If Mrs. Tiralla believed that she would have reason to fear her husband now, she was mistaken. There was no necessity for her to steal away so that he should not see her, for he kept out of her way as well as everybody else's. They were all so fond of her, they hung on her words; she was a witch, and if he were to tell what he knew about her, who knows, perhaps she might do something worse to him? He was terrified of her in secret. When he heard her steps he would cower involuntarily; he preferred her not to come where he happened to be. He scarcely ate anything at meal time; even if he had been hungry he would not have ventured to partake of anything. The drink he took nourished him; he grew stouter and stouter, and his eyes were embedded in fat. He would only eat what the maid brought him, but he ordered her not to say anything to her mistress about it. "Very good, very good," she would answer, with a nod, but when she spoke to others about her master, she would point to her forehead and say in a sad voice, "Poor master! I think he drinks too much." Everybody said that Mr. Tiralla had become a drunkard. True, he hardly ever came to the inn now when the gentry were there, but he would drink in secret either at home or at the inn at a different time to the others. He avoided his former companions; they had not seen him for weeks. [Pg 219] Loud were the exclamations, therefore, when they caught him early one afternoon sitting all alone at the inn. They had made up their minds to take him by surprise some time, and now they had found him. "_Psia krew_, old fellow," cried Jokisch, "where have you been? You and I are neighbours, and still I never see you." The forester, who had been obliged to complain of Mr. Tiralla formerly, said to him in a friendly, reproachful voice, "I never meet you in the Przykop now." Schmielke and the gendarme also gave vent to their astonishment--why did Mr. Tiralla no more appear at the usual table? The priest, too, had been very much surprised that he never came to church either. That was not right, he really must go. He ought to pray twice as much as others, he the husband of such a pious and--there was a momentary pause and Mr. Schmielke gave a waggish laugh--beautiful wife. They poked each other in the ribs and laughed. Had he really not noticed anything?