The smith then strode off amongst the people, stirring them up, calling them to take revenge, and laying unheard-of offences to Antek’s account; and his hearers, already greatly moved, were presently wrought to the very highest pitch of rage. Some began to cry that the incendiary ought to be seized, fettered, and taken to the police-court; while others, of yet more fiery mettle (those especially whose ribs had in days past felt Antek’s cudgel), were now looking for sticks, intending to drag him from his cabin and give him such a thrashing as he would remember to his dying day. The clamour grew, with cries, threats, curses, and a hullabaloo so great that the folk swayed hither and thither like a spinney in a gale, rolling to and from the palings of the enclosure, and preparing to pour out through the gate into the road. The Voyt came to pacify them, but without avail; nor did the Soltys and the elders of the village succeed any better. Their voices were lost in the uproar, and they were themselves swept away by the torrent. No one heeded what they said: everyone dashed on, tore along, and shouted with all the force of his lungs: the whole band, carried forward by a tempest of hate, appeared like men possessed. At that moment, Kozlova elbowed her way forward, vociferating: “There are two culprits: let both be dragged to the place of their crime and judged there!” The married women, especially the poorest of all, took up the cry with a hideous bellow and, with arms stretched forth, placed themselves by her side. The mob rolled on with the din of a raging torrent. The howling and shrieking grew as they went on, delayed by the narrow fenced road; they all pressed together, surging along, shrieking, shaking their fists, and lurched against one another, glaring with sinister glances; and a savage many-sounding voice, the cry of universal exasperation, burst from them as they hastened on, intent upon their purpose.—Suddenly those in front cried out: “The priest! the priest!—And with the Sacred Host!” At this the mob moved uneasily, as if held back by a chain—wavered, spread out upon the road, stopped, and broke up into little groups. A hush fell all at once upon them: they were struck speechless—fell on their knees and, kneeling, bowed down their heads. It was indeed the priest, coming out of the church, and bearing with him Christ’s Body—the holy viaticum. Ambrose walked on in front, ringing a bell and swinging a lantern. He went swiftly past, and presently, in the eddying snowfall, was seen only as a dim blur outside a frozen window-pane. Then they rose from their knees. “Going over to Filipka. She was so starved with cold in the forest yesterday that she has been scarce able to breathe since dawn. They say she will not hold out till night.” “He has also been called to Bartek of the sawmill.” “What’s amiss with him?”