The peasants surrounded him in gloomy silence, fixing their burning eyes on him, and shuffling their feet impatiently. So menacing and full of stern resolution did they look that he was at a loss to know what to do, and merely stood wiping the perspiration from his bald head and casting frightened glances round the circle of stubborn, set faces. He realized that this was not only idle talk, but the beginning of something terrible. He sat down again on a bench, and took pinch after pinch of snuff to help himself to arrive at some decision. Then Jędrzej went up to him, and said solemnly: "You neither want to tell the truth nor to swear to it. So it's plain you are a party to those thieves!" The miller sprang up as hastily as if something close beside him had been struck by lightning, upsetting the bench as he did so. "Jesus! Mary! have I to do with thieves? You say this to me?" "I say it and repeat it!" "And we repeat it too!" they all shouted together, shaking their fists at him. Their heads were bent forward; their glances were like vultures' beaks, ready to tear. Attracted by the noise, Jadwiś burst into the room and stood petrified. "What's up here?" she asked anxiously. The peasants dropped their clenched hands, and began to clear their throats. "We don't want women here, listening and blabbing it all out afterwards," someone said angrily. "She'd better go back where she came from." "Look after the geese, and don't come poking your nose into men's business!" they shouted still louder. Jadwiś ran out of the room in a furious temper, slamming the door after her. Again Jędrzej stretched his hand forward, and said: "I tell you, miller, the time for trial and punishment has come!" "And for bringing order into the world!..." "And for weeding out wrong and planting justice!..." The words rang out menacingly, and again the peasants shook their clenched fists in the miller's frightened face. "Good God! what do you fellows want? What am I guilty of?" he gasped, terrified, looking round from side to side. But, without heeding him, Jędrzej began to speak quickly and in a low, hard voice which penetrated the miller like frost. "As he won't confess, he is guilty. Take him, and we will try him at the church.... Everyone who wrongs the people will be brought to a just trial, and be heavily sentenced. Take him, you fellows!" "Jesus! Mary! Men!..." the miller stammered in deadly fear, looking round distractedly, for the peasants all advanced towards him together. "Men!... How can I tell you?... I have sworn to it. They'll burn the house down or kill me if I say who they are.... Merciful Jesu! Let me be! I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you!" His voice quavered, for several hands had already seized him and were dragging him towards the door. It was some time before he was able to speak. He fell panting on the table. They stood round him, and someone gave him a little water to drink, while others said in a friendly way: