as ifmy heart had stopped beating. You may think it strange, but still itis true. When I saw you with my spy-glass standing bravely on thedeck of your crazy boat, whilst the huge billows and breakers weredashing against you, ever ready to wash you away, then my heartseemed to take wings and fly towards you. How I suffered at thatmoment. Every time your boat was about to sink, I gasped, feeling asif I myself was drowning; but had the caique foundered, I should havejumped in the waves and swum to your rescue."
Ivanitza's heart throbbed with joy, pride, exultation at the thoughtof having the love of such a brave man.
"You see, I had hardly seen you, and still I should have risked mylife a thousand times to help you. It was for you, and you alone,that I got into the boat to come to you, though the captain and Urosat first thought it sheer madness; and if my friend and the othersailor had not accompanied me--well, I should have come alone."
"And got drowned?"
"Life would not have been worth living without you."
The young girl looked at him with admiring eyes, and nature, for amoment, almost got the mastery over her shyness and the sternclaustral way in which, like all Levantine girls, she had beenbrought up; for her impulse was to throw herself in his arms andleave him to strain her against his manly chest. Besides, at thatmoment she remembered what a delightful sensation she had had when,awaking from her swoon, she had felt herself carried like a baby inhis strong arms. Still, she managed to master herself, and only said:
"So, had it not been for you, we should all have been drowned."
"Oh, I don't say that! Seeing your danger, at the last moment someoneelse might, perhaps, have volunteered to come to your rescue. Urosand the captain are both very brave; only the captain has a family ofhis own, and Uros---"
"What! is he married?"
"Oh, no!" said Milenko, laughing; "he is not married, but----"
"But what?"
"Well, you see, he is in love; but please do not mention a word aboutit to him or anyone else."
"Why, is it a secret?"
"Yes, it is a very great secret--that is to say, not a very greatsecret either, but it is a matter never to be spoken of."
"No? Why?"
"I can't tell you; indeed, I can't."
"How you tantalise me!"
"I'll tell you, perhaps, some other time."
"When?"
"Well, perhaps, when----"
"Go on."
"When we are married."
The young girl burst out laughing. It was a clear, silvery,spontaneous, merry laugh; but still, for a moment, it jarred uponMilenko's nerves. He looked rather downcast, for he was far fromthinking the matter to be a joke.
"Why do you laugh?" said he, ruefully.
"Because, probably, I shall never know your friend's secret."
The poor fellow's brown complexion grew livid, the muscles of hisheart contracted with a spasm, he gasped for breath; the pang he feltwas so strong that he could hardly speak; still, he managed tofalter:
"Why, are you, perhaps, already engaged to be married?"
"I?" said she, with another laugh. "No."
"Nor in love with anyone?"
"No."
"Then, don't you think----"
He stopped again.
"Think what?"
"Well, that you might love me a little some d
She gave him no answer.
"What, you don't think you could?" he asked, anxiously.
"But I didn't say that I couldn't, only----"
"Only what?"
"A girl cannot always choose for herself."
"Why not?"
"Suppose my father chooses someone else for me?"
"But surely he will not."
"Suppose he has already promised me----"
"Why go and suppose such dreadful things? Besides, he ought toremember that I risked my life to save yours; that----"
Milenko stopped for a moment, and then he added:
"Well, I don't like boasting; still, if it had not been for me--well,I suppose your caique would have foundered. No, tell me that you loveme, or at least that you might get to love me. Let me ask yourfather----"
"No, no; not yet."
"Why not?"
"Well, we hardly know each other. Who knows, perhaps, the next portyou go to----"
Here she heaved a deep sigh.
"Well, what?" asked the youth, ingenuously.
"You might see some girl that you might like better than myself, andthen you will regret that you have engaged yourself to a girl whomyou think you are obliged to marry."
"How can you think me so fickle?"
"You are so young."
"So is Uros young, and still----"
"Still?" she asked, smilingly, with an inquisitive look.
"He is in love."
"With?"
"A woman," said Milenko, gloomily.
"Of course."
"Well, I'll tell you, only please don't mention it--with a marriedwoman. Are you not sorry for him?"
"No, not at all; a young man ought not to fall in love with a marriedwoman--it's a sin, a crime."
"That's what I told him myself."
After a short pause, Milenko, having now got over his shyness:
"Well, Ivanitza, tell me, will you not give me a little hope; willyou not try to love me just a little?"
"Would you be satisfied with only just a little?"
"No."
"Well, then--I am afraid----"
"What?"
"I shall have to love you a good deal."
He caught hold of her reluctant hand and covered it with kisses.
"If you think that your father might object to me because I am aseaman, tell him that my father is well off, and that I am his onlyson. Both Uros and I have gone to sea by choice, and to see a littleof the world; still, we are not to be sailors all our lives."
Afterwards he began to ask her whether she would not like to come andsail with him in summer, when he would be master of the brig; thenagain he ended by begging her to allow him to speak to her father.
"No, not now. It is better for you to go away and see if you do notforget me. Besides, neither your father nor your mother know anythingabout me, and it may happen that they have other views about you."
"Their only aim is my happiness."
"Still, they might think that you were wheedled----"
"How could they think so ill of you?"
"You forget that they do not know me. Anyhow, it is more dutiful thatyou should speak to them before you speak to my father."
"Well, perhaps you are right. Only, you see, I love you so; I shouldbe so frightened to lose you."
"It is not likely that anybody will think of me for some years yet."
"Well, then, promise me not to marry anyone else. In a year's time,then, I shall come and speak to your father. Will you promise?"
"I promise."
"Will you give me a pledge?"
She gave him her hand, but he gently pulled her towards him, claspedher in his arms, and kissed her rosy lips. Then they both went intothe house.