When Malka took her basket and the remains of the untasted dinner, some of the men who were loading sand said, “Poldik wishes us to tell you that to-morrow he will not require dinner.”
Malka at these words felt somewhat conscience-stricken, but she soon recovered herself when the waterman said to her, “Anyhow, bring the dinner, and to-morrow we will have another trip in my skiff.”
This time, at all events, Malka made every effort still to overtake Poldik; perhaps she felt that she was bound to excuse herself, even though she could not wholly exonerate herself from suspicion. Poldik for once seemed not to be driving scavenger’s horses, nor himself to wear the buskin of a scavenger—he had vanished, and there was not a trace of him.
When Poldik came home that evening Malka prepared to visit him at the stables, and there to have the quarrel out which, to tell the truth, was not yet well begun. But Poldik had no sooner covered up his horses for the night than he vanished from the stable and the house, so that not a single trace of him remained, and Malka did not tarry for him.
And when she brought dinner for Poldik on the following day, she neither found him by the high wall nor at the beach at Naplavka. “Tis true the jolly waterman was waiting there with the skiff, and invited her with looks and words and nods and smiles to seat herself beside him, for he had long waited. But Malka turned aside, and went back through those streets in which she thought she might perhaps meet Poldik. She did not meet him, but seeing his vehicle at the ale-house where he frequently stopped, and in which his comrades often took their half pint, she followed him into the house and placed his dinner beside him on the table.
“Pray, what do you want here”, said Poldik gruffly, just as when he meant to swear at his horses.
“I am bringing dinner for you, Poldik, dear”, said Malka, and attempted to set all to rights with a smile.
“What is the good of bringing dinner to an ale-house”, said Poldik in reply.
But Malka paying no attention to this objection, none the less placed the dinner on the table, and bade Poldik to eat.
“What is the good of bringing dinner to an ale-house”, repeated Poldik gruffly, and so saying he tipped over everything that was on the table, so that Malka’s proffered gift, knives, spoons, and broken crockery rolled in a pretty hash upon the floor.
