Here the Voyt and Soltys came forward to pacify him, for he had worked himself up so, that his fingers were twitching for some weapon at hand. “You! set down a fine for me: I’ll pay it, and toss you a coin for vodka besides, if I am so minded,” he called out. But the clerk paid no more heed to him, and was taking notes of everything, and inquiring into every detail of the occurrence: while the old man rambled about the place, muttering, peeping into corners, and quite unable to come to himself. He even gave a kick to the dog! When all was over, they would willingly have taken a morsel; but Hanka sent them word that she was just then short of bread and milk: only a few potatoes remained from breakfast. They accordingly repaired to the tavern, loading Lipka with all imaginable maledictions. “Ye did well, Hanka,” the old man said; “and they can do nothing to you.—Why, the old Squire, though I was his serf then, and he had the right, would never, never have insulted me so!” In the early afternoon, news came that they were still in the tavern, and the Soltys had given orders to bring Kozlova to him. “He may as well run after the wind in the plain!” Yagustynka said, scornfully. “No doubt she is in the forest, seeking dry firewood.” “No; she has been in Warsaw since yesterday. She went to get children from the hospital, and is to bring over a couple. Foundlings, I suppose.” “Yes, and let them die of starvation, as she did those she had two years ago,” said Hanka. “Poor things! Perhaps it is better so; they will not have to drag out a long life of misery.” “Aye, but even a bastard is of human blood, and ’tis no light thing to answer for their lives to God, as she must.” “But,” Yagustynka pleaded, “she does not starve them of set purpose: oft she has not enough for herself; whence can she get food for them?” “She has not taken them out of charity; she has been paid for their keep!” replied Hanka, sternly. “Fifty _zloty_ a head per year is no great sum.” “It is nothing. She drinks it all at once, and the little ones starve!” “Not all of them.—Your Vitek, for instance, and another lad now in a hut in Modlitsa.” “Oh, but Father took Vitek from her when he could hardly toddle; and the other was in like case.” “Am I defending Kozlova? Nay, but only telling you things as I see them. Something the poor creature must earn, since she has naught to eat.” “Surely: her goodman is away, and so can steal naught for her.” “And then she made but a sorry business with Agata. That old thing, instead of dropping off—what does she do but get quite well again and leave her? And now she grumbles all over the village that every day Kozlova upbraided her for living on, to her loss!” “She will no doubt return to the Klembas: where else should she take shelter?”