The crows were cawing over his head as he endeavoured to find the path over the snow-clad fields. He could hardly see it, for there was only a very faint trace left of the cart that had taken the milk from Starydwór to Gradewitz early that morning. He shuddered as he wandered through the enormous white fields. It was true they were no more melancholy-looking at this time of the year than when full of turnips and ripe corn; but their uniform whiteness seemed to give them a larger and more desolate appearance. Even the hares, as they nibbled away at the few stalks that were left, and the birds of prey, [Pg 69] as they lazily flapped their wings in the direction of the Przykop, did not enliven their desolation; for the sluggish inertness of their movements, which enabled passers-by to approach them quite closely, proved only too clearly how very rarely they were disturbed. Was it because he was not warmly enough dressed that he trembled so? Böhnke put his hands to his face--ugh! how cold it was. His top-coat was certainly very thin, it was only meant for summer wear; but he really couldn't have put on that thick, rough coat he wore every day for school. He was wearing his best black coat and kid gloves; his fingers were quite numb. He would have liked to run, in order to get warm, but big lumps of snow clung to his boots like lumps of lead. When he came in sight of the trees in the low-lying Przykop, it was as though something were holding him back, and as though the wind were pushing him back so as to prevent him from going any further. And he was longing with all his heart to get to Starydwór as soon as possible. To the left lay the settlement--the distillery chimney reared its head in the air like a big white asparagus--and there Jokisch lived. But he would not live there much longer. When the land had been parcelled out and the settlers had come, he would go. Thank God! Böhnke was filled with a vague jealousy; they were neighbours, he and she, and he considered every neighbour dangerous. Jokisch was certainly a fine-looking man, and Böhnke felt firmly convinced that he also found Mrs. Tiralla very fascinating, in spite of all he had said to the contrary, for who would not? Perhaps that was the very reason why he had been so angry with her. Then the schoolmaster began to run. Who would [Pg 70] hinder him in getting to Starydwór as quickly as possible? There it lay. The old farm, which had been in the hands of the Tirallas for over a hundred years, had rather an imposing look in the distance. Not much was to be seen of the farmhouse itself--it was very low, as though sunk in the ground--but the barns and stables, all roofed with new, red tiles, formed a wall round the square courtyard in front of it, and the whole together constituted a very fine property. But what good was it to her if she didn't love her husband?