Half an hour had not elapsed before all were distributed; there only remained in front of the church a few _Komorniki_ in tears, who had vainly hoped that some worker might fall to their share. And now every homestead was in motion, benches set out in front of the huts, and breakfast laid on the tables; while nips of vodka were tossed off “to their better acquaintance.” The lasses served with alacrity, for most of the visitors were unmarried men, and clad almost as though they had come rather to a betrothal than to a long spell of toil. There was no time for conversation. Nor did they linger much over breakfast; for, as they politely remarked, “they had not yet deserved hospitality.” So they speedily made for the fields, under the goodwives’ guidance. And now arose a day of high solemnity along that country-side. Waste and, as it were, palsied erewhile, it took up a new life now. Wagons rolled out of every farm-yard, ploughs moved forth on every road; all the field-paths were alive with people, hailing each other with merry cries across orchards and enclosures; horses neighed, dogs gave tongue, running wildly after the colts; a strong lusty joy of life, filling all hearts, went brimming over into the very fields! And on potato-patch and barley-plot, free space and weedy fallow, there arose a din full of gladness and excitement and racket, as in a ball-room just before the dance. And then came silence, broken by swishing whips, and tinkling harnesses; the horses pulled amain; the ploughs, still rusty, cut deep into the soil, turning up their first black glossy furrows. And the people, drawing a long breath, crossed themselves, cast their eyes over the fields, and stooped down with a will to labour and to toil. It was like a huge church in which the service had just begun. With what piety did they bend over the glebe! with what profound devotion and trust in Mother Earth did they cast forth the sacred seed, that was to bring forth much fruit on the morrow! Like a swarm of bees, they beset the odoriferous soil—a multitudinous, laborious, silent crowd: while the lark sang overhead, poised upon unseen wings, and the wind, blowing by, rocked the trees, tumbled the women’s garments, stroked down the rye-blades, and then fled away with a laugh to the forest. For many long hours they worked on at a stretch, only from time to time straightening their bent shoulders just for a breathing-spell. Even at noonday, they did not quit the scene, but sat down in the field-paths to rest awhile and eat the food brought in pots from the cabins. But no sooner had the horses done their meal than the men returned to the ploughs again without a moment’s lingering. Only the falling twilight at last put an end to their labour.