“Blood of a dog!—Plague take it all!” he exclaimed at last; and, taking up his tools, without any after-dinner rest, he passed over to the Klembas’, where he had something to do about the hut. They were all out in the yard, and at dinner still. He sat down by the wall for a smoke. The Klembas were talking of Gregory Boryna’s return from the army. “What? home so soon?” he asked. “Why, know ye not?” said old Klemba. “Together with Yasyek, Teresa’s goodman, and Yarchyk from Vola.” “They are to be here in harvest-time. This morning, Teresa went to get the letter read by the organist, who told me about it.—That’s news for you, that Yasyek is returning!” he blurted out. A silence followed. All eyes were fixed on vacancy, and the women, stifling their desire to laugh, turned very red. He gave no heed, and seemed pleased at the news, remarking tranquilly: “’Tis well that he returns: now they will peradventure cease from slandering Teresa.” Their spoons stopped, suspended in air over the dish, so confounded were they all. He looked round him, unabashed, and then added: “Ye are well aware how little they spare her. She is naught to me but a distant relative on my father’s side. But if any dirty sneak should hint at anything else, I’d stop his mouth so that he’d never forget it! But women are the worst of all; they never spare another woman. Be she white as snow, they would find means to foul her!” “Quite so, quite so,” they replied, with their eyes upon the dish. “Have ye been at Boryna’s yet?” he inquired, anxiously. “I have long been about to go; but something always prevented me.” “He suffers for us all, and we—we forget him!” “And you—have you looked in there?” “I?—Should I go in by myself, folk would say I was after Yagna!” “As particular as a girl after she has tripped!” muttered old Agata, who sat by the hedge, with a small bowl on her knees. “Well, but I have enough of all this yelping.” Klemba laughed. “The wolf,” he said, “changes his life when his teeth are gone.” “Or,” Matthew added, “when he thinks of settling down.” “Ho, ho! we shall soon have you sending messengers to some lass?” young Klemba cried in high glee. “Aye, I am weighing the matter seriously.” “Make your choice quickly, Matthew, and ask me to be your bridesmaid!” piped Kate, the eldest daughter. “Ah, but there’s the rub. All are equally excellent, and every one’s better than the other. Magda’s the richest, but she’s toothless and blear-eyed; Ulisia’s a flower, but has one hip too big, and no dowry but a barrel of sourcrout; Franka has a baby; Mary is too friendly to all the boys; Eva has a hundred _zloty_, all in coppers; but she’s a sluggard, always lying abed. All would fain eat fat things, drink sweet things, and do nothing. Oh, they are pure gold, these girls! And others there are besides, nice, but not yet grown up.” They all laughed till the pigeons flew off the roof.