I laughed hearing these tales told by simple people. I often visited the old man's lonely retreat and liked to talk with him, sometimes for hours. In the autumn I would listen to the rustling of the old firs, looking at his face on which the smile had died for ever. Outside the window, on a sandy hill swarmed a mass of black rabbits, hopping in and out of their holes. Seeing all these things I felt myself change and my soul sink into melancholy brooding.
Amelia refused to see him and did not like to hear anybody mention him. I, on the contrary, spoke to him with pleasure, and after a few months I was under his spell so completely that I would believe anything he said.
One day at the end of September, just before sunset, I walked into the old man's house. The autumnal wind howled outside the walls while he sat, resting his head on his hand, watching his rabbits running all about the house. When he saw me he got up and said:
"It's curious, all this time I've been living on your lordship's estate I've got to know all the surrounding woods and have seen in them all kinds of trees, but scarcely any oaks. Only a couple of versts away did I find two trees of this kind, which were about a hundred years old, with a few young ones around them which must have grown from acorns sown by the wind."
"I haven't paid any attention to it," I said. "There are plenty of other trees which do just as well for the needs of the estate."
"Birch and elm are good to use, that's true, but is there a more magnificent sight than an oak grove? Those trees will grow for centuries - my advice to your lordship is to dig them up now, in the autumn, and plant them all on the hill I saw in the garden by the pond, where no tree has grown yet.
"It will be many years before they grow and I am sure not to live to see them tall and magnificent on that hill, for human life is too short."
He gave me a stern look which sent shivers down my back and as if taunting me, he repeated my words:
"Human life is short indeed. But why worry about it? Your lordship is still young, you have a strong constitution and will live to be a hundred. You will yet enjoy the shade of those oak trees with your friends. Throw away all those sad thoughts, Sir, you are the master and all should serve your interest."
I took his advice. The next day I ordered the gardener to go and ask the old man to show him the young oak trees and then take them to the park and plant them on the hill. The gardener hearing my order became frightened; his face went white and he said in a changed voice:
"Sir, why this strange idea? Oak trees do not blossom, they bear no fruit and no one gets any use out of them. Linden trees are best to decorate a park with. Surely it would be better to plant those on the hill."
"I don't need your advice," I said. "Do as you are told and do it quick."
"I have heard from old people that whoever sows or plants oak trees won't live to see out the year."
"And if I hear you repeat such nonsense ever again I promise you that you will earn five hundred lashes. Go, do as you are told."
The gardener, afraid to talk to me further, left in a state of anxiety and started looking for a chance to ask my wife if she could persuade me to give up my design. In the evening, when I left home for a short while, he came into Amelia's room and with tears in his eyes threw himself at her feet and told her the whole story.
When I returned in good humour she met me with these words:
"Why, Henry, this strange idea to plant oak trees in the garden? I can see neither need nor beauty in it. The poor gardener came to me very worried saying that it is the greatest misfortune to replant this tree, for it takes the strength away from those who look after it and so cuts their lives short. I know that superstitions grow from ignorance, but what right do we have to treat people cruelly just because they lack education? One has to find a gentler way to make them abandon their foolish superstitions. After all they are our brothers, and it's a grave sin to treat them unjustly."
"It seems to me," I said looking at her with anger, "you yourself are like this gardener. It's you who are trying to protect foolishness, but your protection is to no avail."
"Probably that cruel old man gave you the advice. Tell him to take the gardener's place and do it all himself. He does nothing but wander around the fields and woods all day.
"The men are mine, this is how I want it and so it will be."
When I said this tears poured from Amelia's eyes and she quickly went out to the other room.
The gardener, seeing that all his hopes were ruined, brought the young oak trees from the forest and planted them on the hill as I had instructed. Soon after he became melancholy. In vain others told him that oak trees had no influence on human life. He began to wither, his strength was fading and the following spring, just as the trees were sprouting their new leaves, he ended his sad life. After the gardener's death, when I told the old man about the superstitions of that simple soul and the weakness of his character, he looked at me, knit his brow as a sign of his contempt and said:
"So much the better, you have nothing to regret. You have many stupid people and have lost only one of them."
Soon, the old man's trickery put even greater strain on the harmony between me and Amelia. I intended to build a new wooden house and when I realised I was short of bricks for the foundation I went out in search of a good brickfield. Wandering about the fields I met the old man who said, pointing at the cemetery and the old chapel standing near the manor:
"What an ill-fitting place for a cemetery! All you can see from your window are wooden crosses and a chapel, what an unpleasant view! You are visited by many young friends and these crosses, always getting in the way, might make anybody gloomy and melancholy. I would advise your lordship to allot another place for the village cemetery, somewhere out of sight, behind the forest. The bricks from the chapel can be used for the foundations of the house and the place turned into an oatfield to cover any signs of human bones rotting in the ground."
