But fresh advances, fighting, and marches took place during the days following, and I am glad to say that our hero regained his equilibrium. A certain fondness for the bottle, in which it is always possible to find pleasure and at times forgetfulness, remained with him after that night, however. For the rest, in battle he was more terrible than ever; victory followed in his wake. CHAPTER VI Some months had passed, and the Spring was now well advanced. The cherry trees at Pognębin were in blossom and the young corn was sprouting abundantly in the fields. One day Magda, seated in front of the cottage, was peeling some rotten potatoes for dinner, fitter for cattle than for human beings. But it was Spring-time, and poverty had visited Pognębin. That could be seen too by the saddened and worried look on Magda's face. Possibly in order to distract herself, the woman, closing her eyes, sang in a thin, strained voice: Alas, my Jasieńko has gone to the war! he writes me letters; Alas, and I his wife write to him,--for I cannot see him. The sparrows twittered in the cherry trees as if they were trying to emulate her. She stopped her song and gazed absently at the dog sleeping in the sun, at the road passing the cottage, and the path leading from the road through the garden and field. Perhaps Magda glanced at the path because it led across to the station and, as God willed, she did not look in vain that day. A figure appeared in the distance, and the woman shaded her eyes with her hand, but she could not see clearly, being blinded by the glare. Łysek woke up, however, raised his head, and giving a short bark, began to grow excited, pricking up his ears and turning his head from side to side. At the same moment the words of a song reached Magda indistinctly. Łysek sprang up suddenly and ran at full speed towards the newcomer. Then Magda turned a little pale. 'Is it Bartek,--or not?' She jumped up so quickly that the bowl of potatoes rolled on to the ground: there was no longer any doubt; Łysek was bounding up to his shoulder. The woman rushed forward, shouting in the full strength of her joy: 'Bartek! Bartek!' 'Magda, here I am!' Bartek cried, throwing her a kiss, and hurrying towards her. He opened the gate, stumbled over the step so that he all but fell, recovered himself,--and they were clasped in one anothers' arms. The woman began to speak quickly: 'And I had thought that you would not come back. I thought "they will kill him!"--How are you?--Let me see. How good to look at you! You are terribly thin! Oh Jesu! Poor fellow!--Oh, my dearest!... He has come back, come back!' For one moment she tore herself from his neck and looked at him, then threw herself on to it again.