She started up from the chest she was sitting on, and the strong emotion which gripped her heart prevented her from saying a word. “He’s quite well, and in good spirits. A warder was present; but I had speech with him for at least an hour.” “Is he—is he in irons?” she asked, in a strangled voice. “The idea! No more than the others.... He is not ill-used; do not frighten yourself.” “But Koziol says they are flogged there, and chained to the walls.” “It may be so in other cases; but Antek told me no one had touched him.” She clasped her hands with joy, and her face lit up. “On my departure, he said that ye had without fail to kill the pig before Easter: he too would like to taste the Hallow-fare.”[2] ----- Footnote 2: _Hallow-fare_—in Polish, _swiecone_—consists of various meats and pastry solemnly blessed in each house by a priest on Holy Saturday, and eaten at Eastertide, together with the consecrated Easter eggs; probably a Christianized survival of some spring festival among the heathen Slavs.—_Translator’s Note._ “Alas! the poor man is starving there, no doubt,” she remarked, plaintively. “But,” Yuzka ventured to put in, “Father told us that, when fat, it was to be sold.” “He did; only,” Hanka said inflexibly, “now that Antek orders it to be killed, his will takes the place of his father’s.” “He also sends you word,” Roch continued, “that you are to do the needful as concerns all the field-work.—I had told him what a good beginning ye had made.” “And what did he say to that?” asked Hanka, radiant. “He said that ye were able to do whatever ye chose to do.” “Yes, I shall be able—I shall!” she cried, her eyes bright with intense resolve. “But will they set him free soon?” she inquired anxiously. “Directly after Easter, it may be, but perhaps somewhat later. At any rate, as soon as the inquiry is over. It drags on so,” he added, with partial truth, avoiding her eyes, “because the accused are so numerous—the whole village, in fact.” “Did he ask about the house ... or the children ... or me?” She longed also to add: “or Yagna?” But she durst not put the question so openly; nor had she the art of drawing him on to tell her what she wanted. Moreover, it was now too late: the news of Roch’s coming had spread throughout the village, and the bells had not yet tolled for Evensong, when the women came crowding in to hear the news about their absent ones. Sitting down near the entrance outside the cabin, he told them all he knew about each one in particular. He had nothing distressing to relate; but the women who heard him began presently to whimper, and even to weep aloud.