“Here comes Paul of the police station!” he exclaimed, seeing the messenger enter the enclosure. “An official paper for Anna Boryna,” Paul said, taking an envelope out of his pouch. Hanka turned it about uneasily, uncertain what to do with it. “I’ll read it for you,” Roch said. But as the smith came behind, to read it over his shoulder, Roch folded the paper immediately, saying without interest: “A permission for you to visit Antek twice a week in future.” Roch waited till the smith had gone, and then followed Hanka into the cabin. “The letter was not what I told you: I did not think the smith ought to know of it. Ye are advised that, either on your giving a sufficient guaranty or paying five hundred roubles into court, Antek will be set free directly.—What ails you?” No reply. Her voice had failed her; she stood motionless, her face suffused with crimson first, then pale as death, her eyes blinded with tears. She stretched out her arms and, drawing a deep breath, fell on her face before the holy images. Roch went out and, sitting down in the porch, read the document over again, smiling with joy. It was some time before he looked in again. Hanka was on her knees, glowing with gratitude, her heart almost bursting with gladness. Short broken sighs and whispered ejaculations seemed to be filling the room with flashes and pillars of flame, fed with the fire of her life-blood, and rising up to the feet of Our Lady of Chenstohova. The bliss of it was almost too much for her to bear: her tears flowed in torrents, washing away the memory of all her past sorrows and sufferings. At length she rose, and, wiping her tears away, said to Roch: “And now I am ready for anything in the future. The worst that may hap will be less evil than what has been.” He looked with astonishment at the change that had taken place in her. Her eyes sparkled; her cheeks were no longer pale, but full of colour; she stooped no more, and looked ten years younger. “Sell the things, quick,” he said; “get the sum together, and we shall go to fetch Antek to-morrow or on Tuesday.” Dazed, she again and again repeated the words: “Antek is coming back—coming back!” “Not a word about it! When he comes, why, folk will know of it anyway. Ah! and we must let it be supposed that he was set free unconditionally, or the smith would want to know where the money came from.” All this he told her in a low voice, and she promised to obey, excepting Yuzka, however, whom she had to tell, and trust with the joyful secret; Hanka could hardly have borne alone such an awful weight of gladness. She went to and fro like one flushed with strong drink, kissed all the children twenty times over, talked to the colt, talked to the pig, and frisked with the stork; and as Lapa followed her about, looking wistfully into her eyes as if he understood something of the matter, she said in his ear: “Tell no one, silly one! The goodman is coming home!”