He stood alone in the silent courtyard; there was no light in the stables and sheds, the cattle made no sound. He felt oppressed. Did he dread the walk through the lonely fields? Oh, no, on the contrary he was able to breathe once more when he reached the open fields, and the howling wind threw a whole load of snow into his face and over his clothes. "Ah," he drew a long, trembling breath. But all at once he felt terrified. There came a long-drawn, shrill whistle from the Przykop, a quite peculiar whistle. No bird screamed like that, and no human being either. A shudder ran down his back; he was seized with a superstitious fear, which he could not shake off again in spite of his common sense and his education. That was the witch that whistled in the pitch-dark Przykop. And he made the sign of the cross as the peasants do when they hear the witch whistling, and spat on the snow that gleamed in spite of the darkness. When that's done, the witch has lost her power and you need not follow her. [Pg 81] CHAPTER V Rosa Tiralla had seen visions; but whether they were good or bad visions nobody knew. Marianna Sroka cried loudly when she brought the news to the village, and her lover, Jendrek, confirmed it with a nod. The Paninka had seen something, the Paninka was bewitched. Mr. Tiralla was deeply grieved about his Röschen, as deeply grieved as he could possibly be about anything. He had already been looking out for a husband for his little daughter--she would be fourteen next autumn, and a wife cannot be too young-and now she seemed only fit for bed. The strong man had never suffered from nerves--didn't even know what they were--but all sorts of things happened nowadays to alarm him. Rosa was so irritable that she cried if anybody spoke crossly to her. The doctor advised them not to treat her harshly, for she cried so bitterly that she became quite hysterical. And after the attack was over she was so feeble that she could not move a limb, and looked exactly like somebody who was going to die; so that her father in his terror used to say, "yes," and "my angel," "everything you like, my angel."--nothing but "my angel." And Röschen imagined that she was always surrounded by angels. She thought her father, Marianna, and Jendrek were angels, but especially she thought her mother one. Pan Böhnke was also an angel. He [Pg 82] often came to see her, and then he and her dear mother would sit by her bedside and talk to each other, and their voices would sound so soft and low that her eyes would close, and she would fall into a sweet sleep.