DOROTHEA GERARD
 
 86 5
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 ONE YEAR 
 
 LADY BABY 
 
 THE CONQUEST OF LONDON
 
 T 1 1 E 
 
 SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ^ ROT 
 
 NEW 
 
 CO. 
 
 arij ni bariiBaiw ,miri atotecJ aurfa Jsa 3/ig zA 
 83VB3l aniv lo nohfijimi ^zmijl-,' I absm 
 
 B noqu gaisloo! sd
 
 jefore him, wreathed in the trails 
 that made a sort of clumsy imitation of vine leaves, he 
 seemed to be looking upon a Bacchante." Page 78.
 
 THE 
 
 SUPREME CRIME 
 
 BY 
 
 DOROTHEA GERARD 
 
 (MADAME LONGARD DE LONGGARDE) 
 
 DER SCHLIMMSTK WURM, DES ZWEIPELS DOLCHGEDANKEN ' 
 
 HEINE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 1901 
 
 .
 
 Edinburgh : T. and A. CONSTACLK, (late) Printers to Her Majesty
 
 NOTE 
 
 FOR the enlightenment of English readers little 
 acquainted with the religious customs of Eastern 
 Europe, it is as well to point out, at the beginning 
 of this story of Ruthenian life in Austria, that the 
 representatives of this class belong to the branch 
 of the Greek Church united to Rome, in which 
 matrimony, although not absolutely obligatory 
 for the clergy, is the almost universal condition. 
 An aspirant not married at his ordination must 
 be celibate for life a rule which results in all 
 Ruthenian priests, with very rare exceptions, 
 being married men. 
 
 2229093
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 /^REGOR PETROW settled his cravat before 
 v_T the little glass on the wall, looking at 
 himself critically the while. What he saw there 
 was a young, narrow, rather hollow-cheeked face, 
 above which the reddish fair hair showed an in- 
 clination to stand up. The eyes were of a clear, 
 transparent blue, and a trifle too wide open, 
 which, in conjunction with the upright hair, gave 
 him a slightly startled expression. About the 
 large, mobile, and well-shaped mouth there was 
 a suggestion of harshness, corrected by something 
 sunny in the depth of those transparent blue eyes 
 the eyes of a boy who has not yet done wondering 
 at the place he finds himself in. A fine young 
 fellow, taken all in all, despite a slight stoop in the 
 shoulders, and with the hand and foot of a woman 
 delicate, narrow, and yet strongly moulded. 
 
 But the picture did not please him ; with a sigh of 
 discouragement he turned from the glass and made 
 a few irresolute steps about the room. It was a 
 small, low apartment, with white-washed walls, a 
 brick stove in one corner, and a mud floor ; for 
 furniture a cast-iron bedstead, a deal table, and a 
 A
 
 2 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 bench on which lay a cushion stuffed with maize 
 straw, and which did duty as sofa. But for the 
 primitive book-shelf on the wall, and the absence of 
 chickens and pigs, it might have passed for an ex- 
 ceptionally clean peasant room. Both the small 
 windows were wide open on to the village street. 
 Gregor Petrow stopped beside one of them, and with 
 widened nostrils drank in the syringa scent which 
 the spring air carried in with it, for this was May, 
 and straight opposite there grew a tall syringa bush 
 which leaned as impetuously over the wicker-work 
 paling as though bent upon casting itself down into 
 the road. Beetles on the wing skimmed past, with 
 open-beaked swallows hard on their trail. The air 
 was full of minute, floating things, such as the petals 
 of overblown flowers, tiny seedlings, and almost 
 invisible clouds of green or yellow pollen, which the 
 breeze was conveying about the country as is its 
 mission during this busiest of Nature's seasons. 
 
 Gregor Petrow's brow cleared as he stood there 
 gazing before him, and when he turned from the 
 window it was with a more resolute movement, as 
 though the syringa scent had been a strong wine, 
 drowning the doubts which, a minute before, still 
 disturbed him. He went back again to the glass 
 and finished settling his cravat, gave one touch of 
 the brush to his black Sunday coat (and yet this 
 was Wednesday), and, picking up his best hat, left 
 the house with the step of a man whose mind is 
 made up. 
 
 It was the hour at which the cows were being
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 3 
 
 driven home from pasture, and Gregor was scarcely 
 out in the narrow lane which did duty as street, 
 before he had to range himself against the 
 wattled paling, in order to save his only decent 
 pair of trousers from being unduly spattered. As a 
 rule his attire was the thing in the world which 
 occupied him the least, but this was a solemn 
 occasion, and it would not do to present himself 
 before the Pope (parish priest) in soiled garments. 
 The disadvantage of these pauses in his progress 
 was that it exposed him helpless to the attacks of 
 the small cowherds, who could not think of letting 
 slip so good an opportunity of kissing somebody's 
 hand. A monotonous ceremony this, and a slightly 
 grimy one ; but Gregor bore it with an equanimity 
 which at moments looked like pleasure. Sometimes, 
 at the sight of some familiar shaggy head, the light 
 which dwelt at the back of his blue eyes would look 
 out suddenly, and the way in which his severe mouth 
 relaxed in answering to each separate ' 'Slawas ' 
 (greeting) spoke of the existence of some bond 
 between the fair-haired youth and the ragged 
 urchins. 
 
 At last he was free of the lane and out on a green 
 common sprinkled with white geese, where hobbled 
 horses were patiently grazing, and round which the 
 huts squatted in an irregular circle, each with a few 
 apple-trees beside it, in full blossom at this moment, 
 and giving the impression of a huge, straggly white 
 wreath. Just now it was a picture painted almost 
 entirely in green and white, for the birchwood which
 
 4 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 stood up to the very edge of the common was in its 
 first and most vivid leaf. Only the blue of the 
 mountain line to the west contrasted with the 
 universal tints. 
 
 At one spot it was the spot where stood the 
 only building that was not a hut the white wreath 
 seemed to thicken to a knot, and towards that point 
 Gregor took his direction, following the cart-track 
 two ribbons of dust divided by a rib of green, where 
 the grass grew obstinately between the marks of the 
 wheels. Gregor's hand shook slightly as he pushed 
 open the wooden gate which stood hospitably ajar. 
 The wave of perfume which met him inside was 
 almost overpowering, for the house barely looked 
 out of a tangle of lilac bushes, and on the grass plot 
 before it narcissus and lily of the valley, in full 
 prime, ran riot at their sweet pleasure. Hens and 
 ducks walked about, also at their pleasure, and at 
 Gregor's approach a pig fled squealing round the 
 corner, for the garden melted indefinitely into the 
 farm-yard, and that again into an ancient orchard, 
 where more moss grew on the trunks than fruit on 
 the branches. 
 
 A small wooden porch, jutting out right into the 
 sea of lilac blossoms, formed the entrance, and 
 having mounted the five or six steps which led to 
 it, Gregor found himself abruptly in presence of the 
 eldest daughter of the house. She was busy gather- 
 ing a bunch of lilacs she had only to lean over the 
 wooden balustrade to do so and at sound of his step 
 turned round in the very act of breaking a branch.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 5 
 
 ' Panna Zenobia ! ' said Gregor, in sudden con- 
 fusion, for he had not counted on finding himself 
 alone with her it did not fit into his programme. 
 
 The girl evidently was as surprised as he, though 
 she did not speak at once. It would have been 
 difficult to tell her age, as is usually the case with 
 very dark women, but in reality she was scarcely 
 twenty. Perhaps it would have been almost as 
 difficult to decide whether she was handsome or 
 plain. To an eye unused to the physiognomies of 
 the country, the Semitic strain would probably 
 have appeared too pronounced to be agreeable, for 
 her mother was of Armenian blood, and Zenobia 
 Mostewicz undoubtedly showed a reversal to the 
 Armenian type. The first flush of surprise once 
 passed it became clear that her rather long face was 
 habitually pale, with that sort of opaque pallor 
 which is peculiar to some orientals. The eyes were 
 long, and dark, and seldom quite open, as though 
 the eyelids were too heavy to be completely raised. 
 A certain heaviness altogether marked the features 
 which yet were almost quite regular. Her magni- 
 ficent coal-black hair was of the sleek, shiny order, 
 and her thick eye-brows almost met at the root of a 
 well-cut nose. With this an almost majestic stature, 
 and a fine, supple figure, carried somewhat too 
 languidly. 
 
 ' Can I speak to the Pope ? ' asked Gregor, rather 
 precipitately, after a moment's pause. 
 
 ' My father is not yet back, but my mother is at 
 home.'
 
 6 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 From under her heavy eyelids she had, before 
 answering, thrown a wonderfully rapid glance at his 
 holiday attire. 
 
 ' No, thank you, I will not disturb the Popadia ' 
 (the usual designation for a priest's wife), said 
 Gregor, if possible more precipitately. 
 
 ' I forgot, you could not speak to her now, at any 
 rate ; she is busy, arranging about Jerena Rylko's 
 marriage, I believe.' 
 
 ' I will not disturb her. Where are you going to 
 put these flowers ? ' 
 
 ' I meant them for the Matka Boska (Mother of 
 God), in the orchard. It is her month, you know.' 
 
 ' Are you going to take them there now ? ' 
 
 She looked at him again furtively, and did not 
 answer at once. It was evident that if she took the 
 flowers to the orchard, he would accompany her, 
 and there seemed to be something disturbing in the 
 thought. From him her eyes wandered down to the 
 garden and fell straight upon the identical pig which 
 had fled at Gregor's arrival, now flying back round 
 the corner, followed by two girls in short frocks, 
 whose stockings were half-way down their bare legs. 
 Zenobia's face cleared ; the problem was solved. 
 
 ' Yes, I shall take the flowers. Wasylya, Paraska ! ' 
 she called over the balustrade. ' Come and help me 
 to carry the flowers to the Matka Boska ! We shall 
 just have time before supper.' 
 
 With a shriek of delight Wasylya and Paraska 
 complied, to the evident relief of the pig, who returned, 
 grunting, to his revels in the onion beds. They were
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 7 
 
 two black-haired brats of respectively ten and thirteen 
 years of age, with dancing black eyes, vividly pink 
 cheeks, and cotton frocks which ought to have been 
 in the wash at least three days ago. Wasylya, the 
 elder of the two, had stuck a row of narcissus into 
 her dense black hair, hooked two small twigs of lilac 
 over her ears in the guise of somewhat barbarous 
 earrings, and hung a necklace of pansies round her 
 neck. She seemed in high spirits at her artistic 
 invention. 
 
 'You must take these off,' said the elder sister 
 severely, as the two girls having first lustily fought 
 for the biggest bunch to carry they were crossing 
 the yard towards the orchard. ' You cannot go to 
 the Matka Boska in these ridiculous ornaments.' 
 
 ' Ridiculous ornaments ! ' echoed Wasylya in shrill- 
 toned indignation. ' What is there ridiculous about 
 narcissus and lilac ? You don't find them ridiculous 
 in the garden ? ' 
 
 ' But on your head, I do. You would not go to 
 church like that on Sunday, would you?' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; and yet I know they look well 
 there. All right ! ' she laughed gaily, ' I '11 throw 
 them to the ducks, and gather new ones after 
 supper ! ' And gleefully pulling off her flower 
 necklace she shied it at a passing hen. 
 
 It was clear that the orchard had not always 
 been an orchard ; the stone urn standing under 
 an apple-tree, with a pair of stone legs beside it 
 which had probably once belonged to a weeping 
 angel, a mouldy cross aslant, and a fragment of
 
 8 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 iron railing which, just visible above the nettles, 
 leaned in one corner all this, together with the 
 slightly undulating surface of the ground, was enough 
 to point out its original destination. But the thought 
 of the bones mouldering underfoot never seemed 
 to spoil anybody's appetite for the pears and apples 
 growing overhead. 
 
 'There is a good show of blossoms this year,' 
 said Gregor, looking up at the dense canopy, and 
 rather at a loss for a subject of conversation. 
 
 Zenobia made some indifferent answer and walked 
 on straight in front of him along the narrow path. 
 He gazed at the back of her head, and in the 
 nervousness of the moment the amber shades at the 
 roots of her black hair seemed to touch his imagina- 
 tion as they had never done before. He did not 
 know whether to be provoked or glad at the presence 
 of the two younger sisters ; with them away he felt 
 almost certain that he would at that moment, and 
 quite contrary to his original resolution, have put his 
 fate to the touch, but with Wasylya and Paraska 
 flying backwards and forwards across the path, 
 throwing their hats over beetles and butterflies 
 and making ineffectual grabs at their limp garters, 
 everything but commonplaces became an impos- 
 sibility.. 
 
 The Matka Boska herself was obviously a former 
 grave monument, though all that remained legible 
 of the inscription on the battered pillar on which 
 she stood was the date of some forty years back. 
 Zenobia began to pull off the faded lilacs of yesterday,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 9 
 
 which festooned the pillar, and Gregor coming to her 
 assistance it happened not unnaturally that their 
 bare hands more than once came in contact, at which 
 moments he was astonished to see her shiver and 
 draw her black brows together, as though in pain ; 
 was he then so disagreeable to her? A bad prospect 
 for his errand of to-day. 
 
 When the flowers had been arranged there was 
 a pause. 
 
 ' I think we ought to say a prayer,' said Zenobia 
 at last, a little diffidently. 
 
 ' Very well ; but who is to say it ? ' 
 
 ' You, I think ; you are accustomed to pray with 
 the children in the school.' 
 
 ' I ? ' he hesitated. ' Very well, I will say it ' ; and 
 as they all knelt down on the short grass, he folded 
 his hands as simply as a child might have done and 
 spoke the ' Our Father ' in a slightly tremulous but 
 wonderfully melodious voice, and in that accent in 
 which it is too seldom heard the accent of deep 
 conviction. The thought that this day was to be a 
 turning-point in his life put an earnestness into his 
 appeal for help which moved even the two children, 
 who, as the little congregation again stood up, 
 measured him with awe-stricken glances, just as 
 though they had discovered a new person. 
 
 No one had spoken yet when a shrill call was 
 heard from the house. 
 
 ' The Mamusia (little mother) is calling us to 
 supper ! ' said Paraska, racing off, while Wasylya 
 lingered to pick up the remains of the flowers, with
 
 io THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 which she immediately began to replace the necklace 
 and earrings recently discarded. 
 
 On the doorstep of the back entrance which faced 
 towards the orchard stood a long, lean woman in 
 a dirty dressing-jacket Her face could be called 
 either dark-yellow or light-brown, according to 
 individual opinion, and presented a large amount 
 of tough, leathery surface. She had a haggard, tired- 
 looking appearance, and the quick-moving eyes of 
 a person on whose shoulders rest many cares. Just 
 at present she was pulling violently at the buttons 
 of her dressing-jacket no wonder that there were 
 only two remaining from which symptom Zenobia 
 knew that her mother was in a temper. 
 
 ' Ah, Gregor Petrow ! ' she said, in an unpleasantly 
 rasping voice ; ' so you have remembered that we 
 are still alive ? That 's right ! ' But she said it as 
 though it were all wrong. ' The Pope will be glad 
 to see you,' she added, about as sweetly as though 
 she were swallowing a spoonful of vinegar. 
 
 ' Is the Pope come home ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, he is home,' and, with a new contraction of 
 her sunken chin, she led the way into the house.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IN a low-ceilinged room, whose windows even by 
 day were darkened by the lilac bushes, a petro- 
 leum lamp was already burning, and the frugal even- 
 ing fare spread the kolesha of the country (a sort 
 of maize porridge), supplemented by a tureen-full of 
 sour cream. Father Nikodem, whose appetite, brought 
 back from the afternoon's excursion, would brook no 
 delay, was hard at work already. He was a big, 
 stout man, as dark as the rest of the family, with 
 black hair sprinkled in pepper and salt style, and 
 whose almost perfectly round face was supplemented 
 by a handsome double chin. The eyes were likewise 
 quite round, and set in such thick lashes that when 
 he turned them suddenly upon a person they gave 
 the impression of being touched up with charcoal. 
 His parishioners approved of him, not because he 
 was one of those good average priests who, un- 
 hampered by higher ideals, fulfil their duties in a 
 punctual, business-like fashion, but because he talked 
 and laughed loudly, told good stories, even during 
 his sermons, and made the bargaining about the 
 price of a funeral or a wedding an almost amusing, 
 if unprofitable, practice. In the very tone in which 
 
 u
 
 12 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 he boisterously welcomed Gregor to his board the 
 whole man was reflected, a coarse-grained but genuine 
 nature ; and, indeed, the jovial Pope never looked 
 more in place than when receiving a guest on his 
 doorstep, or filling his glass at table. Whatever 
 cause had cast a gloom upon the Popadia's humour 
 had obviously had no effect upon his, or rather had 
 produced a contrary one. From the first moment it 
 had been evident that some joke was tickling him 
 vastly, which nothing but the warning glances of his 
 wife kept him from making public but not for long. 
 The company had been eating kolesha for hardly 
 three minutes when the Pope exploded, unfortunately 
 just as he was in the act of ladling another spoonful 
 of cream into his ample mouth. 
 
 'It's no use, Justina, it's no use!' he gasped, 
 wiping the traces of the catastrophe from the breast 
 of his black soutane. ' It won't be suppressed. To 
 keep it from Gregor Petrow would be to cheat him 
 of a good story, and that 's a thing which has always 
 gone against my conscience ; just think how precious 
 an honest laugh is in this valley of tears ! ' 
 
 ' I don't see anything good in the story,' said the 
 Popadia, savagely hacking at her kolesha. 'And how 
 a priest of God can find pleasure in exposing himself 
 to ridicule ' 
 
 Father Nikodem made a funny grimace. ' If 
 priests of God did nothing worse than that But 
 there! let Gregor Petrow judge for himself! You 
 must know' and he turned his round, merry eyes 
 upon his guest 'that Mitru Skribnek was buried
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 13 
 
 this afternoon.' He laughed again till he choked, 
 as though the fact mentioned were quite irresistibly 
 comical. ' He had fifteen head of cattle, so not un- 
 naturally we counted on getting something hand- 
 some for the funeral. Yesterday Jurko Skribnek 
 was here to settle matters, and it was Justina there 
 who undertook to speak to him. She's a far better 
 hand at it generally than I am generally, I say, but 
 not always.' The Pope winked across knowingly at 
 his wife's gloomy face. ' Well, Justina had taken it 
 into her head that, all things considered, we had a 
 right to expect the best price ever to be had, so 
 naturally she began by asking fifty florins, while 
 they started off with fifteen, At the end of an hour 
 they had got no nearer than twenty, while Justina 
 had come down to forty. There the matter stuck. 
 " If the Pope can't come and fetch him for less, then 
 we shan't trouble him to come so far," said Jurko, 
 who always was one of your pert ones for answering. 
 " We shall be content if he meets us in the church- 
 yard and seals up the grave ; he 's bound to do that, 
 and, of course, we '11 pay him the regulation tax." 
 
 ' Upon this they went, and Justina let them go, 
 never doubting to see them back again. Was it 
 likely that a family with fifteen cows would let their 
 head be carried to his grave without candles and 
 song ? A mere sealing-up is what the very pauper 
 gets. But yesterday evening passed, and so did this 
 morning, and by midday Justina began to grow 
 seriously restless. " Fifty florins is a fine thing," she 
 said to me at last, " but twenty florins is better than
 
 H THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 nothing. It almost seems as though these godless 
 people were going to stick by their word." " So it 
 does," I said ; " and I Ve often thought that you 're 
 apt to hang the basket a bit too high ; but it 's too 
 late now to make an outcry." " I don't know about 
 that," said Justina she's got a wonderfully inventive 
 mind, you know " I fancy something might be done 
 yet. I Ve got an idea, Nikodem. They can't have 
 got him to the village yet, and no doubt they would 
 be glad of a chance of making up matters, but they 
 just don't know how to begin. We've got some 
 potatoes in that direction it 's a fine day suppos- 
 ing you were to go over and have a look at those 
 potatoes. You '11 take the little cart, of course, as 
 two miles is a good bit to walk, and if you put your 
 vestment at the bottom, who is to be the wiser ? It 
 may very well chance that you meet the corpse on 
 the way, and if you don't manage to put matters 
 right then, why, you're not worthy the name of 
 Pope." 
 
 ' Well, the plan struck me as grand, and off I went 
 in the cart, my vestments well buried in the straw. 
 And up to a certain point it all happened exactly as 
 Justina had foreseen. Just a quarter of a mile before 
 the hut I met the funeral procession, and scarcely 
 had they caught sight of me than I saw them con- 
 sulting, and finally standing still. " Good-afternoon 
 to you, Pope," they say, in quite a friendly way. 
 " You seem in a hurry ? " " In no special hurry," I 
 reply, chuckling with satisfaction as I think of that 
 chasuble in the straw, and blessing Justina's fore-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 15 
 
 sight. " I 'm just having a look at my potatoes over 
 there ; they tell me they 're late in coming up." 
 
 ' " They are a bit late," says Jurko Skribnek ; " but 
 if you 're in no hurry you '11 take a mouthful of wodki 
 before going farther, won't you ? " 
 
 '"If it please you," I say, seeming to feel those 
 twenty florins in my pocket already. 
 
 ' I drank one glass, I drank two glasses, I 'm not 
 sure that I didn't drink a third and a fourth ; we 
 talked of the potatoes, of the maize, of the apples, 
 but never a word of the funeral so far. I was begin- 
 ning to feel just a little queer, but I kept saying to 
 myself, It must be coming, why else should they 
 have stopped me ? It was not until the bottle had 
 gone round several times that Jurko seemed to 
 remember what they were there for. 
 
 1 " Well, Pope," he says, hammering the cork down 
 with his fist, "I fancy that we've all had about 
 enough. If you take much more you won't be able 
 to reach your potatoes, and even if you do get there 
 you '11 see two growing for every one there is ; and 
 if we take much more we '11 as likely as not tumble 
 into the grave when we get there. And your time 
 for getting there and back is short, too, for remember, 
 you 've promised to seal up the grave for us." 
 
 ' That was all ; in another minute I was alone on 
 the road ; and all I regret is that I had not got a 
 pocket mirror with me, for my face must have been 
 a sight to see. It's a bitter thing to lose twenty 
 florins through trying to get fifty, but the devil take 
 me if I can help laughing at the trick they played
 
 1 6 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 me ! Justina there can't see the joke at all ; and it 's 
 true that the new carpet she had meant to buy is 
 gone with those fifty florins ; you can't buy a carpet 
 for two florins, I suppose, and that 's what the sealing- 
 up brought me : fifty kreutzers for the incense, and 
 fifty kreutzers for the chanting, and so on according 
 to the tax. There are the fruits of my afternoon ! ' 
 And throwing the loose coins on to the table, the 
 Pope leant back again, gently shaking with laughter. 
 The two younger girls, infected by their father's 
 mirth, shrieked a delighted chorus, while Zenobia's 
 dark, serious face betrayed by its pre-occupation that 
 her thoughts had been elsewhere. 
 
 Gregor, too, had lent but half an ear, but in that 
 which he had heard, and in spite of his mind being 
 of quite a different fibre from that of Father Niko- 
 dem's, there was nothing which directly offended 
 him. The chronic bargaining between Pope and 
 parishioners was a thing far too familiar to disturb 
 him seriously ; it was one of the conditions of life, 
 just as rain and sunshine are conditions, and although 
 of a distinctly religious turn of mind, to imagine a 
 state of things in which this element was absent had 
 not yet come to him. Popes have to live as well as 
 other people, and to bring up their families, which, 
 by a special dispensation of Providence, are usually 
 more numerous than those of other people, and, the 
 government provisions being a mockery, it naturally 
 follows that each wedding and funeral becomes, in 
 the first place, a business transaction. Gregor also 
 knew that this particular Pope was not nearly so
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 17 
 
 black as the story just told appeared to paint him, 
 and that, while making as good bargains of his duties 
 as circumstances permitted, he yet fulfilled them 
 conscientiously. Despite his business-like shrewd- 
 ness, his heart was anything but hard nor his hand 
 close ; many a kindly act could the village tell of 
 him. But as for letting down his charges for his 
 priestly functions, even one florin below what he felt 
 to be his due, such a thing never occurred to him. 
 Of these contests, custom had made a species of 
 legalised sport, a constant trial of strength between 
 him and his parishioners, which he could not think 
 of missing, and which gave a certain zest to an 
 otherwise monotonous existence. True, it was the 
 Popadia who usually began the transaction, not only 
 because she had an almost superior talent in this 
 direction, but also because some fragment of tradi- 
 tional etiquette demanded that a third person should 
 intervene between the priest and the parishioner ; but 
 it was rare that any word of interest should escape 
 him, and not infrequently, at the hottest moment of 
 the debate, the door beside which he had been lend- 
 ing an attentive ear would burst open, and his last 
 clinching word to the bargain be successfully put in. 
 
 Gregor knew all this, and yet smiled at the con- 
 clusion of the narrative, as though he had heard 
 something merely amusing. His thoughts were 
 anxiously bent in another direction. 
 
 ' Can I speak to you alone ? ' he asked in a low 
 voice, as the company rose from table, and while the 
 Popadia was carefully collecting the remains of the 
 B
 
 1 8 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 kolesha, presumably for the hens' breakfast next 
 morning. 
 
 Father Nikodem, growing suddenly grave, looked 
 at him keenly, and something like understanding 
 flashed up in his black eyes. 
 
 ' Come in here/ he said shortly, opening a door 
 close beside which they stood.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THIS room was smaller and almost quite dark 
 when they entered it. During the minute which 
 passed while the Pope, still in silence, groped for the 
 matches, Gregor had time to decide what his first 
 words should be. These words were ready even before 
 two candles, on a large table much spotted with ink, 
 had been kindled, but even after the Pope had said 
 in a distinctly encouraging tone of voice : ' Sit down, 
 my son,' they refused to cross his lips. 
 
 ' Is it I who am to begin, or you ? ' asked his host 
 at last, occupied in kindling some vile -smelling 
 tobacco in the bowl of his cherry wood pipe. 
 
 ' I fear you may think me preposterous ' 
 
 ' If I ask leave to pay my addresses to your 
 daughter,' finished the Pope, forcing his deep baritone 
 voice into an imitation of Gregor's higher tones. 
 c Don't open your eyes wider than they are by nature. 
 Have I hit it off or not? It's Zenia you're after, 
 aren't you ? I 'm always for taking the shortest road 
 everywhere.' 
 
 'ItcertainlyisPannaZenobiawhomlhadhoped ' 
 
 'To call my own some day; that's it, isn't it? 
 And you ask me whether I think you presumptuous ? 
 
 19
 
 20 
 
 I should rather think I do as confoundedly pre- 
 sumptuous as people only succeed in being at your 
 age. How could you for a moment suppose 
 that I could give my daughter to a village school- 
 master?' 
 
 Gregor listened aghast, but also puzzled, for there 
 was that in the Pope's merry black eyes which seemed 
 to belie the harshness of the words. 
 
 'And you're not only presumptuous, you're also 
 improvident. What do you propose to live on ? 
 Your twenty-five florins a month? Perhaps you 
 expect me to give a portion with my daughter ? It 
 will have to be a confoundedly small one, so long 
 as we are all alive.' 
 
 ' I had not thought of the portion,' said Gregor, 
 reddening. 
 
 ' Shows you 're more of a fool than I took you 
 for. You expected to live on baked air, I sup- 
 pose ; it 's a fare that some lovers manage on for a 
 time. Tell me, Gregor Petrow, are you fond of the 
 girl?' 
 
 ' I yes ; I would not think of marrying her if I 
 did not esteem her highly.' 
 
 ' Esteem ? Hem and yet no thought of a portion, 
 really it's beyond me how you came to think of 
 marrying her at all.' 
 
 'Then I must consider myself rejected?' said 
 Gregor, after a moment's silence, and making an 
 ineffectual effort to rise. 
 
 ' Sit still ! ' growled the Pope through the clouds 
 of tobacco smoke which enveloped him. ' Where 's
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 21 
 
 the hurry ? I 'm not inclined to move so soon after 
 supper, and politeness would demand of me to show 
 you to the door. It's a very bad habit to jump 
 to conclusions. Who told you you were rejected ? 
 What I said was that I could not give my daughter 
 to a village schoolmaster.' 
 
 ' Well, but since I am ' 
 
 ' You are, you are ; but must one always be what 
 one is ? You weren't born as a schoolmaster, were 
 you ? and need you die as one ? ' 
 
 Gregor stared uncomprehendingly ; his wide-open 
 eyes and upright hair giving to his puzzled counten- 
 ance so unique an expression of astonishment that 
 the Pope, tickled by the spectacle, felt half inclined 
 to prolong the torture. 
 
 ' No doubt your profession is a most honourable 
 one, but no one can assert of it that it feeds its men 
 fat ; your own countenance is enough to knock that 
 idea down flat. At twenty-one no man has a right 
 to have such shadows under his cheek-bones, and 
 do you think I want to see such dark blotches 
 under Zenia's eyes ? But there, I dare say you 've had 
 enough of it by now ; let 's talk seriously, my son. 
 You have not surprised me, Gregor Petrow, I Ve seen 
 this coming ; and that which I am going to say to 
 you now, I have had it ready to say to you for weeks 
 past. From the moment I began to perceive that 
 you and Zenia seemed to be drawing together, I set 
 to ask myself how it could be possible to arrange the 
 thing for I like you, my son I may as well tell 
 you so at once, and I wish all my girls had a chance
 
 22 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 of as good husbands as Zenia seems to have. To let 
 her marry a schoolmaster is out of the question, but 
 if you could make yourself into some one else there 
 is no saying what might happen.' 
 
 ' Make myself into some one else?' 
 
 'Yes ; it's much simpler than it sounds, especially 
 if one happens to have a leaning for books, such 
 as you have. Now, listen to my plan. Instead 
 of paying your addresses to Zenia, you say good- 
 bye to her for a time, and pack yourself straight 
 off to the seminary at Lemberg. The studies will 
 take you four years, but at your age one can 
 manage to give up four years, and at the end 
 of that time you have only to come back and 
 fetch Zenia, and you will be all ready to take 
 orders. She too can afford those four years, since 
 she is only nineteen.' 
 
 ' A priest ? /, a priest ? ' said Gregor, half starting 
 from his chair, and with eyes which had grown 
 suddenly wild with astonishment. 
 
 ' Yes ; why do you stare as though I were pro- 
 posing to you to become a highwayman ? Can you 
 give me a valid reason why you shouldn't be a priest 
 just as well as dozens of other youngsters who 
 haven't got half your steadiness and industry? 
 Positively it seems to me your only chance of ever 
 getting out of the school-house and of having at least 
 enough kolesha to eat. I don't say it's a brilliant 
 prospect the beginning especially is hard I 've 
 been through it all myself, but unless you 're as 
 blessed with children as I was, and if you learn to
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 23 
 
 work the fees properly and I can give you a few 
 hints in that direction there will always at least be 
 kolesha. You would have a good figure for a vest- 
 ment, if you could learn to hold yourself straighter 
 and the people like a priest who can be seen 
 above the heads of the front rows and you've 
 got a good tenor voice which they'll train at the 
 seminary, and which will make a grand effect at 
 High Mass.' 
 
 Gregor had sunk back into his chair, listening 
 breathlessly, and still astonished to the point of con- 
 sternation. 
 
 ' But I cannot I have never thought of it before,' 
 he stammered, pale with excitement. 
 
 ' Haven't I told you that there is plenty of time to 
 think of it now ? ' said the Pope, a trifle impatiently. 
 ' I know several parish priests who at your age had 
 not thought of it either. Out with it now. What 's 
 your opinion of my plan ? ' 
 
 ' It 's impossible ; I have not the means for the 
 studies.' 
 
 ' But I have ; and if I choose to go to the expense 
 of procuring for my daughter the sort of husband I 
 approve of a son-in-law who will not be likely to 
 send her back to me because he cannot feed her 
 then I should like to know what objection you can 
 possibly make ? You '11 pay me back in time, no 
 doubt, and in the meantime the money I advance 
 will stand in place of the portion which it would be 
 far more inconvenient for me to give.' 
 
 ' But could I accept ? ' said Gregor doubtfully.
 
 24 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' If you could not, then we have been wasting 
 our time, and I can only go back to what I 
 said at the beginning of our talk : I cannot 
 give my daughter to a village schoolmaster. And 
 now, Gregor Petrow, if we end here it won't be 
 my fault.' 
 
 Under the Pope's shrewd gaze the young man 
 had sunk his face into his hands, and sat thus for a 
 minute, beaten upon by a flood of emotions which 
 made clear thought impossible. 
 
 'There is nothing so alarming about the idea as 
 seems to you just at first,' the Pope's voice was heard 
 saying rather more gently. ' And as for the money, 
 why, it 's just my way of making an investment, don't 
 you see ? When one has got daughters to marry one 
 can't expect to do so without putting one's hand in 
 one's pocket. If one of my sons had grown up he 
 would certainly have been a priest it's the safest 
 thing on the whole, as I 've always maintained 
 you 're to take the place of that son, don't you see ? 
 The chance isn't a bad one for you, and I advise you 
 to think over it before saying No.' 
 
 ' I will think over it,' said Gregor, uncovering his 
 face. ' It has been too sudden ; I will come back 
 when I have thought.' 
 
 'That's right! Come back to-morrow, or take a 
 week, if you like. There's plenty of time before 
 the beginning of the term. But mind not a word 
 to Zenia meanwhile ! It 's the one condition I make.' 
 
 ' I will say nothing,' said Gregor, as he rose in a 
 great hurry. ' I do not want to see anybody to-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 25 
 
 night. Will you let me out at this side, please ? I 
 should like to go home at once.' 
 
 ' Without saying good-night to the ladies ? Well, 
 have your way, and may you be well inspired in 
 your reflections ! '
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 OUTSIDE it was already so dark that Gregor, in 
 his hurry, half stumbled down the wooden steps 
 of the porch. Once free of the lilac bushes and out 
 upon the common it was astonishing to discover that 
 the night was star-lit and transparent. Gregor began 
 by walking very fast along the ghostly-looking ribbons 
 of grey dust, but he had not got to the middle of the 
 wide space before the stillness of the night seemed to 
 lay hands upon him. Why was he hurrying on ? 
 He knew quite well that he would not be able to 
 sleep when he got home, and if all he wanted to do 
 was to think, surely this spot was more congenial to 
 thought than the four mud walls of his tiny chamber ? 
 All around him the village was asleep already ; the 
 Pope's house and the Jewish tavern alone still showed 
 lights behind their windows, and the only sound to 
 be heard just now was the uneasy lowing of a cow 
 whose calf had been driven to market that day. As 
 Gregor's face relaxed, his eyes turned instinctively 
 to the line of mountains on the horizon, dimly visible 
 even now, for he loved to look on them and to 
 imagine himself in their richly wooded depths. On 
 the other side there was the plain, easily to be over-
 
 27 
 
 looked for miles from the raised ground on which 
 the village stood, and nearer at hand the stems of 
 the birch trees shone through the shadows like white 
 marble columns. Here and there a dark, inexplic- 
 able sort of phantom limped across the scene the 
 hobbled horses which had been left out for the night 
 and were still apparently more hungry than sleepy. 
 Passing close beside one of them Gregor could hear 
 its deep breath. When he came to a chance log 
 which lay on the grass it seemed to him quite natural 
 to sit down, with his face towards the mountains. 
 That feeling of astonishment, almost consternation, 
 which had been the first effect of the Pope's proposi- 
 tion was still upon him. 
 
 'A priest! / a priest !" he said aloud. The words 
 had been ringing in his ears all the time as he walked, 
 and to speak them aloud was almost a necessity. 
 
 Considering his natural piety it was perhaps strange 
 that such an idea should never have presented itself 
 to his mind, not even in the shape of a hopeless wish ; 
 but ambition did not lie in his nature, and the thought 
 appeared to him, at first sight, purely ambitious. 
 Except for an uncle whom the opinion of the world 
 (that is, of his neighbours) had driven into paying for 
 his schooling such as it had been and who bore 
 him a grudge in consequence, Gregor had always 
 stood quite alone. Scarcely could he be said to have 
 comrades, for his sickly health as a child had shut him 
 out of all rough sports. The uncle was a bachelor, 
 but this circumstance could not diminish the grudge 
 towards Gregor ; in fact it rather aggravated it, for
 
 28 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 when a man out of sheer reasonableness renounces 
 the comforts and pleasures of family life, it is all the 
 harder upon him to have to pay the cost of his 
 brother's improvidence. At the earliest possible 
 moment Gregor was therefore told to look out for his 
 own living. If at that time he felt an inclination of 
 any sort it was towards the career of a doctor, but 
 since studies were quite out of the question, and a 
 post of schoolmaster being available, it became in- 
 evitable to accept it. Within a few months he had 
 got fond of his work. By dint of impressing upon 
 him the fact that he was an absolutely superfluous 
 personage, his uncle had succeeded in training his 
 natural diffidence to excess, and the sensation of 
 being looked up to even if only by village gamins, 
 and after having been so persistently looked down 
 upon was so new as to be almost entrancing. At 
 first nothing could exceed his astonishment at seeing 
 his own tremulous orders obeyed, his recommenda- 
 tions followed, his approval coveted. A feeling of 
 gratitude towards these little beings who thus helped 
 him to find his footing, not only in life, but also in his 
 own mind, so to say, was the first phase through 
 which the new schoolmaster passed. Pity came 
 next an acute and aching pity for these children, 
 who yet were no poorer than himself, and certainly 
 far better framed for resisting the miseries of poverty. 
 Out of all this there grew a real affection for his 
 pupils, which for the first time made life appear 
 interesting, instead of only endurable. 
 
 For very long, however, this interest could not
 
 29 
 
 suffice. His days were full enough, but the evenings 
 were long, and the holiday times painfully empty. 
 A family life had always appeared to him as the 
 ideal of existence probably because he had never 
 known it and when he sat alone in his bare chamber 
 he would listen enviously to the clamour which the 
 peasant children made alongside, and wonder in how 
 many years he would be able to think of marriage. 
 As yet he had scarcely spoken to a woman, and in 
 the village of Hlobaki, the only women, not peasants, 
 were to be found in the family of the Pope. It was 
 inevitable that a certain intimacy should arise. For 
 a year past Gregor had spent all his Sundays at 
 Father Nikodem's house, and for half a year past 
 had become aware of being attracted by Zenobia 
 Mostewicz. Whether he was in love with her or 
 not he could not have himself said ; she did not 
 dazzle him, but she pleased him ; to be with her did 
 not excite, but soothed him. Their frequent talks 
 had been extraordinarily serious for two people of 
 their ages, and if he had felt drawn towards her it 
 had no doubt been in part because of the contrast 
 which her reflective mood presented to the common- 
 place superficiality of the rest of the family. Beside 
 the father's boisterousness, the mother's acidity, and 
 the younger girl's tomboyishness, Zenobia's chronic 
 calmness of demeanour, even her apparent apathy, 
 exercised a charm of its own. 
 
 But to think of aspiring to her hand did not occur 
 to him for long, and occurred only at first to be 
 rejected as a piece of presumptuous folly. Many
 
 3 o THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 months of further intercourse, and many more 
 solitary evenings were required before he found in 
 himself the courage to put his case before the Pope. 
 He had expected either Yes or No ; and now, 
 instead of getting either, there was a new problem 
 to face. 
 
 '/ a priest!' This one idea absorbed his mind, 
 pushing the thought of his marriage entirely into the 
 background. Why, after all, did the idea terrify him 
 so ? The various priests he had known had not, 
 either by the exaltation of their ideas or their mode 
 of life, impressed him as presenting something un- 
 attainable in the matter of Christian perfection. 
 What they did, would he not be able to do it too ? 
 Whence, then, this feeling of unworthiness which 
 seemed to bow him to the ground ? Even the story 
 he had heard that afternoon was not calculated to 
 exalt the thought of priesthood in his mind, and yet 
 Father Nikodem undoubtedly was counted among 
 the more conscientious of his class. 
 
 What they did, yes, but would he be content to 
 do as they did ? It was there that the difficulty lay. 
 Strange that there should be such a difference be- 
 tween his manner of viewing priesthood as exercised 
 by others, and of this same priesthood when contem- 
 plating the possibility of taking its duties upon 
 himself. He had even thought himself quite resigned 
 to the low standard prevailing, until called upon to 
 make that standard his own. Together with the 
 mass of his co-religionists, he had grown up used to 
 see the priests of his church live the commonolace
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 31 
 
 lives of other people, to be priests only within the 
 walls of their church, to lay aside their sacred 
 character with their vestments, becoming again 
 everyday-men, with the interests, the pleasures, the 
 petty anxieties, and even the vices of everyday-men. 
 Scarcely had such sights offended a soul whom 
 tradition had taught sharply to distinguish between 
 Religion and its official representative the blessings 
 of the church and the hand that chances to dispense 
 them ; and never for a moment had his childlike 
 faith suffered from the sight of the personal unworthi- 
 ness of an individual. ' My words, not my deeds ! ' 
 is the principle of the great mass of Ruthenian priests 
 when exhorting their flocks, and hitherto Gregor had 
 accepted it. How was it then that he now discovered 
 in his heart a quite different ideal of priesthood ? 
 Whence could it have come, since he was certain 
 of never having met its representative in the flesh ? 
 That, indeed, would be as hard to say as it would be 
 to explain how an isolated flower comes to grow in 
 a country where none of its species exist ; how trace 
 the breeze which has carried hither the one frail 
 seed ? Gregor could not know how the thing had 
 come, but only that it was there, and being there it 
 would not let him lightly accept the chance offered 
 him, merely because it was ' the safest thing, on the 
 whole,' nor allow him to recognise the possession of a 
 figure that would do well in a vestment, and a tenor 
 voice which might be useful at High Mass, as valid 
 grounds for taking orders. 
 
 All this time, and in the midst of his doubts, there
 
 32 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 was slowly growing up in him a hot, hungry desire 
 for the thing which he yet did not dare to grasp at. 
 When he looked round him again the stars seemed 
 to him to be shining brighter, and the common to 
 have grown as large as the plain. The lights, both in 
 the priest's and in the Jew's house, had disappeared ; 
 and only the voice of the bereaved cow broke the 
 silence of the sleeping village. 
 
 Was it not possible that the Pope had been inspired 
 by Heaven to make him this offer ? It sounded too 
 marvellous to come from a mere earthly source. But 
 was it quite certain that he actually meant it ? Father 
 Nikodem was fond of jokes was he not only amus- 
 ing himself at the nai've young man's expense ? An 
 ugly shadow crossed Gregor's fair face. The in- 
 stinctive spirit of distrust, which is the bane of the 
 Ruthenian peasant, was at work within him, for it 
 was not yet two generations since his ancestors had 
 walked behind the plough, and peasant instincts are 
 as hard to kill as the thistles in their own fields. 
 Centuries of oppression, of being overreached and 
 played upon at every turn, have made of the Ruthenian 
 peasant the most mistrustful of human beings, not 
 only towards his oppressor the Pole, but even towards 
 his own kind. In Gregor this national vice for it 
 deserves this qualification was counteracted by 
 other qualities, in especial by his own innate candour, 
 which now came to his aid, dispersing the suggestion 
 of false play, clearing the cloud from his forehead, 
 and leaving the flood of exultation, that was gaining 
 on him, free to rise.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 33 
 
 ' I a priest ! ' But he said it already in an accent 
 of hope. He was beginning to discover within him- 
 self all sorts of reasons why this thing should be 
 possible. His first conscious desire had been to be 
 a doctor ; and now, if he would, he might be a doctor 
 of souls, and dispense heavenly medicine ! Now, 
 also, he began to understand why his school work 
 had taken such immediate possession of him ; there 
 also his mission had been to guide, to support, to 
 plant good seed in ready ground and this mission, 
 how much greater? 
 
 His eyes sought the star-spangled sky exultingly, 
 but immediately dropped, once more his head sank 
 upon his breast. The feeling of his unworthiness 
 was upon him again, heavier than ever. 
 
 ' A priest of the God who built those mountains ! ' he 
 groaned aloud. 'A priest of the God who lit those 
 stars ! Oh, never ! It can never be ! ' And a desire 
 to make himself smaller still, to prostrate himself on 
 the earth and press his face into the grass, came over 
 him almost irresistibly. It was as though the whole 
 firmament and all its wonders were weighing him 
 down to the ground. 
 
 He had sat for long when something soft pushed 
 his shoulder, and he heard a breath drawn in his 
 very ear. Then he turned with a start, to become 
 aware of one of the hobbled horses curiously sniffing 
 him. He discovered now that he was shivering, and 
 that out in the plain the mists were beginning to rise. 
 He had come to no conclusion, and yet it was clear 
 that he had sat here long enough, for the nights were 
 C
 
 34 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 still cool at this season. Tired out with the use- 
 less debate, he rose and resumed his way. He had 
 reached the other side of the common, and was 
 about to plunge into the dark lane, when a sound, 
 which was something between a groan and a snore, 
 startled him by its vicinity. Bending down he saw 
 a dark mass on the ground, lying in the shadow of 
 the paling, and at the same time became aware of an 
 unpleasantly strong smell of wodki. When his eyes 
 had got accustomed to the light he saw that a woman 
 was sleeping there, evidently dead-drunk. Another 
 moment and he had recognised her, it was Marka 
 Ritzko, a well-known incorrigible drunkard, who 
 carried all her earnings to the Jewish tavern. The 
 natural thing seemed to be to awaken her, but all 
 the vigour at Gregor's command succeeded only in 
 shaking a few inarticulate sounds out of her. He 
 was about to turn away in disgust, when a small, 
 bare foot, sticking almost straight into the air, 
 attracted his attention. That foot could not belong 
 to Marka ; it proved to belong to her two-year-old 
 son, who was sleeping beside her, in imminent danger 
 of being suffocated by his insensible mother. Gregor 
 knelt down quickly, and deftly extricating the child 
 from its mother's drunken embrace, lifted it in his 
 arms. The boy's head was thrown back, and from 
 his half-open mouth the same overpowering smell of 
 wodki, which had made Gregor almost sick in the 
 moment of bending down, met him again. With a 
 mixture of horror and pity he recognised that the 
 child was as drunk as the mother. Gathering it
 
 35 
 
 carefully in his arms he entered the lane, and, as he 
 felt his way along in the dark, it seemed to him that 
 out of the night some words were being spoken in 
 his ear 
 
 ' It is not my Father's will that one of these little 
 ones should be lost.' 
 
 Through the shadows he peered at the face of the 
 poor little outcast which lay upturned upon his arm, 
 and a new flood of warmth rose deliciously in his 
 heart. The shepherd who had left his ninety-nine 
 sheep to find the one that was lost, must he not have 
 known this same joy as he carried it back over the 
 hills? 
 
 Arrived at home, and having managed with one 
 hand to kindle a light, he laid the insensible child in 
 his own bed, then stretching himself on the bench, 
 exhausted both physically and mentally, fell into a 
 deep sleep. When he awoke in broad daylight he 
 could not at once explain this new feeling of con- 
 tentment and joy which pervaded him. It was only 
 when his eyes fell on the child, sitting up in the bed 
 and playing with his Sunday cravat, that the details 
 of yesterday came back to him. 
 
 'Worthy I am not,' he mused ; ' but who is worthy? 
 Was Peter worthy when he was told to leave his 
 fishing-nets and to come? Did he not afterwards 
 prove himself to be a coward ? And yet God, who 
 knew the bottom of this weakness, made him into 
 the first of His apostles. Does He not take His 
 instruments where He chooses?' 
 
 The school hours seemed very long that day, and
 
 36 
 
 scarcely were they over when Gregor, just as he was, 
 and without making the careful toilet of yesterday, 
 almost ran across the common, and straight into the 
 room where he knew that he would be most likely to 
 find the Pope alone. 
 
 Father Nikodem's round eyes grew rounder still 
 at his visitor's unannounced and somewhat impetu- 
 ous entrance. 
 
 ' Anything wrong at the school, Gregor Petrow ? ' 
 he began, and then, after a good look at his face 
 
 ' Oh, I see ; so you haven't taken a week about it 
 after all ? ' 
 
 1 No, Father Nikodem. I have come to tell you 
 that I accept your offer, and am more grateful for 
 your generosity than I can say ! ' 
 
 ' Indeed ! . Why, this is quite a different tune 
 from yesterday. What has brought you round so 
 quickly? ' 
 
 ' It has just come to me.' 
 
 ' That 's right, my son ! You 've got more sense 
 in you than I dared to hope for. Make your pre- 
 parations so as to be ready for the term ; mind you 
 pass your examinations, and then come back and 
 be welcome to take your choice among my daughters 
 there will be three of them to choose from by 
 that time, you know,' and the Pope laughed rather 
 knowingly. 
 
 ' I shall do everything I can to requite your mag- 
 nanimity,' said Gregor, with a fervour which rather 
 disconcerted the Pope. 
 
 ' Well, well ; but mind, not a word to Zenia. The
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 37 
 
 arrangement remains between you and me. No 
 love-making in advance ! There is no use in turn- 
 ing her head now time enough for that when the 
 examinations are safely passed. Do you promise 
 me that?' 
 
