'Have you ever stood talking to Steinmetz? But I have! Hurrah!--Drink! Who pays? I do!' 'You may pay, you drunkard,' sounded Magda's voice, 'but I will repay you! Never fear!' Bartek looked at his wife with glassy eyes. 'Have you talked to Steinmetz? Who are you?' Instead of replying to him, Magda turned to the interested listeners, and began to exclaim: 'Oh, you men, you wretched men, do you see the disgrace and misery I am in? He came back, and I was glad to welcome him as a good man, but he came back drunk. He has forgotten God, and he has forgotten Polish. He went to sleep, he woke up sober, and now he's drinking again, and paying for it with my money, which I had earned by my own work. And where have you taken that money from? Isn't it what I have earned by all my trouble and slavery? I tell you men, he's no longer a Catholic, he's not a man any more, he's bewitched by the Germans, he jabbers German, and is just waiting to do harm to people. He's possessed....' Here the woman burst into tears; then, raising her voice an octave higher:--'He was stupid, but he was good. But now, what have they done to him? I looked out for him in the evening, I looked out for him in the morning, and I have lived to see him. There is no peace and no mercy anywhere. Great God! Merciful God!--If you had only left it alone,--if you had only remained German altogether!' Her last words ended in such a wail, it was almost like a cadence. But Bartek merely said: 'Be quiet, or I shall do for you!' 'Strike me, hit my head, hit me now, kill me, murder me!' the woman screamed, and stretching her neck forward, she turned to the man. 'And you fellows, watch!--' But the men were beginning to disperse. The inn was soon deserted, and only Bartek and his wife, with her neck stretched forward, remained. 'Why do you stretch out your neck like a goose?' murmured Bartek. 'Go home.' 'Hit me!' repeated Magda. 'Well, I shan't hit,' replied Bartek, putting his hands into his pockets. Here the innkeeper, wishing to put an end to the quarrel, turned out one of the lights. The room became dark and silent. After a while Magda's shrill voice sounded through the darkness: 'Hit me!' 'I shan't hit,' replied Bartek's triumphant voice. Two figures were to be seen going by moonlight from the inn to the cottage. One of them, walking in front, was sobbing loudly; that was Magda; after her, hanging his head and following humbly enough, went the victor of Gravelotte and Sedan. CHAPTER VII