Roch, on his knees, held the lantern, praying fervently the while; but the patient smiled—a faint tearful smile, as when an orphan babe, abandoned afield, knows only that his mother is not there, not that she has forsaken him, and enjoys the grass waving over his head, and the sunbeams, and stretches out his hands to the birds that fly past, conversing with all around him after his fashion: even so did he feel now. He was at ease, without pain and in comfort; so cheerful that he thought no whit of his ill, but felt secretly rather proud of himself. How sharp he had ground the ax! how well he had placed the limb on the threshold, and—one blow not sufficing—struck a second with all his might! And now the pain was all gone; so of course he had succeeded.—Oh, if he were but a trifle stronger, he would not lie rotting on that pallet any more, but be up, and go to the wedding ... dance even—and eat a morsel, for he would fain eat! “Lie you still, and do not budge. I will tell Yuzka, and you shall have something to eat presently.” So said Roch, patting his cheeks; and he went out into the yard with Ambrose. “He will drop off ere morning—fall asleep like a little bird: there’s no more blood in him.” “Then, while he is conscious, the priest must be sent for.” “His Reverence has gone to spend the evening at the manor-house at Vola.” “I’ll go and tell him: there must be no delay.” “Five miles on foot and through the forest! You would never be in time.—No: the carts of those guests here who leave after supper are ready; take one and go.” They got a cart on to the road, and Roch seated himself. “Do not forget Kuba!” he called out as he started: “Have a care of him!” “Yes, yes, I shall remember, and not leave him by himself.” Nevertheless, he did forget him almost directly. After telling Yuzka about the eatables, he went back to supper, and applied himself so close to the bottle that he very soon remembered nothing at all.... Yuzka, being a kind-hearted little girl, at once brought him all she could get, piling it up on a dish, with half a quart of vodka. “Here, Kuba, is something for you, that ye may eat and enjoy yourself.” “God bless you!—Sausage it is, I fancy;—a delightful smell!” “I fried it for you, that you might find it more savoury.” She put the dish into his hands, for the stable was dark. “But drink of the vodka first.” He drained the glass to the last drop. “Will you sit with me a little? I feel lonely here.” He broke the food, bit and chewed it—but could swallow nothing. “Are they in good spirits over there?” “Oh, yes! and so many people! I never saw more company in all my life.” “Of course, of course,” he said, proudly; “is it not Boryna’s wedding?” “Yes; and Father is so pleased ... and always going after Yagna!” “Indeed, for she is so beautiful—as fair to see as a Manor-house lady any day.” “Do you know, Simon, Dominikova’s son, is taken with Nastka!”