The people stopped. Someone ran to fetch the Vicar. "Or shall we put off carrying out the sentence till to-morrow?" the miller proposed. Thumping their sticks together, the crowd shouted: "Let's have done with them!... No need for such scoundrels to have a priest!... Let them die like dogs! No delay, or else they'll run and fetch the Cossacks! Kill them off!" But the Gajdas, feeling that this brought a possibility of rescue, began to implore despairingly: "Men, have pity! Send the priest; we want to make our confession! The priest!..." Unfortunately for them, the priest was not at home. He had gone away somewhere the previous evening. "Then let them make their confession before all the people," someone said. "Very good! Yes, let them confess--and tell the truth!" the rest assented. Someone cut the ropes binding their hands, and set them on their knees before the church door. "Open the church! They are going to make their confession! Open it!" shouted many voices. But Jędrzej exclaimed: "No need of that! It's a sin to bring such scoundrels into the house of God; it's enough that we allow them to come on to consecrated ground. Quiet there!" he called to the dissatisfied women who kept on talking; and, bending over the Gajdas, he said: "Now confess; but only say the plain truth. The people have power to forgive you your trespasses." He knelt down beside them, and all the rest followed his example, sighing and crossing themselves. The Gajdas mumbled something, looking round meanwhile in all directions. "Speak up! Louder! They even want to cheat God!" the crowd shouted indignantly. The elder Gajda, who seemed to have lost heart completely, began to shiver, and burst out crying, confessing his sins through heavy sobs. A dead silence spread through the crowd; no one dared to breathe, or even cough; that pitiful voice, spreading through the darkness like a pool of blood, was the only sound besides the bell pealing overhead and the soughing trees. The people were awestruck, and their flesh began to creep. They beat their breasts in terror; here and there a moan broke from them; an icy fear penetrated them, for Gajda, while all the time throwing the blame on his son and the policeman, not only pleaded guilty to what he was accused of, but to many other even worse crimes.... When he had finished he prostrated himself with outstretched arms, striking his head on the threshold of the church door. His entreaties for mercy were so piteous that many people in the crowd began to cry also. "Now let Kacper confess!" the men howled. "Kacper! Get on, you blackguard! Be quick!" They began to beat and kick him, till he raised himself, exclaiming furiously: "You're blackguards yourselves! You want to murder innocent people! You're thieves and traitors yourselves!" He cursed and threatened them dreadfully, till the old man begged him to stop. "You'd better knuckle under, son. Confess; then perhaps they'll pardon you. Knuckle under!..."