What a beautiful day it was! At last the two let go of each other, and falling on the grass lay there and laughed. There was only a little bit of sky to be seen between the interlaced branches; they were quite alone. Then Rosa, summoning up her courage, said to the maid: "Do tell me, Marianna, I should so like to know what happens when a man says to a woman, 'I love you.' Does he kiss her then as I kissed you? And then does she kiss him as you kissed me? I should like to know it; please tell me." She folded her hands as she always did when she was praying. Marianna laughed. Why did Marianna laugh so? Rosa felt annoyed; the girl had no right to make fun of her. "Don't laugh," she said angrily, stamping her foot. "You'll find out what it's like when somebody says to you, 'I love you,'" said Marianna, hardly able to contain herself. How stupid the girl was still. "Nobody will ever say to me, 'I love you,'" whispered Rosa, bending her head, suddenly saddened. "I'm going into a convent. But, of course"--she jumped up, and opening her eyes wide spread out her [Pg 167] arms--"of course, He'll love me as I love Him." Passing from sudden sadness to brightness, she sang in a loud voice: "Pray to God for us, then shall it be, Rejoice, O Mary-- That we with Jesus heaven shall see." Marianna joined in, she knew the hymn. The maid's deeper voice mingled with Rosa's treble; they sang with great fervour: "Pray to God for us, O Mary." It sounded beautiful. The tree-tops ceased their rustling, the autumn wind stopped blowing; the Przykop had grown perfectly calm and was listening. Then the two went home hand-in-hand with their aprons full of moss. They had not spoken much more, for Rosa had grown quiet. When Marianna, who could not stand the silence any longer, had begun to tell a gruesome story about a servant girl who had once lived at Starydwór and had buried her child in the Przykop, Rosa had given her such a look that the talkative woman had held her tongue as though she had received a blow on her mouth. The late afternoon sun was shining on the roofs of the old farm when they reached home. Marianna had also brought a quantity of mountain ash with her, and Rosa at once sat down on the doorstep and began to make the wreath. First a bunch of green moss, then red berries, then green moss again; it grew rapidly under her practised fingers. Putting her head on one side and raising the wreath she eyed her handiwork with complacence. Just then her mother came past; her dress touched the girl as she sat on the doorstep. "Good evening, mummy." Mrs. Tiralla did not hear; she was like a woman [Pg 168] walking in her sleep, and had not noticed her child. She was enticing the poultry to come and eat. "Chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck." The birds came running, and in front of them all was a white hen, a very good layer.