Primeval and Other Times by Olga Tokarczuk

back to the beginning of the book and set out the brass figurines in front of him.
     
     
    THE TIME OF MISIA
     
    Misia noticed that the tall, fair-haired boy from the Boski family was always looking at her in church. Then, when she came out after mass, he would be standing outside looking at her again, and he kept on looking. Misia could feel his gaze on her, like an uncomfortable piece of clothing. She was afraid to move freely or breathe deeply. He made her feel awkward.
    So it was all winter, from Midnight Mass to Easter. When it started getting warmer, each week Misia came to church more lightly dressed, and felt Paweł Boski’s gaze on her even more strongly. At Corpus Christi this gaze touched her bare nape and exposed arms. To Misia it felt very soft and pleasant, like stroking a cat, like feathers, like dandelion fluff.
    That Sunday Paweł Boski came up to Misia and asked if he could walk her home. She agreed.
    He talked the entire way, and what he said amazed her. He said she was dainty, like a luxury Swiss watch. Misia had never thought of herself as dainty before. He said her hair was the colour of the dearest type of gold. Misia had always thought she had brown hair. He also said her skin had a fragrance of vanilla. Misia didn’t dare admit she had just baked a cake.
    Everything in Paweł Boski’s words discovered Misia anew. Once she reached home she couldn’t get down to any work. However, she wasn’t thinking about Paweł, but about herself: “I am a pretty girl. I have small feet, like a Chinese woman. I have beautiful hair. I smile in a very feminine way. I smell of vanilla. A person might long to see me. I am a woman.”
    Before the holidays Misia told her father she would no longer be going to college in Taszów and that she had no head for calculations and calligraphy. She was still friendly with Rachela Szenbert, but their conversations were different now. They walked along the Highway to the forest together. Rachela urged Misia not to drop school. She promised to help her with arithmetic. And Misia told Rachela about Paweł Boski. Rachela listened, as a friend would, but she was of a different opinion.
    “I’m going to marry a doctor or someone like that. I won’t have more than two children so I won’t ruin my figure.”
    “I’m only going to have a daughter.”
    “Misia, do stay on until graduation.”
    “I want to get married.”
    Along the same road Misia went for walks with Paweł. By the forest they held hands. Paweł’s hand was big and hot. Misia’s was small and cold. They turned off the Highway down one of the forest roads, and then Paweł stopped, and with that big, strong hand he drew Misia close to him.
    He smelled of soap and sunlight. At this point Misia became rather weak, submissive and limp. The man in the white starched shirt seemed enormous. She barely reached up to his chest. She stopped thinking. It was dangerous. She came to her senses once her breasts were already bare and Paweł’s lips were roaming across her belly.
    “No,” she said.
    “You have to marry me.”
    “I know.”
    “I’m going to ask for your hand.”
    “Good.”
    “When?”
    “Soon.”
    “Will he agree? Will your father agree?”
    “There’s nothing to agree. I want to marry you and that’s all.”
    “But …”
    “I love you.”
    Misia tidied her hair and they went back to the Highway, as if they had never left it.
     
     
    THE TIME OF MICHAŁ
     
    Michał did not like Paweł. He may have been good looking, but that was all. Whenever Michał looked at his broad shoulders, strong legs in breeches, and shining boots, he felt painfully old and shrunken like a dried-up apple.
    Paweł came to their house very often now. He would sit at the table and fold one leg over the other. With her tail tucked under, the bitch Dolly would sniff his polished boots and their tops made of dog skin. He talked about the business he was doing with Kozienicki in the timber trade, about the school for