“I have been sent here to work.” And he showed her a slip of paper which he held in his hand. The woman was still looking with wonder at his strange dress and at the face so miserably pale and emaciated under the slight growth of beard. “The foreman is not at home,” she said at last. “He has gone down the mountain to Schottwien to get a drink of wine. Sit down here in the mean time, if you are tired.” And with one more look at the worn figure, she hastily took up her needle and thread again, suddenly remembering the work in which he had interrupted her. The man said nothing, only dragged himself a few steps farther, and then sat down on the grass with every indication of complete exhaustion. There he lay, while the sun sank lower and lower. Not a sound disturbed the peace; only high up in the azure of the evening sky a vulture was circling, emitting a long, drawn-out cry. Suddenly they heard in the distance the singing of rough and coarse voices. The busy woman started: “Heavens, there they are,” she said to herself, “and the blouse is not yet finished.” Nearer and nearer came the singing, and before long there appeared a crowd of wild-looking fellows; in their midst, better dressed than the others, towered a man of Herculean size. He was probably fifty years of age; his broad and bloated face showed the effects of heavy drinking. Under the straw hat, which he had pushed far back, his gray hair hung in tangles. He had taken off his coat and thrown it over his left shoulder. In his right hand, that stretched, fat but sinewy, out of the loose sleeve, he carried a large basket, filled with provisions of all kinds. Two of the other men carried heavy sacks with potatoes on their backs. “Hello! Tertschka!” (Theresa) called out the man with the basket, in a hoarse voice; “give us some light in the house, so that we can take the provisions into the cellar.” But when he stood before her and noticed the blouse she was holding in her trembling grasp, he added harshly: “Well, is it finished?” “Not quite,” she answered timidly. “What? Not yet?” he shouted, and his face took on a bluish hue. “Did I not tell you that I needed it to-morrow?” “I have worked hard all the afternoon, but I can’t sew as fast as one who has learned to do such work.” The gentle yet firm tone in which she said these words seemed to enrage him all the more. “You always find some excuse!” he cried. “But I tell you, if I don’t have that blouse to-morrow morning something will happen to you!” Putting his basket on the ground, he made a movement toward the frightened woman as if he were going to strike her. Just then he noticed the man in the soldier’s coat, who was approaching timidly. “Who is that?” the furious man asked, dropping the hand that had been raised to deal the blow. “He has been sent here to work,” Tertschka said, breathing heavily.