It was either the seal of death on his forehead, or possibly other and deeper reasons, which gave his face its particular expression. I said before that it was the face of a very handsome man, and I ought to add that it also expressed that gentleness and tenderness which belongs essentially to feminine beauty, and that it was stamped with indescribable sadness. He varied a good deal in his behaviour; his way of expressing himself and his manners frequently betrayed the influence of the surroundings in which he had been living for long past. Frequently--though not always--he could control himself, however, and then there appeared on his face a new sign of the manhood not yet completely crushed--namely, a blush of shame at his present position. The shoemakers, as became busy men, did not even move on their stools when I entered. I therefore took off my things and brushed away the hoar-frost in silence, and it was only when I went up nearer to them that they both raised their bent heads, welcoming me with a friendly smile. As he was holding his pegs in his teeth, Pan Józef was able to offer me his hand, dropping it again immediately with a mechanical movement, and murmuring something indistinctly. Horodelski, after giving his greeting, looked at the heel, still unfinished, and, setting the boot on the ground, exclaimed with a sigh: "Well, that's finished!" This was his favourite expression. "What's finished?" I asked, however. "Everything," came the equally stereotyped answer. "Except the heel," Pan Józef muttered, taking the last peg from his teeth. "It's possible the heel may get done too--that is, of course, if I don't leave this cursed ruin and go back to the church clerk," Horodelski answered quickly. "Are you uncomfortable here, or what's up?" chaffed Pan Józef. "The Lord be praised, it's a good workshop, there are enough tools--and rooms, too; if you like, you can dance a quadrille." But Horodelski did not listen, and continued: "Yes, it may very possibly be that I shall give up shoemaking, if only for as long as I stay with the clerk. I shall leave it just because this shoemaker has made it as clear as day to me that I am no good at my trade, and can only be assistant to a bungling clerk." Pan Józef tittered, highly pleased, and was just preparing to answer suitably, when a grave bass voice interrupted him. "You may go to the clerk or not, but you'll never be a shoemaker." The bass voice came from a dark corner of the same room. I therefore looked more attentively in that direction. On a low plank bed, with his head bent forward, and emptying his pipe, sat a stalwart peasant, known as Bartek the Shepherd. "Why not?" I asked, greeting the speaker. "Why not?" Bartek answered. "Because no one can escape his destiny. A dog can't become a bitch, nor a woman a man." "That is quite a different matter."