As he turned from side to side, his hand came in contact with the bottle; he pushed it away; but, violating the law of inertia, it thrust itself irresistibly into his hand; the rag remained between his fingers, and when he mechanically lifted it to his eyes in the half-light, the strange vessel leapt to his lips of its own accord. Before he was conscious of what he was doing, Maciek had pulled a long draft of the health-giving speciality. He gulped it down and pulled a wry face. The drink was not only strong, it was nauseous; it simply tasted like ordinary medicine. 'Well, that wasn't worth longing for!' he thought, as he stuffed up the neck of the bottle again. He resolved to be more temperate in future with a liquor which was not distinguished for a good taste. Maciek said a prayer and felt warm and calm. He remembered the home-coming of the gospodarz's family: they all stood before his eyes as if they were alive. Suddenly Slimak and Jendrek vanished and only Slimakowa remained near him in her unbuttoned jacket which exposed rows of corals and her bare white chest. He closed his eyelids and pressed them with his fingers, so as not to look, but still he saw her, smiling at him in a strange way. He hid his head in the sheepskin--it was in vain; the woman stood there and smiled in a way that sent the fever through his veins. His heart beat violently; he turned his head to the wall and, terror-stricken, heard her voice whispering close to him: 'Move up!' 'Where am I to move to?' groaned Maciek. A warm hand seemed to embrace his neck. Then his mattress began to ascend with him, he flew... flew. God I was he falling or being lifted into the air? he felt as light as a feather, as smoke. He opened his eyes for a moment and saw stars glittering in a dark sky over a snowy landscape. How could he be seeing the sky? No... he must have made a mistake; darkness was surrounding him again. He wanted to move, but could not; besides, why should he move, when he felt so extraordinarily comfortable? there was not a thing in the world that it would be worth while moving a finger for, nothing but sleep mattered, sleep without awakening. He sighed heavily and slept and slept. A sensation of pain woke Maciek from a dreamless sleep which must have lasted about ten hours. He felt himself violently shaken, kicked in the ribs and on the head, tugged by his arms and legs. 'Get up, you thief... get up!' a voice was shouting at him. He tried to get up, but turned over on the other side instead. The blows and tugs recommenced, and the voice, choked with rage, continued: 'Get up! I wish the holy earth had never carried you!' At last Maciek roused himself and sat up; the light hurt his eyes, his head felt heavy like a rock; so he closed his eyes again, supported his head and tried to think; immediately he received a blow in the face from a fist. When at last he opened his eyes, he saw that it was Slimak who was standing over him, mad with rage.