"Take away your load of stones, you gallows-bird! then pack, and be off. If ever I catch you prowling about here again, I will break every bone in your body!"
He kicked the poor fellow as he raised himself painfully; then following him to his cart, he drove him to the road with blows.
Then he came back and glared at Tertschka with a ferocious glance of hatred. "As for you," he said, "we will settle our account by-and-by."
Muttering and growling to himself, he strode away.
Stunned and blinded by the shock, George had rejoined his comrades. He emptied his cart mechanically, and sitting down upon a stone, gazed before him with thoughts far away. Since the morning the day had become dull and the sky covered with clouds. A biting autumn wind whistled in the tops of the pine trees. Suddenly the rain came down. But George never felt the icy drops which beat upon his face. Sparks danced before his eyes, and a shiver ran through his frame. Shame at the treatment he had undergone, mixed with the burning injustice which Tertschka, as well as himself, was enduring, brought the angry blood to his face. And now he was dismissed—separated from Tertschka—from that which was to him the most precious thing in all the world. The more he reflected, the more his shame and rage increased. His timid and patient nature was stung to revolt, and he felt within him a new-born strength to struggle, to resist, to conquer any obstacles which should rise to separate him from his betrothed. Gradually his dejected countenance assumed a terrible expression, and his eyes shone with a strange lustre.
He rose and took his way towards the little hill where Tertschka worked. His companions eyed him curiously. He found Tertschka sitting on the ground in tears.
"Do not weep, Resi," he said. His voice was calm and gentle, but singularly grave. She made no reply. He came to her side, and raised her head. Her sobs grew more violent.
"Do not weep," he repeated. "It was all for the best; we now know what we have to do."
She looked straight before her.
"You will come with me when I go away?"
She shook her head slowly.
"I shall try to obtain the post of crossing-keeper, which is given, I believe, to soldiers who have served during the war. You shall be my wife, and we will live in one of the little cottages beside the line. And if I fail in that," he added quickly, seeing that she made no sign of consent, and that her sobs redoubled—"if I cannot obtain this post—we will work for years with all our strength, and economize as much as possible. But, Resi, speak—tell me that you consent! Answer me!"
"Alas!" she moaned, "all that you say is Paradise, but you are not thinking of the overseer. He will never let me go."
"He cannot prevent you. You are no longer a child. He has no hold upon you, none. You are a worker like ourselves. You are free to come and go at your pleasure."
"Believe me, he will not let me go, and above all with you. I have never told you,' she replied, after a pause, whilst a crimson flush of anger dyed her face, "but he killed my mother with his cruelty. I told him at the time what I thought of him. Ever since that day he has hated me like poison, and never loses an occasion to revenge himself upon me."
George grew pale to the lips. He seemed as if he were choking.
"The scoundrel!" he cried. "At any cost you must come with me, and we shall see if he will prevent you from going."
"Be careful," she cried, in alarm. "He is quite capable of killing any being too feeble to defend itself."
"I do not fear him," said George, his small stature dilating. "He took me at a disadvantage before, but now let him come!"
"Madonna!" she moaned, wringing her hands in agony. "You must not fight! I cannot bear it."
"No, no, it will not come to that," he replied, striving to appear calm. "First of all we will tell him our decision, and you will see that he will say nothing. Coward that he is, he will be forced to acknowledge that he has no hold upon you, and that you are free. Take courage, Resi," he added, gravely. "Would you let me go away alone?"
For answer she sprang towards him, and clung tightly round his neck.
"Now we will go and find him," he said, stroking her hair gently. They went slowly towards the cabin, Tertschka in a tumult of alarm, George dignified and perfectly calm. When they reached the cabin, they found the overseer, knife in hand, seated before the table, peeling potatoes. He started on perceiving the two young people, but his surprise soon changed into a sort of frenzy.
