How she suffered, how she suffered! Not content with rating her soundly for the slightest shortcomings, with never a word of praise, he treated her just as if she were not the mistress of his house. It was with Yuzka alone that he took counsel about what was to be done, explaining what she did not understand, and ordering her to have an eye to everything. For days together, she did nothing but spin at home, almost distracted. She went to complain to her mother, who set herself to plead for her, but in vain. “She was mistress,” Boryna replied, “and did whatever she pleased, and lacked naught. But she has failed to act up to her position: let her now try something else! And, hark ye! tell her that, so long as I can move my limbs, I will defend what is mine, and not suffer myself to be a laughing-stock, or branded with the name of cuckold! Let her bear that in mind!” “But, good heavens, man! she has done you no injury whatever!” “Oh, if she had, I should speak and act otherwise! It is enough for me that she has had to do with Antek!” “Why, ’twas at the tavern ... in a dance ... in the presence of everyone!” “Oho! Only at the tavern? Indeed?” For he shrewdly guessed that at the time when he found her apron, she had been out to meet Antek. No, he was not to be talked over. His faith in her was gone, and his mind quite made up about her. At last: “I am,” he said, “a kind-hearted and a good-natured man: all know that.... But ‘strike me a blow with a whip, I at once hit back with a cudgel!’” “Hit the guilty, all right: but beware of hitting wrong. Every wrong cries out for vengeance.” “When I defend my right, I do no wrong.” “Aye, but find out betimes how far your right extends.” “Is this a threat?” “I say what I think. Ye are too self-confident: take heed. ‘Who to another gives an evil name, himself deserves the same.’” “I have enough of all your proverbs and your lectures!” Boryna angrily rejoined. Seeing the man’s stubbornness, Dominikova gave up the attempt, and did not try again. She hoped the storm would blow over and things take a better turn; but he did not for an instant swerve from the line he had taken up; he never wavered in his severity, and even tasted a grim pleasure in it. Sometimes, indeed, hearing Yagna weep of nights, he instinctively started up to go to her side—but, remembering in time, would walk to the window and look out. A couple of weeks elapsed in this way, without any change. Yagna was wearied out, melancholy, and so wretched-looking that she could scarcely bear to be seen by people; she was ashamed before the whole village, for everyone knew what was going on at Boryna’s. This cast a deep and mournful shadow on his home, and it became the abode of apprehension and of silence.