 Gregor promised readily, and almost without a 
 pang. From an end Zenia had all at once become 
 only a means to an end. 
 
 ' That was a good idea,' said the Pope to himself, 
 left alone once more, and thoughtfully stroking his 
 comfortable double chin. ' It is quite as likely as 
 not that before the time is over she may have picked 
 up another husband for herself, which she might not 
 do if she felt herself bound. But my money won't 
 be wasted on that account, since he'll do just as well 
 for one of the younger girls.' 
 
 For Father Nikodem was a practical man, and 
 had long since recognised that Gregor was worth 
 securing as a son-in-law.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THERE is a street in Lemberg winding up in easy 
 curves from the centre of the town, and in which 
 a long white building, flanked on one side by a 
 weather-beaten church, on the other by a stretch of 
 high garden wall, forms the chief feature. From 
 out of the church, as well as from behind a long row 
 of windows, there are, at certain hours of the day, to 
 be heard the sound of many voices chanting in 
 unison men's voices and young voices, as not even 
 the thickness of the walls can conceal. Those who 
 lodge in the neighbourhood, inasmuch as they have 
 ears for music, are people to be envied, for whoever 
 leads that invisible choir understands his business, 
 and the innate musical genius of his nation bends 
 his pupils to his will. In summer more especially, 
 when the many windows stand open, even the 
 passers-by are apt to slacken their pace at this 
 point ; amid the glare of pavement and sunlit wall, 
 and high above the rattle of passing vehicles, there 
 are snatches of song to be heard which rejoice the 
 town-weary heart, and make it dream itself far away 
 in the shadow of some sacred grove or at the door 
 of some rustic church ! But it is at evening, when 
 
 38
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 39 
 
 traffic is over in this fortunately not much frequented 
 street, that the best moments come. Then the pos- 
 sessors of balconies take place therein as though 
 they were settling themselves in a theatre box. And 
 though these informal concerts are almost invariably 
 religious in character, they are not for that mono- 
 tonous, since the splendours of an Alleluia or a 
 Gloria are continually varied by the sombreness of 
 a Miserere or the poignancy of a Stabat Mater. To 
 listen to the voices of these unseen singers, so young, 
 so clear, so vigorous, and yet all pierced by that 
 supreme note of pain which seems inseparable from 
 the musical Ruthenian, is to come to believe that 
 you are listening to a choir if not of angels, at least 
 of youthful saints. It would keep the illusion better 
 if they never left their walls ; but the sight of all 
 these robust, and anything but aesthetic-looking 
 youths, streaming out at given hours, on their way 
 to the theological lectures at the university, and 
 evidently finding some difficulty in giving to their 
 general demeanour the soberness demanded by their 
 clerical attire, is apt to quite destroy that vision of 
 singing angels. No trace on the majority of these 
 dark or fair faces, with eyes that will roam in spite 
 of themselves, of that ' divine despair ' which the 
 voices seem to betray, and which, far more generally 
 than not, lies in some mere quality of tone. Their 
 tall hats and long black sashes notwithstanding, 
 these young candidates of the priesthood look, 
 generally speaking, remarkably like other young 
 men.
 
 40 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 But not all. Sometimes, though rarely, the visible 
 individual answers to the picture that has been made 
 of the invisible one ; and whoever had met a certain 
 fair-haired seminarist, at that time to be seen in the 
 streets of Lemberg, whose wide-open blue eyes 
 seemed to look at things without seeing them, would 
 have suffered no disappointment of his ideals. 
 
 Gregor had reached his fourth year of studies 
 without having quite lost that sense of rapturous 
 astonishment with which he had first received the 
 proposition made to him by Zenia's father. He was 
 passing through what would probably be the happiest 
 period of his life. Not that he found his surround- 
 ings as congenial to him as might reasonably have 
 been expected, but that early isolation had given 
 him the faculty of making to himself a world apart. 
 At first, indeed, he had nai'vely attempted to share 
 some of his thoughts with other minds, and had 
 allowed a little of the eagerness which filled him to 
 overflow, but he was too sensitive not quickly to 
 comprehend where sympathy failed, and finding his 
 timid remarks, concerning the exaltation of their 
 common vacation, received either with polite indif- 
 ference or else with barely veiled amusement, he had 
 withdrawn within himself and henceforward lived 
 there contentedly, almost forgetting that he had 
 companions. A very brief trial had sufficed to 
 convince him that he could have nothing in common 
 with men who regarded the priesthood they aspired 
 to as a good appointment and nothing more, who 
 shirked what they could of its obligations, were not
 
 unwilling to exchange glances with the young ladies 
 who on the summer evenings sat on their balconies, 
 who bribed the porters to smuggle in wine and cold 
 pasties, and of whom many kept taroc cards hidden 
 under their mattresses, and played half the nights, 
 with a sentinel at the door ready to warn them of 
 approaching danger. If there were congenial spirits 
 among his companions, both his natural diffidence 
 and his inherent mistrustfulness prevented him 
 discovering them. Having been disappointed in 
 his first attempts, he somewhat too abruptly lost 
 hope. 
 
 ' You make a mistake, my son,' one of his superiors 
 said to him on more than one occasion. Father 
 Spiridion was a keen-eyed old priest, who, being the 
 leader of the choir, not unnaturally took an interest 
 in the possessor of the best tenor voice under his 
 guidance, and observed him more than he would 
 under other circumstances have done. 'To live 
 alone is not good for any soul. To speak too little 
 is sometimes to think too much, and these solitary 
 thoughts are not always as full of charity as they 
 should be. There is much zeal in your isolation, but 
 there is also pride spiritual pride, which is the 
 most ensnaring of all, for you are apt to believe evil 
 too readily. It is good to hold your vocation high, 
 but beware lest this very upholding should not be 
 the ruin of your humility, and of your charity too. 
 I find in you many qualities, but the quality of 
 mercy I do not find as much developed as I love 
 to see it. Doubtless you have many frivolous
 
 42 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 companions, but you have also some earnest ones ; 
 you do not find them out because you look upon all 
 alike with suspicion.' 
 
 But Gregor's individuality proved stronger than 
 these wise words, and he went on living alone as 
 before. The access to many things hitherto un- 
 attainable for instance, to books and to music 
 entirely sufficed for his happiness ; and the thought 
 of opportunities never again to be enjoyed kept him 
 from wasting even one hour of these precious four 
 years. Never did he lose the consciousness that he 
 was preparing for battle, and that the better he 
 armed himself the better would he be able to fight 
 that fight to which he was determined to consecrate 
 all his energies. On the whole, he was the quietest 
 and least noticed of all the seminarists, only on one 
 or two occasions being roused out of his serene 
 isolation by some rough mental contact, and flaring 
 out into almost passionate protestation. Thus any 
 too broad compliment paid to him on his voice was 
 apt to irritate his sense of the fitness of things. 
 
 ' If I had a voice like that, it is the stage I would 
 go in for, and not the church,' a merry-eyed semin- 
 arist once said to him laughingly. ' We can do with 
 less than that for High Mass, but you would make a 
 glorious Trovatore! 
 
 1 That is just what Panna Halka was saying,' put 
 in a stander-by, ' when she inquired who it was that 
 sung the solo in the Agnus Dei we were practising 
 last week.' 
 
 Gregor reddened angrily. ' If my voice is good
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 43 
 
 enough for the theatre, that does not mean that it is 
 too good for the church, does it?' he asked, with 
 unwonted sharpness. ' What is it to any man or 
 woman how I use it ? ' 
 
 Another time it was some talk about his hands, 
 which have already been mentioned as white and 
 narrow as those of a woman, which put him into one 
 of his rare rages. 
 
 Those who were getting near the end of their 
 term had been going through the practice of various 
 priestly functions, amongst others that of dispensing 
 the blessing to the congregation, and among all the 
 hands raised in this species of rehearsal plump and 
 lean, robust and frail, those of Gregor were undoubt- 
 edly the ones most likely to meet the approval of a 
 sculptor. 
 
 ' How is it that hands and hands can be so 
 different ? ' sighed a certain youthful possessor of 
 a pair of regular bear's paws ; ' mine might be boiled 
 beetroots, while yours are living ivory. What hands 
 to give the blessing with! If I were a woman, it 
 would give me distractions during Mass. Anyway, 
 you can count on a large female congregation,' and 
 he sighed enviously. 
 
 Gregor looked at him for a moment, silent with 
 indignation, then he burst out. Was this Pawel 
 Prokup, a future priest, who spoke thus of hands ? 
 Had not God made all hands, and could white hands 
 be more pleasing to Him than red ones? Was not 
 the whiteness of the heart, wherewith the blessing 
 was given, the only thing to be considered ; and must
 
 44 
 
 everything, everything be viewed from the earthly 
 point of view, and turned into a snare for the eyes, 
 and a pitfall for the soul ? These and several other 
 things he said, and perhaps would have said more, 
 but, looking round with glittering eyes, he read 
 astonishment on every face, and remembered that 
 they could not understand him. 
 
 During all this time he had not again seen Zenobia, 
 nor any one of the family except Father Nikodem, 
 whom ecclesiastical business had once or twice 
 brought to Lemberg, and who never failed to present 
 his portly person and cheerful countenance at the 
 seminary. 
 
 'That's right, my son,' he would say, with one 
 of those pats on the back which were apt to make 
 Gregor's teeth rattle, 'nothing but good accounts of 
 you ; we '11 make a famous Pope of you yet ! ' 
 
 It was probably also to keep in touch with this 
 promising son-in-law that the Pope pressed him more 
 than once to spend his vacation at Hlobaki ; but 
 Gregor, who had no money for the journey, and was 
 ashamed to ask for more help, made vague promises, 
 and ended by spending his vacation-time almost 
 alone at the seminary, wandering contentedly under 
 the big trees of the garden, and more at ease than 
 when sharing its cool alleys with uncongenial com- 
 panions. 
 
 In this way four years passed without another 
 meeting, and without Gregor feeling the urgent need 
 of one, for his priesthood engrossed his thoughts far 
 more than did his marriage. When he thought of
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 45 
 
 Zenobia it was chiefly with a feeling of gratitude 
 that through her he was going to be spared all that 
 unavoidable exercising of mind over the future which 
 seemed to absorb so much of the mental energy of 
 his companions. His matrimonial programme being 
 thus mercifully fixed, he could spare his thoughts for 
 higher objects. 
 
 How deeply occupied his fellow-students were with 
 exactly the matrimonial part of the arrangement, 
 was proved to him in more than one way, but more 
 especially by the existence of a volume which went 
 by the name of the ' matrimonial album,' but which 
 showed many of the characteristics of a catalogue, 
 containing as it did a collection of photographs 
 procured in all sorts of official and unofficial ways 
 of all the marriageable priests' daughters in the 
 east of Galicia, for it is an exception when the 
 candidate for orders takes to himself a secular wife. 
 Below the photographs the names of the originals 
 were neatly inscribed in round-hand, and not only 
 the names, but the ages, probable marriage portions, 
 and any salient detail regarding the family, which 
 might influence a possible choice. Thus Sidonia 
 Burlewicz would be described as aged nineteen, 
 worth two thousand florins, and possessing six 
 feather pillows, musical, lively, but with the counter- 
 poise of a mother who was known to drink ; while 
 Rosa Beleps had more money, more pillows, and 
 perfectly unobjectionable parents, but also more 
 years behind her, as the photograph alone, without 
 the help of the baptismal register, was able to testify.
 
 46 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Over this album many warm discussions were 
 wont to take place, more especially on Sunday even- 
 ings when the services were all over. But, seeing 
 that it was worldly prudence and not sentiment that 
 guided them, these debates seldom grew more than 
 just warm, and occasionally jocular. Since marriage 
 has to precede ordination it was naturally wiser to 
 have one's plans fixed before the end of one's term. 
 Indeed it often proved necessary to fix them far 
 earlier than that ; for the seminarist who finds him- 
 self at the end of his means, has frequently no 
 resource but to engage himself to a priest's daughter, 
 and finish his studies at the expense of his future 
 father-in-law, just as Gregor was doing. At the 
 beginning of each new term a certain number would 
 come back from their vacations irrevocably betrothed, 
 upon which a corresponding number of photographs 
 would be removed from the album, as being ' off the 
 lists.' Collisions were rare, a long-established custom 
 having left the decision in these matters to a friendly 
 understanding. 
 
 ' I will take Leona Chrotofis,' one of the seniors 
 would say. ' She gets a thousand florins less than 
 Marya Markew, but she has a good face. I leave 
 Marya to you, Franek, if you fancy her.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' laughed Franek, ' I prefer the little 
 Stepanski girl. Let me see how do matters stand 
 there ? Five sisters, ah mercy ! and the mother died 
 of consumption no, that won't do. I think I shall 
 try for one of the Bordewicz girls.' 
 
 'The Bordewicz girls are put off the list,' said
 
 47 
 
 another, 'you know, since the eldest sister eloped 
 with Paskew.' 
 
 ' That 's a pity ! ' sighed several voices, for the 
 Bordewicz girls were good-looking ; but nevertheless 
 it would not occur to any one present to go to that 
 house with matrimonial intentions, for these young 
 men, though not necessarily saints themselves, are 
 strict moralists when it came to choosing a wife. 
 The game has its rules as well as any other, and 
 to visit a tabooed house is considered as unfair a 
 move as to cross each other's plans by wooing 
 the wife whom common consent has allotted to 
 another. 
 
 Gregor, who was understood to be disposed of 
 otherwise, had never hitherto been drawn into the 
 discussion. The arrangement, though supposed to 
 rest between him and Father Nikodem, had not failed 
 to leak out, and had caused Zenobia's photograph to 
 be kept out of the album. Accordingly, one Sunday 
 evening in the spring of his last year, he was not 
 a little surprised, while passing through the large 
 recreation hall, to hear the remark 
 
 1 Why, that is Petrow's one, surely ! Who put her 
 in here?' 
 
 Hearing his name he stood still for a moment. 
 
 ' Look here, Petrow, is it not the Mostewicz girl 
 who is to be your wife ? ' 
 
 With a certain feeling of curiosity Gregor ap- 
 proached the table. If Zenobia's photograph was 
 there he would certainly remove it ; that was not its 
 place. The album lay open on the table and a finger
 
 48 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 pointed to a freshly-inserted photograph. It was 
 the portrait of a very young girl, whose eyes and lips 
 were laughing straight out of the picture, and with 
 a white rose shining like a star in the black cloud of 
 her hair ; her dress was cut out at the neck and a 
 second rose nestled among the lace that touched the 
 skin. In face and expression nothing more unlike 
 Zenobia could be conceived. 
 
 ' No, that is not her,' said Gregor, after a moment. 
 
 ' Then who has put a wrong name ? Where is 
 Barnuk? It is he who keeps the album.' 
 
 ' The name is not wrong,' said Barnuk, stepping 
 up. ' It is the elder Mostewicz girl whom Petrow 
 is to marry, and this is the younger one, Wasylya 
 Mostewicz.' 
 
 ' Wasylya ? ' said Gregor. ' But that cannot be 
 she is a child.' 
 
 ' She was a child once upon a time, no doubt. 
 When did you see her last? ' 
 
 Gregor thought for a moment. ' To be sure that 
 was four years ago.' 
 
 ' There you are ! No wonder you did not recog- 
 nise her.' 
 
 ' No, I did not recognise her,' said Gregor, looking 
 with more attention at the photograph. 
 
 ' So this one is still free ? ' asked some one. 
 
 ' So it seems. I wonder if she really is as pretty 
 as that ? ' 
 
 ' I 'm not sure that I should risk it,' said another 
 critically. ' I 've often remarked that it 's a particular 
 sort of girl that is so apt to stick flowers in her hair.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 49 
 
 ' Oh, you know all about it, of course,' laughed 
 a chorus of voices, and Gregor, finding that the con- 
 versation was turning a way that was not congenial 
 to him, glided out of the group and went back to his 
 room. 
 
 D
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE sun was pouring down upon the maize- 
 fields, causing the yellow grain to swell 
 hourly, and laying a thicker coating of gold upon 
 the pumpkins that crawled about their feet, when 
 Gregor again saw Hlobaki. Except that here 
 and there some hut had got a new roof and 
 some piece of paling been freshly plaited, four 
 years had not changed much about the village, 
 but the man who came back to it was not 
 quite the same that had left. Successful studies 
 had given him a new confidence in his own powers 
 and done much to wipe away that diffidence 
 which had clung to him since boyhood. He had 
 found his place in the world, and the consciousness 
 of this altered his appearance incredibly. Despite 
 the many hours spent over books, he held himself 
 straighter than he had done four years ago, there was 
 no more doubt in his clear eyes, no more hesitation 
 in his speech ; he had even gained enough flesh to 
 save him from the epithet of ' lanky ' formerly 
 applied to him not infrequently and this was not 
 astonishing, seeing that for the first time in his life 
 
 he had had enough to eat. The long robe of the 
 so
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 51 
 
 seminarist sat well upon his youthful figure, and on 
 the serious young face the dignity of priesthood 
 seemed already to have set its stamp. The exami- 
 nation had been passed not only satisfactorily but 
 brilliantly, and with buoyant heart he came to claim 
 the bride who was to make it possible for him to 
 receive orders. Once outside the seminary his 
 thoughts had turned with a sort of rebound towards 
 Zenia, as towards the woman who was to be his com- 
 panion in his new life, and with whom he longed to 
 share his hopes and aspirations. Now only he felt 
 free to dwell on what would doubtless be the 
 amenities of his future. He did not come straight 
 from Lemberg, for his uncle, suddenly remembering 
 the existence of a nephew who promised to be a 
 credit to the family, and whom, moreover, he was 
 going to be successfully rid of for ever, had actually 
 waylaid him on the journey and insisted on a few 
 weeks of his company. Since the ordination would 
 not take place until November, Gregor had resigned 
 himself to paying what he considered to be a debt 
 to family feeling, but it was only when his face was 
 turned towards Hlobaki that he began to feel on the 
 right road. 
 
 As, somewhat stiff from the long drive, he clam- 
 bered out of the cart which had brought him from 
 the station, he almost fell into Father Nikodem's 
 arms. 
 
 ' At last, my son, at last ! You 've kept us hang- 
 ing on long enough ; there have been impatient 
 people here, I can tell you ! You '11 find one of them
 
 52 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 on the verandah up there ! But let 's have a look at 
 you ; you 've made another stride since I saw you 
 last!' 
 
 The Pope himself was much the same in appear- 
 ance as on the day when he had propounded his 
 plan to Gregor, except that the double chin had 
 grown almost triple, and that in his pepper-and-salt 
 hair there was now more salt than pepper. 
 
 On the little wooden verandah which jutted out 
 among the lilac-trees, and was now almost smothered 
 by four years' additional growth, the female part of the 
 family was already assembled. As Gregor ascended 
 the well-known creaking steps which creaked far 
 worse than he remembered it seemed to him that 
 it was quite full of women ; but in reality there were 
 only four of them. Before he had begun to dis- 
 tinguish between them he found himself enclosed 
 in a pair of arms whose angles he could feel right 
 through the cloth of his coat, while the quality of the 
 kiss which the Popadia applied to his forehead was 
 enough to show him that he was already regarded 
 as a son. Then he felt himself handed over to the 
 next person, who, however, did not embrace him, 
 but held out her hand, murmuring something. Was 
 this Zenobia ? The green twilight, which reigned on 
 the verandah even at midday, made it necessary to 
 look twice ; yes, he supposed it was Zenobia, 
 though he had never before noted this likeness to 
 her mother ; and she looked tired, too, despite the 
 unwonted brightness of her eyes ; perhaps these four 
 years had appeared longer to her than to him the
 
 53 
 
 thought crossed his mind while he instinctively 
 raised her hand to his lips. 
 
 The next in the row was a half-grown girl, sallow 
 and dark. 
 
 ' Wasylya ? ' said he inquiringly, but at the same 
 moment he remembered the photograph in the 
 album and got confused. There was an audible 
 titter behind him ; he turned that way, and straight- 
 way met that same pair of laughing eyes he had 
 failed to recognise at the seminary, but which were 
 now regarding him with undisguised curiosity, as 
 well as evident approval. It seemed to him that he 
 had been aware of these eyes, even while mounting 
 the steps, and that they had followed him while he 
 made his round of greetings. 
 
 ' I 'm not Zenia and I 'm not Paraska, so who can 
 I be ? ' said the owner of these eyes, with a smile 
 that was ravishingly impertinent. 
 
 ' Wasylya ? ' he said again in increased wonder ; 
 while a vision of the short-frocked tomboy, whom he 
 had last seen chasing pigs, flitted across his remem- 
 brance. 
 
 ' How clever he is ! ' she laughed. ' That 's what 
 they make of people at Lemberg ! ' 
 
 ' You are quite different,' murmured Gregor. 
 
 ' So are you,' she said shortly, and then with 
 demure lips but a spark of mischief in the extreme 
 corners of her black eyes, ' I 'm quite old enough to 
 have my hand kissed, Gregor Petrow.' 
 
 Every one laughed at what was evidently con- 
 sidered an excellent joke.
 
 54 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 'I beg your pardon,' murmured Gregor in con- 
 fusion. He felt extraordinarily hot as he carried the 
 small, plump hand to his lips, no doubt because he 
 was ashamed of his own remissness. 
 
 In the dining-room, to which the Popadia now led 
 the way, there was spread a meal whose ampleness 
 testified to the solemnity of the occasion. Besides 
 the national beetroot soup, there were pirogi (a sort 
 of small dumplings) which absolutely swam in butter, 
 and the most artistic sour cream dumplings which 
 the Popadia had ever fabricated ; there were also 
 some of her famous maize-fattened ducks and a 
 bottle of that sacred hydromel (a sweet drink in 
 which honey is the chief ingredient), which never 
 appeared except on some family feast. And that 
 this was considered to be a family feast was made 
 evident by everybody being in their best clothes, 
 even the Popadia, whom Gregor had hitherto known 
 chiefly in a dressing-jacket, and with fingers gener- 
 ally stained with the juice of some fruit she was 
 preserving, and who looked almost like a stranger 
 in a stiff, silk gown, recently dyed corn-blue. And 
 there were other symptoms as well to wit, the 
 significant turn given to the conversation, and the 
 place ostentatiously assigned to him, by Zenobia's 
 side. Evidently the Pope had not succeeded in 
 keeping the secret entirely between himself and 
 Gregor. Here, out of the green twilight, and in full 
 face of the window, he could see her better than on 
 the verandah. No, really she was not as much 
 changed as he had supposed at first sight ; probably
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 55 
 
 it was only the vicinity of her younger sister which 
 was unfavourable to her. She had always looked 
 more than her age, and beside Wasylya's fuller and 
 fresher face which, with its dazzling teeth, bright 
 cheeks, and impertinently square little nose, might 
 have stood for the very link between childhood and 
 youth, Zenobia's pale, dark face became almost 
 elderly. Although both sisters were brunettes, they 
 belonged to quite different types ; the one un- 
 doubtedly handsome in a sombre, somewhat heavy 
 style, the other all movement, and light, and colour 
 especially colour : for in the contrast between 
 her black eyes and white teeth, between the 
 pink and creamy tints of her brilliant complexion 
 lay Wasylya's chief charm. She was like a spot 
 of light against the darkness and pallor of the 
 rest of the family. The difference between the 
 two sisters appeared even in the quality of skin 
 and hair ; for whereas Zenobia's somewhat opaque 
 skin rarely showed a change, every wave of blood 
 could be noted on Wasylya's transparent face, and 
 while Zenobia's black hair lay in smooth, massive 
 coils about her head, that of Wasylya clouded around 
 her temples, as light and fluffy as black floss silk 
 fresh from the comb. 
 
 It was Wasylya who talked most during the family 
 meal, and asked most questions about his stay at 
 Lemberg, even though she had to lean across 
 Zenobia to do so. 
 
 A bowl piled with young maize-heads, boiled to 
 the point of perfection, had been placed on the
 
 56 
 
 table amid signs of universal approval, for whoever 
 has not tasted hot maize with fresh butter has 
 missed one of the good things of the earth. 
 
 ' It must have been ever so jolly at Lemberg,' 
 Wasylya remarked, while tearing away with her 
 small teeth at the soft, milky maize. ' Do you 
 know that I felt almost inclined to visit you? Not 
 on your account, you know,' with a provoking glance, 
 ' but just to see a real town. Now, do tell me all 
 you know about it.' 
 
 ' I know very little of what is outside the seminary.' 
 
 ' But surely you were at the circus ? I know there 
 was a splendid circus there this summer, because 
 Hypolit Jarewicz told me all about the horse that 
 fired a pistol.' 
 
 'And the poodle that played ball,' put in the 
 sallow Paraska, who was a plain likeness of what 
 Wasylya had been four years ago. 
 
 ' Oh yes, and I have been waiting to ask you 
 whether he knocked the ball with his head or with 
 his paw ; that 's another reason why I Ve been so 
 impatient for your coming.' 
 
 ' But I did not go to the circus.' 
 
 ' That deserves a shaking ! ' remarked the Pope. 
 ' Such a chance of having a good laugh is almost 
 sinful to waste.' 
 
 ' Gregor Petrow is too wise a man to spend his 
 money on empty pleasures,' said the Popadia, with a 
 reproving glance at her husband and an approving 
 one at Gregor. 
 
 Zenobia alone made no remark and asked no
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 57 
 
 questions ; but if Gregor had been less occupied with 
 answering those of Wasylya, he might have observed 
 that from under their heavy lids her dark eyes 
 strayed often to his face and dwelt there for moments 
 at a time with a deep-felt joy that was unmistakable. 
 
 After the maize-heads had been thoroughly done 
 justice to, for rustic appetites are proof against many 
 emotions, there was an adjournment next door, 
 where the same red rep chairs stood in the same 
 place that Gregor remembered them in four years 
 ago only that they were not red any longer, but 
 faded to a sort of ghastly orange, and where the 
 blistered old piano was covered with jam-pots, 
 exactly as it had always been. It was towards the 
 piano that Wasylya went straight on entering. She 
 had insisted on having some lessons principally 
 because the daughters of a Pope of their acquaint- 
 ance, who served as models of fashion for the eccle- 
 siastical circle of these parts, had learnt music 
 and was evidently burning to show off her accom- 
 plishments. 
 
 ' Papa says that you sing beautifully,' she said, 
 pushing aside enough pots to make room to open 
 the lid. ' And I have been so curious to hear you. 
 There you have another reason for my wanting you 
 to come!' and she looked at him again with her 
 deliciously impertinent smile. ' Please sing me 
 something ! ' 
 
 ' I cannot accompany myself/ said Gregor, looking 
 rather doubtfully at the instrument whose tone he 
 knew of old.
 
 58 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' But perhaps I can ; you know I have had lessons. 
 But dear me, perhaps you only sing sacred things ! ' 
 and she made a little grimace of mock distress, at 
 which the family again laughed. Wasylya's little 
 jokes were evidently very popular. 
 
 ' I sing other things too ; but really to-day I am 
 so little prepared and all that dust on the jour- 
 ney ' 
 
 ' Oh, that's what people always begin by saying ! 
 It 's either the dust, or the heat, or they are not in 
 good voice, or something I can't imagine why ; I 
 always begin at once. Look here, I '11 give you 
 courage by going first ! ' And, striking a rather 
 uncertain chord, she broke into the sportive tones of 
 a Krakowiak. 
 
 Her voice, though thin and childish, was clear and 
 true, and the gay verses were sung with so much 
 verve, and the naive delight in her own performance 
 was so evident, that Gregor found it quite possible 
 to condone the faulty accompaniment. As for the 
 family, they were evidently in ecstasies. 
 
 ' A perfect little nightingale we 've been training 
 while you were away, haven't we ? ' said the Pope, 
 enchanted at the success of the pet daughter, in 
 whom he loved to recognise his own high spirits. 
 Paraska clapped her hands, and the mother made a 
 set speech of approval. Only Zenobia said nothing, 
 which struck Gregor as a want of sisterly affection. 
 
 ' Now it 's your turn,' said Wasylya, when she 
 had drunk in the applause ; but though she said 
 'Now it's your turn,' she was looking for another
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 59 
 
 song already, and upon that there followed another 
 and yet another, all of the gay and playful order. 
 
 ' But I can sing serious things too,' she assured 
 him, flushed with her own success, and, composing 
 her face, she began once more. 
 
 This was a song which Gregor knew, the song of 
 the ' Black Eyes,' well known in the country, and set 
 to one of those heartrending popular airs which seem 
 to embody within themselves the sadness of whole 
 generations. To hear the sweet, monotonous plaint 
 falling from lips which seemed intended only to 
 smile, gave Gregor a curiously painful impression. 
 And how readily came the words of a passion which 
 to her surely must be dark as yet, and how the flame 
 in the eyes responded to the sombre, vehement 
 words ! 
 
 ' I walk on the earth, 
 I sail on the water, 
 But whether sunshine glitters, 
 Whether thunder groans and lightnings flash 
 Whether the stars burn in the sky, 
 Whether day, whether night surrounds me, 
 Whether in the dark, whether in the light, 
 Always with me and before me 
 Those black eyes shine. 
 
 ' I drink honey and I drink gall, 
 
 I gather thorns and lilies. 
 
 The honey I press from the wax, but in its taste 
 I find neither happiness nor peace. 
 Although around me lies the desolate night, 
 Although I kiss the holy relics in church, 
 Always on my mouth do I feel 
 Another coral-red mouth.
 
 60 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' It is because that wicked witch 
 
 The world has bewitched with her face 
 With her face and with her black eyes 
 The curse God himself cannot take from her. 
 Everything, everything is transformed into her, 
 Whichever way I turn she is there. 
 The man on whom the curse has fallen 
 Must possess her or must die ! ' 
 
 When at length Wasylya remembered that it was 
 for Gregor the piano had been opened, she found 
 him standing almost in front of her, leaning with his 
 elbow among the jam-pots. 
 
 ' Now, something sacred after all this frivolity ! ' 
 she laughed she had been laughing almost before 
 the last despairing word had passed her lips. 
 
 ' Not to-day,' he said brusquely ; ' I am not in the 
 right disposition to-day.' 
 
 ' Not feeling holy enough? How queer ! It isn't 
 my songs that have demoralised you, I hope? You 
 can't imagine how holy you look in that long coat 
 that sash alone is tremendously imposing. May I 
 look at it nearer?' And without waiting for a reply 
 she took up the end of the long black silk sash that 
 Gregor, as seminarist, wore round his waist, and 
 examined its fringe attentively, with a just perceptible 
 twitch at the corners of her swelling lips. As she 
 dropped it she looked up straight into his face. 
 
 'A red sash must be prettier, such as they wear in 
 the Latin seminary but those are not allowed to 
 marry. Aren't you glad that your sash is not red ? 
 Because then, you know, you couldn't marry Zenia.' 
 
 Before Gregor could answer, the Popadia's voice
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 61 
 
 was heard calling Wasylya. In sudden embarrass- 
 ment he began putting together the music that lay 
 strewed over the piano, and even on the top of the 
 jam-pots. He was aware of movements behind him, 
 and heard the door open and shut. When he looked 
 round again he saw that he was alone with Zenobia, 
 and immediately understood the purpose of this. 
 The little manoeuvre had been too childishly trans- 
 parent to be mistaken. Doubtless the Pope had 
 thought it time that he and Zenobia should come to 
 an explanation. And really it was time it was 
 even strange that this idea had not occurred to 
 himself. Zenobia was the cause of his being here, 
 and yet he was conscious of having thought very 
 little of Zenobia during the last hour. He must 
 make that good now. 
 
 She was sitting on the only sofa of the room, be- 
 side the show-table, on which all the crotchet covers 
 and wool-work mats, which represented the feast-day 
 gifts of the last decade, were crowded together ; and 
 all the outward composure of her demeanour could 
 not conceal that she was nervous. There was plenty 
 of room on the sofa, and Gregor, as he went resolutely 
 towards her, meant to make the bold move of sitting 
 down by her side, but when he got close he took his 
 place on one of the rep chairs instead. 
 
 ' It is a long time since I went away,' he began, 
 quite at random, and thinking to himself how abso- 
 lutely commonplace his remark sounded. 
 
 ' Has it really seemed to you long ? ' asked Zenobia, 
 raising her eyes for a moment from the crotchet cover
 
 62 
 
 with which her slender brown fingers were nervously 
 playing, but he was too preoccupied to read the re- 
 proach in that glance. 
 
 1 Of course that is to say,' he added truthfully, 
 'these years have been very pleasant, and study 
 makes the time pass quickly. In some ways these 
 four years seem to me like four months only.' 
 
 ' I can believe that study makes the time pass 
 faster than preserving fruit and feeding the hens/ 
 she said with a touch of bitterness, and then was 
 silent again. 
 
 Gregor racked his brain. He had known that this 
 moment would come ; even this morning he had 
 asked himself hopefully whether it would come to- 
 day ; and yet now that it was here he found that he 
 had nothing to say to her. The sensation was so 
 unforeseen as to fill him with alarm. He knew ex- 
 actly what she expected of him she and her whole 
 family, but he felt an unaccountable desire to put back 
 the final word for a little longer, to keep his liberty 
 for just a few hours more, and with this desire upon 
 him, plunged recklessly, and much more volubly than 
 usual, into a description of his life at the seminary ; 
 giving her the plan of hours in detail, and being very 
 particular about giving them right, and yet all the 
 time listening for sounds in the passage, as though 
 he were expecting something. And he was not con- 
 scious of any embarrassment either, but rather of a 
 new sort of excitement, a kind of excitement which 
 he had not known before. He himself was aware of 
 this unwonted exaltation of spirits, and once or twice
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 63 
 
 as he talked put up the back of his hand to feel his 
 hot cheek, wondering what was the matter with him, 
 and whether he had not perhaps drunk too much of 
 the hydromel at dinner. 
 
 And while he spoke, Zenobia's ringers were pressed 
 convulsively against each other, and her face grew 
 more colourless as she bent her head, listening. 
 When, at the end of half an hour, Paraska burst in 
 to say that they were going to drink coffee in the 
 orchard, they had come to no explanation, and spoken 
 no word which might not have been said before the 
 whole family. 
 
 That evening Gregor was alone with the Pope in 
 the room where stood the ink-spotted table, now 
 more spotted than ever. 
 
 'Anything to tell me?' said Father Nikodem, with 
 his comfortable smile. ' All square between you and 
 Zenia?' 
 
 Gregor felt suddenly guilty. ' I have not spoken 
 to her yet,' he almost stammered. ' It seemed to 
 me so sudden we have not seen each other for so 
 long ' 
 
 Father Nikodem looked at him curiously ; possibly 
 he had made his own observations in the course of 
 the afternoon. 
 
 ' Well, well take your time, by all means. There 
 is no special hurry. You may be sure of your 
 answer, I think. For a moment I thought that 
 Hypolit Jarewicz was going to cut you out, but it 
 came to nothing, after all.' 
 
 Hypolit Jarewicz was the son of the well-to-do
 
 64 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Pope at Lussyatyn, and the brother of the musical 
 sisters whom Wasylya strove to emulate. 
 
 ' Did he make her an offer ? ' asked Gregor, with a 
 deepening sense of guilt. 
 
 ' He would have made her one if she had let him 
 but he 's gone back to his studies, and off the cards 
 for the present. Let 's see this is Monday, is it not ? 
 Take till Sunday to renew acquaintance, and after 
 High Mass we'll celebrate the engagement. That 
 will suit, won't it ? 
 
 ' Yes, yes, that will do,' said Gregor, with a sense 
 of respite which was inexplicable to himself; and he 
 listened with a lighter heart as the Pope went on to 
 speak of the steps he had taken to secure for Gregor 
 an appointment in this part of the country, in a 
 parish where, as he said, the fees were all that could 
 be expected for a beginning. Gregor agreed to 
 everything, surprised that the subject did not interest 
 him so intensely as it had hitherto done, and again 
 aware of listening to the sounds in the passage. 
 
 During the interval before the marriage he was to 
 remain in the village, lodging in the same hut where 
 he had lodged as schoolmaster, and when after dark 
 he crossed the common, on which he had held his 
 vigil and had found Marka Ritzko lying beside the 
 paling, it seemed to him as though he had never 
 been away. And yet, yes, he had certainly been 
 away, for although everything was the same, every- 
 thing was also changed. When before had he felt 
 this disturbance in his blood ? Had anything but 
 religious emotion ever moved him as he now felt
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 65 
 
 moved ? Was it his way to keep the air of a secular 
 song so obstinately in his head, and why did it seem 
 to him that out of the shadows all around eyes were 
 looking at him, and all the eyes were black ? ' 
 
 It was to get away from those eyes that he almost 
 ran home, and yet he found them again in his dreams, 
 and knew all the time that, although Zenobia's eyes 
 too were black, these were not Zenobia's eyes. 
 ***** 
 
 Five days more until Sunday with this thought 
 Gregor awoke next morning. It was natural in the 
 circumstances that the greater part of these five 
 days should be spent in the Pope's house. Very 
 rapidly he resumed his old habits of intimacy. On 
 that second day already the Popadia, dropping all 
 show of ceremony, had gone back to her dressing- 
 jacket and her stained fingers. It was the season for 
 preserving plums, and in her housewifely eyes no 
 number of future sons-in-law were worth missing it ; 
 and there were also the apples to be gathered and 
 garnered and a dozen other things to be seen about, 
 touching winter provisions, of which she always laid 
 in as large a store as though she were preparing for 
 a six months' siege. No wonder that on the poor 
 Popadia's haggard face the wrinkles had a way of 
 deepening at this season. For so great a portion of 
 her life had Justina Mostewicz been forced to pinch, 
 and scrape, and turn over every kreutzer that passed 
 through her meagre hands, that even now, when 
 scraping was no longer a necessity, she remained a 
 slave to the habit. A chronic anxiety had stamped 
 E
 
 66 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 itself upon her brown leather face, and was no more 
 to be eradicated than is the mark of a seal. She had 
 buried as many children as she had reared, and she 
 had loved them too, and yet it was not these losses 
 which formed the tragedy of her existence and had 
 eaten all the buoyancy out of her soul it was the 
 ever-standing fear of the larder growing empty, of 
 the beans not being gathered at the right moment, 
 nor the cucumbers salted in time. 
 
 For years past Zenobia had been her right hand, 
 and despite Gregor's presence, her aid could not be 
 dispensed with now. Since she was going to lose 
 her so soon it was as well to make use of her while 
 she could. Wasylya was at any rate no great help, 
 seeing that she ate as many plums as she stoned, 
 and made herself ill with licking the sugary spoons. 
 Neither could the mother, whose horizon was bounded 
 by the walls of her store-room, see any necessity for 
 that billing and cooing which usually precedes mar- 
 riage. Wasylya and Paraska must manage to amuse 
 Gregor meanwhile, and to all appearances they suc- 
 ceeded perfectly in this. Whether the time was 
 spent in the orchard gathering apples for to this 
 extent even the guest was pressed into service or 
 at the piano trying over songs, Gregor did not seem 
 to find the hours too slow. Once or twice he re- 
 membered with a start that this was scarcely the 
 way to renew acquaintance with Zenobia, and half 
 remorsefully he would go in search of her ; but 
 usually he found her occupied in tying up jam-pots, 
 and too busy to give him anything but short and
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 67 
 
 hurried answers, which, as the week advanced, grew 
 shorter and more hurried. Indistinctly he became 
 aware that the distance between them was growing 
 greater instead of smaller, and that she had not 
 again looked at him as she had done on that first 
 day when they had been left alone together. They 
 were never alone now, although, despite the jams, 
 nothing could have been easier than to contrive 
 momentary tete-a-tetes, but Gregor was not ingenious 
 at this sort of thing and Zenobia did not contrive. 
 Slowly she was withdrawing from him, and he was 
 too happy to realise what this meant. 
 
 For Gregor was happy in those days, those five 
 strange days that were both so long and so short, 
 and the thing he could not understand was that the 
 rapture of his impending priesthood entered in no 
 way into the composition of his happiness. The 
 pale, pure September sky, the voices of the peasants 
 in the fields busy gathering their maize, even the 
 fragrant heaps of apples that lay piled upon the 
 orchard floor seemed to be part of this new happi- 
 ness. That apple perfume was so powerful that, in 
 the enclosed space, it became almost oppressive ; and 
 to Gregor it seemed to mount to his head, and at 
 moments to cloud his understanding. What he saw 
 and felt and heard in these days seemed to be seen 
 and felt and heard through a golden haze, which 
 made everything appear a little different from what 
 it really was. But it was the figure of Wasylya 
 which gained the most from this golden haze. With- 
 out this haze he might have discovered that she
 
 68 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 seldom talked of anything but herself, and that her 
 chief occupation was the care of her personal appear- 
 ance, for the most conspicuous thing about this girl 
 was a perfectly nai've vanity and undisguised pleasure 
 in her own person. That she was considered to be 
 the beauty of the family, not only by others but also 
 by herself, was obvious ; but this conviction was 
 aired in so frank and inoffensive a manner, that it 
 was as impossible to take umbrage at it as at a 
 bird that prunes its wings in the sunshine, in undis- 
 guised delight at the shimmer of its own feathers. 
 When she was surprised before the glass settling 
 a flower in her hair despite the lateness of the 
 season she was seldom seen without one she would 
 make no feint of examining the frame or rubbing off 
 the fly-spots, but would turn round with a radiant 
 smile which seemed to say, ' Am I not worth 
 looking at?' 
 
 ' I can't understand how Zenia can go and stain 
 her fingers with those plums,' she said to Gregor one 
 day, as they were sorting apples in the orchard. ' I 
 wouldn't spoil my hands so for any money,' and, 
 pulling off her glove, she looked approvingly at her 
 white, well-cushioned little hands. 
 
 ' It 's no wonder it's white, with all the stuffs you 
 use,' broke out Paraska, with a younger sister's 
 mockery. 
 
 ' Do you know that she even puts glycerine on her 
 face oh, and other things, too shall I tell about 
 the bread poultice, Wasylya ? ' 
 
 'I will tell him myself!' laughed the other, with
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 69 
 
 perfect good humour. 'Know, then, I had chapped 
 my skin last winter, and wanted to get it right again 
 quickly, for I can't stand anything wrong with my 
 face, so I put on bread poultices, and that's what 
 that little goose finds so shocking. Perhaps you find 
 it shocking too?' 
 
 ' Not shocking, but only uncomfortable,' said the 
 somewhat perplexed Gregor. 
 
 ' Papa says that Wasylya's face is the only toy she 
 has ever played with,' added Paraska. 
 
 At which Wasylya laughingly threw an apple at 
 her sister's head, and a friendly pelting began, 
 which effectually changed the subject of the con- 
 versation.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 'T ET'S all go to the maize-field to-day!' was 
 J * the proposition which Wasylya made on 
 Saturday morning to the family in general. 
 
 The maize harvest was far advanced. All day 
 long the people could be seen coming and going 
 between the fields, and all night long the sound of a 
 fiddle or a flute was to be heard at some point of the 
 village, where the maize-heads, gathered by day, were 
 being peeled in company, and with as much wodki 
 as was necessary to keep the workers awake. Every 
 night the festive sounds came from another direction, 
 and any one who had followed them would have found 
 half the village assembled, according to the neigh- 
 bourly custom of exchanging services, for which no 
 other pay is asked than w6dki> bread, a little music, 
 and possibly dancing, if the peeling gets finished in 
 a reasonable time. The season of the tolokas was 
 the most festive season in Hlobaki, varying in festivity 
 according to the results of the maize harvest. This 
 year was a particularly good ' maize year ' ; and all 
 hands, from those of mere infants to those of totter- 
 ing grandfathers, were busy plucking the golden 
 heads. Masters and servants worked side by side 
 
 70
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 71 
 
 in order to get the treasure stored before the weather 
 broke. Wasylya's proposition was therefore both 
 reasonable and seasonable. 
 
 ' I have to bake the bread for the toloka,' said the 
 Popadia; 'and there are those pears to be dried. I 
 can't spare Zenia either ; but certainly it would be 
 good if you girls lent a hand your father can take 
 you. But mind you do something beyond chattering 
 and getting into the workmen's way ! ' 
 
 'Oh, we'll gather mountains of maize!' cried 
 Paraska, clapping her thin hands, 'so as to have 
 a good toloka \ ' 
 
 ' And you, what are you going to do ? ' asked 
 Wasylya, looking straight at Gregor. ' Would you 
 rather gather maize or help to dry pears ? ' 
 
 ' He had better go to the maize-field, by all means,' 
 said the Popadia, who had rapidly calculated that 
 the number of maize-heads gathered by Gregor would 
 certainly represent a greater value than any service 
 he could render her with the pears. 
 
 ' I will go where I am sent,' said Gregor, thankful 
 to have the question decided for him. 
 
 That afternoon, accordingly, the Pope sallied forth, 
 at the head of his little party of volunteers, and 
 was received with many profound inclinations and 
 welcoming grins by the workmen who had been busy 
 since morning, as was testified by the mounds of 
 maize-heads that lay piled at different points, ready 
 to be transferred to the carts. It was Father Niko- 
 dem himself who, after a due exchange of jocular 
 remarks with his parishioners, gave the signal by
 
 72 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 divesting himself of his coat, and, in shirt-sleeves, 
 plunging straight into the forest of high green blades, 
 that was topped by a sea of feathery heads swaying 
 gently in the spicy breeze. The two girls followed 
 in high glee, tucking up the corners of the blue linen 
 aprons put on for the occasion, so as to serve in guise 
 of bags. Gregor, left alone, stared stupidly at the 
 Pope's black coat flung upon the grass, and wondered 
 whether he ought to take off his too. He felt 
 suddenly aware that he ought not to be here, that 
 this was not his right place. Having hesitated for 
 a moment longer, he walked on a few paces and 
 entered the maize-field at a different point. Some- 
 thing like a stone had been lying on his heart all day, 
 and that stone was the thought, ' To-morrow I shall 
 be betrothed to Zenobia.' 
 
 If he had but eyes to see, there was enough to 
 look at around him, for a maize-field is not a maize- 
 field alone, but gives shelter to a mixed company of 
 products, colonies of hangers-on that live on the 
 bounty of the real lord of the soil. There are the 
 pumpkins, whose golden balls lie everywhere on the 
 path, and whose long, coarse-leaved trails make a 
 network over the floor, and crawl out of the borders 
 on to the very road ; there are the beans, which 
 cling round the straight maize stalks, and drape 
 their festoons from one maize-head to the other ; 
 there are the humble turnips and the towering hemp, 
 that have been stuck in to fill a vacant corner ; and 
 the sunflower, that suddenly confronts you as you 
 wend your way in this miniature forest, whose rust-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 73 
 
 ling blades close above your head, and whose broad 
 leaves and thick stalks bear a character of almost 
 tropical richness. Nor is the gaudiness of tropical 
 flowers wanting, for although those flashes of red 
 and yellow between the stalks are no more than the 
 aprons and headcloths of the gathering women, they 
 might very well pass for the most gorgeous blossoms 
 that ever festooned an Indian jungle. The voices 
 of the gatherers and the continual snapping of stalks 
 made the afternoon alive, while sometimes was heard 
 another sound, a gentle rush like that of water, when 
 a fresh apron or sackful was being poured upon one 
 of the heaps. 
 
 Yet of this gay scene Gregor neither saw nor 
 heard anything. His inner ear was far too occupied 
 in listening to the lines of the song which had 
 haunted him all week, and which was beginning to 
 be his torment 
 
 'Always with me and before me 
 Those black eyes shine ! ' 
 
 The words were becoming true with a fearful 
 truth, and nothing, either, had ever been truer than 
 that, whichever way he turned she was there that 
 everything, everything was slowly transforming itself 
 into her. Was it not she who was peeping out at 
 him from behind each maize stalk ? Was it not her 
 dress that made the dry blades rustle so sharply? 
 And immediately, like a cold hand laid upon his 
 beating heart, the thought would come again : ' To- 
 morrow I am to be betrothed to Zenobia.'
 
 74 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 So busy was he watching the phantom Wasylya 
 that he never saw the real one until she was close 
 beside him. 
 
 ' Is it your nerves that are so bad, or your con- 
 science ? ' she asked, laughing, as she stepped out on 
 to a comparatively free spot. 'You started just now 
 as though you were a murderer and I a policeman.' 
 
 He turned towards her half reluctantly. 
 
 ' Show me your maize-heads ! ' she commanded. 
 
 'My maize-heads?' He looked rather helplessly 
 about him. ' I believe I have none. I have looked 
 at several stalks, but somehow I can't find them.' 
 
 She broke into her clear, rather shrill laugh. 
 
 'Perhaps you don't know what a maize-head is 
 like, in its wrappings ? Come, I will show you the 
 way to set about it ! ' 
 
 She was standing close before him now, with one 
 hand holding together the corners of her heavily- 
 laden apron. The hat had been long ago discarded 
 as inconvenient, and her bare head showed only a 
 lilac aster nestling a little above the ear, while round 
 her throat there glistened five or six rows of coloured 
 beads, the necklace of one of the workers, which she 
 had gleefully borrowed. 
 
