Several times that evening she heard the dogs barking loud within the enclosure, and set them on: “At him, Lapa!—At him, Burek!—At him!” But each time the dogs ceased suddenly, and came back, wagging their tails with satisfaction. This took place so often that a fearful suspicion arose in her mind. “Pete, take heed to lock and bolt everything well. Someone is prowling nigh, and no stranger either; for the dogs know him!” At last all went to bed and to sleep—all but Hanka. She made sure that all the doors were locked; then she stood lending an attentive ear for a long time. “Among the corn!—In one of the barrels, I dare say.... Ah, what if someone has forestalled me?” The very thought made her heart throb, and brought a cold sweat to her brow. That night she hardly slept at all. CHAPTER III “Yuzka, kindle the fire; fill all our pots with water, and put them on to boil. I am off to Yankel’s to get the seasonings.” “Then hurry; Ambrose will be here straightway.” “No fear; he cannot come so early. He has his duties to perform in church.” “Only to ring the bell for Mass. Roch is going to take his place for all the rest.” “Well, I shall be in time. Meanwhile, you hurry the lads, make them scour the trough quickly, and bring it outside the cabin.—Yagustynka will be here presently: let her wash the tubs.—Also the empty barrels must be taken out of the larder and rolled into the pond, to get the staves properly soaked and swollen out.—Do not wake the little ones; so long as they sleep, they’ll be less in the way.”—And, having given her orders and tied her apron over her head, she hastened out into the air of an early and very muggy and rainy morning. The day was dismal, wet, and most unpleasantly cold; grey mists dripped and drizzled, the slippery roads were sodden and dank, the drab-coloured huts loomed faintly through the rain that fell; the trees, drooping gloomily over the pond, were seen like tremulous shrinking swaying shadows, as dim as if they had been made of mist; in this foul weather, there was scarce any landscape visible, and no one was out as yet. It was only when the Mass-bell began to tinkle that a few red petticoats were seen picking their way through the mire to church. Hanka tripped on swiftly, thinking she might perhaps meet Ambrose at the turning of the road; but he was nowhere in sight. Only the priest’s old blind horse, as usual at that hour of the day, was going down to the pond with a large barrel, drawn on sledge-runners, stopping and stumbling at every rut, yet finding its way to the place by scent: the farm-lad waiting for it having sheltered himself from the rain in the bushes, and begun smoking a cigarette. Just in front of the priest’s house, a britzka drawn by a couple of well-fed chestnut horses, had pulled up and the ruddy-faced incumbent of Laznov stepped out of it.