Both the unfortunate Jew and the devil lay motionless on the dam for
a long time. The moon had begun to redden, and was hanging above the
tree-tops as if only waiting to see what the end would be before
setting. A hoarse cock crowed in the village, and a dog yelped twice.
But no other cocks or dogs answered these two; it evidently still
lacked some hours to dawn.
The miller was exhausted, and was already beginning to think it had
all been a dream, especially as the dam now lay wrapped in profoundest
darkness, so that it was impossible to distinguish what the black
object lying upon it was. But when the solitary cock-crow resounded
from the village the dark mass stirred. Yankel raised his head in its
skull-cap, looked about him, got up, and began to steal softly away,
stepping high like a stork with his thin legs, in his stocking-feet.
“Hi, there! Stop him; he’s making off!” the startled miller came near
shouting, but next moment he saw the devil catch Yankel by his long
coat-tails.
“Wait a bit!” Khapun cried. “There’s plenty of time yet. What a hurry
you’re in! Here you are wanting to be off again before I’ve had time to
rest! It’s all right for you, but what about me, who have to drag a big
fellow like you along? I’m nearly dead!”
“Very well, then,” said the Jew, trying to free his coat-tails from the
devil’s grasp. “Rest a little longer, and I’ll walk to my inn on foot.”
The devil jumped up in surprise.
“What’s that you’re saying?” he cried. “Do you think I have hired
myself out to you as a cart to take you home from church, you hound?
You must be joking!”
“Why should I be joking?” asked the wily Yankel, pretending to have
no idea what the Devil wanted with him. “I am very grateful indeed to
you for having brought me so far, and I can now go on quite well by
myself. It is only a short way. I wouldn’t think of troubling you any
more.”
The devil quivered with rage. He ran round and round on the same spot
like a chicken with its head off, and knocked Yankel down with his
wing. He was panting like a blacksmith’s bellows.
“Well, I never!” the miller thought. “I don’t care if it is sin to
admire a devil, I do admire this one; he would never let his lawful
property slip between his fingers, one can see that!”
Yankel sat up and began to yell with all his might. Even the devil
could do nothing to stop him. Every one knows that as long as a Jew has
a breath in his body nothing will make him hold his tongue.
“What does it matter, though?” thought the miller, looking round at his
empty mill. “My man is either amusing himself with the girls or else
lying drunk under a hedge.”
A sleepy frog in the mud answered Yankel’s pitiful screams with a
croak, and a bittern, that foul bird of the night, boomed twice as if
from an empty barrel: boo-oo, boo-oo! The moon had finally sunk behind
the wood, assured that the Jew was dead and done for; darkness had
fallen upon the mill, the dam, and the river, and a white mist had
gathered over the pond.
The devil carelessly shook his wings, and lay down again, saying with a
laugh:
“Scream as loud as you like! The mill is deserted.”
“How do you know it’s deserted?” snapped the Jew, and he began to
scream for the miller.
“Mr. Miller! Oi, Mr. Miller! Golden, silver, diamond Mr. Miller!
Please, please come here for one little tiny second and say three
words, three little tiny words! I’ll make you a present of half the
debt you owe me if you’ll only come!”
“You’ll make me a present of the whole debt!” said a voice in the
miller’s heart.
The Jew stopped screaming, his head sank forward on his breast, and he
burst into a fit of bitter weeping.
Again some time passed. The moon had now set, and its last rays had
died out of the sky. Everything in heaven and on earth seemed wrapped
in the deepest slumber; not a sound could be heard except the Jew’s low
weeping and his exclamations of:
“Oh, my Sarah! Oh, my poor children! My poor little children!”
The devil felt a little rested, and sat up. Although it was dark,
the miller could distinctly see a pair of horns like a young calf’s
outlined against the white mist that hung over the pond.
“He looks just like ours!” thought the miller, feeling as if he had
swallowed something exceedingly cold.
Then he saw the Jew nudge the devil with his elbow.
“What are you nudging me for?” asked Khapun.
“Sh, I want to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Won’t you please tell me why it is your custom always to carry off a
poor Jew? Why don’t you catch a daintier morsel? For instance, there is
an excellent miller living right here.”
The devil sighed deeply. Perhaps he was tired of sitting there on
the edge of the pond by the empty mill; anyhow, he entered into
conversation with the Jew. He raised his skull-cap--you must know that
he wore a skull-cap with long ringlets hanging from underneath it,
just as the servant had described him--and scratched his crown with a
rasping noise like the most savage of cats clawing a board when a mouse
has escaped it. Then he said:
“Alas, Yankel, you don’t know our business! I couldn’t possibly
approach him.”
“And why, may I ask, would you have to take the time to approach him? I
know for myself that you snatched me away before I could even yell.”
The devil laughed so merrily that he actually frightened a night-bird
out of the reeds, and said:
“That’s a fact! You were easy to catch. And do you know why?”
“Why-y?”
“Because you’re a good lusty catcher yourself. I assure you there’s no
other race on earth as sinful as you Jews.”
“Oi, vei, that is most surprising! And what are our sins?”