 ' Look here ! The first thing is to keep to one 
 row, and not go wandering about from side to side, 
 and the next thing is to have something to put them 
 into. Ah, here, by good luck, is a masterless sack ! 
 There, put it over your shoulder, and now, look at 
 me well and do just as I do. Remember that the 
 more maize we gather the more we shall have to
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 75 
 
 peel to-night. It is our night for the toloka, you 
 know, and papa has ordered two fiddlers.' 
 
 Gregor turned to the stalk beside him, and broke 
 off a head in mechanical imitation of her move- 
 ments. 
 
 'Why do you say nothing? Do you not love 
 music, and dancing, and fun generally? If you don't 
 get another face before the evening I won't sit beside 
 you at the toloka. One has to be in a good humour 
 for a toloka, and to-day you look positively unhappy.' 
 
 ' How can I look happy to-day when it is the 
 last ? ' 
 
 He had taken fright almost before he had spoken, 
 but she was not looking shocked, nor very much 
 surprised. 
 
 ' The last day of what ? ' 
 
 ' Of liberty,' said Gregor, almost against his will, 
 and for a moment their eyes rested on each other, 
 and above their heads they could hear the feathery 
 tops sigh and whistle in the wind. 
 
 It was Wasylya who spoke first, lightly, and yet 
 watching him keenly through her lashes. 
 
 'Ought not last days to be made the most of? 
 I have heard ' 
 
 ' You are right ! ' said Gregor, suddenly throwing 
 back his head. It had come over him with the 
 abruptness of a revelation that there were still 
 several hours of freedom before him ; and, with a 
 rebound, his spirit leapt up from the depth of de- 
 pression to an unreasonable exultation. Yes, she 
 was right ! These remaining hours were too precious
 
 76 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 to be moped away he would drain their delights to 
 the dregs, beating all thought of the morrow from 
 him. 
 
 'Yes, I am fond of music and dancing,' he said, 
 speaking more loudly, and with a broken laugh that 
 did not sound like his own. ' Let us gather so much 
 maize that the toloka must last all night ! Am I 
 doing it right now?' 
 
 ' I have told you that you have only to look at 
 me ! ' said Wasylya, darting back a significant glance 
 over her shoulder, and they moved on side by side, 
 often busy at the same stalk, their fingers sometimes 
 entangled in the fine, silky threads that burst from 
 the wrappings of the maize as fine and as silky as 
 a woman's hair Awhile the shadow of the blades 
 rippled over them in broad stripes. Now and then 
 some small incident varied the monotony of the 
 plucking, as when Wasylya stumbled over a huge 
 pumpkin and caught at his arm for support, or when 
 a green lizard ran over her very toes, and Gregor, 
 making a grab at it, inadvertently touched her foot 
 in its little, worn shoe. She pulled it back with a 
 coquettish laugh, and he stood up straight on the 
 instant, but his heart was beating so fast that he 
 fancied it must choke him. And all the time that 
 he wandered with Wasylya, through what he was 
 now able to recognise as an enchanted forest, he 
 talked and talked in a way he had never talked 
 before, of the most insignificant, the most trivial 
 things, and only for the sake of not being silent ; 
 for to be silent for a moment was to hear that voice
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 77 
 
 inside him repeating the monotonous phrase: 'To- 
 morrow I am to be betrothed to Zenobia.' 
 
 ' I am tired ! ' said Wasylya, as at last, having come 
 to the end of their row, they stepped out on to the 
 neighbouring meadow. A pile had been begun here 
 on the grass, and, opening her apron, she poured her 
 share on to it, and straightway sat down beside it 
 upon the turfy bank. 
 
 ' After all, one must keep some strength for the 
 peeling too. Do you not agree with me ? ' 
 
 ' I agree with everything you say,' said Gregor, in 
 that tone of artificial jocularity which sat so ill upon 
 him. 
 
 ' Then why do you not sit down too ? ' 
 
 He hesitated for a moment and then sat down at 
 two paces from her. 
 
 From between the stalks of maize, and right over 
 the bank on which they sat with their faces to the 
 setting sun, the long, pumpkin trails, with here and 
 there a belated orange-coloured blossom, were crawl- 
 ing in their clumsy fashion. Wasylya leant towards 
 the one beside her and began dragging it up. 
 
 ' I never can make up my mind whether I like 
 spring or autumn best. In spring there are flowers, 
 but in autumn there is fruit, and though I like pretty 
 things, I like good things too ; and then it is generally 
 warmer in autumn, and I love warmth ; and there is 
 music in the village and gay faces, and all that 
 I love.' 
 
 ' Because you love life in general,' said Gregor, 
 watching her operations with the trail.
 
 ;8 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' I do, and even its noises, and even its fusses and 
 fatigues, if only it keeps moving and makes a sound, 
 and is well, just alive. I am like papa ; I think it 
 is wrong to miss an occasion for laughter. People 
 say so many hard things about life, but if only I have 
 enough to eat, and am not too hot and not too cold, 
 and if nothing hurts me anywhere, I am quite con- 
 tent. After all, it is very good to feel as though one 
 could never be ill.' 
 
 While she spoke she had pulled up a long trail, 
 and had begun to wind it round her head in the 
 guise of a sort of monstrous wreath. Even the 
 smallest of the leaves half covered her head. 
 
 ' There, that is as good as a hat ! ' said Wasylya, 
 as she laughingly passed the rest of the trail round 
 her shoulders and down to her waist. ' It quite 
 keeps the sun out of my eyes.' 
 
 Gregor's gaze had not left her yet, though he told 
 himself that it could not be right to look at her as 
 he was doing. Two of the broad pumpkin leaves 
 seemed to spring from her shoulders like a pair of 
 fluttering green wings, another lay upon her breast ; 
 he could see it moving, and the flash of the blue and 
 yellow glass beads below it, and he could see other 
 beads as well the tiny, glistening drops of perspira- 
 tion which shone upon her temples and upon her 
 neck. As she sat thus before him, wreathed in the 
 trails that made a sort of clumsy imitation of vine 
 leaves, and laughing into his face with unabashed 
 black eyes, he seemed to be looking upon a Bacchante 
 fresh from the feast, and, for a moment, astonishment
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 79 
 
 at himself overcame him. He knew that he had had 
 his ideal of womanhood, and that this was not his 
 ideal ; but, through the golden haze which had hung 
 about him all week, he could not recognise any of 
 these things distinctly, and just now he was too busy 
 watching the gleam of white from between her full 
 lips, and wondering what life would be to the man 
 who should feel upon his own mouth that ' second 
 coral-red mouth.' As a child gazes on the ripe fruit 
 that hangs too high for his hand, and in imagination 
 tastes it, so did Gregor look on those tempting lips. 
 
 She put up her hand to pluck the faded aster from 
 her hair, for she had found beside her in the grass a 
 bright, blue gentian. He, not knowing what he 
 did, stretched towards her and touched her fingers, 
 tentatively at first, then, finding that they were not 
 withdrawn, his own closed upon them. 
 
 ' If Zenia saw this ? ' she said, with lowered eyes 
 but no displeasure on her face. 
 
 ' I am not betrothed to Zenia ! ' he said vehemently. 
 
 ' But you are to be to-morrow ! ' 
 
 'Yes, to-morrow!' he groaned, letting go her 
 hand. 
 
 'Just in time,' she whispered, as at a little distance 
 the Pope appeared, panting under a sackful of maize. 
 ' Don't look so desperate,' she added very low ; 
 ' there is still the toloka \ ' And the glance of flame 
 which struck him seemed to run through his blood 
 like hot iron.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SUPPER was hurried over that evening, on 
 account of the toloka, at which Father Niko- 
 dem was again to be the chaperon of his two 
 younger daughters. The Popadia declared herself 
 too tired to put in an appearance, and Zenobia, 
 when questioned, answered very decidedly that she 
 preferred going to bed. It was, therefore, the same 
 company who had been to the maize-field who now 
 went across to the barn. 
 
 ' Hania has asked leave to go too,' said the 
 Popadia to her husband, ' but mind you keep your 
 eye upon her. I know it 's only on account of Jurko 
 she goes ; so long as they peel maize in company 
 I Ve no objection, but I fancy they have other 
 objects in view, so if you see one of them disappear, 
 keep your eye on the other ; never let them both 
 out of your sight at once. Nothing like a toloka for 
 mischief to the girls,' she explained to Gregor. 
 ' When every one is busy, and the corners all dark, 
 nothing is easier than to slip out.' 
 
 ' 1 '11 look after her,' said the Pope, reassuringly, 
 as they went out. 
 
 In the barn a large circle of men and women were 
 
 80
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 81 
 
 squatting around a small mountain of maize, their 
 deft fingers unwrapping each separate head from its 
 delicate, silk-like swaddlings. Already the floor was 
 strewn with the sheathes, carpeting it more softly 
 than the thickest piled carpet could have done, 
 while head after head, relieved of its disguise, flew 
 through the air to increase the yellow pile in the 
 corner. The fiddles had tuned up, and the wodki 
 bottle made its first round. 
 
 ' That 's right, children ! ' the Pope said heartily, as 
 he wended his way to the seats of honour reserved 
 for the family a couple of packing-cases and an 
 overturned tub. ' We 're going to make the maize 
 fly, and the wodki too ' with a comprehensive wink 
 to the company. ' I swear not to dance a step of 
 Kolomeika (the Ruthenian national dance) until the 
 last head is peeled, and I swear not to breakfast 
 until I have danced a Kolomeika \ ' 
 
 A grin ran round the company, disclosing enough 
 sets of flashing teeth to make the envy of half the 
 society ladies in London, then hands as well as 
 tongues set off moving again. 
 
 Gregor found himself placed between Wasylya 
 and Paraska, on the same packing-case with the 
 former, but he could not make up his mind whether 
 to be glad of this vicinity or sorry that he was not 
 sitting on the other side of the circle, where he could 
 have let his eyes rest full upon her face. He felt 
 that to-morrow he could not look at her as he still 
 dared to look at her to-day, and he wanted not to 
 waste a minute of these last hours. Almost opposite 
 F
 
 82 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 he could see Hania, the fair-haired, doll-faced, little 
 servant-girl of the house, with her Jurko beside 
 her both peeling maize so demurely as to make 
 the Popadia's apprehensions appear entirely un- 
 founded. 
 
 Again that feeling of astonishment at himself over- 
 came Gregor. It was so unlike what he knew of 
 himself, to be making part of this noisy company, 
 and to be listening to and even enjoying the lively 
 airs that were being scraped out not far from his ear. 
 Quite plainly he could feel how the infection which 
 floated in the heavy and yet intangibly dissipated 
 atmosphere began to gain upon him. It was as 
 though he had discovered within his usually so 
 austere self a second self, to whom all these things 
 were congenial. The lanterns which dangled from 
 the rafters lighted the big barn fitfully, but the very 
 shadows in the corners seemed to add to the mys- 
 terious excitement of the scene. 
 
 Amid songs and stories and much passing of the 
 wodki bottle, the pile of maize in the centre began to 
 diminish in the same proportion as the pile in the 
 corner began to grow. With terror Gregor noted 
 the swelling of the one and the dwindling of the 
 other; this meant that the time was passing the last 
 precious hours of this precious evening. Of private 
 conversation there had been none between him 
 and Wasylya, nor could there be under the circum- 
 stances ; but out of every trivial word she spoke, out 
 of each of her glances and her movements, Gregor 
 read the conviction of some secret understanding
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 83 
 
 between them, which existed as surely as though it 
 had been put into words. 
 
 It was not very late yet scarcely eleven when, 
 looking across by chance, he saw that Hania was 
 gone from her place. The words of the Popadia 
 came back to his mind : ' When every one is busy, 
 and the corners all dark, nothing is easier than to 
 slip out,' and he vaguely wondered whether Jurko 
 would follow soon. 
 
 ' A mouthful of wodki} the Pope said to him at 
 this moment, reaching him a glass across Paraska's 
 head. ' But you had better take a bite of bread 
 along with it, or you will find the stuff too strong for 
 your head. Here, help yourself! ' Gregor took the 
 loaf, cut off a slice, and turned towards Wasylya to 
 ask whether she would have one, and then only he 
 noticed that the place beside him was empty. A 
 minute ago Wasylya had said to him, ' It is suffo- 
 cating in here, I must manage to get a breath of 
 air,' but he had not then understood. Now he 
 did understand. Having handed back the loaf, he 
 waited until he saw the Pope turn the other way, 
 and, quickly rising, escaped first into the shadows 
 behind him having now to wade his way through 
 the litter of sheathes which reached half-way to his 
 knees and from there slipped easily out by the 
 open door. 
 
 ' Yes, it must have been suffocating in there ' ; he 
 was aware of it only when he felt the night air upon 
 his face. The moon was just rising above the trees, 
 piercing the old orchard with its first shafts. It was
 
 84 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 towards the orchard that it seemed inevitable to 
 turn ; here, in the open yard, where everything was 
 as clear as day, there was obviously nothing to seek. 
 The first trees stood close beside the barn ; the 
 branches of one huge pear-tree even rested upon 
 its roof, and sometimes dropped its fruit into the 
 sky-lights. Gregor traversed the open space quickly, 
 but in the shadow slackened his pace, peering about 
 him with a heart that hammered on his ribs. The 
 leaves on the branches were still thick enough to 
 make a good stand against the moonlight ; twice he 
 thought that he had found what he was looking for, 
 but once it was a crooked apple-tree which he had 
 taken for a human figure; and once the whiteness 
 of one of the old gravestones made him think that 
 he saw her light dress. Then something breathed 
 beside him, and he knew that she was there. 
 
 All this time he had not stopped to ask himself 
 why he was looking for her, nor what he should do 
 when he found her. The odd sensation he had been 
 aware of lately of not being himself, as if some other 
 force that was not his own will had taken over the 
 government of his actions for the time, came over 
 him again, as he more guessed than saw her beside 
 him. Without a word, and without a thought, he 
 put out his arms and took hold of that which met 
 them. There was a little exclamation, half of fright, 
 half of pain, for he had been more vehement than he 
 knew, but there was no resistance. 
 
 ' Once, Wasylya Wasylya, only once ! ' he said, 
 without knowing that he was speaking, and he felt
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 85 
 
 for her lips in the shadow. They were upon his 
 already, those ' coral-red lips ' which he had dreamt 
 of all week in torment of spirit, and whose sweetness 
 he now drank of with closed eyes and brain that 
 began to swim. 
 
 They had not yet drawn apart when, with a shock 
 of panic, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. 
 
 ' I Ve got you, you rogue, have I ? ' said Father 
 Nikodem's voice in his ear, ' and Hania, the demure 
 one too. No, no, my girl, you shall not escape me 
 so ! I Ve promised the Popadia to bring you to 
 justice ! ' 
 
 With one hand still on Gregor's shoulder, the Pope 
 with the other took the girl by the arm and dragged 
 her out into the moonlight. ' You thought you 
 would catch me napping, did you ? but ' 
 
 There he broke off short, for he had seen the face 
 of his daughter. From her he stared back per- 
 plexed at the second prisoner, bending towards him 
 and peering closely into his face. To Gregor it 
 seemed that the weight of his shame must press 
 him straight down into the earth. He could see 
 how the Pope's round eyes grew rounder and larger, 
 while the whites gleamed in the moonlight out of 
 the dark face, almost as though it were the face of a 
 negro ; but at Wasylya he did not dare to look. 
 Then, just as he felt that he could bear this no 
 longer, Father Nikodem released him with a shove, 
 and burst into the most explosive laugh that Gregor 
 had ever heard from his lips. 
 
 'Ah, so that's it, is it? It's come to that, after
 
 86 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 all ? ' he brought out in short sentences, between the 
 fits of suffocating laughter, stamping up and down 
 the while, and bending now to one side and now to 
 the other, as though this were the only means of 
 keeping himself from choking. ' I thought I was 
 after two sparrows, and I 've caught two doves, and 
 just at the moment that they were crossing their 
 bills, too ! Oh, this beats everything ! ' 
 
 ' I am a wretch,' said Gregor desperately. ' Do 
 with me what you like.' 
 
 The Pope stood still beside Gregor, with a violent 
 effort controlling his hilarity. 
 
 ' Why, that is the tragic tone, my son ! What is 
 the need for that? I see quite a different way of 
 looking at the matter, don't you, Wasia?' (It was 
 the name by which he usually addressed his favourite 
 daughter.) 
 
 Wasylya said nothing, but she crept a little nearer 
 to her father, and half hid her face upon his sleeve. 
 Her shoulders heaved slightly, though it was im- 
 possible to say whether she was laughing or crying. 
 
 ' Are you astonished at my taking the thing so 
 quietly ? To be honest with you, I 've seen it coming 
 all week, nor could I see any reason why it should 
 not come so. Don't you remember my telling you 
 that when the four years were over you could come 
 back and take your choice ? Well, if you want my 
 honest advice, I can only say, " Take the one you 
 like best!'" and he laid his big hand on the dark 
 head. 
 
 ' But Zenobia?' said Gregor wildly.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 87 
 
 ' You are not bound to Zenia unless you have 
 said anything to her.' 
 
 ' I have said nothing.' 
 
 ' So much the better. Didn't I tell you from the 
 first that the arrangement was only for us two?' 
 
 ' But every one seems to think it has been so 
 understood ; she herself ' 
 
 ' Don't trouble your head about what has been 
 understood ; and don't imagine that Zenia will go 
 a-begging for a husband because of your failing her. 
 I 'm ready to lay you a bet that she '11 end by taking 
 Hypolit Jarewicz.' 
 
 ' If I knew it was right,' said Gregor, grasping at 
 his head. 
 
 'If you think it is right to marry one sister after 
 kissing the other one in the dark, then stick to your 
 duty, by all means ! ' said the Pope, a trifle im- 
 patiently. ' But have you asked yourself what is to 
 be said of Wasia, supposing it is not I alone who 
 have seen you both in the orchard ? ' 
 
 Just then Wasylya softly lifted her head from her 
 father's arm and gave Gregor one look a look so 
 full of reproach that he could not misread it even by 
 moonlight, and with that same flame in it which had 
 set his blood on fire that afternoon by the maize- 
 field. 
 
 'What do you say?' asked Father Nikodem, 
 looking from one face to the other. ' Shall I lay 
 your hands in each other's or not? ' 
 
 The Pope had got hold of his daughter's fingers, 
 but Gregor abruptly drew back.
 
 88 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' Not until Zenobia has said that I am free,' he 
 said obstinately. 
 
 ' Have your way, you master in scruples ! ' laughed 
 Father Nikodem, good-naturedly. 'We'll consult 
 her at once ; I dare say she has not gone to bed yet. 
 For the sake of two people's night rest it would 
 be as well to have the question settled without 
 delay.' 
 
 Still holding his daughter by the hand, he turned 
 straight towards the house, Gregor following in 
 silence. 
 
 Zenobia was not in bed yet, but she was in her 
 room, and when summoned by her father, appeared, 
 looking scared and rather white, in a faded print 
 dressing-gown, and with her black hair brushed out 
 of her face and hanging in one heavy coil down her 
 back. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' she asked, standing still in the door- 
 way, with one hand holding together the edges of 
 the dressing-gown on her breast, where a button 
 was wanting, while her dark eyes, more open than 
 usual, passed questioningly over the three faces 
 before her. 
 
 ' It is this,' said the Pope, who had sunk heavily 
 into his customary seat beside the big writing-table. 
 ' Here are two young people who have found out 
 that they are fond of each other, but who have taken 
 it into their heads at least one of them has that 
 they cannot be happy without your consent.' 
 
 There was no immediate answer, and in the light 
 of the one low-burning candle which had been lit on
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 89 
 
 the table, it was difficult to read the expression of a 
 face that was almost out of the circle of light. In 
 that pause, full of anguish, the music of the fiddles 
 which could be heard from the barn seemed to 
 Gregor to be scraped out upon his own overstrained 
 nerves. Of Wasylya's face, still crushed against her 
 father, nothing could be seen. 
 
 ' I don't know why you tell me this/ said Zenobia 
 at last, in a voice so cold that it touched Gregor's 
 heated fancy as though with a physical chill. ' I 
 have nothing to do with Gregor Petrow's happiness. 
 He is free to be happy with whomsoever he likes.' 
 
 ' What did I say ? ' asked Father Nikodem, looking 
 at Gregor ; but Gregor himself stepped forward. 
 For him the release was not yet explicit enough. 
 
 ' If by any v/ord or look I have given you to under- 
 stand -' he said earnestly, ' I am ready to fulfil 
 any obligations which you may consider me to have 
 incurred.' 
 
 Even through the shadow Zenobia could be seen 
 to smile, but through the shadow, too, the bitterness 
 of that smile could be read, while the hand upon her 
 breast was clenched more tightly. 
 
 ' No, thank you, Gregor Petrow. I know you 
 don't mean to insult me, but even your proposal 
 shows me how little you know me, and how little 
 we could have suited each other.' 
 
 Just then something glided close past Gregor's 
 arm, and with a soft, kittenish movement, Wasylya 
 almost sprang at her sister. 
 
 'You give him to me, do you not?' she asked,
 
 90 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 putting her cheek against Zenia's, but at the same 
 moment she fell back, for Zenobia with an unex- 
 pected gesture had almost thrown her from her. 
 
 ' How can I give to you what has never belonged 
 to me ? ' she asked passionately. ' I have told you 
 that I have nothing to do with him. Take him, if 
 you will, and do with him what you like.' 
 
 Quickly turning she left the room, but not before 
 Gregor had caught the glance she threw at her 
 sister a lowering glance of more than resentment 
 almost of hatred, and which, in after days, was 
 often to return to his memory with a stab of 
 pain. 
 
 The recognition of what had lain in that glance 
 troubled him even now, but only for a moment, for 
 in the next Father Nikodem had laid Wasylya's 
 hand within his, and everything was swallowed up in 
 the rapture of the present.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 DURING the golden weeks that followed, 
 Gregor was no longer either the fervent 
 aspirant to priesthood nor the humble recipient of 
 the Pope's favours ; he was simply a young man in 
 love. In the sense that other men are young he 
 had never been young before, but few had known 
 the fervour of happiness that came now to his eager, 
 stainless heart, where everything was new and un- 
 touched by the breath of previous passion. No 
 spring had ever seemed to him more full of beauty 
 and delight than was this autumn season. The fast 
 fading marigolds the flower most in favour for 
 Sunday hats, and therefore occupying a corner of 
 every peasant garden now glowing among decay- 
 ing leaves like the last embers of a great conflagra- 
 tion, appeared to him more full of charm than all 
 the wealth of blossoms in May, their pungent odour 
 more delicious than the perfume of violets and haw- 
 thorn. The miniature forest he had wandered in 
 with Wasylya had been cut to the ground : but the 
 brown stubble fields where the maize stalks stood 
 stacked into sugar loaves, festively wreathed in the 
 pumpkin trails which laced them into shape, and 
 
 91
 
 92 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 over whose surface the golden pumpkins themselves 
 lay discovered, had to him a more intoxicating 
 element than ever had green meadow in May. The 
 red and yellow of the birch woods which formed the 
 background of the village was far more grateful to 
 his eye than their tenderest green in spring. For him 
 it was spring the spring of his hitherto so joyless 
 life. Every day as he came from the village, follow- 
 ing the cart-track which, with its rib of green seemed 
 to be the backbone of the grassy common, he looked 
 towards the mountains and the birch woods, and 
 although he saw a sprinkling of snow on the one and 
 a lessening of leaves on the other he felt none of the 
 usual melancholy of autumn, for he knew that it was 
 not winter that was coming for him, but that by the 
 time those branches were bare, upon the spring of 
 his happiness would have followed the summer. 
 
 In the Pope's house, too, everybody seemed 
 satisfied. No doubt it was more customary to 
 marry one's elder daughter before the younger one, 
 but Father Nikodem, whose shrewd eyes had detected 
 the evident sincerity of Hypolit Jarewicz's admira- 
 tion of Zenobia, was quite at rest on that point. If 
 Zenobia were a little spited by Gregor's change of 
 sentiment, so much the better it would drive her 
 all the more surely into Hypolit's arms ; thus calcu- 
 lated Father Nikodem, whose knowledge of women 
 was not quite on a par with that of his own sex so 
 that marrying Wasylya really meant marrying two 
 daughters with one stroke, and there would only 
 remain Paraska to provide for. And besides, what
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 93 
 
 clenched the question for him was that Wasia 
 evidently wanted it so ; the pet child had never 
 asked for an apple or a cake without getting it, so 
 now that she evidently wanted Gregor, why should 
 she not get that too ? 
 
 After the first moment of complete astonishment 
 for of course she had seen nothing coming the 
 Popadia made no objection to the change of pro- 
 gramme. It was a bore certainly to have to alter 
 the clothes which had been prepared for Zenobia, 
 but fortunately Wasia was smaller, which would 
 providentially reduce the process to the taking in 
 of seams and deepening of hems ; also there was 
 comfort in the thought that Zenobia would probably 
 not have left home before the next season's jam- 
 making. The prospect of having to manage without 
 her had already begun to exercise the poor Popadia's 
 mind. Zenobia herself, after that one burst of resent, 
 ment, had sunk into what looked like indifference 
 a rather too chilly indifference to be quite convincing, 
 but an attitude which at least helped to make the 
 situation possible. Her dark apathetic face was the 
 one blot on Gregor's happiness, a constant vague 
 accusation, and when he could avoid seeing it he did. 
 With especial pleasure he listened to every mention 
 which the Pope made of Hypolit Jarewicz ; the mere 
 existence of that promising young man, whom already 
 in his schoolmaster days he had frequently met here 
 as a visitor, was just now an inexpressible comfort 
 to him. To hear of his cleverness, his good prospects, 
 and his obviously serious intentions, was to still the
 
 94 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 uneasiness within him, by telling himself that instead 
 of spoiling Zenobia's life, he was helping her to reach 
 a far more brilliant future than she could have 
 looked for as his wife. The fears, which that look 
 of hatred, intercepted on the night of the toloka, had 
 engendered within him, were dissipated by these 
 soothing reflections. For a moment he had feared 
 that she loved him in the way that he loved Wasylya, 
 but she could not have been so quiet now if that were 
 true so he told himself. That look must have 
 sprung from the natural resentment of the slighted 
 woman, and would die its natural death when her 
 own turn came to be asked in marriage. There 
 were moments when, marking the apathy on the 
 dark face, he almost doubted having seen that look 
 at all. 
 
 But if he could have followed Zenobia to the far- 
 off corners of the orchard, if he could have looked in 
 by the window when she was alone in her bedroom, 
 then he would no more have doubted, for there were 
 times when he would have seen the woman, who 
 appeared to him so apathetic, lying on the ground 
 with her face pressed to the grass, or pacing the floor 
 with nails that drew blood from her tightly-clenched 
 hands, and wide open, flaming eyes that did not look 
 like her own. Small blame to Gregor if he did not 
 guess the truth, since no one of the family not even 
 Wasylya who shared the bedroom with her had ever 
 been witness of one of these fits of overflowing inner 
 rebellion. Once only she was surprised in one of 
 these unguarded moments, but it was only by Hania,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 95 
 
 the servant-girl, whom the Popadia had sent out one 
 evening to give a final shake to a particular apple- 
 tree from which she still expected a last dish of 
 apples to roast for supper. It was getting on for 
 supper-time already, and in her hurry and in the 
 dusk Hania did not see the dark form on the ground, 
 until she had stumbled over Zenia's foot. 
 
 Zenobia sat up abruptly, without having time to 
 dry her eyes, and seeing the shine of her wet face 
 Hania understood what had been that hollow, long- 
 drawn sound which had puzzled her as she came 
 along, and caused her to cross herself twice ; for, in 
 conjunction with the old gravestones, it had unavoid- 
 ably made her think of the souls in purgatory. The 
 state of things was too clear to leave room for dis- 
 simulation, and, recognising this, Zenobia attempted 
 none. 
 
 ' You must tell nobody,' was all she said, after a 
 moment, still sitting on the ground, and almost 
 savagely wiping her eyes with her cotton pocket- 
 handkerchief. 
 
 ' Not if you don't want,' said Hania, with a pro- 
 digious sigh, and then was silent out of pure fellow- 
 feeling ; for the little doll-faced servant-girl had a 
 susceptible heart, and her acquaintance with Jurko 
 had enlightened her regarding the pangs as well as 
 the pleasures of love. 
 
 ' If you love him so much, why do you give him 
 up ? ' she asked, in genuine curiosity. ' I should 
 never give up Jurko for all the sisters in the world.' 
 
 ' He has given me up, Hania,' said Zenobia, not
 
 96 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 loudly but with an intensity of accentuation which 
 rather frightened Hania, 'and I had waited for him 
 for four years ! ' 
 
 A minute ago Zenobia would not have believed 
 that she could speak thus to Hania ; she could not 
 have given away her secret with her own hand, but 
 finding it thus stolen from her, so to say, she was 
 wise enough or weak enough to make no effort to 
 take it back. After those weeks of daily and hourly 
 repression, the relief of showing herself unmasked, 
 even to this foolish servant-girl, proved to be 
 irresistible. 
 
 ' But you could get him back again ; there is still 
 time.' 
 
 Zenobia gave a low, hopeless laugh. 
 
 ' How, I should like to know ? ' 
 
 ' There are different ways ; I cannot tell you 
 which is the best for you but certainly there are 
 ways.' 
 
 ' I don't want him back if he does not love me.' 
 
 'But he will love you, he must love you,' said 
 Hania, with the conviction of experience. ' He will 
 have no choice. It was the same with Jurko and 
 me ; for there was a time when Jurko nearly broke 
 my heart by going after Teresa Pawluk. I prayed 
 all day and I cried all night, and it did not help, 
 and I put more beads round my neck, and a new 
 headcloth on my head, and it did not help either. 
 Nothing helped until I went to Ursula Adamicz, 
 and after I had done what she told me he became 
 mine again.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 97 
 
 ' What did Ursula Adamicz tell you ? ' asked 
 Zenia unwillingly. She knew that Ursula Adamicz, 
 who lived on the other side of the birch wood, had 
 the reputation of being able to do a great deal more 
 than dry herbs or cure cattle. Personally she had 
 never had any dealings with her, but being a 
 Ruthenian, and consequently profoundly supersti- 
 tious, she had never entirely doubted the truth of 
 the powers attributed to her. 
 
 ' What did she tell you to do ? ' 
 
 ' Different things. One was to wash myself all 
 over with spring water, and then to make a cup of 
 tea with the water and give it to Jurko to drink ; 
 another was to sew a hair of my head into the hem 
 of his coat. The cup of tea did not help, though it 
 cost me a good shaking from the Popadia, for she 
 came in just as Jurko was swallowing the last 
 mouthful ; but once my hair was in the hem of his 
 coat he never looked at Teresa Pawluk again.' 
 
 Zenobia gave a half laugh, incredulous and yet 
 not entirely contemptuous. She was still sitting on 
 the ground, with her knees drawn up and her hands 
 clasped around them. To any one who could not 
 read and write and, in truth, Zenobia had not 
 learned very much more than this what she had 
 just heard must have sounded a little ridiculous, 
 but not half so ridiculous as it would have sounded 
 to any woman, not necessarily more intelligent but 
 of more education, and living in different surround- 
 ings. She had not indeed heard of this recipe for 
 a cup of tea, but she had seen sick calves incensed, 
 G
 
 98 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 and dropsical hens made to swallow the tip of a 
 blest palm. 
 
 ' And he is true to you since then ? ' she asked, 
 a little wistfully. 
 
 ' He is like a dog at my heels.' 
 
 Zenobia sighed heavily and was silent again, 
 staring with her tear-blinded eyes between the 
 shadowy tree-stems. 
 
 ' I have never seen Ursula Adamicz ; what is she 
 like ? ' 
 
 ' Old and very wrinkled.' 
 
 ' Would she betray any one who came to her ? ' 
 
 ' Great God, no ! It is her business to be as 
 silent as the grave. She does not betray the girls 
 who come to her, for beauty powders for she has 
 powders for nearly everything and ' (Hania hushed 
 her voice to an awestruck whisper) ' she did not 
 betray Piotr Hadan when his wife died all in a 
 minute, and though everybody knew quite well that the 
 powder he put in her soup was that white stuff they 
 kill rats with, and that he had got it from Ursula.' 
 
 ' He killed her ? ' asked Zenobia, in a sharp, 
 startled voice. 
 
 ' Of course he did ; don't you know the story ? 
 He wanted to marry Angjela Markew, so Zosia had 
 to go. So he went and asked for a powder for the 
 rats, and did it, and it was said that Zosia herself 
 had gathered shirling by mistake instead of parsley 
 for putting into the soup.' 
 
 ' And they are married ? ' asked Zenobia, still 
 listening intently.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 99 
 
 ' They are married, and seem to be happy despite 
 their consciences, though I don't know how they 
 manage it. No doubt Ursula Adamicz could hang 
 him at any moment if she chose, but she won't 
 choose, because she would be putting herself in 
 prison for selling that white powder which they say 
 only doctors ought to sell.' 
 
 'That must be a terrible powder,' said Zenobia 
 below her breath. ' To think that it can do so much 
 and so quickly ! How could she dare to give it to 
 Piotr?' 
 
 ' It was for the rats, he said, and how could she 
 know what he would do with it?' 
 
 ' That is true.' 
 
 ' Ursula Adamicz has never betrayed anybody, 
 and she would not betray you if you went to her. 
 I myself should advise the hair in the hem one of 
 your beautiful long black hairs but Ursula may 
 know something better, for she judges each case by 
 itself. Go to her, Panna Zenia, and you will never 
 have to cry any more ! ' 
 
 In Hania's voice there was a little tremor of 
 earnestness. Her sympathy was quite sincere and 
 her point of view perfectly simple. Zenobia was a 
 far less exacting mistress than Wasylya, who never 
 brushed her own clothes, and made scenes if her 
 flounces were not faultlessly ironed ; therefore, since 
 it was obvious that only one of the young ladies 
 could have Gregor Petrow, Hania naturally preferred 
 to see Zenia successful. 
 
 1 1 don't know if I shall go,' said Zenobia wearily ;
 
 ioo THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' perhaps ; but is that not the Matka (mother) 
 calling you ? ' 
 
 ' The apples ! ' shrieked Hania, abruptly conjured 
 back to the necessities of the moment, and to the 
 acute terror of the Popadia in which she chronically 
 lived. Nothing but her sincere interest in this so 
 thrilling love-affair could have made her risk the 
 scolding which would now infallibly be her lot. 
 
 It was dark by this time, but Zenobia did not rise 
 yet. Still in her cowering attitude she sat on the 
 damp grass, idly listening to the thud of the apples 
 which Hania was shaking from the branches and 
 then groping for on the ground. She was turning 
 over in her head all that she had just heard.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WASYLYA stood before the glass re- arranging 
 the folds of the white cashmere gown that 
 was to be her wedding-dress. Like all the rest of 
 the trousseau, it had originally been cut out for 
 Zenobia, and the necessary alterations had still to 
 be made, nor was there over much time to make 
 them in, seeing that the wedding-day was not a 
 week off. 
 
 ' I told you that the skirt required more shorten- 
 ing,' said Wasylya to the assembled audience, which 
 consisted of her mother, her sisters, and Hania, 
 armed with pins, scissors, and threaded needles. 
 ' Another pin, please, Mamciu, and I will show you 
 what I mean. Any one can see that this dress was 
 not made for me.' 
 
 ' But you don't tread on it any longer,' objected 
 the Popadia wearily, for the details of the toilet 
 interested her far less than those of the prospective 
 wedding-feast, at present absorbing all her energies. 
 
 ' I don't tread on it, no but it doesn't show my 
 feet, either, and I should like to know why I should 
 hide my feet, since I 'm not in the least ashamed 
 
 of them ? ' 
 
 101
 
 102 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 She looked down coquettishly at the deliciously 
 narrow little foot thrust out from beneath the white 
 hem. 
 
 ' If you think it such a pity to hide them, I wonder 
 you don't get married barefooted/ remarked Paraska, 
 in true younger-sister fashion. 
 
 ' I shouldn't mind it a bit if the weather were 
 warmer. I know that Zenia is not so particular 
 about showing her feet, and that is why she had the 
 dress cut so long ; but since it is I who am to wear 
 it ' 
 
 She laughed, looking mischievously towards 
 Zenobia's foot, which, though well-moulded and in 
 perfect proportion to her figure, was not by any 
 means so delicate an object as was Wasylya's. 
 
 ' Shall I cut a strip off the bottom ? ' asked 
 Zenobia stolidly. ' If you want it so short as 
 that, there will be enough over for the hem, at 
 any rate.' 
 
 ' No, no ! No cutting ! Only a mark with a pin. 
 How do I know what I may need the dress for, later ? 
 And who knows whether, when I am married, I may 
 not want to hide my toes. I mean to be tremendously 
 sedate as Gregor's wife.' 
 
 She squeezed together her short, thick, black eye- 
 lashes as she said it, and looked at her sister from 
 between them. She usually looked at Zenobia when 
 naively parading her triumph, but whether out of 
 mere delight in her victory, or from that unthinking 
 and almost irresponsible cruelty which causes a child 
 to pull off the wings of a fly, it would have been hard
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 103 
 
 to say. Curiosity, most likely, had the chief share 
 in these experiments, for every woman is a riddle to 
 every other woman, and the interest of finding out 
 exactly how much Zenobia felt, and to what degree 
 her experiments hurt, were, in great part, the cause 
 of their being tried. 
 
 ' Give me the orange blossoms, will you ? ' she now 
 said. ' I want to see whether they will look best at 
 the neck or on the front of the dress.' Then, as 
 Zenobia, without moving a muscle of her face, 
 handed her the white cotton flowers, which went 
 by the name of orange blossoms, Wasylya held 
 them to her breast and apparently forgot to take 
 them away again, gazing in a sort of ecstasy at 
 her own reflection. Suddenly she uttered an ex- 
 clamation, leaning sharply forward towards the 
 glass. 
 
 ' Great heavens ! What do I see ? ' 
 
 ' What ? ' asked four voices in one breath. 
 
 ' A pimple on my forehead ! Another ! Several 
 pimples ! Why, it is a regular rash, there, under my 
 hair. Oh, fancy being married with a rash ! And I 
 wanted to look my best!' 
 
 ' It will be gone again by this day week,' said the 
 Popadia soothingly. 
 
 ' How do I know it will be gone? It may be 
 worse by this day week. It 's the same sort of rash 
 that I got in summer when I was heated and put my 
 face into cold water, and that lasted a fortnight. I 
 suppose I must have got another chill perhaps the 
 other day after that walk. Orange blossoms and
 
 104 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 pimples ! It 's impossible ! Oh, what shall I do, 
 what shall I do ? ' 
 
 She was almost in tears as she examined her face 
 in the glass, and, despite the soothing assurances of 
 her mother and Hania, and even of the now 
 sympathising Paraska, was not to be entirely com- 
 forted. 
 
 ' Why do you say nothing, Zenia ? ' she asked 
 fretfully, stung by her elder sister's somewhat 
 contemptuous silence. ' Do you too think it will 
 be gone ? ' 
 
 ' I think it no great matter whether it is gone 
 or not.' 
 
 Wasylya shot a resentful glance towards her 
 sister. 
 
 ' Perhaps it does not matter ; Gregor will not 
 find me ugly, even with the rash,' she said, in the 
 irresistible desire of venting her grievance upon 
 somebody. 
 
 ' Perhaps not,' answered Zenobia, as stolidly as 
 ever; but Hania, watching curiously, saw a quick 
 contraction about lips and eyelids, and, with a 
 woman's instinct, knew that the blow had struck. 
 
 That evening Zenobia came in late for supper, 
 which was all the more astonishing, as the day had 
 been wet throughout. 
 
 ' Where have you been ? ' asked her mother 
 querulously. ' I wanted you to help me with the 
 pirogi.' 
 
 ' Lying down on my bed. My head was aching ; 
 probably you did not see me in the dark.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 105 
 
 ' But your hair is quite wet ! ' cried Paraska. ' You 
 can't have been on your bed all the time.' 
 
 Zenobia put up her hand and felt her hair, 
 on which the big raindrops flashed in the lamp- 
 light. 
 
 ' No, not all the time,' she said slowly. ' I was 
 also out in the orchard ; I wanted to see if the air 
 would help my head.' 
 
 ' And it did help it, I suppose,' remarked Wasylya. 
 ' You have got quite a colour now.' 
 
 Zenobia's cheeks were indeed glowing as though 
 from the contact with the air ; she appeared to be at 
 once excited and confused, and breathed rather more 
 quickly than usual, after the manner of a person who 
 has been walking fast. 
 
 ' Yes, it may have helped,' she said very seriously, 
 as she applied herself to her supper. 
 
 Outside in the passage, meanwhile, Hania was 
 nodding her head approvingly over a pair of ex- 
 cessively muddy boots. 
 
 ' She has not told me, but I know where she has 
 been,' she murmured under her breath. ' She has 
 borne a good deal, but the wedding-dress was too 
 much for her this morning.' 
 
 And in haste Hania caused the muddy boots to 
 disappear behind the kitchen cupboard, in case they 
 should meet the Popadia's eagle eye, for their state 
 made it quite evident that they had been outside the 
 orchard. 
 
 The few remaining days of Wasylya's betrothal 
 were as full of furbelows that were being sewed as of
 
 io6 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 tarts and pies that were being baked. The chronic 
 state of trying-on, on which she had entered, was a 
 phase of her existence during which Wasylya ought 
 by rights to have been perfectly happy, and yet she 
 could not be perfectly happy because of the fear of 
 not looking her best. That rash on the forehead 
 was not disappearing quickly enough for her taste, 
 and this despite the miscellaneous advice collected 
 from every available person. Every one in the house, 
 beginning from Gregor himself and down to the 
 servants, was earnestly consulted as to the best 
 means of recovering the flawlessness of her com- 
 plexion in time, but few of the advisers would take 
 the matter seriously enough. 
 
 ' I should recommend starvation,' said the Pope, 
 with a jocularity that was maddening under the 
 circumstances. ' You Ve probably eaten something 
 that has disagreed with you ; but if you live on 
 water and dry bread for three days your complexion 
 will come round.' 
 
 The Popadia advised cooling drinks, and uncorked 
 more than one bottle of her famous raspberry juice, 
 which Wasylya finding it far more to her taste than 
 her father's recipe drank of copiously, reclining on 
 the sofa the while, partly because to play the invalid 
 was to be exempted from all necessity of helping her 
 mother in the kitchen, and partly because the posi- 
 tion was favourable to the display of her feet and 
 ankles, of which she was so proud. Lotions and 
 ointments, too, were called into requisition, with the 
 effect that, on the day before the wedding, the rash,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 107 
 
 although still visible, could no longer be considered 
 as a serious blemish. 
 
 ' It won't be noticed from a distance, I think,' said 
 Wasylya, with a sigh of resignation, as she settled 
 herself among the cushions of the sofa; 'and then 
 there is the veil. But I shall have to put it up at 
 dinner, and those Jarewicz girls have such horribly 
 sharp eyes ! Perhaps it will be paler still by to- 
 morrow. Zenia, another glass of raspberry juice, 
 please ; it cools me more than anything.' 
 
 ' Presently,' said Zenobia, who had entered the 
 room with a tray of freshly-baked cakes. 
 
 ' They look good,' remarked Wasylya, watching 
 Zenia as she ranged them on the piano, ' but I 
 daren't eat one now for fear of my complexion. 
 What a good thing it is to have a complexion like 
 yours, Zenia ! Always the same colour. Heat and 
 cold seem to make no difference to it.' She gave 
 the peculiar little laugh she had got into the habit 
 of uttering when she was going to try one of her 
 experiments. 
 
 'It's almost a pity, is it not, that it's not you 
 who are going to be married to-morrow ? There 's 
 nothing wrong with your complexion, nothing dif- 
 ferent from usual, I mean, for I suppose nothing 
 could ever make it white.' 
 
 Ranging the cakes with her back turned, Zenobia 
 made no answer. 
 
 ' Tell me, Zenia,' began Wasylya again, while 
 the chronic curiosity within her became suddenly 
 acute, ' do you really feel nothing at all, or are you
 
 io8 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 only pretending? You don't hate me, do you, 
 for taking him away? I should not like to be 
 hated. There would still be time to change 
 places, you know if he consents ! ' she added, 
 with a little self-satisfied chuckle. ' Say, do you 
 want him back again ? I dare say I can get another 
 husband.' 
 
 Zenobia turned round suddenly, with a livid face, 
 and with those wide-open eyes whose size always 
 took one by surprise in the rare moments when they 
 were fully revealed. 
 
 ' If you don't like to be hated, then never speak 
 again like that ! Would you give him up if I asked 
 you to ? No, you would cling to him all the tighter. 
 You are playing with me like a cat with a mouse ; 
 but I am not a mouse, and you had better not make 
 me desperate.' 
 
 There seemed to be more words on her lips, but 
 she forced them back abruptly, for Gregor was enter- 
 ing by the opposite door. He had heard no more 
 than the last sentence, and that but indistinctly, but 
 the tone in which it had been spoken was enough to 
 make him look from the face of one sister to the 
 other, trying to guess what had passed. That some- 
 thing had passed was evident from Zenobia's pallor, 
 as well as from the look of astonishment almost of 
 consternation in Wasylya's face. A momentary 
 disturbance came over him but vanished again as his 
 betrothed stretched her hand towards him, calling 
 him to her as though in need of protection. With- 
 out a further word Zenobia took up her tray and
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 109 
 
 went out, to return a few minutes later with a glass 
 in her hand. 
 
 ' Here is the juice,' she said, and, though she spoke 
 quite steadily, Gregor noticed that her hand was 
 shaking and her colour had not yet returned. 
 
 ' And you really think I shall be able to stand the 
 orange blossoms to-morrow ? ' asked Wasylya for the 
 fiftieth time, when they were again alone. 
 
 He echoed only the last word, probably he had 
 not heard the others. 
 
 ' To-morrow ! ' he mused, looking past her at the 
 little square window which a gorgeous sunset was 
 turning into a sheet of reddish gold. ' How often have 
 I longed to be able to say " to-morrow," and now it 
 has come ! Look, Wasia, the sun is going down 
 already ! Only one more night the last that holds 
 us apart.' 
 
 To-morrow ! He went home with the word ham- 
 mering in his head, beating about his heart, and 
 seeming to career through the very blood in his 
 veins, with the speed of a messenger of good tidings. 
 Oh, the darkness, the sealed-up mystery of those 
 to-morrows, which so long as they remain to-morrows 
 are so full of delight, but which turn into such dif- 
 ferent to-days ! like a figure which seems a veiled 
 beauty so long as we do not see its face, but which, 
 abruptly unmasking, strikes terror into the heart by 
 the hideousness of its countenance. To-morrow ! 
 Had Gregor been able, not to guess, but only to 
 conceive what that to-morrow was to give him, most 
 certainly he would rather have held back the hours
 
 no THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 which now seemed to him to drag so slowly ; to spin 
 out that one short night, which he now regarded as 
 the last obstacle to his happiness, into something 
 indefinite and never-ending. 
 
 There are such things as apprehensions of coming 
 evil, nameless terrors of the mind which come from 
 no one knows where, but none of these touched 
 Gregor. No cloud of doubt lay upon his expecta- 
 tions, as early, very early, next morning he set his 
 face along the cart-track which had been his path 
 to happiness for so many days now. The humble 
 huts he had passed by were gorgeous just now with 
 the gold of their pumpkins piled in mounds against 
 their walls, and of their maize hanging in bunches 
 beneath the broad eaves and sometimes fringing the 
 whole length of a roof. The sun was not yet up, 
 but the assurance of its coming was written on the 
 pale, pure sky and on the lightly frosted grass. The 
 best setting to a wedding-morn which the season 
 could afford the newly fallen snow-wreaths on the 
 distant mountains seemed perfectly in keeping with 
 the scene, as did the white of the birch stems, now 
 almost bare of leaves and seeming like a vista of 
 marble columns leading to some distant sanctuary. 
 
 It was not till he was quite near the house that 
 Gregor began to wonder at its silence. True, it was 
 very early still, but yet he had expected more signs 
 of bustle. Had he not left the Popadia moaning 
 over the many jobs still to do, and, although the 
 wedding was not to take place till midday, was he 
 not coming thus early himself in hopes of being able
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME in 
 
 to lend a helping hand at any point were it might be 
 required ? being prepared to lay a table, or even to 
 scour a saucepan, if necessary. 
 
