It was so dark that the horse was all but invisible. The rain had abated a little, but the fog hung heavy and damp, and the wind blew and whistled above them, lashing the trees on the embankment which they were now going up. It was a hard ascent, the ground being both steep and slippery. “The cart is too full for one horse!” exclaimed a voice on the embankment. “Is that you, Antek?” “Surely.” “Then be quick; Hanka is expecting you.—But give us a helping hand now.” “Wait awhile: I must get down first.—It is so dark that you can’t see anything.” They were up the embankment in no time, for the helping hand had pushed so powerfully that the horse scrambled up at once, and only came to a halt at the top. “Thanks most heartily,” she said; “but, good God! you _are_ strong!” And she stretched out her hand to shake his. They were mute. The cart went on before them, while they walked on, side by side, unable to find words, and both of them strangely agitated. “Are you going back?” she asked in a low whisper. “I shall only go with you as far as the mill, Yagna; the water has made a nasty hole there.” “Very dark, isn’t it?” she said. “Are you afraid, Yagna?” he murmured, drawing closer. “Why should I be?” They were mute again, walking on shoulder to shoulder, side touching side. “How bright your eyes shine!... Like a wolf’s.” “Will you come to the Klembas’ on Sunday for the music?” “Will Mother allow me?” “Do come, Yagna, do come!” he entreated her, in a strangled husky voice. “Is it your wish?” she asked him softly, looking into his eyes. “Why, Lord! ’twas I ordered the fiddler from Vola, only for you; and only for you did I beg Klemba to let us have his cabin.” He spoke in a low tone; his face was so close to hers, and his breath came so quick, that she drew back a little, quivering all over with emotion. “Go now—they are waiting for you—someone may see us.—Go!” “Will you come?” “I will—I will,” she repeated, turning to look at him as he went away: but the fog had swallowed him up, and she only heard his feet, as they squashed away through the thick slush. Then an irrepressible shiver seized her; and yet it was a fiery blast that went through her heart and brain. She knew not what it was that had come upon her: her eyes were full of flames; her breath failed her; she could not still the passionate throbbing of her heart. Instinctively she stretched forth her arms as for an embrace: then stiffened herself, taken with so wild a fit of sudden shuddering that she could have cried out aloud. But she reached the wagon and, catching hold, gave it a forward push with great though needless violence. The cart creaked and lurched over, so that several cabbages fell out into the mud. But still she saw before her that face, and ah! those eyes, so bright, so full of ardent craving! “He is not a man, he’s a whirlwind,” she mused blankly. “Can there be such another in the whole world?”