“His mother will forbid him. There are only three acres of land at Nastka’s, and ten mouths to feed.” “That’s why she keeps strict watch and drives them apart when she finds them together.” “Is the Voyt here?” “He is.—Talking a great deal, and—together with Ambrose—making the company laugh.” “And why not, being at so great a wedding, and with so great a man?—Do you know anything of Antek’s doings?” “Ah, I ran over to him at dusk, with cake and meat and bread for the little ones. But he turned me out, and threw the things after me. He is very resolute; and fierce. Oh, so fierce! And there is wailing and misery in their hovel. Hanka is always quarrelling with her sister, and they have well-nigh come to blows.” He made no reply, but breathed somewhat harder. “Yuzka,” he said after a while, “the mare!—I hear her moaning. Since evening she has been lying down: she must be near foaling-time, and ought to be looked after. Prepare a mash for her.—Hark how she moans! And I cannot help at all, so weak I feel—quite helpless!” He was worn out, and said no more for a while, seeming to be asleep. Yuzka rose and went out in a hurry. “Ces, Ces, Ces!” he called to the mare, as he woke suddenly. The mare uttered a low whinny, and tugged at her halter till the chain clanked again. “So then, once in my life at least, I shall eat and be filled! Aye, and you too, good dog, shall get your share: no need to whine.” He attempted once more to swallow some sausage, but quite in vain: it stuck in his throat. “Lord, Lord, such heaps of food ... and I cannot so much as eat one mouthful!” Yes, it was utterly useless: he could not. His hand fell powerless, and, still grasping the meat, he put it underneath the straw of his bed. “So much! Never so much yet! And all for nothing!”—He felt rather sore. “But let me rest a little now; and later, when I can eat, the feast shall begin.” He was just as unable afterwards, and slipped off into a coma, still holding the sausage, and unaware that Lapa was stealthily gnawing at it. Suddenly his senses returned.—The supper was over, and such a blast of music burst on his ears from over the yard, that the stable-walls vibrated, and the frightened fowls fell a-cackling on their roosts. The dance was in full and boisterous swing—and the laughter and the frolic and the fun. Again and again the trampling of feet resounded, and the shrill cries of the lasses pierced the night. At first, Kuba gave ear; but presently he became oblivious of all things. A drowsiness seized upon him, and carried him off into, as it were, a clangorous darkness, as though beneath swift swirling murmurous waters. But when the dance grew noisier, and the tumult and hubbub of the stamping heels seemed about to beat all to shivers, he stirred slightly: his soul peered up out of the dungeon where it lay; roused from oblivion, coming back from infinite distances, it listened.