The schoolmaster went up to the boy and told his mother to make room. She got up obediently and watched the old man breathlessly, with open mouth, sobbing now and then. Slimak peeped through the open window from time to time, but he was unable to bear the sight of his child's pale face. The schoolmaster stripped the wet clothes off the little body and slowly raised and lowered his arms. There was silence while the others watched him, until Slimakowa, unable to contain herself any longer, pulled her hair down and then struck her head against the wall. 'Oh, why were you ever born?' she moaned, 'a child of gold! He recovered from all his illnesses and now he is drowned.... Merciful God! why dost Thou punish me so? Drowned like a puppy in a muddy pool, and no one to help!' She sank down on her knees, while the schoolmaster persevered for half an hour, listening for the beating of the child's heart from time to time, but no sign of life appeared and, seeing that he could do no more, he covered the child's body with a cloth, silently said a prayer and went out. Maciek followed him. In the yard he came upon Slimak; he looked like a drunken man. 'What have you come here for, schoolmaster?' he choked. 'Haven't you done us enough harm? You've killed my child with your singing...do you want to destroy his soul too as it is leaving him, or do you mean to bring a curse on the rest of us?' 'What is that you are saying?' said the schoolmaster in amazement. The peasant stretched his arms and gasped for breath. 'Forgive me, sir,' he said, 'I know you are a good man.... God reward you,' he kissed his hand; 'but my Stasiek died through your fault all the same: you bewitched him.' 'Man!' cried the schoolmaster, 'are we not Christians like you? Do we not put away Satan and his deeds as you do?' 'But how was it he got drowned?' 'How do I know? He may have slipped.' 'But the water was so shallow he might have scrambled out, only your singing...that was the second time it bewitched him so that something fell on him...isn't it true, Maciek?' The labourer nodded. 'Did the boy have fits?' asked the schoolmaster. 'Never.' 'And has he never been ill?' 'Never.' Maciek shook his head. 'He's been ill since the winter.' 'Eh?' asked Slimak. 'I'm speaking the truth; Stasiek has been ill ever since he took a cold; he couldn't run without getting out of breath; once I saw it fall upon him while I was ploughing. I had to go and bring him round.' 'Why did you never say anything about it?' 'I did tell the gospodyni, but she told me to mind my own business and not to talk like a barber.' 'Well, you see,' said the schoolmaster, the boy was suffering from a weak heart and that killed him; he would have died young in any case.' Slimak listened eagerly, and his consciousness seemed to return. 'Could it be that?' he murmured. 'Did the boy die a natural death?' He tapped at the window and the woman came out, rubbing her swollen eyes.