The cabin became noisier, little by little, as gossip after gossip dropped in to chat in neighbourly wise, and clasp their hands, and admire the porker. “So fine! so laden with fat! Far finer a one than either the miller’s or the organist’s!” Hanka felt much pleased, and was puffed up with these praises of the fatted beast; and though indeed she grudged the vodka, she could not help inviting them, according to the custom among the peasants to offer drinks, and bread and salt, on such an occasion. And she became very talkative to all the folk who crossed the threshold one after another and came in, as one comes into church for a short visit on the feast of the patron saint.—Children, too, were plentiful all round the house, and peeping in at every window. All through Lipka, besides, there now began to be a good deal of unusual movement: folk splashing along in the mud, and carts clattering in from other villages, all crowding to church for their Easter confession, in spite of the detestable roads and the dismal weather, so wretchedly changeable! Every now and then there came a flaw of rain, and then a warm breeze would blow athwart the orchards, or frozen snow pour down like groats, or the sun look smiling out of the clouds and scatter its gold over all the world. But the weather is usually so in the first days of spring—like a young lass that laughs and cries, and is blithe or sullen, just as it occurs to her, and she herself cannot tell why. But no one in Hanka’s surroundings had any care for the weather just now: work and talk went on with equal noise. Ambrose bustled about, and kept the others lively with his merry jests. He was obliged, however, to pay frequent visits to the church and see that everything there was going on well: on his return, he would complain of the cold and want something to warm him up. “I have so well beset the priests with penitents, that neither will stir till noon,” he said. “Of the priest from Slupia they say,” Yagustynka observed, after a gibe at the incumbent of Laznov which nettled Ambrose not a little, “that he always bears a scent-bottle with him, for that he dislikes the scent of common folk, and fans himself with his handkerchief after every confession.” “You hold your peace, and let priests alone!” Ambrose cried out in a rage. “Is Roch in church?” Hanka hastened to inquire; she too disliked the old woman’s waspish tongue. “He has been there all the morning, serving Masses, and putting things in order.” “And where is Michael, then?” “Gone to Rzepki with the organist’s son, to make out the confession-list.” “‘Plough with a goose-quill, sow paper with sand: ye will get much more pelf than by tilling the land!’” muttered Yagustynka. “Truly it is so. He gets an egg at least for each name he puts down.” “And the confession-tickets come to a kopek and a half! No wonder his wallets are crammed with good things. Last week the organist’s wife sold near upon fifteen hundred eggs.”