“He would punish us, would he? Do we not pay taxes, send our boys to the army, do whatever they tell us? Is it too little for them that they have taken our men from our midst?” “Whenever they show their faces, some evil attends them.” “They shot my dog in the fields last harvest-time!” “They had me before the court, because my chimney took fire!” “And what a flogging they gave young Gulbas for flinging a stone at them!” All were crowding around Roch and shouting together. He cried out: “Can screaming serve your turn? Be quiet!” “Then go ye to the Voyt and lay the matter before him!” Kobusova the fiery suggested. “Else we go thither—and our brooms with us!” “Go I will; but only after you have dispersed. Now, pray, off with you: each has so much to do at home!—I shall lay the matter before him fitly.” He spoke very earnestly, fearing lest the gendarmes might return. The noonday Angelus was sounding from the belfry. They slowly left the place to talk things over in eager excitement, standing in knots outside their cabins. Roch went hurriedly to the Soltys, at whose house he was then dwelling, as he taught the children in the empty cabin of the Sikoras, down beyond the tavern, at the other end of the village. But the Soltys was not at home, having driven over to the district town with tax-payments. Soha’s wife told him of all that had happened, but in a quiet subdued manner, and wound up by saying: “God grant that no harm may come of these disturbances!” “’Tis the Voyt’s fault. The gendarmes only do as they are bid. But he is well aware that there are, so to say, only women left in the village, and that they have no one to work on their own fields, let alone working for the government. I shall go and get him to arrange matters, so that no fines be imposed.” “It looks very much like revenge taken for the forest business,” she remarked. “Taken by whom?—by the Squire? My good dame, what has he to do with the Administration?” “Gentlefolk always agree better with gentlefolk, and are hand in glove with each other. Besides, he said he would be even with the Lipka folk.” “Good God! not a single day of peace—always some fresh affliction coming upon us!” “May nothing worse than this befall us, I pray God!” she answered, clasping her hands in supplication. “They were all screaming together like a flock of magpies, and, Lord protect us! how they gabbled!” “He that itches will scratch!” “But it can do no good, and may bring still greater harm!” He was sorely agitated and apprehensive of some yet greater impending evil. “Are ye,” she asked, “returning to the little ones?” He had risen from his seat. “I have sent them home. Easter holidays have come, and besides, they will be wanted in the house, where so much is to be done.”