I praised the old man's cultured taste, his scientific knowledge of human character and the secrets of nature. I sent for my men to raze the wooden crosses, gather the gravestones into a pile and, having pulled down the chapel, to carry the bricks to a site on the estate.
My serfs who gathered from all the surrounding villages pleaded with me vainly not to disturb those holy memories and the place where the remains of their parents and relatives lay. Equally vain were the vicar's attempts to prove to me that I was taking - nomen omen - a "grave sin" on my conscience; in vain did my neighbours accuse me to my face of betraying the customs of my ancestors. In the end Amelia, seeing that all the pleading and persuasion were falling on deaf ears, spoke to me greatly worried:
"Henry, this chapel and cemetery were in the same place during your father's and grandfather's lifetime. These crosses and graves never inspired terrible thoughts in them. They would often kneel there at sunrise or sunset to pray earnestly for their kinsfolk. It is a custom everywhere in these parts to build cemeteries in the open and near roads, so that people passing by may say a prayer for the dead. I'm sure it is that cruel man who gave you such a wicked thought, but remember that one day God will judge our deeds."
"It's none of your business," I answered angrily. "I know what I'm doing. The old man whom you call cruel, is laughing at this nonsense. You care too much about those who are long gone from this world."
And so I persevered in my stubbornness. In two days there was not a trace left of the cemetery, its bricks had been used for the foundations, and after a few months we all moved in to a new house. It was then that I began to notice in Amelia even greater changes. Her eyes and her face were constantly veiled with sorrow; she kept saying that she could see strange apparitions in the new house, that she dreamed terrible dreams and sometimes at midnight she could hear groans. Every morning and every evening she prayed, kneeling for hours, and her face changed so much that after the passage of a few weeks someone who had known her earlier might barely recognise her.
When I spoke to the old man about my wife's suffering he
looked at me, nodded and said:
"How little your lordship knows about the female character. It's nothing more than stubbornness and anger that she cannot rule her husband and do as she pleases. I could tell you a secret which I have discovered, but I fear to reveal it, or people will say that I'm destroying your marital harmony."
"But, pray, tell me, for who should be more concerned than a husband?"
"I am greatly obliged to your lordship for your goodness in granting a refuge to an old man, who on this earthly journey through life has gained all kinds of experience, and who has learned to look calmly and see all the secrets of thought and action. I shall tell you the secret then, the secret which I have kept in my mind for several months and have not spoken of to anybody - your wife's hair is alive."
"I have never heard of such a strange thing. What does it mean?"
"I shall tell you, Sir, and how I came to observe it. I remember once, you had guests in the house. The day was bright and quiet, and taking advantage of the weather you all went out for a stroll. Your lordship was deep in conversation with two elderly gentlemen, while your wife walked ahead, surrounded by the younger ones. As they talked to her they were constantly looking at her hair. When they came closer to the wood where I was hidden behind a tree I was very curious to see why they were eyeing her hair so. My keen eye sees far and I soon noticed that in the sunlight your wife's hair was moving both in her plait and all over her head. Ali, one thing you have to watch out for, Sir, for there are strange and wonderful charms in this world; the young will stare without understanding the force with which restlessness and passions flare up in their hearts."
"Is this possible?" I said surprised.
"Of course, Sir. I will tell you how to convince yourself in this matter. Not only is her hair alive, but there is also one hair in her plait which, when the sun is set and dusk covers the earth, cries all night until dawn. That is why she can sleep only for a short time and often wakes up and moans, and why she bursts out crying in the evening. My advice is this: when she is in the other room where she always says her prayers, stand close to her and keep your ears open. Or better still, listen closely in the stillness of the night, when the hair sings loudest."
I was very nervous and curious. I resolved to stay awake all night to find out the truth. In the evening, when Amelia lit a candle and went to the other room to say her prayers, I followed her. I tiptoed to the open door and, straining my ears, I heard a thin high buzzing, like a mosquito circling around her head. Then I withdrew the same way without waiting for her to finish her prayers.
I was still up after midnight, playing patience in a separate room, pretending I was trying to discover the fate of my various wishes and intentions. When it was silent and everybody was asleep I put out the candle and came into the bedroom like a ghost. Amelia lay in bed, moaning in her sleep. Moonlight was falling on the foot of the bed through the half open window, while from the bedhead came the buzz of a fly caught in a spider's web. I felt shivers running all over my body and I thought: "So that's how it is!" and for the rest of the night I could not sleep a wink.
Next morning I went to the old man and told him everything. "So now you believe me," he said, "I was right. But this is not the end of it. We need to find a way to make this live hair less attractive to the young folk. Order your wife to cut off her plait and bring it to me at night before the first cock-crow, and I will show you truly curious things, such as your eyes have never seen."
Amelia did not know, or even suspect our collusion and cruel intentions. When she saw me she asked in a quiet voice:
"What happened, Henry, that you didn't sleep last night? You were playing cards late, all alone at the table and in the morning you were gone."
"I could not sleep the whole night and in the morning I went out for a walk, but your crying hair gave me no peace even then."
