Matthew darted a murderous look at him, but replied nothing. For the whole day, he mutely watched Antek’s work with the most rigid scrutiny, but without finding anything against him. He worked so admirably well that the miller himself, who came round several times a day to look over the work done, could not find any fault with it, and at the first weekly payment raised his wages to three _zloty_. At this Matthew, in a towering passion, had words with the miller, who answered: “I am satisfied both with him and with you, and with every man who works well.” “You have raised his wages merely to spite me!” “I have done so as in justice bound, and want all men to know I am just. Why, he is worth as much as Bartek, if not more.” “Then,” Matthew threatened, “I throw the whole damned business up. You may do the work yourself!” “Do so, if you choose. If my black bread is not to your taste, go seek rolls elsewhere. Young Boryna will take your place, and that at four _zloty_ daily,” the miller said, with a laugh. Matthew cooled down immediately, seeing that bullying was out of the question. He gave up his persecutions, put his dislike for Antek deep into his pocket (though there it burned like a live coal), and also became less exacting, less of a taskmaster for the men. This they were not slow to perceive, and Bartek presently remarked to the others: “He’s like the dog that snapped at a man’s boot, got kicked on the muzzle, and fawned on him. Aye, he thought he was the favourite, and knows now he will have to go as soon as a better man is found.” Both to the rise in wages, and to Matthew’s knuckling down, Antek was indifferent; he cared for all that as much as for the year gone by. It was not for the money’s sake, but to please Hanka, and for his own satisfaction, that he was working. Had he made up his mind to lie on his back all day long, he would have done so, no matter what came of it.