It was a rainy September evening; the more the day declined, the heavier became the layers of clouds. Lower and lower they descended, torn and gloomy. Forest, hill, and valley, even the fence dissolved gradually into the grey veil. The heavy, persistent rain penetrated everything; the ground was full of it, soaked through like kneaded dough; the road was full of it, running with yellow streams; the yard, where it stood in large puddles, was full of it. Roofs and walls were dripping, the animals' skins and even human souls were saturated with it. Everybody in the gospodarstwo was thinking vaguely of supper, but no one was in the mood for it. The gospodarz yawned, the gospodyni was cross, the boys were sleepy, Magda did even less than usual. They looked at the fire, where the potatoes were slowly boiling, at the door, to watch Maciek come in, or at the window, where the raindrops splashed, falling from the higher, the lower, and the lowest clouds, from the thatch, from the fading leaves of the trees, and from the window frames. When all these splashes mingled into one, they sounded like approaching footfalls. Then the cottage door creaked. 'Maciek,' muttered the gospodarz. But Maciek did not appear. A hand was groping along the passage wall. 'What's the matter with him, has he gone blind?' impatiently exclaimed the gospodyni, and opened the door. Something which was not Maciek was standing in the passage, a shapeless figure, not tall, but bulky. It was wrapped in a soaking wet shawl. Slimakowa stepped back for a moment, but when the firelight fell into the passage, she discerned a human face in the opening of the shawl, copper-coloured, with a broad nose and slanting eyes that were hardly visible under the swollen eyelids. 'The Lord be praised,' said a hoarse voice. 'You, Zoska?' asked the astonished gospodyni. 'It is I.' 'Come in quickly, you are letting all the damp into the room.' The new-comer stepped forward, but stood still, irresolutely. She held a child in her arms whose face was as white as chalk, with blue lips; she drew out one of its arms; it looked like a stick. 'What are you doing out in weather like this?' asked Slimak. 'I'm going after a place.' She looked round, and decided to crouch down on the floor, near the wall. 'They say in the village that you have a lot of money now; I thought you might want a girl.' 'We don't want a girl, there is not even enough for Magda to do. Why are you out of a place?' 'I've been harvesting in the summer, but now no one will take me in with the child. If I were alone I could get along.' Maciek came in, and not being aware of Zoska's presence, started on seeing a crouching form on the floor. 'What do you want?' he asked. 'I thought Slimak might take me on, but he doesn't want me with the child.' 'Oh Lord!' sighed the man, moved by the sight of poverty greater than his own. 'Why, Maciek, that sounds as if you had a bad conscience,' said the gospodyni disagreeably.