 At the gate, still no movement, and not a window 
 open on this side of the house ! Could he have 
 made a mistake about the hour? But no, there was 
 the first sunbeam striking sparks from the white 
 mountain tops. Fancy oversleeping oneself on such 
 a day, thought Gregor, as he went in by the gate, 
 which he had never found closed either by day or 
 by night. The front door was still locked, but the 
 back door to which he went round stood open. 
 Nobody yet, either in the entrance or in the wide 
 open kitchen, where unwashed pots and pans, speak- 
 ing of yesterday's activity, stood about. His first 
 impression was that the house was still asleep, but, 
 having stood still for a moment, he became aware of 
 an inexplicable sound which seemed at first like the 
 hum of flies, with now and then a gentle hiss, as of 
 water spilled. He listened again, and the hum 
 resolved itself into a murmur of voices, and the hiss 
 into the nervously accentuated ss of whispered words. 
 Then, for the first time, fear sprang upon him, like 
 some animal that has been lying in wait At the 
 end of a passage a door stood open, and towards 
 it Gregor walked straight, though he knew it was 
 the door of the bedroom where both Zenobia and 
 Wasylya slept, and which he had never entered 
 before. It was not a large room, and it seemed to 
 him full of people, some of whom he knew and 
 some who were strange to him. He recognised one
 
 112 
 
 or two of the farm servants and felt momentarily 
 shocked at their presence, for there were men among 
 them. Not thinking anything nor surmising any- 
 thing, but only more frightened than he had ever 
 been in his life, he pushed his way through the small 
 crowd, which paid no attention to him, but kept its 
 eyes all turned in one direction. Then he became 
 aware of the Pope sunk on to his heels at the foot 
 of a wooden bedstead and sobbing like a child, with 
 his head among the bedclothes, while beside him 
 Paraska sat on the floor, rocking her thin body from 
 side to side. On a chair sat the Popadia, not crying, 
 but very stiff and yellow in her soiled night-cap, from 
 under whose edges the grey hairs strayed over her 
 eyes in long dry wisps. Zenobia he did not see. 
 Wasylya ? What was that old woman doing to her ? 
 With a sudden movement of anger Gregor pushed 
 aside the peasant who bent over the pillow with her 
 ear held downwards, as though she were listening 
 for something. 
 
 Wasylya was lying on her back, with her mouth 
 a little open, and with both arms stretched rigidly 
 before her on the bedclothes. Against the black of 
 her disordered hair her face looked of an almost 
 bluish pallor, and her closed eyes appeared to be 
 sunk rather deeply in her head. Gregor told himself 
 this, even while unconsciously noting each small 
 detail, such as the frayed edging of her night-gown, 
 or the empty glass with the spoon in it which stood 
 beside the bed, and in which the flies were collecting 
 around the last drops of sugary juice. Without
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 113 
 
 speaking he bent down and touched her hand, then 
 started upright and looked first towards the mother. 
 There was vacancy in the glance which met his, but 
 the grey head began to nod slowly as though it were 
 saying, ' Yes, yes, it is so ! ' and, having begun, 
 apparently could not stop, but went on mechanically 
 and regularly nodding, after the manner of certain 
 china figures. Then Gregor looked at the next face 
 it was that of the old woman whom he had pushed 
 aside and he read there the same thing. Behind 
 him, from different points of the room, there came 
 loudly-breathed, noisy sighs; on the floor Paraska 
 was snivelling audibly, while in one corner Hania, 
 with her apron thrown over her head, was uttering 
 a species of suffocated howl. Gregor looked at them 
 all from one face to the other it was easier to read 
 the truth reflected there than to spell it out for him- 
 self upon that other face against the pillow, and 
 every face, both the seen ones and the unseen ones, 
 gave him back the same answer, ' Yes, it is so ! Yes, 
 it is so ! ' 
 
 H
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 FOUR days after the one that was to have been 
 his wedding-day, Gregor was back again in 
 his uncle's house. The process of getting there, as 
 well as the resolve which had led to his departure 
 from Hlobaki, was marked in his memory by a great 
 blank. Of what happened after he had got that 
 dumb answer to his dumb question he could never 
 afterwards, even by the most careful reflection, give 
 himself an account. He supposed that he must have 
 eaten during those days, since his strength had not 
 failed him, and he had a confused recollection of 
 being dragged back from the bed on which the dead 
 girl had been laid out in state ; but, even her image 
 in the white dress that showed her ankles so plainly, 
 and with the cotton orange blossoms on her breast, 
 was faint and blurred, like something seen at a dis- 
 tance. In all these featureless days there was one 
 moment only which was perfectly and painfully 
 c l ear the moment after the funeral, when all the 
 mourners were gone and he found himself alone in 
 the little wooden church which still reeked of the 
 incense used during the ceremony, and where stood 
 the wooden platform on which the coffin had been
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 115 
 
 placed. Outside, the workmen were still busy with 
 the grave ; through the open door he could hear the 
 clink of their spades and the ring of their careless 
 voices. But even had they been gone it was not 
 beside that freshly-dug grave that he would have 
 thrown himself on his knees, it was before those 
 golden gates through whose lattice-work he could 
 indistinctly see the altar. To the altar he felt him- 
 self drawn strongly, irresistibly. Kneeling before it, 
 with eyes desperately turned towards it, it was now 
 that he began to come to his senses, to recover that 
 individuality which he seemed to have laid from him 
 on the day when, stepping off the cart which had 
 brought him to Hlobaki, he had met the gaze of 
 those black eyes, whose gaze had transformed the 
 world for him, and himself in the world. On that 
 day he had lost himself out of his own sight, as it 
 were, and painfully now amid a convulsion of the 
 soul that with its long-drawn plaints and breathless 
 sobs came near to being a convulsion of the body 
 he was rinding himself again. 
 
 ' God's scourge ! God's scourge ! ' he groaned, as, 
 with forehead that touched the floor, he lay before 
 those golden gates which to his excited fancy seemed 
 to have closed themselves for ever in his face. ' It is 
 His judgment, and I have deserved it oh, tenfold ! ' 
 
 The boards were smeared with fresh mud off the 
 boots of the coffin-bearers who had stood there a 
 minute ago, but he did not heed it, as, regardless of 
 the long soutane and black sash he had always 
 watched over so reverently, he prostrated himself
 
 n6 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 after the manner of peasants. If the detail could have 
 pierced to his notice it would only have added to the 
 bitter satisfaction of the moment, so great was the need 
 he felt of debasing himself, of humbling himself under 
 the weight of the almighty hand which he thought to 
 be aware of upon him, even with his bodily senses. 
 
 ' His scourge ! His scourge ! ' he repeated, dragging 
 himself on his knees a little nearer to the sanctuary. 
 ' His scourge for the faithless man ! ' 
 
 There were two distinct acts of faithlessness 
 weighing upon his soul, but his want of fidelity 
 to Zenobia was the one that pressed most acutely 
 just now. That sense of guilt in her presence which 
 his personal happiness had always succeeded in 
 suffocating, had flared up into blazing self-accusation, 
 now that that happiness had ceased. He had aban- 
 doned her for Wasylya, and God had punished him 
 by taking Wasylya from him. To the childlike 
 cast of his mind, as well as to that natural sense of 
 piety which could never die within him, the matter 
 appeared quite simple. But it was not to Zenobia 
 alone that he had been faithless, it had been to him- 
 self as well. Whither had flown that zeal which had 
 been born in his heart during the night that he had 
 watched upon the village common? Whither that 
 yearning towards the fulfilment of his vocation, 
 which had never left him for one hour in all the four 
 years at the seminary ? All the impatience which he 
 had felt in himself lately had not been for the day 
 of his ordination, but for his wedding-day. His 
 thoughts and visions had been the thoughts and
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 117 
 
 visions of any gross-minded peasant, of any frivol- 
 ous worldling who hopes to possess the woman that 
 pleases him. Ah ! Father Spiridion had been right 
 when he had spoken of spiritual pride. Others had 
 looked upon him as a saint, he himself had made 
 comparisons between his own conduct and that of 
 his comrades, and now, after four years of rigid self- 
 discipline, he had in one minute become weaker 
 than the weakest of them could have been. Oh, he 
 deserved to lose her, he deserved it ! But even as 
 he told himself so, he knew, with that certainty that 
 cannot deceive, that the wound in his heart would 
 never heal ; that, pour what floods of resignation he 
 would upon his soul, the pain of losing her would 
 remain as sharp as ever, base and earthly being 
 as he was, incapable of that higher resignation 
 wherein God's creatures should find peace never 
 having felt baser and smaller than now, as, cowering 
 under the chastening hand, he pressed his face 
 against the mud-stained boards in a very passion of 
 humiliation. In this alone there was relief: to feel 
 that hand almost tangibly upon him, since this was 
 a blow which only from that hand and from no 
 other, could be endured. He had heard of people 
 who did not believe in that hand, and in the midst 
 of his anguish he asked himself wonderingly what 
 those sort of people do when stricken as he was 
 stricken. It was a speculation which surpassed his 
 rather limited imagination. 
 
 When, half an hour later, he left the church, the 
 workmen had done with the grave. He looked
 
 towards the fresh mound and hesitated ; the craving 
 to throw himself upon it, and to weep out what 
 remained of his strength, was for a moment almost 
 irresistible. Then he remembered that he had just 
 been weeping before another sanctuary ; would not 
 the tears of resignation and of penance be defiled by 
 those of pure regret which he felt now rising to his 
 eyes ? With a hurried movement he passed on, as 
 though flying from a temptation. 
 
 Before night he was in his uncle's house, without 
 having looked further into the future. He had not 
 got so far as that yet. The necessity of leaving 
 Hlobaki had alone been clear to him, and on that 
 necessity he had acted, almost without reflection. 
 After that burst of mental energy in the church, 
 exhaustion had come over him a certain stiffness 
 of mind which made consecutive thought an almost 
 unbearable fatigue. It was the interval which 
 Nature required to collect her scattered forces before 
 taking up the further battle of life. If it were 
 possible to live without thinking, it might be said 
 that Gregor thought nothing in these days, least of 
 all did it occur to him to think over the circum- 
 stances attending Wasylya's death. To look for an 
 explanation of the catastrophe could not come near 
 a mind which accepts everything as coming straight 
 from heaven. 
 
 Gregor's uncle, far more astonished than pleased 
 at his abrupt appearance, watched his guest per- 
 plexedly, and wondered how long he was going to 
 have him on his hands. Nothine could have been
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 119 
 
 easier than to turn him out of the house, only that 
 this small government official, being a prudent man, 
 thought it a pity to quarrel with Gregor, until it was 
 known for certain that he was going to be a failure. 
 The collapse of the marriage was distinctly dis- 
 appointing, and the circumstances tragical enough 
 to impress even the narrowest and driest nature ; 
 but time was known to do wonders, and accordingly 
 Filip Petrow waited with as good a grace as he 
 could command. 
 
 When he had waited for several weeks, and 
 become disagreeably aware that Gregor was show- 
 ing no signs of departure, but continued to 
 divide his time between long hours in the church 
 and solitary wandering about the country, Filip 
 Petrow thought that the moment for speaking 
 had come. 
 
 ' I see that the bishop is to ordain on the 3Oth,' 
 he observed one evening at supper, pointing to a 
 paragraph in the Lemberg paper, which the evening 
 post had brought. 
 
 'Is he? ' asked Gregor indifferently, as he took the 
 sheet which his uncle pushed towards him across the 
 table. When he had read the paragraph he raised 
 his sad eyes. 
 
 ' Why do you tell me this ? It has nothing to do 
 with me now \ ' 
 
 ' It could have a great deal to do with you if you 
 chose. There is still time to prepare ; you always 
 intended to be ordained together with Prokup and 
 Franek.'
 
 120 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' That was before ' said Gregor, beginning to 
 
 tremble. 
 
 ' I know it was, but everything need not come to 
 an end because of one misfortune. Look here, 
 Gregor, I think it is time for you to tell me your 
 plans.' 
 
 Gregor stared with his empty blue eyes at his 
 uncle. 
 
 ' Plans ! I have no plans.' 
 
 'But you will have to make some. You know 
 quite well that I cannot have you here eternally, 
 and you know quite well that you will have to live. 
 Have you considered how you mean to live ? You 
 don't want to go back to the schoolmaster business, 
 I suppose?' 
 
 Gregor sat looking at his uncle, still without 
 speaking. 
 
 'You have studied for the priesthood and for 
 nothing else ; therefore nothing seems clearer than 
 that you must become a priest, and the sooner the 
 better. Who knows when the next ordination may 
 take place? Certainly not before the end of the 
 winter ; and have you thought of where you are to 
 spend this winter?' 
 
 Gregor put his hand to his forehead ; he had not 
 even thought of that. 
 
 'You should be ready for this ordination, and 
 you can be if you choose.' 
 
 'But I have no wife/ said Gregor, in a deeply 
 moved voice. 
 
 ' You can get one in plenty of time still. The
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 121 
 
 Pope Mostewicz has other daughters besides the 
 one who died. I always understood that it was 
 the elder one whom you had first thought of? Well 
 then, why not think of her again ? After having 
 studied at Mostewicz's expense it would scarcely do 
 for you to look for your wife outside his house. 
 But there is no time to lose, and no reason why you 
 should not go to Hlobaki to-morrow.' 
 
 'Impossible! It is impossible!' cried Gregor, 
 overturning a glass in the vehemence with which 
 he started from the table, and without another word 
 he left the room. 
 
 He had been tramping about for hours among the 
 wintry fields that afternoon, and, having lain down, 
 fell fast asleep from sheer physical fatigue. But 
 when, after two hours, he woke up, he knew im- 
 mediately that he would not sleep again that night. 
 The body rested, it was the mind that regained the 
 ascendency. Those few phrases that had been 
 exchanged at supper stood ranged before his inner 
 vision, as in former days his scholars used to stand 
 drawn up in order, waiting to be examined, and they 
 had been waiting thus all the time he was asleep, 
 as he now became aware. 
 
 Impossible ! But why was his uncle's suggestion 
 impossible ? Was there anything else that was more 
 possible? Filip Petrow had said nothing that was 
 not strictly true ; he would have to live, not only in 
 the sense of feeding and clothing himself, but also 
 in the sense of having some object which would 
 make existence seem worth while. Out of the wreck
 
 122 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 of the past there was nothing but that hope of 
 priesthood which remained to him ; could he throw 
 that away ? Not that he was worthy of it ah, far 
 more unworthy surely than when he had kept his 
 vigil on the village common ! but that nothing else 
 could suffice to give him back the power of living. 
 And to be a priest he must have a wife, and what 
 other wife could he possibly choose than the one 
 woman to whom he owed a reparation? Was it not 
 towards this that Providence had been leading him 
 along so rough a path ? Lying back on his pillow, 
 with his face turned up to the ceiling, on which the 
 street lantern opposite threw a pale reflection, Gregor 
 tried to realise to himself what exactly was his posi- 
 tion with regard to Zenobia. What was she to him ? 
 A woman whom he had once thought to love until 
 he had found out what really was the thing which 
 men called by that name. A woman whom he had 
 cruelly slighted, while never ceasing to esteem, and 
 who perhaps loved him. Doubtless she would be 
 the right helpmate to have at his side in the life of 
 serious work, which was what he began to see before 
 him, bare of all those dallyings and soft pleasures of 
 which he had dreamed, but oh, so briefly ! For him 
 the recreations of life had ceased, and there remained 
 only the work and Zenobia could work, he was sure 
 
 of that better, no doubt, than ! no, he could 
 
 not speak the name even in thought, without the 
 wound beginning to ache. 
 
 And that, too, was true what his uncle had said 
 about the impossibility of looking for his wife else-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 123 
 
 where, since it was Father Nikodem's money which 
 had made priesthood possible to him. How strange 
 that he should not have thought of this before ! It 
 could only be because he had thought of absolutely 
 nothing. Having remembered it now, the urgency 
 of the reason began to grow so rapidly in his mind, 
 and the necessity of action to press upon him so 
 heavily, that he found it difficult to lie still in his 
 bed. Yes, he would go to her without delay ; but 
 would she listen to him now? If not, he would 
 accept his rejection as part of his punishment one 
 more reason for humbling himself to the dust. 
 
 On the next day, without further hesitation, but also 
 without joy, with the calmness of one who fulfils a 
 self-evident duty, Gregor started for Hlobaki.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE snow was dropping slowly from a low, grey 
 sky as Gregor stopped before the familiar gate. 
 In the mist of flakes which veiled the irregular circle 
 of crouching huts, the village common might have 
 been a plain stretching into immeasurable distance. 
 From the outside the house looked very still, just as 
 it had looked on that frightful morning, thought 
 Gregor, with a shudder ; but in the entrance, and 
 while he was shaking the snow from his shoulders, 
 he could hear the voice of the Popadia, high and 
 strident as ever, disputing with somebody behind a 
 closed door. Hania, having peeped out of the kitchen, 
 seemed, on seeing him, to become suddenly trans- 
 fixed with astonishment, her open-mouthed, goggle- 
 eyed face remaining immovable in the chink. 
 
 'Is the Pope at home?' asked Gregor, at which, 
 to his consternation, she burst into tears. 
 
 ' Has anything new happened ? ' he asked, but 
 without emotion. 
 
 ' No, no, only the old thing ; but it is so dreadful, 
 so dreadful ! I cannot sleep for thinking of it.' 
 
 She had come out of the kitchen by this time, 
 and was fumbling for his hand, which, while pressing 
 
 124
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 125 
 
 on it the obligatory kiss, she managed to cover 
 with tears. 
 
 ' The Popadia is engaged ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, in the dining-room, bargaining with Sylvester 
 Robak about the price of his marriage.' Suddenly 
 she looked up straight at him. ' What have you 
 come for? Not to woo Panna Zenia?' 
 
 Upon her round face, that was so like the face of a 
 wax doll, and on which all strong emotions sat so 
 incongruously, something like terror was grotesquely 
 painted. Gregor gazed at her in astonishment. 
 ' She must have been fond of her mistress,' was the 
 thought which crossed his mind, unconsciously 
 inclining him more indulgently towards the foolish 
 little servant. He had not answered her when the 
 Popadia came along, in a dressing-jacket he knew of 
 old, not looking very different from what Gregor had 
 always seen her. Just now, in fact, there was an 
 unusual shade of satisfaction on her face, for the 
 bargain with Sylvester Robak had been distinctly 
 favourable. In the crises of life it is a great thing 
 to have a quantity of small habits to fall back upon, 
 and which to our petty natures often do better 
 service than any more exalted source of consolation ; 
 and the necessity of keeping the storeroom in order, 
 and of seeing that the apples did not freeze, nor the 
 preserved plums grow mouldy, had been so soothing 
 an occupation as to avert anything like a breakdown 
 of the nerves. Instead of beginning to cry, as 
 Hania had done at sight of Gregor, her face showed 
 as much pleasure as it was capable of.
 
 126 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' Gregor Petrow ! Well, it is time you should 
 think of us ! I saw you getting out of the sledge, 
 but I was not quite done with Sylvester Robak. 
 The Pope leaves everything to me now. You have 
 not seen him yet ? You will find him very much 
 changed.' 
 
 Looking closely at her Gregor saw that she too 
 was rather changed, after all ; the wrinkles on her 
 brown leather face had deepened, and also there was 
 an additional touch of acidity in the tone of her 
 voice, even though she obviously meant to be 
 amiable. 
 
 ' I have not seen him yet, but I want to speak to 
 him urgently.' 
 
 ' Then come this way.' She led him a few steps 
 down the passage, and then stood still again. 
 
 ' What do people say about Wasia's death ? ' she 
 asked, looking at him keenly. 
 
 He gave a start, almost as though the word had 
 been a bodily stab. 
 
 ' I have heard nothing. I have been at Bolotyn 
 all the time.' 
 
 ' Ah, yes, and that is too far away for them to 
 talk ; they do not know us there. But here, you 
 cannot imagine what nonsense has been chattered, 
 and yet it is all so plain. The doctor himself 
 attested an inflammation of the intestines. That 
 rash that we thought so little of meant mischief 
 from the first, and it evidently was driven back too 
 abruptly. Ah, my poor Wasia ! She always was 
 over anxious about her face ! '
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 127 
 
 ' Will you take me to the Pope, please ? ' said 
 Gregor, feeling that he could bear no more of 
 this. 
 
 ' Of course, of course. Come this way.' She led 
 the way through the dining-room to the Pope's 
 private room, then stopped again with her fingers on 
 the door-handle. 
 
 ' You will find him changed changed ! ' she 
 repeated, as she stood back to let him pass ; evi- 
 dently he was to go in alone. 
 
 The falling snowflakes wrapped the room in a sort 
 of white twilight. The Pope was sitting where 
 Gregor had always found him sitting in front of 
 the ink-spotted table ; but, though there was paper 
 before him and a pipe beside him, he was neither 
 writing nor smoking ; the paper was blank, and the 
 pipe empty and cold, as Gregor could see, as he 
 drew nearer. He sat with his back to the door, and 
 even before he turned, Gregor was struck by the 
 silver shine upon his black head. For a moment he 
 took it to be the reflection of the snow outside, but 
 soon he convinced himself that the effect was solely 
 due to an almost incredible increase of white hairs 
 within these last few weeks. 
 
 'Father Nikodem/ began Gregor, wondering at 
 the immobility of the massive figure. Then Father 
 Nikodem turned, and Gregor could see the change 
 more plainly. It was not only that he had aged, 
 but that his cheeks had grown baggier, his mouth 
 looser than it used to be, and that the clear brown 
 pallor of his dark face had taken on a tinge of
 
 128 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 yellow. The round black eyes that had been wont 
 to gaze so merrily into the world, looked now dully 
 at the entering figure, presently to kindle into 
 undisguised astonishment. 
 
 ' Gregor Petrow ! ' he said, almost incredulously. 
 ' Is that you ? What can you be looking for here ? ' 
 
 He was staring at Gregor now, his big eyes 
 opened to their full, the black shadows about them, 
 that were like smears of charcoal, startlingly con- 
 spicuous and without any signs of welcoming the 
 guest. 
 
 ' Do you not know,' he added fretfully, as Gregor 
 too painfully moved to speak at once remained 
 silent, ' that the best kindness you can do me is to 
 leave me alone ? ' 
 
 ' I would not disturb you if it were not urgent, and 
 I will not detain you long. I have come with a 
 serious purpose.' 
 
 Then, in a set and prim little speech, which he had 
 arranged in his head as he came along in the sledge, 
 Gregor made his request for Zenobia's hand. The 
 tremors which had assailed him, when four years ago 
 in this same room he had made this same request, 
 were not with him to-day. To-day, as then, he was 
 prepared for a rejection, but what he was doing 
 to-day was a duty, and whether rejected or not the 
 duty would be fulfilled. 
 
 At the first words Father Nikodem had begun 
 visibly to tremble. His eyes grew wider, left 
 Gregor's face, and swerved uncertainly round the 
 room, while his big hands, which were like the hands
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 129 
 
 of an overgrown child, played with the papers before 
 him, nervously and restlessly bending them into 
 dogs' ears. 
 
 ' You are sure/ he said, breathing heavily as 
 Gregor ceased, ' you would take her ? Have you 
 considered everything ? ' 
 
 ' If she will take me, she will do more to me than 
 I deserve.' 
 
 The Pope looked at him almost wildly for a 
 moment, and his lips twitched as though he were 
 beginning to speak, but instead of saying anything 
 he noisily pushed back his chair, and began pacing 
 about over the well-worn strips of carpet that crossed 
 and re-crossed the painted floor. 
 
 As he watched him Gregor felt the astonishment 
 growing within him. This was something more 
 than the change which the Popadia had prepared 
 him for. He had not looked for so complete a 
 breakdown as this, and, despite his own immense 
 grief, he wondered at it ; for it was not only grief 
 that he read on the face of the sorrowing father, 
 it was something beyond grief, and apart from 
 grief, an unquietness of movement that was yet not 
 vivacity, and an uncertainty of the gaze which 
 was wont to be so aggressively open. The altera- 
 tion was one to shock him even in his religious 
 feelings, for had not Father Nikodem the same 
 sources of consolation that stood open to himself, 
 and could he not dip into them more deeply, since 
 he was able to stand at the altar? How he could 
 fail so entirely in that Christian resignation, which he 
 I
 
 1 30 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 had heard him so often commend, was a riddle to 
 Gregor. 
 
 ' Do you give your consent ? ' he asked, after a 
 minute, thinking that in some new paroxysm of 
 grief the Pope had forgotten the subject in hand. 
 But Father Nikodem only ran his hand through his 
 thick hair, giving him another doubtful look the 
 while, and obviously hesitating. This too astonished 
 Gregor. However doubtful he might feel as to the 
 daughter's decision, he had not expected any resist- 
 ance on the part of the father. 
 
 ' Am I to go away ? ' he asked, after another long 
 silence. 
 
 ' You have not considered you have not con- 
 sidered,' was the Pope's agitated answer. ' You have 
 not thought of how people will talk of this ! ' 
 
 ' I suppose they will talk,' said Gregor resignedly. 
 ' When a man goes backwards and forwards between 
 two sisters he must expect to be mocked at, but so 
 long as Zenobia can bear it, I know that I can. She 
 must decide.' 
 
 ' Yes, you are right, she must decide,' said the 
 Pope, standing abruptly still. 'She alone can say 
 whether this is to be ; I will bring her to you.' 
 
 He had stopped close beside the door, and now, 
 without looking again at Gregor, he went out. 
 
 Gregor walked to the window and stared out into 
 the snow, trying without quite knowing his own 
 intention to pierce the falling veil, and catch the 
 outline of the little humpbacked brown church under 
 whose shadow he knew that Wasylya lay. Although
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 131 
 
 he was waiting for Zenobia, it was of Wasylya alone 
 that he thought. 
 
 When the door opened again he had to rouse 
 himself with an effort to the recollection of what he 
 was here for. 
 
 Zenobia, in her black mourning dress, came in be- 
 hind her father. By the start she gave Gregor could 
 see that she had not been prepared for his presence. 
 
 ' Here is Gregor Petrow,' said the Pope, speaking 
 more firmly than a minute ago, and keeping his eyes 
 upon his daughter. ' He has come to ask you whether 
 after all that has happened you can still consent 
 to become his wife ? Answer him yourself, Zenia ; 
 you must know whether you can say yes.' 
 
 The blood rushed suddenly to Zenobia's face, as 
 with one hand she took hold of the back of the chair 
 beside her, putting out the other before her as though 
 to push something invisible from her. 
 
 'His wife?' she said quickly. ' No, no, I cannot 
 be that ; that could never be ! ' 
 
 'You mean that you cannot forgive me for my 
 want of faith ? ' asked Gregor, without excitement. 
 
 ' There was no want of faith. I am not speaking 
 of you.' She put up her hand to her forehead and 
 pressed it as though it hurt her. Her father's eyes 
 were still upon her face, closely watching, with a 
 strain of anxiety which Gregor vaguely noticed, with- 
 out understanding. All that struck him was that 
 that scrutinising gaze might well confuse Zenobia at 
 such a moment. 
 
 'Would you let me speak to her alone?' he asked,
 
 1 32 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 looking at Father Nikodem, and without a word the 
 Pope turned and left the room. 
 
 ' Zenobia,' said Gregor, and for the first time to-day 
 his voice shook a little. ' Think again before you 
 send me away. You have every reason to spurn me, 
 but think again ! I am a very unhappy ma/i ; my 
 life is in ruins, and you can help me to build it up 
 again.' 
 
 ' Are you sure that /can help you ? ' asked Zenobia, 
 looking at him steadily now. ' Is it true that you 
 really believe in me so far? Are you afraid are 
 you afraid of nothing ? ' 
 
 Her gaze seemed to be boring into his, intent on 
 piercing to the truth. 
 
 4 Afraid only of not deserving your generosity,' he 
 said, openly returning her look. 
 
 She withdrew her eyes, apparently satisfied with 
 what she had read in his. The next moment a change 
 came over her face. 
 
 ' But you do not love me, Gregor Petrow,' she said 
 bitterly. ' You want to marry me only because you 
 owe my father money.' 
 
 His sense of guilt towards her was too great to 
 let him dare denial. 
 
 ' I have loved once,' he answered wearily, ' and I 
 do not know whether one can love twice. I have 
 told you why I want to marry you ; because my 
 life is broken, and because, if you have ever loved 
 me a little, you may help me to mend it.' 
 
 Over her face there came a second change, far 
 more swift, far more intense than the first.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 133 
 
 ' A little ! Oh, Gregor, I have never loved you 
 a little ! I have loved you much. Oh, God knows, 
 how far too much ! Yes, I will help you to mend 
 your life. Take me, Gregor, for I am yours I have 
 always been yours ! ' 
 
 And, making two steps forward, to Gregor's amaze- 
 ment and consternation she fell at his feet, with hands 
 that clutched at the hem of his soutane, and a face 
 on which tenderness and passion were righting for 
 the upper hand, turned up to his.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 LITTLE by little after his marriage or, more 
 properly speaking, after his ordination a 
 certain measure of quiet came back to Gregor. 
 Piece by piece he found again those reasons of 
 attraction towards his vocation, which for a time he 
 had so completely lost sight of that he had thought 
 them swept away from him for ever. His first Mass, 
 the first confession he heard, the first dying man 
 to whom he carried the viaticum, the first child on 
 whose head he poured the baptismal water each of 
 these brought to him not only a moment of supreme 
 solemnity, but dazzling revelations of the sublimity 
 of his office. Some of the same naive astonishment 
 which the schoolmaster had felt on seeing himself 
 obeyed now came over the priest, on realising that 
 his word was actually able to bring comfort and to 
 absolve sin. 
 
 Together with this feeling of wonder came that of 
 gratitude towards the God who had made him His 
 instrument, and the renewed resolve to be worthy 
 of his trust. He would keep his sacerdotal robe as 
 unspotted as it was humanly possible to keep it ; 
 he would not spare himself, nor count fatigues, but 
 
 134
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 135 
 
 would with the help of Heaven become such a 
 priest as there had never been before. A holy hunger 
 for all these souls under his charge had come over 
 him, on the very first occasion when he stood on the 
 steps of the altar and overlooked the tightly packed 
 village church, in which he saw old faces and young 
 faces, the sunken eyes of old men, and the limpid 
 eyes of little children all turned expectantly towards 
 him. Why should even one of these be lost ? And 
 with this new zeal upon him he threw himself into 
 his work, glad of the enthusiasm which had come 
 back to life, and careful not to analyse his own senti- 
 ments too closely, lest perhaps he should discover 
 that the zeal was not zeal alone, but that inextricably 
 mixed with it was the desire to kill thought. In 
 these early times he committed the usual fault of 
 zealots by losing sight of the fact that man has 
 a body as well as a soul. If he did not break down 
 physically in the first months after his ordination, it 
 was only because Zenobia was there to persuade him 
 to eat at the necessary times, and to relieve him of 
 the fatigue of many of his self-imposed sick visits. 
 So entirely did she fit into his new scheme of life, 
 that after a few weeks he already seemed to himself 
 to have been married for years, for Zenobia had none 
 of the exactions or obtrusiveness of a young wife, 
 while her eminently domestic habits saved him all 
 petty household troubles. Independent though he 
 was of material comforts, it was impossible not to 
 recognise the advantage of having his meals served 
 punctually, and of finding his linen duly mended.
 
 136 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Also, although not given to much talking, there came 
 moments when to speak of his hopes, his plans, his dis- 
 appointments and they were not few became almost 
 a necessity, and Zenobia was above all a good listener. 
 Not that she could entirely grasp his aspirations, 
 nor even pretended to do so. Brought up as she had 
 been, in the peculiarly exclusive atmosphere of a 
 Pope's household, the popular standard for a priest 
 had been too intimately intertwined with early habit 
 to be easily loosened. Nor was her imagination 
 readily fired, nor her spirit quick to take new impres- 
 sions. That slight suggestion of heaviness which 
 prevented her regular face from being beautiful was 
 to be found, not only in her bodily movements but 
 also in her mental ones. If she listened patiently 
 and even sympathetically to Gregor's talk about the 
 good he meant to do in his parish, it was not so 
 much because she appreciated these dreams as be- 
 cause she loved the man who dreamed them. If 
 she took his place beside a sick-bed it was in order 
 to spare the health which was to her more precious 
 than her own, rather than because she quite acknow- 
 ledged the necessity of the action. All these things 
 seemed to her not so much good in themselves, as 
 good because it was Gregor who did them. Where 
 comprehension failed, her blind faith stepped in, as is 
 almost always the case with women in whom instinct 
 preponderates over intellect. Sometimes this very 
 instinct put her on the track of an idea which had 
 escaped him. 
 
 ' I think you frighten them,' she said once, when
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 137 
 
 Gregor had been deeply vexed at discovering that 
 one of his parishioners, on the eve of his wedding, 
 had preferred to make the obligatory confession in 
 a neighbouring parish. 
 
 '/ frighten them ? ' echoed Gregor, wide-eyed with 
 astonishment, for he could not conceive himself as 
 inspiring the sentiment of fear. ' Have I done them 
 any harm ? ' 
 
 ' No, but you do them so much good that they 
 don't know how to explain it. They think there 
 must be something else behind. They tell each 
 other I heard it from Jusia that you look so like 
 a saint that they are afraid to shock you with their 
 confessions.' 
 
 ' Strange ! ' said Gregor, sinking into deep thought. 
 
 These calm talks with Zenobia, the almost 
 maternal solicitude with which he felt himself 
 surrounded, all tended to give him back his hold on 
 life. The one disturbing element in his intercourse 
 with her was the thing which to most men would 
 have been most welcome the consciousness of her 
 love for him, or rather of its depth and passion. At 
 the moment when, in her father's room, she had 
 fallen at his feet and stretched yearning hands 
 towards him, he had got his first startled glimpse of 
 that depth, and had recoiled as a man recoils before 
 an abyss, hitherto unsuspected, which he suddenly 
 discovers at his feet, and which merely to look into 
 entails giddiness for if she now loved him thus it 
 meant that she had loved him thus all these four 
 years, and if she rejoiced now so unboundedly it
 
 138 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 meant that she had mourned more than mourned, 
 that she had despaired within these last weeks. 
 4 My God, what she must have suffered ! ' was the 
 thought which had come to him disturbingly in that 
 moment, and which returned to him each time that 
 he caught another glimpse of the abyss. Not only 
 did the discovery heighten his sense of guilt towards 
 her, but he did not want to be loved in this way, in 
 this purely human manner, it did not fit into his 
 plan of life. What he wanted in her was not the 
 passionately adoring wife, but a helpmeet in his 
 work. Probably it was again Zenobia's instinct 
 which turned her so rapidly into the outwardly sober 
 and even placid wife. Yet, despite herself, there 
 came moments when the truth looked out of her 
 eyes and stabbed Gregor's conscience, as happened 
 on the January day on which the 'Jordan ' feast was 
 celebrated, and on which Gregor had, for the first 
 time, gone through the ceremony of blessing the 
 water. Though the winter was mild there had been 
 a sharp frost lately which had yielded splendid 
 blocks of ice, wherewith to build up the cross which 
 stood on the river bank. All the village, armed with 
 pots and jugs wherewith to bring home some of the 
 blest water, had crowded down to assist at the 
 ceremony. Gregor was rather vexed with Zenobia 
 because she declined to be of the congregation. 
 
 ' Are you afraid of the cold ? ' he asked. ' You 
 have got your new fur.' 
 
 ' No, it is not the cold, but the people. The whole 
 village will be there.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 139 
 
 ' And why not you ? ' 
 
 ' I do not like to go where there are so many 
 people,' said Zenobia, with something like ill-humour 
 in her voice. 
 
 It had struck him more than once that she shrank 
 from going anywhere in public, and avoided even 
 their neighbours in a way that almost smacked of 
 misanthropy, but he had never thought of looking 
 for causes, and to-day he had no time for argument. 
 
 It was on this occasion that the water having 
 been blessed and while men and women were 
 crowding to the edge of the ice to dip in their pots, 
 that Gregor, in his haste to make way for them, 
 slipped on the smooth surface and fell heavily upon 
 one side. There was no bone broken, as the sub- 
 sequent examination proved, but the pain in his 
 knee was so great that he could not put his foot to 
 the ground, and never would he forget Zenobia's 
 face when they stopped before the door with the 
 primitive stretcher on which he lay. It was one of 
 those rare moments when her eyes, opened to their 
 full, revealed their whole size, and the whole of their 
 dark depth ; and, reading the expression of anguish 
 about her drawn mouth, he once again said to him- 
 self, ' What she must have suffered ! My God, what 
 she must have suffered ! ' 
 
 Against his will he was forced to imagine the 
 different phases of torment through which she must 
 inevitably have passed, and against his will by a 
 mere logical deduction came the question of what 
 must have been her feelings towards her sister who
 
 1 40 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 had supplanted her : but that way he did not dare 
 to look, for fear of imperilling this so painfully 
 acquired peace. 
 
 It was not long after the ' Jordan ' feast that 
 Zenobia told Gregor of a new hope in her life, and 
 that he felt his heart leap up on an impulse for which 
 he immediately rebuked himself as being too purely 
 human. But, chasten his nature as he would, a 
 warm, infinitely soft satisfaction remained. A child 
 to complete the family circle, and to lead up in the 
 right way, seemed indeed more blessing than he 
 deserved. Life had obviously become possible again. 
 A new bond drew him to his companion ; more than 
 hitherto did it become possible to share his thoughts 
 with her. Soon everything was open between them 
 everything with one exception, for there was one 
 name which neither of them had pronounced since 
 the events of last autumn, one locked chamber in 
 the far back of each of their hearts which each felt 
 must not be unlocked at the price of their present 
 happiness, or what bore the appearance of happiness.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IN this way, and without other incident than 
 Gregor's slip on the ice, the winter passed. It 
 had been a snowless, and only at moments a severe 
 winter, so that a belated snowfall, when already the 
 buds were swelling, moved every one with an almost 
 indignant surprise. Gregor's newly built sledge 
 which had stood idle all winter, was brought out 
 for the first and presumably also for the last time 
 on the latest Sunday of March. On the Saturday 
 evening he had said to Zenobla, ' I have just heard 
 that Father Nikodem is at Lussyatyn, and will be 
 there to-morrow. I do not understand why he has 
 not sent us word, but if we drive in to-morrow, 
 directly after the service, we are sure still to find him, 
 and of course you will want to see your father.' 
 
 To his astonishment Zenobia hesitated in her 
 reply. 
 
 ' I do not know whether that would do well,' she 
 said uncertainly. 
 
 ' But do you not want to see him ? ' 
 
 ' How do I know whether he wants to see me?' 
 she said, with a shade of sullenness on her face. 
 
 ' There can be no doubt of that,' Gregor was be- 
 
 141
 
 142 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ginning, when it struck him that if Father Nikodem 
 had been very anxious to see his daughter, and even 
 if his time had been too short for the drive out here, 
 he might easily have sent word of his presence in 
 the neighbouring town. The look of puzzlement on 
 his face was so great that it evidently struck Zenobia, 
 who hastened to say, in answer to his thoughts 
 
 ' Probably he was in a hurry some ecclesiastical 
 business, no doubt. Yes, it will be best if we drive 
 in to-morrow.' 
 
 It was for this that the sledge had been brought 
 out. 
 
 Certainly it felt far more like Christmas than 
 Palm Sunday the Roman Catholic Palm Sunday 
 as they were reminded of by the string of church- 
 goers on the outskirts of the town, with the strangely 
 unseasonable-looking palms in their hands, wading 
 up to their knees in snow, or standing aside to make 
 way for the sledge. The more economical had put 
 their handkerchiefs over their Sunday head-coverings, 
 for it was still snowing evenly and noiselessly ; the 
 flakes clung to their moustaches, their eyelashes, and 
 to the blest palms in their hands. The effects of 
 this long, windless fall were fantastically visible on 
 all sides, having filled the forty minutes' drive with 
 all sorts of amusing surprises. The pollard willows 
 in the hedgerows had their round heads padded with 
 smooth white cushions which, in conjunction with 
 the naked twigs bristling through the surface, gave 
 them something of the appearance of monstrous 
 pincushions. The branches of the wayside bushes
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 143 
 
 weighed down by round, square, and three-cornered 
 patches of snow, made one think at first sight that 
 to-day had been chosen as a huge, universal washing 
 day. Every hole in the paling had been patched up 
 with snow, every horizontal bar had a second bar of 
 snow upon it, every perpendicular one a beautifully 
 pointed cap, which grew higher and sharper every 
 minute. Upon every tree branch that was only a 
 little aslant there was a second branch of snow, 
 even the tiniest twig had its white duplicate. All 
 the more precious are these wonderful pranks of the 
 departing winter that he who sees them knows that 
 they are but for a day, or at most two. If it were 
 Christmas in reality, and not only in appearance, 
 then the pincushions might endure for weeks, and 
 the snow handkerchiefs hang out for as long, but 
 in March all these wintry glories can but turn to 
 slush : to decorate the world thus profusely is but a 
 useless piece of extravagance, the last wild revel 
 which the Winter King is holding before quitting 
 the field. 
 
 Although not exactly knowing where to look for 
 Father Nikodem, it seemed to Gregor most obvious 
 to inquire for him at the house of the parish priest, 
 Father Urban Jarewicz, where he was probably 
 lodging. When Gregor remarked this to Zenobia, 
 she agreed as to the probability, but added im- 
 mediately, as though having thought over the 
 matter 
 
 ' While you go there I can be seeing about these 
 new pots for the kitchen ; they are very urgent.'
 
 144 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' But will it not appear strange if you do not 
 come with me ? You have not met them since our 
 marriage, and yet they are old acquaintances.' 
 
 Over Zenobia's face there came again the sullen 
 look which he had seen there yesterday when she 
 had spoken of her father. 
 
 ' I do not care to pay visits now,' she said shortly. 
 ' I would rather not go, and it may be that my father 
 is not lodging there.' 
 
 ' We shall hear that immediately,' answered Gregor, 
 who at that moment had caught sight of two tall, 
 angular young women approaching upon the strip 
 of humpbacked pavement, and deeply occupied in 
 keeping their fashionable Sunday frocks out of the 
 slush to which here, in the town, the snow was already 
 turning. ' There are the Jarewicz young ladies ! ' 
 and, pulling up the sledge, he handed the reins to 
 Zenobia, and quickly descended, in order to inter- 
 cept the two daughters of Father Urban the same 
 young persons whose musical accomplishments had 
 so fired poor Wasylya's ambition. 
 
 Zenobia had made a gesture, as though to detain 
 him, but it had been too late ; and, without a word, 
 she took the reins and sat upright and rather rigid, 
 looking straight in front of her. 
 
 Melanya and Agata Jarewicz had come within 
 half a dozen paces of the sledge without appearing 
 to perceive it ; then Melanya looked up, checked 
 her pace for a moment, and saying something to her 
 sister, they unexpectedly entered the shop of a tin- 
 smith, alongside.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 145 
 
 Gregor turned towards Zenobia in almost nai've 
 surprise. 
 
 ' I felt so certain that they had seen us/ he said, 
 and then only caught sight of the rigid set of her 
 features. 
 
 ' They did see us,' said Zenobia, who spoke as 
 though she were choking. 
 
 ' It can't be,' he asserted, in all sincerity, for such 
 an incident lay out of the circle, not only of his 
 experience, but also of his comprehension. ' I shall 
 go and speak to them.' 
 
 Again she made a movement as though to check 
 him, and again failed, and within the same minute 
 Gregor was entering the tinsmith's shop, where 
 Melanya and Agata were looking round them in 
 an extremely leisurely manner. He had known 
 these angular young ladies slightly in his school- 
 master days, and had renewed acquaintance with 
 them since becoming a clerical neighbour of their 
 father's. From the first, the feeling which their 
 fashionable clothes, their assurance of manner, as 
 well as their accomplishments inspired him, had been 
 one of awe. Distinctly they represented a new 
 departure in those clerical manners which, until 
 quite recent years, were universally recognised as 
 rustic to the point of boorishness 'he eats like a 
 Pope,' being almost synonymous with saying ' like a 
 peasant ' ; while to say of a woman, ' she dresses like 
 a Pope's wife,' was equivalent to stigmatising the 
 unhappy creature for ever as a dowd. But Melanya 
 and Agata Jarewicz meant to change all that, for it 
 
 K
 
 146 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 was to them that the family owed its present reputa- 
 tion. Father Urban, a mild and conciliatory old 
 man, whose one desire was to be at peace with the 
 world, had no revolutionary yearnings of his own, 
 but had long ago yielded himself up into the hands 
 of the enterprising Melanya. To be modern and up 
 to the latest dodges of civilisation was the object in 
 life which the two sisters had set before themselves, 
 and although they made some funny mistakes such 
 as eating with their gloves on, and having their 
 calling cards printed with an ornamental border 
 on the whole they represented a welcome sign of 
 progress, in the social sense of the word. Their 
 assurance, far more than their charms, confirmed 
 their success ; for, to speak truthfully, both these 
 progressive sisters were about as plain as it is pos- 
 sible to be at nineteen and twenty. An almost 
 grotesque formation of features was common to both ; 
 a hanging jaw, which sloped so sharply downwards 
 as to give to the profile something horselike; add to 
 this, protuberant lips, and long, prominent teeth ; 
 and all this with absolutely nothing but a moderately 
 fresh complexion to redeem it. For imaginative 
 people it was painful to think of what these two 
 faces would become after the departure of that 
 ephemeral freshness, and from the merely aesthetic 
 point of view both Melanya and Agata would un- 
 doubtedly be wiser to depart this life before being 
 reduced to depend on their features alone. 
 
 As Gregor entered the tinsmith's shop he could 
 see a glance exchanged, and it seemed to him to be
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 147 
 
 a glance of mutual consultation, which apparently 
 resulted in his favour, for immediately Melanya's 
 teeth appeared in a friendly smile, while a carefully 
 gloved hand was held towards him at the latest 
 fashionable angle. 
 
 ' Who would expect you here in such weather, 
 Panic Petrow?' she murmured in the best social 
 style. 
 
 ' I am not here alone,' said Gregor, lifting his 
 snow-covered hat. ' Zenia is with me ; she is in the 
 sledge outside.' 
 
 ' Is she indeed ? ' said both sisters, with such an 
 absence of surprise as to make it clear that they had 
 seen her in the street. 
 
 ' I wonder she does not find it cold,' added Agata, 
 after a reflective pause. 
 
 ' We came in to inquire after Father Nikodem ; 
 we heard he was here. Can you tell us where to 
 find him? ' 
 
 ' He was here, but he went home this morning.' 
 
 ' Without sending us word ! ' said Gregor unthink- 
 ingly, and with astonishment plainly depicted on his 
 face. 
 
 Melanya said nothing but began examining a tin 
 pot beside her, as though deeply interested in its 
 construction. 
 
 ' Then we have come for nothing ! ' he added, in a 
 tone of almost childish disappointment, in which was 
 also mixed a little anxiety on Zenobia's behalf. 
 Would not the drive home again, without rest and 
 without refreshment, be too much for her in her
 
 i 4 8 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 present state of health ? But it could not come to 
 that. All that he knew of the rules of hospitality 
 forbade him to believe in such a contingency. 
 
 ' My wife would be very glad to salute you,' he 
 said, rather helplessly, getting no answer. 
 
 ' We also shall be pleased to see her,' said Melanya, 
 becoming all at once immensely polite, and after 
 exchanging another glance, and apparently after a 
 moment of hesitation, the two sisters stepped 
 gingerly out on to the slushy pavement. 
 
 Zenobia was still sitting very upright in the sledge, 
 with the reins in her hands, and the snowflakes fall- 
 ing now more thinly about her. 
 
 ' Good day,' said Melanya, standing still on the 
 edge of the pavement, but keeping her hands in her 
 muff indeed it would have been rather far to stretch 
 across to the sledge. 'You have missed Father 
 Nikodem by only a few hours ; he went home this 
 morning.' 
 
 ' I thought we should not see him,' said Zenobia, 
 returning the sisters' salutation, rather haughtily, as 
 it seemed to Gregor. And then for a moment 
 nobody said anything, while he stood uncomfortably 
 beside the sledge, and wondered whether there really 
 was nothing for it but to resume his place beside 
 Zenobia. Presently Melanya began talking again, 
 but it was only about the extraordinarily unseason- 
 able weather. Glancing furtively from one sister to 
 the other Gregor could see that both pairs of eyes 
 remained fixed on Zenobia's face with evident 
 interest, but which did not strike him as a friendly
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 149 
 
 interest, and above all with a sort of eager curiosity 
 which he could not explain, as one looks at a person 
 who is remarkable in some especial way. Quite 
 suddenly he recognised this expression as one which 
 he had seen on the faces of his own parishioners, and 
 that too when they were looking at Zenobia, and 
 yet, what was there about her that was remarkable, 
 or that made her worth looking at with this sort of 
 half-fearful interest ? He himself could see nothing. 
 A newly married woman is generally more stared at 
 than another, but this seemed to him to pass the 
 bounds of mere idle curiosity. He was saying this 
 to himself, when on the pavement, at a few paces 
 off, he caught sight of a knot of people likewise 
 looking at the sledge, while at the open door of a 
 Jewish shop a bunch of hook-nosed, ringleted faces 
 struck his eyes and these too were looking at 
 Zenobia. All at once it seemed to him that the 
 whole street had its eyes turned in their direction. 
 So irksome was the sensation becoming, that without 
 any further remark he mounted quickly to his place, 
 and took the reins from Zenobia. 
 
 ' If they want us they will stop us now.' The 
 thought went through his mind as he settled the fur 
 cover, but all that Melanya said as she stepped back 
 to save her dress from being splashed was : 
 
 ' It must be charming to spin over the snow to- 
 day. I shall certainly have the sledge out this 
 afternoon.' 
 
