In Lipka things went on according to the everlasting ordinance. He that was predestined to death died; whoso was to be glad rejoiced; he that was fated to be sick confessed his sins, and awaited the end. And so, with the help of God, they continued to live on, from day to day, from week to week. Meanwhile, every Sunday, the band played loud in the tavern, and there they danced, quarrelled at times, or even came to blows: wherefore the priest chid them sternly from the pulpit, and many troubles came of it. Klemba’s daughter married, and they enjoyed themselves, dancing for three whole days; and—so folk said—Klemba had to borrow fifty roubles of the organist to pay the expenses. The Soltys, too, gave a fairly good banquet at his daughter’s betrothal to Ploshka. Elsewhere there were christenings, but not many now: numbers of women were expecting a child in spring. It was then that old Prychek died; after but one week’s sickness he died, poor man! at only threescore and four years of age. All the village went to his funeral, for his children had made a grand funeral feast. In certain huts they came together to spin, and so many girls and farm-lads were there that they enjoyed themselves perfectly, with plenty of laughter and gladness; especially as Matthew, now quite well again, was mostly present, and the life of the party wherever he went. The village was thus alive and humming with continual gossip and scandal; invectives now and then, and bickering, or only bits of interesting news. And from time to time there would come one of those _Dziads_ who had seen and could tell of many a place and thing; and such a one would stay with them for many a week. Or, again, a letter would sometimes come in from somebody’s boy in the army. Oh, then!—how it was read over, and commented on, and talked about, with lasses’ sighs and mothers’ tears, for whole weeks and more! What other topics were there? Well, Magda had taken service at the tavern; and Boryna’s dog had bitten Valek’s boy, who had threatened to bring an action; and Andrew’s cow, stuffed too full of potatoes, had choked and swollen so that Ambrose had to slaughter her; and Gregory had borrowed a hundred and fifty roubles of the miller and given a meadow in pledge for the sum; and the smith had bought a couple of horses, a fact that made folk wonder very much; and his Reverence had been ill for a whole week, a priest from Tymov coming to take the services in his place. They talked of thieves besides; old twaddling women babbled of ghosts; much was spoken about the wolves that were said to have killed some of the manor sheep; about household matters besides, and happenings in far-off countries, and I know not what more—beyond telling or remembering. And always there was something new, to make the day and the long evenings full of interest.