“True it is, though, too true, that our dwelling is like a pigsty!” she muttered, looking about the room.—But _there_!... There they had a floor, and the walls were whitewashed, and all was warm and clean, and everything was in abundance.... And the work there, was it much?... Yuzka washed the things after dinner; Yagna spun, or looked out of the bright frostless windows.... What did she need, that she had not?... All the corals of Boryna’s deceased wives were hers now; and petticoats, and kerchiefs, and linen in plenty. She had not to trouble, not to earn anything, and could eat her fill of fat things! And Staho had said, moreover, that Yagustynka did all the work for her; that she lay in bed till broad daylight, and had tea for breakfast, because, forsooth, “potatoes did not agree with her!” ... And the old man did nothing but make love and fondle that woman as if she were a little child.... The thought roused a storm of rage in her; she started up from the chest she sat on and shook her fist. “Oh, the spoiler, the harpy, the wanton, the trull!” She screamed so loud that old Bylica, dozing close to the fire-place, started up in alarm. She was calm in an instant. “Father, pray cover the potatoes with straw, and then heap the mound with snow: there is going to be a hard frost,” she said, and returned to her accounts. But somehow the old man’s work did not get on. There was much snow, and he had little strength—And then, he felt uneasy: he had held the rope, and two _zloty_ were for him: should he have them? They had been lying there on the table, glittering and almost new, as he well remembered. “Perhaps they will give them to me,” he thought. “To whom else do they belong? My arms are stiff with holding the rope, Krasula pulled so hard; I held on nevertheless.... And how I praised her to the cattle-dealers! Oh, I made them hear me!... Peter, the eldest boy—I should buy him a mouth-organ at the very first local feast.... And the younger one too should get something.... And Veronka’s little ones too, naughty troublesome brats though they are.... And for myself, some snuff—strong—such as stirs one’s inwards! Staho’s snuff is good for little, does not even make me sneeze.” But these musings affected his work so much that when Hanka came round in an hour’s time, the straw was only just covered with snow. “Why, you eat enough for a man, and work less than a child!” she said. “Ah, Hanka, I am working hard, but I just stopped a moment to breathe: I shall finish instantly—instantly!” he stammered, greatly abashed. “The twilight is coming down from the forest, the frost is growing harder, and the pit looks as if swine had been rooting there. Go ye into the hut and tend the babes.” She herself set to work, and with such energy that the pit was very soon covered up and splendidly heaped over with snow.