 And in the next moment already the bells were 
 jingling, and the horse's head turned homewards.
 
 150 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' Are you not hungry ? ' asked Gregor, turning to 
 his wife. 
 
 Into Zenobia's eyes there came a spark, and on her 
 dark face a flame, as she answered : 
 
 ' No, I am not hungry ; do not trouble about me, 
 Gregor.' 
 
 ' I thought for certain that they would ask us to 
 stay.' 
 
 ' I did not,' said Zenobia, scarcely unclosing her 
 lips, and keeping her teeth together. 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. There seemed to 
 be something here which he did not understand, 
 though she apparently did.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 EXACTLY four weeks after the sledge drive to 
 Lussyatyn, Gregor and Zenobia were again on 
 the same road ; this time not in a sledge but in the 
 little light cart which represented their summer 
 equipage. It was again Palm Sunday the Palm 
 Sunday of the Greek Church, and consequently their 
 own a flower-decked and sun-gilded Palm Sunday, 
 in contradistinction to that other one on which the 
 world had seemed to lie dead, smothered under its 
 counterpanes of snow. Of all that wealth of decora- 
 tion, not a trace ; the same branches that had been 
 white with flakes were now white again with blossoms ; 
 the pollard willows were wearing green veils ; the 
 roadside ditch, then blotted out of existence, had got 
 a new green lining ; not even on the mountain 
 heights, which made a background to the town, was 
 a gleam of snow to be seen. 
 
 On the previous evening, when a message had 
 come from Father Urban Jarewicz, there had been 
 between Gregor and Zenobia an exchange of words 
 which almost amounted to a dispute. Father 
 Urban, whom a bad chill prevented officiating on 
 Palm Sunday, had called upon Gregor to replace 
 
 151
 
 152 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 him ; and Gregor, reflecting that the smaller parish 
 had better remain unserved rather than the larger, 
 had acquiesced. The message likewise comprised an 
 invitation to the midday meal, as was indeed un- 
 avoidable under the circumstances. 
 
 ' They hope to see you too,' he said to Zenobia, 
 after reading the note. 
 
 ' Let them hope,' replied Zenobia drily. 
 
 ' Have you taken offence at their coldness last 
 time? As for that, I think I have found the ex- 
 planation.' 
 
 ' Have you ? ' she asked quickly, glancing up from 
 the sewing she was busy with, and seeming to hold 
 her breath. 
 
 ' Yes ; do you know who I think is the cause of it ? 
 I think it is Hypolit.' 
 
 ' Hypolit ? ' 
 
 4 Probably they are angry with you for not having 
 married him.' 
 
 Zenobia's sewing dropped into her lap, as she 
 burst out laughing more heartily than Gregor had 
 ever heard her. 
 
 ' Oh, Gregor, what a child you are sometimes ! ' 
 was all she said. 
 
 'But is it not true that he wanted to marry 
 you?' 
 
 ' Quite true,' she said, without a shade of embar- 
 rassment ; ' but it was he who wanted it, not his 
 sisters. Their dream is to see him return from 
 Vienna with a fashionable Viennese wife ; somebody 
 from whom they could get hints for their dresses
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 153 
 
 and their manners. I was always far too dowdy and 
 old-fashioned for their taste.' 
 
 ' Oh, well then, I was mistaken,' said Gregor, 
 rather crest-fallen ; ' and probably their coldness 
 dates from the days when they were still afraid that 
 you would marry him.' 
 
 ' It is indifferent to me what their coldness dates 
 from.' 
 
 ' Zenia, this is not quite Christianlike. They may 
 have failed in charity, but this message proves that 
 they are ready to make amends.' 
 
 'This message proves nothing,' said Zenobia 
 obstinately ; ' or at most it proves that Father Urban 
 thinks that his daughters have overdone the rude- 
 ness. He is always for keeping on the safe side with 
 everybody ; besides, since he was asking a service 
 from you he couldn't help throwing in the invita- 
 tion.' 
 
 4 All this is no reason to refuse it. Zenia, tell me, 
 what is it that makes you shrink so from meeting 
 people? What makes you hide from the world, as 
 though you were afraid of it ? ' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said Zenobia, having pricked her finger at 
 that moment, perhaps because she had started. 
 Looking up she saw Gregor in front of her, his blue 
 eyes fixed inquiringly on her face. 
 
 ' My health,' she murmured, staring at the drop of 
 blood which had fallen on the piece of baby-linen she 
 was busy with. 
 
 ' That is not a sufficient reason. Do you not see 
 that you make yourself peculiar by withdrawing
 
 154 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 from your neighbours in this way? That it will 
 make people talk ? ' 
 
 ' Of what ? ' asked Zenobia, rather faintly. 
 
 ' Of different things ; for instance, of the other 
 marriage that was projected for you. If you do not 
 go to the Jarewiczs' house the Jarewiczs themselves 
 may think that it is because you are afraid of meeting 
 Hypolit.' 
 
 For several moments Zenobia went on stitching 
 so assiduously that Gregor could see nothing but 
 the top of her black head, with the smooth, thick 
 hair which, though somewhat coarse in texture, was 
 yet beautiful of its kind. Then she glanced up. 
 
 ' Very well,' she said, more quietly ; ' perhaps it 
 is better if I go. There is no necessity for people 
 talking nonsense.' 
 
 The Jarewiczs lived in a new house which obviously 
 aspired to the name of 'villa,' and stood on the out- 
 skirts of the town, but Gregor drove straight to the 
 church, so that the meeting with Melanya and Agata 
 did not take place until after the termination of the 
 long service. The expression on the faces of the 
 young ladies with the horse-like profiles (glorious 
 to-day in brand-new spring costumes), was of neces- 
 sity more amiable than it had been four Sundays 
 back ; but even to-day cordiality was less conspi- 
 cuous than that sort of chilly curiosity which had 
 disturbed Gregor on that occasion. 
 
 ' Papa is so very much obliged to your husband 
 for replacing him,' said Melanya to Zenobia, as 
 palms in hand they picked their way along the
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 155 
 
 short piece of road which divided the church from 
 the priestly dwelling. The Roman Catholic palms, 
 or rather the willow twigs which represented them, 
 had been decorated only with woolly buds, but 
 those of the Greek Church this year were already 
 green. 
 
 ' It is so very kind of you to accompany him ; we 
 scarcely hoped that you would.' 
 
 { They why did you ask me ? ' said Zenobia 
 bluntly. 
 
 ' Oh, because of course we hoped. But we had 
 heard that you don't care to go about much.' 
 
 ' It is wonderful how fond people are of talking 
 of each other/ said Zenobia, with a scornful tremor 
 in her voice. ' What reason should I have for not 
 going about ? I am quite well.' She looked at 
 Melanya as though demanding a reply, and so hard 
 and straight that, despite her assurance, the other 
 preferred to turn away her eyes. 
 
 ' Of course there is no reason,' said Melanya, 
 rather lamely, and the rest of the way was passed 
 in silence. 
 
 The ambitious-looking verandah, with the white- 
 washed pillars and the plaster stucco-work over the 
 windows, was deserted, but in the would-be modern 
 drawing-room where the tables were so laden with 
 knick-knacks that it was scarcely possible to find a 
 place for putting down a hat, where photographs 
 were stuck about in every conceivable and incon- 
 ceivable place,* and where modern magazines, with 
 paper-cutters left in them as marks, lay about osten-
 
 156 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 tatiously Father Urban (his lean throat wrapped 
 in two or three comforters) awaited his guests. He 
 was a frail and sickly looking old gentleman, whose 
 frailty gave him an air of refinement which he might 
 possibly not have possessed if in robust health, with 
 lanky white hair, small features, ravaged by ill-health, 
 deep shadows under his pale eyes, and a slight lisp 
 in his voice, caused probably by missing teeth. 
 About his wistful amiability there was nothing to be 
 discovered of the veiled hostility in his daughters' 
 bearing, as he smilingly welcomed the arrivals, in- 
 clining himself profoundly before Zenobia, and ex- 
 changing the usual kiss of brotherhood with Gregor. 
 It would seem even as though he were anxious, by a 
 double dose of hospitality, to make up for any 
 remissness on their part. 
 
 ' A gain, nothing but a gain to my parishioners ! ' 
 he laughed mildly, in reply to Gregor's condolences 
 on the state of his throat. ' Your voice would have 
 been at all times a good exchange for mine ; and if 
 I had been able to sing at High Mass to-day the 
 preface would not have been quite the same thing, 
 would it, my son ? But what have you done with 
 Hypolit?' he asked, looking forlornly about him 
 with his washed-out blue eyes. 
 
 ' Is Hypolit here?' put in Gregor quickly, glancing 
 towards Zenobia's impassive face. 
 
 ' Yes, on his Easter holidays. But why have you 
 not brought him home with you ? ' 
 
 ' We have not even seen him,' said Melanya, care- 
 fully pulling off her Suede gloves.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 157 
 
 1 He was not in church ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 Father Urban sighed, mournfully settling his 
 comforters. 
 
 ' Ah, those young men, those young men ! ' he 
 said, looking almost apologetically at Gregor. 
 ' Nowadays one would require to lead them to 
 church with a string.' 
 
 ' Sunday Mass does not seem to be the fashion 
 in Vienna,' put in Melanya, likewise with a touch of 
 apology in her tone, yet not with complete dis- 
 pleasure, for it was pleasant to be able to talk of 
 Vienna so familiarly. ' Men of science are so very 
 inquiring, you know, and it is difficult not to be 
 influenced by the ideas around one.' 
 
 ' Very liberal ideas ! ' sighed the Pope. 
 
 ' Very advanced ones,' corrected his daughter, 
 smiling uncertainly, for these ' advanced ' ideas of 
 Hypolit had long been both the pride and the terror 
 of his family, round which, despite all efforts, the 
 web of tradition and of the clerical habit of thought 
 still clung. 
 
 ' Well, we can't keep Pan Petrow waiting for his 
 dinner because of Hypolit's ideas, whatever they are,' 
 said Father Urban, with his wistful smile. ' I know 
 how hungry the long gospel used to make me in my 
 young days. Is the soup ready, Melanya?' 
 
 They were seated at table, and the ivodki glass 
 had just passed between the two men, when steps 
 were again heard on the verandah, and Agata said 
 ' There he is ! '
 
 158 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 As Hypolit entered the room, Gregor saw at a 
 glance that, despite the townish cut of his clothes, 
 and despite the growth of hair upon his face, he was 
 scarcely changed from the small, dark, keen-eyed 
 youth whom he had known in his schoolmaster 
 days. Insignificant in height as well as in feature, 
 Hypolit might have stood as a type of his race 
 better than either of his lanky sisters. His was an 
 essentially Slav face, which, like all Slav faces, had 
 to be looked at full, having no profile to speak of a 
 low, broad forehead, wide nostrils, flat eyebrows, 
 narrowly slit and intensely black eyes, the lower 
 part of the face running sharply to a point, and this 
 almost triangular shape of countenance as though 
 purposely accentuated by the close-cropped, black 
 whiskers which outlined the cheek and terminated 
 in an aggressive-looking little beard, as sharply 
 pointed as a dagger that has been dipped in ink 
 instead of in blood. The most provoking thing 
 about Hypolit was a habit of never speaking 
 seriously, or at least of avoiding the appearance 
 of doing so, and an almost melodramatically mock- 
 ing smile which he always had ready to hand, and 
 which was used both on suitable and unsuitable 
 occasions. His cleverness was written on his face, 
 but he was one of those irritating clever people 
 who seem to think that cleverness consists solely 
 in saying startling things, and in saying them as 
 sarcastically as possible. This chronic sarcasm, in 
 conjunction with the pointed beard and the small- 
 ness of his stature, suggested a sort of immature evil
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 159 
 
 spirit, ' a pocket Mephistopheles,' as one of the wits 
 of Lussyatyn had once remarked. But despite the 
 shape of his beard, those who knew Hypolit best 
 knew that he was not quite so Mephistophelian as 
 he wished to appear. To his own eminent dis- 
 pleasure, and notwithstanding the hardening process 
 of a scientific education, his innermost feelings still 
 remained of the violently emotional order that is 
 common to his nation, nor could any one who had 
 seen this cynical talker turn pale at the news that 
 his father had caught another chill, or that one of 
 his plain-faced sisters had fallen ill, believe that he 
 had succeeded in shaking himself free of the trammels 
 of family affection. 
 
 The only vacant place at the table was beside 
 Zenobia's chair, and although Gregor was the least 
 curious of human beings, he could not forbear to 
 look on with a certain interest while the miniature 
 Mephisto went through the customary salutations 
 and took his seat. Not that jealousy of the man 
 who had wished to supplant him had any part in 
 his feelings, for Gregor was not in love with his wife, 
 and he knew that his wife was in love with him, 
 two excellent reasons for not being jealous, but that 
 for the sake of his future peaceful relations with the 
 Jarewicz family, it would be a distinct advantage if 
 Hypolit's sentiment had died a natural death. And 
 what Gregor saw seemed entirely reassuring. Watch 
 as he would, no symptom of smouldering passion 
 was to be detected, or at any rate not by Gregor's 
 perspicacity. The habitual mocking smile on the
 
 160 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 thin lips remained unimpaired, as Hypolit seated 
 himself beside Zenobia, and the black eyes button- 
 like in their smallness, and yet keen as knives 
 even while passing over her face, showed no sign 
 of emotion. His conversation, too, could not, from 
 Gregor's point of view, be considered suspicious, 
 consisting of a lightly dished-up hash of the latest 
 news of the capital fashionable, political, and 
 scientific flavoured with necessary cynicisms and 
 sauced with the unavoidable suggestion of mockery, 
 without which Hypolit did not seem able to open 
 his mouth, for this young man had a way even 
 while saying such harmless things as that the sun 
 was shining of giving the impression that he was 
 laughing at somebody or other in the process. 
 
 ' No, it is not possible that he can feel deeply,' 
 said the naive Gregor to himself, as he listened to 
 the somewhat gruesome description which Hypolit 
 was giving of his experiences in a Vienna hospital. 
 A minute before, Father Urban had been struggling 
 with a particularly obdurate roast chicken, which 
 he was vainly endeavouring to carve in the correct 
 fashion. 
 
 'Hand it to me,' said Hypolit laughingly. 'It's 
 too painfully evident that you have not studied 
 anatomy.' 
 
 ' Nothing so useful as anatomy,' he discoursed, 
 while with his small, nervous hands he deftly severed 
 the appetising-looking joints ; ' and nothing so en- 
 joyable either. Whoever has not stood before an 
 operating-table with a knife in his hand and a nice,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 161 
 
 clean corpse before him, does not know what real 
 happiness means.' 
 
 ' For goodness sake, you are not going to talk 
 of corpses now ? ' ejaculated Melanya, with a little 
 gesture of deprecation. 
 
 'Why not? Is not this a corpse that we are 
 about to feast on now? and is it not insulting to 
 the human race that human corpses should be con- 
 sidered a less agreeable subject of conversation than 
 animal ones? ' 
 
 ' Human corpses are corpses of people who have 
 died of illness, while this hen has been struck down 
 in the very flower of its health.' 
 
 ' Every one does not die of illness ; there is such 
 a thing as violent death,' smiled Hypolit, carving 
 away lustily at the chicken. ' Now, I remember a 
 man who was brought to the hospital last winter 
 under suspicion of having been poisoned with 
 arsenic. There were two parties among the students 
 for and against the supposition ; and if you had 
 the imagination of a Puschkin and a Victor Hugo 
 rolled into one, you could not conceive the intoxi- 
 cating triumph of the moment which proved my 
 party to be right. When the intestines ' 
 
 There was an elegant little scream simultaneously 
 from Melanya and Agata. 
 
 ' Oh, Hypolit ! At dinner! How can you ? ' 
 
 Hypolit, his white teeth still gleaming under his 
 black moustache, looked slowly round the table, 
 into one face after the other. 
 
 ' Is the subject unpleasant ? ' he asked, with 
 L
 
 1 62 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 well-feigned surprise. 'Shall we leave it till after 
 dinner?' 
 
 ' Leave it altogether, rather,' said Melanya, pass- 
 ing her napkin before her face as though to flick 
 away something disturbing ; ' we are not studying 
 anatomy, you know.' 
 
 ' As this mangled animal testifies only too plainly. 
 Can I dare to offer you this mutilated object which 
 was once a wing?' and Hypolit turned laughingly 
 to Zenobia, whose passive face neither responded to 
 the pleasantry, nor seemed to indicate that she had 
 even heard the remarks which had just been made.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHEN everything, down to the finger-glasses 
 (which were the latest innovation in the 
 household), had been done justice to, and the after- 
 noon being so mild that, with an additional com- 
 forter, Father Urban thought he could risk sitting 
 outside, the black coffee was ordered on to the 
 verandah. The little garden which divided the 
 house from the road, although necessarily devoted 
 in part to the needs of the kitchen, and not abso- 
 lutely safe from the invasion of domestic animals, 
 showed desperate efforts towards modernity in the 
 form of various star-shaped and oblong beds, des- 
 tined to enlighten Lussyatyn in the mysteries of 
 carpet-gardening, as well as in an eruption of red, 
 yellow and blue glass balls, crowning the supports 
 of the standard roses. The buds were swelling 
 on all sides, and the newly turned earth smelt 
 good ; a peasant cart rattled past with a foal scam- 
 pering at its mother's heels, and on the mountain 
 side opposite the solitary birches made tender green 
 patches among the sombreness of the pine forests. 
 Gregor, leaning back in his basket-chair, listened 
 in agreeable indolence to Father Urban's plans for 
 
 163
 
 1 64 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 pulling down the wooden church, which he had been 
 taught to consider a blot upon his parish, and build- 
 ing a brick one in its place. Presently he heard 
 himself addressed by Melanya, whose conversation 
 with Zenobia did not seem to be getting into proper 
 flow. 
 
 ' You are musical, I know, Pan Petrow. Shall I 
 sing you something?' 
 
 ' If you will be so kind.' 
 
 1 One of our new duets/ added Agata, rising with 
 alacrity. False diffidence was not among the sisters' 
 defects. 
 
 ' You will hear perfectly out here,' said Father 
 Urban, who wanted to go on talking about his 
 church ; and Gregor, who had made a movement as 
 though to rise, sat down again. 
 
 On the other side of the verandah Zenobia still 
 reclined in her basket-chair, her fine and somewhat 
 severe profile plainly outlined against the pale green 
 of the garden bushes, the black of her hair and of 
 the mourning dress she still wore, broken boldly by 
 the orange stripe on the shawl which she had thrown 
 around her shoulders. At two paces from her stood 
 Hypolit, leaning against one of the white pillars and 
 blowing his cigarette smoke out into the garden. 
 As the first chord sounded on the piano, Zenobia 
 rose leisurely. 
 
 ' I think that, after all, I shall hear better inside/ 
 she said, as she passed in through the open door. 
 
 Melanya and Agata had vigorous voices, moder- 
 ately well trained, and Gregor would have preferred
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 165 
 
 to listen to the duets undisturbed by the necessity of 
 saying ' Yes ' and ' No ' to Father Urban's rhapsodies 
 on his future church ; it was therefore a distinct 
 relief when somewhere about the middle of the 
 third duet the old priest rose hastily, saying 
 
 ' I am quite forgetting myself; it is time for me to 
 be gargling my throat.' 
 
 Gregor put his head back against the seat with 
 something like a sigh of relief. The duet came 
 presently to an end ; there was the sound of a dis- 
 cussion at the piano, and then Melanya's voice was 
 heard alone. What was that ? At the very first 
 note Gregor felt himself shaken from head to foot, 
 while his hands tightened nervously on the arms of 
 the chair for this was the song of the ' Black Eyes ' 
 which he had not heard since last autumn, and which 
 he had then heard sung in her voice : 
 
 ' I walk on the earth, 
 I sail on the water, 
 But whether sunshine glitters, 
 Whether thunder groans and lightnings flash, 
 Whether the stars burn in the sky, 
 Whether day, whether night surrounds me, 
 Whether in the dark, whether in the light, 
 Always with me and before me 
 Those black eyes shine.' 
 
 With one hand laid over his face, Gregor listened. 
 He felt as though it were impossible not to groan 
 aloud, and yet feared by that groan to lose one note 
 of the exquisite agony of the song. It was as 
 though a hand had been unexpectedly laid upon 
 the wound that was not yet healed, that only had
 
 1 66 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 not smarted too sensibly because it had not been 
 touched. 
 
 ' Is it her black eyes you are thinking of, or the 
 other one's ? ' 
 
 The words were spoken at a few paces from him, 
 low and yet painfully distinct. Gregor looked up 
 with a start ; he had quite forgotten that he was not 
 alone. Over there, Hypolit Jarewicz still leaned 
 against the pillar, and the cigarette smoke still floated 
 about him ; from out of the bluish clouds the dark 
 face, with its fatiguingly brilliant smile, watched 
 keenly, giving to Gregor the impression that it had 
 watched thus for several minutes past. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' asked Gregor, in sudden 
 confusion, like a culprit detected. 
 
 ' I mean that they both had black eyes Zenia and 
 Wasia and I am wondering now whether it was 
 the eyes of your wife you were thinking of just now 
 when you covered your face with your hands ? ' 
 
 With a few leisurely steps Hypolit had crossed 
 the verandah, and now put his shoulder against 
 another pillar one that stood straight opposite 
 to Gregor's chair. He closed his lips, letting the 
 cigarette smoke issue through his wide-slit nostrils, 
 and with his eyes fixed on Gregor's face. The look 
 seemed to Gregor so aggressive that he glanced 
 aside. 
 
 ' No answer ? ' laughed Hypolit lightly ; ' that is as 
 good an answer as any, for if it had been your wife's 
 eyes that you were thinking of you would have told 
 me so at once. But seriously, Gregor, this sinks you
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 167 
 
 in my estimation considerably ; I thought better of 
 your taste than that. The idea of comparing the 
 two ! Do you remember the days when I used to 
 astonish Hlobaki with my bicycle? the days when 
 you still hammered A B Cs into infantile heads. 
 Well, as long ago as that I was jealous of you 
 already, so what do you suppose I am now? 
 
 Said differently, the remark would have been some- 
 thing different, but with these gleaming teeth so 
 smilingly displayed, it could easily pass muster as 
 a rather audacious pleasantry. Yet something in the 
 expression of the eyes fixed upon him disturbed 
 Gregor and quite confused his ideas as to how the 
 remark was meant to be regarded. Always awkward 
 in anything like a bandying of words, he sat helpless 
 before his interlocutor, handicapped by the impos- 
 sibility of even feigning to treat lightly a subject 
 which seemed to himself so desperately serious. 
 
 ' If she could have loved you, I would have left 
 her to you,' he said at last, with an earnestness which 
 made an almost comical contrast to the other's 
 flippancy. 
 
 ' Would you really ? ' Crushing the stump of his 
 cigarette against the pillar, Hypolit hurled it out 
 into the garden with an almost vicious gesture. ' But 
 how could she, while she had your blue eyes to dream 
 of? There are songs about blue eyes too, are there 
 not ? More, I think, than about black ones. Does 
 she sing them, I wonder? ' 
 
 ' She does not sing,' answered Gregor, at which 
 Hypolit uttered a fragment of an exceedingly un-
 
 1 68 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 musical laugh, and began to roll a fresh cigarette 
 between his fingers. 
 
 ' If you were vain you would teach her. But I 
 suppose the elements of vanity do not exist in your 
 nature ; if they did, you ought to have grown at 
 least six inches since last autumn. I Ve seen some- 
 thing of the world, my friend, and I can tell you 
 that it isn't every husband who is purchased at such 
 a price.' 
 
 Gregor was again losing the thread of the idea. 
 
 4 A price ? You are speaking of the money which 
 Father Nikodem advanced me?' 
 
 ' I wonder if you are as simple as you look ? No, 
 I am not speaking of the money.' 
 
 ' Of what, then?' 
 
 ' To buy a husband with money is nothing so very 
 new, but to be thought worthy of a crime ! ' 
 
 ' I understand nothing,' said Gregor, opening his 
 blue eyes to their full. 
 
 'Then you are the only person who does not. 
 Tell me ' and Hypolit bent suddenly forward 
 towards Gregor 'can you seriously believe that 
 Wasia died a natural death ? ' 
 
 Hypolit's small, intense eyes were boring into 
 Gregor's as he spoke, and for a moment the smile 
 was extinguished. 
 
 Immovably, and almost unblinkingly, Gregor stared 
 back into the face above him, without feeling the 
 power of looking away. He had heard the words 
 quite plainly, without having yet begun to follow 
 out the idea they suggested, or even quite grasped
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 169 
 
 their meaning. If he felt a slight shiver pass over 
 the skin of his head it was because of the significance 
 of the look bent upon him, rather than because of 
 the words he had heard. With his upright fair hair, 
 his wide, mild-looking blue eyes and his rigid, shaven 
 face, he was, at this moment, almost alarming to 
 look at. 
 
 It was only when Hypolit changed his position 
 that he felt able to remove his own eyes, and then 
 also, the momentary mental paralysis being passed, 
 something which could only be comprehension 
 flashed through his brain. All he was conscious of 
 in that first moment was a wave of frank indignation, 
 sweeping aside even all feeling of pain. 
 
 'It is that you accuse her of?' he cried, rising 
 almost threateningly to his feet. 
 
 ' Ah, no,' said Hypolit, who was smiling again, ' not 
 I alone.' 
 
 Gregor could not be sure whether he had heard 
 the last word aright, and before he could speak again 
 he saw Hypolit's eyes move towards the open door, 
 at which Father Urban had just reappeared.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 DURING the drive home, Gregor, though rather 
 silent, was more than usually attentive to his 
 wife, for he belonged in general to the order of 
 husbands who have more talent for being waited 
 upon than for paying the usual little attentions. It 
 had not been possible to have another word alone 
 with Hypolit, nor to express the honest indignation 
 with which the base insinuation, uttered so flippantly, 
 had filled him ; and the only way of easing his feel- 
 ings in this direction was by settling the rug about 
 Zenobia's feet, and by asking her from time to time 
 whether he were not driving too fast ? Zenobia her- 
 self, agreeably surprised at this assiduity, could not 
 forbear remarking upon it. 
 
 ' Really, Gregor, you should pay less attention to 
 me and more to the horse,' she said, with a happy 
 side glance, ' or else we might end by finding our- 
 selves in a ditch.' 
 
 The hot sense of indignation was still upon Gregor 
 when he drew up before their little rustic dwelling 
 at Rubience, and so full were his thoughts of all the 
 things that he ought to have said to Hypolit, of all 
 the refutations of the odious calumny which already 
 
 170
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 171 
 
 had occurred to him, that it became difficult either 
 to keep up conversation, or to settle to anything 
 definite ; and that, with Zenobia's chronic taciturnity, 
 threatened to make the evening drag interminably- 
 It was almost a deliverance when, declaring herself 
 tired by the day's outing, she withdrew early, for 
 now, at least, he could think his own thoughts, un- 
 disturbed by her questioning gaze, which, merely to 
 meet, made him feel vaguely guilty, as though only 
 to have listened to those words of accusation were 
 a disloyalty towards her. 
 
 With a deep breath he rose, as the door closed 
 behind her, and began to pace about the small, low- 
 ceilinged room, where everything from the modest 
 furniture and white lace window-curtains, down to 
 the two or three glass vases and the five or six 
 photograph frames, which was all that adorned the 
 bare walls was still of a painful newness, without a 
 stain or a speck of dust, but also without the conse- 
 cration which long habit gives. He had been much 
 in the open air to-day, yet he felt no trace of sleepi- 
 ness, but, on the contrary, so wide awake that he 
 could not just now imagine what that sense of 
 drowsiness must feel like which he had seen a 
 minute ago in Zenobia's dark eyes. Until now he 
 had not had leisure to examine those dreadful words 
 which Hypolit had spoken. If he had heard aright, 
 and he was certain that he had heard aright they 
 could only mean that Zenobia was suspected of 
 having killed her sister, and popularly suspected, it 
 would seem, to judge of Hypolit's last words : ' Not
 
 i;2 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 I alone.' Well, considering the blackness of the 
 human heart, and the peculiar circumstances of the 
 case, it was not so very surprising that the calumny 
 should have arisen. The coincidence of the death, 
 happening on the eve of the wedding, had been 
 most unfortunate, certainly ; but the Popadia had 
 said expressly that the doctor had attested an 
 inflammation of the intestines, and it was to be 
 supposed that doctors do not make mistakes. If 
 only it had not been for that unfortunate coin- 
 cidence ! No, it was not only natural, it was almost 
 unavoidable that the rumour should have arisen. 
 Poor Zenia ! Did she know herself suspected ? he 
 wondered, and at the same moment stood still in 
 his walk about the room. He had just remembered 
 her marked dislike to appearing in public, and the 
 scene in the street of Lussyatyn, when so many eyes 
 had looked at her so curiously. Of course she knew, 
 and probably had suffered acutely. Why had the 
 poor girl not spoken to him frankly ? Perhaps 
 because she had not wanted to touch his wound 
 by even so much as the name of Wasia. But it 
 was he himself who would speak first ; it was not 
 right that she should suffer thus unjustly ! He 
 would assure her of his absolute faith in her, even 
 at the cost of an inner pain ! 
 
 He was but one step from the little window, and 
 having reached it, leaned there with his forehead 
 against the pane, gazing out with fevered eyes into 
 the starlit night. Before him lay the plain which 
 separated the village from Lussyatyn, and across
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 173 
 
 which they had driven to-day ; beyond the moun- 
 tains the same mountains he had loved to gaze 
 on from the common at Hlobaki, but so much nearer 
 here masses of transparent shadow against the 
 transparent night sky. But, though Gregor's eyes 
 were wide open, he did not see those things now ; 
 what he saw was only Hypolit's face, and the faces 
 of his sisters, as they had appeared that day in the 
 street. No more need now to look for an explana- 
 tion of their coldness that and many other things 
 were explained now. And these calumniators called 
 themselves Christian people ! Oh, monsters of un- 
 charity ! 
 
 For a moment longer Gregor remained immove- 
 able, with his hot forehead against the glass, whose 
 coolness was grateful, then straightened himself 
 quickly, and, going to the table, took up the petro- 
 leum lamp which stood there, and opened the door 
 into the bedroom. Would Zenia be already asleep? 
 Evidently she was, or else she would have moved at 
 his entrance. Treading softly, he walked up close 
 to the bed. Zenobia, her long black plait hanging 
 over the edge of the bed, and almost on to the floor, 
 her face pressed into the pillow, lay there breathing 
 softly. With his left hand shading the light, Gregor 
 gazed down long and intently. He was aware of 
 feeling provoked by her position, which prevented 
 his seeing her face clearly ; a cheek he could see, 
 and the strongly moulded jaw, and the sweep of one 
 black eyebrow, and, for the first time, it struck him 
 how full of individuality the face was of a strong
 
 174 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 and almost violent individuality, under its mask of 
 apathy. Such a woman ought to be capable of 
 great actions, of unusual actions even. 
 
 All at once it struck him as strange that he should 
 be standing thus here, and doing what he was doing. 
 In a flash he seemed to catch sight of his own image 
 and action as seen from an outsider's point of view, 
 and could find no explanation for it but one, the 
 one which the outsider would probably have put 
 upon it. 
 
 He set down the lamp hastily, almost angrily, on 
 the table at the foot of the bed, and for a moment 
 he thought of waking up Zenobia in order to assure 
 her in that very instant, without any delay at all, of 
 his full belief in her innocence. But that impulse 
 he quickly recognised as foolish. It would be better 
 to wait until to-morrow, when he could speak to her 
 quietly, and when the unpleasant excitement pro- 
 duced by his talk with Hypolit was vanished. 
 
 ' It will be gone to-morrow ! ' he said to himself, 
 as he hastily undressed. 
 
 But, although he put out the light, he could not 
 for long get rid of that terrible sensation of wide- 
 awakeness. 
 
 It was nearly midnight when he ceased to be 
 aware of Zenobia's breathing beside him, and that 
 for the last time he said to himself: ' It will be gone 
 to-morrow ! ' 
 
 But when he opened his eyes in broad daylight, it 
 was not gone ; and, together with his consciousness, 
 there came to him a thought which seemed to have
 
 '75 
 
 watched beside his bed, ready to pounce upon his 
 imagination with the agility of some animal of prey. 
 
 ' Can it be that her father himself thinks her 
 guilty ? ' 
 
 That was the thought, and, scarcely born, it seemed 
 to grow with the rapidity of some monster of fable. 
 With unpleasant vividness he remembered Father 
 Nikodem's so strangely broken look on the day when, 
 for the second time, he had proffered his request for 
 Zenia's hand. He recalled the shock he had felt at 
 the Pope's changed appearance, and how it had 
 seemed to him even then that this breakdown, both 
 physical and moral, seemed not quite explained by 
 his fresh grief. But if the unhappy father had had 
 that other thought, and had harboured it, then any 
 change could be explained. Yet, was it conceivable 
 that he should have harboured it ? Her own father ! 
 a priest of God ! knowing his own child intim- 
 ately, and able to judge of events at a close view? 
 
 Gregor turned uneasily in his bed and became 
 aware that Zenobia was no longer beside him. She 
 was up and busy in the house according to her 
 thrifty habit. Time for him, surely, to be busy as 
 well ! With a hasty movement he arose and began 
 to dress. It was long since he had been so remiss, 
 and neither had he the sensation of having been 
 refreshed by his sleep, but was aware of a smarting 
 about the eyes, as of a man who has passed his 
 night out of bed. 
 
 As he passed out through the sitting-room, on his 
 way to hear confessions in the church, Zenobia, with an
 
 1 76 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 unbleached linen apron covering her dress, was busy 
 dusting the slender collection of knick-knacks all 
 of them wedding-presents which she never trusted 
 to the servant girl's hands. The colourless apron 
 was not particularly becoming, and the chill morning 
 air, coming in by the open window, gave a pinched 
 look to her sallow face, round which the hair still 
 hung uncombed. 
 
 ' It is strange what Hypolit can see in her ! ' was 
 the thought which crossed his mind, as, unknown to 
 himself, he went through a swift mental comparison 
 between this face and another which he would never 
 see again and which he had always seen to the 
 fullest advantage. 
 
 ' Why did you not wake me as usual ? ' he asked 
 reproachfully.' 
 
 'You looked so tired, and it seemed to me that 
 you slept restlessly.' 
 
 'What? Did I speak?' asked Gregor quickly. 
 
 ' No, but you groaned several times. I rather 
 think that pudding yesterday was underdone,' added 
 Zenobia, in a matter-of-fact tone. 
 
 The remark was so much of a relief that Gregor 
 nearly laughed. There was no servant within hear- 
 ing, and it would have been easy to take her hand 
 and to give her the assurance that he had wanted to 
 give her last night. For a moment Gregor thought 
 that he was going to do it, but when he opened his 
 mouth it was only to say 
 
 ' Don't expect me back until one o'clock at 
 earliest.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 177 
 
 ' Very well,' said Zenobia resignedly, ' but don't 
 forget to eat the sandwich which I put into the 
 pocket of your coat ; you will always find a moment 
 between the confessions.' 
 
 This being the time of the Easter confessions, the 
 primitive confessional in the church was already 
 beleaguered by a crowd of men and women with 
 work-worn faces, which the long, rigorous fast-time 
 now approaching its end had rendered often 
 haggard and sometimes ghastly ; for neither age nor 
 sickness is regarded as a sufficient excuse for shirk- 
 ing this severe discipline. Many sat upon their 
 heels, some had sunk down squatting on the floor, 
 and the eyes of old and young strayed towards the 
 door, even while the lips kept moving incessantly ; 
 but on all these waiting faces not one sign of im- 
 patience or irritation. In such improvident eyes as 
 those of the Ruthenian peasant time has no value, 
 while weariness to him exists not within the four 
 walls of his little wooden church, where the gilt back- 
 ground of bright pictures, where huge, rudely carved 
 candlesticks and enormous flower-decked candles of 
 solid bees'-wax rejoice his childlike heart and flatter 
 his colour-loving eyes, and which, above all, is the 
 only place in which he ceases to be a beast of 
 burden. A hard-worked and pleasureless life these 
 people lead, yet possess a treasure which many of 
 the prosperous of the earth would gladly lay down 
 their riches to possess the gift of a simple, un- 
 swerving faith, the happy consciousness that this is 
 not the end of all, and that however bitterly the 
 M
 
 178 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 tears may flow beside a deathbed, they will infallibly 
 be dried some day ; for them there is no parting that 
 is final. Though their tired backs may be bent over 
 the spade, and their weary faces bathed in sweat ; 
 though the maize may fail and the potatoes rot, it 
 can only happen with the will of One whom they 
 feel able to submit to, and who can another time 
 give as much good as it now pleases Him to 
 dispense evil ; and if the worst comes to the worst, 
 there is always the cerkivie (church) to go to the 
 cerkwie, which, after all, is only the first landing- 
 stage of that country where the maize will grow 
 of itself, and will require neither to be hoed nor 
 peeled. Take the little wooden building from the 
 heart of each group of straw-thatched huts, and you 
 take from the dwellers under those roofs the one 
 golden spot in their life, whose brightness suffices to 
 gild all the rest of their existence. 
 
 There was a pulling together of limbs and a 
 raising of heads as Gregor took his seat in the con- 
 fessional, to which an old man hastily tottered. 
 This poor old sinner spoke so indistinctly that it 
 was all Gregor could do to gain a clear view of the 
 state of his soul. A young woman followed him, 
 then an old one, then another and another ; to 
 Gregor the stream seemed interminable. The 
 functions of a confessor were those which, as a rule, 
 he fulfilled with most enthusiasm, finding in them 
 the greatest scope for personal influence ; but to-day 
 he quickly became conscious of a want of interest, 
 an inner dryness and indifference, for which he
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 179 
 
 rebuked himself at every minute. At moments he 
 caught himself not listening at all, but going over 
 the details of his conversation with Hypolit. Each 
 time he pronounced the words of absolution he 
 inwardly resolved to give his whole mind to the 
 next confession, and again, while listening to the 
 monotonous list of offences which he knew by heart 
 already, his thoughts would stray, and always to the 
 same point. At intervals, sometimes right in the 
 middle of a confession, something new would occur 
 to him ; as, for instance, when with an inner start 
 he remembered how on the day of his betrothal to 
 Zenobia the Pope had said to him : ' You know 
 how people will talk.' And how Zenobia herself 
 had asked: 'Are you afraid of nothing?' He 
 understood now, though he had not understood 
 then. 
 
 Scarcely had he detected himself on this train of 
 thought when he again pulled himself together, and 
 began, almost with asperity, to lecture the penitent 
 in the confessional on the duties of charity and the 
 wickedness of harbouring thoughts of evil against 
 one's neighbour. 
 
 During a pause in the long and weary ceremony 
 Gregor went out to breathe the air on the grassy 
 space behind the church. His neck was stiff with 
 the cramped position, and in his head there seemed 
 to hum all the hushed and tremulous voices that had 
 just been pouring their secrets into his ear. Mean 
 and commonplace secrets they were, for the most 
 part, yet stained more than once with the real black
 
 i8o THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 of sin, and smirched with its mud. These childlike- 
 looking peasants were neither so inoffensive as they 
 looked nor so saintly as their faith would have made 
 them had they but lived up to it, but were given to 
 the commonplace failings of men and women all 
 over the world. The disgust of much that he had 
 heard to-day surged over Gregor now, bringing with 
 it that disgust of his fellow-creatures in general, from 
 which he had always slightly suffered. Human 
 nature was after all a worse, not a better, thing 
 than he had taken it for, and full of alarming 
 possibilities. 
 
 All the rest of that day partook of the character 
 of weary length which had marked the previous 
 evening. Towards night, having forced himself to 
 analyse the restlessness within him, he found it to 
 consist of an impatient desire to speak to Hypolit 
 again, not only in order to express his indignation 
 more explicitly, but also to put some questions. 
 He wanted to know what were the particular circum- 
 stances which had chiefly given rise to this awful 
 idea. Hypolit was no farther off than Lussyatyn, 
 but nothing but urgent business could explain his 
 leaving his parish at so busy a time as Holy Week. 
 Gregor shrank from the invention of a pretext, not 
 because of others, but because of himself. To go 
 to Lussyatyn now would be to acknowledge to 
 himself that the odious suspicion had troubled him 
 far more deeply than he was yet prepared to 
 acknowledge. The Easter days must absolutely be
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 181 
 
 waited for, and meanwhile Zenobia must not, on any 
 account, guess that he had even heard of the calumny 
 which was afloat. With this thought in his mind, he 
 put so careful a guard upon his demeanour that all 
 that Zenobia noticed was an increase of assiduity 
 which almost amounted to tenderness, and which 
 she, inwardly rejoicing, attributed to the solicitude 
 awakened by her state of health, and gratefully and 
 humbly acknowledged by a passing pressure of the 
 hand or an occasional glance of deep affection. But 
 these glances were the one thing that came near to 
 breaking down Gregor's self-control, for he did not 
 want just now to be reminded of her love. If in the 
 early days of his marriage he had often remorsefully 
 asked himself what she must have suffered, the 
 thought came back to him now with a new impor- 
 tunity, suggesting reflections, the consideration of 
 which, he felt, would definitely destroy his peace. 
 
 The Easter visit to Lussyatyn proved a failure. 
 Although all the notabilities of the place were 
 elbowing each other in the Jarewiczs' dining-room, 
 where Melanya and Agata had done their best, by 
 various little elegances of decoration, to temper 
 the too patriarchal character of the time-honoured 
 swiezone (Easter repast), Hypolit was nowhere to 
 be seen. ' The Chrobaks would have him at their 
 swiezonel Melanya explained. But a new hope 
 sprang up in Gregor's breast as she added : ' He is 
 not going back to Vienna before the end of the 
 week.' 
 
 During that week, Gregor, now regardless of
 
 1 82 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 appearances, made several efforts to meet Hypolit, 
 always without success ; for at this Easter season 
 there was much gaiety going on. 
 
 ' He is sure to be staying over the Sunday,' said 
 Gregor to himself, as alone in his little cart he took 
 the road to Lussyatyn on the following Sunday 
 afternoon. 
 
 From the street he caught sight of Agata walking 
 in the garden. Abruptly he drew up, too impatient 
 to drive round to the house, and leaping to the 
 ground, approached the paling. 
 
 ' Good afternoon, Pani Agata ! I have caught 
 Hypolit this time, have I not ? ' he asked, in a tone 
 of artificial jocularity that contrasted unpleasantly 
 with his usual grave address. 
 
 Agata stood still on the gravel walk, turning an 
 early pansy between the tips of her fingers. 
 
 ' Hypolit ! Really, Pan Petrow, you have no luck ! 
 Hypolit went off last night to catch the express.' 
 
 'To Vienna?' asked Gregor, his jaw dropping 
 slowly. 
 
 ' Of course. He is gone back to his studies.' 
 
 ' And he returns ? ' 
 
 ' In July, for the summer holidays, like every other 
 year,' said Agata, evidently astonished at this warm 
 interest in Hypolit's movements. She had never 
 been aware of any particularly intimate friendship 
 between her brother and Gregor Petrow. 
 
 ' Then it is all over for the present,' said Gregor, 
 turning his back upon Agata, principally because he 
 feared that there might be something to astonish her
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 183 
 
 in his eyes, and gazing along the road which wound 
 away down the valley, and white already with the 
 first dust of the season. As he stared along its 
 blinding length he seemed to himself to be gazing 
 upon the chain of weeks which he would have to 
 pass before he could again speak to Hypolit, and 
 therefore before seeing any clearer in his present 
 perplexity. Until the middle of July ! And this 
 was scarcely May yet ! More than two whole months 
 to live with the secret locked up within him in 
 company with that doubt which he now recognised 
 as something alive within him, and which would 
 feed on his very heart if it could find no other food. 
 
 He stood so long gazing down the valley that 
 Agata asked 
 
 ' Will you not come in and have a cup of tea ? 
 Papa will be glad to see you.' 
 
 Then he turned round. 
 
 ' No, thank you ; my wife expects me home. 
 Pray give my respects to your father/ 
 
 And without stopping to ask himself how his 
 somewhat erratic conduct might strike her, he 
 mounted to his seat and turned the horse round.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THAT moment when he had stood upon the 
 road looking up the valley, with his back to 
 the Jarewiczs' garden, had been to Gregor a turning- 
 point in the history of his inner life. Whereas until 
 now he had shrunk from any close examination of 
 the facts of the case, he now began to investigate 
 them with an impatient eagerness. It was from 
 Hypolit that he had hoped for an appeasing of the 
 horrified curiosity within him ; but now that Hypolit 
 was lost to him for two whole months, there was 
 nothing for it but to try and appease this curiosity 
 in other ways, which could only be by a close 
 investigation of every detail of the case. Certainty 
 was what he wanted ; the mere belief in Zenobia's 
 innocence no longer sufficed it must be made into 
 certainty. 
 
 And now that he gave them audience, the 
 memories, each of them of sinister significance, 
 crowded in upon his mind, like petitioners that have 
 long beleaguered a closed door. But not one among 
 them spoke for that innocence which he so earnestly 
 desired to prove to himself, in order to be rid of the 
 horror of the thought which had never left his side 
 
 184
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 185 
 
 since Palm Sunday, which walked with him in the 
 street, sat with him at table, lay down with him to 
 rest, was watching by his bedside when he opened 
 his eyes yea, which even accompanied him up the 
 very steps of the altar. To the large-minded, the 
 fundamentally easy-going and primitively constructed 
 Slav there exists but one supreme, one unforgivable 
 crime, and it is that of bloodshed. Every other 
 sin, be it as black and as base as human nature 
 allows of, can be forgiven, and even excused ; but 
 the taking of life, never ! for that right belongs to 
 the Almighty alone, and no penance can condone it 
 when done by human hand. The mere thought that 
 a person standing so near to himself was accused, 
 even though unjustly, of the one crime that counts, 
 was enough almost mentally to paralyse Gregor, 
 who, despite all individual qualities, was a true 
 representative of his nation. 
 
 One memory showed him the glance of repulsion, 
 almost of hatred yes, he recognised now that it had 
 been hatred which Zenobia had hurled at her sister 
 on the evening of the betrothal, while the scraping 
 of the fiddles had sounded across the yard, through 
 the open door of the barn. He had seen that same 
 look again on the very eve of the catastrophe, when, 
 entering the room abruptly, he had surprised the 
 sisters evidently in dispute. Zenobia's tone and look 
 then had been the tone and the look of a woman 
 capable of an unusual action but of a crime? No, 
 surely not ; and yet she herself had said : ' I have 
 loved you too well ! ' What could she have meant?
 
 1 86 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 With his head in his hands, Gregor, while Zenobia 
 supposed him busy with his entries in the parish 
 books, would pass hours in trying to imagine what 
 had probably passed in her mind during the days 
 that preceded Wasylya's death. From time to time 
 a shiver of mental terror would run over him. Why, 
 after all, had he at first put aside the supposition as 
 impossible? Was anything impossible where human 
 passion entered ? Had not such crimes been com- 
 mitted thousands of times since men and women 
 were created ? And were not all the usual premises 
 for a crime present here? It was at least most con- 
 ceivable that Zenobia had wished to see her sister 
 removed, since that sister was the one obstacle to 
 her happiness ; and had not even his short experience 
 in the confessional already taught him that from the 
 thought to the deed there is only one step ? 
 
 Then, in the midst of this train of thought, would 
 arise another memory-picture: the face of the servant- 
 girl Hania, when he had come back to the house, 
 and her frightened, almost horrified question : 
 'Surely you are not going to woo Panna Zenia?' 
 That, too, fitted in to the story in which Hypolit 
 Jarewicz pretended to believe. 
 
 Gregor himself did not believe ; but, forced on 
 by that deep - seated mistrust which is the bane 
 of the Ruthenian mind, and which already in the 
 seminary had rendered him evil service, he turned 
 and re-turned each of these circumstances in his 
 thoughts finding, indeed, no certainty of any sort, 
 but feeling how, in the process, that vainly found
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 187 
 
 peace, which he had been at so much pains to acquire, 
 gradually withered away. If he did not in these 
 days betray himself to Zenobia, it was only because 
 of the almost savage restraint which he put upon 
 himself, and because the Slav's inherent talent for 
 secrecy did him good service at this time. 
 
 But Hypolit's coming was too far off. Soon Gregor 
 began to feel that he could not remain inactive until 
 July. It was towards the end of May that, with 
 a certain embarrassment of manner, he announced 
 to Zenobia his intention of driving over to Hlobaki, 
 in order to ask Father Nikodem's advice regarding 
 a difficulty with a parishioner. Zenia looked sur- 
 prised, but made no objection beyond saying 
 
 ' Could you not ask Father Urban's advice just as 
 well? If you go to Hlobaki you cannot be back the 
 same day.' 
 
 ' I know, but I can be spared for a day at this 
 season ; and I have a far greater regard for your 
 father's knowledge of the people than for Father 
 Urban's.' 
 
 The pretext sounded plausible enough, and yet 
 Gregor knew quite well that it was only a pretext, 
 and did not breathe freely until it became clear that 
 Zenobia was not going to offer to accompany him. 
 