"I don't understand this riddle, it's the first I have heard of crying hair."
"Yet our guests liked your moving hair."
"Speak plainly, Henry, I'm no good at guessing."
"I'll tell you clearly then: I want you to cut your hair, it's more proper for a married woman to have her head covered."
"A strange caprice."
"Strange, perhaps, but a just one," I said. "I do not wish to see you boasting of your wonderful plait which draws everybody's eyes to it with its magic power. If you want me to have any peace of mind be so kind and have your hair cut."
"I see now," said Amelia, "it is your peace of mind that matters." She called a maid, ordered her to cut her hair and, sobbing, left the room.
Just before midnight I took Amelia's plait and went to the old man's lonely house. From the light in the window I saw he was not asleep yet. I came into the house. He was sitting at the table leaning on his hands, apparently sunken in deep thought. The rabbits stirred and emerged from the corners of the room, their eyes aglow with a ruby-like fire. The old man got up and said:
"Has your lordship done as I advised him?"
"I have done all that you told me and I have brought you my wife's hair." Having said that I pulled Amelia's plait from my pocket and put it on the table in front of him.
Now you will see something strange," he said and took a huge wooden bowl, filled it with water and put a strand of the hair into it. He stood still for some time looking keenly into the bowl. The light on the table was burning low, as if dying out, while the moon came out from behind the black clouds and shone its pale light through the window. Soon the wind rose and the sigh of the surrounding firs broke the stony silence. I looked at the old man. It seemed that his lips, white like a dead man's, were moving, as if whispering something; fear came upon me and shivers ran down my spine. In the end he told me: "Come closer and see what is happening."
I looked into the bowl and beheld strange things. Living hair, writhing and darting in all directions, surged in the water like leeches. I watched in amazement for a long while. In the end he carried the wet hair,and the rest ofthe plait, out ofthe house and threw it into the river. And in the moonlight it seemed to me that all the hair, still writhing, swam on the surface of the water.
After this terrifying exercise he said: "You can rest assured, Sir, that this hair's mysterious power will no longer attract your guests' eyes."
My cruel behaviour made Amelia cry secretly for days; her health failed and she grew weaker by the day. She was unable to sleep and whenever she closed her eyes she would see figures rising from graves.
One day, just before sunset, a horrible incident happened. Amelia was sitting alone in the garden, but when the evening dusk began to spread and dew covered the grass and the air became cold and wet she decided to return to her rooms. The moment she stepped over the threshold she cried out in terror and fell senseless. Everybody ran to her and picked her up; there was not a drop of blood left in her face. She was laid in her bed and only after great effort did she regain her breath.
When she came to she said that in that moment the old man had shown himself to her in a horrible form, his eyes burning with a fire the colour of blood as he held a big knife in his hand, threatening her with death.
Seeing the extent to which her health was ruined and her nerves weakened I finally felt pity in my heart and immediately sent for a doctor.
Every day now messengers ran to the town with prescriptions, and all available medical remedies were used to consolidate her strength. A few days passed and the medicines had no effect; they brought no change for the better but made her weaker and her suffering grew even more severe.
Her parents, having learned about her dangerous illness, came to visit, but her wish, and the doctor's advice, was that she should continue her treatment in her parents' home, where perhaps her mind would be eased more quickly and the medicine be more effective.
I agreed and Amelia, with her mother and father, left my house, promising to return as soon as her health improved.
After three days I received a letter with a black seal which said:
"Yesterday at five o'clock in the afternoon Amelia ended her sad life."
When I read it, suddenly the hair on my head started moving and screaming horribly, and I was overcome by a terrible fear. I realised then what ill fortune this old man had led me to. I grabbed a loaded pistol and ran to his house with the intention of killing him ... The moment I opened the door a huge flock of bats flew out of the empty room, and amid a terrifying squeal spread out above the roof and the trees; the old man and his rabbits had disappeared without trace.
I abandoned my house. I was too scared to live in it, too scared to come out and see the hills, the woods and meadows, for wherever I looked my eyes saw the black, satanic figure of the cruel old man.
"Here, doctor, is the story of my life."
After a short silence he put his hand on his head and looking into the mirror said: "Even now I can feel my hair moving and screaming. Do you know then how to cure my misfortune?"
Trying to offer some consolation the doctor invited him for a visit and gave him his address. Shortly afterwards we left the inn, while he stayed there. Two days later I departed from Witebsk and have never seen him since.
After the defeat of the Bar Confederacy,' which swallowed even the meagre patrimony I had inherited from my ancestors, my position was critical. As the losers we could not expect any favour from the victors and I would no doubt have ended up eating bread and salt in some noble house were it not for Kayetan Soltyk, the good bishop of Cracow, who remembered we had some blood in common, my mother being de domo Soltyk. This great man, blessed be he for ever, helped me in my need, brought me into his fold and in his grace gave me a little village which feeds me and clothes me to this very day.
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