She drew him into the middle of the frozen river. 'Stand here, Judas,' she cried, seizing him by the hands. 'Will you sell your land? Listen! Sell it, and God will curse you and the boy. This ice shall break if you don't give up that devil's thought! I won't give you peace after death, you shall never sleep! When you close your eyes I will come and open them again...listen!' she cried in a paroxysm of rage, 'if you sell the land, you shall not swallow the holy sacrament, it shall turn to blood in your mouth.' 'Jesus!' whispered the man. '...Where you tread, the grass shall be blasted! You shall throw a spell on everyone you look at, and misfortune shall befall them.' 'Jesus...Jesus!' he groaned, tearing himself from her and stopping his ears. 'Will you sell the land?' she cried, with her face close to his. He shook his head. 'Not if you have to draw your last breath lying on filthy litter?' 'Not though I had to draw...so help me God!' The woman was staggering; her husband carried her to the other bank and reached the stable, where the two farm labourers were installed. 'Open the door!' He hammered until one of them appeared. 'Clear out! I am going to put my wife in here.' They demurred and he kicked them both out. They went off, cursing and threatening him. Slimak laid his wife down on the warm litter and strolled about the yard, thinking that he must presently fetch help for her and a doctor. Now and then he looked into the stable; she seemed to be sleeping quietly. Her great peacefulness began to strike him, his head was swimming, he heard noises in his ears; he knelt down and pulled her by the hand; she was dead, even cold. 'Now I don't care if I go to the devil,' he said, raked some straw into a corner and was asleep within a few minutes. It was afternoon when he was at last awakened by old Sobieska. 'Get up, Slimak! your wife is dead! God's faith! dead as a stone.' 'How can I help it?' said the peasant, turning over and drawing his sheepskin over his head. 'But you must buy a coffin and notify the parish.' 'Let anyone who cares do that.' 'Who will do it? In the village they say it's God's punishment on you. And won't the Germans take it out of you! That fat man has quarrelled with them. Josel says you are now reaping the benefit of selling your fowls: he threatened me if I came here to see you. Get up now!' 'Let me be or I'll kick you!' 'You godless man, is your wife to lie there without Christian burial?' He advanced his boot so vehemently that the old woman ran screaming out along the highroad. Slimak pushed to the door and lay down again. A hard peasant-stubbornness had seized him. He was certain that he was past salvation. He neither accused himself nor regretted anything; he only wanted to be left to sleep eternally. Divine pity could have saved him, but he no longer believed in divine pity, and no human hand would do so much as give him a cup of water.