 Hlobaki lay between its birchwoods, with cloud 
 shadows driving over its roofs and across the grass- 
 spotted common, when Gregor saw it again for the 
 first time since his marriage. At the sight his heart 
 swelled painfully, big with acute recollections. 
 
 He was following the well-known track when the
 
 1 88 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 tiny tinkle of a bell fell upon his ear. From out of 
 one of the side lanes that ran between the huts, 
 a group of men and women were issuing with bent 
 heads and clasped hands, and at their head he marked 
 a broad figure in priestly robes. Quickly he pulled 
 up his horse in the middle of the common. Father 
 Nikodem, with the viaticum in his hands, was evidently 
 on his way back from the bedside of a dying person. 
 He would follow the little procession, and thus gain 
 a few minutes with the Pope outside the walls of his 
 house, which was what he preferred. Confiding the 
 horse to the nearest of the goose-herds, Gregor crossed 
 the common to where the string of peasants were 
 heading for the church. He could not see Father 
 Nikodem's face, but looked sorrowfully at the bent 
 figure which a year ago had still been upright and 
 sturdy. Up to the gate of the cemetery he followed 
 with the peasants, who respectfully saluted him, and 
 then stood still on the road to wait for his father- 
 in-law. He knew that on the other side of that 
 wooden wall, at only a few dozen paces, there was 
 a spot towards which he had often yearned in his 
 dreams, but a sense of unfitness kept him from putting 
 his foot on that ground. 
 
 One by one the peasants dispersed. He was alone 
 when Father Nikodem, dragging his feet a little, 
 came back through the gate ; and now Gregor could 
 note how the black shadows that had always marked 
 the Pope's swarthy face had grown deeper and 
 blacker within the last months. At sight of Gregor 
 he brightened momentarily it was evident that he
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 189 
 
 had not noticed him until then but on the brightness 
 followed swiftly a look of anxiety. 
 
 ' What is it, my son ? Nothing has happened with 
 you?' 
 
 ' Nothing,' said Gregor, with an uncertain smile of 
 reassurance. 
 
 ' Zenia is not with you ? ' 
 
 As he said ' No,' Gregor, watching closely, seemed 
 to see a relief of the tension on the father's face. 
 
 ' I have come to ask you about a difficulty I have 
 in the village and also to see how you have all 
 passed the winter,' he added a little lamely, suddenly 
 conscious that the other pretext was not strong 
 enough to stand alone. 
 
 ' Oh, well enough well enough/ said Father 
 Nikodem hastily ; ' but, of course, one grows older 
 every year.' 
 
 ' Yes, but one ought to grow only one year older 
 every year,' said Gregor, looking hard into the Pope's 
 face, ' and you seem to have grown ten years older. 
 How is that, Father Nikodem ? ' 
 
 The old priest gave an uneasy laugh, and began 
 to walk down the lane, as though to escape from the 
 gaze fixed upon him. 
 
 ' One year is not like another, my son. You your- 
 self have changed. Are you content with Zenia?' 
 he asked suddenly, darting a quick side-glance 
 towards his companion. 
 
 ' How should I not be content ? She is all a wife 
 should be.' 
 
 It was said readily, but without enthusiasm, and
 
 i go 
 
 the Pope's black eyes still sought Gregor's face 
 uneasily. 
 
 ' If you have confidence in your wife, all will 
 go well/ he said, after a moment, with a certain 
 solemnity ; ' for if one thing is certain, it is that 
 she loves you.' 
 
 Gregor said nothing, and for a minute they walked 
 on in silence, and each of the men had the very vivid 
 sensation of being closely watched by the other. 
 
 ' Father Nikodem/ began Gregor abruptly, just as 
 they emerged on to the common, ' to harbour sus- 
 picion without proof is sinful, is it not ? ' 
 
 ' Of course it is/ replied the Pope, with an asperity 
 that Gregor had not known in him. 'We should 
 never think evil of our neighbour, not even when he 
 is evil ; how much less when the evil, maybe, exists 
 in our evil thoughts alone ! ' 
 
 Their eyes met for a moment as he said it, and 
 although this remained the most explicit word spoken 
 between them, each knew that the other had under- 
 stood. In that glance Gregor recognised that Father 
 Nikodem suffered from the same disease as himself, 
 and a sensation almost of pain began to settle down 
 upon him. Her father! Her father himself! in 
 whom he had hoped to find a confidence which might 
 support his own ! Where was he to look for that 
 confidence now? It was this, then, which had ex- 
 tinguished the genial smile and bent the sturdy 
 shoulders ? this same thing that was boring into his 
 own thoughts like a worm ? 
 
 What more was said before the house was reached
 
 THE SUPREME .CRIME 191 
 
 belonged to the commonplace order of remarks, and 
 did not always hang well together, as commonplace 
 remarks should ; and once within the walls of the 
 parsonage, the presence of the Popadia put a natural 
 end to the tete-a-tte. Nothing more had been said 
 about the difficulty with the parishioner, and Gregor, 
 as he sipped the tea set before him, began to make 
 plans in his own mind for starting home that same 
 night ; there was no use in staying on here further, 
 since he had already found out what he had come to 
 ascertain. So little was he aware of his surroundings, 
 that he did not notice how it came about that he 
 presently found himself alone with Justina Moste- 
 wicz. It required her rasping voice to rouse him to 
 the fact. 
 
 ' Tell me the truth, Gregor Petrow, how is Zenia ? ' 
 
 Gregor looked up, collecting his thoughts with 
 difficulty, and found the haggard eyes of Zenia's 
 mother fixed inquiringly upon his face. 
 
 ' She is well in health.' 
 
 ' Yes but in mind ? I did not want to question 
 you before Father Nikodem ; he himself is ill in 
 mind, as you can see for yourself. Does she not 
 allow these wicked rumours to prey upon her? You 
 know, of course, of what they accuse her ? ' 
 
 Gregor nodded, not finding enough voice to say, 
 ' I know.' 
 
 ' It is dreadful how people's imaginations run wild, 
 said the Popadia with a deep sigh. 'As if any 
 daughter of mine could ever forget herself so far ! 
 I have never even known anybody who could have
 
 192 
 
 thought of killing another person, and now they 
 want to make my own daughter into an assassin ! 
 I myself don't believe that these things are ever done 
 in cold blood. That a man may put a knife into 
 another in a quarrel is possible enough, but all these 
 stories of poisoning are taken out of books, that is 
 my conviction. Is it not yours, Gregor Petrow ? ' 
 
 ' Of course/ said Gregor, pressing his hands so 
 tightly together that the knuckles whitened under 
 the skin. 
 
 ' My poor Zenia ! How worried she must feel 
 with this false shadow upon her ! You can't imagine 
 how I miss her in the kitchen and the storeroom 
 now, but I don't grudge her to you, Gregor Petrow ; 
 you know how to appreciate her, and to believe in 
 her too ! ' 
 
 To Gregor it was a relief when an interruption cut 
 short these confidences. Somehow there was no 
 more comfort for him to be found in the Popadia's 
 belief in her daughter, a belief which struck him too 
 obviously as narrow-minded, than in the Pope's 
 evident mistrust. 
 
 Early in the evening, despite the Popadia's hos- 
 pitable speeches, Gregor had his horse led out again. 
 He meant to drive through the night, if necessary. 
 As he crossed the common, over which the sun rays 
 still slanted brilliantly, his eye was caught by the 
 brown cupolas of the little church standing out 
 against the sunset sky, and although his road did 
 not lead him past it, he jerked the horse's head 
 round in that direction. The desire to see again that
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 193 
 
 mound behind the wall had suddenly become para- 
 mount, and at the same time he became aware that 
 the restraining influence of a little while ago was 
 gone. He attributed to himself a right to go there 
 which he had not felt before his talk with Father 
 Nikodem. 
 
 The cemetery of Hlobaki, as is the way of the 
 country, was as much orchard as cemetery, Ruthenian 
 priests being as a rule too thrifty to allow a good 
 piece of ground to lie waste and useless, merely from 
 a sentimental scruple. The first apple- and plum- 
 trees are put into the ground together with the first 
 corpses, and never fail to flourish upon so congenial 
 a soil, so that long before the space is full the Pope 
 can gather rich harvests of fruit, and can continue to 
 gather them for years after the ground has been 
 officially closed as a cemetery, and has reached its 
 ultimate destination of an orchard, as was the case 
 with the one at the back of Father Nikodem's house, 
 in which the Matka Boska presided over the 
 harvests. 
 
 In the enclosed space where he now stood, Gregor 
 had often seen the plums dangling on to the rude 
 monuments, or some mound covered by a shower of 
 unripe apples, shaken down by the last gust ; to-day 
 there was only the snow of over-blown blossoms 
 upon the graves, or drifted into the narrow passages 
 a snow that at places was turning brown already, 
 at others still tinged with a doubtful pink. Though 
 the sun was still shining outside, the air had here the 
 feeling of confinement, damp and close as in a cellar ; 
 N
 
 i 9 4 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 for, doubtless out of motives of economy, the trees 
 had been so closely planted as to allow but little 
 light to reach the ground ; mildew and moss had 
 eaten into the wooden crosses, rust into the iron ones. 
 It was an iron one that stood on Wasylya's grave, 
 but the rust had not had time to touch it yet. 
 Gregor had to wander for several minutes among the 
 mounds to find the one he sought for. The name in 
 gaudily gilt letters was too plain to be mistaken, and 
 yet he stared for a moment incredulously, as though 
 it were not possible to believe that this this was all 
 that remained of Wasia. A slight convulsion passed 
 over his features as he stood immovable before the 
 terribly distinct inscription ; then, falling on his 
 knees, he stretched his two arms over the damp 
 mound, and, with his face upon them, burst into 
 tears. A storm of pity, almost more than of pain, 
 was sweeping over his soul. To think of Wasia 
 Wasia, of all people in the world sleeping in this 
 dark, cold place ! Wasia, who had said to him that 
 all she wanted of life was warmth and movement 
 and noise, and now to have to lie so still and so 
 alone, with the snow over her in winter, and scarcely 
 a sunbeam that could reach her, even in summer, 
 and with nothing to listen to but the wind among 
 the leaves overhead, or the thud of an apple upon 
 the earth ! Even as he sobbed out the compassion 
 which seemed to be tearing his heart in two, in a 
 swift turn of memory he saw her as he had seen her 
 in the maize-field, with the sun in her eyes and the 
 beads flashing on her neck, and the trail of pumpkin
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 195 
 
 leaves wreathed about her shoulders ; and as he 
 looked back at that picture, and thought of what 
 now lay beneath this clammy earth, a shudder, which 
 was as much yearning as horror, ran over him. Oh 
 that he could take her out of that narrow bed, and 
 speak into her ear words that would bring back the 
 smile to those lips of clay ! 
 
 It was many minutes before, exhausted by his 
 paroxysm of grief, the first he had indulged in un- 
 restrainedly since his loss, Gregor wearily rose and 
 slowly moved down the path. It was not the path 
 he had come .by ; but tears had so blinded him, that 
 he did not see that, instead of regaining the gate, he 
 was following the track which led to a back entrance, 
 arranged for the convenience of those parishioners 
 who came from the side of the plain no more than a 
 stile in the high wooden planking which enclosed the 
 space. Here the trees ceased, and the hill sloped 
 away suddenly, so that Gregor, emerging from the 
 dark track he had been mechanically following, 
 found himself unexpectedly in the sunshine once 
 more, with the free air of heaven about him, and the 
 smiling country, chequered with its sprouting corn- 
 fields and its freshly green copses, and with the flash 
 of the river over the plain, all stretched before him. 
 It was like the opening of a prison door, like a return 
 from death to life. The dead lay behind him, the 
 living before him. To which would his loyalty 
 belong?
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 DAWN was scarcely yet whitening the sky when 
 Gregor drew up before his door, in which the 
 key was peacefully sticking, for housebreakers have 
 not yet spread to this corner of the earth. Having 
 taken the horse to the stables and unharnessed it, 
 without any one having been awakened in the 
 process, he introduced himself quietly into the house, 
 and, weary with the long drive, felt his way to the 
 bedroom. The grey light, just beginning to look in 
 at the windows, was enough to show him Zenobia 
 sound asleep, and not moving at his entrance. The 
 second bed, with its snowy pillow and temptingly 
 turned-down sheet, looked singularly inviting to a 
 traveller whose joints had almost been shaken out 
 of their sockets on the cross-country roads. Gregor 
 began unbuttoning his coat, and then, suddenly 
 desisting, turned away and began pacing the room. 
 He had taken off his boots in the entrance, so that 
 there seemed little danger of awakening the sleeper. 
 There had come over him a sort of horror at the 
 idea of lying down beside this woman. ' Have con- 
 fidence in her ! ' Father Nikodem had said ; but the 
 
 196
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 197 
 
 look he had said it with had not tallied with the 
 words : he had no confidence in her himself. 
 
 Before he had taken his second turn there was a 
 sound in the bed. Softly though he walked, Zenobia 
 had heard his steps in her dreams, and now opened 
 her drowsy eyes to see the shadowy figure of her 
 husband moving about the room. 
 
 ' Gregor ! You back already ? You did not spend 
 the night at Hlobaki?' 
 
 ' No ; my business was done quicker than I 
 expected.' 
 
 ' And you found my father well ? ' she asked, 
 almost timidly. 
 
 ' As well as he has been since last year ; he will 
 never get over your sister's death.' 
 
 For a minute Zenobia said nothing, tongue-tied 
 with astonishment. It was the first time since their 
 marriage that Gregor had even indirectly referred to 
 the tragedy, and she could not immediately know 
 what construction to put on this symptom. After a 
 moment only she asked in a changed voice 
 
 ' But are you not very tired ? What keeps you 
 from lying down ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know what keeps me. I was tired, but 
 it seems to be gone. Zenia,' said Gregor, standing 
 still beside the bed, and acting on an impulse whose 
 approach he had not observed, and which unex- 
 pectedly mastered him, ' what is your own opinion of 
 your sister's death ? The truth ought to be clearer 
 to you than to anybody.' 
 
 In the doubtful light he could not quite dis-
 
 198 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 tinguish her features, but he saw the mass of black 
 hair against the pillow, and from out of the immov- 
 able face two big black patches unnaturally big 
 and unnaturally black they looked which could 
 only be her eyes, fixed on him in horrified con- 
 sternation. 
 
 'Why to me?' she asked at last, almost inaudibly. 
 
 'Because you slept in the same room with her. 
 Can you not explain at all what made her die so 
 suddenly ? ' 
 
 ' The doctor said ' 
 
 ' I know what the doctor said ; but there was no 
 examination, and doctors sometimes make mistakes. 
 Do you believe he was right in what he said ? Think 
 again of that day, and tell me ! ' 
 
 Zenobia sat up quickly in bed, and grasped at 
 Gregor's hand. 
 
 ' Do not ask me to think again of that day ! ' she 
 said, in a voice which shook to its depth. ' It was 
 the most terrible day of my life ; I cannot think 
 again of it no, I cannot ! ' 
 
 With a wrench Gregor released the hand she held, 
 and turned from the bed without speaking. Zenobia 
 sat upright for a moment longer, then sank back on 
 the pillow, also in silence. Her tremulous lips had 
 closed and hardened in their lines, but Gregor would 
 not have noted this, even had it been broad daylight. 
 
 It was not only the conviction that Zenobia's 
 father believed her guilty, which Gregor had brought 
 back with him from Hlobaki, it was also the newly
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 199 
 
 awakened grief for his own loss, which those few 
 minutes passed beside the grave-mound with the new 
 iron cross upon it had abruptly and vehemently 
 brought back to life. Hitherto, almost instinctively, 
 he had refrained from thinking too much of the dead 
 Wasylya. Even while examining the evidence 
 against Zenobia he had conscientiously striven to 
 keep his personal feelings out of the matter. Now 
 at last he allowed himself to think of the dead girl, 
 and he thought of her as he had never thought of 
 her before in the light of a victim who had been 
 wrongfully robbed of her portion of life. In this 
 light the loss became far more difficult to bear ; for 
 now it did not show so clearly the character of a 
 direct intervention of Providence. In these days he 
 began to see Wasylya's face beside Zenobia's, look- 
 ing at him with imploring eyes, as though she were 
 asking to be revenged, and piercing his heart with 
 the pain of regret. Had Wasylya lived longer, it is 
 possible, and even probable, that Gregor would have 
 found out in time, and no very long time either, that 
 she was, after all, but a shallow and commonplace 
 girl, with little education and no higher qualities 
 either of heart or mind a sparkling little heathen, 
 at most ; but he had never really seen her except 
 through that golden haze which hangs about most 
 men's lives for at least a few weeks ; and before the 
 haze had time to disperse, Death had come, and by 
 putting her quite out of sight, had made her memory 
 safe for ever, and ensured for her over the rest of 
 Gregor's life an influence which, living, she never
 
 200 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 would have been able to retain. It was this influ- 
 ence that now made him shrink from Zenobia with a 
 beginning of aversion. The man in him turned from 
 her as well as the priest the man, because he sus- 
 pected in her the person who had robbed him of his 
 happiness ; the priest, because he felt the shadow of 
 that sin (which as yet was only a possible sin) upon 
 himself, and because that spiritual pride, which he 
 had once been warned against, and which since then 
 had shown signs of degenerating into spiritual 
 vanity just as though his spirit had not been strong 
 enough to bear the weight of his vocation made him 
 recoil from contact with the sinner. 
 
 Yet all this was but in his blacker moments, for 
 hope was by no means dead within him ; at times it 
 seemed even to be coming back to life. To see 
 Zenobia moving so quietly about her household 
 duties, looking so like what another woman looked 
 like who had never hurt a fly, seemed to be a constant 
 refutation of the calumny. Certainly the thing was 
 too horrible to be believed in without much stronger 
 proofs. It was as though before committing itself to 
 the final belief, and just because he felt it so near, his 
 spirit, still fighting for its liberty, recoiled, before 
 irrevocably binding itself. There still at this time 
 came moments, although his guard over himself had 
 greatly relaxed, at which Zenobia was astonished by 
 some little attention on his part ; these were the 
 moments in which the gnawing mistrust was cried 
 down by the voice of charity. At these moments 
 the realisation of the immensity of the wrong he
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 201 
 
 might be doing her would overwhelm him suddenly, 
 and he would wish passionately to hear her protest 
 her innocence, no matter with what vehemence of 
 reproach, and yet he refrained from putting the 
 direct question, for fear of hearing no such protest, 
 and of seeing his last hope vanish. And Zenobia 
 herself was evidently not going to speak unasked. 
 By the reserve of the attitude she had maintained 
 ever since his return from Hlobaki, it was evident 
 that she knew herself suspected, and much time did 
 Gregor spend torturing his brain in the hope of 
 fathoming its significance ; for it might well be the 
 natural reserve of an innocent creature, deeply 
 wounded by an unjust suspicion, but almost equally 
 well might it proceed from the consciousness of guilt 
 which has nothing to say for itself. 
 
 Exactly these alternations between suspicion and 
 hope were the worst part of Gregor's torture, grow- 
 ing at moments so acute that it seemed as though 
 to obtain the certainty of Zenobia's guilt would be 
 easier to bear than to live between this eternal horror 
 of the one supreme crime, and the terror of wronging 
 a fellow-creature, the woman who loved him, and 
 who was to be the mother of his child. His child ! 
 Even this thought was poisoned for him now, for it 
 would be Zenobia's child as well, and he would think 
 to see upon its forehead the same mark that in his 
 blackest moments he thought to read upon its 
 mother's brow. Not his child, but the child of Sin 
 it would be, the direct fruit of an awful deed, if that 
 deed had ever been done oh, confusion and per-
 
 202 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 plexity ! He was back again at the old point of 
 absolute uncertainty. 
 
 In this long-drawn-out agony of spirit the weeks 
 of the early summer passed, without bringing any 
 explanation between husband and wife. If it had 
 not been for the certainty that Hypolit would return, 
 and for the hope of the light which he might be able 
 to throw on the matter, it is hard to imagine how 
 Gregor would have lived through the time, for even 
 the joy in his priesthood had failed him, as dead 
 again, seemingly, as it had appeared to be after 
 Wasylya's death. Perhaps other people could have 
 told him as much as Hypolit could tell him, but to 
 initiate a third person into his thoughts seemed to 
 him impossible. It was upon Hypolit's arrival that 
 he kept his mental gaze fixed, as upon a hope of 
 salvation.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 TICKETS for Kolomea ! ' 
 Hypolit Jarewicz was among the second- 
 class travellers who, one dusty July afternoon, re- 
 sponded to the call. Rousing himself from the half 
 slumber into which the monotonous rattle of the 
 wheels, together with the almost tangible suffoca- 
 tion which seemed to rise from the dirty drab 
 cushions, had cast him, he smoothed down his thin 
 black hair, and looked about him. Kolomea was 
 his station for Lussyatyn, and the landscape he 
 looked at now already bore a familiar face. The 
 broad-bladed fields on each side told him that he 
 was back in the maize country, while the long-drawn 
 blue wave that lapped along the horizon spoke of 
 the welcome coolness that even on this torrid day 
 reigned in the deep Carpathian valleys. Thirty-six 
 hours ago Hypolit had lounged along the Kdrnthner 
 Strasse, and feeling as much in his element there as 
 any of the soldiers or civilians he brushed shoulders 
 with. The atmosphere of the capital, intense, keen, 
 restlessly on the move, was inherently congenial to 
 him the only one in which his own keen and intense 
 
 203
 
 204 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 nature could exist with enjoyment for any length of 
 time ; and yet the sight of those maize-fields and of 
 that blue mountain-line never failed to move him, in 
 a way for which this fin de siecle philosopher scorned 
 himself intensely. There were many other things 
 for which Hypolit Jarewicz scorned himself, with- 
 out being able to get rid of their influence, and as 
 he now gazed out at the home landscape, one of 
 these things, the one for which he scorned himself 
 most and was least able to escape from, seemed to 
 be suddenly standing quite close to him. 
 
 What there was in Zenobia Mostewicz now 
 Zenobia Petrow and lost to him for ever to make 
 her image live through the crowd of more brilliant 
 or more engaging faces which peopled the streets 
 of the capital, not even Hypolit's abnormal sharp- 
 ness of wit had ever been able to account to itself 
 satisfactorily. There was something almost illogical 
 in the attraction, whatever it was, which this half- 
 educated and distinctly dowdy country-girl exercised 
 upon the man for whom fashion and progress and 
 modernity, whether in scientific discovery or in 
 clothes, were the very breath he lived on. And here 
 there was no golden haze to dim his sight ; clearly 
 he recognised her as both half-educated and dowdy ; 
 but even the laughing comparisons which he made 
 between her and the faultlessly dressed Viennese 
 beauties, altered nothing about the fact that these 
 did no more than tickle his fancy for a moment, fading 
 away again into the crowd they came from, while this 
 one dark, somewhat ponderous image, with its heavy-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 205 
 
 lidded glance, never moved from its place. Was it 
 because the laws of contrast have to be followed, 
 and because he himself was small and physically 
 slight, that the almost monumental lines about this 
 large, reposeful woman, who never seemed to be 
 more than half awake, had taken such a hold of his 
 capricious fancy? Or was it simply because he had 
 not succeeded, and that the thought was particularly 
 galling to the almost universally successful lady-killer, 
 whose original style of ugliness had proved a pitfall 
 to far more frail female hearts than the straightest 
 noses and broadest shoulders among his fellow- 
 students? 
 
 There never is any answer to these questions, and 
 there was no answer here. Fling what bitter taunts 
 at himself he might, the fact remained that for this 
 cynical despiser, this light-hearted betrayer of women, 
 there really existed but one woman, and that was 
 Zenobia Petrow. Even in his own thoughts it was 
 odious to him to have to call her by that name. For 
 many years past he had hated Gregor. During all 
 the time that the walls of the seminary had hidden 
 him, he had seen in him the rival who, even though 
 invisible, still remained triumphant. But it was since 
 his marriage, or, more truly speaking, since Wasylya's 
 death, that this hate had become perfect. That 
 Zenobia loved Gregor he had known for long, but 
 that she had thought him worth a crime had shaken 
 him through and through, for that remark dropped 
 at Easter had been no invention of jealous spite ; 
 for him the crime existed as certainly as though
 
 206 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 proved in a court of justice, and by its existence, 
 instead of darkening Zenobia's image, gave it a more 
 dominant force. A woman who could love to the point 
 of murder, here was something to still the cravings of 
 his excitable imagination, to satisfy his love of the 
 vehement, the extraordinary, of anything that went 
 against that ancient code of morals long since re- 
 cognised by him as a worn-out garment, which 
 human society, under the guidance of such leaders 
 as Nietsche, was making ready to cast off. If his 
 envy for Gregor had been a thorn till now, it now 
 became a dagger. To have been the cause of this 
 magnificent crime ! How did this boyish, blue-eyed 
 priest come by this honour? Oh, to stand in his 
 place, and know himself bought at such a price ! 
 Was it possible that this miracle of naivete did not 
 know himself to have been thus bought? As Hypolit, 
 with his luggage ready beside him, sat upright on 
 his seat, staring out at the window, he vaguely 
 wondered whether that consternation betrayed at 
 Easter had been genuine or not. Certainly it had 
 looked genuine, and yet so complete an ignorance of 
 that which was being cried aloud on the house-tops 
 was difficult to believe in. During the next few 
 months he would probably have an opportunity of 
 judging of this. He drew down his black-beetle 
 brows rather low at the thought, for the prospect 
 of spending the rest of the summer in Zenobia's 
 vicinity had about it something that was as disturb- 
 ing as it was exciting. As matters stood now, he 
 had no intention of approaching her, principally, let
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 207 
 
 it be said, because he could see no hope of success ; 
 but occasional meetings would probably be unavoid- 
 able, and he knew that each of these would bring 
 him that sense of enraged humiliation which he had 
 always been conscious of in her presence. 
 
 ' Kolomea ! ' shouted the guard, tearing open the 
 door ; and from a thought-engrossed individual 
 Hypolit became transformed into a particle of a 
 jostling and hurrying crowd, guiltless of all thought 
 except that which regarded the safety of his luggage. 
 
 When after sunset that night, Hypolit, having 
 washed off the dust of the four hours' drive, sat at 
 the paternal supper-table, the very name he did not 
 want to hear that of Gregor Petrow was one of 
 the first to mix itself in the conversation. 
 
 ' He has been inquiring after you constantly lately,' 
 said Melanya, as she poured out the tea. ' Only 
 yesterday he was here, and so disappointed not 
 to find you yet. I had no notion you were such 
 friends. He said he would come back to-morrow.' 
 
 ' Extremely flattered, I am sure,' said Hypolit, 
 with a rather one-sided grin ; ' but I doubt whether 
 it is friendship so much as burning curiosity ; he 
 probably wants to know what is the last fashion in 
 altar-cloths in the capital. I always said that he is 
 an inquiring young man.' 
 
 ' Hypolit ! ' remonstrated his father, doing his best 
 to purse his feeble lips. 
 
 When next afternoon came, Hypolit, having drunk 
 his coffee in a more silent mood than usual, turned
 
 208 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 to his father with an abrupt question as to whether 
 he could have the dog-cart ? 
 
 ' In this heat?' asked Father Urban, starting from 
 the gentle doze into which he had just glided. 
 ' Surely this verandah is a much pleasanter place 
 than the dog-cart on such a day as this ? ' 
 
 'And then Gregor Petrow is coming,' remarked 
 Melanya. ' If you go he will miss you again.' 
 
 ' I want to miss him,' said Hypolit, with his 
 pleasantest smile. 
 
 ' Does he bore you ? Certainly he is not very 
 amusing.' 
 
 ' Yes, he bores me. At any rate I find the society 
 of Martin Chrobak more entertaining ; and as I have 
 a packet to deliver to him from his brother in Vienna, 
 I mean to deliver it to-day. Can I have the dog- 
 cart, father? I shall drive myself.' 
 
 The dog-cart was of course forthcoming, as every- 
 thing always was that Hypolit desired, and, with a 
 certain hurry, he mounted it. His wish to miss 
 Gregor had been no figure of speech. The thought 
 of opening relations so quickly in that quarter did 
 not suit the plans he had formed of keeping as 
 clear of the Petrows as circumstances permitted. If 
 already on the morrow of his arrival he was to meet 
 Gregor, he knew that the detestation which the sight 
 of that fair, boyish face awoke within him would 
 have too much time to grow big before the end of 
 the vacation. 
 
 At this hour and under this beating sun the road 
 was almost deserted. The dust-powdered leaves on
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 209 
 
 the trees which stood on either side hung so still 
 that they might have been made of cast-iron. The 
 short grass in the ditches almost disappeared under 
 the layers of dust that smothered it. The cattle in 
 the fields were lying down, and the small boys and 
 girls who herded them were mostly fast asleep under 
 linen umbrellas. 
 
 It was unfortunate, certainly, that the road to 
 Martin Chrobak led close enough past the village of 
 Rubience to let Hypolit catch a glimpse of the roof 
 of the Petrows' dwelling, which distinguished itself 
 by being the only tin roof among a mass of wooden 
 ones ; but this was a sight which he would have to 
 grow used to during the next few months. As, 
 despite the blinding light, he strained his eyes in that 
 direction, asking himself angrily what the dwellers 
 under that roof might be doing at that moment, he 
 failed to notice the cloud of dust rolling towards 
 him, from which there first emerged a horse's head 
 and then a vehicle not unsimilar to his own. It was 
 not until he heard himself sharply apostrophised by 
 name that he turned to see Gregor Petrow, only a 
 few yards distant, sharply pulling up the horse which 
 he had been urging on in a contrary direction. 
 Though not given to looking stupid, Hypolit looked 
 rather stupid now. He had not foreseen this danger, 
 never having supposed that Gregor would start so 
 early, in the very heat of the afternoon. For a 
 moment he thought of driving straight on, unheedful 
 of the interruption, but something in Gregor's face 
 made him give up the idea. Even his first glance 
 O
 
 210 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 had showed him an expression there which required 
 explanation, and his ever lively curiosity meant to 
 have that explanation. 
 
 ' Good-afternoon,' he said quite agreeably, pulling 
 up his horse while they were still abreast. ' A hot 
 afternoon for driving, isn't it ? Funny that we should 
 both hit upon it ! ' 
 
 ' You were coming to see me ? ' asked Gregor, 
 leaning eagerly over the side of the cart. 
 
 Hypolit looked him over quickly, and then his eyes 
 turned towards that roof in the distance. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, with a deliberation which would 
 have surprised himself had he been given to sur- 
 prises, ' I was coming to see you. We are close to 
 the turn, are we not ? ' 
 
 ' And I was on my way to you. Yes, that is the 
 turn. I suppose' Gregor looked backwards and 
 hesitated ' that we are much nearer to Rubience 
 than to Lussyatyn ? ' 
 
 The opportunity of speaking to Hypolit had come 
 at last, that was clear ; but rather than his own 
 house he would have chosen any place for the inter- 
 view, and yet there was no help for it. 
 
 ' We shall be glad to welcome you/ he said a little 
 stiffly, as he turned his horse's head.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE drive that remained was but a short one, 
 and, owing to the necessity of keeping single 
 file on the narrow track that led to the village, no 
 consecutive conversation could be kept up, of which 
 Gregor was secretly glad. Now that the moment 
 for which he had been waiting for two and a half 
 months had come, he felt suddenly overwhelmed 
 by the difficulties of putting that question which 
 yet would have to be put. 
 
 If the road had seemed to be asleep, so did the 
 village. Most likely the grown-up inhabitants were 
 anything but asleep, but out in the fields hoeing 
 their maize ; but the effect to the passer-by was the 
 same. Behind the high screens of their wattled 
 palings the huts stood like houses of the dead, with 
 no face either at door or window, without the bark 
 of a dog or the laugh of a child, and with only here 
 and there the dimly seen tail of a cow whisking in 
 the darkness of an open byre-door. The pigs, the 
 natural scavengers of the lanes, lay stretched in the 
 shadow of the palings, too lazy to grunt, and even 
 the sunflowers that nodded over the wattled tops 
 seemed to be taking their afternoon siesta. 
 
 211
 
 212 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 It was in one of these narrow lanes that Gregor's 
 dwelling stood, also behind a paling, but of freshly 
 painted white wood. The white curtains were drawn 
 down over the small square windows, and nothing 
 moved on the tiny verandah, round whose wooden 
 pillars the vine had scarcely begun to grow, and 
 which was now flooded with the merciless sunshine. 
 Only a yellow cat lay upon one of the steps, stretched 
 out to a seemingly unnatural length. 
 
 ' I declare it 's like a fairy-tale,' said Hypolit, as 
 he laughingly alighted. ' Everything seems asleep 
 except the flies.' 
 
 The rooms inside were empty, and comparatively 
 cool. 
 
 'Shall we sit down here?' asked Gregor nervously, 
 feeling the approach of the moment he dreaded and 
 longed for. 
 
 Hypolit looked out through the door, which stood 
 open, on to the long strip of garden at the back. 
 
 ' I think I ought to pay my respects to your wife 
 first.' 
 
 ' She is in her room, I think, resting,' said Gregor 
 quickly. 
 
 ' Ah ! Then let us go out. It looks nice under 
 that nut-tree.' 
 
 The nut-tree was the one remarkable thing 
 belonging to the clerical dwelling, about which 
 everything else was painfully new and painfully 
 commonplace. The house, which had been built 
 barely a year ago, still smelt of rnortar and paint; the 
 half-dozen shrubs, planted anyhow in front of the
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 213 
 
 windows, had scarcely had time to take root ; the 
 long, narrow kitchen-garden at the back, pressed 
 thin between two walls of wattled paling, was barely 
 emerging from its former condition, which had been 
 that of a maize-patch ; everything was still uncertain 
 and unformed ; the nut-tree alone, soaring far above 
 the low roof, and stretching gnarled giant arms far 
 around it far too far for the wellbeing of the 
 cabbages and beetroots was absolutely sure of its 
 position in life. It even seemed that if the nut- 
 tree had not been there the house would not have 
 been there either that it had been chiefly for the 
 sake of including it in the garden that this particular 
 spot had been selected for its site. Under its myriads 
 of glossy leaves it was good to sit as in a tent, inhal- 
 ing their pungent odour, and resting tired eyes upon 
 their cool green. A couple of garden chairs always 
 stood there ; but so low did the sides of the tent fall, 
 that it was not until the two men reached the spot, 
 that one of the chairs was seen to be occupied. 
 Zenobia, in a loosely flowing, cream-coloured gown, 
 whose stately folds veiled her figure, her head thrown 
 back against the crimson cushion which she had 
 pushed under her neck, slept there, with the green 
 light from the nut-leaves playing upon her forehead. 
 
 Hypolit and Gregor stood still abruptly. 
 
 'The sleeping princess!' whispered Hypolit, smil- 
 ing more brilliantly, and perhaps a little more 
 nervously, than usual. ' I told you it was a fairy- 
 tale/ 
 
 ' I thought she was in her room,' said Gregor,
 
 2i 4 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 frowning, and at that moment Zenobia moved her 
 head. Her eyes, still full of sleep, went from 
 Gregor to Hypolit, then back again to Gregor. 
 
 ' I thought you were gone to Lussyatyn,' she said, 
 colouring faintly as she sat up. Something touched 
 her hand as she spoke, she lifted it towards her head, 
 but too late to arrest the uncoiling of her magnifi- 
 cent hair, which now fell heavily over her shoulder 
 and in a coal-black flood across her breast. With a 
 more vivid colour in her face, aware of Hypolit's 
 eyes upon her, she attempted to fasten it up, but 
 the mass was too heavy and too slippery ; pushing 
 it back impatiently, she slowly stood up. 
 
 ' I must put myself in order,' she said, smiling in 
 momentary embarrassment. ' And I shall bring you 
 something to drink, something cooling after your 
 hot drive. Do you like raspberry or currant juice 
 best, Pan Jarewicz ? ' 
 
 ' Currant,' said Hypolit, as he stood aside to let 
 her pass. As she moved down the straight path 
 her black hair hung about her like a mantle ; and 
 Hypolit, who had never seen her hair down to its 
 full length, though often tormented by the desire to 
 do so, stood without moving and without turning 
 his head, until he heard Gregor's voice saying beside 
 him 
 
 ' It is impossible!' 
 
 Turning sharply round he saw that Gregor had 
 sunk into the second chair, and sat there with burn- 
 ing eyes raised to his face. 
 
 'What is impossible?'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 215 
 
 ' What you told me in spring. It is a wretched 
 calumny. Could a woman who has done the thing 
 they accuse her of have enough peace of mind to 
 care whether a visitor prefers raspberry to currant 
 juice?' 
 
 Hypolit passed the flat of his hand across his eyes, 
 and mechanically sat down on the chair beside him, 
 the one which Zenobia had just left. On the crimson 
 cushion, which was slung over the back, he could 
 still feel the warmth of the head which had reposed 
 there. Though Gregor's tone had been pressing to 
 the point of urgency, he did not speak at once. The 
 very urgency had been to him a revelation. In that 
 one moment in which he had laid his hand across 
 his eyes he had seemed to catch a lightning-like 
 view of the situation : of the husband's ignorance ; 
 of his suspicions, which might be either confirmed 
 or not ; of the many startling possibilities that were 
 here entailed and all this mixed with the vision of 
 the wife's hair, that dense black hair which held his 
 fancy as though with ropes. It was what there was 
 of honest in him which kept him silent for so long ; 
 but with the vision of that hair there came an 
 impulse which he recognised as wicked, and yet 
 welcomed as the solution of his momentary doubt. 
 
 ' Then you were not acting in spring?' he observed 
 at last, with the customary smile come back to his 
 face, and with almost the customary lightness of 
 tone. ' I thought I had never seen a man feign 
 surprise so well.' 
 
 ' Acting ! No, I cannot act. Hypolit, you don't
 
 216 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 know what you did to me that day, nor what I have 
 suffered since. The only way you can make it good 
 is to speak plainly now. In common mercy be 
 honest, and tell me what grounds there exist for 
 suspecting my unhappy wife what grounds beyond 
 the vulgar surmises of the crowd.' 
 
 4 Don't ask me ! ' said Hypolit, darkening for an 
 instant, and fighting what would probably be his 
 last battle. ' Don't expect honesty from me \ I am 
 not an unprejudiced witness. Have you forgotten 
 that I meant to marry your wife myself? How do 
 you know that I might not be speaking out of mere 
 spite and jealousy ? ' 
 
 ' I don't care what makes you speak, I only ask 
 you to speak ; I only want to see the facts of the 
 case plainly. I don't know whether you care for 
 Zenia still ; but even if you do, I am not afraid of 
 you, because I know oh, I know it only too well ! 
 that she loves me, and not you.' 
 
 Stretching out a nervous hand, Hypolit tore off a 
 piece of nut-leaf beside him, and held it crushed 
 together before his widening nostrils, drinking in 
 the pungent odour with a fierce and almost furious 
 delight. 
 
 ' Well, if ever a man had a proof of affection given 
 him, you are that fortunate individual,' he drawled 
 with elaborate affectation, his small eyes squeezed 
 almost out of sight. 
 
 ' So you assume, or pretend to assume, I don't 
 know which. I suppose you hate me, Hypolit ; but 
 even if you hate me, you might give me the plain
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 217 
 
 answer, which is all I ask for. Once for all, are you 
 playing with me or not? Is your belief an honest 
 one, or has it been invented in order to torture me ? ' 
 
 'You insist upon my answering truly?' 
 
 ' I insist, I implore ! ' 
 
 ' Well then,' and sitting up straight in his chair, 
 Hypolit gave Gregor the first entirely square look 
 he had given him that day, his own lips growing a 
 little white under his thin moustache as he spoke, 
 ' it is my honest belief that Wasylya died by poison. 
 Indeed, the facts of the case seem so plain that I 
 find it difficult to believe in the complete ignorance 
 you affect.' 
 
 For a moment longer Gregor remained in his 
 attitude of eager listener, his body bent forward, his 
 haggard eyes jealously reading Hypolit's expression, 
 then slowly his face sank into his hands. It was 
 upon these hands that Hypolit's gaze remained fixed 
 during the pause that followed, jealously and in- 
 tently fixed. How he hated them, those white, 
 womanishly delicate hands, that were his rival's only 
 real beauty, and which probably were more guilty 
 of his own defeat than even the clear blue eyes. 
 
 ' But what proofs are there ? ' Gregor began, speak- 
 ing very quickly after that pause. ' People often die 
 suddenly ; and if this were really believed, why should 
 there have been no public accusation, no inquiry ? 
 And where could she have got the poison from ? 
 And how could there have been no traces ? ' All 
 the questions, which for two months past had been 
 pursuing him, now poured pell-mell from his lips.
 
 218 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Hypolit, quite cool now, answered each one 
 quietly and clearly, without any more sign of either 
 hesitation or excitement, and with an obvious 
 sincerity which was more deadly to hope than could 
 have been the most pointed insinuations. 
 
 'Proofs? I did not speak of proofs, but of sur- 
 mises, which to any one but a student of medicine 
 will probably remain surmises, though for me they 
 are conclusive. Why was there no inquiry ? That, 
 surely, is obvious enough. In another family there 
 would have been an inquiry, but Father Nikodem is 
 too much respected by people in general, and by old 
 Doctor Robowski in particular, to let a scandal grow 
 beyond the unavoidable whisperings in the ear.' 
 
 'You mean that he gave a false certificate ?' 
 
 ' He has not told me so indeed he denied it when 
 I taxed him with it to his face, but in a manner which 
 could leave no doubt in my mind.' 
 
 ' And now he is gone from this district,' said 
 Gregor reflectively. ' But the poison ? Where could 
 she have got the poison from ? ' 
 
 ' From Ursula Adamicz, who has once before been 
 punished for selling arsenic indiscriminately.' 
 
 'Who is Ursula Adamicz?' 
 
 ' An old woman who aims at the reputation of a 
 witch, and has succeeded so well as to have made 
 acquaintance with the police.' 
 
 ' I never heard of her before ; I don't believe Zenia 
 even knows her.' 
 
 ' It is almost certain that she visited her about a 
 week before her sister's death. She was seen on the
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 219 
 
 road to Ursula's hut one rainy evening in October. 
 Perhaps you remember her coming to supper late 
 one night, and with her hair wet ? ' 
 
 Gregor remembered that evening. At the time 
 he had not even been aware of paying any especial 
 attention to the incident, but now, with a swift pang, 
 there came back to his recollection even the rain- 
 drops that had glistened on her hair, and the tone 
 of obvious embarrassment in which she had answered 
 her mother's questions. Getting up from his chair 
 he made one step towards the trunk of the nut-tree, 
 and stood leaning there with fast-beating heart. He 
 had felt it necessary to make a movement of some 
 sort. The network of proof seemed to be joining its 
 meshes around him, and the mere fact of sitting still 
 increased the dreadful sense of helplessness. He 
 took out his handkerchief and passed it across his 
 forehead ; there was a dampness there which had 
 nothing to do with the abnormal heat of the day, 
 which was not hot, but lay coldly clammy about 
 his temples. Suddenly he heard Hypolit's dry laugh 
 beside him. 
 
 ' Really, Gregor, allow me to use the privilege of 
 an old acquaintance to say that you are the greatest 
 simpleton I have the pleasure of knowing. Are you 
 aware that you have grown as white as that butter- 
 fly on the cabbage-leaf?' 
 
 ' Then you are making fun of me ? ' 
 
 'Indeed I am not; but I am observing you 
 with the greatest interest, and, let me say so, the 
 sincerest pity. Do you know what you are for me
 
 220 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 at this moment ? Not Gregor Petrow at all, but the 
 embodiment of the old theories which we are making 
 ready to throw overboard.' 
 
 'We?' 
 
 ' Yes ; Fredrich Nietsche, and those who follow 
 the new light. Every man for himself, and away 
 with the weakling Pity, which has only been invented 
 to be pushed into the place of Force, by men who 
 had no force. No obligation towards anything or 
 anybody, except, of course, towards the police 
 authorities, so long as rotten institutions continue 
 to exist. No obligation ? What do I say ? Rather 
 the obligation to tread down everything and every- 
 body that stands in your way. It is only by every 
 man doing the best he can for himself, physically 
 and intellectually, that he can become a true bene- 
 factor of his race. These are the new truths, my 
 friend ; those which in a few years will have upset 
 the old world.' 
 
 With wide-open, blue eyes, Gregor, still leaning 
 against the tree, listened speechless ; and as in all 
 moments of consternation, his reddish fair hair 
 seemed to be standing almost upright above his 
 forehead. 
 
 ' I don't understand what you mean by new truths,' 
 he said at last simply. ' Truth cannot be new ; I 
 only know of one truth, and that is older than the 
 world.' 
 
 But Hypolit had got too deep into his subject to 
 heed him. 
 
 ' And just look at the disadvantages of your point
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 221 
 
 of view ! ' he pursued, with eyes which now sparkled 
 with eagerness. ' There is a man ready to faint with 
 horror because I tell him that his wife loves him well 
 enough to commit what your school calls a crime, but 
 what my school calls the one obvious thing she had 
 to do, so long as she felt that she could not live 
 without you, always supposing that she had a 
 reasonable chance of escaping the arm of what has 
 idiotically been dubbed justice. Yes, I pity you, 
 Gregor, I pity you ; you are suffering from the 
 disease called " morality," which our Master desig- 
 nated as the most fatal kind of ignorance. Put me 
 in your place, and catch me cankering my mind by 
 scruples ! Catch me doing anything but drinking 
 full-throated from the cup of enjoyment offered 
 me!' 
 
 ' These words are not for me,' said Gregor, in deep 
 perplexity. ' I understand them only enough to 
 understand that they are blasphemous. Let us not 
 begin these discussions it is certain that we can 
 never agree ; but tell me only what I want to hear, 
 and leave me to bear it in my own way.' 
 
 ' But what do you want to hear exactly ? ' 
 
 ' One thing or the other ; that she is innocent, or 
 that she is guilty. Certainty, I can bear certainty 
 of any sort; it is doubt that is killing me. Help me 
 to find that certainty.' 
 
 ' And when you have found it ? ' 
 
 ' I shall push her from me ; I shall denounce her ! ' 
 cried Gregor, with suddenly flaming eyes. 
 
 ' Then you should denounce yourself with her ;
 
 222 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 since you were the primary cause of what it pleases 
 you to call a crime.' 
 
 With a groan Gregor turned his face towards the 
 rough tree-trunk. This was a truth which had 
 formed part of his torture of the last weeks. 
 
 ' That is true ; I am more guilty than she is ; no, 
 I cannot denounce her ; perhaps I cannot even send 
 her from my house ; but she shall become a stranger 
 to me, if she has done it. But it may yet be that 
 she has not done it. Ah, my God, how get away from 
 that doubt ? Hypolit, help me to know not to guess, 
 but to know ! ' 
 
 Hypolit's eyes were upon the path, at the end of 
 which Zenobia had just become visible, with a tray 
 of glasses carefully balanced in her hands. 
 
 ' I will help you,' he said, without looking at 
 Gregor.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IF on that hot July afternoon when he had called 
 out aloud for the deliverance of certainty, any 
 one had told Gregor that at the end of two months he 
 would not yet have attained that certainty, and yet 
 would neither have lost his reason nor his life, he 
 would have denied the possibility ; but so it was. 
 As in July he had eaten and slept, and risen and 
 lain down, automatically fulfilling his duties the 
 while, without knowing whether the woman at his 
 side were a criminal or a martyr to calumny, so it 
 was in September. Hypolit had not broken his 
 promise, but apparently it lay beyond his power to 
 keep it to the letter. The grounds for suspicion, 
 indeed, were accumulating brought to him one by 
 one by the medical student. From the servant-girl 
 Hania he had found out that Zenobia undoubtedly 
 knew not only Ursula Adamicz's address, but also 
 that she sold poison. It was Hania herself who had 
 given her the information one evening in the orchard, 
 as she distinctly remembered. 
 
 ' Then the simplest thing would be to ask Ursula 
 Adamicz herself,' Gregor had suggested, on hearing 
 
 223
 
 this. ' There might be ways of inducing her to say 
 whether she sold arsenic to Zenia or not.' 
 
 ' If she were in the country there might be ways, 
 but she left the country immediately after Wasylya's 
 death.' 
 
 Gregor groaned aloud ; a new proof this ! 
 
 ' The girl is a goose, of course,' added Hypolit, 
 ' but she is quite positive about her conversation 
 with Zenobia. She told me that she had burned six 
 candles in church since Wasylya's death, in order 
 to atone for her own responsibility in the matter. 
 She thinks that if she had not mentioned the poison 
 Zenobia might not have had the idea. And I had 
 to swear not to betray her ; she is evidently haunted 
 by the terror of being beaten to death by the Popadia 
 if it comes out that she has had any dealings with 
 Ursula Adamicz.' 
 
