It was then May weather at its best. The breeze blew, stirring the corn in rippling waves. The orchards whispered as they waved, and shook down their blossoming petals; and heavy clusters of lilac and bird-cherry blossoms filled the air with perfume. From the fields, songs came borne on the wind; and in the smithy, the hammer rang on the anvil. Since morning, the roads had been full of people and racket, and the women wended their way to the cabbage patches, bearing young plants with them in sieves and baskets. Before the morning dew was quite dry, the black fields, cut into many a furrow full of water sparkling in the sunshine, were dappled all over with red aprons and skirts. Dame Klemba went with her daughters, the while her goodman with his sons were helping Matthew to repair their cabin. Old Klemba, however, presently finding the sun too hot, called Balcerek and went over to see Boryna. “A fine day, friend,” he said, taking a pinch from Balcerek’s snuff-box. “Splendid. But let’s hope this great heat will not last.” “Rain is falling on all sides: our turn must come soon.” “Yet it looks like drought: the trees are covered with insects.” “And the vegetables, how late they have come up! A drought would destroy them. But, by God’s grace, it may not come to that.” “Well, and what of the fair? Any news of your horse?” “I gave the police officer three roubles, and he gave me promises.” “We have naught in safety! We live in constant alarm, as hares do, and there’s no help for it.” “Our Voyt is a mere figure-head,” suggested Balcerek, in low cautious tones. “We ought,” Klemba rapped out, “to seek another.” Balcerek gave him a warning look; but he went on, excitedly: “He brings the village to shame.—Have ye heard what he did yesterday?” “Oh, his brawl? that’s naught.—But there’s more, and we may have to pay dear for his spell in office.” “But there are checks on him: the cashier, the scrivener, the rest of the council.” “Like dogs set to watch over meat! Aye, they’ll watch so well that we peasants will have in the end to pay for their negligence.” “What’s to be done?—Any other news?” Balcerek spat and tossed up his hand; he cared little to talk, being a cross-grained man, and henpecked besides, which made him still more taciturn. They arrived at Boryna’s. In the porch, Yuzka was peeling potatoes. “Ye may go in; Father is lying there alone. Hanka is out planting cabbages, and Yagna working at her mother’s.” The room looked very empty. A lilac-bough now and then peeped in at the window, and the sunlight filtered in through the verdure outside. The old man lay as usual, but much emaciated, with his grey beard bristling all over his discoloured cheeks. His head was still bandaged, and his ashen lips were moving as if to speak. They greeted him. No answer, no movement in reply. “Do ye not know us?” said Klemba, taking his hand.