“Listen and I shall tell you.”
The devil turned to the Jew and began counting on his fingers.
“Number one. You are usurers.”
“One,” repeated Yankel, also counting on his fingers.
“Number two. You live by the blood and sweat of the people.”
“Two.”
“Number three. You sell the people vodka.”
“Three.”
“Number four. You dilute it with water.”
“Oh, let number four go! And what is the next?”
“Are four sins so few? Ah, Yankel, Yankel!”
“Oh, I don’t say four are few, I only say that you don’t know your own
business. Do you think the miller isn’t a usurer, do you think the
miller doesn’t live by the sweat and blood of the people?”
“Come, now, don’t pick at the miller! He’s not that kind of a man--he’s
a Christian. A Christian is supposed to have pity not only on his own
people but on others, too, even on Jews like you. That’s why it’s so
hard for me to catch a Christian.”
“Oi, vei, what a mistake you make there!” cried the Jew gaily. “Here,
let me tell you something----”
He jumped up, and the devil rose too; they stood facing one another.
The Jew whispered something in the devil’s ear, motioning toward some
object behind him under the sycamore tree. He pointed it out to the
devil with his crooked forefinger.
“That’s number one!”
“You’re lying; it can’t be true!” the devil answered, a little
startled, peering toward the trees where Philip was hiding.
“Ha, ha, I know better! Just wait a moment.”
Once more he whispered something, and then said aloud:
“Number two! And this----” again he whispered in the devil’s ear.
“Makes three, as I am an honest Jew!”
The devil shook his head and answered doubtfully:
“It can’t be true.”
“Let’s make a bet. If I am right you shall let me go free when a year
is up, and repay me my losses into the bargain.”
“Ha! I agree. What a joke it would be! Then I should try my power----”
“You’re getting a fine bargain, I can tell you!”
At that moment the cock in the village crowed once more, and although
his voice was so sleepy that again no other bird answered him out of
the silent night, Khapun shuddered.
“Here, what am I standing here gaping at you for while you tell me
tales? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Come along!”
He flapped his wings, flew a few feet along the dam, and once more fell
upon poor Yankel like a hawk, burying his claws in the back of his
shirt, and preparing to take flight.
Alas, how piteously old Yankel screamed, stretching out his arms toward
the village and his native hut, calling his wife and children by name!
“Oi, my Sarah! Oi, Shlemka, Iteley, Movshey! Oi, Mr. Miller, Mr.
Miller! Please, please save me! Say the three words! I see you; there
you are, standing under the sycamore tree. Have pity on a poor Jew! He
has a living soul like you!”
Very, very piteous were poor Yankel’s lamentations! Icy fingers seemed
to clutch the miller’s heart and squeeze it until it ached. The devil
seemed to be waiting for something, his wings fluttered like the wings
of a young bustard that has not learnt to fly. He hovered silently over
the dam with Yankel in his talons.
“What a wretch that devil is!” thought the miller, hiding farther under
the trees. “He is only tormenting the poor Jew. If the cocks should
crow again----”
Hardly had that thought entered his head than the devil laughed till
the wood rang, and suddenly sprang aloft into the sky. The miller
peered upward, but in a few seconds the devil appeared no larger than
a sparrow. Then he glimmered for a moment like a fly, then like a gnat,
and at last disappeared.
Then the miller was seized with genuine terror. His knees knocked
together, his teeth chattered, his hair stood on end so high that, had
he been wearing a hat, it would certainly have been knocked off his
head. He never could say exactly what he did next.
V
Bang--bang!
Bang--bang--bang! Bang--bang!
Some one was knocking so loudly at the door of the mill that the whole
building was filled with noisy echoes that reverberated in every
corner. The miller thought the devil might have come back--he and the
Jew had not whispered together for nothing!--so he only buried his head
under the pillow.
“Bang--bang! Bang--bang! Hey, master, unlock the door!”
“I won’t!”
“And why won’t you?”
The miller raised his head.
“Ah, that sounds like Gavrilo’s voice. Gavrilo, is that you?”
“Who else should it be?”
“Swear that it’s you!”
“What?”
“Swear!”
“All right, then, I swear it’s me. How could I not be myself? And yet
you want me to swear it! There’s a marvel for you!”
Even then the miller wouldn’t believe him. He went upstairs and peeped
out of a window over the door, and there beneath him stood Gavrilo. The
miller was much relieved and went down to open the door.
Gavrilo was actually staggered when the miller appeared in the doorway.
“Why, master, what has happened to you?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Why on earth have you smeared your face all over with flour? You’re as
white as chalk!”
“Didn’t you come across the river?”
“I did.”
“And didn’t you look up?”
“Perhaps.”
“And didn’t you see some one?”
“Who?”
“Who? Fool! The creature that nabbed Yankel the inn-keeper.”
“Who the devil nabbed him?”
“Who, indeed? Why, the Jewish devil, Khapun. Don’t you know what day
this has been?”
Gavrilo looked at the miller with troubled eyes and asked:
“Have you been to the village this evening?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stop at the inn?”
“Yes.”