 In the course of these two months Gregor had 
 the opportunity of convincing himself that the 
 narrow-minded mother was the only member of the 
 family who even pretended to believe in Zenobia's 
 innocence. This was on an occasion when the 
 Popadia, with her youngest daughter, had come 
 over to spend the day at Rubience. In Paraska's 
 eyes Gregor immediately noticed that same look of 
 terrified curiosity that he had seen so plainly in the 
 streets of Lussyatyn, only that here it was mingled 
 with a certain sense of personal importance, for, 
 after all, it is not everybody who has a sister accused 
 of so imposing a crime. But the most painful 
 moment to Gregor was when, refreshments having
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 225 
 
 been brought out under the nut-tree, the girl hastily, 
 and in evident embarrassment, declined the glass 
 of raspberry juice prepared by Zenobia. 
 
 ' Why did you not drink the juice ? ' he asked, with 
 unwonted sharpness, the first moment that he found 
 himself alone with her. 
 
 ' I don't like it no, I mean it reminds me too 
 much,' stammered Paraska, turning scarlet. 
 
 'Of what?' 
 
 ' Of of the way Wasia died. You know/ she 
 whispered, raising her awe-stricken eyes to his face, 
 ' they say she did it with raspberry juice.' 
 
 Gregor almost glared at the girl, as he flung away 
 from her side. So this child, too, found it possible to 
 believe ! And he remembered the glass quite well 
 which Zenobia had brought into the room on the 
 eve of the catastrophe. Had that been the deadly 
 potion ? no wonder, then, that her hand had trembled 
 so as she handed it to her sister ; or had it been in 
 that other glass which he had seen standing empty 
 by the bedside on the morning of the catastrophe, 
 and whose image, with the sticky rim and the flies 
 crawling in and out of it, had been photographed 
 on his memory with all the intensity that belongs to 
 moments of strong emotion? 
 
 Yes, the proofs were standing thick by this time, 
 and all on one side, while on the other there remained 
 nothing, absolutely nothing but the difficulty of belief 
 engendered by the sheer horror of the thing. Yet 
 with all the horror there was one side of Gregor's 
 consciousness that was not only prepared, that 
 p
 
 226 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 wanted to be convinced of Zenobia's guilt, and this 
 in order to be able to wreak its own pain on some- 
 body the pain which had never left him since his 
 visit to the churchyard ; while the other, healthier, 
 more natural side, yearned for deliverance from these 
 wearing emotions, and towards the final recovery of 
 his whole plan of life. But it was the morbid side 
 which held the upper hand. The dead Wasylya, 
 who had seemed to follow him out of the churchyard 
 gate, now stood for ever between his wife and him- 
 self; and in her phantom presence the personal 
 aversion, born of suspicion, grew large. Together 
 with the sullen reserve of Zenobia's attitude, it made 
 the hope of a frank understanding between husband 
 and wife more hopeless day by day, as Hypolit, 
 who imperceptibly had become a frequent visitor, 
 carefully marked. The part Hypolit had had to 
 play so far had come to him easily enough : there 
 had in reality been little else to do but to answer 
 Gregor's questions ; nor any need to do more, since 
 Gregor's peasant mistrustfulness, once set agoing, 
 worked on by itself, boring and boring for proofs, 
 and having grown so enamoured of the hole it was 
 boring as to put its eyes and its whole soul into it, 
 and to forget to look up and around it, wrapped up 
 in one idea, as is the way with natures that are both 
 narrow and deep. 
 
 The summer having passed without outward 
 events, the autumn brought a blow, the news of 
 Father Nikodem's death, sudden, yet not quite 
 unexpected, for his health had obviously been failing
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 227 
 
 since spring. It was in the village street that Gregor 
 met the messenger from Hlobaki, and remained for 
 a while rooted to the spot with the open letter in 
 his hand. 
 
 ' It is her guilt that has killed him,' he said to 
 himself when the first consternation was passed. 
 ' He has died of his suspicions no, of his convic- 
 tions ; they must have been convictions to kill him 
 so quickly.' 
 
 And in a sudden paroxysm of reproachful indigna- 
 tion, he almost ran back to the house, and searched 
 breathlessly for Zenobia, until he found her under 
 the nut-tree, whose breadth almost blocked the 
 narrow garden, with a large basket beside her, 
 collecting the nuts which a high wind had shaken 
 down in the night. Bursting from their green husks, 
 they scattered the earth, with here and there a 
 yellowing leaf among them. 
 
 Gregor's first impulse, one of almost brutal 
 spite, had been to say : ' Your father is dead ' ; 
 but at sight of her, and at the remembrance of 
 her state of health, he controlled himself sufficiently 
 to remark. 
 
 ' There is bad news from Hlobaki.' 
 
 She straightened herself out of her stooping posture 
 to ask quickly 
 
 1 My father ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, your father.' 
 
 ' Not dead ? ' she asked, her eyes growing large 
 with apprehension. 
 
 Gregor nodded. He knew that if he spoke at
 
 228 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 once the feeling of spite, which was his chief sensa- 
 tion at the moment, would appear too plainly. 
 
 Zenobia sat down quickly on the chair beside her, 
 covering her face with her hands. 
 
 ' That it should have come so quickly ! ' she said, 
 in a stifled voice. 
 
 ' Grief kills quickly, and he has been unhappy 
 since last autumn.' 
 
 She remained for a moment longer quite still, then 
 her hands dropped. 
 
 ' You are cruel, Gregor,' she said, in deep agitation. 
 ' God is not so cruel as you. If I have been wicked, 
 I have suffered for it.' 
 
 She had risen as she spoke, and, with the last 
 word, stretched out her hand almost timidly to lay 
 it upon his arm ; but it did not touch it, for Gregor 
 had stepped back, gazing at her with horror-stricken 
 eyes. Was that not a confession which he had heard 
 from her lips ? And this woman wanted to touch him ! 
 
 ' Leave me leave me ! ' he said incoherently, as 
 he turned away and began walking rapidly towards 
 the house. Within the first dozen paces he brushed 
 against something, and only with difficulty, in such 
 tumult had his thoughts been thrown, recognised 
 Hypolit Jarewicz. He murmured some excuse and 
 passed him quickly, having only vaguely wondered 
 why Hypolit was looking so yellow, and why he 
 threw aside his cigarette with so vehement a gesture. 
 
 Zenobia was still standing under the nut-tree, 
 beside the basket half filled with nuts, when Hypolit 
 reached her, and she was still obviously struggling
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 229 
 
 for composure. At a glance Hypolit saw the oppor- 
 tunity which for two months he had waited for. 
 He had not always felt quite certain that when the 
 opportunity came he would avail himself of it. It 
 is one thing to proclaim Nietsche's principles, and 
 quite another thing to act up to them in real life ; 
 and loudly though he might cry to himself with 
 Zarathustra to ' Become hard ! become hard ! ' and 
 to throw all feeling of moral obligation to the winds, 
 there yet were moments when he would feel himself 
 clogged by the traditions of that old morality in 
 which he had been brought up, entangled, as it were, 
 in that worn-out garment so supremely scorned, but 
 which still hung together sufficiently to seriously 
 hamper his movements. Enthusiastically though he 
 approved the Master's preaching, it required the 
 impetus of passion to carry him quite up to its 
 height. 
 
 To-day the impetus was there ; neither doubt nor 
 scruple disturbed his mind as he stood before Zenobia, 
 with twitching mouth and burning eyes. 
 
 ' Don't,' he said, in a voice that was uneven with 
 excitement. ' Don't do what you are going to do ! 
 Don't try and put on your everyday face ; don't tell 
 me that nothing has happened I wouldn't believe 
 you. I did not hear what he said to you, but I saw 
 his gesture that was enough. Zenia, Zenia, is it 
 possible that you should still love this man who 
 pushes you from him ? who has no understanding 
 for you ? who prefers the laws of a stupid morality to 
 such a love as you are able to give?'
 
 2 3 o THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Zenobia had instinctively moved a little away, 
 gathering about her the grey shawl which hung upon 
 her shoulders. Her great black eyes, still open to 
 their fullest, were fixed upon Hypolit's face in a 
 mixture of astonishment and perplexity. 
 
 ' I don't understand,' she said, still obviously 
 agitated. 
 
 ' Is it possible that you fail to see that your husband 
 is turning from you ? He will never forgive you for 
 the past, never, Zenia, never ! To him you are a 
 criminal, a sinner, while to me you are a heroine ! ' 
 
 He would have moved nearer to her, but something 
 in her eyes stopped him. 
 
 ' Now I understand,' she said, while the agitation 
 on her face sank suddenly into a cold, an awful 
 severity, just as the heavy eyelids sank down to half 
 conceal the eyes. ' You are making love to me ; is 
 that not it ? ' 
 
 ' You know that I have always loved you, Zenia,' 
 murmured Hypolit, half choked ; before the coldness 
 on her face, even his supreme audacity stood aghast. 
 
 'And you f dare to tell me this to-day, to-day -? 
 My father died yesterday, my child may be born 
 to-morrow, and this is the moment you choose for 
 talking to me of sinful passion ? Oh, go away ! Go ! 
 But no, stop a minute longer until I explain. You 
 must not think that if you come back another day 
 my answer will be different. Whatever day you choose 
 it would always be the same, and it is, that I never 
 loved any man but my husband, and could never 
 love any other. I would rather be his servant than
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 231 
 
 another man's cherished mistress ; I would sooner 
 hear hard words from his mouth than soft ones from 
 yours, or any other man's ! ' 
 
 ' But he does not love you, and I do!' cried Hypolit, 
 in a voice which rang with real despair. 
 
 4 1 did not say that he loved me, only that I loved 
 him. As for you, you have never been anything to 
 me but an acquaintance, a former playmate ; but 
 you shall not be even that from to-day. I do not 
 want to see you ever again ever ! Go away, I tell 
 you, and do not come back again ! ' 
 
 Hypolit, white to the lips with the rage of humilia- 
 tion, raised his head. He thought he was going to 
 retort, passionately, vehemently ; but before he had 
 brought out a word, something made him look to- 
 wards the paling, and there, peering over the top, 
 with puffed-out cheeks, and eyes round with astonish- 
 ment, was a chubby child's face a witness too young 
 to be inconvenient, and yet sufficient to remind 
 Hypolit that this was scarcely the place, sandwiched 
 as they were between two gardens, to make love to 
 one's neighbour's wife. Without another word he 
 turned and went, furious with himself for obeying, 
 and yet intimately convinced that there was nothing 
 else to be done, for by the helpless twitching of the 
 muscles of his cheek he knew that he had lost control, 
 not only over his thoughts but also over his nerves. 
 There could be no object in exposing this pitiable 
 spectacle any longer, either to Zenobia or to that 
 inquisitive brat over there ; it was best to retreat 
 before the moral rout became too apparent, and he
 
 232 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 therefore went, leaving Zenobia alone under the nut- 
 tree in the midst of the devastated garden, in which 
 the cabbages had already been cut from their stalks, 
 and where the paths had been strewn with fading 
 nut-leaves by last night's storm.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 WHEN, two days later, Gregor, returning from 
 his father-in-law's funeral, alighted at his 
 own door, he was met by an elderly woman, whose 
 face he did not recognise. 
 
 ' The Lord God has been merciful/ this stranger 
 said to him, with an unmistakable air of personal 
 importance ; ' she is doing well.' 
 
 ' Who is doing well ? ' asked Gregor, extricating 
 himself with difficulty from the lugubrious train of 
 thought into which he had fallen during his drive. 
 
 'Your wife, Father Gregor. It is- my good fortune 
 to announce to you that you have a son, a little 
 before the time, it is true. No doubt it was the bad 
 news that did it ; but, with God's help, all is going 
 as it should.' 
 
 Gregor looked at her with vacant eyes, into which 
 gradually there came first understanding and then 
 something like excitement. 
 
 'I have a son?' he repeated, with as blank an 
 astonishment as though the idea of such a possibility 
 were not more than a minute old. 
 
 ' And as fine a one as ever rejoiced father's heart. 
 Come and see him, Father Gregor ; why are you still 
 
 233
 
 234 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 sitting there? The Pani has been waiting for you 
 this last hour.' 
 
 Leaving the reins on the horse's back, Gregor 
 descended precipitately from the vehicle, and, with- 
 out another question, followed his petticoated guide. 
 Without her guidance it is even possible that he 
 would not have found his way to the bedroom, for 
 his gait was that of a man who has received a blow 
 on the head. 
 
 In the room, flooded with autumn sunshine, Ze- 
 nobia lay, her eyes fixed impatiently on the door ; 
 and beside her lay something carefully sheltered 
 from the sunshine by a muslin curtain, which was 
 flung over it. Gregor walked close up to the bed 
 without seeing anything but that muslin curtain, 
 without even properly seeing Zenobia, until he felt 
 fingers closing over his hand. 
 
 ' Gregor oh, I am so happy he is just like you ! ' 
 she said, in a voice which he had never heard before. 
 
 Then he also saw her face as he had never seen 
 it radiant, with a mildness about the mouth, a 
 subdued, yet penetrating light in the eyes which 
 wonderfully transformed it. She had never appeared 
 to him so young as at this moment, and for the first 
 time it occurred to him that perhaps after all she 
 was beautiful. 
 
 'You must not touch him, he is asleep. Don't 
 bend too low, your breath might awake him.' 
 
 As she cautiously lifted a corner of the muslin 
 cover, Gregor with difficulty restrained an exclama- 
 tion which was not one of admiration. Instead of
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 235 
 
 rapture his first sensation was far more like con- 
 sternation. Exactly like him ? How little we know 
 ourselves, to be sure ! Never would he have supposed 
 that any likeness could exist between his own 
 countenance and this small, deep-red face, of which 
 it seemed so much more probable that it was made 
 of india-rubber than of human flesh and blood, like 
 one of those toy faces that children love to squeeze 
 into innumerable wrinkles. But while he stared at 
 it stupidly, the tiny eyelids opened and he met his 
 own clear blue eyes, unmistakably his, only in a 
 miniature edition, staring back into his face with an 
 astonishment obviously as great as his own. 
 
 ' Oh, he is awake ; now you can see what he really 
 is like/ and Zenobia shifted her position. ' What do 
 you say to him, Gregor ? ' 
 
 Gregor said nothing. A series of sensations that 
 were quite new, and consequently not recognisable, 
 were chasing each other through his soul. Back 
 through many years, back to the days when he used 
 to sit alone in his mud-paved room, listening to the 
 cries of the peasant children outside, and wondering 
 whether he would ever attain a domesticity of his 
 own, that little red face on the pillow had carried 
 him, and if he did not speak now, it was principally 
 because he was not sure of what might happen to his 
 voice. 
 
 'Are you happy, Gregor?' he heard Zenobia ask- 
 ing, right through the memory-trance into which he 
 had fallen. Just then the door closed behind the 
 woman, who had gone out to fetch water, and at the
 
 236 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 same moment Zenobia put out her hand again and 
 pulled him down beside her. 
 
 ' Gregor,' she said, in a voice that trembled through 
 and through ; ' there must be no more cloud between 
 us ! We have this to hold us together now, and 
 nothing else must come between. I know what you 
 believe of me, but it is not true. I did not do it ; 
 things look bad against me, but I did not do it. Do 
 not believe what they say ! ' 
 
 Gregor had started upright at the first word. 
 
 ' Why did you not tell me this long ago ? ' he asked, 
 having struggled for breath for a moment. 
 
 ' I should have, but I was angry, too angry to 
 speak ; even as a child I used to be obstinate, but I 
 have been punished enough. I did not mean to 
 speak unless you asked me, but now I am too happy 
 to be silent. I am innocent, Gregor ; you believe 
 me, do you not ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, I believe you ! ' said Gregor, as, sinking to 
 his knees, he hid his face in the coverlet. The joy 
 of the deliverance was so great as to be almost a 
 pain, and, pressed against the coverlet, he felt how 
 his face was growing wet and hot. The burden 
 which he had carried with him since that awful Palm 
 Sunday was taken from him at last, so quickly, so 
 easily and definitely, as, in this moment of nervous 
 exaltation, he did not doubt. The natural instincts 
 of the natural man within him had, with one leap, 
 taken the upper hand. That life of quiet domesticity, 
 which had once been his ideal, seemed again within 
 his reach. In one instant all the cankering doubts
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 237 
 
 seemed gone, withered away under the new radiancy 
 of Zenobia's eyes. What was it that had tormented 
 him for so long, and which yet a few words could 
 take from him ? 
 
 ' Oh, thank you for having spoken ! ' he whispered, 
 pressing his trembling lips upon Zenobia's hand. 
 ' But this is enough. We shall never speak of it 
 again never ! ' 
 
 ' Never, unless you want it ! ' said Zenobia, smiling 
 a little faintly, for to her, too, the last few minutes 
 had been mentally exhausting. 
 
 The two weeks which followed upon his return 
 from Father Nikodem's funeral were for Gregor a 
 time of almost perfect happiness, mixed perhaps 
 with a little too much mental excitement for every- 
 day life, and yet among the brightest weeks he 
 remembered. The natural man within him was 
 taking possession of his rights now, and if he did so 
 a little more precipitately, a little more feverishly 
 than would have been necessary, this was chiefly 
 attributable to the long time he had been kept 
 from them. Beside the wrinkled baby face even 
 Wasylya's features began to fade, while day by day 
 new graces were discovered in the baby's mother, by 
 an eye determined to discover them. Once again 
 he could stand at the altar without that black 
 spectre of suspicion by his side, and without feeling 
 that his share in the guilt made him unworthy to 
 stand there. ' The Pope's voice has grown clearer,' 
 the peasants said to each other after Sunday
 
 238 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Mass ; ' he sings everything now as though it were 
 a Hallelujah.' 
 
 Other people besides the peasants noticed the 
 change. Hypolit Jarewicz was not among the last 
 to do so. It was in the street of Lussyatyn that 
 they met for the first time since the day on which 
 they had brushed past each other in Gregor's 
 garden. 
 
 These two weeks, which had been to Gregor so 
 delicious, had been for Hypolit the worst two weeks 
 in the history of his quite illogical passion for 
 Zenobia. Although outwardly his family noticed 
 only that he was in a somewhat more biting humour 
 than usual, these fourteen days had, in fact, been one 
 long paroxysm of masked rage. To remember the 
 part he had played that day under the nut-tree was 
 to writhe in impotent fury. Why was it that this 
 woman, of all others, should possess the power of 
 so utterly overthrowing a self-control which knew 
 itself to be far above the average ? of making him 
 feel so pitiably small, and slight, and incompetent, 
 both physically and morally ? A sense of personal 
 humiliation had always been mixed up with his 
 passion ; and now, when he thought of the way he 
 had walked away at her command, 'positively like a 
 whipped dog,' he said to himself, and with that 
 open-mouthed child's face by the paling seeming to 
 add the last touch of ignominy to the situation, he 
 ground his teeth and clutched at his temples. He 
 knew for certain that he had done nothing to be 
 reasonably ashamed of, nothing that Friedrich
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 239 
 
 Nietsche could have disapproved of. What was it, 
 then, that made him feel so desperately small ? 
 
 And he had nothing to say for himself either ; 
 every word he had stammered might have been 
 brought out by the veriest schoolboy gasping in the 
 grip of his first calf-love. Oh for the means of 
 satisfying his mangled vanity ! of taking revenge 
 where it was due ! 
 
 It was with these thoughts in his mind that he 
 met Gregor in the street, and immediately noted the 
 new light on his face. 
 
 ' I am late in presenting my felicitations,' he 
 began, with elaborate politeness, his white teeth 
 gleaming under his thin moustache. 
 
 ' Yes, he is a fine child, at least that is what they 
 assure me, though personally I doubt whether I 
 should have discovered it myself ; and Gregor 
 laughed more heartily than was his wont. 
 
 ' It 's quite a change to see you in such good spirits,' 
 said Hypolit, jealously watching the other's face. 
 ' It seems to me that I have a second congratulation 
 to offer. I see that you have at last accepted those 
 principles of philosophy which I have so often 
 brought under your notice.' 
 
 ' How is that ? ' 
 
 ' Why, it is only that I take to myself part of the 
 credit of your present most reasonable frame of 
 mind. Have I not told you all along that it was 
 foolish to let your life be spoiled by a mere idea 
 and an exploded one, too ? ' 
 
 ' I know what you mean now,' said Gregor gravely,
 
 2 4 o THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' but you are mistaken there. I was coming to tell 
 you so. We have been on a wrong track, Hypolit, 
 all along, she did not do it.' 
 
 ' On whose testimony do you say this ? ' 
 
 ' Upon her own ; she has given me the most 
 solemn assurance.' 
 
 Hypolit burst into his own peculiar, cackling 
 laugh. 
 
 ' O Gregor ! is your simplicity genuine, or is it 
 only put on ? You did not expect her to assure you 
 of her guilt, did you ? ' 
 
 ' But the way she did it, her eyes ! No, no, I 
 believe her ! ' 
 
 Hypolit went on laughing, under his breath now, 
 but in a way that began to get on Gregor's 
 nerves. 
 
 ' You mean to say that you can still doubt it, after 
 her solemn denial?' he asked impatiently. 'You 
 can still think that ' 
 
 Hypolit looked about him. ' I will tell you what 
 I think, but not here. We are close to our house : 
 come in with me, and we can talk.' 
 
 They were, in fact, at only about fifty paces from 
 the Jarewiczs' house. Hypolit led Gregor to the back 
 door, and from there down a passage into his own 
 private apartment, which was likewise a species of im- 
 provised laboratory, where even during the vacation 
 time the medical student eagerly pursued his studies. 
 A mixture of modern luxury and scientific rigour 
 marked the large and airy room, where a carved 
 bedstead, with a flaming orange satin cover, stood in
 
 one corner, and a complete skeleton unblushingly 
 occupied another, where French novels lay side by 
 side with ponderous volumes of science, where un- 
 canny-looking instruments flashed out of half-open 
 drawers, and still more uncanny-looking bottles, with 
 mysterious contents, stood ranged upon shelves 
 against the wall. 
 
 ' Sit down,' said Hypolit, taking off his hat, and 
 sticking it on to the head of the skeleton, where it 
 sat rakishly cocked on one side. 
 
 ' There is no need to sit down that I can see,' said 
 Gregor stiffly, standing still in the middle of the 
 apartment. ' You cannot have much to say to me, 
 and I have told you that my mind is made up on the 
 subject of my wife's innocence.' 
 
 Hypolit took a turn round the room, shutting a 
 drawer here and there, or pushing back a book into 
 its place. ' Can she have told him ? ' he asked him- 
 self, struck by this new primness. 
 
 ' If you are convinced of her innocence,' he said 
 aloud, after a moment, 'then you must feel that 
 you owe her no end of a reparation. I wager that 
 it is only now that your real honeymoon is be- 
 ginning ! ' 
 
 ' She has certainly never been to me what she is 
 now,' said Gregor simply. 
 
 Hypolit's foot at that moment knocked against 
 the elegantly inlaid bootjack, which was lying in the 
 middle of the floor. He kicked it almost savagely 
 under the bed as he replied 
 
 ' Then, since it seems that to-day is to be a day of 
 Q
 
 242 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 congratulations, all that remains to me is to con- 
 gratulate you on the perfection of your childlike 
 faith.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Gregor, with some heat. ' I 
 think that is all we can have to say to each other 
 to-day.' 
 
 He walked rapidly towards the door, but before 
 reaching it his step faltered. 
 
 ' This cannot satisfy me, Hypolit. It is not enough 
 that you should leave me my faith ; I want to hear 
 also that you share it. I cannot hope to convince 
 every one, of course ; but you, who have been so close 
 to the matter all summer, I cannot bear to think 
 that you should still believe this frightful thing of 
 Zenia.' 
 
 ' No, she has not told him,' passed through 
 Hypolit's mind, as in silence he continued his uneasy 
 perambulations. 
 
 ' Why do you say nothing ? ' asked Gregor, in a 
 tone in which the first note of agitation was to be 
 distinguished. 
 
 Hypolit faced round, with eyes from which rage 
 was striking sparks. 
 
 ' Because I cannot say what you want ; because 
 I cannot pretend to believe what I do not believe, 
 nor to disbelieve what I consider to be proved.' 
 
 ' You still hold her guilty ? ' asked Gregor, catch- 
 ing his breath. 
 
 ' My opinion is the same as it was before you 
 spoke to me to-day ; not having been formed upon 
 sentimental grounds, it cannot be altered by senti-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 243 
 
 mental considerations, nor by the fact that a wife, 
 seeing" that all that is required to gain her husband's 
 faith is protestation, should make that protestation. 
 The prize in view, domestic peace, was surely worth 
 putting one more load on one's conscience ; or do you 
 imagine that a woman who does not stop at killing 
 would stop at lying?' 
 
 With a spring forward Gregor reached Hypolit's 
 side, and took him roughly by the shoulder with 
 that wonderful white hand of his, which looked so 
 delicate, and which yet had retained some of the 
 peasant vigour of his forefathers. 
 
 ' It is you who are lying now ! You love my wife, 
 and therefore you would blacken her in my eyes. 
 You cannot no, you cannot believe the thing you 
 say !' 
 
 ' I have never denied that I loved your wife,' 
 sneered Hypolit, as with difficulty he extricated 
 himself from Gregor's grasp. Even the conscious- 
 ness of the superiority of the other's physical strength 
 which that grip had given him, and even the higher 
 level from which the priest's eyes had looked down 
 upon him, had been as fresh fuel to the consuming 
 rage within him. ' Was it not I myself who first 
 warned you against the value of my evidence ? Also 
 you are quite right to put me no further questions, 
 and to ask me for no further proofs.' 
 
 Gregor released him abruptly. 
 
 ' Proofs ! Proofs ! ' he cried, while something of 
 the old uncertain light flared up for a moment in his 
 eyes. ' There never have been any proofs : surmises,
 
 244 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 nothing but surmises ; it is with these that you have 
 poisoned my ears.' 
 
 ' Did you not want it so ? Did you not ask, 
 almost implore, my help ? ' 
 
 ' It was a proof I asked for, not these worthless 
 insinuations.' 
 
 ' And if I bring you that proof now ? ' 
 
 'A proof? A positive proof?' 
 
 The two men looked at each other, immovable for 
 a moment, then Gregor turned away. 
 
 ' It cannot be. Where there is no guilt there can 
 be no proof.' 
 
 ' But if I bring it you ? ' repeated Hypolit. 
 
 ' If it is an incontestable proof, then I will I 
 
 don't know yet ; but what are you thinking ? What 
 are you going to do ? ' 
 
 ' The proof shall be incontestable,' Hypolit said, 
 more quietly than he had yet spoken. ' The only 
 question is whether it is procurable. There are diffi- 
 culties, but there are also possibilities, especially if 
 the costs are not counted.' He was speaking now 
 in an almost businesslike tone. 
 
 ' I don't understand what you are going to do.' 
 
 ' Perhaps this day week you will understand, or 
 this day fortnight ; it may take longer than I cal- 
 culate, but if the thing is to be done, I shall do it. 
 I have to keep my promise, you know,' he added, 
 with the shadow of a smile ' the one I made on the 
 first day of the vacation ; nor have I much time 
 either, since the last day is already in sight.' 
 
 'Do your best or your worst,' said Gregor, as
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 245 
 
 with rather unnecessary jauntiness he walked again 
 to the door. On no account would he stay here 
 a minute longer, nor listen to any more of this 
 talk, which, although of course it could not shake 
 his newly recovered confidence, must yet have an 
 irritating effect upon his nerves. This, at least, was 
 the explanation he gave himself as he somewhat 
 precipitately made his way into the open air.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ' T F you will come to me this evening after seven, 
 -L I shall keep the promise I made to you last 
 time we met.' 
 
 This was the note which nearly three weeks later 
 Gregor received from Hypolit Jarewicz. During 
 these three weeks Hypolit had remained invisible, 
 nor had Gregor made any effort to penetrate the 
 secret of his present activity. What he would have 
 liked best would have been to forget that Hypolit 
 Jarewicz existed, and in particular to persuade him- 
 self that their last interview had been a mere 
 hallucination of his own excited fancy ; but in this, 
 despite much goodwill, he had not completely suc- 
 ceeded. 
 
 Now he stood in his room with the note of 
 summons in his hand, and looked down at it 
 irresolutely. 
 
 ' I shall not go,' he said to himself ; but when at 
 the same moment Zenobia entered unexpectedly, 
 he hid the paper away with a guilty feeling, 
 which, if he really meant not to go, was absolutely 
 superfluous. 
 
 And when evening came he went, after all, 
 
 246
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 247 
 
 principally, as he told himself, in order to show 
 Hypolit that he was not afraid to face whatever 
 new discovery he might imagine himself to have 
 made ; and having told Zenobia that he had pro- 
 mised to spend the early hours of the night beside 
 one of his sick parishioners. Why he should have 
 gone the length of telling a lie, instead of simply 
 acknowledging a visit to Hypolit, who must now be 
 on the eve of his return to Vienna, was not quite 
 clear to Gregor ; but the thing seemed to arrange 
 itself without any effort of will on his part. 
 
 The servant-girl had evidently received her orders, 
 for Gregor was conducted past the door of the 
 drawing-room and straight to Hypolit's end of the 
 house. But Hypolit himself was not yet there, the 
 family still being at supper, as the girl apologeti- 
 cally explained before shutting him into the bed- 
 room laboratory, in company with the skeleton, who 
 again wore one of Hypolit's hats, and seemed to be 
 grinning hospitably out of his corner as to an old 
 acquaintance. The striped curtains of some oriental 
 stuff had been let down to the ground, and, sus- 
 pended from the middle of the ceiling, a lamp 
 burned under a pale green shade, which shed a 
 sickly, subdued light over every object in the room. 
 The French novels appeared to be bound, not in 
 yellow but in green ; the skeleton might have been 
 that of a man recently pulled from the bottom of the 
 sea, and still covered with the pale green slime of 
 the deep ; while even the flaming orange of the satin 
 bedcover smouldered now in subdued gleams, like
 
 248 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 that of a fire on to which a pail of water has been 
 emptied. 
 
 Gregor looked about him, with a curious tighten- 
 ing of the heart which he had not been aware of at 
 his first visit. The flasks upon the shelves, mys- 
 terious even by daylight, seemed under the present 
 illumination almost directly to suggest the Black 
 Arts. He was aware, too, of an odour no, of 
 several odours of which one undoubtedly was some 
 sharp flower-scent, but of which others, with which 
 it was struggling, and which apparently it had been 
 used to disguise, bore an unpleasantly chemical 
 character about them, reminding him of a doctor's 
 waiting-room in Lemberg in which he had once 
 passed half an hour. With a certain sense of 
 trepidation he probed the shadowy corners of the 
 room ; was not this a magician's cave into which 
 he had been lured for his own undoing ? Astonish- 
 ment at his presence here mingled with the trepida- 
 tion. What was it, after all, that he had come for ? 
 Would it not be better to retire before Hypolit 
 came in to miss the tryst, and to remain for ever 
 in ignorance of whatever it was that Hypolit had 
 summoned him to hear? Probably there would still 
 be time to go before the family left the supper-table. 
 He looked at the door, but instead of going towards 
 it he sat down on the chair beside him, and im- 
 patiently took up the first book that lay within 
 reach, ' Lettres de Femmes, par Marcel Prevost.' He 
 could not even read this much, being totally ignorant 
 of French. He took up the next a solid volume
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 249 
 
 this, both in appearance and contents 'An Inquiry 
 into the Effects of Contaminated Air on the Functions 
 of the Breathing Organs' Gregor put it down almost 
 as precipitately as the other, but at the same 
 moment bent again sharply forward. Among the 
 litter of books stood an enamelled tray filled with 
 loose photographs, and in the topmost and most 
 conspicuously disposed of these he had recognised 
 the portrait of Wasylya, the same portrait he had 
 seen in the Matrimonial Album of the seminary. 
 For a moment he remained in his bent attitude, 
 staring at it fixedly, while the blood mounted slowly 
 from his heart to his head. It seemed to him almost 
 as though he had been abruptly transported back 
 into her presence, and that his first movement might 
 disperse the vision. Then, slowly and cautiously, he 
 stretched his trembling fingers towards the tray, and 
 with bent head looked at the picture, as one looks at 
 a treasure one had never hoped to see again. It 
 was long, very long, since he had met those laughing 
 eyes, even in counterfeit; for his own copy, bestowed 
 by Wasylya's own hand, he had, on the eve of his 
 marriage with Zenobia, destroyed, from a scruple of 
 conscience. How that white rose in her black hair 
 carried back his thoughts to those cruelly brief weeks 
 during which he had scarcely ever seen her without a 
 flower somewhere about her person. 
 
 He was still sitting thus, with bent head, holding 
 the picture before him with both his hands, and 
 wondering why it was beginning to grow blurred, 
 when Hypolit came in.
 
 250 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Gregor did not hear the door, nor Hypolit's step 
 upon the soft carpet, and started back to conscious- 
 ness only when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. 
 Then he quickly threw the picture into the tray, but 
 not before Hypolit's quick eyes had marked it. He 
 said nothing, but the gleam in those small, restless 
 eyes looked remarkably like satisfaction. Was it 
 possible that that topmost photograph had not been 
 quite accidentally disposed ? 
 
 ' You are punctual,' he remarked, more gravely 
 than was his habit. ' It is I who should have been 
 waiting for you.' 
 
 Gregor got up in a sudden flurry. So deep had 
 he been in thoughts of the past that for a moment 
 he had lost sight of the object of his visit. 
 
 ' It is nothing,' he said confusedly. ' I came only 
 to say good-bye and in answer to your note/ as he 
 seemed abruptly to remember what he was here for. 
 
 ' Sit down again ; there will be time enough to say 
 good-bye when we have done our talk.' 
 
 Defiance stood plainly written in Gregor's blue 
 eyes as he asked a little disdainfully 
 
 ' You have something to say to me? ' 
 
 ' I have something to show you.' 
 
 ' Be quick, please, then, for my wife is expecting 
 me home.' 
 
 The unusual gravity, almost solemnity, of Hypolit's 
 manner somehow put him out of his calculations. 
 He never could have supposed that the absence of 
 that delicately derisive smile, without which it was 
 so difficult to imagine Hypolit, could be so discon-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 251 
 
 certing as it proved to be at this juncture. It was 
 as though he had to do with a stranger, and not with 
 Hypolit at all. 
 
 ' I shall be as quick as you desire, and I trust also 
 as clear.' 
 
 As he spoke, Hypolit had walked to the door and 
 turned the key in the lock. 
 
 ' It is as well to guard against interruptions,' he 
 said, in reply to Gregor's glance of inquiry. Then, 
 while the other's eyes followed him, he went to a 
 small side-press, and, taking a key from his watch- 
 chain, unlocked it. When he came back to the table 
 he was holding a folded paper in one hand. 
 
 ' Read this,' he said briefly, putting the paper into 
 Gregor's hands. 
 
 Gregor, still standing beside the table, took the 
 paper as he was bid, and held it beneath the lamp. 
 It was not hard to read, being written in an excep- 
 tionally clear hand. The stamp upon the paper was 
 that of a chemical institute at Lemberg, and the 
 signature that of the director, while the contents 
 consisted of the attestation that arsenic, in such 
 and such a proportion, had been found in the human 
 remains sent in for analysis, the quantity being such 
 as unavoidably to have caused death. 
 
 Gregor read it all through to the signature without 
 any especial sensation, because without comprehen- 
 sion, and then, with an automatic gesture, handed 
 back the paper to Hypolit. 
 
 ' Why do you show me this ? ' he asked dully. 
 ' It is one of your medical things.'
 
 252 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' You don't yet understand. It was I who sent in 
 these human remains, Gregor ! ' 
 
 Something in his tone cut Gregor like a knife. 
 
 ' You ? ' Then, after a moment, during which a 
 surging sound began to grow in his ears : ' Where 
 did you get them from ? ' 
 
 ' From the churchyard at Hlobaki.' 
 
 Gregor's gaze became almost a glare before he 
 said, in a voice which made you guess how dry was 
 his mouth 
 
 ' You cannot mean you cannot mean that 
 
 ' Yes, I do. I told you that the thing was difficult, 
 but that, if it did not prove impossible, I would do 
 it. Well, it has not proved impossible.' 
 
 The other had fallen on to the chair beside him, 
 sideways, and taking hold of the back with his two 
 hands, on which the strained skin and whitening 
 knuckles betrayed the convulsiveness of the grip, 
 laid his forehead against the carved wood. A 
 sensation, not so much of horror as of pure physical 
 sickness, kept him helpless for some moments. 
 When he looked up at last, his face appeared of as 
 ghastly a green under the lamp-shade as did the 
 skeleton in the corner. 
 
 ' The family consented ? ' he asked very low. 
 
 4 I did not ask whether they did. I managed 
 without anybody's consent.' 
 
 ' It is not possible ! ' said Gregor, still speaking 
 faintly. 
 
 ' Oh yes, it is. At this season the nights are long, 
 you know,' added Hypolit, attempting to fall into
 
 2 53 
 
 his customary flippancy of tone, perhaps because 
 he felt that the seriousness of the subject might 
 otherwise become unbearable, but not perfectly 
 succeeding. ' It was not exactly child's play, but 
 human ingenuity can do much, and money can do 
 more ; and fortunately for my plan, the old Hlobaki 
 gravedigger is a man inclined to listen to reason, 
 especially when reason paves the way to w6dki. 
 The season, too, is favourable ; when leaves are fall- 
 ing so thick, any slight disturbance of the ground 
 is less likely to be noticed.' 
 
 With his two hands planted on his knees, Gregor, 
 still deadly pale, sat like a man stupefied. At 
 Hypolit's last words a shiver ran abruptly down 
 his back. A series of hideous visions started up 
 before his inner eye. Was this creature he was 
 speaking to a man like himself, or some ghoul of 
 the night, such as he had read of in the tales of 
 his childhood ? 
 
 ' I had never doubted that I should find arsenic,' 
 pursued Hypolit, as he somewhat nervously smoothed 
 his small moustache ; ' and I found it, too, without 
 difficulty. But my testimony alone would not have 
 been enough to convince you, I knew that, therefore 
 I sent the the stuff to Lemberg, where, fortunately, 
 I have a friend in the chemical institute. Without 
 his aid I would never have got the result so quickly. 
 The chief risk was bringing on an investigation, 
 but I think I have averted that danger by asserting 
 that it was a case of suicide, and that the family 
 was anxious, for especial reasons, to ascertain what
 
 254 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 poison had been used. The answer is here,' and he 
 indicated the paper in his hand. 
 
 Gregor was looking up at him with twitching lips 
 and haggard eyes. 
 
 ' Hypolit,' he said, in a broken voice, ' is there 
 anything you believe in ? ' 
 
 ' Why do you ask ? ' 
 
 ' Because, if you believe in anything, either in 
 heaven or upon earth, I would ask you to swear by 
 this thing that you are not deceiving me ; that this 
 testimony really applies to that which you tell me 
 it applies to, and not perhaps to something quite 
 different ; in one word, that this is not all a farce. 
 You have learned so much, and I have learned so 
 little, that in this matter I feel entirely at your 
 mercy.' 
 
 ' I do not believe in anything but science and the 
 principles of Friedrich Nietsche,' said Hypolit, after 
 a moment's deliberation ; ' but I love my father 
 certainly more than Nietsche would approve of. Will 
 it convince you if I swear to you by my love to him 
 that every word I have told you is true ? Besides, 
 although in one sense you say truly that you are at 
 my mercy, in another way I am entirely at yours. If 
 you are convinced of the falseness of my statement, 
 you have only to insist on an exhumation, an official 
 one this time, made in all form, and the absence of 
 all traces of poison would at one blow prove the 
 groundlessness of the accusation, and would betray 
 my own unauthorised act, on which, of course, the 
 law lays a heavy penalty. There is nothing to pre-
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 255 
 
 vent your adopting this course, if you believe that 
 I am lying.' 
 
 With one elbow resting on his knee, his body 
 bent, his face shaded by his hand, Gregor had fallen 
 into the immobility of deep thought 
 
 ' This much is proved, then,' he said presently, and 
 almost quietly ; ' but this does not prove everything. 
 She was poisoned but by whom ? ' 
 
 ' You know as well as I that there is only one person 
 who could have an interest in her death. Suicide, I 
 presume, you will admit to be out of the question.' 
 
 Dropping his hand Gregor threw a long glance 
 towards the photograph on the tray, and slowly 
 shook his head. Wasylya and suicide ! The two 
 things would not agree. 
 
 ' An accident ? ' he suggested, catching at the first 
 thing that came into his mind. 
 
 ' If you will question Justina Mostewicz, you will 
 find that she never, on principle, kept rat-poison in 
 the house. The only other poison procurable would 
 have been phosphorus by breaking off enough 
 match-heads and infusing them in milk or spirits; 
 but it was not phosphorus which the analysis 
 revealed, it was arsenic.' 
 
 For a moment longer Gregor sat silent, his eyes 
 still upon the photograph on the tray, then, getting 
 up slowly, he began to look about for his hat. 
 
 'You are going?' asked Hypolit, watching him 
 curiously. 
 
 ' Yes, I am going.' 
 
 ' And what will you do ? '
 
 256 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' I don't know ; nothing, I think.' The voice 
 expressed only a profound exhaustion, both physical 
 and mental. He had found his hat by this time, 
 but still stood on the same spot, looking towards 
 the table. 
 
 ' Do you admit that I have kept my promise ? ' 
 
 ' Your promise ? Yes, yes,' said Gregor, in what 
 seemed a sudden access of absent-mindedness. 
 ' Hypolit,' he added, in the same tone, ' would you 
 mind letting me have that picture ? It can have no 
 value for you.' 
 
 He put out his hand as he spoke, and took hold of 
 Wasylya's photograph with fingers which evidently 
 did not mean to give it up again. 
 
 The miniature Mephisto had never looked his part 
 so thoroughly as, with a just perceptible gleam of his 
 white teeth, he answered 
 
 ' Oh yes, you can have it, if you care. It is like 
 her, I think. Here it is, and here is the attestation 
 too,' he added, with an affectation of carelessness, as 
 he put both the things into Gregor's hands. 
 
 And Gregor went home that evening with the sus- 
 picion which he had thought dead, come back to life 
 in his mind, and with Wasylya's photograph in his 
 pocket.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 TO fall a prey to a mortal disease is almost the 
 worst evil that can befall us mortal men ; but 
 worse than this is to believe ourselves cured, and to 
 awake one morning with the horrible consciousness 
 that the illness is there again, has been there all the 
 time, only in a latent state instead of in an active 
 one ; to recognise the old symptoms, one by one, 
 and to know that the cure has not been a cure at all, 
 but only a stage in the illness. 
 
 This was what happened to Gregor, but not until 
 next morning. On the evening of his return from 
 Lussyatyn he had been too tired in body and mind 
 to do anything but lie down and pray for the sleep 
 which, thanks to the exposure to the sharp night air, 
 mercifully came. It was daylight which brought him 
 the full recognition of his state ; daylight, and the 
 first sight of his child. As he passed through the 
 room where Zenobia was giving it its morning bath, 
 he stood still, according to his habit, to watch the 
 small red legs churning up the water, and the expres- 
 sion of foolish beatitude in the working of the 
 wrinkles on the indiarubber face. The sight had 
 been one of his daily pleasures for seven weeks 
 R
 
 258 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 past, but to-day, at that sight, he surprised in himself 
 a sensation akin to physical repulsion. 
 
 ' He is getting quite difficult to hold,' said Zenobia, 
 and one could guess from her voice that she was 
 smiling. ' I think he will be stronger than you, 
 Gregor.' 
 
 Getting no answer, she turned round, and caught 
 sight of Gregor's face. In that instant she knew 
 that something was wrong, although she did not 
 immediately guess the truth. 
 
 ' I have not said good-morning to you,' she said, 
 not yet quite sure of her observation, and wanting 
 to put it to the test. She held up her face as she 
 spoke, as she had grown accustomed to do lately, 
 and Gregor, also according to a new habit, stooped 
 and kissed her on the cheek, but so coldly and hastily 
 that Zenobia knew now that she had been right. 
 
 ' Has anything happened ? ' she asked, with a 
 dawning anguish in her eyes ; but she knew already 
 what was wrong it was the old trouble come back 
 again. She made no effort to retain him as he 
 passed out through the second door, but presently, 
 the child being bathed and put to sleep, she rejoined 
 him in his private room. This time, at least, she was 
 determined not to let that dreadful barrier of reserve, 
 which had made of the whole summer so dreary a farce, 
 grow up again between them. She would stand up for 
 her happiness, no matter at what cost to her pride. 
 
 In his room Gregor was sitting before the table 
 with his head in his hands. 
 
 ' Gregor,' she said, making no effort to control the
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 259 
 
 deep vibrations of her voice, ' I don't know what has 
 come to you since yesterday, but I see that you have 
 again begun to doubt what I told you after the 
 birth of the little one. You said I was not to speak 
 of it again, but I see that I must. Do you want me 
 to repeat my assurance ? ' 
 
 Gregor raised his haggard face from between his 
 hands, and looking at her with eyes that were as 
 fiercely keen as knives, quivering to lay bare her 
 inmost soul. 
 
 ' Explain to me, rather,' he said hoarsely ; ' explain 
 instead of assuring ! It has been proved to me do 
 not ask me how, but proved beyond doubt that 
 Wasylya died by poison. What other hand can have 
 given it her? Tell me only that ! ' 
 
 ' Poison ? ' said Zenobia, steadying herself by 
 the edge of the table, while her eyes seemed to 
 grow in her white horrified face; 'that has been 
 proved ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. Suggest to me some possible explanation 
 of the mystery. Zenia, I beg of you, suggest it ! ' 
 
 She remained silent for a minute, her black eye- 
 brows drawn into a single dense line, while his 
 savagely penetrating gaze jealously watched every 
 shade .of her expression. 
 
 ' I can suggest nothing ; I know of no explanation^ 
 and I am not clever enough to invent one. I know 
 only that it was not my hand which gave her the 
 poison. You believe me, Gregor ! say only that 
 you believe me ! ' 
 
 ' I am trying to,' said the unhappy man, as he
 
 260 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 turned his face from her to the window. ' God 
 knows that I want to believe you ! ' 
 
 The discouragement in his tone was to her almost 
 worse than the coldness. 
 
 ' Not like that, Gregor ! do not say it like that ! ' 
 she cried, feeling how her happiness was slipping 
 from her grasp, as plainly as one feels a chain 
 slipping through one's fingers, and telling herself 
 that with one last effort it might yet be held back. 
 ' I cannot bear your coldness ; I have borne it so 
 long, and I love you too much for that, at least you 
 believe that I love you, do you not, Gregor?' 
 
 ' I wish I could forget it ! ' he broke out, turning his 
 flashing eyes back upon her. ' It is the very thing 
 you should not remind me of, if you were wise ! ' 
 
 And as Zenobia noted the convulsion of his 
 features, she knew that, despite all her efforts, the 
 barrier would again grow up between them, that, 
 in fact, it was already standing in its place. 
 
 Within the next days and weeks she knocked 
 herself against it more than once, painfully yet fruit- 
 lessly. She was neither an ingenious nor an inven- 
 tive woman, and always rather slow in working out 
 an idea ; she stood by helpless, watching the consum- 
 mation of her undoing. 
 
 Soon Gregor's last state showed itself as far worse 
 than the first. ' It was not because my reason was 
 convinced/ he said to himself, 'that I believed 
 her, it was because I wanted to believe her, but 
 now I have lost that power.' Rack his brain as he 
 might for some explanation of the death by poison,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 261 
 
 which would be conceivable and would not imply 
 Zenobia's guilt, he could find nothing. It was no use 
 saying to himself that Hypolit's motives were 
 apparent ; that jealousy and passion had driven him 
 to the hideous expedient adopted. Of course the 
 motives were apparent, but so also were the proofs ; 
 and against all that staring array nothing to stand 
 but Zenobia's word the word of a woman who, if 
 she had not stopped at murder, would certainly not 
 stop at falsehood, as that diabolical Hypolit had 
 truly said. No, it was the half-confession made on 
 the day after her father's death which was the true 
 one. She had said then that she had been wicked, 
 and had suffered for it ; how could the other assur- 
 ance accord with this ? 
 
 During these terrible weeks the convulsions which 
 tore Gregor's inner man began to be apparent on the 
 outer one. His mouth grew harder, his eyes wilder, 
 while his abruptly shrunken cheeks and his upright 
 hair, of which the bright ruddy gold began to be 
 tempered by a premature sprinkling of silver, made 
 him almost alarming to behold. It is not jealousy 
 alone which wears the constitution and gnaws the 
 bosom with the 'aspics' tongues' which preyed on 
 Othello ; suspicion can do as much, and more, with 
 certain natures. It seemed to Gregor that even 
 jealousy, the common human jealousy, would have 
 been easy to bear in comparison with this. Had she 
 proved a faithless wife, had she betrayed him for 
 Hypolit's sake, the Slav's lenient manner of viewing 
 any weakness of the senses would have moved him
 
 262 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 to forgive her ; but the one supreme crime, no, it 
 was too hard a punishment which had come over 
 him, to be mated to a female Cain ! 
 
