Yuzka then looked after him; but this was only when others were by, she being as yet but a little girl, silly and a gadabout, so that Hanka was obliged to watch over the dying man alone. The smith and his wife, indeed, were popping in to look round any number of times a day; but it was she that they came to watch, and to see whether she had taken nothing out of the cottage, eagerly anticipating the possibility of Boryna’s recovering his senses enough to bequeath his property. They snarled round him like dogs quarrelling round a dying sheep, each impatient to get his fangs first into the poor beast’s entrails, and carry off the best piece of the carcass. Meanwhile, the blacksmith clutched at everything he could see and lay his hands on; it had to be snatched from him by force and the strictest watch kept; and no day passed by without brawling and furious invectives. The proverb says that “God gives to everyone who rises with the sun.” Yes, but the blacksmith would rise even before, even at midnight, and go galloping ten villages away, if he were but sure of making a good profit. And now Yagna had scarcely risen and donned her petticoat, when the door creaked, and in he walked with stealthy steps, straight to the bed where old Boryna lay, and peered into his eyes. “Not a word yet?” “As he was, so he is!” Yagna said bluntly, putting her hair up under her kerchief. She was barefoot and scantily attired, still rather drowsy, and overflowing with the strange charm that came forth from her like rays of heat; he could not help eyeing her through his half-closed lids with a greedy stare. “Do you know,” he said, coming close to her, “the old fellow must have a goodly lot of money here? The organist told me that, even before last Yule-tide, Boryna was ready to lend a cool hundred roubles to a man in Debitsa, and the loan only failed because he wanted too high a rate of interest. He must have it somewhere here, hidden away in the cabin.—So keep an eye on Hanka!... And ye might take a quiet look round at your leisure....” “Why not?” she said, throwing her apron over her bare arms, for she felt his glances upon her. He walked about the room, peeping absently behind the pictures that hung on the walls. “Have you the key of the store-room?” he asked, with a sly look at the small closed door just by. “It hangs by the cross near the window.” “About a month since, I lent him a chisel which I want now, but can find it nowhere about. I think it is in there, thrown somewhere amongst odds and ends.” “Look for it yourself. I am not going to seek it for you.” Suddenly, hearing Hanka’s voice in the passage, he drew back from the larder-door and hung the key up again. “Then I shall look in to-morrow,” he said, taking his cap. “Has Roch been here?” “How should I know? Ask Hanka.” He lingered on a little, scratching his fell of red hair, while his eyes darted to and fro with a furtive expression; then, smiling to himself, he walked out.