A few versts from the village, where the chimneys peeped out from beyond the snowy hills, they came upon the little cortege. The attendants, noticing something unusual in the look of it, stopped and talked to the Soltys.

'Look, Zoska,' said the latter to the woman who was standing by indifferently, 'that is your little girl.'

She approached without seeming to understand; slowly, however, her face acquired a human expression.

'What's fallen upon them?'

'They have been frozen.'

'Why have they been frozen?'

'Slimak drove them out of the house.'

'Slimak drove them out of the house?' she repeated, fingering the bodies, 'yes, that's my little girl, she's grown a bit; whoever heard of a child being frozen to death?... she was meant to come to a bad end. As G.o.d loves me, yes, that's my girl, my little girl--they've murdered her; look at her!' she suddenly became animated.

'Drive on,' said the Soltys, 'we must be getting on.'

The horses started, Zoska tried to get into the sledge.

'What are you doing?' cried her attendants, pulling her back.

'That's my little girl!' cried Zoska, holding on.

'What if she is yours?' said the Soltys, 'there's one road for you and another for her.'

'She's my little girl, mine!' With both hands the woman held on to the sledge, but the peasant whipped up the horses and she fell to the ground; she grasped the runners and was dragged along for several yards.

'Don't behave like a lunatic,' cried the men, detaching her with difficulty from the fast-moving sledge; she would have run after it, but one of them knelt on her feet and the other held her by the shoulders.

'She's my little girl; Slimak has let her freeze to death.... G.o.d punish him, may he freeze to death himself!' she screamed.

Gradually, as the sledge moved away, she calmed down, her livid face a.s.sumed its copper colour, and her eyes became dull. She fell back into her old apathy.

'She's forgotten all about it,' said one of her companions.

'These lunatics are often happier than other people,' answered the friend. Then they walked on in silence. Nothing was heard but the creaking snow under their feet.

CHAPTER X

The loss of his horses had almost driven Slimak crazy. Beating Maciek and kicking him out had not exhausted his anger. He felt the room oppressive, walked out into the yard and ran up and down with clenched fists and bloodshot eyes, waiting for a chance to vent his temper.

He remembered that he ought to feed the cows and went into the stable, where he pushed the animals about, and when one clumsily trod on his foot, he seized a fork and beat her mercilessly. He kicked Burek's body behind the barn. 'You d.a.m.ned dog, if you had not taken bread from strangers, I should still have my horses!'

He returned to the room and threw himself on the bench with such violence that he upset the block for wood-chopping. Jendrek laughed, but his father unbuckled his belt and did not stop beating him till the boy crept, bleeding, under the bench. With the belt in his hand Slimak waited for his wife to make a remark. But she remained silent, only holding on to the chimney-piece for support.

'What makes you stagger? Haven't you got over yesterday's vodka?'

'Something's wrong with me,' she answered low.

He decided to strap on his belt. 'What's wrong?'

'I can't see, and there's a noise in my ears. Is any one whistling?'

'Don't drink vodka and you'll hear no noises,' he said, spitting, and went out. It surprised him that she had made no remark after the thrashing he had given Jendrek, and having no one to beat, he seized an axe and chopped wood until nightfall, eating nothing all day. Logs and splinters fell round him, he felt as if he were revenging himself on his enemies, and when he left off, stiff and tired, his shirt soaked with perspiration, his anger had gone from him.

He was surprised to find no one in the room and peeped into the alcove; Slimakowa was lying on the bed.

'What's the matter'

'I'm not well, but it's nothing.'

'The fire has gone out.'

'Out?' she asked vaguely, raising herself. She got up and lighted the fire with difficulty, her husband watching her.

'You see,' he said presently, 'you got hot yesterday and then you would drink water out of the Jew's pewter pot and unb.u.t.ton your jacket. You have caught cold.'

'It's nothing,' she said ill-humouredly, pulled herself together and warmed up the supper. Jendrek crept out and took a spoon, but cried instead of eating.

During the night, at about the hour when the unhappy Maciek was drawing his last breath in the ravines, Slimakowa was seized with violent fits of shivering. Slimak covered her with his sheepskin and it pa.s.sed off.

She got up in the morning, and although she complained of pains, she went about her work. Slimak was depressed.

Towards evening a sledge stopped at the gate and the innkeeper Josel entered with a strange expression on his face. Slimak's conscience p.r.i.c.ked him.

'The Lord be praised,' said Josel.

'In Eternity.'

A silence ensued.

'You have nothing to ask?' said the Jew.

'What should I have to ask?' Slimak looked into his eyes and involuntarily grew pale.

'To-morrow,' Josel said slowly, 'to-morrow Jendrek's trial is coming on for violence to Hermann.'

'They'll do nothing to him.'

'I expect he will have to sit in jail for a bit.'

'Then let him sit, it will cure him of fighting.'

Again silence fell. The Jew shook his head; Slimak's alarm grew.

He screwed up his courage at last and asked: 'What else?'