 His anxiety to surprise her into a confession 
 developed in him an unsuspected cunning. He 
 would watch her from ingeniously devised hiding- 
 places, so as to note the difference of her expres- 
 sion when she believed herself alone ; whole nights 
 he would lie awake, hoping to catch some word 
 dropped in her sleep. 
 
 Once during these weeks, having been summoned 
 to Hlobaki on some business connected with Father 
 Nikodem's death, he found himself alone in the 
 orchard behind the house, and standing beside the 
 old grave monument, on which the mildewed Matka 
 Boska still faintly smiled. The branches overhead 
 were naked, and the ground whitened by a layer of 
 snow, thin and even as skin, through which the dead 
 grass blades pricked in ungainly fashion, like so 
 many bristling hairs. Nothing could be more un- 
 like that May day so long ago, when he had knelt 
 here on the then flowering grass with Zenobia and 
 her sisters, and yet the sight of the spot carried his 
 memory back forcibly to that moment. He remem- 
 bered now how near he had been to speaking directly 
 to Zenobia then ; that alone might have altered the 
 whole course of after-events. Pledged personally, 
 and knowing himself deeply loved, he would never 
 even have glanced at the other sister, and that which 
 had happened would not have happened. Oh, for a 
 word of warning at that crisis of his life ! Could not
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 263 
 
 that stone image have opened its lips to speak the 
 word ? ' Betrayed ! betrayed ! ' he groaned, as, with 
 a gesture of senseless reproach, he stretched his 
 two clenched hands towards the impassively smiling 
 Matka Boska. 
 
 His only comparatively happy hours now were 
 those in which he shut himself into his room, in 
 company with Wasylya's photograph. The mere 
 possession of the picture had once more revealed to 
 him the existence of the unquenchable passion, from 
 which he would probably never be entirely delivered. 
 Even the joy in his child, as he now recognised, had 
 only been an interlude ; for with him affection was 
 as tenacious as suspicion, as impossible to root out, 
 as narrow, but also as deep. The longer he gazed 
 into that seductive face the further away he felt 
 from his wife ; and it was the laughter in Wasia's 
 eyes, quite as much as Hypolit's evidence, which 
 prevented him from reading the truth that stood in 
 Zenobia's. 
 
 Once, when dusting the room, Zenobia came upon 
 the photograph, hidden away under a book, where 
 he had pushed it when surprised by her entrance. 
 At sight of it something like a revelation came over 
 her. 
 
 ' That is what he does when he shuts himself in,' 
 she said to herself, taking up the picture with timid 
 curiosity. ' This is why he cannot love me. Was 
 she really so much more beautiful than I am ? Why 
 is it that I cannot gain his love as well as she ? 
 Perhaps because I have never really tried ; I have
 
 264 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 been content only to love him. But if he loved me 
 he would believe me/ she mused to herself, with 
 that feminine instinct which has nothing to do with 
 logic. 
 
 And on that same evening Zenobia did her hair in 
 a different fashion, and, because at this season she 
 could get no flower to put into it, she took one of 
 the blue bows off the baby's baptismal robe, and 
 nestled it among her thick plaits. But Gregor did 
 not even appear to notice it, which perhaps was 
 lucky, as the pale blue colour made her skin appear 
 almost swarthy ; for Zenobia was one of those women 
 who do not know how to make the most of them- 
 selves an art which Wasylya had understood in a 
 supreme degree. 
 
 But she did not lose courage. ' After all, he is a 
 young man and I am a young woman,' she said to 
 herself in her despair ; ' it cannot be impossible to 
 make him feel something for me.' 
 
 And, by the efforts to which she stooped, she did 
 succeed in making him feel something for her, but it 
 was not the affection she had hoped for. Perhaps 
 it was exactly because she knew how to love that 
 Zenobia was so completely ignorant in the science 
 of making love ; what should have been an artistic 
 and imperceptible throwing out of nets, became in 
 her downright and far too passionately earnest hands 
 a manoeuvre palpable to even the least acute mascu- 
 line eye. Her heart was far too deeply implicated 
 in the matter to let her head keep the govern- 
 ment, with the result that Gregor, guessing her
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 265 
 
 aim, shrank yet further from her, with a new sense 
 of horror. 
 
 ' Does she want to kill my conscience through my 
 senses ? ' he asked himself indignantly. ' She sees 
 I cannot believe her, and therefore she would draw 
 me into her own sin ; we are to let the past remain 
 the past, and to enjoy the fruits of the crime which 
 nothing can undo. My God, preserve me from fall- 
 ing so low !'
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 HT^HERE came a day, choked with a white mist, 
 JL which, weighing on the world, seemed to have 
 suffocated every sound and almost every movement, 
 and spent, in part, by Gregor by the side of a dying 
 man. Owing to the smallness of the windows, 
 shadowed by overhanging eaves, it was almost dark 
 in the low space. By degrees only, as his eyes grew 
 accustomed to the subdued light, Gregor came clearly 
 to read the features of the moribund peasant, who 
 had been installed on the place of honour: the 
 broad, flat top of the brick baking-oven, where he 
 lay propped up with pillows, and with a red bead 
 rosary wound in and out of his skin-and-bone fingers. 
 Ripe for death he undoubtedly was, this old man, 
 with his white, tangled mane, in which single black 
 threads still lingered, his brown leather cheeks 
 bristling with grisly hair, and his black, sunken eyes, 
 in whose depth just now an uneasy yellow fire was 
 burning. Neither was there much lamentation going 
 on around him ; not because his grandchildren and 
 great-grandchildren did not love him, but because 
 they acknowledged in their hearts that it was time 
 for him to reap his reward. To grudge him the 
 
 266
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 267 
 
 hard-earned rest would scarcely have been quite 
 Christianlike, the less so as there could be no doubt 
 of his reaching the right place, seeing that Michal 
 Skowron had lived a life acknowledged by the 
 village to be almost a model one, showing as it did 
 the smallest record of drunkenness and wife-beating, 
 and the largest of church-going, known for miles 
 around. His family had been proud of his life, and 
 were prepared to be even prouder of his death. 
 Therefore it was only the children who, not wise 
 enough to perceive the advantages of the arrange- 
 ment, snivelled foolishly in corners, while the men 
 and women went about with grave but calm faces, 
 and if they wiped their eyes at all, tried to do so 
 unnoticed. 
 
 Just now they had all crowded into the little 
 entrance behind the door, and, but for the presence 
 of two speckled hens who shared the family's winter 
 quarters, Gregor was alone with his penitent. What 
 with the hens, the many sheepskin coats which went 
 out and in there, and the many garlic-scented breaths 
 drawn within the hermetically closed space, the 
 atmosphere was enough to knock down many a strong 
 man, but not the seasoned Gregor. Beside the fleecy 
 whiteness of the mist which lay against the tiny 
 windows as thick as cotton-wool, the oil-lamp before 
 the holy image in the corner burned of a dusky 
 orange. Yellow bunches of maize hung from the 
 rafters, where they had been put to dry, the spot 
 beneath being much frequented by the hens in hopes 
 of fallen grains. A deal table, and a bare wooden
 
 268 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 bench running round the wall, completed the furniture 
 of the space, of which the enormous brick oven 
 occupied nearly a quarter. The oven was not high, 
 yet high enough to force Gregor, when sitting, to 
 raise his face towards the sick man. The unquiet 
 light in the depth of those eyes had puzzled him 
 from the first ; it could not be regret for life he had 
 never met the sentiment in any of his parishioners 
 past sixty and it was not pain, for physically he was 
 suffering nothing. Now, alone with Michal Skowron, 
 he was to learn the cause of this unusual expres- 
 sion. 
 
 'You would say, Reverend Father, that I have 
 lived as good a life as my neighbours ? ' Michal was 
 asking in that peculiar hollow tone which generally 
 means that the end is near. 
 
 ' A better life than most of your neighbours,' said 
 Gregor in his mildest tone, for the deathbed of this 
 virtuous old man was no place for a display of severity ; 
 ' and you are soon to reap your reward.' 
 
 Something rattled in Michal's throat, scarcely 
 possible to recognise as a laugh. 
 
 ' That is what you think, and what the neighbours 
 think, but I have made fools of you all along. Look 
 at my hand ! Do you see anything upon it ? ' And, 
 with an effort, he freed one of his hands from the 
 rosary, and held it feebly towards Gregor. 
 
 ' I see nothing,' said Gregor astonished, and in 
 fact there was nothing to be seen but the blisters 
 and scars of hard labour. 
 
 'Not? Then you have only the eyes of a man,
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 269 
 
 not of God. You do not see the blood upon it? 
 But it is there ! it is there ! ' 
 
 From the poor shaking hand to the burning eyes, 
 watching him from under ragged, white eyebrows, 
 Gregor looked back in sudden alarm. When one 
 of the women put her head into the room in order 
 stolidly to inquire whether it was not time to bring 
 the blest candle, he could answer only with a negative 
 sign. For a minute longer, nothing but Michal's 
 laboured breath was heard, then he began to speak, 
 slowly and painfully. 
 
 ' It is so long ago that not more than half a dozen 
 men in the village remember it ; you, Reverend 
 Father, will never even have heard of it, for it was 
 all over long before you were born. His name was 
 Piotr Ranek, and his ground and mine lay together, 
 down by the river, where Gawril Lucyan had his 
 potatoes last summer. He was an aggressive sort of 
 man, and always ready to pick a quarrel. We had 
 had a few disputes, because of cows straying over 
 the border, but never anything serious. One day 
 towards dark I came to my field, and caught him in 
 the very act of displacing the stone that stood on 
 the boundary, pushing it farther to my side, of course. 
 It began with words, bad words, of course, and it 
 finished with our hands. I don't think I quite lost my 
 head until I saw Gawril feeling for his knife. I had 
 no knife about me ; there was nothing near me but 
 the stone. I did not know how strong I was until 
 I saw Gawril topple over on to his back ; the big, 
 flat stone had hit him on the side of his head. When
 
 2 ;o THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 he did not move, after a minute, I began to under- 
 stand. What was there for it ? Why, the river, of 
 course, so deep, and close by. It was nearly dark, 
 and nobody in the fields. I saw in a minute what 
 I must do. I went home, wondering whether I should 
 be arrested next morning. But neither next morning 
 or on any other morning did any one trouble me, not 
 even with so much as a question. The whole village 
 knew that Gawril drank, and when his body was 
 found a mile down the river, every one thought it 
 quite natural that he should have ended that way, 
 and the head had been so battered against the rocks 
 that the first mark could not be seen. 
 
 ' I was quite young when it happened, and now 
 I am older than I can count. All the rest of the 
 time I have lived respectably, and all have wondered 
 at my keeping so straight ; they do not know what 
 it is that has kept me straight : the fear of what I 
 had done, and the hope of washing out the sin. It 
 was possible to live like that, but I find that it is not 
 possible to die like that. I have done no man harm 
 by keeping silence, since no one was suspected ; but 
 it is the silence itself that I cannot bear to take with 
 me into the ground. Though nothing is easier than 
 to tell lies so long as a man is on his feet, when once 
 he comes on his back for the last time, it is the truth 
 only which can help. No one forces me to speak, 
 and yet I am forced to speak. There is something 
 in lying here, and in knowing that one will not stand 
 up again, that seems to tear open the lips and to 
 sting the tongue into saying the words. Death and
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 271 
 
 truth death and truth they seem to belong to- 
 gether.' 
 
 With many pauses and checks, and interrupted 
 once by another opening of the door, and another 
 inquiry regarding the blest candle, Michal Skowron 
 had brought out his tale, and now lay still again, 
 breathing heavily, and searching Gregor's face with 
 his uneasy eyes. 
 
 ' Is there pardon for me ? ' he asked timidly, startled 
 by the hardness in the priest's fixed gaze. ' Can I 
 yet die with the candle in my hand ? ' 
 
 ' Death and truth ! ' murmured Gregor, his eyes 
 still fastened to the mud wall opposite, as though 
 they would look through it. Then, as a movement 
 of the moribund caught his attention, he pulled him- 
 self together. 
 
 ' There is pardon for all repentant sinners,' he said 
 hastily, grasping at the first of the customary phrases 
 that came to his memory. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later the family filed in again, 
 and the blest candle was placed in Michal's hands. 
 Gregor motioned them all to the bench by the wall. 
 
 ' He has something to say to you,' he explained 
 briefly, as he stood beside the brick oven ; ' but do 
 not press upon him. He does not want to die with 
 any veil between you and him.' 
 
 ' Nor that you should think better of me than the 
 Almighty does,' whispered Michal ; and then, gather- 
 ing up the last remnants of his strength, he repeated 
 to them the story which he had just told to Gregor,
 
 272 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 and which, though they had passed their lives by his 
 side, not one of them had suspected. Gregor, from 
 his post beside the oven, could follow every shade of 
 expression upon every face, old and young, ranged 
 in mixed order round the room, the red-cheeked 
 faces of children alternating with the wrinkled visages 
 of middle-age, just as they had sat down at hap- 
 hazard. He could watch the transition from blank, 
 gaping wonder to curiosity, to agitation, and finally 
 to unmistakable consternation, differently expressed 
 according to the age and individuality of the hearer 
 but all unanimous in one particular: condemnation 
 of the sinner. Bloodshed ! The crime of crimes ! 
 By the light of his own thoughts, Gregor could read 
 theirs, without faltering or doubt, and knew that for 
 these simple, yet rigorous people, eighty years of 
 an apparently blameless life had in one instant 
 been outweighed by the revelation of that one black 
 moment. 
 
 And yet in the eyes of the old man on the top of 
 the oven the uneasy light no longer burned ; quiet 
 and obviously happy he lay there, with the blest 
 candle painfully propped between his fingers. The 
 dumb condemnation of his human judges could no 
 longer disturb one who felt himself so near to another 
 judge, one so much better acquainted with the holes 
 and corners of the human heart, and so much greater 
 a proficient in the dispensation of mercy. 
 
 ***** 
 
 As Gregor walked home through the blinding 
 mist which drowned the brown roofs as in a sea, and
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 273 
 
 hung in flakes upon the mottled palings, he seemed 
 to take with him in his eyes the picture of all those 
 silent, condemning faces, and in his ears the sound 
 of Michal's voice. 
 
 Truth yes truth ; how difficult it was to reach 
 it ; it would not be possible to live much longer 
 without reaching it ; he knew this by a new excite- 
 ment within him, born beside the deathbed he had 
 just left. His face betrayed him to Zenobia the 
 moment he entered. 
 
 ' Gregor, what is it ? ' she asked, rising instinc- 
 tively ; ' you look ill.' 
 
 ' No, I am not ill, but I have seen a man die ; 
 perhaps that has unnerved me a little.' 
 
 ' Michal Skowron ? But it is not the first time, 
 Gregor.' 
 
 ' No, it is not the first time, but I think it has been 
 the worst. It has taught me some new things ; the 
 difference, for instance, of doing a thing in life, and 
 of doing that same thing when death is staring you 
 in the face. Death and truth death and truth 
 yes, they belong together.' 
 
 He was pacing about the room with his eyes on 
 the floor, speaking more to himself than to her. 
 Suddenly he stood still before her. 
 
 ' Zenia,' he said, in the voice of a man who has 
 come to a resolution, 'this cannot go on. I can- 
 not wait for death to bring me the truth ; I must 
 have it now, while we are both alive.' 
 
 ' I have told you the truth.' 
 
 ' Will you tell it me again more solemnly, more 
 s
 
 274 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 emphatically? Will you swear it to me by the 
 salvation of your soul ? ' 
 
 ' If that will help to quiet you ' 
 
 ' Then come with me ; put something round you 
 and come with me quickly ! ' 
 
 His gesture was so imperative that, without asking 
 a question, she took up her shawl and wrapped it 
 round her shoulders. 
 
 Gregor had turned to the wall, where on a nail 
 hung the bunch of clumsy keys belonging to the 
 church. 
 
 ' Come quickly ! ' he said again, as he preceded her 
 out of the house, and led the way down the short bit 
 of lane, and across the piece of waste ground which 
 surrounded the church, whose round towers loomed 
 like unreal things out of the suffocating mist. Not 
 a living thing met them on their short road ; for any 
 sound or movement in the silent lane the world might 
 have been lying dead around them, choked by the 
 mist that weighed upon it, and they the sole sur- 
 vivors. 
 
 Gregor went straight to the little side entrance 
 which led to the sacristy, and, with steady fingers, 
 fitted the key into the lock. Inside, still without a 
 word, but with an evident strain upon his set face, 
 he took down his surplice from the wall, and before 
 the eyes of the wondering Zenobia, quickly passed it 
 over his head. Then he looked about him, as though 
 in search of something. 
 
 'What is it?' she ventured to ask, beginning to 
 shiver with a sense of impending solemnity.
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 275 
 
 ' The matches, a candle must be lit.' 
 
 He found the matches under a discarded altar- 
 cloth, and taking one of the heavy bee's-wax candles 
 that stood in a corner, lit it and put it into Zenobia's 
 hands. 
 
 ' Come ! ' he said for the last time, and taking the 
 book of gospels from its case, he advanced into the 
 church. 
 
 Here everything lay as though under a veil ; the 
 mist which pressed against the windows seemed to 
 have followed them in by the door, which Gregor 
 had forgotten to close behind them, and to have laid 
 a film even upon the bright gilding and the gaudy 
 colouring of the holy pictures. 
 
 ' Kneel down ! ' said Gregor, in a stern whisper ; 
 and Zenobia knelt down obediently before the altar, 
 the candle in her shaking hand raining wax on to 
 the carpet which covered the steps. 
 
 'Take it into your left hand, and lay the right 
 upon the Book.' 
 
 She did so, recognising now the particulars of 
 the ceremony in use when one of the peasants takes 
 the pledge of sobriety, and which she had often 
 witnessed. 
 
 ' And now speak after me 
 
 ' I swear by the salvation of my soul, and by the 
 hope of that salvation which is contained in this 
 Holy Book, that I am innocent of the death of my 
 sister Wasylya, and know nothing of the cause of 
 her death.' 
 
 When her last trembling words had died away in
 
 276 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 the corners of the empty church, there was a moment 
 during which neither of them moved. Zenobia, still 
 shivering with excitement, did not yet venture to 
 raise her eyes to Gregor's face, for fear of what she 
 might see there. It was only when beside her she 
 heard a breath drawn it sounded like a breath of 
 relief that she found courage to look up. The 
 strain seemed gone from his features, as he stood 
 with bent head before the altar. 
 
 ' You can go,' he said more quietly ; ' I shall follow 
 presently.' 
 
 And she went, leaving him alone in the church, 
 and praying in her heart that peace might have 
 come to him at last. 
 
 The mist was melting into dusk when Gregor 
 reached his room. Groping about for a light, the 
 photograph came into his hands, but he put it aside 
 resolutely. 
 
 ' I should destroy it,' he said to himself, ' now that 
 I am convinced ; and also that villainous paper, 
 which has done all the harm, and which, as likely as 
 not, is a forgery : that devil Hypolit is clever enough 
 for anything/ 
 
 He had made a light by this time, and unlocking 
 a drawer, took out the attestation of the chemical 
 institute. He had already made up his mind to push 
 it into the stove, where Zenobia's forethought had lit 
 a crackling fire to welcome him ; but instead of doing 
 so on the instant, he unfolded the paper once more, 
 and, driven by an irresistible impulse, began to look 
 it over, for the last time, he told himself. He had
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 277 
 
 been standing when he began to read, but after a 
 moment he sat down, and having come to the end, 
 remained in his chair, frowning at the sheet before 
 him. No, that could be no forgery ; it bore the 
 stamp of genuineness even on the texture of the 
 paper. Truth, a matter-of-fact, businesslike sort 
 of truth, stared back at him from the official stamp. 
 
 But then but then 
 
 Gregor fell forward with his head upon the table. 
 Another sham cure ! The evil was there again ; not 
 even the oath before the altar had been able to 
 conjure the disease. What could an oath the most 
 solemn of oaths mean to a woman who had com- 
 mitted the supreme crime? Even an assassin could 
 not be more than damned. Had not Michal 
 Skowron said that nothing was easier than lying, so 
 long as a person was on his feet ? And on his knees 
 it was probably not much more difficult, so long as 
 the body feels strong enough to stand up again. 
 
 When Zenobia found him thus, she understood 
 even before he had spoken. 
 
 ' Not yet ? ' she asked reproachfully, a shade which 
 looked like sulkiness, but which was but wounded 
 pride settling upon her face. ' You do not believe 
 me yet ? ' 
 
 He shook his head without speaking. 
 
 ' But what more can I do than swear upon the 
 Holy Book ? ' she cried, in one of her rare bursts of 
 anger. 
 
 ' I know you can do nothing, but I also can do 
 nothing ; it is too strong for me. I shall continue
 
 278 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 to doubt until death brings truth with it. If you die 
 before me, and if on your deathbed you still have 
 the courage to protest your innocence, then I shall 
 believe you, but not before. Life and lies can live 
 together comfortably side by side I learned that 
 to-day ; but death and truth belong together.' 
 
 Then for a moment husband and wife looked at 
 each other across the table, and in each of their 
 hearts the thought of the life before them seemed to 
 stretch like a long, featureless waste.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 A FEW days before the Christmas Day of the 
 Greek Church, Gregor's sledge, with both 
 Gregor and Zenobia in it, went to Lussyatyn. It 
 was almost the first time that they found themselves 
 in a prolonged tete-a-tete since that afternoon visit 
 to the church. The situation had now come to be 
 tacitly acknowledged by both to be so strained that 
 Gregor preferred to come in late to meals, and that 
 Zenobia, too deeply discouraged for further efforts, 
 was even thankful for these respites. But to-day 
 there was no help for it ; it was high time for 
 Zenobia to make her Christmas confession to Father 
 Urban, who, since her marriage, had become her 
 standing confessor ; and Gregor, whom ecclesiastical 
 business called into town, had no chance but to 
 accompany her. 
 
 The cold wind, which drove the snow into their 
 faces, and made the covering up of one's ears a 
 necessity, and the opening of one's mouth almost an 
 impossibility, was, despite its keen edge, welcome to 
 both husband and wife, who spent the half-hour in 
 the sledge almost in silence, though side by side. 
 
 ' Shall I drive you straight to the church ? ' asked 
 
 279
 
 280 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Gregor, when they had got into the streets of 
 Lussyatyn. 
 
 ' No ; I have to buy some flannel first ; I need 
 some more wrappers for the baby. Please put me 
 down at Fiderer's. I shall go to the church on foot. 
 It is early still, and Father Urban will not yet be in 
 his confessional.' 
 
 ' Very well ; I shall try to catch him at home, so 
 as to get my business over with him.' 
 
 Zenobia was accordingly put down at Fiderer's, 
 and Gregor took the sledge to the Jarewiczs' house, 
 where he found Father Urban shivering before a 
 crackling stove, and with a second comforter round 
 his neck in addition to the one which he invariably 
 wore in winter. 
 
 ' My throat again ! ' he sighed softly, in answer to 
 Gregor's inquiries. ' And to think that in half an 
 hour I shall have to go over there ! ' He jerked his 
 shoulder disconsolately in the direction of the 
 window, from which the church was visible. ' The 
 girls are right in saying that these wooden churches 
 are nothing but boxfuls of draughts. Ah, if I had 
 my new brick church ready ! That one will be air- 
 tight, I warrant you ! Just listen to that wind ! 
 Do you think that one rug will be enough for my 
 legs, or hadn't I better take a second ? ' 
 
 On several chairs around the stove a miscellaneous 
 collection of articles of clothing were ranged, as 
 though for exhibition, but with the true object of 
 absorbing as much warmth as their constitution 
 allowed of; a long fur-lined coat, a pair of tall felt
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 281 
 
 boots to be pulled over the leather ones, a striped 
 rug, and yet another comforter of thick, knitted 
 wool ; this was the arsenal destined to defend Father 
 Urban from the chilly church atmosphere. 
 
 ' If I had known it was going to turn out such a 
 day as this I would never have given notice ; but 
 there is no help for it now ; every one knows that I 
 am to be in my confessional this afternoon, and 
 really it 's getting too close, as it is, with the Christ- 
 mas confessions.' 
 
 He smiled at Gregor as he spoke, a smile of wistful 
 resignation. In truth, his face looked so ghastly, 
 and his whole small person so frail, that the idea of 
 tearing this feeble old man out of his sheltered nook 
 struck Gregor as almost inhuman. With the sole 
 thought of compassion in his mind, it became almost 
 inevitable to say 
 
 ' Could I not replace you ? ' 
 
 Over Father Urban's fragile features there passed 
 a gleam of hopeful surprise. 
 
 ' You ? But you have your own work ; I have no 
 right to take you from it.' 
 
 ' I am not wanted at Rubience to-day ; I have 
 heard all the Christmas confessions.' 
 
 ' Dear me, how lucky ! But I don't know whether 
 I can conscientiously accept/ said the old priest 
 uncertainly. 
 
 ' I think, on the contrary, that you cannot con- 
 scientiously refuse. If you go to the confessional 
 to-day it is almost certain that you will not be fit to 
 sing High Mass on Christmas Day, and I shall not
 
 282 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 be able to replace you then. It is for Christmas Day 
 that you should nurse your throat.' 
 
 Gregor spoke with sudden animation, for all in an 
 instant he had caught sight of an amazing possi- 
 bility. 
 
 Father Urban's washed-out blue eyes travelled 
 wistfully to the window, against which the snowflakes 
 were rushing in intermittent gusts, and wistfully lent 
 his ear meanwhile to the porcelain stove, in which 
 was to be heard simultaneously the comfortable 
 crackle of the wood, and the howl of the wind up the 
 chimney. 
 
 ' Really, my son, it may be that you are right,' he 
 murmured, as he settled himself a little deeper in 
 his easy chair. 
 
 When, a little before the lapse of the half-hour, 
 Gregor, clad in Father Urban's fur coat, which was 
 undoubtedly warmer than his own, reached the 
 church, a small crowd of penitents was already 
 assembled ; but, peer about him as he would, he 
 could not catch sight of Zenobia. A few heads 
 were turned towards him, as he went quickly to- 
 wards the confessional, and a few whispered com- 
 ments passed, but Father Urban's parishioners were 
 too much used to these incidents to feel any great 
 surprise. 
 
 The cold was indeed deadly in the church, and 
 the breath that came from praying lips floated 
 visibly in the air, more conspicuous often than the 
 lips themselves ; for the darkness of the weather had
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 283 
 
 wrapped the inside of the building in a dusk which 
 was premature by at least two hours. Gregor, 
 taking his place behind the wooden trellis, felt that 
 his teeth were chattering, but knew at the same time 
 that it was not with the cold. What was it exactly 
 that he was going to do ? Why had he sought to 
 gain the shelter of the confessional so quickly, be- 
 fore too many eyes had marked him ? Why was he 
 so glad of this gloom, which hung an almost tangible 
 veil between every two faces ? Again, what was he 
 going to do ? To fulfil a simple act of neighbourly 
 service, or to commit a great treachery ? He was 
 not quite clear, knowing only that if it were wrong, 
 then, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was 
 going to do wrong with the consent of his whole 
 will. That he could not do so calmly was proved to 
 him by the wild heart-beats which greeted every 
 new penitent, by the almost unbearable strain with 
 which he listened, with face carefully shaded, for the 
 first accents of every fresh voice that began to speak 
 at the other side of the wooden trellis. Not yet ; 
 old and young, sin-stained and almost innocent, 
 they came in mixed succession ; the trembling 
 accents of scrupulous souls alternating with the 
 indifferent drawl of those to whom the whole affair 
 had become a mere matter of habit, but among 
 them all she came not yet. 
 
 The strain, because of its very prolongation, was 
 beginning perforce to relax, when at last, through 
 the thickening shadows, the voice he had been wait- 
 ing for seemed to tear a passage. It was almost
 
 284 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 impossible that she should see his face, and yet, at 
 the very first accent, he shrank guiltily together, 
 spreading his hand more elaborately and letting the 
 handkerchief he held fall in looser folds about his 
 features. 
 
 When she ceased speaking his position did not 
 change. What he had heard was but a common- 
 place list of very ordinary offences ; but there might 
 be more to hear, and for that it was necessary to 
 question. It was for this that he was trying to 
 steady his nerves. 
 
 When several movements had passed without his 
 speaking, the penitent made a discreet movement, 
 as though to arrest his attention, then, after another 
 pause, remarked timidly 
 
 ' My confession is ended, Reverend Father.' 
 
 With cold fingers Gregor pressed the handkerchief 
 closer to his face. It was time to speak if he would 
 not betray himself, and even if in so doing he 
 betrayed himself, it was time to speak. 
 
 ' Is it truly ended ? ' he inquired in a whisper, 
 which nervousness made incisive. ' Does no other 
 sin, some sin of your former life, press upon your 
 conscience?' 
 
 There was a pause of surprise, before the well- 
 known voice came back again 
 
 ' Of my former life ? But I confessed myself 
 three months ago.' 
 
 ' Yes, but before so great a day it is good to look 
 back even beyond the last absolution ' 
 
 He ceased abruptly, for at the other side of the
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 285 
 
 trellis there had been something like a cry, choked 
 at the rising. 
 
 ' Gregor ! ' said Zenobia, almost aloud. ' It is you ? 
 Oh, my God !' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! ' was his instinctive word, as in the 
 agitation of the moment he dropped the shielding 
 hand, and husband and wife looked into each other's 
 widely distended eyes, from between the primitive 
 wooden bars. It was the shielding hand itself which 
 had been the traitor. Zenobia had not seen his face, 
 nor recognised the disguised voice, but that wonder- 
 fully shaped, delicately white hand, so well known to 
 her and visible even in the shadows, had abruptly 
 told the truth. And to think that the mere pre- 
 caution of putting on a pair of gloves might have 
 averted this ! His nails were blue with cold, as it 
 was, and yet, so great was his mental absorption, 
 that the idea of the gloves had never even occurred 
 to him. 
 
 Zenobia's eyes flared up, right through the gloom, 
 and her lips moaned, as though she were going to 
 say more, but no sound came, and before he had 
 spoken again she had risen and was gone, not only 
 out of the confessional but out of the church, where, 
 wrapping her cloak about her, she began to pace 
 about in the shelter of the wall, as though in wait 
 for something, and heedless of the flying snow, or 
 more truly speaking, grateful for its coolness upon 
 her burning face. 
 
 When in the dusk, almost in the dark, Gregor at 
 length came out, he found her on his path.
 
 286 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' Listen,' she said, while the wind which took the 
 words out of her mouth made it appear as though 
 she were speaking in gasps ; ' this must end some- 
 how, it is more than I can bear. It was to surprise 
 me that you went into the confessional to-day ; you 
 hoped to force some secret from me.' 
 
 Gregor might have answered with literal truth : 
 ' It was to replace the sick Father Urban that I 
 went/ but he answered without hesitation, and in 
 that same tone of exasperated excitement in which 
 she spoke 
 
 ' Yes, that is what I hoped.' 
 
 ' And now that you have not succeeded, are you 
 satisfied at last that there is nothing to hear ? ' 
 
 ' No, I am not satisfied.' 
 
 ' But you heard my whole confession ? ' 
 
 'You had recognised me before you began, or 
 at least before you ended ; I am sure you had 
 recognised me.' 
 
 'But listen ' 
 
 ' There is nothing to listen to ; I know what you 
 would say ! ' 
 
 ' But, Gregor, this life is becoming unbearable ! ' 
 she cried aloud, with the sharp ring of despair in 
 her voice. 
 
 ' Unbearable ! ' he echoed, and laughed more like 
 Hypolit than like himself as he added : 'And yet it 
 has to be borne.' 
 
 She walked some steps forward, and turned again. 
 
 ' Where is the sledge ? I cannot stay here ; I must 
 go home at once.'
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 287 
 
 1 You can go,' he said, after a moment's reflection ; 
 ' but I shall stay ; I shall not be done with my 
 business to-night. Father Urban will let Fedor 
 drive you.' 
 
 The thought of the drive home and of the long 
 evening before him had suddenly come over him as 
 something which he did not feel equal to face. Any 
 pretext which allowed him to spend the night at 
 Lussyatyn was good enough, and by to-morrow 
 perhaps something might have occurred to him 
 which could make the situation more endurable. 
 Such as it was, it could not long remain. Zenobia 
 was right when she said that this must be ended 
 somehow.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 NEXT morning, very early, Fedor was back with 
 the sledge. It was so early that Gregor, 
 who had spent the night in the Jarewiczs' house, was 
 awakened by finding Fedor himself standing beside 
 the bed, and shaking him by the shoulder. 
 
 ' You are to come at once/ he was saying in his 
 broad peasant's accents ; ' the Popadia is ill.' 
 
 Gregor sat up, scarcely well awake, blinded by the 
 flame of the tallow candle which Fedor was holding 
 all aslant in one hand, for it was still an hour and 
 more from sunrise. 
 
 ' I am coming I am coming,' he said hastily, 
 using the words he was accustomed to speak when 
 awakened in the night by a summons to the dying. 
 Then, after a moment, during which his brain began 
 to clear 
 
 ' Who did you say was ill ? ' 
 
 ' The Popadia, your wife.' 
 
 ' The Popadia? But she was well yesterday. Has 
 she sent for the doctor ? ' 
 
 ' No ; she said she did not want the doctor, but 
 only you, and you were to come quickly.' 
 
 ' It is what they call an attack of the nerves,' said 
 Gregor to himself, as in the light of the candle he
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 289 
 
 began to grope about for his clothes. ' The con- 
 tinuation of the scene of yesterday ; oh, my God, 
 how is this to go on ? Another bandying of empty 
 words ; and yet I cannot but go, if it is only for 
 shame before the servants.' 
 
 He left the house without having seen any one 
 else astir, and, taking the reins from Fedor's hands, 
 began to fill the still sleeping streets with the tinkle 
 of his sledge-bells. There were no lamps on the 
 sledge, but the two whitenesses, that of the approach- 
 ing dawn and that of the freshly fallen snow, were 
 enough to show him his road, though in a spectral 
 and unreal fashion, making the white fields appear 
 to melt away into the white sky, and the round- 
 headed willows in the hedgerows look unpleasantly 
 human. Without hurry he drove; what was there 
 to hurry for? He felt heart-sick already at the 
 thought of that which awaited him. 
 
 It was daylight already a dull, colourless, sunless 
 daylight when he went up the steps of his house. 
 The first thing that met him was a sound a sound 
 which, even without having yet identified it, he 
 recognised as associated in his memory with some- 
 thing terrible. He stood still to listen ; it came 
 from the bedroom over there, and, yes, it was the 
 voice of a woman weeping, loudly and without 
 restraint, as uneducated people weep, as Hania 
 had wept on the day of Wasylya's death. Pushed 
 by a sudden intense curiosity, rather than by any 
 clearly defined feeling of anxiety, he went towards 
 the room. 
 T
 
 290 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 Zenobia, in the same clothes she had worn yester- 
 day, and with only her dress unbuttoned, was lying 
 on the top of her bed, looking towards the door with 
 the same keenness of expectation as she had gazed 
 towards it on the day when he had found her lying 
 here with her new-born baby beside her but not 
 with the same face oh, my God, no not with that 
 face ! Even physically these drawn and discoloured 
 features were scarcely to be recognised as the same. 
 This lividly yellow skin, these fearfully sombre eyes, 
 these contracted muscles of the forehead, did they 
 belong to the happy mother of that day? To Gregor 
 it seemed almost impossible, and as though arrested 
 by some physical force, he stood still at two paces 
 from the bed. It was not Zenobia's sobs he had 
 heard, then. In a corner, with her apron over her 
 head, Jusia, the servant-girl, was uttering those 
 muffled howls which had carried his thoughts back 
 to the catastrophe of last year. He noted the cir- 
 cumstance without looking in that direction. No, 
 Zenobia was not weeping ; she had even attempted 
 to smile as he appeared in the doorway a smile that 
 was fearful to behold. Now she stretched towards 
 him a hand in which the fingers curled irresistibly 
 towards the palm, as they do in moments of physical 
 pain. 
 
 ' At last ! ' she said, and the words came out 
 thickly, as though her tongue were lamed or swollen. 
 ' Come here, Gregor ! I have done it ; you will have 
 to believe me now.' 
 
 The wild light which had flickered up in her eyes
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 291 
 
 died down suddenly as she hid her face in the 
 pillow. Under the blanket which Jusia had flung 
 over her, Gregor, rigid on the spot where he had 
 first stood, could see her body writhing. When she 
 looked up after a minute, her face was more ghastly 
 than before, and her voice weaker. 
 
 ' You said that if on my deathbed I should still 
 declare I was innocent, you would believe me ; well, 
 this is my deathbed, and I tell you again that I am 
 innocent. Is that enough ? ' 
 
 ' But you are not dying ! ' cried Gregor, awaking 
 out of his stupor with a rebound of his whole being. 
 ' You cannot be dying ! ' 
 
 ' I know I am. Look at that glass beside the 
 bed ; smell it, if you like.' 
 
 A tumbler, clouded with milk, and with a few 
 drops of milk still at the bottom, stood beside the 
 bed. Gregor took it up automatically. 
 
 ' It smells bad.' 
 
 ' And it did not taste good,' said Zenobia, with a 
 grimace that was partly of pain. ' But there was no 
 other means of getting what I wanted. It took 
 fifteen boxes of matches to make the concoction ; I 
 did not want to begin a second time.' 
 
 ' Phosphorus ! ' said Gregor incredulously, as the 
 name of the smell which had puzzled him came 
 suddenly to his lips. ' You have drunk poison ? ' 
 
 She nodded in silence, turning her face again to 
 the pillow. 
 
 ' Unhappy woman ! But there is still time, the 
 doctor! Why did I not bring the doctor with
 
 292 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 me? The horse is still in the sledge where is 
 Iwan ? ' 
 
 He stormed from the room, and was back again, 
 breathless, in two minutes. Zenobia still lay as 
 before. 
 
 ' It is too late for that now,' she said with a 
 dreadful calmness. 
 
 His clasped hands went up to his forehead. 
 
 ' But Zenia, Zenia, you repent ? say only that 
 you repent ! Think of the sin ! ' and he threw himself 
 upon the bed, grasping her hands and dragging 
 them to his breast, as though the better to be able 
 to look deep into her eyes. The husband, the lover, 
 the doubter, they were all dead in him at this 
 moment, and only the priest remained alive, and 
 saw before him a sinner whom perhaps a few 
 minutes separated from eternal damnation. 
 
 ' You repent, do you not ? ' 
 
 1 How can I repent ? There was no other way.' 
 
 In the pressing need of the moment, he shook the 
 hands he held, almost roughly. 
 
 ' Say that you repent ! ' 
 
 But Zenobia's eyes, harder than ever he had seen 
 them, looked back into his, unmoved. 
 
 ' It is you who should repent ; it is you who have 
 killed me with that cruel doubt. You wanted to 
 be a better priest than the others, and you have 
 been a worse one, because you did not understand 
 how to trust. But now you cannot escape me I 
 have forced you to believe, say, have I not ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes I believe of course I believe ! ' he said
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 293 
 
 almost unthinkingly. The question of belief or dis- 
 belief seemed all at once to have become entirely 
 unimportant, a mere trifle of detail which shrunk 
 to nothing before the horror of the thing that was 
 accomplishing itself before his eyes. But was it 
 really accomplishing itself? It still seemed to him 
 hard to believe. Everything around him the very 
 furniture and carpets and bedclothes looked so 
 commonplace and so familiar as almost to pre- 
 clude the idea of anything so completely out of 
 the common ; even the smoke-stained face of the 
 old clock upon the wall, which Zenobia had brought 
 with her from her home, and even the patches upon 
 the carpet, which had been applied by her diligent 
 fingers, seemed to be looking at him with a reassur- 
 ing smile, as though they would say, 'Be quiet it 
 is not real presently you will awake!' It did not 
 seem possible that in this everyday frame, with so 
 little pomp and ceremony, and with so much sordid 
 and everyday detail, anything so terrible could really 
 be happening. 
 
 'And yet I am not quite innocent,' Zenobia was 
 saying, while a look of deep fatigue began to settle 
 on her face ; ' I will tell you all before I go to sleep 
 it is strange that I should feel sleepy now I did 
 not do it, but I thought of doing it. During those 
 weeks you know which my heart was very black. 
 I would have taken you from her if I could ; I was 
 even foolish enough to go to a woman who pre- 
 tended to sell love-charms ; but I could not get 
 myself to follow her advice; I hoped for something
 
 294 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 else, I did not know what ; there were moments 
 when I wanted her to die when I even prayed for 
 her death, and when it came I felt as though it was 
 I who had killed her with my prayers or my curses, 
 I did not know which. O Gregor, what a misfor- 
 tune to be able to love like that ! and I don't even 
 know why I have loved you so ; you were not worth 
 it, no, I see now that you were not worth it ! ' 
 
 Sunk on to his knees, with his face upon the bed, 
 Gregor neither moved nor spoke. The man in whom 
 spiritual pride had undermined charity, in whom an 
 earthly passion had killed heavenly love, felt too 
 deeply abased to utter a word. Surely, ah ! surely 
 this was the woman whom he ought to have loved, 
 this one and not the other. This was she whom 
 he ought to have honoured and held high, instead 
 of torturing her to death with that cruel doubt ! 
 
 What had become of that doubt he did not know 
 until late that night, when he found himself holding 
 vigil at the foot of the same bed, at the head of 
 which now burned two wax tapers, and where 
 reposed a stiff, white form. Until now his soul, 
 buffeted between a wild remorse and a yet wilder 
 rebellious upleaping against fate, had found no 
 moment to go to account with itself. Now only, 
 alone with the dead, he knew at last that when he 
 had said, ' I believe/ it had not been only with his 
 lips, but that he actually believed, fully and com- 
 pletely, without understanding, and without even 
 wishing to understand. The proofs which spoke for
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 295 
 
 her guilt were there the same as ever, but they had 
 abruptly lost their value. The truth was not there ; 
 but here upon this bed, pillowed side by side with 
 death, they belonged together inseparably, exactly 
 as Michal Skowron had said. 
 
 In the first hours after the accomplishment of the 
 catastrophe it had not seemed possible to escape 
 despair. If it had not been for the child, Gregor 
 would probably not have escaped it. It was that 
 wrinkled, red face that abruptly showed him the 
 only means of atonement still open to him that of 
 bringing up his son in the conviction of his mother's 
 innocence, so as to stand ready armed against the 
 calumny which could not fail to reach the ears of 
 the man. From his cradle he should learn to revere 
 her memory as that if not of a saint, yet most 
 assuredly of a martyr.
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 ZENOBIA had said there was 'no other way,' 
 but she had been wrong, for there was, after 
 all, another way ; a way so simple that human per- 
 spicacity had blundered past it, leaving its detection to 
 what some people call Providence, and others Chance. 
 
 Two months had not yet passed since the sensa- 
 tional death of Zenobia Petrow, when in one of the 
 grim, bare-walled spaces of the Landesgericht at 
 Lussyatyn, the whole anything but complicated 
 mystery came abruptly to light. It was not so 
 much the curiosity awakened by this second remark- 
 able death as the indiscretions of the old grave- 
 digger at Hlobaki which had set the stone rolling. 
 The desecration of a grave was an idea so pro- 
 foundly offensive to the popular religious taste, that 
 the moment Pawel Prokup began to grow loquacious, 
 as he was apt to do in his cups, the alarm caught 
 like fire on dry wood, and grew and spread, until 
 the authorities found the necessity of an investiga- 
 tion pressed upon them. 
 
 The desecration once verified, there unavoidably 
 arose the question of motive; thence a further inves- 
 tigation, and the plain proof of poison having been 
 used. By whom ? The popular mind thought it 
 
 296
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 297 
 
 knew, and also that the culprit had put herself 
 beyond the reach of Justice. But Justice herself has 
 a habit of at least attempting to form her own con- 
 clusions. A lengthy examination of all the persons 
 concerned was the only means at her command, and 
 among those persons was Hania, the servant-girl 
 still attached to the widowed Popadia's household. 
 
 Until this moment no evidence of any interest had 
 been elicited, or rather, everything had appeared to 
 bear out the popular assumption. 
 
 ' You are quite certain that your mistress never gave 
 you rat-poison to use,or perhaps fly-poison, to put upon 
 a plate ? ' the officiating functionary asked, severely 
 fixing the girl through his gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 
 Hania, despite her evident nervousness, was quite 
 certain of this. 
 
 ' And you declare that Zenobia Petrow, then 
 Zenobia Mostewicz, was aware that Ursula Adamicz 
 sold white powders which could kill ? ' 
 
 ' She was aware of it.' 
 
 ' Through whom ? ' 
 
 ' Through me,' murmured Hania, casting a terri- 
 fied glance towards the Popadia, who having under- 
 gone a similar interrogatory, had taken a seat in the 
 background of the room. It was evident that neither 
 time nor catastrophes had diminished the terror of 
 her mistress, in which Hania chronically existed. 
 
 'And Zenobia Mostewicz visited Ursula Adamicz ?' 
 
 ' I think she did ; I am not sure.' 
 
 1 Did she ever send you to fetch anything from 
 Ursula Adamicz ? ' 
 
 ' No, never.'
 
 298 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 ' But you were seen entering the hut,' remarked 
 the inquisitor, with a sharper glare of his spectacles. 
 
 Hania's pink doll's face became scarlet. 
 
 ' She did not send me.' 
 
 ' Then you went on your own account ? ' 
 
 Hania pulled desperately and in silence at her 
 woollen gloves. 
 
 ' I warn you that by any prevarication you are 
 exposing yourself to suspicion. If Zenobia Moste- 
 wicz did not send you, and you did not go on your 
 own account, then why did you go ? ' 
 
 ' Because I was sent by the other one,' blurted 
 out Hania, with another deprecating glance towards 
 her mistress. 
 
 Among the attending functionaries there was a 
 stir, slight but significant. 
 
 ' Which other one ? ' 
 
 ' Panna Wasylya.' 
 
 ' What did she send you for ? ' 
 
 ' For a powder for her face. She had got a rash, 
 and had tried everything for it, and when I told her 
 that Ursula Adamicz sold beauty powders which 
 made the face beautiful in a few days, she would 
 have some at any price, but no one was to know it ; 
 so she gave me money, and I had to go in secret.' 
 
 Every one had drawn a little nearer now ; even the 
 clerk who was taking down the evidence stopped 
 writing to stare at Hania, while upon her chair in 
 the background Justina Mostewicz stiffened suddenly 
 into an attitude of close attention. 
 
 ' And what was the powder like which you 
 brought ? '
 
 THE SUPREME CRIME 299 
 
 ' Quite white, and it tasted bitter, for I put some 
 on my tongue.' 
 
 ' And Wasylya Mostewicz took it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, she took all the three powders at once, for she 
 hoped the rash would go before she went to church.' 
 
 The spectacled functionary leaned back in his 
 chair, passing his handkerchief across his brow, as 
 though after a severe exertion. 
 
 ' I think the investigation will give us little further 
 trouble,' he remarked, looking round at his col- 
 leagues, while gratified complacency began to 
 temper the severity of the official manner. ' Every 
 one knows what these " beauty powders " are, of 
 which, unfortunately, so free a use is made by our 
 ignorant populace. What made you not speak 
 before ? ' and with a fresh access of fierceness he 
 glared again at the agitated witness. ' What made 
 you keep your errand to Ursula Adamicz a secret ? ' 
 
 ' I had gone without leave,' said Hania, ducking 
 her head, almost as though to dodge a slap on the 
 cheek, or a box on the ear. 
 
 But her mistress was not thinking of her just then ; 
 her thin lips had parted in what looked like a smile 
 of triumph, and her brown leather face seemed 
 illuminated in a way which the foolish little servant- 
 girl could not in the least understand, as little as she 
 understood the reason of the sensation which she 
 saw about her, and all caused, it would seem, by 
 her evidence. After all, it had only been beauty 
 powders which she had fetched, and not that other 
 deadly powder of which she had told Zenobia. To 
 expect of her intellect that it should discover any
 
 300 THE SUPREME CRIME 
 
 relation between these two differently named wares 
 was putting too great a demand upon it. 
 
 Nor did she ever quite understand. To her and to 
 many other primitive minds the verdict of : ' Death by 
 an accidental overdose of arsenic/ said nothing, and 
 could not alter the fact that Ursula Adamicz sold 
 two kinds of powders, of which one claimed to dis- 
 pense beauty, and the other death. 
 
 Among those who understood was Hypolit, and 
 he did so with a sensation that was far more like 
 disappointment than remorse. So she was not 
 exactly the woman he had taken her for ! Might 
 not this discovery, made earlier, have succeeded in 
 cooling that passion whose bitter force had driven 
 her to her death ? 
 
 The greater part of the public made the same re- 
 mark : ' So, after all, the mother is right ! ' Whenever 
 the words reached Gregor's ears, his bowed head bent 
 lower. Yes, it was the mother who was right, not 
 because she was cleverer than the others, but simply 
 because she could believe no evil of her child. If he 
 had been able to love her as the narrow-minded 
 Popadia had loved, then he would have believed in 
 her, as the Popadia had done stupidly but faithfully, 
 without understanding and without doubting. 
 
 Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty 
 at the Edinburgh University Press.
 
 IY FACILITY