“Did you drink any gorelka?”
“Bah, what’s the use of talking to a fool? I did have some gorelka at
the priest’s, but all the same I have just seen with my own eyes the
devil resting on the dam with the Jew in his claws.”
“Where?”
“Right there, in the middle of the dam.”
“And what happened next?”
“Well, and then----” the miller whistled and waved his hand in the air.
Gavrilo stared at the dam, scratched his top-knot, and looked up at the
sky.
“There’s a marvel for you! What’ll we do now? How can we get along
without the Jew?”
“Why are you so anxious to have a Jew here, hey?”
“It isn’t only me. One can’t--oh, don’t argue about it, master, things
wouldn’t be the same without a Jew; one couldn’t get along without one.”
“Tut, tut! What a fool you are!”
“What are you scolding me for? I don’t say I’m clever, but I know
millet from buckwheat. I work in the mill, but I drink vodka at the
tavern. Tell me, as you’re so clever, who will be our inn-keeper now?”
“Who?”
“Yes, who?”
“Perhaps I will.”
“You?”
Gavrilo stared at the miller with his eyes starting out of his head.
Then he shook his head, clicked his tongue, and said:
“So, that’s your idea!”
The miller now noticed for the first time that Gavrilo was very
uncertain on his legs and that the lads had given him another black
eye. To tell the truth, the fellow looked so ugly and pale that you
wanted to spit at the sight of him. He was a great hand with the girls,
and the lads had more than once fallen upon him. Whenever they caught
him they were sure to beat him almost to death. Of course it was no
wonder they beat him; the wonder was there was ever anything for which
to do it!
“There is no face in the world so ugly but some girl will fall in love
with it,” thought the miller. “But they love him by threes and fours
and dozens. Ugh! You scarecrow!”
“Come, Gavrilo, boy,” he nevertheless said in a coaxing voice, “come
and sleep with me. When a man has seen what I have he feels a bit
nervous.”
“All right, it’s all the same to me.”
A minute later a certain workman was whistling through his nose. And
let me tell you, I spent the night at the mill once myself, and I have
never heard any one whistle through his nose as Gavrilo did. If a man
didn’t like it he had better not spend the night in the same house
with him or he wouldn’t sleep a wink.
“Gavrilo!” said the miller. “Hey, Gavrilo!”
“Well, then, what is it? If I couldn’t sleep myself at least I wouldn’t
keep others awake!”
“Did they beat you again?”
“What if they did?”
“Where have you been?”
“You want to know everything, don’t you? In Konda.”
“In Konda? Why did you go there?”
“Because! What else do you want to know? Hee, hee, hee!”
“Aren’t there girls enough for you in Novokamensk?”
“Bah! It makes me sick to look at them. There isn’t one there that
suits me.”
“What about Galya, the widow’s daughter?”
“Galya? What do I care about Galya?”
“What, have you been courting her?”
“Of course I have; what do you think?”
The miller flounced over in bed.
“You’re lying, you hound; a plague seize your mother!”
“I’m not lying and I never lie. I leave that to cleverer men than I am.”
Gavrilo yawned and said in a sleepy voice:
“Do you remember, master, how my right eye was so swelled up for a
week that you couldn’t even see it?”
“Well?”
“That devil’s child entertained me by doing that. Confound her, say I!
Galya, indeed!”
“So that’s how things are, is it?” thought the miller. “Gavrilo! Hey,
Gavrilo! Oh, the hound, he’s snoring again--Gavrilo!”
“What _do_ you want? Have you gone crazy?”
“Do you want to get married?”
“I haven’t made my boots yet. When I’ve made my boots I’ll think about
it.”
“But I’d give you boots, and tar for them, and a hat and a belt.”
“Would you? And I’ll tell you something better still.”
“What?”
“That the cocks are already crowing in the village. Can’t you hear them
going it?”
It was true. In the village, perhaps at Galya’s cottage,
a shrill-voiced cock was splitting his throat shouting
“cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” answered other voices from far and near like water
boiling in a kettle, and all the cracks in the wall of the little room
began to gleam white, even down to the tiniest chink.
The miller yawned blissfully.
“Ah, now they are far away!” he thought. “How funny it was! He flew all
the way from the city to my mill while the clock was striking twelve.
Ha, ha, and so Yankel has gone! What a joke! Why, if I should tell it
to any one, they’d call me a liar. But why should I lie? They’ll find
it out for themselves to-morrow. Perhaps I’d better not mention it at
all. They would say I ought to have--but what’s the use of arguing
about it? If I had killed the Jew myself, or anything like that, I
should have been responsible for what happened, but as it is, it
doesn’t concern me at all. What need had I to interfere? Let sleeping
dogs lie, say I. A shut mouth plays safe. They won’t hear anything from
me.”
So Philip the miller reasoned with himself, and tried to ease his
conscience a little. It was only as he was on the verge of falling
asleep that a thought crept out of some recess of his brain like a toad
out of a hole, and that thought was:
“Now, Philip, now’s your time!”
This thought chased all the others out of his mind and took possession
of it.
With it he went to sleep.