"Heavens!" she murmured, speaking to herself. "They are already returning, and the jacket is not done!"
The voices became more and more distinct, the howlings stronger, and in a few minutes a band of individuals of savage aspect burst upon the scene. In the midst of them, and rather better clothed than his companions, a man of herculean figure caught the eye. He was about fifty years of age. His big face was red and swollen by drink, and from under his straw hat, which was tilted backwards on his head, escaped a tangled mass of greyish hair. On his left shoulder was slung his coat, which he had taken off; his right arm, with its powerful muscles displayed by the turned-up sleeve, carried a great pannier filled with provisions. Two of his companions were loaded with heavy sacks full of potatoes, which were hoisted on their shoulders.
"Halloa! Tertschka," cried the man with the basket in a hoarse voice, "give us a light, so that we can put our provisions in the cellar."
As she stood before him his eye fell upon the unfinished jacket, which she held timidly against her breast.
"Well, is it done?" he asked, abruptly.
"Not quite," she replied, in some confusion.
"What, not done yet?" he cried, so fiercely that his face grew purple. "Did I not tell you that I should want it to-morrow?"
"I have worked at it all the afternoon. But I cannot darn it as quickly as someone who has learnt to sew."
The reproach contained in these plaintive words appeared to increase his irritation.
"You have always an answer ready," he cried. "But if at daybreak to-morrow my jacket is not finished, take care of yourself!"
He put down his basket of provisions and strode towards her, menacing her with a terrible gesture. She shrank back from the blow, and at that moment he caught sight of the man in the soldier's coat, who had timidly drawn near.
"Who is this?" he demanded, letting his hand fall.
"He has been sent here to work," replied Tertschka, breathlessly. The overseer, for it was he, drew himself up to his full height and advanced towards the wretched little creature, measuring him from head to foot.
"Bah! to work! The rascal cannot even stand upon his legs."
"I have come a long journey," said the stranger, hesitating. "I have walked here from Otterthal."
"That is a feat, no doubt," sneered the overseer, scanning in the twilight the paper which the young man held out with a shaking hand. "You are called Huber?" he asked, after a pause.
"Yes, George Huber."
"And why do you wear a soldier's uniform?"
"I have been in the army and have been discharged."
"What, you have been in the army?"
"Seven years in the 12th Regiment. I have been dismissed now because I cannot get rid of a bad fever which I caught during the siege of Venice."
"Good Heavens! Fever! This is the last straw! The devil must be in the Government that sends us such fellows. We get nothing but invalids to make stonebreakers of. And then people are astonished that no work is done. As for you," he added, with another threatening gesture, "take care, for if you fail to do your two cart-loads of gravel daily, I shall send you packing. This is not a hospital, remember!"
Thereupon he picked up his basket and, followed by his companions, entered the cabin. Tertschka led the way, holding in her hand a brand lighted at the fire. A door barred with iron led into a sort of grotto hollowed in the rock, in which the provisions were stored. The overseer then retired to rest in an adjacent room; upon which the labourers stretched themselves, yawning, here and there upon the floor, and without troubling themselves about their new comrade, prepared to sleep upon the old straw mattresses which were ranged against the walls.
George all this time stood irresolute by the door. In a few minutes Tertschka came towards him.
"You can sleep there," she said, pointing with her hand to a vacant place.
He obeyed her awkwardly, screwing himself together so as to take up as little space as possible. After making a pillow of his sack and covering himself with his old coat which he had taken off, he uttered a great sigh of weariness and composed himself to sleep. Tertschka lighted a little lamp, and crouching down by the fire began to sew with feverish haste. When she had finished her work, she extinguished the smoky flame, and stretched herself, dressed as she was, in a corner near the chimney.
Outside, the night was blue and balmy—a
