There was dead silence through the room for a time. All were pondering over that strange fantastic story. Some of the girls—Yagna, Yuzka, and Nastka amongst them—stealthily brushed their tears away; for their emotions had been strongly excited, both by the doom of Christ, and by the part played in it by the dog Burek. Also, the very fact that there had been a dog upon earth better and more faithful to our Lord than men were, gave them all much matter for reflection. Slowly, and at first under their breath, they began to make various comments upon so wonderful a Divine ordinance; when Yagustynka, who all the time had listened with great attention, lifted up her head, and said with a sneer: “Fiddle-de-dee, fiddle-de-dee!—One fable and two make three! I’ll tell you a far better tale: how a man made an ox. “‘Of old the steer, Not the ox, was made; But a man took a blade— Lo, the ox is here!’ “My tale is at least as true as Roch’s,” she said, with a burst of laughter. Those about her laughed likewise, and presently the room was full of jokes, and funny sayings and tales of all sorts. “Ah, there’s nothing that Yagustynka does not know!” “She has learned, she has learned; has she not buried three husbands?” “Oh, yes: the first taught her in the morning with a whip; the second at noon with a strap; and the third in the evening with a cudgel!” Rafal cried. “And a fourth would I take, but not you: too stupid a hobbledehoy for me!” Here one of the young men observed: “As our Lord’s dog could not do without men, so women cannot do without beating: the want of that is what makes Yagustynka so spiteful.” “You’re a fool,” she retorted, with a fierce snarl. “Just you take heed no one sees you, when you steal your father’s corn for Yankel; let widows alone, they are beyond your understanding!”—Everyone was silent, fearing lest she might, in a fit of anger, tell all she possibly might know. Indeed, she was a most stiff-necked woman, who held her own opinion on every matter, and would often utter such words as made men’s flesh creep, and their hair stand on end. She had respect for no one, not even for the priest and the Church. His Reverence had more than once admonished her, but without effect: nay, she even talked about his rebukes in the village. “Oh, without any priest we can all manage with God, if we are but honest folk!—Let him rather take more heed of his housekeeper: she is with child for the third time, and will soon be dropping it somewhere, as she did before.” Such was her character. When they were about to separate, the Voyt came in with the Soltys, giving orders that the peasants should go next day to work at repairing the road by the mill: it had been damaged by the rains. No sooner had the Voyt come in than he exclaimed, stretching out both arms: “Why, the old boy has invited all the prettiest girls in the village!” And so he had: all were of the best stock, and robust and blooming.