He seemed offended, and assured her warmly that he had come for no other purpose but to give her friendly advice. She listened as he talked, looking round impatiently; the cows lowed unmilked in their byres, the geese were still out of doors, the colt and Lapa sporting in the enclosure, and the little ones playing in the barn: while of all he was telling her she believed nothing. “But I’ll let him talk on,” she thought, “till I find out what he’s aiming at”; and she held herself on the alert. “What is to be done?” she asked mechanically. “There is something,” he whispered. She faced him suddenly. “Pay down enough money, and he will be released even before the trial. And then he can escape. Even to ‘Hamerica’! They will not catch him there.” “Lord! to ‘Hamerica’!” she cried, appalled. “Hush! I tell you in great secrecy. ’Tis what the Squire said to me. ‘Let him get away,’ he said; ‘ten years of Siberia will ruin any man’s life.’ ... That he told me but yesterday.” “What! and flee from our village ... our children ... our lands?” It was the only misfortune that appealed to her. “Pay the sum wanted, and Antek will do all the rest.—Give it to them.” “But where—where am I to get it?... O my God!... Away to the very back of the world.... So far from everyone!” “They ask for five hundred roubles. Why, ye have father-in-law’s money: take it and pay; we shall reckon together later—only save Antek!” She saw the trap, and started to her feet. “Obstinate dog! Always on the same trail!” she said, about to leave him. “This is foolishness!” he exclaimed, losing patience. “’Twas but a word that escaped me. Must ye take offence at a word, when your man is rotting in jail?—Oh, he shall know how much ye do to set him free!” She sat down again, quite bewildered. He talked to her for some time about “Hamerica,” and folk he knew that had gone there, who wrote letters home, and even sent their families money. Antek might get away at once; Michael knew a Jew who had wafted many a one over the frontier. Multitudes got away thus. Hanka, too, might follow later, without attracting attention. Gregory would return from the army, and repay all from the inheritance; or if he could not, a purchaser would readily be found. “Take ye counsel of the priest,” he concluded; “he will approve my plan, as ye will see. I have only urged you to do right, and for no profit of my own.—But breathe not a word of this to anyone else, or the gendarmes will know of it. And then he would not get out of prison at all, and be perchance put in irons into the bargain,” he concluded grimly. “But where is the money to come from that will set him free?” she said, with a groan. “I know a man in Modlitsa who would lend it—at high interest. Oh, the money can be found! I’ll lay my life I could manage that!” For a long while he went on counselling her, and at last slipped away abruptly. She, lost in thought, took no note of his going.