She quailed at the vision, feeling acutely the depth of her guilt.—“Then I will not go, I will not! It were a mortal sin, a mortal sin!” she repeated to herself, striving to find in these words the strength to resist and a shield against evil. But then her soul revolted with the pain of it; for indeed she was attracted to him with all the might and bent of her vital forces, and turned towards him as a snow-burdened tree turns towards the sun in spring. But the fear of sin had still the upper hand, and she did her best to forget him—forget him for ever!... She now stayed at home, fearing to go anywhere about the premises, lest he might be lurking about and call to her.... For would she then be able to resist, and not to follow his voice? She set about diligently to perform her home duties; but there was little to be done. Yuzka managed all; besides, the old man was always after her, unwilling to have her put her hand to anything. “Rest yourself; do not work too much, lest some untimely harm come upon you!” So she did nothing, and only wandered aimlessly about the cabin, or looked out of the windows—at nothing—or stood idle in the passage. Meanwhile her longing and her desire increased continually; and her irritation as well. She was angered by her husband’s watchful eyes, angered by the joy and liveliness that filled the place; angered even by Bociek the stork, walking about the hut, and flapped her apron to drive it away. At last, when she could bear things no longer, she chose a convenient opportunity, and ran over to her mother’s hut. But she went there straight across the pond, looking round in fear, lest he should be lurking somewhere behind a tree. Her mother was not at home; she had only looked in early in the day, and then returned to attend the Voyt’s wife. Andrew sat smoking by the fireside, while Simon dressed himself in the bedroom. Back in her old place, amongst her own furniture and surroundings, a change came over her and her irritation disappeared. She was once more in her element, and began instinctively to move about and do things: going to the cow-house, straining out the milk which had since the morning been standing in the pail, throwing corn to the fowls, sweeping the room, setting things in order, and meantime keeping up a brisk conversation with her two brothers; for Simon, having put on a new capote, had now come in, and was doing his hair before the looking-glass. “So carefully dressed?—Whither away?” “To the village, to meet a few lads at the Ploshkas’.” “And ... will mother let you go?” “I shall not everlastingly ask her leave: my reason is my own; so is my will.” “Surely, surely,” Andrew chimed in timorously, looking out into the road. “You are to know,” the other cried with a bold air, “that what I do, I will do in spite of her. To the Ploshkas’, aye, and to the tavern as well, will I go, and drink with the other lad.”