“Go, then; what is it prevents you?” cried the priest, taking fire on a sudden. “Well may I go: what—what is there left to me here now?” he muttered, almost in tears. “You are simply talking nonsense. Others have not one bit of land: yet they stay on, and work, and thank God that they have work to do. You had far better settle down to do something, and not complain like a woman. You are strong and able, and have something to lay your hands to besides....” “Yes, indeed; three whole acres!” was the ironical reply. “And a wife and child, who belong to you too: do not forget it.” They were now in front of the tavern; the windows were all aglow, and from the road where they stood they could hear voices inside. “What! another drunken bout?” “’Tis the recruits who were chosen during the summer, drinking to keep their spirits up. Next Sunday the Russians will take them away to somewhere at the back of the world: so they are seeking comfort.” The priest had taken his stand near the poplars, from where he could look through the window, and see how thronged the place was. “Why, the tavern is well-nigh full!” he exclaimed. “They were to have a meeting and advise together to-day, about the forest clearing which the Squire has sold to the Jews.” “But he has sold only the half.” “Till we have agreed to the sale, not one bush shall be sold!” “What do you say?” the priest inquired, in a tone of anxiety. “We don’t give leave: that’s flat. Father would go to law; but Klemba and the others with him won’t have it. They forbid a single tree to be cut down; and if the whole village has to rise, rise they will—aye, and ax in hand, too. What is theirs, they never will give up.” “Merciful heavens! Pray God there may be no violence!” “No, no! only a few of the manor-folks’ heads split in two: that will be but justice!” “Antek! has anger made you mad? My good fellow, this is senseless talk!” He would not listen, but turned on his heels and vanished in the gathering dusk; while the priest, who heard the rumble of wheels and a mare’s whinny, hastened back to his dwelling. Antek passed by the mill on the other side, wanting to avoid going near Yagna’s hut. She was fast in his bosom: a festering wound of which he could not rid himself. Afar, the light shone bright from within her cabin. In there it was joyful. He stopped to look once more, were it but to curse her in his rage. And suddenly something fell on him like a hurricane, and tore him away. “She is my father’s now!—My father’s!”