Her mother and her husband were alarmed and sought to calm her; they tried to soothe her as one soothes a spoiled child; they caressed her, they looked lovingly into her eyes: all was of no avail. She cried till she could cry no longer. And then, suddenly, she felt a change and, rising from her seat in a strange humour of merriment, began to talk and laugh, and almost burst into song. Boryna stared at her in wonder, and so did her mother. Then they exchanged glances full of meaning, and went out to whisper together in the passage. They came back gay and joyful, and embraced and kissed her with the most tender affection. “Do not lift that kneading-trough!” exclaimed Dominikova earnestly; “you must not. Matthias will do that for you!” “Why, I have often lifted and carried many a heavier thing!” She did not understand. Boryna would not let her touch the trough; he carried it himself. And a little later, when she was in the bedroom, he took the opportunity of taking her in his arms and telling her something that Yuzka was not to hear. “Both mother’s head and yours are turned! What you suppose is not the case: you are both wrong.” “These are things that we know something about, and there is no mistake here.—Let me see. It is Yule-tide now.... Then—then it will be only in July.—Dear, dear! in harvest-time!—Yet let us thank God that it has come to pass in any case.” He would have embraced her again, but she shrank away from him in a temper, and ran to her mother to protest. The old dame, however, asserted that there was no mistake. “There is, there is! ’tis naught but your fancy!” Yagna cried in hot denial. “You are not glad of this, it seems?” “And why should I be glad? Have we not enough troubles, without this too thrown in?” “Do not complain, or the Lord will punish you!” “Let Him, let Him!” “But what have you to complain of?” “That I do not wish it: that is all!” “Look, Yagna: if you have a child, then, in the case of your husband’s death (which Heaven forfend!) it would have an equal part with the other children as his heir; and possibly all the land might come to it in the end....” “Land, land, land! Ye think of naught else; and to me it is naught!” “Because you’re as yet a silly child, and your head is full of nonsense. A man without land is like a man without legs: he crawls about and cannot get anywhere.—But, at any rate, say nothing of this to Matthias; it would vex him.” “I shall say whatever I like. What do I care for him?” “Then do so, if you are such a fool; yes, tell everybody about it!—Go rather, set to work; take the herrings out of the water to soak them in milk; it will make them less salt. And tell Yuzka to pound some more poppy-seed; there is yet much work, and the day is far spent.”