a team I lent him a team; if any wanted harvesters I lent him harvesters; and now I want a match from you and ye will not lend it me.” And on this he cursed all his previous neighbourliness.
It was evident to every one without further demonstration that old Loyka’s mind was unstrung. Some in their compassion took one another by the hand, some began to show their pity by shedding tears. The mayor stepped up to him, and said, “Pantata, perhaps if you were to lie down you would get over it in sleep.”
But old Loyka replied instantly, “I thank you for your good counsel, excellent man. Do you think that I could lay me down in the chambers by the coach-house? I might. Why should I not? When the musicians and the tinkers and the kalounkar lay there, why should not I lie there also? But I know why I cannot lie there—because it would break my heart.” And at these words he struck his old breast with his fists as though he would break it in pieces.
Again the mayor seized his opportunity, and said, “You need not sleep there, pantata. Give me your hand; I will lead you to our house, and you can choose for yourself the bed which you like best.”
“True, that might be”, said Loyka, as if he came to himself a little. But immediately after this he added with a bitter laugh, “But think you sleep would visit me, there, either? If Loyka passed a night in the village outside his own estate, could he also sleep? He could not sleep? I thank you respectfully, kind neighbour. But hence I will not stir. If no one is willing to lend me a match, the devil is in it if I do not tarry here until the Lord God sends a fiery brand from heaven upon the farmstead of my son!”
And he raised his hands to heaven and cried, “O Lord God! a little of Thy fiery brimstone and Thy name shall be exalted for ever and ever.” He cried aloud like one of the prophets of the Old Testament, until horror encompassed every one who listened to him.
Then again he spoke, turning his face to his neighbours, “The Lord God heareth not, and that because I equally inflicted wrong upon my own father—only that I never drove him to the dog-kennel. Only when my own father has forgiven me and prayed for me, will the Lord God send down brimstone.” And he sobbed aloud.
